by Ronald Cove
Invisible FOE
Ronald Cove
First published in paperback by
Michael Terence Publishing in 2020
www.mtp.agency
Copyright © 2020 Ronald Cove
Ronald Cove has asserted the right to be identified as
the author of this work in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
ISBN 9781913653125
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or
otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher
Cover images
Tithi Luadthong, Laschi Adrian
Cover design
Copyright © 2020 Michael Terence Publishing
Sadly, since writing this book my beloved wife
passed away on Christmas Day 2019.
This book is dedicated to her.
No man could have had a better wife.
While writing this story, it occurred to me that most of us will accept that an army, that is not receiving adequate supplies when on the field of battle, could not be expected to win said battle. That being the case I think therefore it’s fair to say, with all due respect to their bravery, our young spitfire and hurricane boys could not have engaged such a well-trained force as the Luftwaffe, and come out victorious in what is now known as The Battle of Britain, without some equally brave men risking their lives, making sure those fighting machines our pilots flew were regularly supplied with fuel, without which those aircraft would never have left the ground, let alone won the battle. Of course, those brave men I speak of were in the 1940s loosely referred to as, tanker drivers.
Here, I would like to take the liberty of bringing one of those brave men to the notice of the reader. To save embarrassment to his family, who I knew quite well, I will refer to this man as Mr B. Anyway, it appears one day while delivering fuel to an airfield in Kent, a German bomber began unloading bombs on said airfield, so Mr B. and a member of the American air force dived straight under the tanker, which was full of high octane fuel, for cover and each lit a cigarette to steady their nerves. Not very clever one would say, but when you are being bombed, how clever can you be?! Nevertheless, that’s what happened. So many of those men did, in fact, lose their lives. Yet to date, I’ve yet to hear of one of them receiving a knighthood, or any other kind of recognition for their bravery come to that.
With this in mind, I’ve dedicated this book to all those long-forgotten tanker drivers.
- R. Cove
Authors Note
Although I have classified the following story as fiction, there is nevertheless a strong element of truth which runs throughout this narrative.
The reason I say this is because I myself was present on many occasions when these incidents, which I have described herein, occurred.
Please also note all names in this book are fictitious.
- R. Cove.
Contents
1: MAN ALONE
2: AWAY FROM DUNKIRK
3: HAPPY BIRTHDAY
4: THE JOURNEY BEGINS
5: THE START OF A CHASE
6: A VILLAGE CALLED HORNCHURCH
7: A QUICK VISIT TO FOLKESTONE
8: A WELL KEPT SECRET
9: STRIKE ONE
10: A VISIT TO LONDON
11: A MATCH TO BRIGHTEN THINGS UP
12: A FRUITFUL NIGHT
13: LATE AGAIN
14: GRANDMA SUSPECTS GAS
15: MURDERERS ROW
16: A NEVER ENDING ARGUMENT
17: A BREAKTHROUGH
18: SWINGING AT AIR AND JABBING AT SHADOWS
19: A CHANGE OF IDENTITY
20: MAN IN A BLUE SUIT
21: CARNAGE AT HEATHWAY
22: THE UNKNOWN SIDE TO PLUMPKIN
23: A BEARDED MAN OF DISTINCTION
24: WHERE DID HE GO?
25: A DISCOVERY
26: A ROOM GOES MISSING
27: A GUN AND A KISS GOODBYE
28: NEW LODGINGS
29: RETURN TO SCOTLAND YARD
30: A FAST TRIP TO WARLINGHAM
31: TOO LATE – AGAIN
32: A MERRY DANCE
33: A CHANGE OF LUCK
34: AUGER’S MISTAKE
35: HE JUST FADED AWAY
THE BLITZ
1:
MAN ALONE
A man clad in just khaki trousers, British army ammunition boots and jersey, stepped from behind a bush doing up the buttons of his fly, nodded to a group of passing bedraggled British tommies, smiled and remarked “That’s better”. The British soldiers were from an artillery battalion and were retreating to Dunkirk. The man was accepted by the group of tommies as just another tommy, who like themselves was retreating under the weight of the German onslaught. It was in fact a general retreat of the whole British and French armies to the Dunkirk beaches.
However, the man who stood about six feet, seemed delighted to meet up with a group of comrades, and made a point of explaining to any of his new found friends who wasn’t too tired to listen, that his name was Dick Fletcher and how his battalion the ‘Hampshire’ regiment had pulled out leaving him behind. His fellow travellers had spent the last two days fighting an overwhelming losing battle against German armour, so could therefore show no interest in his predicament. They could not even be bothered to enquire about the fact he carried no rifle and did not display any visible signs of the Hampshire Regiment, he therefore silently joined the small group of men in a sombre march to the Dunkirk beach.
Some two days later on their arrival on the beach, Dick Fletcher bid his new found friends good-bye, telling them he would rest awhile, then search for his regiment. He had in fact already spotted the cabin cruiser he had been instructed to look out for, so now edging towards the water he slipped off his boots and prepared for a long swim.
It was sometime later. While splashing about in the water just off the Dunkirk beach, he was trying desperately to obtain some sort of handhold on the side of a medium sized motor launch, which was tossing about in the sea close by him. Dick Fletcher real name Paul Egbert, Haupt-sturm Fuhrer (Captain) in Heinrich Himmler’s elite SS, at that moment was acting directly under Himmler’s orders.
Cpt: Paul Egbert, a survivor of the 1914-1918 war had distinguished himself in that 1st World War by performing several acts of daring on the battlefield. Noticeably among those deeds was in the first battle of the Somme in 1916, where at the tender age of 18 years, acting totally independently, the then Cpl: Paul Egbert had nonchalantly, while in the guise of a British officer posing as a certain Cpt: Brown, rode calmly into various allied gun emplacements on a white horse. Somehow convinced whoever was in charge, that he was from HQ and the Commanding officer was not too happy with that particular gun’s performance. The CO had therefore suggested that he, Cpt: Brown provided them with an alternative target. It was of course a pre-selected target, that Cpl: Egbert had already selected, and was designed to save many German lives.
For this courageous show of bravery he had been decorated with the Iron Cross, 1st class, and was also given a field promotion from Cpl: Egbert to Lt: Egbert. All this was bestowed upon him by no less a personage than Field Marshall Paul von Hindenburg himself. A citation went with this promotion, which contained a brief description of Cpt: Egbert. It read as follows:- Cpt: Paul Egbert, a man of six feet in height, light blue eyes, thinning brown hair, an inch long duelling scar just under the right eye. No other visible distinguishing marks, a very brave man with an exceedingly sharp mind. A man of various talents. A brief statement followed pointing out that Lt: Egbert joined the SS in 1937, and was quickly promoted to captain (Haupt-
Sturm Fuhrer. SS).
However Cpt: Egbert when thinking back, realised when he performed all those daring deeds back in that first war, he was a much younger and fitter man. Plus the fact back then for some unknown reason, he could never really take that war too seriously. Now unfortunately with some twenty years having slipped by, this war did not seem quite the same. For a start the Captain was convinced this Charlie Chaplin look alike man ‘Adolph Hitler’ really was mad, and did indeed want to rule the world.
2:
AWAY FROM DUNKIRK
Cpt: Egbert had been struggling in the water for about half an hour now, without much success. The cabin cruiser he was trying desperately to board kept rocking away from him each time a bomb exploded in the sea nearby. The effect of this caused the captain to give vent to certain feelings concerning that brilliant Luftwaffe fighter pilot of yesteryear, now Field Marshall Herman Goring, the present Commander in Chief of the Luftwaffe and minister for air, who had in 1918 with 22 kills to his name taken command of the famed von Richthofen Flying Circus.
At that particular moment however, the captain could not care less about Marshall Goring’s past achievements. At this very moment in time he could only curse the man for sending out so many of these overly eager, brave Luftwaffe pilots, to bomb the beach and machine gun the poor sods such as himself, who were stranded in the water.
The aircraft Cpt: Egbert was screaming obscenities at, at that particular moment had just deposited several bombs along the beach and had then audaciously manoeuvred his dive - bomber down to sea level and very skilfully, while skimming the tops of the waves nonchalantly, treated the men in the sea to several bursts of hostile machine gun fire, after which he then deposited two more bombs in the water close by the captain. For this heroic deed, this annoying brave Luftwaffe pilot received more kind words like “You bastard” from an angry Captain with a shake of his fist. None of which made the slightest difference. However the last bomb that struck the water exploded with such magnitude that it somehow managed to lift the captain bodily out of his watery incarceration, throwing him head first into the side of the motor launch, which had eluded him for nearly an hour.
After a few slaps around the face and several sips of cold water, Cpt: Egbert regained consciousness. To his surprise he found himself propped up on many cushions and actually sitting inside the cabin of the elusive boat, which he at once realised was well under way moving away from Dunkirk heading towards the distant shores of England, at about 8-10 knots, he guessed.
It was however, when a man wearing wellington boots and a roll neck jersey, whom Cpt: Egbert judged to be the owner of this small craft, offered him a small flask of brandy at the same time explained that he, the Captain, should sit tight. “I’ll be dropping the others off at a small jetty, but you stay put, you get off further along the coast,” Mr Wellington boots told him. So now with his head clearing and with the small boat cutting a neat path towards the shores of England, Cpt: Egbert settled back and began to recall just how he had allowed himself to be coerced into this mad scheme in the first place. So as he sat back smoking and watched as the English coast drew nearer, his mind began to wander and the events of the last three days came flooding back.
It all began he remembered at the end of May 1940 when he had been summoned to the orderly room, where he had learned that Reichsfuhrer SS Heir Himmler had sent for him and that he, Cpt: Egbert, should report to the Reichfuhrer SS Himmler at 11am that morning.
3:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
The dimwit of a bloody friend who presented me with a red, green and black regimental tie to wear on my birthday, had somehow neglected to have the bloody thing labelled as a fire hazard. I discovered this minor error when I leant forward to blow out my 44 candles that adorned my birthday cake. The bloody tie somehow sneaked out from behind the lapels of my coat, drifted forward and caressed the flames on the candles, which some other clown had made sure were well and truly alight, causing the bloody tie to immediately burst into flame. I naturally jumped back uttering a few chosen words.
It was however, Detective Inspector Dave Selby who stepped forward to save me from complete disaster. He pushed through all five of my well-wisherss who were at that particular moment all taking a giant step away from me, while at the same time giving out with lots of ‘oos and aahs’, and would you believe one bright spark even informed me that my tie was on fire. Dave simply clapped his hands together with my burning tie between them, thus extinguishing the flame. When he opened his hands again I was left with a half singed tie knot, bright red face, a burnt blistered nose, and one eyebrow missing completely.
I looked at Selby and was about to give him my opinion of silk ties and lit candles, when he raised his hand, smiled and said “No, don’t thank me now Bill, just buy me a beer later”. I smiled back at him “Lucky for me Dave you can still move so fast” I offered by way of a thank you. Having been friends for nigh on twenty-five years, I’m sure Dave knew and understood it was my way of saying thank you.
I had first met Dave Selby on the Somme battlefield back in 1916 when he was Sgt: Selby of the Rifle Brigade, (then attached to the 60th Rifles) in which I was serving as just plain Rifleman Billy Auger. It was in fact Sgt: Selby, who had guided me towards obtaining the rank of 1st battalion 60th Rifles sniper. It was also on that Somme battlefield we both stopped one. It happened as we began to retreat. Dave took one in the upper arm, while I graciously offered my leg for dear ol’ fritz to practice on. Anyway we both ended up limping around the Whitechapel hospital wearing the obligatory ‘blues’.
Dave Selby now Detective Inspector Selby had been a hard hitting very clever middleweight boxer in his day. He stood about 5’ 10”, strong powerful body, a mop of coal-black curly hair, with the face of a quick thinking hard-living man. On leaving the army we had stayed in touch. He had become a pro fighter and had pursued a reasonable successful career until his retirement in 1926, then after a short rest Dave had decided to join the police force, and now held the rank of Detective Inspector.
I on the other hand, on leaving the army had continued my not too brilliant boxing career. However, being a few inches shorter and somewhat lighter than Dave, I always stepped into the ring as a lightweight. Anyway, when I retired from my courageous fight career, I too became a police officer, and continued as I began by once again taking orders from Dave. By 1940 I’d reached the great rank of Detective Sergeant. Of course, nowadays I always refer to my boxing career as courageous, simply because if a man loses 11 fights in a row, and then has the audacity to sign for yet another fight, I reckon he’s either very courageous or plain bloody stupid, and a detective Sgt: can’t be stupid, can he?
However, at this point, Dave gestured towards my birthday cake “Look Bill, blow out them bloody candles and then we’ll nip down to the Crown and Anchor for a pint” he suggested. The candles went out with one puff, then we were on our way.
It was a few days after my birthday in May 1940 that Dave informed me he was expecting us to be called in to see the ‘Super’ one day soon. “What for I wonder?” I enquired. “I wish I bloody knew me ol’ mate” Dave responded. “Maybe he’s decided to promote us,” I remarked drily. “You’ll be bleedin’ lucky,” Dave chuckled.
4:
THE JOURNEY BEGINS
Late May 1940, the German minister of the interior, Reichsfuhrer SS Heinrich Himmler, sat at his desk in the new Reich Chancellery building in Berlin. Elbows bent, resting on his desk, fingertips touching pyramid fashion in front of his face, as though in prayer. His eyes betrayed a mind which was in a dark faraway place. Nevertheless a slight tap on his door brought this small egotistic man quickly back to reality. “Come in” he commanded in a not too manly voice. The door swung open to reveal an SS Captain who stood smartly to attention, while at the same time offering a somewhat indifferent stiff arm Nazi salute. In return he received a bent arm offering with a mumbled ‘Heil Hitler’. On entering the room and closing the door behind him, the Captain tu
rned to face the one time chicken farmer, now SS Fuhrer Heinrich Himmler. “Cpt: Egbert Sir, I believe you sent for me” his unhurried words drifted across to his superior. Himmler was surprised by the man’s overwhelming confidence, although he had read ample documents which proved beyond doubt just how brave and capable this man standing before him could be. In fact, only moments before the captains’ arrival, Himmler had been going through one such document, which told of how some weeks before the Somme battle, the Captain disguised as a French officer, went striding out despite any personal danger and ordered a French battalion who were building up for a fresh counter attack at Verdun to pull back. Having done so, he then faded out of sight, and next appeared in July that year, at the battle of the Somme.
Himmler addressed the Captain “Please take a seat Haupt-sturm (Captain)” he indicated an empty chair. “Danke mein heir” came a slow reply. Once the two men were seated Himmler removed a small pair of pince-nez which he had somehow contrived to balance on the bridge of his nose. After carefully cleaning each lens in turn, he replaced them with a well practised expertise. There then followed a moment of silence as Himmler studied the Captain who now sat opposite him. He could see at once that the Captains’ whole persona gave very little credence to a Germanic breeding. He was well aware that the man sitting opposite him could speak fluent English and French so therefore would create no suspicion when on the assignment the RSS Fuhrer had mapped out for him.
Breaking the silence Himmler said with conviction “Now Haupt-sturm, I shall come straight to the point” he then paused just long enough to retrieve a long white envelope from his desk draw. “First Haupt-sturm you must read this” he invited, handing the document to the now puzzled SS Captain. Captain Egbert stood and accepted the envelope with a frown. He then slipped a sheet of paper from the envelope, returned to his seat and read as follows:- On receipt of these orders the recipient will make himself available to be transported to a suitable area near the town of Dunkirk, there to ingratiate himself with the retreating allied armies. He will then endeavour to be transported with said armies across the channel where he will gain entry into the British Isles. There will of course be some danger involved in achieving the above, however it is hoped the recipient of this document will be capable of taking any necessary steps in order to overcome any difficulties that may arise. This document must be destroyed after the seal has been broken. Further verbal orders will be added by Reichsfuhrer SS Himmler. The Captain smiled, slipped the paper back inside the envelope and looked directly at Himmler, who had reverted to his old habitual manner of constantly pushing back his pince-nez glasses with his index finger of his right hand. He returned the Captains smile.