"Albert. KHURQILHOG."
He did not have long to wait before he heard the beep...beep of a reply in his headset.
"Receiving."
He tapped out his message, slower than usual due to his injuries, and he wondered if the receiving station would find it too suspicious.
"Mission accomplished. Albert injured. Need transport from coast. Hospital needed. Over."
There was a pause. Tony’s heart raced. Hurry, hurry, he thought, wondering if the Germans were on to him yet. Then the reply came.
"By sub possible. BBC message to confirm. Co-ordinates? Over."
Tony sent the map references for the nearby beach.
"Received. BBC 'Three men in a boat'. Pick up 9.13. Over."
"Understood. Out."
Tony switched off the transmitter and lay back on his bed, tired by his exertions. So they would try to send a submarine. If he listened to the BBC broadcast every evening, he would receive the message 'Three men in a boat’ on the day they were to pick him up. Now he had wait and see if the Germans had picked up his transmission. The minutes dragged by. The wait seemed long, much longer than an hour. Tony was tense, knowing that if the Germans had traced his message to the hut he would be unable to escape them. By the time he acknowledged that his transmission had gone undetected and that he was safe, his head throbbed and he longed to sleep.
The door opened to admit Jean-Paul and Theresa.
"Is everything all right?"
Tony nodded.
"Good." Jean-Paul turned to his daughter. "Make yourself a bed on the floor, and try to get some sleep. I’ll sit with Albert tonight. You don’t need to watch until morning."
"All right, Papa."
Theresa took some blankets and made herself a bed on a pile of nets in the corner. They smelt of stale fish and were not terribly comfortable, but it was better than sleeping on the floor. Jean-Paul turned to Tony.
"I’ll hide the radio again, then I’ll sit with you." But Tony was already sleeping the sleep of the exhausted
66
The days, and nights, passed slowly. Theresa proved to be a good nurse, washing Tony, feeding him and keeping him company through the daylight hours. Leclerc managed to visit the small fishing hut at least once a day, and he was content with his patient’s progress. Much of the swelling in the abdomen had gone down, and he no longer feared that Tony was bleeding internally. The cut on his forehead was healing well and the broken bones seemed to be knitting together. But Leclerc was still worried about the leg; it had been a bad break and he wished he could X-ray it to make sure that it was set properly. Tony was slowly regaining his strength and sat up for short periods, although this tired him out and often led to a headache. He had been worried about this, but Leclerc assured him that headaches were quite normal after such a blow to the head, and the concussion he had suffered. Jean-Paul visited the fishing hut each evening, and spent the night there so Theresa was able to get some rest. On the first evening after Tony had radioed England, Jean-Paul brought his small family radio to the hut and the two men listened together to the BBC broadcasts. The news of how the war was being fought in North Africa and the situation back in England lent some interest to the long, boring days for Tony. But what really captured their attention and had them leaning over the radio in anticipation were the messages put out by the BBC after the news, at the instigation of the SOE. There were not many messages each evening, and Tony always felt a keen sense of disappointment when they were over and the music programmes resumed without a message to say that his transport was on the way. To hide his disappointment, Tony would talk for a while with Jean-Paul, of happier times in the past, and of the present situation in Saint Nazaire after their successful raid on the U-boat base.
Tony noticed a change in Jean-Paul as the days progressed. He was looking paler, and dark shadows rimmed his eyes.
"Are you all right, Jean-Paul?"
The burly Frenchman nodded. "I’m fine, just a little tired. It’s six days since your accident and I’ve had too little sleep in that time." He smothered a yawn. "The Germans are still being heavy-handed and keeping a close eye on everyone, even though they still seem convinced that it was a commando raid. Nevertheless they are watching us closely for any break in routine, so I must continue with my normal work on the estate as well as spending my nights here."
Tony nodded. "I understand Jean-Paul, and I don't know how to thank you. I would be dead or rotting in some German prison now if it wasn’t for you. I’ll never forget it.
Jean-Paul shrugged. "You don’t need to thank me. I’m here for the sake of our friendship, and for your grandmother." He frowned, his anger showing in his steely gaze. "I love my work on the estate. It’s what I’ve always done, it’s what my family have always done for the de Thierry family. But how I hate working there under the supervision of the Germans, providing food for them to eat in Madame’s dining room, watching them drink her cellars dry and lord it in her home!" He smiled ruefully. "Sorry, I’m getting a little carried away, but being tired is the least I can do if it will help to rid Madame’s estate of the Germans.”
Tony smiled. "Your loyalty to the family will not be forgotten, Jean-Paul. Nor will your bravery and devotion to your country. Now get some sleep. I'll call you if I need you."
Jean-Paul smiled. "That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time!"
Taking a blanket against the chill of the early November night, he lay down in front of the fire and immediately fell into the sleep of the exhausted. Tony watched the sleeping forms of father and daughter for some time, reflecting on his good fortune in having such stalwart friends. Then he, too, drifted into the oblivion of sleep.
Tony sat eagerly listening to the radio. The news was over and the SOE messages to its agents were in progress. Tony listened intently.
"The red car is lost... Daffodils bloom in June... The gate is locked... Three men in a boat..."
Though the messages continued Tony didn’t hear them. He looked eagerly at Jean-Paul.
"Did you hear that?"
"Yes. 'Three men in a boat'". Jean-Paul replied in heavily accented English. “That means they’ll pick you up tonight?”
Tony nodded. "From the beach outside at 9.13." He looked at his watch. "It’s 6.30 now. We must make sure we’re out on the beach by 9 p.m. at the latest. Do you have your torch?"
Jean-Paul nodded.
"Good. I can use it to signal the submarine."
"How will you get down to the beach?"
Tony turned to Theresa and smiled. "I’ll crawl if I have to!”
"You’re not fit enough even for that. I’m not sure that Papa and I can carry you between us."
Jean-Paul nodded. "My ever practical Theresa. You’re right, of course. I’ll fetch Doctor Leclerc. He’ll help us."
Theresa smiled happily at her father’s praise. She watched him wrap himself against the chill night air and set off in the direction of Leclerc’s house. Theresa sat beside the bed and the young girl and the spy tried to talk, but their minds were elsewhere, and the conversation soon died. Time passed slowly, each minute felt like an hour. Tony frequently consulted his watch only to find that the hands had hardly moved at all. A little before eight o'clock, Jean-Paul returned with Leclerc. The doctor smiled warmly at his patient.
"Sorry I took so long, but when Jean-Paul told me that you were going home I thought I’d better make some notes for your English doctor." He handed Tony a small package wrapped in oilskin to keep it dry. "I hope they can read French over there."
Tony smiled in gratitude. "Thank you, Doctor Leclerc. I’ll translate it for them if necessary." He shook the doctor’s hand.” Thank you for all that you’ve done for me, and the risks you’ve taken."
Leclerc smiled. "What else can a Frenchman do?"
Tony turned his attention back to Jean-Paul. "I’ve been thinking, my friend. I may come back if my leg heals properly, but if not it’s likely that another agent may be sent. Would you agree to be his
contact?"
"Of course, Albert. You don’t need to ask."
"Good. Then I’ll leave the radio, guns and remaining explosives here. Hide them well. Don’t try to use the radio or you might get caught, but feel free to use the explosives if the opportunity arises. But don’t take too many chances."
"Thank you. I, and the others, will continue your work if we can. It is our country we are fighting for."
"Before we go out into the cold, I have a little something to help us keep warm." With a triumphant flourish, Leclerc produced a small hip flask and passed it to Tony. He sniffed the contents curiously, then with a smile he took a deep swallow.
"There's nothing like cognac to keep you warm." He passed the flask to Jean-Paul, who savoured a long swallow.
"The Germans seem to get most of the good stuff these days. Where did this come from?"
Leclerc laughed. "I keep it for medicinal purposes!"
In such a jovial atmosphere the final hour passed swiftly. It was almost 9 p.m. when the two Frenchmen helped Tony into a sitting position, before raising him onto his one good leg. Tony’s head swam. It was the first time he had stood up for a week. Although he had put no weight on his injured leg, it was already beginning to throb painfully, and the cracked ribs felt as though they were ready to tear him apart. Jean-Paul and Leclerc supported him, one on either side. They took care not to jolt his left arm, which was still in a sling to aid the healing of the collarbone. Tony leant heavily on Jean-Paul as they made their laborious way out of the hut, and down to the beach some fifty yards away. Theresa followed closely behind with a bundle of blankets and the torch. On the beach the two Frenchmen lowered Tony slowly to the ground and wrapped the blankets around him. Then they seated themselves to await the submarine. Four pairs of eyes anxiously surveyed the stretch of water opposite them, but nothing moved, save the silver moonlight reflected from the rolling waves. The night sky was clear, there were no clouds to hide the moon which was almost full. Tony wondered if the light would deter the submarine captain from coming in tonight. He hoped not. The short journey from the hut down to the beach had been an agony for him, only endurable because of the hope of returning home at the end of it. If the submarine did not come, he did not think he could make it back to the hut.
At 9.13 precisely, a light flashed out to sea.
"That's it! Help me up!"
The two Frenchmen helped Tony to his feet and supported him while he used the torch to flash a coded message to the submarine. The other light flashed again. In the bright moonlight, Tony’s companions could see his smile.
"They're coming in."
He turned to Theresa, his face serious for a moment.
"This is goodbye then,” he said gruffly. "I don't know how I can thank you, Theresa. I never thought I'd find such bravery and strength in one so young. Your father must be very proud of you."
There were tears in Theresa’s eyes as she looked up at Tony.
"Get well quickly, Albert, and come back to us."
Tony leant down, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
"You can count on it Theresa."
He turned to Leclerc and shook him warmly by the hand. "Thank you once again, doctor. I don't know what I’d have done without you."
"All in a day’s work, Albert.” Leclerc’s tone was light, but Tony knew it hid the strong emotions of a man who had lost all that he loved to the enemy, and was now fighting in the only way he knew how. Finally he turned to Jean-Paul.
"What can I say, my friend? We worked well together, didn't we?"
Jean-Paul nodded, trying to control his emotions. He reached out and kissed Tony briefly on both cheeks. "God go with you, my friend."
The small party on the beach turned their attention to the water’s edge where a light canoe was beaching. One of the sailors in it remained seated, while the other leapt ashore.
"Where's our passenger then?"
It seemed strange to Tony to hear a voice speaking in English. He smiled, glad to be going home at last.
"I'm here."
The sailor looked at him. "Are you injured, sir?"
Tony nodded as the two Frenchmen helped him down the beach. It was not easy for them to get him into the boat, and by the time he was seated, his face was white and his teeth clenched against the pain. The sailor climbed in behind him. He was about to push off when Theresa ran forwards.
“Wait Albert! Don’t forget this!" She thrust Leclerc’s notes into his hand and he smiled.
"Ever practical, Theresa."
Then the boat was moving out into the waves to where the dark shadow of the submarine awaited them. Tony turned and waved to the three figures on the shore, who waved back before turning and disappearing into the trees.
"Are you badly hurt, sir?"
Tony grimaced. "Bad enough."
The young man shook his head in wonder. "I really admire blokes like you, you know. Going and living among the enemy and fighting him there. It must be really frightening."
Tony nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is. But you cope with the fear, when you find friends like I did."
They continued in silence. The dark bulk of the submarine became more distinct as they drew closer. The paddles dipped into the water with a gentle slapping sound, until the canoe came up against the hull of the submarine with a gentle thud. Eager hands lifted the injured spy up the conning tower, but speed was of the essence, and they were none too gentle. Tony’s leg was jolted against the hull and he cried out in pain. His shoulder was wrenched as they lowered him through the hatch and by the time he reached the bottom of the ladder he had slipped into unconsciousness.
Tony opened his eyes to find himself lying on a narrow bunk in a small, enclosed space. A steady thump...thump...thump communicated itself to him through the vibrations of the wall to his left, and he realised he was in the submarine. He turned his head to the right, and saw a man in naval uniform showing the rank of captain.
"How are you feeling?"
Tony smiled weakly. "Sore."
"I'm sorry we hurt you getting you aboard, but an enemy patrol boat had been sighted and we had to dive quickly."
"You mean we’re now under water?”
The Captain nodded. "Does that bother you?"
Tony thought for a moment, imagining the tons of water above him and on either side, pressing in, trying to crush them. Then he shrugged painfully.
"I suppose not. I'm just as likely to die in a plane as in a submarine."
The Captain laughed. "You'd be surprised how few people see it that way!" He looked thoughtfully at Tony. "You look as though you've been in quite an accident. What happened?"
Tony smiled. "Sorry, but I'm not allowed to talk about it. All I can say is I'm glad you were able to break off your patrol to come and pick me up."
"We wouldn't be able to break our patrol for anyone. It just so happened that we were on our way home and were in the area. We only had to divert fifty miles to pick you up."
"So you’re on your way home now?”
The Captain nodded, and Tony smiled in relief.
"Good. It's not that I'm not grateful for your help, but I’ll be glad to get to a hospital and rest.”
"By this time tomorrow we’ll be back at base." The captain turned to leave. "Now get some rest."
Tony smiled wearily. "Thanks Captain. That's just what I need."
The submarine stole into base during the long hours of darkness the following night. An ambulance was waiting, and Tony was carried aboard to be greeted by the welcoming smile of Jim Briggs.
"Jim! It's so good to see you! You know, there was a time when I thought I'd never see you or my family again."
Jim smiled, though his eyes were full of concern for his friend. "It's good to see you too, Tony. You deserve a long rest, but before that I'm afraid I must ask you for a full report; we only have your brief report that your mission was successful. We need more."
Tony nodded. "I understand."
>
As the ambulance made its way through the dark countryside Tony told Jim all about his time in France, the contacts he had made, the discovery of the U-boat base and how the explosives had been placed, while Jim took copious notes. When Tony came to the part where he had fallen down the cliff, his hands were sweaty and he was shaking.
"You know, Jim," his voice was soft, almost a whisper, "I thought that was the end for me. If it hadn't been for the bravery of my companions I wouldn't be here now."
"Your bravery had a lot to do with it too." Jim smiled. "Your father would be proud of you."
Tony returned the smile. "Yes. It's a shame I can't tell him about it." He frowned. "What do I tell him when I see him?"
"Your cover story is that you were caught in an air-raid in London a week ago. You look as though your injuries will fit in with that."
“That reminds me." Tony fumbled in his sling with his good hand and extracted Leclerc’s notes from their place of safety. "The French doctor gave me these notes for my doctors over here. Do you want them?"
Jim shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I'll be leaving you in a short while. I won't be coming all the way to the convalescent home with you. Though I will drop in and see you if I get the chance."
"Do you know where they're taking me?"
Jim’s smile was mischievous. "Can't you guess?"
Tony thought for a moment then opened his eyes wide in surprise. "You don't mean... home?"
Jim nodded. "It was my idea. I thought it might be more conducive to your recovery and the bosses agreed." His grin widened. "Of course, I didn't tell them that you would be benefiting from the ministrations of one nurse in particular!"
Tony laughed, then winced at the pain it caused in his cracked ribs.
"Thanks Jim! I owe you one!"
67
Dawn was breaking as the ambulance drew to a halt in front of the sweeping facade of Heronfield House. As Tony was carried on a stretcher up the steps and through the open doors, he felt a peculiar mixture of emotions. He was coming home, yet to a home that was strange to him. Instead of his family to greet him, there was a doctor, and the smell of disinfectant stung his nostrils. But the hall looked the same as it ever had, and the sweeping curve of the staircase led up to the room which had once been, and would be after the war, Tony’s own.
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