by Griff Hosker
We would now be more likely to be spotted. Since the gun fire in the fields and the attacks in the morning we had heard little gunfire. Whatever had gone on had now stopped. I knew it could not be the offensive but something had happened. We were in the dark. It could have been a German offensive or the Canadians could have started early. It made no difference to us for either would make the Germans we encountered more nervous and likely to fire first. The machine gun and the grenade would alert those ahead of us. I took out my Luger and a Mills bomb. I made sure my window was wound down as Emerson took us down the narrow country Normandy lanes. If we met any more Germans I would be ready. We were so close to Caen now that it was almost in touching distance.
We left the narrow lane and found ourselves on a larger road when we reached Bellengreville. We were less than a mile from the front line. We would need to find somewhere to dump the cars and sneak across after dark. Although it was a larger road it was filled with Germans. This time they were more observant. As we turned a corner, there, ahead of us, I saw a machine gunner by the side of the road. He had to swing swing his machine gun towards us. I put the Luger out of the window and emptied the magazine. The gunner and his loader were less than twenty feet from me and both fell. I was not certain that they were dead. Ahead I saw Germans turning to face us. "Fred turn right!"
He threw the wheel over and we hurtled down a lane just as wide as the car. There was a tearing sound as the paint was taken from the doors and the rear wheel arches were torn off. The Kübelwagen was smaller but I saw that two wheels almost lifted as it took the corner. There was the rattle of gunfire but we were briefly hidden. The lane had houses down the side. It was heading north, away from Caen.
"Follow this road until we are out of sight of the Germans. The more twists and turns the better."
As Emerson took another bend I saw, to my horror, that it was a dead end. We were trapped. There was no point in bemoaning our ill luck. We were Commandos and we would work our way out of the situation.
"Everybody out!" I jumped out with my Colt ready. The Kübelwagen screeched to a halt but Shepherd applied the brakes too late and he slammed into the back of the German staff car. "Get Wilkinson out and head west. Corporal Fletcher, leave the radio in the Kübelwagen. I am going to blow them up. Now run. Bill, stay with me!" I saw that ahead of us was a wall. It would disguise us if they could get Wilkinson over it. He was a big man.
Hay had the German submachine gun. I took the pin out of the Mills bomb just as a handful of Germans raced around the corner. Bill gave a short burst with his submachine gun and I dropped the grenade to the floor of the staff car. "Run!"
When we clambered over the wall I saw that Shepherd and Hewitt were supporting Lance Corporal Wilkinson. The other three were heading across the field of wheat. It left five of us to fight the Germans. Just then there was an enormous double explosion. The second was far bigger than a grenade alone. The petrol tank must have ignited. It would slow the pursuit. I shouted, "Private Beaumont, take point. Find us a way through!"
"Sir!!
We hurried through the wheat field. It was tempting to drop into it and hide but that would be a mistake. We had to put space between us. I turned and saw two Germans climbing over the wall. I took a couple of snap shots. They were too far away to be certain of a hit but they dropped back on the other side anyway. I saw that Private Beaumont had reached the western side of the field. He waved us over. My shots had bought us a little time but not much. The problem was we still had the front lines to cross. In a perfect world we would wait until dark but we lived in the real world. As we neared Private Beaumont I saw that there was a gate through the hedge. When we got through I saw, on the other side, Caen in the distance. It was tantalisingly close.
"Lance Sergeant Hay, booby trap the gate. Private Beaumont, take it steady. Emerson go with him." I threw him my silenced Colt. "Use that. We have to disappear. Find somewhere we can hide."
Private Emerson said, "Sir, the place is crawling with Jerries!"
I shrugged, "Hide or face the firing squad." He ran after Private Beaumont. I looked at Wilkinson, "How are you, Joe?"
"I'll be fine sir. I don't need these two watching me."
"We never leave a man behind! You will not be the first!"
"Done!" Bill Hay was a master of booby traps.
"Right lads it is not over yet!"
We headed across the field. The ground dipped and we lost sight of Caen. At the other side I saw Emerson but no Private Beaumont. Fred said, "Sir, Rog said to wait here. There is a house ahead and he thinks it is empty."
I was not certain about that. The Germans would check such places but Private Beaumont was the brightest of my men. He would have thought this through. "Right, go!" I watched them as they all ran after Freddie.
Just then I heard the crack of the grenade we had left on the gate. They were close. As I slipped through the gap in the hedge I saw the house. It was off to the side. Private Beaumont was alone and he was sliding down the pebble drive which led to the road. He said, "I thought we would make them think we had gone this way. " He slithered down to the gate and opened it. I saw that the skid marks from his feet were clearly visible.
"Well done. Let's get under cover."
Once inside the house I reloaded my Luger. I placed four grenades, my last four, next to me and I peered out of the window. The last of the afternoon light was fading fast and soon it would be night. Reloaded, I stared at the gap in the hedge. There was a rattle of gunfire and then four Germans pushed their way through the hedge and stared around them with submachine guns at the ready. One of them pointed at the disturbed stones and the open gate. The four ran off and were followed just a moment later by a full squad. They did not hesitate but ran after their comrades. I knew it was not over but we now had a chance.
"Shepherd, Fletcher, check out the house and see what you can find. We may be here all night."
"Sir!"
"Emerson, nip upstairs and see what you can see. Hewitt how is Wilkinson?"
As Freddie ran upstairs Hewitt checked the wound. "A bit of bleeding, sir, but nothing to worry about."
"I told you, sir, I don't need a minder!"
"You will have two until we see the British lines again."
Fletcher and Shepherd returned with some cans of fruit they had opened and two bottles of red wine. "The rest was all mouldy sir."
"Right, divvy it up but go easy on the wine. Make sure Joe has a couple of glasses. It will help with the pain."
"I can manage, sir."
"I know Joe."
The tinned peaches were a luxury. I let the juice drip down my chin. I knew the sugar in them would keep me going. The rough red wine tasted sour after them and I just had the one mugful. I needed to be sharp. Emerson whistled from upstairs and I looked out of the window. Two Germans were returning through the gate. They stopped outside the front door. I pointed to Private Beaumont with my silenced Colt. He nodded. Corporal Fletcher had a second Colt ready.
I heard one German voice, "They might be in here."
I was willing them to move on. If they did not then they would die. The second sealed their fate. "We might as well check inside. Besides there might be some wine."
We were all pressed into the walls as they opened the door and stepped inside. The two Colts sent two bullets into each of them. "Get them inside quickly and lock the door."
Bill Hay and Ken Shepherd dragged them inside and shut the door. A few minutes later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, I heard the rest of the patrol approach.
Someone tried the door. "It looks like Karl and Christian checked the house. Those damned Commandos must have escaped. They are slippery bastards!" Their voices receded into the distance.
We waited, after they had gone, until it was pitch black. "Time to go. Wilkinson and his nurses in the middle. Hay, you and Shepherd watch the rear. Private Beaumont, with me."
We went through the gate. It led to a lane and we followed it. The Ger
man patrol had not been away long and that meant that the front line was close. It was after dark and the Germans would be nervous but their attention would be on their front and not their rear. We almost stumbled upon it. A German soldier was walking towards us. Private Beaumont had quick reactions and the silenced Colt killed him instantly. I managed to catch him before he fell to the ground and I lowered him gently.
I mimed for Private Beaumont to stay there and I headed off into the dark. Now that I knew the Germans were near I used my nose to smell them out. Every nationality of soldiers has a unique smell. I think ours must have been corned beef and Woodbines. The German tobacco and the smell of cabbage identified the Germans. I walked twenty yards to my left and saw some shadows. The barrel of a machine gun could be seen. I took out two grenades. I pulled the pins on both of them. I tossed one into the machine gun post and then hurled the other as far to my left as I could. I dropped to the ground and the two grenades went off in rapid succession. I shouted, in German, "The Canadians are attacking! Stand to!" I ran back to Private Beaumont and waved my men forward.
The was a fusillade of bullets as the Germans reacted to my shout. The Germans thought that we were reinforcements come to their aid. As my men burst through we fired on both sides of us taking the Germans by surprise. We clambered over the sandbags and rolled down the other side. My fear now was that the Canadians would open fire. I hissed, "Keep low!"
There was a cry of pain. I turned and saw Lance Corporal Wilkinson and John Hewitt lying in a heap. Running back I saw Hewitt stagger to his feet. "I am fine sir."
Wilkinson was holding his leg which was bleeding. He had been hit again. "Leave me sir!"
I handed my gun to Hewitt and heaved Wilkinson over my shoulder. He was a dead weight! The rest of the section were squatting , waiting for us. Bullets were still being fired and how we avoided being hit was a miracle. I lumbered on and my men formed a human shield behind us. I saw the barrel of a tank ahead. It was facing me. I guessed it was Canadian and I shouted, "British Commandos coming in!" I trusted that Lieutenant Ross had passed on our message and I ran ahead of my men, expecting a bullet at any second.
When a grinning Canadian sergeant stopped me I breathed a sigh of relief, "You guys sure live dangerously!"
Chapter 8
The Canadians got on the radio as we were taken past the Sherman tanks which blocked the road. We left Joe with their doctor. His leg had bled all the way back. As he lay on the cot he said, "I owe you my life, sir."
I shook my head, "I told you, we don't leave one of our own behind." I shook his hand. "Thank you for what you did on this operation. We couldn't have done it without you."
The doctor said, "Captain..."
"I know. We are going. See you Joe."
We walked through the Canadian lines. I heard a shout from the dark. "Sir!"
I looked up and saw Sergeant Poulson and Lieutenant Ross. They were standing by a German half track. We went over and Private Emerson ran his hands over the machine. I said, "Where did you get it?"
Lieutenant Ross pointed to the Canadian lines. "Jerry launched an attack yesterday at dawn. They tried to break through our lines. They captured this. We said we would take it to the collection point." He smiled, "We will won't we sir?"
I smiled, "Lieutenant Ross, we might make a Commando of you yet. Right lads, all aboard!"
I sat in the back with my men. Those who smoked lit up their first cigarette since we had started the operation. I was amazed that any of them still smoked. They had been able to give up for almost forty hours and yet they all sucked greedily on their first cigarette. The glow of their cigarettes seemed like fire flies. I just looked up at the sky. There had been more than one occasion when I thought we were not going to make it back. Had it not been for the German sudden offensive and its defeat we might not have had the confusion which aided us. I hoped that we would not have to go as far behind the lines in the future.
Bill Hay, one of the non smokers, said, "What will happen to Wilkinson sir? He was a good lad."
"We only had him for this one operation. He is due promotion and when I write my report he will get one. We already have a sergeant in this section."
Bill nodded, "I wasn't sure that an outsider would fit in with us sir, but he did."
I knew what Bill was thinking. He had found it hard to be accepted by the section but then he had come from a section where he had been treated badly. It had taken capture by the Germans of the two of us for him to have his St. Paul's moment.
"Hopefully we will have Barker and Davis back soon."
"And then what sir?"
"Oh I daresay they will find more jobs for us. We keep doing the impossible."
When we reached the LCA it was close to dawn. Sergeant Poulson parked the half track out of sight. We would take it to the scrap collection point ... eventually but it was still serviceable and we wasted nothing. We collapsed into our beds.
I was the first up. I only needed a couple of hours sleep. I needed a change of uniform. The blood from Wilkinson's leg had hardened on my battle dress. In addition I had reports to write. I had a good wash and changed into a clean uniform. I put my battle dress in a bucket of river water to soak the blood out. I went to the mess. The rating whose turn it was to be cook said, "You missed breakfast, sir. I can do you a cup of tea and some toast if you like. One of the lads liberated some jam! The French have nice jam sir; big bits of fruit!"
"That'll do nicely."
I took the mug of steaming tea and the plate of hot toast and jam up on deck and then across to the building we used. I had work to do. Lieutenant Ross was there busy writing. He looked up, "Sergeant Poulson has gone for a run. He said something about getting fit enough to go with you the next time."
I nodded and bit into the toast. The rating was right, the jam was good. "He is a soldier who likes action. Most of my men are the same. I am not certain how they will get the same thrill when the war is over." I rinsed my mouth with tea. "What are you writing?"
"I thought I would make a start on the reports for you, sir. I have topped and tailed the report and written the parts I knew."
"Thanks. That is good of you."
"Will we be back to England after this sir?"
"I don't know. Officially the mission is not over until aerial photographs confirm that we blew up the dump."
"You must have, sir! We heard the explosion from here. The sky was lit up by the burning fuel."
"It was a well made complex and bigger than I thought. We will see. The camera boys will get a better picture. The camouflage netting will have been destroyed that is for certain."
It took an hour or so to write the report. By then Sergeant Poulson was back from his run. "How is the wound?"
"Hardly bothers me, sir. I can keep going longer these days. I am not ready yet but I will be."
"I am not certain we will be in action any time soon so don't push yourself too far." He nodded. "Come on let's go and wake the sleeping beauties. I have some dhobi to do."
Lieutenant Ross looked up, "Dhobi sir?"
"Washing! We don't have servants out here, John. We all do our own washing,"
He shook his head in disbelief. He was learning about life on the front. Most of the men were already up. The exception was Fletcher. Bill Hay organised breakfast. They fried corned beef and had it with powdered egg. It was as close to a fried full English as they could get.
Private Emerson wolfed his down. "Sir, can I have a look at the German half track? You never know when it might come in handy."
I smiled, "Of course, Fred, and I dare say our young engineer will want a shufti too!"
Private Beaumont grinned, "Yes indeed, sir."
"The rest of you; make and mend. We have had no more orders yet but you never know."
I took my washed battle dress up on deck to dry it. I saw Bill Leslie approaching. He did not look happy. "Just had word from the skipper, sir. We are back to the beach. A troopship has arrived and we are to ferr
y them ashore."
"So he would like us off his boat eh Bill?"
"Like yesterday, sir. Sorry."
"No problem. We have enjoyed your hospitality. Lance Sergeant Hay, we are leaving LCA 523. Have the men take all our gear ashore."
"Right sir."
Bill Leslie looked around and handed me a lemonade bottle with a brown liquid. "I managed to put you and your lads on the books for rations, sir. You didn't manage 'up spirits' and I saved it for you and the lads."
"Isn't that against King's Regulations, Petty Officer Leslie?"
He gave me an innocent smile, "Well you know the King better than I do, sir. You have met him. What do you reckon?"
"I think he would approve. Thanks Bill." I took the bottle.
He said, quietly, "It's neaters sir. I would water it down!"
Laughing I said, "I will miss the old 523."
"In this war you never know. We may see each other again."
"I hope so."
It was mid afternoon when the landing craft headed downstream. It had been a comfortable berth. The half derelict house would take some work if we were to stay there for any length of time. Sergeant Poulson and Lance Sergeant Hay soon got the men organised to clean up the rooms we had not used. Even Emerson and Private Beaumont were dragged away from their half track. The only one not involved was Lieutenant Ross.
He burst into the maelstrom of dust and mayhem as excited as I had ever seen him, "Sir, sir! It worked!"
Everyone stopped, "What worked?"
"The raid, sir. London has just been on the radio. The aerial photographs just came back. It looks like half of the dump has been destroyed. London said there were tankers taking the remainder and heading east! The RAF have been shooting them up!"
The men all cheered.
"Good and are there any orders for us? Our lift home has left so what does Major Foster have in mind for us?"