by Griff Hosker
Chapter 9
We buried our men at dawn with grey clouds scudding overhead. Once again Warrant Officer Peters attended the funeral of the three men. I felt guilty. The ones who had perished were all new men. Four of my section had died and all of them were novices. What could I have done better? Perhaps I should have left them at the airfield until an easier mission came along. Then I realised that we did not have easier missions and we had needed every man we had and then some.
Lieutenant Poulson told me that Bond and Pickles had just been unlucky. They had both raised their heads at the wrong time. Their deaths had been instant. Fisher had also been unlucky. The bullets which had stitched a line along the truck had only wounded Davis but killed him. I had three more letters to write. These three were no easier than Scott’s had been but at least I knew them slightly better and I could write with more authority. I felt drained at the end of it.
Fletcher radioed London. They already knew of our success because of the radio traffic they had picked up. They would send over an aeroplane to take photographs to confirm when the weather allowed. I knew we had succeeded. The mountain had fallen. Beaumont had excelled himself. I began to write my report and to recommend medals and promotions. They all deserved something.
Most of the men just wanted to sleep but I could not. I would be haunted by four young faces. Instead I decided to go for a run. Many men would have thought me mad but my men knew why I did it. As I was getting changed Sam White asked, “Are you off for a run sir?”
“Yes White. It clears the head.”
Mind if I join you sir?”
“You are more than welcome.”
We ran from the airfield to Strasbourg. It was cold and fresh and that was what I needed. Neither of us spoke. It was companionable. We received strange looks from the sentries at the gate but they snapped to attention as we ran through the barrier. The looks from the French civilians were even stranger. I was used to it. Even in Falmouth the locals could not get used to the Commandos who ran in all weathers. We were both in the same rhythm. It just seemed to happen. Commandos have an affinity for one another and that is translated into a rhythmic gait. I was certain it was akin to the warriors of old, like the Vikings, Romans and Spartans who had been able to keep in step even when fighting.
We reached the cathedral and ran around it. I stopped, “Everything all right sir?”
I nodded, “I am not a religious man, White, but something made me stop. I think I will go in and say a prayer. You can wait here if you wish.”
“No sir. I would like to as well. My Nan used to make me say my prayers when I was little. I haven’t done it since. I don’t know why.”
I knew that this Gothic edifice had been the tallest church in the world for a while. That seemed unimportant as we stepped into its gloomy interior. Mum had taken us to church but I had never been a regular church goer. They say that in war there is no such thing as an atheist. Certainly, as we knelt to pray I hoped that there was an afterlife and my four young Commandos were there. I was self-conscious and I spoke my prayer in my head. I prayed that the four of them were at peace and I asked forgiveness for not preventing their deaths. For some reason, and I still don’t know why, I began to cry. The tears flowed down my cheeks. I didn’t want to cry. I was a major in the Commandos! Perhaps it was all the men who had died before. There had been a lot. When my tears subsided I stood. White was waiting in the aisle. He had given me space.
Neither of us said a word as we ran back but the run and the church had a cathartic effect on me. I felt purged. I had needed to mourn. Dad had told me of men who had bottled things up inside. One had served with him in Somaliland. He had been a hero but after some of the men he had been training had died in an accident he had never been the same. He had taken his own life. That had upset Dad. He had wondered if he could have done more for poor Eric Hobson. I had wept and I had mourned. I would now put that behind me. That chapter had ended and I had a new page to write.
We walked from the gate. It was our cooling off. White said, “Thank you for letting me come with you sir. It helped.”
“Helped, White?”
“Understand sir.”
I did not fully understand what he meant but I nodded anyway. “I think, White, that we will use the showers in the main block? I do not relish a cold one.”
“No sir, highly overrated in my view.”
We had not been using our rations what with our missions and the generous gift from the Americans. Warrant Officer Peters, who seemed to have taken on the role of guardian angel, brought over fresh meat, freshly baked bread and some tinned vegetables. We couldn’t have everything. He had also managed to get some tinned fruit for us. As Gordy said, as he gratefully accepted it, “It is like Christmas again.”
One of the best things about being a Commando was that we generally ate together. It didn’t happen as often in any other branch of the service. Dad never liked the change from Sergeants’ Mess to Officers’ Mess. We all mucked in together. It was pork chops that the Warrant Officer had brought and I joined Bill Hay at the oil drums to cook them. Gordy and Lieutenant Poulson had managed to get some milk and some rice. They were making rice pudding and arguing the merits of the preparation.
“Of course, sir, it can never be as good as my mum’s. She did hers in the oven and it always had a lovely, crisp skin.”
Lieutenant Poulson said, “I was never a skin man myself, Gordy.”
“And that it the beauty of rice pudding sir. The ones who like skin take it off and the rest have it the way they like.”
I turned the chops and said, “Mum used to put cream in ours and serve it with homemade strawberry jam.”
Gordy sniffed, “Then you were posh, sir. The only time we got cream was if you managed to get to the top of the milk before the birds or someone else in the family!”
I smiled, Mum would be appalled to think that others thought us posh. But I now knew that we were. I had had a privileged upbringing. A second home in France and Dad’s cars marked us as different. I don’t think it made us snobs but it did make us act and sound different. “And she would grate some nutmeg too.”
“Nutmeg!” There was scorn in Gordy’s voice although I am not certain he even knew what nutmeg was.
Bill turned his chops, “Five minutes for the chops. How is the gravy coming, John?”
“It will be lovely. Perfect to mop up with the bread. I am glad that Fletcher managed to find those onions.”
“Pinch more like!”
“Sergeant Major I am offended. Not everybody from Liverpool is a thief!”
“I don’t think they are Scouse but you…”
“Veg is almost ready too, Sarge!”
“Right, Beaumont.” Over my shoulder I shouted, “Foster, White, get the tops off those wine bottles.”
“To let them breathe sir?”
I laughed, “No so that we can drink it! This is as rough a wine as you can get!”
We had put the two tables together so that we could all sit around it. The bread was no longer warm but the bakers had used French milled flour and it tasted wonderful. As well as the onions Fletcher had managed to buy some cheese. I would enjoy that with the last of the bread after the pudding. It was a convivial meal. We took advantage of the fact that no one had come up with another mission for us yet. They would, eventually, and then we would be behind the lines again living on our nerves and eating dehydrated food.
At the end of the meal we stayed around the table. Most of the men smoked. They didn’t smoke while we ate out of deference to the non-smokers but now that it was over it was as though they had another course to devour. We spoke of the end of the war and our plans and, inevitably, the four dead Commandos. They had no future but we did.
Private Betts took out his mouth organ and began to play. I had no idea why he chose the song he did but it seemed to fit in with the reflective mood. Fred Emerson took out his and joined in.
We’ll meet again don’t know where d
on’t know when
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day
Keep smiling through just like you always do
Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away
So will you please say hello to the folks that I know
Tell ‘em I won’t be long
They’ll be happy to know that as you saw me go
I was singin’ this song
We’ll meet again don’t know where don’t know when
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day
I know we’ll meet again some sunny day
We sang it a couple of times. It was a sentimental song but that was our mood, sentimental.
The next morning Gordy had us all up at the crack of dawn. “Major Harsker put us to shame yesterday! He went for a run while we all slept. Today we all go. All right, Major?”
“Perfect, Sergeant Major, it will blow away the cobwebs.”
When we were back and showered Fletcher made his daily contact with London. When he had finished he said, “Well, sir, it looks like the holiday is over. They are sending someone down tomorrow. They are coming by car and the WAAF said we should begin to pack up. It looks like we are finished here. A shame. I was just getting used to it!”
“Right. Okay Sarn’t Major. Better get things started. You know the way the brass works. We will have to leave here within minutes of whoever they send!”
“Righto sir. Okay my lovely lads. I want this place as clean as a new pin. We wouldn’t want these Brylcreem boys to think we are a bunch of tinkers, do we?”
I put on my greatcoat. The snow had stopped but there was a wind which felt it had come all the way from the Urals! I went to the officers’ mess where I knew I would find Flight Lieutenant Ryan. He stood to attention when I entered, “At ease. Just came to tell you that I think we have no further need of your taxiing services.”
He nodded, “I know sir. The Squadron Leader told me that I was now assigned to the squadron here until further notice.”
I nodded. Andrews could have let me know. It would have been just courtesy. The Squadron Leader had never once invited any of us to dine with them or even to come and see us in our quarters. I did not understand the man.
Ryan said, “Let me buy you a drink sir.”
He looked eager. “Why not? Whisky, neat if they have it.”
He waved over the steward and gave him the order. “You know sir, when you started to interrogate me about flying I thought it was some sort of test. You know, your old man being a high up and all that.”
“No, nothing like that. When I looked at the aerial photograph and saw the transport plane I began to see an easier way out of Germany than climbing through seventy odd miles of mountain in the middle of winter.”
The drinks came, “But sir, how did you manage without a co-pilot?”
“I didn’t. I used my radio operator. Commandos are quick learners you know. Besides so long as we managed to take off then I guessed we could get some way closer to home. We knew the land between Hechingen and Strasbourg. Once I got her in the air we were half way home.”
“But you were attacked by a 110! I would have been shot down!”
“I had more than a dozen armed Commandos. The problem with aeroplanes attacking transports is that they think they are easy targets. We were like a Trojan horse. We did what we had done before. We threw up a wall of lead. And we were lucky. The Ju 52 is a solid aeroplane. I was impressed. Kept flying with one engine shot!”
We chatted for a while and he asked me about the German aeroplane. I had just finished my whisky when Squadron Leader Andrews came in. I was about to buy the Flight Lieutenant a drink when Andrews approached me, “I hope Major that you will leave the hangar in the state you found it! We don’t want any army mess you know!”
“Ah, then should I have my men put a bloody big hole in the roof on one side then? I am certain we have some explosive left!”
Flight Lieutenant Ryan could not hide his grin. “Flight Lieutenant, I am sure you have better things to do!”
He stood and said, “Yes sir, sorry sir!”
I leaned forward and said, “You know Squadron Leader, you really are an arsehole!” He began to move his arm back. I laughed, “And you are as thick as two short planks! You are going to take a swing at a Commando! You would be flat on your back before it got half way to me. Act your age and not your cap size.” I shook my head and said, loudly, “I feel sorry for you chaps. You have a leader who is about as much use as a chocolate fireguard!” I saw smirks as I brushed past the white faced Squadron Leader.
I put him from my mind as I began to organise myself. We were on ordinary rations again but we still made the most of our last night in Strasbourg. After the meal Fletcher organized a card school. I saw that Sam White wisely stayed out of it. He sat with Hewitt, Hay and Polly. They were all interested in Sam’s late decision to join up.
“You know you could have sat out the last few months. You could have joined a headquarters section and had a safe and cushy war. Why on earth you felt the need to join us head cases is beyond me, Sam.”
He smiled at Hewitt, “One day I want to have kids of my own. I didn’t want them to grow up and ask me what I did in the war and I said something like, oh I translated at the peace conference. When I am back at school and meeting parents at parents’ evenings I want to be able to look the dads in the eyes. I want to know I did my bit. It is my country and I want to fight for it.”
Bill said, “I admire that but four of the lads who came with you will never have kids. Perhaps it would have been better if they had stayed at home and been the great dads I know they would have been.”
“Perhaps.” I could see he was not convinced.
As I had expected Fletcher ended up the biggest winner from the card school. It galled Gordy for we both knew that Fletcher wasn’t cheating but he knew how to win and Gordy could never figure out how.
We were all packed and ready to go by 0900 but there was no sign of our visitor. Warrant Officer Peters came to speak with us before we left. “We will miss you blokes. I know that we are doing something that needs to be done but transporting supplies doesn’t match up to what you Commandos did. When the war is over I can go home and tell my kids about what you did. I mean we don’t know the details but Flight Sergeant Harris told us where you were dropped.” He shook his head. “You got back twice!”
“It is what we do, Warrant Officer and we are grateful to you and your lads for all that you have done.”
“And as long as we are here, sir, we will tend those graves.”
“Thank you for that. I know they will be interred in a Commonwealth grave at the end of the war but it is good to know that someone will remember them.”
“Here they are sir.”
I turned around and saw a jeep and two lorries at the gate. Warrant Officer Peters saluted, “Cheerio sir.”
I held out my hand, “Take care Warrant Officer.”
My back was to the lorries and Lieutenant Poulson said, “Sir, it is Major Foster.”
I turned and saw that Major Foster was the passenger in the jeep. I wondered what this said about the hunt for the spy.
“Better get the lorries loaded with the gear as soon as they reach us, Sergeant Major. The Lieutenant and I will go inside with the major and have a chat.”
Toppy had a big grin on his face. He strode over to me and pumped my hand. “You cannot begin to know how much the Americans are singing your praises. Major Politho had the last mission down as a suicide job. I knew that you would get it done.”
“You knew about it?” We entered the hangar which was marginally warmer than the outside.
“After the event so to speak. I was in Paris when he arrived. I was there to tell them that we had caught our spy and so, as you were in the air by then, he was able to tell me the rough details. I was with him when the news came through that you had not only succeeded, you had actually got out. By air!” He shook his head. “After all these
years I should not be surprised but I am.”
“A spy sir?” The Lieutenant was a good play actor.
We both looked at Lieutenant Poulson. Major Foster said, “Of course. You did not know. There is no harm now I suppose. After all I was under suspicion.”
“You sir?”
“Start at the beginning Major.”
We sat down and the Major lit a cigarette, “There was a spy in Combined Headquarters. Everyone was under suspicion apart from Sergeant Tancraville, the Major’s fiancée. That was why we brought in Captain Ferguson and Sergeant Wilkinson.” He looked at me and shook his head, “It was maddening. I knew it wasn’t me but, like the other innocent people, I couldn’t prove it. It wasn’t as though we knew the moment the enemy had learned of the operations. They infiltrated a couple of spy catchers and they caught her.”
“Her?”
“You won’t believe who it was. It was Doris. You know the blonde with the red lips! Susan’s friend.”
“But she was, quite literally, the dumb blonde.”
“And that is why the German spy used her. Remember how she was keen to be on the arm of an officer?” I nodded. Toppy had been the target of her amorous advances. “Well this spy dressed up as a colonel and wined and dined her. He was a smooth talking Irishman and he played the part of a colonel of intelligence. He was clever enough not to be seen near Whitehall. Poor Doris thought he was doing the same job as she was. He spoke of the operations she dealt with as though he was privy to them himself. She never questioned the fact that she never saw him near other intelligence officers. That is how they caught them both. Doris was proud of her new man. One of the spy catchers was a woman. She took Susan’s desk and listened when Doris spoke of her love life. It didn’t take long to realise who the spy was. They then had to prove it and catch him. They were both arrested when they were in bed together.”
“What will happen to them?”
“Doris gave away secrets. Of course she was duped but she will have to go to prison. At least she won’t be shot. The Irishman will. He comes from Northern Ireland; he is IRA. So Susan is back on normal duties. She came out of this well. She has been given a section of her own to run. I am afraid she will no longer be your liaison.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “Anyway we are sending you and your team north. You will be working under Monty again. We are crossing the Rhine in the middle of March. You will be inserted before the push to secure a couple of major crossroads. The 6th Airborne will also be going in. Monty has finally learned to appreciate what you bring to a campaign. You two will come with me in the jeep. I can brief you on the way north. My driver will travel in the lorries.”