by Allan Jones
Paul nodded his agreement. Sims went on. “Well, it came to it, we was all in, ammo was low. Morale was low since we was losing blokes; some of the lads were gettin’ scared, I could see it in their eyes, I could. I told’im the situation, told ’im we ’ad to go, it was over. Told’im we was no use no more an’ we ’ad to get back; there was others behind us better equipped to take over. Reminded ’im of wot the captain used to say, that it was our duty to kill the enemy, not get killed by them. We should go now and fight ’em another day, not waste our lives uselessly in a ’opeless situation… Well,’e went mad, didn’t ’e?’E shoved me to the ground and screamed at me, called me a bloody coward an’ ’ow ’e was goin’ to ’ave me charged for cowardice in the face of the enemy an’ all. ’E was shakin’ an’ foamin’ at the mouth an’ yellin’, an’ in front of the men! It weren’t fair; I wasn’t a coward, I fought as well as any of ’em, better! ‘An ’e ’adno right to yell at me in front of the men! It weren’t proper, not for an officer! Mind you, the men were lovin’ it. None of ’em liked me; it was cos I was ’ard on ’em, see? I was’ard, but I was fair; treated ’em all the same, no favourites. I’ad to be ’ard, see, it was my job: keep ’em in line, best way to keep ’em goin’, keep ’em fighting, keep ’em alive. That bastard Clarke was the worst of ’em:’ated me,’e did,cos’e was a corporal once, wasn’t ’e, up for ’is sergeant’s stripes along o’ me; but I caught ’im drunk on duty, didn’t I? I ’ad to report ’im, it was me duty. So I did, ‘an ’e got fifteen days in the glasshouse and busted back to private.’Ated me ever since! An’ that mucker of ’is, Carter, ’e was the same: another bastard, always makin’ remarks, always takin’ the piss. I tried once more to reason with Johnson. I pleaded for ’im to see sense, but ’e drew ’is revolver. I doubt ’e was goin’ to shoot me, ’e ’adn’t the guts, but I wasn’t goin’ to argue no more. ’E said I was under arrest an’ ordered the lads that if I made to leave they all ’ad permission to shoot me! I couldn’t believe it! Me, the best soljer in the platoon! An’ those bastards! None of ’em would baulk at puttin’ a bullet in me at the first chance they got, an’’im allowin’ it! I was a dead man! I knowed I ’adto watch my step from then, watch ’em like a ’awk or I’d be a gonner in no time. Stupid bastards! They couldn’t see that ’e was the one as was goin’ to get ’em all killed an’ I was the one trying to save their stupid asses… they couldn’t see it!
“Well then we was right in it, up to our ears. The Germans came on and we gave ’em ’ell, gave ’em everything we’ad. We fought ’em off once, but they came back again and then, as I said, we run out of ammo: all we ’ad left was bayonets. It went quiet, an’ they was waiting; sooner or later they would realise we ’ad no ammo. I turned to Johnson:’e was white with fear, shakin’. The lads was all lookin’ at’im for orders, but’e couldn’t speak ’e was so terrified. I asked ’im what was ’is orders. ’E didn’t speak. So I took it on meself. I did the only thing to do: I got me ’anky and waved it over me ’ed and yelled the German for surrender over an’ over for all I was worth. There was nuffin’ else for it, see. I ’ad to try to save em, didn’t I? It was all I could do! Well, then they came an’ ’ad us outa there, took our useless weapons an’ started to march us off to ’their rear. They was all right at first, no ’eavy stuff, but then we stopped an’ their signaller reported a message to their commander. After that, they went mad! Punching an’ kickin’, ’itting us with their rifles. The officer kep’ shoutin’‘Where is Dietrich? Where is Dietrich? What have you done?’ We ’adn’t a clue what ’e was on about, but ’e kep’ saying it while ’is men kep’ ’itting us.”
Paul interrupted. “They thought you’d killed their beloved commander, Josef ‘Sepp’ Dietrich? He went missing for a while in the battle; rumours spread that the British had executed him, and it provided the excuse for reprisals. The SS executed many prisoners out of hand. Dietrich turned up a couple of days later: he’d got cut off and had been forced to hide in a ditch.”
“I didn’t know that; explains a lot,” Sims said, wonderingly.
Paul prompted him to continue.
“Well, as I said, they went bananas; then that stupid bastard Taffy Williams only spat in the officer’s face, didn’t ’e. That really did it! The officer had ’im on ’is knees in no time an’ blew ’is brains out there an’ then an’ then they was lining us up to shoot us all! And, well, that’s when you come along, in’t it, sir? Shot ’em all and saved us, didn’t you, right in the nick of time. And, well…. I never’ ad the chance to thank you for that, sir, not till now; so now I’m offering my honest thanks to you, sir, for saving me, and all the lads. Thank you, sir, from the bottom of me ’eart.” Sims looked entreatingly at Paul, awaiting his response.
Paul simply nodded his head. Inwardly, he asked Johnson’s forgiveness before saying, “Now that I’ve heard your side, it explains a lot. You’re right about Johnson. I reached that conclusion myself: he was no leader of men, he left that to me. I think he was pleased to be relieved of the burden. And I noticed the way he let the men treat you; that was unprofessional, to say the least. I was astonished at the time, but now you’ve given me the background, I understand what was going on. It was none of my business at the time, so I left it. So you were the fall guy then; you were the one to be blamed to cover his failings.”
“That’s right!” Sims said angrily. “’E was goin’ to point the finger at me when we got back to Blighty; blame mean’ ’ave me court martialled and probably shot. So I ’ad to run, didn’t I? No-one was goin’ to believe me,’ specially since those bastards’ ld back ’im up.”
Paul reached for and uncorked the brandy flask, taking a slug, whilst keeping his eyes on Sims. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, sergeant. Here, would you like a drink? Make up for the schnapps you missed out on in the last barn we were in.” He offered the flask.
“Yes, I remembers,” Sims said ruefully, reaching forward to take the flask. He took a long pull.
“Now, start from when we were in the ditch,” prompted Paul. “The Germans were coming on, I was about to open fire; what happened there? Clarke told me you were aiming your gun at me.”Paul’s tone had grown grim.
“It’s a bloody lie!” Sims shouted, splattering brandy from his mouth indignantly. “I was ready to fight ’em, same as everyone. I was aiming at them, waiting your order. I knowed this was our chance. Our lads was coming behind’ em; all we ’ad to do was kill ’em and we’d be ’ome and dry! I was waitin’, and then that bastard Clarke twatted mean’ I was out cold.”
“Go on,” Paul said, encouragement in his voice.
“Well, I came to.it was quiet, but there was gunfire in the distance behind me, and for a while I didn’t know where the ’ell I was. My jaw ’urt like ’ell! I was dizzy; then I remembered and went for me gun. It was gone. Dislocated me jaw,’ e did; never ’ealed proper since. Look!”
Sims held his crooked chin as proof: his lower jaw was off to one side, giving him a lop-sided look. “I ’eard voices and peeped out of the ditch and you an’ Johnson was some ways off talkin’; the lads was riflin’ the corpses, nicking watches an’ the like. I ’ad to ’ave a think. It was now or never. If I came back with you I was done for; as soon as I was back in England I’d be for the’igh jump. If I made it back! Those bastards’ ld try to see I didn’t: they still ’ad licence to shoot me on any excuse, so I thought, ‘Ernie, me boy, now’s yer chance’, an’ I crawled off a ways, then I ran soon as I were in the clear. But I wasn’t desertin’, see; I ’ad no choice. I thought if I can get back on me own I’d ’ave a chance to tell my side of the story first, give meself up an’ tell all like it was; then I’d’ ave a chance, wouldn’t I, before Johnson an’ them could tell their lies. They’d know the truth. I wasn’t desertin’, I wasn’t.”
“What happened then?” Paul asked. He’d relaxed the grip on the gun now, resting it on his knee.
“I tried goin’ west,’eading for the coast, but the place was crawli
n’ with Germans, so I had a fink; too dangerous to keep goin’ west, no use north, east definitely not, so I turned south. I ’id up in the day an’ moved at night. I ’ad no grub an’ I ’ad to drink from streams an’ the like; it were rough, but I kep’ goin’. I managed four nights like that, but by the end of it I was all-in, couldn’t go no further. I ’ad to chance it, so I knocked on the door of this ’ouse on its own in the middle of nowhere. The ol’ feller as answered the door got a fright when ’e saw me. I was filthy, dried blood on me face, me jaw all swollen up an’ all.’E pulled me in the door an’ I collapsed on the floor; nearly passed out there an’ then. ’Im an’ ’is wife got me up into a chair an’ gave me water an’ some bread. I was so’ ungry I walloped it down; forgot me manners for a bit.
“They didn’t ’ave much English an’ me only a few words of French, but it was obvious I was a British soljer on the run. They ’ad me get out of me uniform an’ they got rid of it an’ the woman washed me wiv a cloth; did ’er best, fussin’ an cluckin’ all over me she was. Then I was fallin’ asleep all the time, so they put me in a bed an’ I was out like a light; slep’ for a day an’ a night, I found out later. Then I woke up an’ they was there, watchin’ me, an’ they gave me some clothes, civvy clothes, an’ I got up an’ they fed me again an’ I ’ad a bath in front of the fire. By the time I was finished an’ dressed, I felt like meself again.
“It was ’ard tryin’ to make meself understood. I kep’ thanking them an’ all, an’ they was trying to make me understand what they were sayin’: then I cottoned on. The ol’ man ’ad a picture of a fella about my age an’’e kep’ pointin’ to it an. sayin’ ‘Claude’, an’ ‘morte’, an’ I understood that the feller in the picture was ’is son an’ ’e was dead. Then ’e kep’ pointin’ to the feller’s mouth, ’is mouth an’ my mouth, shakin’ ’is ’ed an’ sayin’ ‘Non’! It took a while, then I understood: ’e was sayin’ not to speak,see, to act dumb. Well, that was easy for me, see, cos when I was a kid I ’ad this mate who really couldn’t speak!
“See, when I was a kid I was brought up in a ’ome. Me real mum was under-age, only fourteen when she ’ad me, so she couldn’t keep me: ’ad to give me to the orphanage. No-one wanted to adopt me − guess I was too ugly − so I grew up there, and then they moved me to another place when I was old enough. It was a bastard of a place, it was. The older kids was bullies and the masters were worse: they’d beat the livin’ daylights out of yer at the slightest thing, the food was ’orrible and never enough, the older kids ’ld pinch us young ’uns’ share an’ all; you was always ’ungry. You ’ad to watch out for yerself all the time.
“Later on, you ’ad to keep out of the way of the masters after yer arse; there was quite a few of them, I can tell yer. There was this other kid, Billy Miles ’is name was, an’ ’e were really dumb, could only manage a few grunts an’ that, an’ ’e was crazy; but ’e wasn’t really, see, ’e only acted nuts so’s ’e would be left be. They took the piss out o’ ’im right enough, but that was all; mostly they lef’’im alone. Well, me an’ Billy became mates; ’e weren’t daft that Billy, ’e was as sharp as could be really, so I pretended to go doolally as well over time an’ it worked: I got lef’ alone too. Anyway, as soon as I was old enough, I joined the Army as a boy soljer. I was glad to get away from there, I can tell yer. I did all right too. I loved it; being in the Army was all I knew − never ’ad a proper family, see.
“So it was easy for me. I jus’ did what Billy ’ad done: kep’ schtum, acted simple outside of the old ’uns’ ’ouse, an’ when we was on our own I learned more French from ’em. We used picture books, drawin’s, sign language an’ the like, an’ pretty soon I could get by.
“We ’ad to go to the local town ’all once, all of us, to get our papers from the Germans, an’ the ol’ couple tol’’em I was Claude, an’ I got papers too. Fooled ’em right proper, we did. So now I was their son Claude an’ I thought that’s what I’d do, stay with them, keep me ’ed down, an’ when our lot came back I could tell ’em I been’ iding all this time and get back in the Army again. All I’ ad to do was keep up the act, an’ it wasn’t ’ard, really.
“Them was the good days, they was; I was ’appy. The ol’ couple really treated me like I was their real son ,an’ I got very fond of ’em; it was like I ’ad a real ’ome an’ real parents. Day by day I got better at me French an’ all, an’ I ’elped with the work, the gardenin’ an that, lookin’ after the chickens an’ fetchin’ wood for the fire. I felt really at ’ome there; for the first time in my life I ’ad a real’ome.It was ’eaven, it really was.”
Sims went quiet for a while and his face darkened, before he continued. “Then the Germans came, didn’t they? I was off aways fetchin’ wood when this lorry load of Germans came. I got down an’ stayed put. I watched as they dragged ’em out by their ’air. They shot ’em! Then an’ there, just shot ’em an’ lef’ ’em in the dirt. Then they went in the ’ouse and ransacked it; then they set it on fire! I couldn’t move! I was shocked, I couldn’t take it in: why was they doin’ it? There was no need for it; the old ’uns ’adn’t done nuffin’ – well, except shelter me; but no-one knew, did they? There was no need for it.
“Then they lef’ an’ I waited awhile, afraid to move. Then I got meself together an’ went over. I tell yer, I ’adn’t cried since I was a kid, but I blubbed me ’eart out that day! I was beside meself, couldn’t stop crying an’ ’olding ’em in me arms and rockin’. I sat wiv ’em for ’ours, till I pulled meself together. Then I did the best I could. I dug’ em a grave between them − figured they’d want to be together – an’ I made a cross for ’em, carved their names and the date an’ all. Then I said a few words for ’em an’ the Lord’s Prayer an’ I sat there by the grave all night wiv’ em, talkin’ to ’em. Daft really; they couldn’t ’ear me, but it ’elped, it really did.
“Mornin’ came an’ I’d been doin’ some finkin’. I couldn’t get it out of me mind that maybe it was because of me, maybe someone ’ad snitched an’ maybe the Germans was lookin’ for me; but they ’adn’t looked at the time, ’ad they? I found out later that it weren’t me. They was just shot in revenge for someone else who’d ambushed the Germans an’ killed a few of ’em. They shot quite a few round-abouts, picked at random; just bad luck, wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all it were, just bad luck!
“So I scavenged what I could from the ruins, found an ol’ coat in the shed an’ I left. I drew a picture showin’ what had happened. Stick figures, Germans pointin’ guns, figures fallin’; I ’ad arrows pointin’ and writ Mama and Papa, showin’ who they was an’ the ’ouse on fire. I’d made up me mind to keep bein’ Claude. Keep on me own so’s I never put anyone else in danger. Reckoned I’d show the picture an’ act daft an’ maybe people would feel sorry for me an’ ’elp me on me way; an’, for all they knew, they was innocent of ’elping the enemy. Better that way! I figured I’d make me way to Spain, then mebbe Portugal, then mebbe I could get ’ome. So I drifted down ’ere, stayin’’ere an’ there, wherever anyone let me. I was stopped a couple o’ times by Germans, but I did me act, showed me papers which I still ’ad, an’ I acted the fool an’ made ’em laugh an’ they let me be.”
“So how did you come to be here?” Paul asked.
“I decided to stay round ’ere for a while. I was gettin’ weaker, needed to build meself up a bit, and folks is kinder than most round ’ere, so I sorta set up a ‘round’, movin’ from place to place, doin’ a bit ’ere, a bit there. Got meself known round ’ere: the Germans all know me an’ leave me be; even if I’s out after the curfew they leaves me be. They might take the piss a bit, but that’s all. So I stayed; thought I’d go when it warmed up a bit an’ I got stronger, then I got found out, didn’t I?”
Paul leaned forward, his curiosity piqued, and gestured for the brandy to be given him.“ Someone else knows? Who?”
Sims gave a rueful smile. “It was me own fault. I was choppin’ wood at a place nearer th
e town when a log flew up and ’it me ’ed. I swore, in English an’ all! I was caught out: fella I was workin’ for ’eard me. ’Im an’ ’is mate dragged me into the’ouse and pointed a shotgun at me. They knew English an’ all, so I told ’em ’oo I was really, same as I’m tellin’ you, an’ they believed me. I convinced them I was no ’arm an’ they put the gun down. It was a bit of a relief to be able to drop the act: felt funny to be ’earing me own voice. I asked ’em to keep it to theirselves; I didn’t want anyone else knowin’.Said I’d be goin’ an’ ’ow I didn’t want to put anyone else in danger.
“They wouldn’t ’ave it! They promised as they wouldn’t tell, but they wanted me to stay. So I did! Kept mum out o’ doors the same, an’ they let me stay indoors with them at nights, talkin’ an’ that. Then this mate of theirs came, wanted to see me. ’E were in the resistance, they all were, though till then I ’adn’t twigged. ’E said as I could be useful to them, seein’ as ’ow I could move about more easier than most, an’ after curfew an’ all. Said I could carry on doin’ me ‘round’ an’ all, but now I could take messages, packages an’ the like, occasionally be a guide to someone, do me bit for winnin’ the war. Well, I jumped at the chance, didn’t I? I could ’elp an’ when our lot came back I could tell ’em what I been doin’ and these lads would vouch for me, an’ I’d be an ’ero, an’ they’d take me back, mebbe give me a medal and me stripes back. Everything would work out, wouldn’t it?”
“So you know some of the resistance people round here? ”Paul asked.
“Not so many as you’d think: just a few. We ’as cutouts an’ that, so you don’t know too much, so’s yer can’t tell if you’s caught. You ’as to play it a bit clever like, but yeah, I knows a few.”
Paul drew a deep breath and asked the vital question. “So how did you come here, to this place? Why here?”
“No reason; it’s on me rounds, that’s all. But we got the word a while ago that we was to stop all we was doin’, an’ go to ground an’ scatter. Seems they might be onto us, so we was ordered to lie low for a while. I was tol’ to carry on me ‘round’ an’ keep me ’ed down, an’ I’d be contacted when it blows over an’ we’d start all over. So that’s what I done, followed me orders, an’ that’s ’ow I’m ’ere. I ain’t no ’arm to you, sir, I never was. Truth is, I can be of ’elp to you if you wants? I could, you know.”