They had lined up in alphabetical order and the one I assumed was Crowe said, “Where is that sergeant?”
Gordy looked heavenwards. I smiled, “You are a commando. Let’s see how good you are eh? Find it!”
Ken Curtis said, “I’ll show you where the sergeants are bunked, Sarn’t.” He grinned at Gordy, “Moving up in the world eh, Gordy?”
“Lance Sergeant Gordy if you don’t mind.”
As we headed for the cook tent I saw an officer I didn’t recognise. Ken said, “He arrived late last night. Captain Grenville.”
“Yeah we heard he was coming. Didn’t want to come down in the lorry with us.”
Ken nodded, “That makes sense. He has been snapping at lads all morning about salutes, uniform, the usual.”
“But Major Foster doesn’t bother about that sort of thing.”
“I know Sarn’t; it may be it’s the new broom syndrome eh?”
I saw, at the headquarters hut, Major Foster at his car. Troop Sergeant Major Dean was leaning in. He saluted and the Major drove off. We were tucking in to some sort of stew when Troop Sergeant Major Dean came over. He sat down with his mug of tea. “That new bloke, Waller, looks to be a handful. He is in Jack Johnson’s section. According to Oswestry he is a good commando when it comes to climbing, running, fighting and shooting. The problem is he doesn’t get on well with others!”
We all laughed, “We have had tough lads before. He might turn out to be alright. The Major off somewhere?”
“Aye, he’ll be in London for three weeks or so. The new officer, Captain Grenville is in command.”
“And when do we get Lieutenant Marsden back?”
“Another month at least. There were complications. Anyway it means you run the section until he gets back." I said nothing but sipped my tea. "You aren’t complaining are you?”
I shook my head, “No, it suits me. It will give us time to knock these six new lads into shape.”
He nodded, “You have a month.”
“A month?”
He laughed, “We are victims of our own success. Everywhere we are being knocked back. The only place where we are winning is behind the enemy lines. The Commandos have to hold the fort until the rest of the army is ready to go back into Europe. There will be no rest for the wicked, old son. You have a month and then we will have a mission behind enemy lines.”
Chapter 2
Each day Gordy and I had them up at five o’clock in the morning. The old hands were ready for it. A week of rest had prepared them well. The six new recruits did not know what had hit them. We had them out on the roads for a ten mile run before breakfast. I confess that I needed the cobwebs blowing away too. It felt good. I used Ken and Gordy at the rear to chivvy them along. I knew the level of training they would have had at Oswestry. They would work to the lowest common denominator. Here I expected them all to achieve the highest of standards. Our experiences behind the lines had taught us that you could never be too fit.
When we reached the camp again the new boys were sweating heavily and their breathing was laboured. This did not bode well. I wondered if the men who had trained them at Oswestry were trying to send them out too quickly. I knew that there were far greater numbers now than there had been. Oswestry was just a small training camp. The largest were up in Scotland. I was quiet throughout breakfast. The fog of smoke and the smell of tobacco drowned out any taste the food might have had at one time. I listened to the conversation from the others. Things were not going well in North Africa. We were retreating again. The Germans we had met and fought were the tip of the force which Hitler had sent to support his Italian allies. Following on from the loss of 'HMS Hood' it created an air of depression.
I stood, “Gordy, get the lads ready to go to the range. Let’s see if their marksmanship is any better than their fitness.”
“Right Sarge. Where are you off to?”
“I’m off to see Reg Dean.”
I knocked on the office door, “Come.”
Reg looked up when I entered and, waving a hand to the seat opposite began to fill his pipe. “Right then; what’s bothering you?”
“How do you know anything is bothering me?”
He laughed, “Because you get on with your job and only ever call in to see me when there is trouble.”
“You are right Sarn’t Major. How long are we in this camp?”
“Why, what’s up with it?”
“Nothing but you and I know that having your own digs and looking after yourself makes better commandos.” He nodded, “And the other thing is the gossip. When they are with others then they chatter about anything. They listen to rumours. Too many of the lads look on the glass as half empty. You know I’m not like that. These new lads are not the fittest I have ever seen and all the talk of losing the Hood, being driven back in North Africa, well it’s not good for them. I'd like us to have a billet in the town. I would like us all in one set of digs. It worked in Harwich.”
“I can see that. Well the Major said it was only temporary. He isn’t here but I can’t see any problem with following King’s Regulations. You take your lads and get them billeted then.” He laughed, “You are a crafty bugger! By the time I tell the others your lads will have the best digs in town.”
I smiled, “I hadn’t thought of that.” I affected an innocent look but Reg was right. We would have the best choice.
When I reached the range Gordy and Ken had already begun training. They shook their heads. Gordy said, “Young Crowe here thinks he is Al Capone. He emptied a magazine before we could stop him.”
That was wasteful. “Gather them round, Gordy. I have an idea.” Once they were gathered I took Crowe’s machine gun. “This weapon is better than the Lee Enfield the ordinary squaddies get to use but it has one major drawback. Ammunition. We have to conserve it. Now Private Crowe here has emptied his magazine. We don’t do that. Short sharp bursts are what we use. Be mean with your shots. Imagine that you are paying for the bullets. We have one more hour here on the range. The first man to empty his magazine has to reload everyone’s magazines.” I saw a few sly grins appear on faces. “Oh and the other rule is you all have to put six consecutive bullets in the bull!” I smiled. “Corporal Curtis, you are the referee.”
They all wandered over to begin their firing. Gordy should have come up with an instruction which would have focussed them. I realised I had training to do with my number two as well. I waved him over, “After this training we need to find billets.”
“I thought we were staying here.”
“It was only temporary. I saw Reg Dean and we are the first to jump ship. The other sections will be told at lunchtime. We have a head start on them.”
“It’s a good idea. It means we don’t have to do sentry duty or dig latrines.”
“Actually Gordy it helps to make for better Commandos.”
“You are right.” He looked up as we heard the short bursts from the Thompsons. “That was a good idea, Sarge. I should have thought of it.”
“We just have to make the training more like a game. It will keep them interested. Oh and I want us all close together when we are in digs. I want to make them run to the camp each morning as a team. We have to bond the old hands with the new ones.”
“Do you think we are going into action again soon?”
“Every time the Major is sent to London we have some mission or other. I can’t see them letting us rest on our backsides too long here. Besides the Sergeant Major reckoned by the end of the month at the latest.”
“But we have just got back from North Africa!”
“I know but things move on quickly don’t they?”
When they had to pick up their kit from their Nissan huts some of them began to grumble. Polly Poulson shook his head. There had been a time when he had been one of the younger commandos and now he had battle scars to show his experience. “If you wanted a barracks and a normal army life then why did you join the commandos?”
Private Fletcher sai
d, “More money!” He was the Scouse voice I had heard in the lorry. He became Scouse to the rest of the section.
Ken Curtis rolled his eyes. I shook my head. They would learn or they would be shipped out. I was the arbiter of standards in my section. I made them double time down to Falmouth. There were many boarding houses there. I knew, from experience, that they would be the best place for us to be together. I selected the biggest one which was close to the sea. I knew that the MTBs and MLS I saw bobbing about in the harbour would be our transport to wherever we would be sent.
I realised we had dropped lucky when Mrs Bailey opened the door. Her red hands showed that she was not afraid of hard work and her steely eyes that she ran a tight ship. I introduced myself and explained who we were and what we wanted.
“I thought you lads had a nice camp up on the top?” She had the lovely rolling Cornish accent.
“Yes, ma’am but we are commandos. We pay for our own billets.”
Her eyes lit up, “You pay in cash then? Not government script?”
I nodded, “They all have an allowance. So would you be able to accommodate us? There are thirteen in all.”
She nodded, “Ten shillings a week and that includes your laundry and breakfast.”
“Make it supper as well and you have a deal.”
“I’ll need your ration books.”
“I’ll tell you what. You make out a shopping list and my lads will get you the food you need. How’s that? It will save you a job too.”
She beamed, “If you blokes don’t mind shopping then who am I to argue.” She held out her hand, “Mrs Bailey.”
I noticed that she didn’t give her first name. “And I am Sergeant Tom Harsker. If you have any bother with any of these lads let me know eh?”
She laughed, “I have been a landlady these twenty years since my husband died. Don’t you worry Sergeant, I can handle these young lads.”
I smiled as she gave them a lecture on what they could and couldn’t do in her home. She sounded terrifying but she turned out to have a heart of gold. Over the next few months she became like a mother to us all. We discovered that her husband had come back from the Great War a broken man who had died of his wounds leaving her a young widow. Denied children of her own the young recruits became her surrogate children. They confided in her when they thought that I was too unapproachable. The arrangement worked out better than I could have hoped.
After we had sorted our rooms out I ordered Gordy to run the lads back up the hill. I had told them to leave their tin lids in their rooms for we would not be needing them. I also made them leave their greatcoats there too. They were only of use when you were on guard duty and we would not be doing that any time soon.
As they jogged along the road I said to Mrs Bailey, “You might warn the other landladies that the rest of the Troop will need digs too.”
“Thank you Sergeant I appreciate the warning.” She smiled, “You seem a bit young to be a sergeant.”
“Thank you for the compliment but you grow up quick in this war.”
I soon caught up with the others and we picked up the pace. I noticed that we attracted little attention as we ran with Thompsons slung and packs on our backs. This was Britain at war. Most people were just grateful that the Germans had not invaded yet.
We spent the afternoon testing the other skills of the new men. We gave the six of them a head start and told them to hide. Polly, Harry and George enjoyed hunting them. Surprisingly we found two gems amongst them: Reg Smythe and Scouse Fletcher were really good at hiding. It turned out that Scouse had been a poacher and Reg something of a tearaway who had engaged in a little burglary when younger. In peace time both were reproachable activities; in wartime they were welcome skills. That afternoon saw the beginning of the transition from recruits to commandos.
We were marching back to camp so that we could report to the duty officer when we encountered Captain Alistair Grenville, temporarily the commanding officer of the Troop. He stepped out from behind a tree close to the entrance of the camp. Gordy and I had seen him in the distance. If he thought he was hiding he made a poor job of it.
“Where have you been Sergeant?”
“Training my new section in the woods yonder, sir.”
“And who gave you permission to be off the camp?”
I was briefly stumped for an answer. We did not need permission to train. We used our initiative. “The Troop Sergeant Major knows where we were, sir.”
It was a lie but I knew that Reg would back us up.
“And where are your helmets? King’s regulations…”
“Sir, we don’t wear helmets. This is the Commandos.”
“Don’t be insolent with me Sergeant. From now on you will all wear helmets. Now double time back to the camp. I will be inspecting your barracks!”
I hid my smile, “Sir, we don’t have barracks. We have digs in the town.”
“What? Why wasn’t I told? Right, Sergeant you and I will go and see the Troop Sergeant Major. I can see that there is too much latitude here and you have taken advantage of the Major’s absence! I will soon put a stop to this nonsense.”
“Right sir. Lance Sergeant take the men to the armoury and then they will need to get some rations for Mrs Bailey.”
Captain Grenville gave an irritated snort and turned to march towards the headquarters. He didn’t bother with any preliminaries. He strode in and began without preamble. “Troop Sergeant Major Dean this Sergeant tells me that you have allowed him and his men to take accommodation in the town! Why was I not consulted?”
Reg kept a neutral expression on his face, “It is Standing Orders, sir. The Major always intended for the men to take digs in the town. The camp needed setting up and that is why we used the barracks.” He held up a sheet of paper. “It’s all here sir!”
Somewhat deflated he rounded on me, “And this sergeant tells me that he doesn’t need permission to take his section off training! Is that Standing Orders too?”
“In the absence of the section officer, yes sir. Lieutenant Marsden is still in the hospital. If you like I can have the Sergeant inform you when he takes his men off though, sir. You can do that can’t you Sergeant Harsker?”
“Of course Troop Sergeant Major.”
Somewhat mollified he said, “Right well do that and don’t forget the helmets next time.”
I coughed, “I told Captain Grenville that the Major encouraged us to use our helmet comforters rather than helmets but it seems Captain Grenville wants us to wear helmets, Troop Sergeant Major Dean.”
I said it in a reasonable tone for I knew that Reg would back me up.
“You see sir, when we operate behind enemy lines we need to be silent. The helmets are metal. If a Thompson hits one it sounds like a bell going off. Major Foster encourages the lads to use a soft hat to avoid that.” He pointed to the sheet of paper he had given the Captain, “Standing orders too, sir.”
He was defeated and he knew it. His eyes narrowed, “Well I have got my eye on you, Sergeant Harsker. Just because your officer is indisposed is not a good reason for you to take advantage of his absence.”
“No sir, sorry sir.” I did not mean my apology but Dad had taught me that martinets like Grenville could be handled better with feigned subservience. From his shiny uniform I suspected that he had not seen any action. I wondered how he had become a captain in the commandos without combat experience. I put him from my mind as I led my men back to our digs. I had more important things to think about than the feelings of an inexperienced officer.
Over the next few days we gradually inculcated the men into the section. They had to learn everything. On the third day, as we trekked across a ridge line, a couple of Hurricanes flew overhead. The new men all looked up. I shouted, “Halt!” They stood and looked at me expectantly. “Here is another lesson for you. If we are in enemy territory never do that!”
Private Bert Grimsdale said, “Do what, Sarge?”
“Look up when you hear an aeroplan
e. You keep your face down.” I saw the blank looks. “Lowe, tell them.”
“If you look up then they have more chance of seeing your white face. Keep still when they fly overhead and keep looking down.”
“But what about aircraft identification? Isn’t that important, Sarge?”
“No, Private Hewitt. If you were an ARP then it would. What difference does it make what kind of aeroplane it is. We don't pack anti-aircraft guns. A pilot can see more than you think. We have to be invisible.”
There were many such lessons. The more we went out, the more we learned. Lowe, Poulson and Gowland were the best teachers for they had learned it the hard way, in combat. By the time the Major returned I was well pleased with their progress. Even Peter Groves had improved. He still needed watching but he was not the gangster with the machine gun that he had been.
We knew something was up as soon as the Major returned. Officers and Troop Sergeant Major Dean were summoned to a meeting and the sergeants were told to be ready for a briefing. We gathered in the Sergeant’s Mess. There were just four of us for the Troop was down to four sections at the moment. The rest were at Ringway having their parachute training. Jack said, “Well it won’t be you lads who get given this job.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You had that North African caper. We have all been sat on our arses since Christmas.”
“You know it doesn’t work that way. It could be any one of us or all of us who get sent out.”
“Mebbe. How are your new lads?”
“Getting better. They think they are trained when they get here but we all know they aren’t. How about yours?”
“Alright except for Ted Waller.”
“The big lad?”
“Aye, he would be a good commando if he wasn’t such a thug. I am not certain he sees the difference between Germans and his mates. He is too handy with his fists. The lads are scared witless of him.”
“You’ll get the better of him though.”
“Of course! It is just that I wish I didn’t have to.”
Behind Enemy Lines Page 2