An artificer said, ‘No damage or casualties in engine
or motor rooms, sir.’ He gave a thumbs up to his mate. `Lieutenant Buck reports no damage in the fore ends,
sir. But one man’s broken his wrist.’ And so it went on.
Then they heard the distant revolutions again as the enemy began another slow sweep somewhere to starboard.
Simeon crossed to Marshall’s side, seemingly oblivious to the others nearby.
In a fierce whisper he said, `Get us out of this! Increase speed, do what you like, but get me out of it!’
Marshall regarded him coldly, half hearing the slow pattern of muffled engines.
`You said us the first time, sir.’
‘H.E. still closing from starboard, sir.’
Marshall did not turn. `I’m going to increase speed very soon now. When I surface, not before.’
‘H.E.‘s stopped, sir.’
Even the operator turned in his seat as Simeon exclaimed, `Surface? Are you bloody mad? You’ll kill the lot of us! Is that what you want?’
Marshall replied quietly, `The enemy’s stopped. That means they’re sitting up there on the surface like a couple of ducks. Probably using searchlights and looking for flotsam and oil slicks, or bodies maybe.’ He stepped away from him. `So we’ll stay down here. Silent routine until they go away.’
Simeon was shouting, his eyes wild. `And if they don’t go?’
‘Then we’ll have to stick it out till tomorrow night.’
Simeon gaped at the deck. `Tomorrow night. Another day of this?’
Frenzel said flatly, `By then they’ll have whistled up the heavy mob.’ He was watching Simeon with something like disgust. `We’ll have plenty of company.’
Marshall looked at him and shook his head. Then he said to Simeon, ‘I suggest you get a grip on yourself and I’ll….
Gerrard shouted, `They’ve started up their engines!’
They all looked at each other as the even thrumming beat grew and then began to fide until it was lost completely.
Marshall breathed out very slowly, ‘Ten minutes and then we’ll go up for a look.’
He leaned against the conning-tower ladder and found that his legs were shaking badly. He glanced up the ladder, The signalman was right. It was bending under the tremendous hull pressure.
The ten minutes seemed twenty times as long as the attack. Nobody spoke, and apart from the motor’s purring hum and the occasional creak of protesting steel, they stuck it out in silence.
Marshall looked at his watch. His vision was blurred with strain, and he knew there would be worse to come when he had got them to safety. Right now, it was all that counted. He thought suddenly of Browning’s face above the screen as he had made to go aboard the launch. Thanks, try boy. You know what for. What did he really mean? For replacing his dead son perhaps. Marshall hoped it was that.
He said, `Stand by to take her up, Number One. Periscope depth. But first warn all departments. In case we’re jumped as we pop up.’
But when they eventually rose to periscope depth Marshall found the sea devoid of movement.
He told Buck to take over the periscope and then walked to the intercom beside the wheel. He paused, his thumb on the button, not knowing what to say, or why he was trg ing to say it.
This is the captain. You all know about the attack. It’s been a noisy night.’ That would make someone smile. `Some of you still don’t know about Captain Browning.’ H° bit his lip and added, “‘Buster” to most of you. Well, he died back there. Doing something he thought was Worthwhile, as I did, and still do.’ He turned to hide his face from the others. `If he was still aboard, I’m sure he’d be the first to compliment you on the way you’ve behaved. I’m trying to do it for him. Thank you all.’ He tried again. `Very much.’
He released the button and said quietly, `Open the lower hatch. We’ll switch over to the diesels and begin charging as soon as I’ve had another look around.’
He saw Frenzel blocking his way to the ladder.
`What’s wrong, Chief?’
Frenzel faced him gravely. `I just wanted to say thanks to you, sir. From us.’ He tried to grin. `The lads.’
Marshall walked slowly to the ladder and paused with his boot on the bottom rung. When he looked up at the smooth sides of the tower he wondered if he had really expected to make that climb ever again.
The room looked just the same yet, without Browning behind his big desk it was totally different.
Marshall tried to relax in a cane chair, surprised that he felt no sort of tiredness anymore. He had berthed his submarine alongside the same depot ship in the early hours of the morning. Now, it was evening. It had been a very long day.
There were four others in the room. The Chief of Staff, two studious lieutenants and a most important visitor. He was Rear-Admiral Dundas, the top liaison officer with British and American Intelligence. In a neat, lightweight grey suit he looked rather like a retired schoolmaster.
Marshall had made his preliminary report soon after leaving the boat in the hands of the depot ship. Now he was back again for another session.
The rear-admiral pressed his fingertips together and regarded him through heavy-framed glasses.
`It might well have come off, you know.’ He shook his head. `Captain Browning was a resourceful officer. Always was, even as a young man.’
The Chief of Staff looked at him. His face was drawn, as if he had been on the go since receiving Marshall’s homing signal and the news of their failure to complete the mission.
He said, `We’ve had a lot more information since we last met. The Germans are building up stocks of radiocontrolled bombs, some are even larger and better than the one Marshall saw at work.’ He added grimly, ‘Whatever happens in the immediate future, we can expect to be faced with these bombs from now on.’ He turned to Marshall. `Once we’re in the enemy’s territory in strength, with captured airfields, easy supply lines and full R.A.F. and artillery support we can hold our own….’
He fell silent as Dundas said sharply, `But if our Sicily invasion is to have a cat in hell’s chance of succeeding, we must minimise the use of the new weapon.’
Marshall replied, `Captain Browning believed that, sir.’
Dundas eyed him unwinkingly. `You may as well know. After all, it’ll be your secret, as well as ours. The invasion, Operation Husky, is timed to take place three weeks and four days from tomorrow morning.’
Marshall looked at the wall charts which hung across Egyptian dancing girls. In those few seconds he saw it all. The destroyer, with Browning’s son aboard, blowing up and turning turtle in the twinkling of an eye. The blazing launch. Browning shaving before going to meet his old friend the Italian general.
Dundas was saying, `We can forget about the little dump of bombs already in Sicily. The first wave of commando will have to neutralise them. It’s the other dump on the mainland which is the real headache. Unless we can do something there we might just as well postpone the invasion. Maybe forever.’
Marshall stood up and walked to the nearest wall chart.
He said slowly, ‘You know about the other place then?’
‘Quite a lot. That fool Travis gave us some of the information, and our own agents have confirmed much of it. It’s a new port called Nestore in the Gulf of Policastro. It has good rail and road links to carry the bombs to different military sectors once they have been assembled further north, in the place where Travis was last working. By sea it is about one hundred and sixty miles to Palermo in Sicily. Not far. And with plentiful air cover the enemy would soon send over a massive supply once he realised our true intention. All our false information and certain other ruses to make him believe we’re going to invade through Greece would be so much smoke in the wind.’
Marshall studied the chart in silence. Nestore. He had not even heard of it. It was shown on the chart as a small fishing village.
As if reading his thoughts, the Chief of Staff crossed to his side and expl
ained. `The Jerries have made the place into a strongbox. It’s used for nothing but military purposes now, and all but a few local people have been evacuated from the area. We understand the bombs are brought by single-track railway to a new jetty and loaded direct into whatever ship they are using at the time. We don’t know a lot about underwater defences, but there is a boom, several observation towers, while to seaward the Italians are supplying a round-the-clock anti-submarine patrol.’ He grimaced. `Nasty.’
Dundas said wearily, `If Browning’s idea had come off, then things might have been very different. With the Sicily bomb dump out of action from the start, and our lads pushing inland, the Germans would have been hardput to change things in time.’
`What about a bombing attack, sir?’
Marshall turned to watch his reaction. Outside, on one of the anchored battleships, a marine band was playing ‘Sunset’. It could have been for Browning, he thought.
‘Out of the question, I’m afraid. For a start it would be too difficult to make a real impression. And almost more important, it would tell the enemy what we were really afraid of, and why, just as if we’d given him the date and time of the invasion.’
Marshall walked to his chair and stood with his fingers locked around its back. He thought suddenly of Simeon and wondered why he had said nothing in his report about what had happened. Up to today he had thought that he was exaggerating his own beliefs about Simeon merely because of his dislike for the man. His contempt. But now he thought differently. If Travis had intended to betray them from the start of the mission, he would certainly have said nothing of his secret knowledge of this new port. Nestore. Simeon’s unspoken insinuations about Travis’s wife, his crude haste to admit his mistake, they had done the trick, and cost Browning his life. The lives yet to be lost hardly bore thinking about.
‘I think we could do it, sir.’ He had spoken almost without realising it. Perhaps he had known all along it was what he must do. As these two men did, but were afraid to suggest it.
Dundas regarded him gravely. ‘Do you really know what you’re saying?’
Marshall did not reply directly. ‘We’ve had my submarine for months now, and yet perhaps none of us has properly understood how to use her to full advantage.’ They stayed silent, watching him as he began to move restlessly back and forth in front of the desk. Browning’s desk. ‘This one last job would prove our worth.’
Dundas added quietly, ‘And prove Browning’s faith was justified from the beginning.’
‘Yes, sir. Something like that. I’d like to believe that it all meant something. That we hadn’t wasted what we’ve gained.’
The Chief of Staff looked at the little admiral. ‘What do you think, sir?’
‘Think?’ He rubbed his chin rapidly. ‘I think it’s all we’ve got.’ He looked at Marshall. ‘What can I do to help you?’
‘I’d want a free hand, sir. Once we reach the place. My decision whether we go in, or turn and pull out if the situation’s hopeless.’
The Chief of Staff’s eyebrows rose very slightly, but dropped again as Dundas snapped. ‘Agreed.’ He looked at the nearest lieutenant. ‘Get Saunders on the telephone and tell him I want an interview with General Eisenhower within the next two days.’
As the man hurried away he added quietly, ‘By God, it’s quite an idea, Marshall. You’ll need every support for a landing party, but my people will deal with that. About thirty Royal Marine commando. You’ll have to cram ‘em in where you can, make the best of it.’
Marshall looked away. Dundas was probably thinking that the marines’ journey would only be one-way, so a little more discomfort hardly mattered.
Dundas said, `You can still back out, you know. But after tonight, it’d mean getting someone else. I’d understand, of course.’
Marshall smiled slowly. ‘I want to do it. I feel it has to be done like this.’
The admiral rose to his feet and held out one hand. ‘I don’t know what to say. I thought I’d seen and heard every sort of bravery. Yours is a new kind. I’m proud to have met you.’ He removed his hand, as if confused by his own sentiment, and snapped, `I’ll want maximim effort, Charles!’
The Chief of Staff smiled. `I’ll get my people on it immediately, sir.’ He looked at Marshall. `I can fix it for your company to go ashore, but for security’s sake they must stay in the naval camp area. My staff will get on with running repairs, and I understand from your chief that the starboard screw is a bit damaged after the last attack?’
Marshall replied, `A flaw in one of the blades. Could be awkward.’
The admiral waved his hand. `That’s your problem, Charles. Do what you can. Anything you need, call me.’
He looked up sharply. `I want you right out of it, Marshall. Clear your mind for the big one.’ He smiled. `I can’t give you more than three days, I’m afraid. But if I let you remain here you’ll be poking round the boat, chasing the depot ship staff, oh yes, I know you submarine commanders. And I want you ,fresh when you put to sea again. If anything goes wrong in Alex the Chief of Staff will carry the can, not you!’
`Thank you, sir.’
Marshall felt confused. She would know by now about her husband. Some of it anyway. Would she blame him? Would she still feel something for the man, now that he was dead?
He added, `I appreciate that, sir.’
‘One other thing.’ The admiral was very casual. `Your promotion to commander has come through. Congratulations. Of course, if the war ends tomorrow you’ll drop a ring immediately!’ He was smiling broadly. `So be off with you. The staff can fix local comforts for your officers, too. But not a word to anyone about the actual operation until I say so, right?’
‘Right, sir.’ The admiral had sounded like Browning. `And thanks.’
The smile vanished. `Thanks? I’m the one to be grateful. As will many others when you’ve pulled this one off.”
At least he had not said `if’.
Marshall picked up his cap and walked to the door. There he paused to look around the big room, remembering Browning’s pleasure, his pride in his own plan being accepted by the combined Chiefs of Staff. And telling him about his son. Everything.
Dundas said, `He was a fine man. I served under him once, so I should know. The mission you’ve undertaken is just the kind he would have welcomed in his younger days. He got a V.C. for one like it, but there’s not a medal in the world large enough for his courage.’ He dropped his eyes. `Or his integrity.’
I know, sir. I won’t forget him either.’
Marshall closed the door and hurried down the passageway towards the dying sunlight.
In the big room there was a complete silence until the remaining lieutenant exclaimed, `Surely, sir, it’s not possible, is it?’
Dundas turned from the wall chart and regarded him emptily. `An hour ago I’d have said it was completely impossible. But after meeting that young man this morning, and hearing him speak just now, I’m not certain of anything.’ His eyes sharpened behind the heavy glasses. `All I do know is, that if anyone can make a go of it, he will! So let’s have enough of this gloom and get on with the bloody war!’
It was one in the morning by the time Marshall reached the house beside the river. It was a warm night, and very still. After the fast drive in the Chief of Staff’s Humber, with dust swirling back from the wheels like the wake of a ship, the contrast was all the more apparent.
Marshall watched the car until it was lost along the shadowed road and then walked towards the doorway. All the way from Alexandria he had been thinking about this moment. How she would accept him. What she might say. It seemed incredible that it had pushed the thoughts of the impending mission to the back of his mind. But it had.
The door swung open even as he reached for it. He had been expecting Doctor Williams, or his wife, but it was the girl. With the light behind her she looked very slim. He could smell the scent of her hair and wanted to seize her bodily. Hold her. Not let go for a long time.
Ins
tead he said quietly, `I’m back. You shouldn’t have waited up.’ It sounded like he felt. Lost before he had begun.
She closed the door and took his arm. As the light played across her face her eyes looked very bright.
She said, `The others have gone to bed.’ She smiled. `Tact, I think.’
There was a meal of cold meat and salad on a small table. A bottle of wine stood in a bucket of ice beside it.
Marshall watched her as she spun the bottle in the bucket, felt his heart beat painfully just to see her.
She said, `The ice has nearly all melted. I will pour you some wine now, yes?’
He sat down and nodded.
`About your husband, Chantal. I don’t know what they’ve told you, but….’
She did not turn away, but he saw her fingers tighten on her bottle.
`They explained. I was so afraid this might happen. Right from the moment I heard, I began to worry.’
He replied, `I’m sorry. I thought you might feel like this.’ He did not know how to go on.
She turned very quickly, her eyes filled with concern.
`No! Not that!’ The bottle fell back into the bucket as she ran across the room. `I was afraid for you!’ She dropped on her knees beside his chair, her eyes searching his face. `You see, I knew him, Steven, really knew him! What he was like! When I learned they had sent him with you….’ She shrugged. `But it is over now.’ She touched his hand. `Let us not talk about it. You are back. I have been praying for that. Thinking about everything we did together.’
Marshall watched his own hand on her shoulder, felt the strain giving way to a peace he had never known.
He said quietly, `To hear you say that. To know….’
She looked up at him again, her mouth trying to smile.
`Do not look so sad, please. You are back. It is all I care about. When Doctor Williams told me it was over, L …’ Her hand gripped his wrist with surprising strength. `Steven, it is over? Tell me!’
He replied dully, `It didn’t work, Chantal. Something went wrong.’
She stood up by his chair watching him soundlessly.
Then she said very softly. `You’re going to do another mission? Is that what you are telling me?’
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