Invisible Foe

by Ronald Cove

  Mr Daniel Ross invited us into his living room, at the same time offering us a tea. He was a man of medium build, dark hair with a sharp serious face. We refused the tea but accepted a cigarette each, then dear old Daniel started in on his story. First we learnt he was fifty-one years of age, served as a company runner in 1914/18 and now lived alone, his wife having run off with a younger man two years ago. So nothing new to write home about there.

  At this point Dave brought Daniel back to what we were there for and persuaded him into telling us about his encounter with this bloke he saw taking photos of the Hornchurch airfield. Old Dan looked from one to the other of us with raised eyebrows “But I’ve already told your Sergeant at the police station” he said slightly bemused. “Yes, we do appreciate that Mr: Ross, however I’m afraid we were only told that someone had seen somebody else taking photos of the airfield, they gave no descriptions or further details, so you see Mr: Ross we would like to hear it straight from you” Dave informed him, then quickly added “Look Mr: Ross, perhaps you would like to give Sgt: Auger here a statement” Dave encouraged as he moved a chair nearer the table so I could sit next to old Dan. The poor old sod shrugged his shoulders, lit another cigarette then made himself ready to deliver his story once again while I lay my notebook and pen on the table, lit a cigarette and nodded to poor Dan to begin his narration. “Well what happened” he began “I was out walking, must have been Wednesday or Thursday of last week. I nipped into Fred’s café”. I stopped old Dan there “Oops, ‘ang on, you’ve lost me there mate, this Fred’s café, where exactly is that?” I asked. “Oh yes, of course” he apologised. “Right, that’s ok, now if we could just continue mate” I smiled, coaxing him into moving on with his story. He went on “Right, Fred’s café, it’s quite easy to see really, it’s right opposite the railway station, you can’t miss it, his name is clearly displayed out front” Dan explained before continuing his story. “Now where was I? oh yes, that’s right, it was as I came out of Fred’s café I first saw him. He walked across the road and started talking to a couple of school boys that were obviously on their way to school, he then walked along with them. At first I thought he was one of the lads Father, coz he kept indicating like he wanted to take their photo. You see he had this concertina camera that he kept lining up on them, which I thought to be rather strange anyway”. Dan suddenly stood up “You blokes fancy a cuppa yet?” he asked making his way through to the kitchen, although before we could answer he’d called back “Good, I’m bloody gasping meself”

  Having served up the tea Dan went back to his narration “Yes you see, this bloke followed these young boys right into the boys Suttons Senior School grounds” Dan went on smoothly. “‘Ang about,” I said “‘Ow d’yer know that Mr: Ross?” “Oh, that’s bloody easy, I followed them” he replied. “Good, now please go on” I requested. He did so, “Well it’s like I said, the kids went on into the school and this old codger with the camera took a sneaky look over the school fence into the airfield, then before you know it this bugger had found something to stand on and is hanging over the bloody fence taking pictures, and that’s about it” he concluded. I smiled at him, put a nice full stop on my paper and looked at Inspector Dave Selby. “Anything else Sir?” I asked. Dave shook his head at me, then turned to Mr: Ross “Just one thing more would be appreciated Mr: Ross, if you could give us an idea as to what this man looked like, you know, how tall and so on” was Dave’s last request. “Oh yes I see” old Dan commenced “Well at one point I did stroll quite close to him, and in consequence can tell you that this man stood about six foot, had light brown hair, but apart from that, what intrigued me most was his camera, it had a pull-out lens and I’m sure it was a German Liecer camera, mind you it seemed pretty new, so there you are. I think, that’s about it, I believe” he stopped, then quickly started again “no wait a minute, he had a scar on his face under one eye, I think”. “Which eye?” Dave quickly asked slightly agitated. Dan waited a moment, visualising in his minds’ eye I guessed, just where he had stood in relation to our phantom photographer. “That’s it, it must be his right eye” he finally worked out. “Well that’s good Mr: Ross now is there anything else you can think of before we leave?” Dave finished. “No, I don’t think so” dear old Dan let us know. “Ok in that case, thank you for the tea and so much valuable information Mr: Ross, if you do happen to think of anything further, just ask for Detective Inspector Selby or Detective Sgt: Auger at the police station” Dave informed him. We then shook hands with Danny boy and left.

  7:

  A QUICK VISIT TO FOLKESTONE

  It was someone shaking his shoulder that awoke Cpt: Paul Egbert, and strangely enough the captain was alert in an instant. “You’re alright Captain it’s only me” a voice close by softly whispered. “Ah right, must have dozed off” the captain confessed sitting up straight, glanced through one of the boats small windows, where he at once discovered the little craft had come to rest on the beach alongside a jetty. “Don’t tell me we’ve arrived already!” he exclaimed. On standing he realised it was the man who had originally been wearing the roll neck jersey and wellington boots that was addressing him. “So what happens now?” Captain Egbert asked of this man, who was now dressed in a blue suit, spotless white shirt and grey tie which put a pair of highly polished brown leather shoes to the test. “Well there is a bundle of civilian clothes under that bunk your sitting on Haupt-sturm Fuhrer, you’ll also find some papers in a coat pocket with further instructions, may help later, and I don’t know about you Haupt-sturm, but for me it’s a case of returning to my regiment as quickly as possible” came an unexpected reply. “Yes well where exactly do I go?” the captain ventured. “Oh that’s easy Heir Haupt-storm, you go straight up the beach there, and make your way along Beach Walk, which is just over to your right” the man pointed. “Halfway up that slope you’ll find the Folkestone police station, all you have to do is tell them you’ve escaped from Dunkirk, show them this boat if you have to. I don’t think they’ll question you further” he concluded. “That’s all very well, but they’re not stupid” the captain replied. “No, they’re not, I agree Haupt-sturm Fuhrer, but they are English, and knowing that their army is being slaughtered at Dunkirk, these arrogant Englishmen will take one look at you and automatically assume you are one of their brave boys determined to get back home and prepare to go back into action and deny the terrible Hun the pleasure of landing on British soil” he explained.

  The captain had no idea just what this man had in mind nevertheless he could see the sense in what this man was saying. “Ok, so now we must part” he offered his hand adding “Mister” he then waited for the man to reveal his name. Although receiving a firm handshake, was surprised at what the man said next. “Sorry heir Haupt-sturm but as they say in England ‘nice to have known you old boy but no names, no pack drill’, and if I don’t see you again good luck and remember, I was never here. You and a few other lads commandeered this boat at Dunkirk. You all agreed by making your way in this small craft across the channel, you all stood a better chance. Is that clear Heir Haupt-sturm?” The captain nodded with a smile. “Once again, good luck”. Having by now jumped off the boat, the man looked up at Egbert and informed him he should make haste as the tide was now coming in. With that his comrade was gone.

  Cpt: Egbert on observing the tide now creeping up the shore decided it was also time for him to vacate this small craft. He dragged out and quickly checked the bundle of civilian clothes from under the bunk, then having satisfied himself that he carried no form of identification, picked up a spare tin hat, commandeered a 303 rifle that some good Samaritan had considerately left behind. He leapt off this small motor launch, and immediately became aware and slightly bemused when a crowd started gathering and suddenly began cheering, with lots of hand clapping thrown in. There then followed several pats on the back with shouts of ‘well done tommy’ added. The captain thought how ironic and could not stop a broad smile caressing his face. He accepted their
praise by thanking one here and there and shaking hands with others.

  Quite suddenly with all his well-wishers left behind on the beach, the captain found himself lumbering up Beach Walk. On reaching Folkestone police station his mind already made up, and having recalled Heinrich Himmler’s words, which clearly stated ‘once in England Cpt: Egbert you have carte blanche’, he therefore decided to bypass the police station, instead find a railway station. Nevertheless his immediate worry he thought, would be to sort out a place of lodging, preferably somewhere in Kent.

  However, at this point he realised navigating his way past the police station would present some difficulty in itself. Conscious of the fact, that at any moment, a police officer could step outside the station and ask one or two awkward questions of him. Cpt: Egbert now using his nom de plume, Dick Fletcher, slung his rifle into the natural trail position of a rifleman, and with the bundle of civvies tucked under one arm straightened his back and marched with purpose straight past the Folkestone police station. It wasn’t until he was several paces beyond said station that he breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, now for the nearest railway station” he mumbled to himself while striding into the Folkestone High Street.

  On finding the railway station Dick Fletcher sought and found the men’s toilet, once inside said toilet he quickly changed his clothes, then sat and read through the documents he’d been lumbered with, nevertheless a wallet in the inside jacket pocket crammed with English banknotes pleased him, but he was surprised to find that an application had already been lodged on his behalf to join the RAF. The document also informed him a sympathiser would contact him in due course, and interestingly it even supplied him with the name ‘Big Harry’ a café on the High Street, where he should order one slice of toast, a mug of tea no sugar or milk at lunchtime any day.

  *

  It was about this time a Wolseley saloon car drew up outside the Folkestone police station. “This looks a cosy place Dave,” I told my superior DI Dave Selby as we both climbed the few steps which led into the station. Once inside we could see it was a far more substantial building than the one we’d left behind at Hornchurch. However, apart from three or four police officers sitting around drinking tea and smoking, the only other thing that caught our eye was a large photo of Winston Churchill hanging on the inside of the room door, which some bright spark had deemed to be a good idea in order to hide a dartboard. Anyway it was a uniformed Sergeant who’d crept up behind us, tapped Dave lightly on the shoulder and enquired “Can I help you gents?” Dave spun round to face him. “Oh yes Sergeant,” he said, at the same time holding out his credentials and telling the Sergeant who we were. “Oh I see Sir, well I’m Sgt: Nichols and I believe what you must have done is inadvertently walked in through the wrong door, therefore you and your Sergeant must have walked past the entrance desk without me seeing you Sir” the Sergeant rattled off. “Ah well, never mind Sergeant, no harm done,” Dave offered up in our defence, his eyes searching round the room for the correct door we should have come through. Finally gave up, turned back to the Sergeant “anyway what we want is to see whoever is in charge here Sergeant” Dave told him. “Ah well, I’m sorry there Sir, but both the Super and our chief of detectives have gone to a briefing over in Margate, can’t say when they’ll be back Sir” the Sergeant informed us. Dave studied the man for a moment, then turned to me. “What d’yer reckon Bill?” he enquired of me. I thought for a moment then nodded towards Sgt: Nichols “Perhaps the Sergeant will know” I suggested. Dave looked doubtful, turned back to the Sergeant “Right ok then, in that case, maybe you can help Sergeant” Dave told him now looking very serious. “I’ll do my best Sir” the Sergeant sighed, now seemingly getting cheesed off with it all. “Right, well look Sergeant, at Dover and other ports along the way, there seems to be a great number of our troops being ferried ashore from the big ships” Dave began rattling on, so I butted in and said in a subordinate manner “Excuse me Sir, but I think it might be better if you get straight to the point”. Dave gave me a sly smile “You’re right Sgt: Auger,” he acknowledged, and to Sgt: Nichols said “Look Sergeant what we’re looking for is any small boat that may have slipped across the channel alone, with let’s say just half a dozen odd bods aboard, who could have come ashore unnoticed. Now can you help us there Sergeant?” Selby concluded. Sergeant Nichols looked at Selby and myself as though we were both completely nuts. “Can I help you, you say?” he began “Well I say I can Sir, you see the poor sods have been coming off the beach since yesterday afternoon, in fact this morning alone, bloody hundreds must have walked by this very station Sir” he shook his head “bloody pitiful sight it is Sir, to see a beaten soldier, why most of the poor little buggers can’t even bear to look you in the eye” the Sergeant broke off there. We could see his feelings were getting the better of him now. “Oi Harry” he suddenly called “see if you can rustle up a nice cuppa for us three”. “Right Sarge” a solitary voice replied.

  Selby took this opportunity to offer round his cigarettes. After we all had a lung full of smoke and the tea had arrived, Sgt: Nichols blew his nose then turned back to DI. Selby. “Yer see Inspector they’re mostly young lads, God bless ‘em, seem to think they have let us down in some way” he now glanced directly at me “well I don’t know” he continued “it’s like I keep telling the silly little buggers, we all thought that in the last bloody shindig” he sighed. I gave him a half smile. “Look at the first go we had at the bloody Somme for Christ sake. Some twenty thousand men copped it at the first bloody rush”. At this point Selby raised his hand “Yes Sergeant we do know, Sgt: Auger and I were part of that mad dash” Dave kicked in “and I’m afraid it’s something none of us will ever forget” he promptly added. There followed a short pause “Anyway” Dave continued “the powers that be reckon with our boys flooding back like this, we must be diligent and guard against jerry sneaking in one or two of their own, just to keep us lot on our bloody toes, do you understand Sergeant?” Dave said. Sgt: Nichols seemed slightly stunned by this revelation, but nevertheless quickly jumped in with “Oh no don’t you worry on that score Sir, we’ve all been warned to keep an eye out for them bloody termites. I doubt any will get by here Sir” he assured us with a knowing smile. Dave nodded, gulped down the last of his tea, he then shook hands with the Sergeant, said “Good, I’m glad to hear that Sergeant” and drew my attention to the fact that we were about to leave. Sgt: Nichols turned to me, shook my hand saying “Good luck in your search, hope you catch the bastards” I gave him a friendly smile then obediently followed my leader out through the door, down the steps and into the waiting car.

  *

  Dick Fletcher now wearing a medium grey suit handed over the stipulated sum of money that Mrs: Davies, his new landlady, required in advance to secure a room for one months’ lodging. He had explained to her that he needed a permanent address as he was expecting his call up papers at any time now. He also added it would be nice to have a place to come home to when on leave. Mrs: Davies had in turn said she understood and promised she would always hold one room spare just for him. “Well that’s very nice of you Mrs: Davies, I must say” he offered his gratitude in a sincere manner. “Oh, there’s no need for thanks, and by the way my name is Sally” she replied. “Right, well in that case Sally, my name is Richard,” he said as he started patting his pockets as though searching for something. He then suddenly turned back to her “I wonder if you would excuse me Sally, I seem to have run right out of cigarettes, I’ll just pop out and get some” he said offering her a manly smile. “That’s alright dearie, I’ll make us a nice cuppa when you get back” she promised.

  Now as Dick Fletcher walked along Warlingham High Street, it began to dawn on him just how lucky he had been in the last couple of days. His first stroke of luck came when he met a fresh-faced tanker driver and decided to hitch a ride with him from Folkestone. The petrol tanker driver happened to be sitting next to him in Big Harry’s café on the Folkestone high street, and overheard him order
ing one slice of toast and a mug of tea without sugar and milk and overheard him mention to a waitress, that he was waiting for the RAF to send him his calling up papers. Therefore he would like to get to Warlingham as soon as possible, so he would be near to Biggin Hill, where he knew most of the new intake of men start their training, and that’s when the second stroke of luck came his way. The tanker driver, nicknamed Red on account of his mop of bright red hair, told him in strict confidence that he could give him a lift to Warlingham which was, as Red explained, just a few miles from Biggin Hill, where he was due to deliver his next load. So later true to his word, Red had dropped him off in Warlingham High Street, after telling him where a very sociable landlady named Mrs: Davies would no doubt have a room for rent.

  8:

  A WELL KEPT SECRET

  Hornchurch, a quiet little country village right out in the sticks, and there we were Dave and me, five o’clock in the afternoon, and the bloody siren is blasting off a bleedin’ warning again. “Ol’ jerry must hate this little village Dave” I remarked as we entered that old shack they call a police station. “I don’t know why” Dave grimaced. “Anyway just as long as they don’t bomb the bloody place while we’re ‘ere” Dave offered with a smile. “Ah, don’t put the bleedin’ mockers on it mate” I sighed. It was then I suddenly received a hefty clump on my back which very nearly knocked me off my bloody feet. The blow was delivered by a big man that came up behind me. “Well I’ll be buggered, how are you doing my old mate” a voice behind me wanted to know. On straightening myself up, I knew the voice, it came from the past. Nevertheless I had to wait a second or two for my teeth to settle back in place before turning round.