Behind Enemy Lines

by Hosker, Griff

  “Gordy, Ken, set booby traps.” I turned and saw the German sentry I had killed. I took his two potato mashers and tore the laces from his boots. I improvised a booby trap. I put one German grenade next to his outstretched arm and tied it to a second some three feet away. I spread some sand and stones on the laces.

  “Here they come Sarge and they are mob handed.”

  “Everyone, throw one grenade each and then give a burst from your Thompson. As soon as you have fired get down the cliff.”

  I heard a cry from my right as someone was hit by the blind German firing. Major Foster yelled, “Fall back! Fire in the hole!”

  I hurled my grenade. I had emptied my magazine and so, as the other Thompsons fired I took out my Colt and aimed at the figures illuminated by the explosions. The slope meant that we achieved a greater range with our grenades than we might have expected. I hit one officer and a sergeant before my pistol clicked on empty.

  Gordy was by my side, “Come on Tom! There’s just us left!”

  I turned and ran down the slope. It was harder going down than I might have expected. It was Gordy, however, who lost his footing when the first of the demolition charges went off. He tumbled over and I saw him hit a rock. He lay still. I ran down to him and hoisted him over my shoulder. I grabbed his Thompson too. It would not do to leave that for the Germans. Luckily I was on the gentler part otherwise I might have fallen as well. I heard machine guns from the cliff and then the crack of grenades as they triggered the booby traps. Rocks showered me and splinters of stone too. The Germans were firing blind. They could not see us.

  I found it hard to breathe as I laboured towards the water. Gordy was no lightweight. I saw the MLs bows. It was with some relief that I felt the icy blast of the sea and then hands were reaching down to pull Gordy from my shoulder. Once he was on board Scouse and Grimsdale hauled me up. Scouse said, “I thought we were a pair Sarge! What happened?”

  I rolled on to my back and sucked in air. “The usual, Scouse, things didn't go as planned! Get used to it, they never do.”

  I saw his face, grinning above me as the whole of the cliff above us erupted violently as the last of the charges went off and destroyed the gun emplacements. Even as I was being pulled aboard the launch was reversing out of the bay and heading back to Blighty.

  Chapter 4

  We were not out of the woods yet. Gordy said, “Sarge, Reg Smythe is wounded. A bullet to the arm. We have no Bill Becket anymore.”

  Bill Becket had been our first aider. He had died in North Africa. Reg Dean said, “As I recall from his docket Hewitt has St. John’s ambulance experience.”

  “Hewitt, see to Smythe. Use your first aid kit.” There was no argument. The young commando just nodded and headed below deck. “Troop Sergeant Major, we had better keep a good watch with the navy lads. These MLs are lightly armed. Our Thompsons come in handy.”

  Nodding Reg said, “I am glad I came on this little jaunt but the Captain was wrong. You could have handled this yourself.”

  I shrugged, “I didn’t mind. There is always someone to blame if it goes wrong.”

  “And I don’t believe that for an instant. You would never blame anyone for a mistake you made. You should be an officer.”

  I shook my head. “I tried Officer Training Course. I didn’t like the blokes who were training. They were too much like Captain Grenville for my liking.”

  “They aren’t all like that and I am certain you wouldn’t be. Give it some thought. I know the Major has talked about recommending you for promotion.”

  I pointed to the coastline we had just left. The sky was growing lighter. “We will have to wait until we get back to Blighty. We have six hours of open sea and I am pretty sure that Jerry will not be happy about our handiwork.” We could see the fires still burning on the cliff top. Although there had been no ammunition there the three buildings had had enough flammable material to make them go up like Roman Candles.

  The Killick came round with mugs of cocoa. He winked as he handed them out. “Stoker’s cocoa.”

  Troop Sergeant Major Dean nodded appreciatively as he sipped his. “This is a bit of alright!”

  “Navy looks after you. I’ll pop below and see Smythe while it is quiet.”

  The wounded commando was lying on the mess table. He looked a little pale but he was awake and smoking a cigarette. Hewitt was finishing bandaging it. “How is he?”

  “I found an exit wound, Sarge, so the bullet passed right through. I don’t think it hit the bone. He would be in agony if it had.”

  Smythe grumbled, “It still hurts like buggery!”

  “You have to be alive to feel pain. You’ll live. Think of the stories you can tell about how you were wounded on a commando raid eh?”

  He smiled, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  I turned to Hewitt, “Good job. From now on you are the section medic. I will get you a proper kit.”

  “But Sarge I was just in St. John’s ambulance. I only did it so that I could get in the Boro games for nowt!”

  Hewitt came from the north east and was a Middlesbrough fan. He and Scouse had had plenty of arguments with Crowe who supported Manchester United. “It doesn’t matter why you got into it; it is a valuable skill. You are it.”

  I went back on deck. The sky was even lighter now and I could see the other boats. Bill Leslie’s MTB was behind us and the other led our little flotilla. I looked at the sky. It was empty now but I had no doubt that there would be German aeroplanes seeking us out soon enough. The motor launch's Hotchkiss and twin .303 guns were our only defence. I finished my cocoa and then changed my magazine. Gordy, Ken and my other experienced men did the same.

  “Everyone, change to a fresh magazine.”

  Peter Groves said, “But we are on our way home!”

  Gordy snorted, “Well just in case Jerry decides he hasn’t had enough of your company do as the sergeant says eh, Grovesy? Just humour me!”

  We were two hours from Jersey when the search plane appeared. It was twin engined and kept going in and out of the clouds. I had no idea exactly what kind it was, probably a Henschel. It made little difference. We were spotted. I saw our young naval lieutenant go on the radio and a few minutes later we began to speed up. The launch was capable of twenty knots and we felt the difference as we began to bounce across the swell from the west.

  I had to shout to make myself heard above the sound of the engines, “Jerry will be here soon enough. Bullets can go through the decks so we might as well stay here and take our medicine. Have your guns ready but don’t fire until Lance Sergeant Barker or I give the order. We have done this before. If you are ordered to fire just aim in front of the aeroplane and, Crowe, this time you can empty your magazine!”

  “Thanks very much Sarge!”

  It was not aeroplanes which found us; it was a pair of E-Boats. We had met these before. They were heavily armed and extremely dangerous. They came from the west and their powerful engines soon brought them within sight of us. We could run but we could not escape. The aeroplane which had been spotting now dived down to attack us. It was a Henschel 129 and it had not only two machine guns and two cannons but bombs as well. It flew along our line so that it could engage us all in turn. Our young lieutenant swung the launch from side to side to put him off his aim but he was so fast that he had to hit one of us.

  I braced myself against the bridge and held my Thompson against my shoulder. The twin engined aeroplane would be flying at over two hundred miles an hour. It would be over us and gone in a heartbeat. I heard the pom-pom on the MTB as it hurled its shells at the aeroplane. The .303s chattered too. Our Hotchkiss was slow firing but the gunner gave it his best shot.

  “Ready! Fire!” The deck erupted as ten Thompsons let loose with a barrage of .45 slugs. I knew from my dad that it was terrifying to fly through such a storm of lead. He began to pull up and I saw, as he flew overhead his bombs as they fell from the sky. They did not hit us but I saw them explode in the water close to
the stern of the launch ahead of us. The propellers came out of the water as the explosives tore into the hull. It came down and stopped. It was dead in the water. I saw commandos in the sea. Lieutenant Green was still on the deck which was now canted to one side as it took on water.

  Our young lieutenant slowed us down and shouted, “Get those men on board, as quick as you can!”

  The leading MTB wheeled around to come to the aid of the second MTB. We would not be able to out run the E-Boats. We would have to fight them. The alternative was to leave the men on the other launch to their fate. I went to the side. I saw Horace Maguire, the section sergeant, he was face down in the water. I dropped my Thompson and jumped in. The icy sea was a shock. I came up and put my left hand under his chin to force his head up. I then sculled back to the launch. I heard Troop Sergeant Major Dean’s voice. “Just four feet to go. Keep coming.” I could hear the guns as the MTBs and E-Boats began to duel. In the sky I saw that the Henschel was flying low and smoking. He would be lucky to get home. Then I heard, “Grab this, Tom.” I felt something hit my right shoulder and I reached up and grabbed the wooden pole. I was hauled up still holding the unconscious Horace. We flopped on the deck like a pair of stranded fish.

  Hewitt was there. He said, “I did some work at the baths, Sarge. Let’s see if I can remember how to resuscitate.”

  I got to my feet. Reg threw a blanket over me, “You are a mad bugger and no mistake.” He pointed aft, the MTBs were beating a retreat. One of them was smoking. “It looks like we are losing this one.”

  Just then the launch leapt forward as the lieutenant gunned the motor. “Change your magazines, lads. We’ll need them again in a minute.”

  We were now overcrowded. As we headed north and west I saw bodies bobbing in the sea behind us. We had not escaped unscathed. I glanced down at Horace, “How is he Hewitt?”

  “Alive Sarge!”

  “Good lad, get him below decks will you?”

  Troop Sergeant Major Dean bellowed, “All wounded commandos get below decks. You are neither use nor ornament on the deck and you will only get in the way.”

  I loaded my last magazine and watched as the two MTBs drew close to us. We had more chance if we had all three boats together. We could combine our fire power.

  The Killick hurried by with more magazines for the .303s. “Number One has radioed for air support. You pongoes just keep your heads down!”

  Reg Dean snorted in derision, “I’ll keep my head down when I am dead! Ready with your guns lads. Let’s show these sailors that they have commandos on board!”

  There was a ragged cheer. We were down but not out. I could see that Major Foster’s boat was labouring. The gunner on the Hotchkiss at our stern took his chance and began firing at the bridge of the leading E-Boat. Sometimes you get a break and he did. The shells tore into the bridge. They must have hit the coxswain for it suddenly swerved to starboard. Major Foster and the commandos of Jack Johnson’s section let fly with their Thompsons. The second MTB began to fire at the stricken E-Boat. When smoke began to pour from it we all cheered. The flight of Hurricanes which zoomed low and strafed the two Germans brought the conflict to an end. When the damaged E-Boat sank the survivors swam to the second E-Boat which beat a hasty retreat back to the Channel Islands. The Hurricanes emptied their magazines and then waggled their wings as they headed home.

  Bert Grimsdale said, “Bloody Brylcreem Boys! Back home to bacon and eggs. There’s the life for you!”

  This kind of attitude made me cross. “Private, you don’t have the first idea what you are talking about. It was lads like that who stopped the Luftwaffe in forty! They can have all the bacon and eggs they like as far as I am concerned. They have earned it!”

  The former poacher was taken aback by my verbal attack, “Sorry Sarge. You are right.”

  “Stand by at the stern there, we will take Mr Horrocks’ boat in tow and well done Able Seaman Hogan! Double tot for you tonight. That was damned fine shooting!”

  The gunner was cheered by commandos and crew alike. He had been lucky but he had saved us that was certain. With the MTB attached by a rope we had a slow eight knot journey back to Falmouth. Two survivors from the other motor launch died and I knew that if we did not reach port soon then there were at least two more who might go the same way. One of those who was badly wounded was Lieutenant Green. He had a wound to his head. Neither the SBO nor Hewitt could say for certain what his wound was. His life was in the hands of God now.

  I was tapped on the shoulder by Horace, “I hear I owe my life to you.” He nodded to Troop Sergeant Major Dean. “Reg told me. Thanks but you took a huge risk.”

  “We look after our own Horace, you know that.”

  “Aye. What a cock up. I mean we get down with barely a wound and then we lose, well God knows how many.”

  “It is luck. You can plan all you like but there are some events you can’t plan for. We acquitted ourselves well.” A thought struck me; a memory of the raid. “What happened on the cliff top? Who fired the shot? A German?”

  He shook his head, “Nah, the new officer, Captain Grenville. He thought he saw someone moving and he fired his pistol.”

  “There was no one there?”

  “There was a sheep. Poor bloody thing jumped off the cliff. The daft bugger couldn’t even hit that. I am not impressed with him.”

  Once again we had the Hurricanes above us for the last half of the journey. They had flown back to their field and rearmed. I was constantly having to explain to soldiers that fighters did not carry huge amounts of ammunition. I sat with Reg Dean and Horace as we watched the south coast of England grow closer.

  “How many men do you reckon we lost Sarn’t Major?”

  “Have to wait until we get back to Blighty, Horace, but a fair few. I saw Commandos in the water when your launch went down and I dread to think what the MTBs will be like. They took a fair old pounding. Why?”

  “It just strikes me there is a limit to the number of men who can fight in the commandos. I mean anybody can join the army but it takes special skills to do what we do.”

  “There’s plenty, don’t you worry.”

  I agreed with Horace. The Captain and Waller were two examples of those who seemed to have the necessary skills but there was something lacking. Each time we lost a commando it set us back. I was just grateful that I had only had one of my men winged.

  The Killick came along with cocoa, “Jimmy the One says there is an ambulance waiting in Falmouth. Your officer will be taken away as soon as we arrive.”

  “Ta.”

  “You lads did alright. We have had some who think they are passengers on the Queen bloody Mary.”

  I laughed, “It’s not our first time.”

  “I know. You are Tom Harsker aren’t you?” I nodded. “Aye Billy Leslie told us about you. He said you could handle yourself. He was right. It takes either a nutter or a brave man to dive into the sea with his boots and gear on.”

  We saw the doctor and the medics as we pulled in to the jetty. The wounded were all whisked off. Troop Sergeant Major Dean was right Major Foster’s MTB had many casualties. Even the Major was wounded. Jack Johnson had survived and his man mountain, Private Waller, too. The rest of his section were either dead or wounded. He shook his head in disbelief as the ambulances took away all but him and Waller.

  “You get back to your digs Waller. I’ll see you at the camp 0800 hours. Have a lie in.”

  Waller shook his head at the attempt at humour, “Right Sarge.”

  “Of all the men to survive it had to be him! He is the most unpleasant commando I have ever met.”

  “He’s getting no better then?”

  “Worse if anything. Mind you he has got guts. He stood at the stern and blasted away with his Thompson. He doesn’t bother about his mates.”

  Reg asked, “Perhaps we ought to ship him out.”

  “I can’t think of a reason. He just doesn’t fit.”

  The last MTB tied up and Capta
in Grenville and Fred Briggs’ section disembarked. There were just six of them. I saw four bodies covered in blankets by the stern rail. The Captain came over to Troop Sergeant Major Dean. “Where is Major Foster?”

  “Taken to hospital. Just a scratch but he will be away for a day or two.”

  “Right, carry on Troop Sergeant Major.” He strode off without even looking back.

  Corporal Baines came over to us. “Fred bought it, Sarn’t Major.”

  I couldn’t help directing my gaze to the rigid back of the captain who walked away without a care in the world.

  “How?”

  “It was the last attack. Fred had our section add their fire to the MTB. Those E-Boats are bastards! He was encouraging the lads when he had his head taken off by a German cannon.”

  “Where was the Captain?”

  There was a pause. “He was below decks. He told Fred that he was a commando and not a sailor.” He pointed to the MTB where I saw Bill Leslie being reprimanded. “Your mate Bill said we were all in the same boat and he should do his bit.” He shook his head, “When the fighting was over Captain Grenville insisted that he be reprimanded. He has lost his Leading Seaman badge. He is back to Ordinary Seaman and he has fourteen days loss of privileges.” I felt my fists clenching. Bill had said what he had done because of me. He had lost two promotions. It was like me being reduced to a private.

  Reg said quietly, “You can do nowt about it son. He’s an officer. Your mate knew that when he opened his mouth. You know there’s no point in arguing with an officer. They always win.” He turned to Harry Baines, “You take charge of the section until I can sort something out.”

  “Right Sarn’t Major.”

  “And don’t forget to write a report for the Major.” He winked and Harry nodded. As he left Reg said, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat. If Mr Grenville likes to do things by the book then let’s use it eh? Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock in my office with your reports too.”

  “Right Troop Sergeant Major.”

  “And Tom.”