Dieppe

by Hosker, Griff

  "Yes sir."

  I went to Crowe who had his eyes open. He looked up at me, "Sorry about this, sir."

  "You can't help getting wounded."

  "How is Peter?"

  I shook my head. He didn't make it."

  "He always said he didn't have much luck."

  Sergeant Poulson brought me my stew as Hewitt brought Crowe's. "He was right there, sir. He was a brave lad but he made a mistake." I started to eat and waved my spoon so that he would go on with the story. "After we lost you we pushed on as ordered. It was all going well and then the fighters arrived." He shook his head, "I don't know what he was thinking. We were waving at the fighter pretending we were Jerry and suddenly he opened fire with the machine gun. The fighter fired instantly and that was when he bought it. The bullets shredded the tyres and it flipped over. We stopped to see to Harry and George. The 109 dived again and I thought we had had it but they had sent for help. Hewitt and I were helping Harry and George when the Germans arrived. Young Alan here opened fire with his gun and he was shot. He fell awkwardly and bashed his head against a rock. The rest, you know, sir."

  "It was just bad luck, Sergeant."

  "No, I should have secured the perimeter first. Harry and George weren't badly injured."

  "But you didn't know that, did you?"

  "No sir."

  "And I would have done the same. It is not a disaster. We are here and now we have three hours to wait for the Sunderland."

  Just then I saw a flash on the hillside above us and there was an explosion. The Germans had triggered our booby traps.

  "That's torn it sir. They will be down here before the Sunderland arrives. It took us about two hours to get down."

  "I know." We had used all of our explosives up and there would be no more booby traps. We had plenty of ammunition but, even if we held them off there was no way we could safely escape in rubber dinghies. We would just get the air crew killed and the four Tunisians. That triggered a thought.

  I pointed up the hill, "Mustapha, they are Germans and they will be here soon. If they find us they will shoot. You and your sons might be injured."

  "If it is God's will...."

  "However if we left the beach on your fishing boats then they wouldn't find us would they? You could say that we stole them."

  "We could not do that, effendi. They are our livelihood and besides we have given you hospitality. Custom dictates that we defend you from enemies."

  They were old fashioned and well meaning values in a world which no longer cared about such things. "I have a compromise."

  "Yes?"

  I took out the coins I had been given, "We would like to hire you to take us out to sea."

  "Back to England?"

  "No Mustapha, just a mile or so out to sea. Where we will not be seen by the Germans. We have an aeroplane coming to take us off." I saw him debating. "You could carry on to Bizerte and be there when the market opens to sell your fine catch."

  That decided him, "We will do it. You need to spread your men out in the four boats. The stretcher will be too big to take."

  Crowe said, "Don't worry sir. I can walk. I have been enough trouble."

  "Then you have a deal." I handed him the coins which would have been the equivalent of a month's wages for all four of them. "Get to the beach lads, we are going fishing!"

  Mustapha shouted to his sons.

  "Hewitt you and Sergeant Poulson go with Crowe. The rest of you choose your own boat. Scouse, you are with me. You have the signal to make."

  It took longer to load the boats and to launch them than I had expected. It was eleven thirty by the time we managed it. They hoisted their sails and we laboured our way out into the inky blackness of the small bay. Scouse and I were with Mustapha. The others were following. When the fire became a distant glow I said, "Here is far enough."

  He lowered the sail and threw a rock attached to a rope over the side. It was a crude but effective anchor. We still drifted but much more slowly. We would not move far.

  "Effendi, how will the aeroplane pick you up?"

  "It is a seaplane. It can land on water."

  "Ah." We bobbed on the water in silence until he said. "We do not like these Germans. They are cruel and have no sense of humour. We want the French and the English to come back."

  I nodded, "Your English is very good. Where did you learn it?"

  "I worked on ships before the war. They carried passengers from Gibraltar to Malta. They were rich English people. They were kind and they tipped well. I liked them. Even then the German passengers were, how you say, unpleasant. I like Americans too. There were never many of them. They gave even better tips." He patted the boat. "When the war in Spain stopped the ships I used my tips and bought two boats. We now have three."

  "Do the Germans bother you?"

  "Not here. They never come to this bay but when we are in Bizerte they watch us and they have rules for everything. Soon you will drive them out eh, effendi?"

  "One day, Mustapha, one day."

  Just then a searchlight played out across the bay. Its beam did not reach us but it told us the Germans were there. We stopped talking and watched as the light played across the black water.

  I looked at my watch. It was twelve forty five. The Germans had settled down for the night. They were waiting, no doubt, for us to return. They knew we had come down the hill and could not see us. I saw torches flashing on the hill side as they searched for us. Soon they would know where we were. I looked at my watch again and Ken, in the next boat along, said, "I heard engines, sir. It sounds like the Sunderland."

  "Start sending the call sign, Scouser. We don't want him landing on top of us." Scouser kept his back to the shore to hide the flash of his light and he aimed it east. That was where the sound of the engine was coming from. The noise grew but there was no response as yet. Perhaps it was not the Sunderland. Had the Germans called in one of their Focke-Wolf Kondors? Then there was a flash in the night. I heard the relief in Scouse's voice as he acknowledged. "It's them sir. They are going to land west to east."

  I guessed that would be to aid their take off. Suddenly the huge Sunderland appeared almost above us. I saw Mustapha's sons cowering in the well of their boats. He snorted, "They get that from their mother! She was afraid of her own shadow too!"

  There was a burst of hopeful firing from the beach. They had no chance of hitting at that range. The Sunderland turned and I saw it heading almost directly for us. I hoped the lieutenant knew what he was doing. He did. The Sunderland stopped less than twenty feet from us. The swell from its floats made us bob up and down alarmingly but we were not swamped. The flying boat edged its way to us. The hatch was open. The Flight Sergeant said, "Best get a move on gents. I think we will have company soon."

  "Bye Mustapha. Thank you again."

  "Don't forget effendi, come back and drive these Germans from my land."

  "We will."

  I scrambled aboard, followed by Scouse. "Right sir."

  We moved forward and picked up the others boat by boat. As soon as Sergeant Poulson was on board the Flight Sergeant said, "That is it sir! We can take off." The motors began to roar as the pilot opened the throttles. "I reckon the Germans know we are here. They will send night fighters up. I am off to the nose." He pointed to the hatch. "If things get dicey you can open this and have a pop yourselves."

  "Right."

  "Hewitt, get Crowe stowed safely. The rest of you get your Tommy guns. If we are attacked then we will open the upper half of the hatch and make ourselves useful."

  We began to climb and bank as the pilot resumed his flight west. I had no doubt that the Flight Sergeant was correct. The Germans on the beach had to have a radio and a Sunderland was a tempting target. The Germans called them a Flying Porcupine but at night the Germans would have the advantage. We were thirty minutes from the pickup point when we heard a shout from the gunners above. "You lads watch out. There are two 110 night fighters coming in. They will try to get bel
ow us."

  "Get the hatch open. Poulson and Lowe, come with me. The rest be ready to change positions when we empty our guns."

  The air was rushing in at us and I was glad I still had my sand goggles. I put them over my eyes and it became much easier. I saw nothing and then I saw the tracer as it came from the four nose machine guns of the German night fighter. It was below us. "Fire! Give him the lot." I ignored my own rule and emptied the magazine. I made a space and went to reload. Ken took my place. By the time he had emptied his the 110 had soared over us.

  The gunner above us shouted, "Well done Army! That gave the bugger a shock." They tried two more attacks but none were on our side and they eventually gave up.

  The Flight Sergeant returned with a big grin on his face. "Well this is a novelty, sir. Passengers who actually do something useful. You didn't hit him but you put him off enough so that he just gave us a couple of bullet holes in the wings. I think this calls for some cocoa!"

  Hewitt had used the medical kit in the galley and made a better job of patching up Crowe. He would still need to be seen in Gibraltar by a doctor but my medic's professional pride was intact.

  After the cocoa I fell asleep and had to be woken as we taxied to a buoy at the flying boat dock. The pilot shook my hand. "Well done Lieutenant. We heard in Malta that you had pulled it off. They sent a Spit over to take photographs. You did a damned fine job of demolition."

  I nodded, "We lost a man."

  "Small price to pay but I understand what you are saying." We walked along the wooden jetty to the small barracks we would be using. The flying boat needed repairs and refuelling. There was no rush to get back. "And now what? Will you get some leave?"

  "I hope so but you know what it is like."

  He shook his head, "Aye, mate. I certainly do."

  Part 3

  English interlude

  Chapter 12

  I borrowed notepaper from the flight office in Gibraltar. I was tired; the four hour wait in Gibraltar had been filled with reports and debriefs from Intelligence. They were taking no chances. If the Sunderland went down on the way back to England they would have their pound of flesh. I was tired and needed a bed but I would not be able to sleep until I had written to the family of Peter Groves. I had had to write such letters before. Thankfully those occasions had been few but it was still the hardest part of my job. Technically Major Foster should have done it but he didn't know the men as I did. We had all been in harm's way together and suffered the same dangers and privations. Dad had always hated that part of the job too but he had once said to me, "We owe it not only to the families but the dead themselves. It shows that we value the sacrifice that they made and that we will remember them."

  I spent well over an hour remembering and writing. Peter had been quiet and thoughtful. When they had gone out for a beer he was always the one who helped those who could not handle their ale back to the digs. When someone had had difficulty with a new skill which Peter had he had been patient and showed them how to do it. As I was writing it John Hewitt had come by. He saw what I was doing and sat next to me. "He had met a girl you know, sir, Margaret. Her mum has a boarding house just four doors from Mrs Bailey. It was early days but he was keen."

  "I didn't know."

  "No one else did, sir. Peter didn't want the mickey taking out of him." He shook his head. "I think the lads think because I am the medic I am the priest too. They confide in me."

  "I am sorry."

  "No sir, I take it as a compliment. They know I will keep my mouth shut." He stood and yawned. "Anyway sir, I just thought you ought to know."

  I was learning more about my men all the time. Once written and sealed in the envelope I rested my head against the fuselage and fell asleep. It was not a restful sleep. Writing the letter had triggered memories of all the others I had had to write and the soldiers who had died and would never be coming back.

  The flying boat landed in the early afternoon. The radio operator had warned the camp that we were returning. There was a reception committee. A staff car was there with Major Foster and the smoky Major Fleming. Sergeant Major Dean also waited with a lorry. The tender was large enough to take us all and I was the first to step ashore. Major Fleming leapt upon me as though I was prey. "Good job Harsker! Now tell me..."

  Major Foster held his hand up, "Major Fleming, not here. Wait until we get back to camp." He shook my hand. "Damned fine job. I was happy to let you have the day to recover but our colleague here was keen to debrief you."

  "That is fine sir." I hesitated, "We lost Peter Groves."

  "Sorry about that. He was a good lad."

  I had the envelope in my hand. "I don't know his address."

  Reg Dean stepped forward, "I'll take that, sir. Leave it with me. I'll look after the lads and congratulations from me, sir. You can tell me all about it over a pint, tonight. It can wait until then." He shot a look at the Major. A recruit would have quailed before it but the Major seemed oblivious to his own insensitivity.

  I sat in the front with the driver. Sergeant Poulson had taken my Bergen and Tommy gun. We drove in silence to the camp. Clouds of smoke wafted from the back. You always knew where Major Fleming would be. As we entered the office Major Foster said to the duty sergeant, "Get some tea sent from the mess eh? You hungry, Tom?"

  "No thanks, sir. They fed us on the Sunderland."

  The major from Intelligence took out a notebook. He did not wait for the tea, "Now we just saw the photographs the Spitfire took. What was the damage, exactly?"

  I looked at Major Foster who rolled his eyes and then looked heavenward. "Sir, we did not hang around. We saw and heard the explosion. The whole building went up. Everything in it was burned."

  "Yes we saw that. I meant how did you sabotage the tank?"

  "You didn't ask that, sir." I was beginning to become irritated. Too many of these staff officers never got their hands dirty. They had no concept of what the soldiers on the ground actually did. "You need to be more precise in your questions, sir!"

  He was not in the least put out by my comments, "I thought I had. Well go on then. How did you blow it up?"

  "My men put demolition charges in the engine, the ammunition, the barrel, the low loader and we opened the petrol tank."

  He looked up, "Your men? You mean you did not supervise it yourself? It was an important job. I hope your sergeant knew what he was about."

  I smiled, "It was not my sergeant. It was my new private, Shepherd."

  "A private!"

  The tea arrived and as the cups were placed before us Major Foster said, "In the Commandos we trust our men, all of them. Tell me, Tom, have you any doubts that the tank was destroyed?"

  "I guarantee it."

  Mollified Major Fleming lit another cigarette. I sipped the hot sweet tea. "So Lieutenant Harsker how did you get out?"

  I told him how we had stolen the Kubelwagens and made our way north. He scribbled away furiously. He asked for clarification a number of times but seemed satisfied. When I had finished he looked at his notes. "Very resourceful. I can see why his lordship rates you so highly. Tell me do you think the fishermen were typical of those in the area?"

  I shrugged, "Possibly. It is hard to judge. Mustapha liked the English."

  The Major scribbled some more. Major Foster said, "One thing, Tom. You tied up a great number of Germans. That would have helped General Montgomery in the desert. Those 109s and 110s couldn't shoot down any of our aeroplanes while they were hunting you. You did more than we could possibly have hoped."

  "I suppose." At the time I had not thought of that but the Major was quite right. There had to have been more than a hundred men hunting us.

  "Hmn." Major Fleming put down his pen and smiled, "So, I bet you are keen for your next mission eh Lieutenant? I can see you are the type who likes excitement!"

  Major Foster snapped, "Lieutenant Harsker is not a glory hunter. He does every job as professionally as he can."

  Major Fleming looked nonp
lussed, "But when I read of the medals he had I thought he sought the accolades!"

  "The medals were earned. They came as a result of being put in a difficult position and the Lieutenant extracting himself and his men from that position."

  I stood, "Sir if I could go and write my report. I would quite like to get back to my digs for a bath."

  "Of course. Use the Sergeant Major's office and I will finish up here."

  I had almost finished when Sergeant Major Dean returned. I looked up, "Almost finished, Sarn't Major."

  "No rush sir. Mrs B was right upset about poor Peter Groves. She thinks of them all as her bairns."

  "I know. We are lucky we haven't lost more."

  He went to his desk and took out a sheaf of papers. "The Major has given you all a week's leave. I have your travel warrants."

  "Thanks, Sarn't Major."

  "We have a new draft of Commandos in next week. They are the replacements for those killed and lost at Dieppe. The Brigade is coming back here for a while. The Major said it was something to do with lessons learned at Dieppe."

  I signed the report and sat back, "The trouble with lessons in this school is that they come at the cost of someone dying and not just a caning."

  Sergeant Major Dean nodded and lit a cigarette, "Major Foster said that Lieutenant Colonel Merritt has been put up for the VC for what he did at Dieppe. He did all right." He nodded to me, "You trained him and his lads well, sir. You should be proud. He is alive, although a prisoner now; him and the hundred men he had left with him, but that is down to you and your lads."

  "That's what I mean Reg. Those lads from Saskatchewan weren't ready to face the Germans. They needed more training. They were thrown in at the deep end and their loss was a waste."

  "The trouble is, sir, that the ones with experience, like you and your lads, you can't do it all on your own. You had to go through what those Canadians did. The ones who come through will be stronger."

  "But what good is that behind a POW wire?"

  He had no answer to that, "The Major's driver is outside sir. He is waiting to take you to your digs. Mrs B said she would have water ready for your bath." He handed me the travel warrants and leave chits. "You'll be more yourself after a leave, sir."