He turned to Jean-Paul. "I don't know what to think. It looks impossible to me."
"What do we do?"
"Go down. It's the only way to find out for sure."
"The cliff path?"
"No. If it is a submarine base I might walk straight into the hands of the Germans. Look over there." He pointed away to their left. "That outcrop of rock seems to go most of the way down. If I use the rope and go down behind it, I’ll be hidden from anyone below."
Jean-Paul nodded. "Let's go, then."
Tony led the way further along the cliff edge until they reached his chosen spot. He tied their rope to an outcropping of rock.
"I'll go down alone, Jean-Paul. You stay here and keep watch."
The Frenchman nodded as his companion slipped silently over the edge of the cliff. As Tony lowered himself carefully down the cliff face he was thankful for all the night exercises he had endured in Scotland. There was little moonlight, but he found his hands and feet working almost independently, seeking out the best route to the cliff base. Within five minutes he was down, peering round the rocky outcrop. The rock platform at the base of the cliff path seemed deserted at first glance, but as he watched he saw a flicker of movement away to his right. A guard. He turned his head towards the end of the narrow cleft. The dark shadow which he had seen from above was not the depths of a cave, but huge iron doors painted matt black, the same shade as the surrounding rock. His mind was a whirl. If there were metal doors here, it was the right place, but it would be totally invulnerable from the air. This base would have to be destroyed from the ground. He would have to get a closer look. He watched the guard closely. Surely the huge sea doors would not have to be opened to admit a single man. There must be another entrance.
Time passed slowly, but eventually the shadowy figure made his way towards the doors, and then disappeared. One moment he was there and the next he was gone. Tony crept out from behind the rock, and made his way to where he had last seen the soldier. A narrow crack in the rock led to a cleft, which disappeared into the cliff. After a moment’s hesitation, Tony entered. His heart was beating rapidly, and the palms of his hands were sweating. If this led to a U-boat base, he was likely to meet an enemy any time. If he came across another guard in the cramped confines of the passageway, he would have no choice but to fight. He would be outnumbered and have little chance of getting out of there alive. Tony pressed on, moving as quickly as he could as the passageway turned to the right. He found himself gazing into a huge, well lit cavern.
The place was a hive of activity, with uniformed soldiers and workers in overalls moving purposefully about. To his left Tony saw a pile of boxes and slid behind them. From his new position he could see without being seen, and he studied the chamber. A large expanse of water was surrounded on three sides by a wide rocky ledge, much of it seemingly recently blasted from the raw rock of the cave. On this ledge, set back against the walls, were piles of boxes, stores and spare parts, and huge drums of diesel fuel. To the rear was a broad passageway which, judging from the activity around it, led to a smaller cave which was possibly used as sleeping quarters for the scores of men employed here. But what caught and held Tony’s attention were the two huge black shapes lying at rest in the water. U-boats!
Tony closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to control his feelings. He had found it! He had not failed after all! He opened his eyes again, and watched the activity all around him. One of the submarines was covered with a swarm of men - mechanics and fitters in overalls worked steadily while boxes of supplies were passed along a long chain of men and down into the hull of the submarine. The other U-boat was quiet. There was no one aboard as far as he could see. A klaxon sounded, echoing loudly in the huge rock cavern. The lights went out and the great expanse of the sea doors began to open, creating an area of grey light in the darkness of the cave. Everyone in the cavern stopped what they were doing as the mooring ropes on the second U-boat were cast loose. As the doors finished opening, the engines of the sinister shape roared into life and the U-boat moved steadily out of the cavern and into the sea cleft. Tony was unable to see it manoeuvring itself out to sea, for the door closed immediately, the lights came on and the workers resumed their jobs as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Perhaps it had not. Perhaps this happened most nights. Tony was more convinced than ever that this base must be destroyed. He looked carefully around him. There were plenty of places where explosives could be concealed, and in such a confined space they would cause the maximum amount of damage. With a final look around, Tony slid back into the rocky defile which led outside. In no time at all he was back out in the open air, concealed behind the outcrop of rock.
The Englishman sat against the rock for a moment, trying to control his excitement. He realised it was later than he had thought. He must have been in the cavern for almost an hour. Aware that Jean-Paul was probably worried by his prolonged absence he gave two tugs on the rope, a pre-arranged signal, and began to climb.
The ascent took longer than the descent, but it was not too arduous and he was soon back on the cliff-top. Jean-Paul began to haul in the rope.
"You don’t have to tell me what you found down there, Albert. I saw the U-boat leaving. What an incredible sight! If I’d not seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed that it was possible to manoeuvre a boat in such a confined space."
"Yes, I found it." Tony’s voice was grim. "But there’s no way an air attack can damage what they have down there."
"What do we do then?"
"I’ll send to England for explosives and weapons. We will have do it ourselves."
Jean-Paul looked surprised and a little fearful. "Whatever you say, Albert."
"You’re a brave man, Jean-Paul. Now let's get going, it's only about two hours till dawn."
"Wait." Jean-Paul laid a hand on Tony’s arm. "Look."
Lights could be seen moving through the trees, and the sound of heavy engines reached their ears.
"Supply trucks?" Jean-Paul was bemused. "Why come in the night? It’s too dark to get anything down the cliff path."
"Let's watch."
They had little choice but to remain hidden. To break cover now would mean almost certain discovery by the troops who accompanied the trucks. The area around the summit of the cliff path was a hive of fevered activity as boxes of food and supplies were unloaded, along with large drums which Tony guessed must contain diesel, or drinking water for the submarine crews. The supplies were piled up, no attempt was made to carry them down the cliff, and less than an hour after appearing, the trucks turned and retraced their tracks, leaving just one of their number behind. A guard of eight soldiers remained with the supplies so the two watchers were still unable to leave their hiding place.
"What are they doing now?"
"I would guess they’re waiting for sunrise," Tony replied. "They obviously want to keep this base secret, so the supply trucks come at night. With the curfew no one will see them leaving the road loaded with supplies and returning some time later from an apparently deserted cliff top without their heavy loads. But it’s too dangerous to move the loads down the cliff face in the dark, so that must be accomplished during the first daylight hours. Very clever."
The two friends continued to watch in silence until the pale light of dawn began to tinge the sky. The soldiers, who had been sitting on the supplies, chatting as though they did not expect any trouble, now rose to their feet and moved to the cliff edge. Two of them remained on guard. The remaining six set to work assembling a block and tackle arrangement which came with the supplies. Tony smiled grimly.
"So that’s how they do it," he whispered as the first of the huge drums was lowered over the cliff edge. The sound of voices and laughter reached them as a number of men ascended the cliff path to join the soldiers. With shouts of greeting they picked up the smaller bundles and boxes, and disappeared over the cliff edge. The work continued for more than an hour. Groups of men carried supplies while the block
and tackle creaked incessantly as heavier loads were lowered directly onto the rocky shelf below. Empty drums and boxes were raised, and loaded into the remaining truck. When all the supplies had been dealt with, the soldiers dismantled the block and tackle, loaded it onto the truck and clambered aboard. The engine roared into life and the truck disappeared into the trees.
"A very neat operation." Tony was impressed. "The only weakness is that they don't think anyone will be able to find this place. If the lax security at the keeper’s hut is anything to go by, an attack by land on this base should be possible."
Jean-Paul nodded. “Yes, Albert. Now let’s go home."
The two men rose stiffly from their hiding place, and made their way back into the cover of the trees as the morning sun rose higher in the sky.
Later that evening Tony began to encode his message for England. No matter how hard he tried he could not keep the message as short as he would have liked, but that was unavoidable. He was relieved to find that his mastery of the Playfair Code had not deserted him, and finally the message was ready. Jean-Paul helped to retrieve the wireless set and gun from the manure heap, and Tony set off. He was two miles from the cottage when he looked at his watch and realised that his call-in time was fast approaching. He was already in deep cover, far enough from the Boues' home that suspicion would not fall on them, so he set up the transmitter and waited. The five minutes’ wait seemed to stretch to eternity, but finally the time was right and he began to tap out his message on the key.
"Albert. KHURQILHOG."
The headset crackled.
"Receiving."
"U-boat pens found. Invulnerable to air attack. Drop container. Brens. Plastic. Limpets. Reception Committee and zone will be organised. Over."
"Received. BBC next contact. Over."
"Understood. Out."
Within moments the wireless set was dismantled, and Tony on his way back to the cottage. He was thankful that the hiding place for the wireless was so close to the cottage, for now he would have to listen in every evening until his code call came through telling him to make contact. That would mean the container was ready, and they needed dropping co-ordinates. Tony was excited. This was what he had looked forward to and trained for, ever since those days on the beach at Dunkirk. Within days, weeks at the most, he would be striking a blow against the enemy, to avenge the deaths of the refugees on the road, the soldiers on the beaches, and David. As he rubbed his tired eyes he smiled grimly at the thought of David and home. If only his father could see him now!
As he approached the cottage all thoughts of home fled from Tony’s mind. It was almost forty-two hours since he had last seen a bed. All Tony wanted to do now was sleep.
Jean-Paul got a message to Madeleine the next morning. She was to find Claude and Charles, and arrange for them all to meet with Tony and Jean-Paul at the same rendezvous as before, at ten o'clock that night. When Tony and Jean-Paul arrived, warmly wrapped against the cold night air, the other three were already waiting for them. Tony smiled in greeting.
"Bonsoir."
"Bonsoir" chorused the members of the Resistance group.
"Have you found anything yet?" Charles' question was eager and Tony smiled.
“Yes, Charles. We’ve found the U-boat base."
Smiles and congratulations greeted this statement. Tony held up his hand.
"It’s not all good news. The base is well hidden. Any attack from the air would cause little or no damage. That means we must destroy it."
"Us? But we have no weapons; no ammunition."
"I know, Claude. I’ve been in touch with London, and they’ll supply everything we need."
"How?"
"Parachute drop. That’s why I’ve called you here. We must find a suitable drop zone and be clear of our procedures before the drop comes."
"Will they send us much equipment?"
"I’ve requested one container. It will be one foot in diameter and almost six feet long. It’ll take the four of us men to carry the contents."
"What about me?"
Tony smiled at Madeleine. "Once we have unpacked the container we’ll take its contents to a store. Jean-Paul will organise that. You’ll remain at the drop zone and bury the container, Madeleine. But you must be careful. There must be no sign left."
Madeleine nodded. "Yes. I can do that."
"The main question is where should the drop take place."
Claude frowned thoughtfully. "You will be needing an open space, with cover close by?"
A nod from Tony.
"Up in the hills, where we can hide what they send with less fear of discovery?"
Another nod.
“Then, Jean-Paul," he turned to the other man, "what about the high meadow where we used to go hunting before the war?"
Jean-Paul hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "But of course! It’s ideal! Why didn't I think of that?”
"Can you show me on a map?"
Jean-Paul nodded.
"Then it’s settled. We’ll get word to Madeleine when we know the date and time and we will meet there. Can you find a place to cache the goods nearby?"
Jean-Paul nodded.
"Good. Madeleine, you must bring a small spade. The rest of us will need back packs, the bigger the better." He turned to Jean-Paul. "Is there material up there for starting a fire?"
"Yes."
"Good. We’ll light a fire to aid the plane. Madeleine," he turned to the young woman, “you’ll be responsible for hiding all traces."
She nodded. "Of course, Albert."
"Good. Then it’s agreed. Do nothing to attract attention to yourselves. We’ll meet at the high meadow sometime in the near future. Good luck and good night."
The group chorused their farewells. Soon the clearing was empty once more.
61
Every evening for a week, Tony took Jean-Paul’s radio, which had been hidden away when all such items were confiscated by the Germans, and went into the barn to listen to the news and messages which followed. There were not many. As yet there were few agents in enemy territory, though each seemingly senseless message was full of meaning for its recipient. It was on the eighth day that a relieved Tony heard the message intended for him.
"The heron returns to its nest in spring."
Tony returned the radio to Jean-Paul, and set out with the suitcase containing his wireless. Contact was easily established and brief, home station notifying Tony that the drop would be at eleven p.m. the following day. Tony relayed details and co-ordinates of the drop zone.
Early next morning, Jean-Paul made contact with Madeleine who promised to pass on the message to Charles and Claude that afternoon. At last, all was ready.
The night was bright and clear, ideal conditions for a parachute drop. Tony found the walk to the high pasture invigorating. He and Jean-Paul arrived a little before ten p.m. in plenty of time to build a bonfire ready to light as soon as the plane’s engines were heard. It was ten thirty when the others arrived, and the small group settled down to wait. As Tony watched them he could see their attempts to control their nervous excitement. He sympathised with them. He was tense himself, though he had been trained for just such a situation as this. For the others, it was a new experience which each of them would have to come to terms with in their own way. He looked up at the cloudless sky, where stars twinkled brightly. The plane would have left England by now, was probably already over France. He hoped it would get through all the air defences safely. Time passed slowly. He hated the waiting. Would the plane never come?
Madeleine heard it first. Soon they were all aware of the humming in the distance which gradually grew louder, heading in their direction but a little to the left. Tony checked his watch. 11.02. He leapt to his feet.
"Jean-Paul. Claude. Light the fire."
The fire caught quickly, and they heard the plane circling above them. Tony spotted its dark silhouette blocking out the light of some of the stars, then saw the mushroom open beneath it.
/> "There it is!"
He led the others in the direction of the falling container calling back over his shoulder. "Madeleine! Get that fire out!"
There was little wind and the chute came down straight, drifting a little to their right but still in the open meadow. By the time it landed, they were waiting for it. They rushed across to gather in the yards of silk that made up the parachute. The large metal cylinder, its four carrying handles giving it the appearance of a coffin, was lifted and carried into the shelter of the trees, as swiftly as its two hundred and twenty pound weight would allow. Once in the trees Tony showed the others how to open it along its hinged axis, and began to unload the contents. There was a quantity of plastic explosives, pencil fuses and limpet mines, all of which would be crucial to the destruction of the submarine pens. To Tony’s delight, the packers had also included two Bren guns with plenty of ammunition. The munitions were divided into four equal piles and loaded into the backpacks. The four men were rising to their feet and adjusting their burdens, when a breathless Madeleine arrived.
"The fire is out. Ashes and unburnt wood in the trees. I've replaced the turfs."
Tony smiled. "Good. Put the parachute in the empty container, then bury it here. Cover it well with dead growth so that the disturbed earth will not be seen. We'll meet you back here in one hour."
Madeleine nodded and set to work as the four men disappeared, Jean-Paul in the lead, to conceal their supplies. Jean-Paul led them up the side of a hill to a deep gully, which led to a cave. It was not very large, but was dry and well hidden. Tony smiled broadly.
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