Dieppe

by Hosker, Griff

  "More myself?"

  "Yes sir, positive. You are the half full bloke. It's one of the reasons the lads will follow you anywhere. You never give up. Don't give up on yourself, sir. You lost a man. Most would have lost half of the section at least. Think about the ones you brought back."

  Perhaps Reg was right. I was tired and a tired man never thinks straight. The trouble was every time I met someone whose war was behind a desk I became irritated. They moved flags around on a board and never thought for one moment about what the flag represented. Peter Groves had hopes and ambitions. They ended on that North African road. He had made one mistake and it had cost him his life. If Major Fleming made a mistake the worst that he would suffer would be a reprimand.

  The slamming of the car door brought Mrs Bailey to her front door. I could see that her eyes were red and puffy. As I entered she said, "Poor Peter and poor Margaret Little! They were walking out you know, Lieutenant."

  "I know, Mrs Bailey." I put my hand on her shoulder to comfort her and it seemed to open the floodgates.

  She threw herself into my chest and sobbed, "I know what she will go through. She will end up like me, Lieutenant." She spoke between sobs."She'll never have bairns and she has lost the love of her life!" She was crying not only for Peter and Margaret but for herself. It was hard for her. Each death reminded her of her own lost love.

  "She is young enough. She can find another young man."

  Mrs Bailey stepped away and looked at me, "But until this war is over every young man could end up like Peter Groves couldn't he? It has to end, Lieutenant, it has to!"

  Her words were still with me as my train took me north. The newspaper I had bought spoke of the Russians being attacked at Stalingrad. The propaganda suggested that they were holding out. I did not believe such reports. The German Blitzkrieg was a frightening phenomenon. I had witnessed it firsthand. I knew that it was not going well in the desert. The new general, Montgomery, was barely holding Rommel. We had seen plenty of Germans around Tunis. They had enough men to end the war in the desert and our troops had to risk the bombers and submarines in the Mediterranean to get there. Even my optimism was failing. We needed a victory and we needed it soon.

  As usual I had not warned Mum of my impending arrival. I was always too keen to get to the station and get on a train. I always forgot to ring. Part of me also worried that the train would be delayed and she would worry. That journey was just such a one. We were held up north of London. German bombers must have missed their target or perhaps they had deliberately targeted the junction. Whatever the reason we all had to walk two miles with our cases to the next station where small local trains were used to take us on. I reached the station closest to Mum and Dad's at ten o'clock at night. Taxis in England were unheard of at that time of night and the telephone box was out of order. I shook my head. It would have to be Shank's pony. I began to walk. I wished that I had brought my Bergen. The kitbag was hard to carry!

  I stepped out quickly and noticed just how dark England was with a blackout. This, however, was easier than when we travelled at night normally. That was behind enemy lines. There we would have to keep our eyes open for the enemy. At least the worst I could encounter here would be a poacher. It was eleven forty five when I tried the door. Surprisingly it was locked. I knocked and felt foolish for doing so. I had a key somewhere. I just couldn't remember where. In peacetime we would have had an external light but there was a blackout. I heard Mum's querulous voice. "Who is there?"

  "It's me, Mum. Tom!"

  She flung the door open and threw her arms around me. "Why didn't you ring?"

  "The telephone was out of order." A white lie never hurt.

  "Come on in. I bet you haven't eaten. I am not certain I have anything in. You should have rung!"

  I put my arm around her and led her into the sitting room. There was a dying fire and the crossword puzzle next to her chair. "It's fine. I had some food on the train, " I lied. Another white lie would not keep her awake at night feeling guilty for not feeding her son. "Where is Mary?"

  "She is training to be a ferry pilot. She has her wings now. She said she didn't want to sit and do nothing while you and Dad were saving the world."

  I laughed, "What a goose! Where is Dad?"

  "London. He will be back for the weekend. How long is your leave?"

  "Just a week."

  "Well you can see him then."

  "Why the locked door, Mum? Is it because Mary isn't here?"

  She shook her head, "No. They have a prisoner of war camp twenty miles away. A couple got out last month and they were caught four miles from here. Your Dad suggested it."

  I knew they had to put prisoners somewhere but why near my Mum? "I shall root out my key then."

  "Oh we had the locks changed not long ago. I have a spare for you." She suddenly stopped. "Leave? This isn't Christmas. Why have they given you leave?" Mum was clever and she knew enough about the military to work things out for herself. "You have been in action again, haven't you? You have been over there. You were on the Dieppe raid!"

  "Yes Mum."

  "That was a while ago! You have been away again!" She shook her head. "There are other men in the army apart from you Tom!" She became tearful.

  "Mum, I am fine." I put my arm around her until she stopped crying. "Were you like this with Dad in the Great War?"

  She managed a smile, "No. But I know better now. I believed all your Dad's white lies. Then I spoke to Ted and the others. Now I know the truth. Besides I carried you for nine months. You are too precious to be thrown away."

  "And I won't be." I rubbed my hands, "Now I have had food but I could do with a nice whisky. Has Dad left any?"

  "Of course. You sit down and I will get you one." She kissed me on my cheek, "It is good to see you, son."

  I managed to cheer her up by talking of inconsequential things; the shortages, the weather, what Auntie Alice had been up to. Soon it was one o'clock and we were both ready for bed. She put her hand to her mouth, "I have not even aired your bed! What kind of mother am I?"

  I kissed her on the cheek, "The best. Listen any bed will be fine. I am not picky any more. I could sleep on a clothes line and be happy enough."

  She shook her head, "You get more like your Dad every day. I'll make you a hot water bottle, at least."

  I had the luxury of a lie in and a cooked breakfast. I have no idea where she got the bacon and the sausages from but they were delicious. The ones we had at camp were mainly gristle and watery bacon. This was home cured bacon and farm sausages. I was home and it felt like there was no war.

  "I think I'll take one of Dad's guns and see if I can pop a bunny or two."

  As I left she said, "I'll get your uniform clean for you. Goodness only knows what these stains are."

  Coniscliffe Woods a mile or two from our house, teemed with rabbits. The owners were happy for locals to keep the rabbit population down. I suspected that with most men my age away at the war there would be more rabbits than the land could support. As I left the lane and headed towards the wood I saw old Joe Carlton, "Now then Joe, what are you up to?"

  He knuckled his head, "Eeh, Lieutenant Harsker. Home on leave are you?"

  "Just a week. I am off to get a couple of rabbits. What are you up to?"

  "Well I patrol this area every day now. Home Guard you see. We had a couple of prisoners escaped not long ago; from the POW camp. The missus and the other women were a bit jumpy so we each take it in turns to patrol. It makes it seem like we are doing our bit."

  "I would have thought that any Jerry who escaped would be away on his toes."

  "You'd think so wouldn't you? They must have the dozy ones yonder. Any road I'll come with you, if you don't mind. A bit of company would be nice and I'd like to hear what you have been up to. You and your Dad are the local heroes."

  I sighed inwardly but outwardly I smiled and let him ramble on about Dad's exploits in the war and how I was his double. Joe did have one skill which was i
nvaluable. He knew exactly where we would find the bunnies. Between us we bagged six. He had a family and I just took the two; I let him have the rest. The two would be more than enough for the three of us. On the way out of the woods he spied some mushrooms. "Here you are sir, these will go nicely with the rabbit stew. That rain we had last week and the warm weather has brought them on a treat. They don't last long. By this time next week they will be past their best." We picked wild mushrooms and I carried them in my cap with my rabbits over my old hunting jacket. It was like being fifteen and out with my Dad again.

  We parted at the end of the lane. "See you again, Joe, and if you want some company next time you patrol give me a knock."

  "But you are on leave, sir!"

  "And believe me walking through an English wood will be a leave for me."

  When I entered the cottage I saw that Mum had cleaned it top to bottom. It smelled of wax polish. I had no idea why; it was just me. "I rang your father. He is coming down early. He will be on the last train tonight. Could you pick him up in the shooting brake?"

  "Of course." I held up the rabbits and the mushrooms. "I have dinner!"

  She shook her head and wagged her finger, "After you have gutted and skinned them we have dinner. And do it out the back! I have just cleaned the kitchen."

  I sighed as I went to the outhouse. What was the point of cleaning anywhere if you couldn't actually use it? Still she was right about one thing the smell of wax was nicer than the smell of gutted rabbits. Considering they only ate grass they stank when you cleaned them out. I got rid of the guts and washed the carcasses under the tap in the yard. When they had drained I held them up. "Is it safe for them to enter?"

  She laughed, "You are not so big that I can't give you a clip!"

  It was my turn to laugh, "In all the years growing up in this cottage I can never remember you giving me a clip of any description."

  She took the rabbits, "I was being metaphorical!"

  It was a dream driving the shooting brake after the Kubelwagen. The gears were smooth and the accelerator responsive. The best feature, however was the upholstered seats. My back had still not recovered from the race over the mountain!

  Dad's train, inevitably, was late. I didn't really mind as everyone came over to talk to me. Being the last train lots of people were being met. As I found when talking to Joe, everyone regarded me as somehow special because I had been decorated and they had read of the exploits of the Commandos. Harry Charlton, the stationmaster, asked, "Why don't you wear your uniform? Everyone would like to see that."

  "Mum is washing it."

  "Aye well next time you come down, wear it. The wife thinks you look really smart in that. You look like Errol Flynn!"

  "I doubt it, Harry, but it is nice of her to say so."

  Just then I spied the train heading towards the platform. As it stopped it spewed steam and smoke. The doors clattered open and the train disgorged its passengers. I stood and waited. There were other soldiers home on leave and they were being met by families. Dad and I could wait. I heard his name called as he passed down the platform from the first class. I held up my hand and he strode towards me. He shook it, "Good to see you, Tom, and such an unexpected pleasure."

  I nodded non committally, "The car is outside. No luggage?"

  He shook his head as we walked to the car park. "I keep a spare set of everything at the flat. It saves packing." As I drove down the lane he said, "I am guessing your last operation was harder than Dieppe."

  "You knew about Dieppe?"

  "I bumped into Lord Lovat and Lord Louis at the club. They were singing your praises then they both went quiet when I asked what you were up to. I guessed it was cloak and dagger again."

  I nodded, "Tunisia. Jerry had captured a brand new tank the Americans had loaned us. We had to blow it up."

  "At least you didn't have to nursemaid old fogies this time."

  "You weren't the old fogey."

  We drove in silence. "Was it rough?"

  "I lost a man. One of the young lads, Peter Groves. He was a quiet boy; just started courting."

  "And you blame yourself."

  I flashed him a look, "How did you know?"

  "I was the same. Whenever someone went down in a ball of flames I blamed myself. Silly of course. No one man can protect all those who serve with him. You have to accept some deaths as being... well war."

  "I don't think I will ever get used to it."

  I drove in silence for a while.

  "Mountbatten thinks highly of you, you know. You are the chap he thinks of when he has something difficult to manage."

  "Oh great, so I can expect all the hard missions can I?"

  He laughed, "I shall tell him you want others to do them shall I?"

  "No, don't you dare."

  We pulled in the gate. "You like the position you are in but you worry about the men you lead. I know the feeling. I still have that problem. When I send a squadron to escort bombers or to attack an enemy I know it is the right thing and I am honoured to have to make those decisions but I hate it when the lads do not return. Part of me stays with them wherever they fell." He got out of the car but, as he was doing so he said, "Keep schtum about the war eh?"

  "Of course."

  We had two bottles of wine with the rabbit. Mum had used the last dregs of a bottle of port for the sauce and it was delicious. Mum was as happy as she could be with the two men in her life in the same room. We didn't talk about the war but I told her about Mrs Bailey and her burgeoning relationship with Sergeant Major Dean and I told her about the young men I led. For some reason she found it totally fascinating. I realised why later on. Dad moved in the higher echelons of the military. It was all grand strategy and the bigger picture with him. With me it was the minutiae of war and relationships between small groups of men.

  "You know it must have been like your father in the Great War. He would come home and tell me about Ted, John, Randolph. Didn't you Bill?" Dad nodded. "I knew all about their hopes and dreams, whom they were seeing, or not. And you are the same. This Mrs Bailey seems a nice lady."

  "She is." I told her about her concern for the girl Margaret and her loss.

  I saw Dad frown. I had said too much. "So you lost one of your boys?" I nodded. "That's why you have this leave. You must have barely escaped with your life."

  I laughed, "That is a bit dramatic, Mum. Peter was just unlucky."

  "And that is no consolation. Every time your father went up in one of those string bags I wondered if he would land safely or come back disfigured by fire."

  "Mum, the worst I have had is a bite from a German Shepherd!"

  My Dad said hurriedly, "That is the dog, Beattie and not a cross German!"

  She scowled at him and I thought they were going to row. Instead she burst out laughing. "I can never win with you two can I?"

  He went over, sat on the arm of her chair and put his arm around her, "Some would say you won when you got me, my love!"

  In answer she gave him a push and he fell flat on the floor, "I hate to say it, Dad, but you asked for that didn't you?"

  "I guess I did!"

  Mum was happy, over the next two days, just to have Dad and I ramble around the countryside, enjoying pints in country pubs and watching the end of autumn. She busied herself in the kitchen making bramble crumbles and stews with the cheapest cuts of meat and suet crust lids. She had her two men home and her world would have been perfect if Mary had managed leave.

  Dad and I even joined Joe for one of his Home Guard patrols. Like me Dad was sceptical about the danger a roaming POW would pose. "I was hunted in the French countryside in the Great War and Tom here has had to hide behind enemy lines. Neither of us were any danger to the locals. The soldiers? Yes. I think the civilians will be safe enough." Dad was a senior officer and I saw the relief on Joe's face. His mind was at rest.

  Chapter 13

  On Saturday Dad took Mum and me out for a drive and a lunch at a nice country pub, 'The Stan
ley Arms'. It was a couple of villages away but a lovely drive. Although the food was not as good as it had been before the war the roaring fire and fine ale more than made up for it. We had a really good time and Mum laughed at every one of Dad's jokes. We all forgot the war. That was a dangerous thing to do. There was no hurry and a leisurely drive saved precious petrol. We took our time.

  We were just three miles from home when we were stopped by the Home Guard. Joe was in his sergeant's uniform. "Trouble Joe?"

  "Yes sir. Prisoners escaped from the POW camp. Three of them." Dad nodded, "They killed a young chap. Alan Raysworth from Tolesby way."

  Dad suddenly became serious. "That is just up the road."

  "Yes Group Captain. The regulars are blocking off the roads to London and the coast. They seem to think they will head east. We have been given this area, to the west."

  One of the men, Albert, said, "This time we shoot first and ask questions after. Murdering buggers!"

  Dad said, "I know what you are thinking, Albert, but we do this properly." Albert nodded. "Now is this it? Have we the complete Home Guard here?"

  Joe said, "We are only short of Albert's lad, Walter."

  Albert shook his head, "He went to check on his young lady and her mum." He pointed north. "They live Stanhow. It is closer to the camp. I told him the regulars would check it out but he wouldn't listen. Sorry, Group Captain."

  "Don't worry Albert. If ten of us can't catch three prisoners of war then one extra youth would not help. Right. Tom and I will go home and get our guns. I reckon they would head for the woods. They could lay up there. If I was Jerry I would wait until nightfall when the hue and cry had died down and then steal a car. The woods would be a good place to wait."

  Joe nodded, "We'll meet you there, sir."

  Once home we quickly changed into more suitable clothes. I put my Luger in my belt and took my twelve bore. Dad smiled when he saw my Luger. "Just like mine in the Great War."