by Jack Murray
‘You realise we have to be halfway up their arse before we can kill them. How the hell does that work? What do we do? Shout, “Oi, look over there,” then calmly drive up and take a pot shot? Well, Danny, I can tell you it ain’t that easy. They expect us to die. They expect us to keep going at them until our tanks are climbing over our dead bodies and the Jerry has run out of ammo. It will be just like the last war, trust me. They’ve learned nothing. I’m not having it, Danny.’
‘Don’t do anything silly, Bob.’
‘Why not? Look what happened to Harn. He’ll spend the war in warm, comfy jail, just you see. But he’ll live. They’ll let him out. Sure, he’ll have a bad name but who’ll care? Who’s the idiot here?’
‘He won’t live if Hitler wins, Bob.’
-
Lieutenant Greening assembled the men from his section which included Danny, Arthur and Bob. Greening was a former cavalry officer who had transferred to the RTR. Although he was nicknamed ‘Lord’ Greening by the men, he was well-liked. In his late twenties, he radiated composure and competence. His wavy blonde hair and dandified appearance might have counted against him had he not proved himself fitter than the majority over assault courses, an expert marksman and a sympathetic leader.
He was accepted by old sweats in the battalion, the ones who had survived France and the Dunkirk evacuation. This was more than could be said for new arrivals such as Danny. They had yet to prove themselves. This meant they were either ignored or generally disregarded. Greening mingled easily with the men, making sure to have a word with everyone. He sat down with Danny and Arthur.
‘Chaps, you’ve probably heard me chatting to the others by now. I won’t add much to what old “Detention” has announced,’ said Greening. This caused both men to laugh. Another reason to like Greening was his use of Colonel Drew’s nickname. If anything, Drew was harder on his officers than on the men.
‘Perry, as a married man, you’ll be able to go on embarkation leave from tomorrow. As there are so few married men, Shaw, you can also go if you like. We just need to keep a balance of fifty-fifty going and staying. You and Owen can go back together if you like.’
Danny grinned and said, ‘I might try London for a night. Never really been before, sir.’
Arthur replied, ‘Here we go. I suppose you’ll be looking for a place to stay?’
‘Now that you mention it.’
‘Told you,’ said Arthur looking at Greening.
‘I’ll leave you gentlemen then. You seem to have matters in hand.’
Greening left them to speak to Bob. Danny looked at his friend. Bob was laughing nervously with the lieutenant. He turned to Arthur and said, ‘So you’ll put me up then?’
‘You can meet the missus and the family but one word. If you so much as look at my little girl, then it ain’t Hitler you need worry about.’
Danny looked affronted. ‘What kind of man do you take me for? She’s only a child. I saw the picture of them.’
‘That was taken four years ago,’ said Arthur grimly.
‘Oh,’ said Danny. ‘That would make her?’
‘Sixteen. I’ll be standing guard outside the room, sonny boy.’
‘Leave it out, Arthur. I’ll climb in through the window,’ laughed Danny. He received a clip for his trouble, which only made him laugh more.
A few minutes later, Greening came back to Danny and Arthur. This was a surprise as both thought he had finished with them.
‘Parry, Shaw,’ said Greening, ‘I was wondering if you would like to come with me for a few minutes. Where is Lawrence?’ Danny called over to Phil Lawrence who was chatting to Jim Donnelly. Lawrence jogged over and the three men followed Greening.
As they walked Greening talked about commonplace things. This was a surprise as Danny had thought the lieutenant wanted to talk to them about Bob. It was no secret in the section that Bob was on the very edge of his emotions.
It soon became apparent they were heading towards the officers mess. Once inside, Greening led them down a long corridor towards the office of Colonel Drew. A quick knock on the door and then they entered into an outer office. Two young secretaries had desks here. One of them told Greening to go on through.
Lieutenant-Colonel Drew glanced up as the men entered. He put his pen down and rose from his seat and walked around his desk.
‘Stand at ease, men. So, you’re Stan Shaw’s boy.’
Danny nearly collapsed when he heard this.
‘Yes, sir,’ he stammered by way of reply.
‘I knew him from the last lot. Good man. I’ve heard good things about you Shaw.’ Danny said nothing but looked straight ahead. ‘Corporal Lawrence, Private Perry, thank you for joining us also. I have some news for the three of you which may come as surprise and perhaps not a happy one.’
Drew looked at Danny and the two other men for a moment and then said, ‘Well, as you’ve heard, we’re pulling out soon. The last few weeks we’ve been assessing the men.’
Here it comes thought, Danny. It is about Bob, after all. It wasn’t though.
‘War is a terrible business,’ said Drew. Danny was sure few would disagree. ‘Many of our boys will die. We’ve trained you as best we as can, but this is the reality. Our regiments in North Africa have had a bit of tough time of late. We need to supplement them with men like you. I’ve agreed to transfer you over to the 6th Royal Tank Regiment as they need more tank men. This will not affect your leave, of course.’
Danny felt himself breathe a sigh of relief but then he thought of Bob. What would his friend say? The guilt began to envelop him. He’d promised Beth he’d look after Bob. Instead, he was going to be forced to abandon him.
‘Sir, what about Private Owen?’ asked Danny. ‘We came down together from the same village.’
Did Drew’s face cloud over? It was just a moment. A look. A slight shift in the body. The colonel nodded.
‘Very well, Shaw. I shall see what I can do.’
3
London, April 1941
Danny and Arthur walked along the platform at Waterloo Station together. It was mobbed. Hundreds of soldiers had also disembarked from the train and were being met by wives, sweethearts or family. All around them, soldiers were being embraced. The noise was deafening. People were shouting, women crying, men laughing, dogs barking. Danny swivelled around as he walked, unable to believe what he was hearing and seeing.
‘Come along country-boy, my Edith will be here somewhere,’ said Arthur. Then he spotted his wife and pointed. ‘There she is.’
Edith Perry was a woman in her mid-thirties. She seemed older than Arthur. When she saw Arthur, she ran towards him and they embraced. Danny stood beside the couple awkwardly. Further up were two young girls that Danny guessed were Arthur’s daughters. The eldest was unquestionably the one Arthur had mentioned. She and her sister, who was a year younger, seemed faintly embarrassed by the open affection displayed by their parents.
Finally, and a little reluctantly, they joined their parents and embraced. Then Arthur stood back and introduced Danny.
‘Girls, this is my chum Danny. Danny, this is my missus, Edith, but you can call her, Mrs Perry.’
Edith punched Arthur gently on the arm and said, ‘Don’t you listen to him, Danny, come here.’
Moments later Danny was taken in a bear hug by Edith and she was just as strong as she looked.
‘This beautiful young woman,’ said Arthur proudly, ‘is Vera.’
Danny shook hands awkwardly with Vera. Arthur’s daughter was the image of him but with her mother’s height and robust build. She smiled at Danny, clearly pleased by what she saw. Danny caught a warning glance from Arthur, but it was done with a smile. Edith, however, had decided on first meeting that Danny was ideal son-in-law material.
Arthur’s other daughter was Sally. She seemed to have more of her mother in her. Dark eyes and mousy hair. She was skinny and looked younger than her fifteen years. Danny grinned at both girls. He kept his compliments on the
safe side of flattery but was more effusive in Edith’s direction which had Arthur rolling his eyes and his wife already planning the wedding.
‘You can stay with us as long as you like, young man.’
‘It’ll just be the night, Mrs Perry.’
‘You can cut out the Mrs for a start, don’t you listen to Arthur. Call me Edith.’
‘Thanks Edith, just one night. I have to go back home and see my family,’ replied Danny.
‘So you should. I’m glad to hear that family is important to you,’ said Edith and looked at Arthur meaningfully. Arthur was, of course, unaware of the significance of the comments. His face fell into that state of confusion most chaps feel when they realise their better half has communicated something of great importance and they are, as ever, on a completely different wavelength.
They walked along the concourse of the platform, dodging soldiers, family and porters. Outside the station, banked against the entrance was the familiar sight of sandbags. The grey-iron sky was blotted by barrage balloons of a city at war. Overhead they heard the sound of planes. There was no siren, however. One of ours, thought Danny.
The bus ride to Lewisham took twenty minutes. It was mid-morning when Danny stepped into the Perry household. The house was a redbrick Victorian terrace house on a street with a few hundred others that looked identical.
‘You’ll have to kip on the settee,’ said Arthur as they walked through the front gate.
‘It’ll be more comfortable than what I’m used to,’ pointed out Danny.
‘Ain’t that the truth.’
Inside, the house was small but spotlessly clean and Danny was made to feel like one of the family. However, he also realised he was not one of the family and having deposited his belongings, withdrew to go sightseeing in London. The two girls seemed disappointed by this news as did Edith. Danny was amused by the smile of satisfaction on Arthur’s face, though. He promised to be back in time for tea.
In truth, Danny was delighted to be free. He had not had a moment to himself in over four months. As badly as he wanted to see his family again, he had been looking forward to this afternoon for a long time.
He took a bus to Trafalgar Square. He’d seen photographs of the square, dominated by Nelson’s column and the Landseer lions. His first sight of the square made his heart swell. He walked through past the column, scattering pigeons hither and thither. Service personnel, men and women were all around him. He took a seat and happily watched the world pass around him.
It was early afternoon and he began to feel peckish. He’d hardly spent any money in his time at the various camps so, on a whim, he decided to treat himself. He walked past Charing Cross along the Strand in search of Simpson’s. As he dodged his way along the crowded street, he was surprised to find that lots of people doffed their hats to him. Children came over and saluted him. He saluted back with a broad grin. After a five minute walk, he finally found himself outside the restaurant.
Simpson’s-in-the Strand had been visited by his father over twenty years before. It felt like a thing for him to do. He knew it was one of the oldest restaurants in London. He suspected it might also be one of the more expensive. He didn’t care. Life was for living and the time left for him to do so had a huge question mark hanging over it.
The Strand was busy with cars, office workers and servicemen. Danny strolled along wide-eyed, past the Savoy and finally came across Simpson’s. The archway with the chess mosaic was impressive. He’d been to restaurants in Lincoln, but nothing like this. If this was what it looked like outside, it made him nervous to think about the interior, the people, the serving staff even. He took a deep breath and entered. All at once he saw people look at him.
They nodded to him. And smiled.
The interior more than matched the entrance. The walls were wood-panelled; rather like those at Cavendish Hall. Descending gracefully from the ceiling were several chandeliers. All around the room, were well-dressed people and officers from the different services. At first glance, there were few men from the ranks.
Not surprisingly the price of the food matched the décor. Danny gulped as he saw an attractive waitress come over, beating another waitress, he noted happily, in a race to his table. The young woman was about Danny’s age, perhaps a little older. She wore her dark hair tied back in a bun, the black dress fit snugly over her slender frame. Accompanying the more than satisfactory appearance was a warm smile.
‘Hello,’ said the waitress, ‘have you had a chance to choose something?’
Danny smiled up and said, ‘Perhaps just a tea and a sandwich.’
He pointed to what he wanted. The waitress smiled knowingly and took the order. He felt his cheeks turn red as he thought about how cheap he must seem to her. Still, she hadn’t appeared that snooty. Rather than worry about how he appeared, he decided to relax and enjoy his moment dining with his betters.
Around ten minutes later the waitress returned with a plate laden with sandwiches. Danny looked from the plate to the young woman in shock.
‘Did I order all that?’
The waitress smiled and said, ‘No, but you looked hungry.’
‘Thank you,’ Danny pausing at the end.
The waitress smiled and said, ‘Abigail. My friends call me Abby.’
‘Thanks, Abby.’
‘Are you around for long?’ asked Abby.
‘No, I’m heading home tomorrow for a few days, then back here next week. I’m on embarkation leave.’
Abby looked disappointed. So many men leaving to fight. It broke her heart to see them. All were so young: some her age, many younger. Something in her face must have registered her sadness.
‘Bloody war,’ said Danny.
‘I know. Good luck.’
‘Thanks, I’ll be back next week. Wednesday. Will you be working?’
‘Yes, maybe I’ll see you?’ said Abby before adding, ‘I like dancing.’
Danny laughed, ‘I need a good teacher.’
4
Little Gloston, April 1941
Danny had written every week since leaving for army training. However, the rapidity of the news on embarkation had meant he’d not been able to write and tell his parents he was returning home. Telegrams were forbidden.
Mid-afternoon the next day, Danny found himself disembarking from the bus and walking towards the family cottage. Ahead he could see the orange glow of the forge. He could make out his father and Kate Shaw. It wasn’t until he was a dozen yards from the front gate that his father registered his imminent arrival. His father stopped and stared at him. Danny stopped too. Then he broke into a grin. He could see his father struggling with his emotions. Stoicism won, just. He dropped the hammer he was holding onto the dusty floorboards and walked out of the forge.
‘Kate, we have a visitor.’
‘Who?’ shouted a voice from inside the cottage.
‘Come out and see for yourself, you lazy bint,’ shouted Danny, standing against the garden gate.
A scream came from the kitchen and moments later Kate Shaw was running along the garden path, tears in her eyes. She nearly knocked Danny over in her eagerness to embrace him. Stan Shaw ambled over to them and put his arms around his wife and son. His stoicism finally crumbled when he saw the stripe. He looked his son in the eye then the tears fell freely. White lines streaked his soot-soaked cheeks.
‘Good to have you back son,’ said Stan, finally.
-
Danny cleared the plate and looked expectantly at his mother.
‘Don’t they feed you down there?’ said his mother, laughing as she rose to replenish his plate.
‘Army food?’ said Danny querulously.
‘Don’t remind me,’ said Stan. Danny eyed him for a moment hoping that his father would talk more about that time. Nothing was added, however. A refilled plate was put in front of Danny and he polished it off eagerly.
‘When did Tom leave?’
‘Two weeks ago, but we still don’t know where.’
‘Surely we’ve already beaten the Italians,’ said Kate.
Danny and Stan exchanged a look and then Stan said, ‘The Germans arrived; it changed things. It won’t be over for a while.’ There was no disguising the catch in his voice as he said this.
None of this helped Kate Shaw’s mood. Danny sensed this and said, ‘Don’t worry, mum. I’ll be protected by an inch or two of armour.’
This seemed to make her happier, but Danny didn’t need to look at his father to know this was hardly going to be enough against some of the big anti-tank guns they would face.
After dinner, Danny and his father went for a walk. They walked past the village shop and St Bartholomew’s church towards the wood. At the edge of the wood they found a tree stump, and both sat down. Stan lit his pipe and smoked it in silence.
‘When do you leave?’ asked Stan after a while.
‘Late next week or early week after when everyone is back.’
Stan nodded. He looked at his son for a few moments. Then, embarrassed he looked away.
‘How do you find it? In the tank?’
‘I don’t mind it. We don’t spend long, mind you. And we’re not facing real fire. I suppose it’ll feel different then.’
‘It will, son, trust me.’
Danny had never heard his father speak this way. For the first time Stan spoke of the War. He spoke for an hour, interrupted only by his sobbing. He spoke of the fear he had felt as he drove towards the killing fire. He spoke of the men he had killed, their terrified screams. He spoke of the men he had fought with who died in pain, crying for their mothers, their wives, for God’s loving mercy.
Danny put his arm around the former soldier when the recollection became too raw. The pain of remembrance had never left; it never would. A part of Stan did not want the scar to heal. How else would he keep alive the memory of his friends, his brother and those he had killed? Their sacrifice and his actions would have been in vain otherwise.