"You don't go looking, but you always find them." Jane's gaze was quizzical. "What have you got that I haven't? Is it something to do with that red hair of yours?"
"Now you’re being silly." Sarah rose from her seat and crossed the room.
"Why not pick one of them, and leave the rest for me?"
"I haven't found the one I want yet." Sarah grinned as she switched on the radio ready for the evening news.
"Really?" Jane eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “Are you sure you haven't found one man you like more than all the rest?"
Sarah turned away, her cheeks burning. "No. Now stop it, Jane, I want to listen to the news." She sat down again and sipped her tea as the radio hissed into life. The invigorating sound of a dance band filled the room for a few moments. When the record came to an end there was a moment’s silence, followed by the voice of the newsreader.
"This is the BBC news. Yesterday morning at 7.55 Eastern American time, the American Fleet at the naval base of Pearl Harbour was attacked by the Japanese."
The two women looked at each other, stunned. Turning their attention back to the radio, they picked up the voice once more.
"...first attack lasted for thirty minutes, and was followed fifteen minutes later by a wave of dive bombers and high level bombers. Details are still unclear, but it appears that the first wave of torpedo bombers were the decisive factor. Of the eight American battleships the Arizona, Oklahoma, West Virginia and California were sunk, while the Maryland, Nevada, Pennsylvania and Tennessee were severely damaged. Three destroyers were also sunk with at least four smaller vessels, and many more were badly damaged. Casualty figures have not yet been released, but are estimated at being over three-and-half-thousand. The Prime Minister has condemned the attack, which came without a declaration of war by the Japanese. Mr. Churchill stated that we would stand by our American friends in their hour of need, and has consequently declared war on the Japanese Empire."
Sarah turned her troubled gaze towards Jane.
"So we are at war with Japan. As if we didn’t have enough to contend with, fighting Hitler."
Jane reached over and switched off the radio. The sound of rain echoed dismally in the common room.
The rain ceased to fall during the night, but it was still a dull morning when Sarah walked beneath the trees, water still dripping from their bare branches with a depressingly monotonous sound. Tony limped slowly beside her.
"What do you make of it?" she asked, her brow furrowed. "For a long time now we’ve been hoping the Americans would come into this war and help us defeat Hitler. But I didn't expect that would mean fighting Japan."
Tony shrugged. "It was bound to come to that, I suppose. Japan and Germany are so closely linked. We would have been fighting the Japanese sooner or later. What I don't like is that we've jumped to America’s defence by declaring war on Japan, but they still haven’t declared war on Germany." His eyes flashed. "Do they expect us to keep the Nazis from conquering the world, and fight their battles too?"
Sarah stopped walking and turned towards her companion. Her eyes were troubled, and she laid a hand on his arm as though to draw the answers from him.
"They will declare war on Germany. Won't they?"
Tony smiled gently, covering the cold fingers of her hand with his.
"They'll have to, eventually. I can't see how they can avoid it now." He frowned. "Have you heard this morning’s news?”
Sarah shook her head. "What’s happened now? Surely things can't get any worse?"
"I'm afraid they can. Japan launched an attack on Hong Kong yesterday. Our battles in the Far East have already begun."
Tears started in Sarah’s eyes, as she thought of the fighting taking place. It was two years now since war had been declared. They had hoped to win quickly, but it had dragged on and was now escalating. It seemed that the whole world would soon be one great battlefield. She thought of the soldiers who would return to England maimed by the great battles to come. There would be thousands passing through Heronfield on their way home, and thousands more who would never return.
"When will it all end?" The tears began to fall. "How many more years of this can we endure?"
Tony put his arms around her, and gently drew her close. It was good to feel her in his arms once more. He was glad she turned to him when she needed comfort. He stroked her hair as she buried her tear -stained face in his shoulder.
"We can endure as many years as it takes, Sarah," he said softly, "and we won’t be defeated. America will come out on our side. Hitler can’t stand against us both. And when this is all over, it will be up to people like us to continue to be strong, and to build a peaceful world where nothing like this ever happens again."
Tony heard the cawing of a rook. He looked up to where the bird wheeled in the mackerel grey sky above him. Its cry seemed to echo Sarah’s hopelessness, and his arms tightened around her as though he could protect her by the strength of his arms alone.
70
So the days passed and Christmas approached once more. When preparing to celebrate the previous Christmas, people had hoped and prayed that it would be the last of the war. But here they were again, desperately trying to instil the holiday spirit into a country ravaged by war and stark with rationing. It would certainly be a Christmas unlike any that the British had known, but they determined to make the best of it with the limited food and gifts in the shops. It was a time of improvisation. A time to make gifts instead of buying them, creative cookery, making the most of what little they had. On 11th December, Germany declared war on the United States, bringing a strong ally to Britain’s side at last, although many still resented the fact that America had not come into the war earlier, and it had been left up to Hitler to drag them into the mele. The prospect of America’s strength being lent to the war in Europe was uplifting, but this was countered by continuing bad news from the Far East. On the 10th, the Prince of Wales and the Repulse had been sunk off Singapore, while the battle for Hong Kong seemed a one-sided affair, in favour of Japan. So Christmas Eve dawned amidst a welter of hope and despair, of promise and dread.
Jane entered the room which she shared with Sarah to find her friend sitting deep in thought, a small velvet box in her hand. Jane threw her wet towel on the bed.
"Come on, Sarah. Hurry up or you'll be late."
Sarah turned her serious gaze towards Jane. "I don't think I'm coming."
Jane's eyes widened in surprise. "Not coming? But why not? It's Christmas Eve. It will be one of the best nights of the year."
"I can't come because it is Christmas Eve."
Jane frowned, then her eyes fell on the box in Sarah’s hands and she understood.
"Oh Sarah. I'm sorry. I forgot." She knelt down beside her friend. "It was Christmas Eve last year when Joe proposed to you, wasn't it?"
Sarah nodded. "It just brings back so many memories." Her voice was filled with sadness. "I was so happy last Christmas Eve. I thought I had everything to look forward to, and now I have nothing."
"That's not true," Jane spoke comfortingly, "and you know Joe wouldn't want to hear you talking like that. You have your work. You're a born nurse and you’ll have a future in nursing even after the war. You have life and health, and you have friends who love you. Just because you don't have a man to share your life at the moment is no reason to give up." She grinned. "Look at me. I haven't got a man, and I haven't given up!"
Sarah laughed. “Oh, Jane! I'm so glad I've got you for a friend! You certainly help me to keep things in perspective." She looked down at the ring nestling in its velvet box. "Christmas Eve will always be a special day for me. I shall never be able to let one pass without thinking of Joe. But I’ll try to remember what we had together, not what we were never able to share." She closed the box lid and smiled at Jane. "Is the bathroom free? I want to wash my hair before the dance!"
The two young women entered the dance hall amidst a crowd of other nurses who had travelled with them on the bus to Marlborough.
The room was a swirl of colour. All the women wore their best clothes, some saved from before the war, while others were made with material bought with hoarded coupons. Many of the men were in uniform, obviously home on leave, but even with the farm workers they were outnumbered by the women. It was one of the difficulties of war. With most of the men away on active service, there were few left to keep the women company. But this did not stop any of them from having a good time.
Sarah led the way to the only empty table in the room, close beside the band, and they sat down. Her eyes took in the gay streamers and the bauble bedecked tree, and as she watched the couples dancing energetically she was glad that Jane had persuaded her to come. They had only been there for a few minutes, yet Jane was already dancing with one of the young men. Sarah smiled. Although her friend often complained of having no man in her life, it wasn't through lack of choice. Sarah supposed she was still looking for the right one. As Sarah watched she became aware of someone standing at her shoulder and looked round. For a moment she did not recognise the man in uniform, then she smiled.
"Tony! I didn't expect to see you here!"
She had not seen him in uniform since he had returned to the hospital, and had forgotten how well it suited him. He stood tall and straight, his boyish grin seemingly incongruous to one in uniform. Sarah thought he had never looked so handsome. She blushed slightly and turned away, so that Tony would not see the colour in her cheeks. He smiled.
"Aren't we soldiers allowed to enjoy Christmas?"
Sarah laughed. "I didn't mean that! I just didn't think you would bother with a dance, as your leg isn’t fully healed yet."
Tony shrugged. "It's getting better all the time, and I'm sure I can manage a dance or two." He smiled broadly. "Would you like to dance?"
Sarah nodded and rose to her feet. As he led her onto the dance floor, Tony thought how good her hand felt in his and as she came into his arms he felt as though he had come home. They danced well together, as though they were one, and Sarah was glad she had come.
"When do you have to go back to work?"
"I suppose my leg will be good enough early in the New Year. I’ll be glad to be out and doing things. I've been bored at home over the last few weeks." He grinned. "The only thing that has kept me at home for so long is our walks together."
"Has it been that bad? I thought you were getting on better with your father?"
"Yes, but I still want to get back to work. I've a lot to do before this war is won."
"Are you thinking of applying for a transfer to active duty?"
Tony looked down at her questioningly. "Why?"
Sarah shrugged. "I just wondered if you were getting fed up of an office job."
"The work is interesting,” Tony replied defensively, "and even if it wasn’t, I would still do it. It’s what my superiors think I am best at."
"How do you know you won't be better in an active unit?"
"Are you trying to get rid of me?"
Sarah shook her head vigorously. “Oh, no." She was surprised by the way her heart thumped at the thought of Tony in danger. "I just thought you might prefer it."
"Who knows?” Tony smiled. "I must admit I'm glad that my job keeps me in England at the moment, so I can see more of you. But I've told Dad I’ll apply for a transfer when the invasion of Europe comes, and it will." Tony breathed in the scent of Sarah's hair and felt her soft and yielding in his arms. "Enough of this talk of war. Let's enjoy ourselves."
The couple danced for a while. When Tony’s leg ached too much they sat and talked, before dancing again. As the evening drew to a close, Tony led Sarah outside to gaze at the brilliant winter stars in the cloudless December night. They were standing there, enjoying the quiet after the noise of the dance hall, when the clock in the church across the square struck twelve.
"It's Christmas Day,” Sarah murmured. She turned to Tony. "Happy Christmas, Tony."
"Happy Christmas, Sarah."
Their eyes met and held in the darkness. Slowly Tony leant down until his lips lightly brushed hers. For a moment Sarah’s thoughts were centred on the fact that this kiss was unlike Joe’s, then she gave herself up to her feelings. As Tony felt her lips move beneath his, he drew her close, his heart full. It felt as though she were made to fit in his arms. He vowed silently that now they had found each other, he would never let her go.
Tony’s heart filled with hope on that Christmas morning. Far away, on the other side of the world, night fell over Hong Kong, and all hope died in the hearts of the twelve thousand British soldiers who were taken into captivity.
JANUARY - APRIL 1942
71
Tony looked out of the window at the snow-covered lawns. He sighed deeply.
“What’s wrong?” Tony shrugged as he turned towards Jim.
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s good to be back here at Beaulieu, but I asked Dawson to send me back to France and he said no. It’s so frustrating.”
“Why did he say no?”
Tony grinned sheepishly. “For all the right reasons! He said my request was denied because he didn’t want to send me back to France suffering from a disadvantage. The doctors still haven’t passed me as A1 yet.”
“But you still want to go back?”
“Of course! You know I’ve been ordered to spend a few months telling the new recruits about my field experiences. I can see the value of that, but it doesn’t stop me chafing at the decision!”
He sat down at the small table in the mess, which overlooked the winter gardens.
"I know this job is worthwhile, Jim," he swirled the brandy around the balloon of his glass, "but I do wish I could go out there again." His voice was quiet, introspective. “You can't imagine what it's like to be out there. The constant tension, knowing that one small slip could cost you your life, yet the satisfaction of knowing what you’re doing is worth the risk. And the French people." He smiled at Jim. "There are a few traitors and a few who seem to have given up hope, but not the majority. There’s a spark in them, buried deep so that the Germans can't see it, but it's there, only waiting for the right moment to burst into flame, then nothing will be able to stop them. The few members of the Resistance that I worked with know the risks they’re taking, but take them nevertheless. Even the children are willing to risk their lives to oppose the Germans." He sighed. “I wish I could go straight back out there."
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself!" Tony’s eyes widened at Jim’s tone. "How do you think I feel? At least you’ve been out to France, while I’ve been stuck here instructing people like you."
“Sorry, Jim. I didn't think."
Jim smiled reassuringly. "That's all right; but don't forget you're not the only one eager to get out into enemy territory instead of sitting here at home. As it happens," his voice was smug and he smiled broadly as he spoke, "I’ll be going out next week."
Tony grinned, genuinely pleased for his friend. "Great. Where are they sending you?"
"Dinan. I’ll be setting up a network there with the aid of the local Resistance."
"Then we won't be far apart; if they ever send me back that is!”
Jim laughed. "Right, but I doubt that we'll get a chance to meet for a pint!"
The two men laughed at the thought. Two British secret agents meeting for a drink in enemy territory: how the Germans would love that!
"Getting back to more serious matters," Jim picked up his whisky and took a sip, "meet me in the weapons room at 9a.m. tomorrow. I’m to instruct you in the use of our new master weapon for secret agents."
Tony raised a quizzical eyebrow, but Jim would say no more.
Tony met Jim the following morning, eager to see what he had to show him. Jim was carrying a small bag with an object concealed within its folds.
"It's a Sten gun,” he said by way of explanation. "We started getting them just before you went out to France. Have you heard of it?"
Tony nodded. "Yes, but I know little more than its name."
Jim incli
ned his head towards a table, the only furnishings in the otherwise bare room.
"Come over here and I'll show you."
The two young men leant over the table, and Jim removed the gun from the bag.
"As you can see,” he said as he worked, "it comes in three pieces. The barrel, the body and the butt. Added to this is the magazine. Three or four are usually provided with each gun." In seconds the completed gun lay on the table between them. It was short and stubby, with the magazine sticking out at right angles to the left of the gun. "Whatever you do don't grip the magazine, or it will misfire." He pushed a spare magazine across the table to Tony, who picked it up and examined it.
"9mm?"
Jim nodded. "Yes. The same as the Schmeisser MP 30. The boffins thought that if agents were to take a weapon with them, they should have one with the same ammo as the Germans. That way there’ll always be fresh supplies at hand!"
"You mean steal from the Germans?"
Jim grinned and nodded. "Got it in one."
He passed the gun to Tony. He hefted it and nodded appreciatively at its balance and lack of weight. The barrel was only seven-and-a-half inches long, making the whole weapon very short and compact.
"It can fire either single shots or bursts," Jim continued, "but with such a short barrel, single shots are liable to miss. In bursts it can fire five hundred and fifty rounds a minute, though the magazine only holds thirty two." He frowned. "One of the drawbacks is that when the magazine is almost empty the breach can jam and cause a misfire, so it’s better to use only twenty-eight of the rounds." He removed the magazine, then reloaded it. "It takes a little time to reload, but keeping it loaded weakens the spring. So it’s best to load it when you’re ready to use it. The bolt also works on a strong spring." He demonstrated the movement with a satisfying click. "Be careful if it jams, or you could lose a fingertip trying to free it."
Heronfield Page 37