Behind Enemy Lines

by Hosker, Griff

“Yes Sarn’t Major?”

  “Thanks for keeping an eye out for me. You are a good lad.”

  That compliment made my day. I could take the Grenvilles of this world all week long and twice on Sundays so long as I had men like Reg Dean and his ilk on my side. “Right lads, back to the digs. Scouse bring Smythe’s gear and gun.”

  “Righto Sarge.”

  Their spirits were down as we marched back along the front. “Come on Lance Sergeant, a song to help us march.”

  He began singing one they would all know and I noticed that their step became just that bit sprightlier.

  Bless 'em all,

  Bless 'em all.

  The long and the short and the tall,

  Bless all those Sergeants and WO1's,

  Bless all those Corporals and their bleedin' sons,

  Cos' we're saying goodbye to 'em all.

  And back to their Billets they crawl,

  You'll get no promotion this side of the ocean,

  So cheer up my lads bless 'em all

  Mrs Bailey heard us singing as we were approaching and was at the door waiting for us with a smile on her face. We had not told her we were going behind enemy lines but she was no fool and our preparations had led her to only one conclusion. She frowned as they all passed her, saluting as they did so. “Where’s Reg, Sergeant?”

  “He took a bullet in his arm.” Her hand went to her mouth. “Don’t worry, Mrs Bailey, he’ll be right as rain in a few days.” She nodded. I added quietly, “We are soldiers and we will get hurt. Some of the other sections had men killed. We were lucky.”

  I saw her welling up, “It’s a shame. You young lads having to fight these nasty Germans. It’s like the Great War all over again!”

  I felt sad for the woman. She was reliving her time almost twenty years earlier when her husband had been, like my dad, on the western front. She must have seen many young men go to war and either not come home or, like her husband, come home broken.

  Chapter 5

  I arrived at the camp early for I wanted to write my own report. I was never certain who would actually read them but I was diligent and I did them. When I reached the office Troop Sergeant Major Dean was smoking his pipe and reading through his own paperwork. He gestured to the chair.

  “You know, Tom, I am not certain I can go back to a life behind a desk. I reckon I will have a word with Major Foster. I am Troop Sergeant Major I should be sharing the risks with you lads.”

  “You’ll get no arguments from me.”

  “In the meantime we need to do something about Fred Briggs’ section.”

  “What about Corporal Baines?”

  “He’s like Ken Curtis, he was only recently promoted. You won’t like it but I am going to give Gordy a chance with them. He impressed me on the operation. HeWhen the Major comes back he can make a decision but Gordy has the right personality.”

  I nodded, “You are right; he is a perfect choice. I can’t think of a better sergeant. He will be a good leader for the section and, you were correct, I am not happy about losing him but we do what we do for the service eh? Will you tell him?”

  “It would be for the best and it might be a bit easier too.” He picked up a clipboard, “This is for Captain Grenville; it is not me asking. Give him your plan for the week. And we have had orders from Headquarters to send the new chaps for parachute training. I will send your lads and the new ones from Briggs’ section.”

  “Good. They will enjoy that.”

  “What are your plans for your section today?” He nodded towards the clipboard.

  I groaned inwardly. The Captain was in charge again until the Major was fit. “I guess we will do some cliff and rope work. We nearly came a cropper the other night. Their accuracy is fine and we have their fitness in hand. They are turning out to be a good bunch.”

  “Excellent and Lieutenant Marsden is back next Monday.”

  “Thank the Lord for that! He can deal with Mr Grenville.”

  “Send Gordy to me at ten. That will give me the chance to catch up with this paperwork. It soon mounts up."

  I stood, put on my beret and saluted. As I opened the door I saw Captain Grenville standing there. I saluted. He looked right through me. It was as though I didn't even exist. I stood aside and he entered. I had put him from my mind before I reached the cook house where I knew I would find my section. It would not do to let him get under my skin.

  They were all waiting and, in contrast to the other sections, looked happy. The other three sections had the haunted look of those who have seen their best friends die. I had been through that on the retreat to Dunkirk. It stayed with you for a long time.

  “Right, my lovely lads. I thought we would do a bit of rope work today. George, go and get us some rope from the stores.”

  “Righto Sarge.”

  “Gordy, Troop Sergeant Major Dean wants to see you. Ten o’clock.”

  He had a worried look on his face. “What did I do wrong Sarge?”

  “You aren’t in bother. Just see him eh? And Lieutenant Marsden is due back on Monday.”

  The old hands gave a cheer. The new boys had yet to meet him. When George arrived back with the ropes I led the section out. “I’ll meet you lads at the cliff."

  "Which one are we using Sarge?” Gordy had a worried look on his face. Being summoned to the Troop Sergeant Major's office was daunting.

  “The one to the west. “

  There were a number of cliffs and rock climbs for us to use. The one I had chosen would allow us to use belays. I wanted them working with each other. They had to be able to trust every man in the section. As Gordy would testify you never knew when you needed a mate to get you out of a tight situation. We had made progress but if I was losing Gordy then I was losing the heart of the section. I needed them to become closer.

  Gordy had not returned by twelve. “Right lads, that was a good session. We will head back to camp and try some unarmed combat this afternoon.” Just then a cheery Gordy arrived, “Well?”

  “Thanks Sarge. Troop Sergeant Major Dean told me what you said. I have learned a lot with you.”

  Ken and the other old hands looking confused, “We are losing Gordy. He is taking over Fred Briggs’ section.”

  They were more than happy for him. “Drinks are on you tonight Sergeant Barker!”

  “And for once I will be happy to pay.”

  The walking wounded trickled back over the next few days. Major Foster was the first to return, complete with sling and scarred face. His smile soon disappeared when Troop Sergeant Major Dean gave him his reports. Major Foster was a good officer and a gentleman. We understood that he had words with Captain Grenville but they were in private. Reg Smythe returned a day later. Like the Major the doctor had advised longer to recuperate but Reg was keen to rejoin us. Finally, on Monday, Lieutenant Marsden returned. He had a slight limp; if you did not know him you would never have known but the wound had been life threatening. Like Major Foster, he fully endorsed Gordy’s promotion and it was made permanent. I had lost my number two. Ken would be just as good, in his own way but Gordy’s humour was irreplaceable.

  Over the next couple of weeks bandages disappeared and replacements arrived. Two more sections returned from detached duty and our decision to get such good digs proved to be amongst the best I ever made. The other sections were spread all over the town. We were central and together. It made us a tighter team. Our new members returned from their training in Manchester complete with wings. They all looked to have grown up while learning to be paratroopers at Ringway.

  Towards the middle of summer we knew that something was being planned. We had visits from high ranking officers. Lord Lovat made a visit and even Admiral Lord Mountbatten who was now in charge of Combined Operations. There were, however, other officers who arrived. They had no unit insignia which made me wonder about them. Dad had often spoken of officers who went behind enemy lines. Some called them spies while others used the term intelligence officers. The end product w
as the same.

  Two days after the last of these had visited us I was summoned by Major Foster. There was just Lieutenant Marsden in the office and Reg Dean had placed a guard at the door.

  I was waved to a seat, “Sorry about the dramatic nature of this, Tom, but this is fairly secret and we have to make sure we maintain our security.”

  “Right sir.” I was intrigued. I remembered the brass who had visited. What could this mean?

  The Major took out a map. “This is Guernsey. The Germans have captured the head of the resistance in the Channel Islands. He is a man called Maurice Dimmery. We found out he was captured six days ago but it wasn’t until today that we found out where he was being held.” He jabbed a finger at a small spot some two miles from the centre of St. Peter Port. They have him held here in an old manor house. Our job, your job, is to get in and rescue him.”

  “Aren’t we too late sir? I mean the Gestapo and SS are good. If they have had him for a week then he will be broken already.”

  The Major looked at Lieutenant Marsden. I can’t tell you how we know this, because I haven’t been told but I have it on the best authority that Berlin is sending interrogators over to the island but they won’t be there until the middle of next week. Apparently making him wait and worry is a technique the Gestapo are fond of. We have three days to get in and get him out.”

  “Parachute?”

  “Not this time. The islands are so small and the air defence so good that it is just too risky. You and Lieutenant Marsden and three of your men will go by submarine. You will be landed and then the submarine will lie off shore for twenty four hours to allow you to get in, rescue Maurice Dimmery and get back to the submarine.”

  “Right sir. Do you mind me asking, why me?”

  “Your skills with the French and German languages and, more importantly since you rescued the captives from North Africa your name is often spoken of. Brass know you can think on your feet and you work well with Lieutenant Marsden here. You are seen as a winning team. We need winning teams.”

  “Right sir.”

  Lieutenant Marsden asked, “Who do you have in mind to come with us?”

  “Ken Curtis and Polly Poulson They have the most experience. We need that.”

  “Good. While you are gone Troop Sergeant Major Dean will take over your section. We don’t want speculation about this. Now time is of the essence. You leave within the hour. A car will take you to Southampton where 'H.M.S. Sunfish' is waiting for you. It will take all day to get to Guernsey. You will land after dark and then the 'Sunfish' will charge her batteries and then pick you up. The Lieutenant has all the signals and codes. We have to get him out. If you fail then the RAF will bomb the house. They will flatten it completely. You four are the only chance this man has. The 'Sunfish’s' commander has orders to wait just one hour for you. if you haven’t returned then the order will be given and the bombers will go in. And if you are inside...“

  “Right sir. I’ll go and get the lads.”

  “I will wait here, Tom.” Lieutenant Marsden grinned, “We will succeed. I can feel it in my bones!”

  He had more confidence than I did. Reg Dean was waiting for me. “I know you are off somewhere but they won’t tell me where. I will come with you. Otherwise little lips will flap eh?”

  I nodded, “I am glad you are looking after the lads.”

  “It’s the least I could do. And listen, you watch yourself. You are not Superman, you know!”

  The section were in the armoury. “Curtis, Poulson get your gear. Wait outside for me.”

  The two of them knew me well enough to just nod and leave. Scouse Fletcher said, “Where are yer off to Sarge?”

  Troop Sergeant Major Dean snapped, “That is bugger all to do with you Fletcher but you and I will get to know each other well over the next few days. I am going to be your sergeant.” He gave an evil grin. “Won’t that be lovely?”

  As I left he winked.

  I caught up with the other two. Lieutenant Marsden waved us towards the lorry. We threw our Bergens in the back and jumped on board. The Lieutenant sat with us and the lorry set off east towards Southampton.

  “What’s going on, Sarge?”

  The Lieutenant put his finger to his lips and moved us down to the tailgate where the road noise would disguise our words. He was seated next to Ken and I was next to Polly. He said, “You brief Poulson, quietly eh? Loose lips and all that. I'll tell Curtis.”

  I explained to Polly what we would be about. His eyes widened, “A submarine?”

  I smiled, “Yeah we get about a bit don’t we?”

  Once briefed I went through my Bergen to make sure that I had all that I required. One thing I had taught my section was to keep their equipment ready to be used at a moment’s notice. I had eight grenades and two Thompson magazines. I had six clips for my Colt and four for my Luger. My Luger was in the bag along with my sap, the blackjack I had found to be a useful weapon. I had a canteen but I would need to refill it with clean water before we boarded the submarine. My emergency rations were there too: my salt, porridge, dried food and Kendal Mint Cake. Finally there was my toggle rope, lengths of cord and waterproof cape.

  Satisfied I put it down. “Sir?”

  “Yes, Harsker?”

  “I am not certain we need to take our Tommy guns.” I saw him frown. “If we open fire then we are going to be in trouble. Better to have a weapon which fires single shots. We use Thompsons and they will know that there are Commandos.”

  “I see what you mean but I would like to have one. Poulson, you bring yours.”

  “Right sir.”

  I must have dozed off for Polly suddenly shook me awake. “Here we are Sarge, Southampton.”

  We descended and the Lieutenant said, “Carter, there are three Thompsons in the back. Have them put in the armoury when you get back.”

  “Righto sir and good luck lads… wherever you are going.”

  We entered the docks. The Lieutenant had the necessary papers. The Redcap said, “There is a jeep for you.” He grinned, “It will be a tight fit!”

  He was right. With our Bergens and the driver we hung over the side of the little vehicle. We bounced down the cobbles to the far end of the port. There were three S-Class submarines there and a sub lieutenant waiting for us. He waved us to the forward hatch. 'HMS Sunfish', you must be Lieutenant Marsden?” The Lieutenant nodded. “Right sir, if you could get your chaps down the forward hatch away from prying eyes we can get under way.”

  There was a tap next to the submarine. “Sir, if we fill up our canteens here…”

  “Good idea.”

  We began to fill them up while the sub lieutenant looked nervously around as though he expected Germans to suddenly appear. I smiled. He looked to be about eighteen. I suspected this was his first mission.

  Lieutenant Marsden led us below into the stygian, red lit depths of the submarine. It was truly like going into hell. Poulson clattered his head off the bulkhead and a rating chuckled, “You pongoes will have to get used to ducking! By the time you leave us you’ll look like Quasi-bloody-modo! The bells, Esmeralda!”

  The sub lieutenant snapped, “Thank you Hutton! This is not a music hall you know!”

  There seemed to be no room at all to move. We reached a curtain which the sub lieutenant drew back. “This is the officers’ mess. You can use this while we head east.” He must have seen our faces. “I know it is a bit cramped, still you won’t be here for long. The captain will pop along and see you when we get under way.”

  We put our Bergens on the tiny table and squeezed around it. I was aware of the highly unpleasant smell of fuel, battery acid and stale cabbage. The smell made me want to vomit and we were not even under way. The Lieutenant cocked his head to one side, “Cosy!”

  We heard a voice from the tannoy, “All hands to stations! Prepare to leave harbour.”

  “Bloody hell sir, they don’t hang about do they?”

  “No Poulson; they do not. I suspect they
are in a hurry.”

  I could see the nervousness on all their faces. “Sir, why don’t we go over the maps. You never know. We might become separated.”

  “Good idea Harsker.” Although the red light made it hard we soon became accustomed to it. “We land here on the southern tip of the island. This little peninsula is called Icart. There are no houses nearby. There is a small hamlet called La Villette here.” He pointed to some houses about a mile from the beach but there are thick woods so we have cover. The house is here, close to the edge of the woods they call Les Nicolles. The house stands by itself in its own grounds. It is the only one. It belonged to some lord or other who left when the war began. It has a lodge and extensive grounds.” He pointed to a spot just half a mile from the beach. “There is an old tower here. It is medieval but we can use it for shelter.”

  Ken nodded, “Looks fairly straightforward sir.”

  “It would be Curtis if it wasn’t for this.” He pointed to a place just five hundred yards from the target. “This is the German airfield. It used to be the island’s main airport. There will be guards and aeroplanes. It is another reason why they have used this house. It is secluded but there is help close by. If we have to use guns then German soldiers will be there so fast it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  “When will the sub be back for us?”

  “That is what I want to check with the captain.”

  We became engrossed by the maps as we all memorised them. We would not have the luxury of time when on the island. If danger came the maps would need to be in our heads. One thing was clear; we had to head south. West took us to the airport and east to the capital, St Peter Port.

  An hour after we had left the harbour the captain, Lieutenant Archibald Conklin, came to see us. He too was young. “Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you chaps. Busy getting the old tin can out to sea eh.”

  “Sir, how deep are we?”

  The Lieutenant laughed at Polly’s question. “We are still on the surface. We travel faster that way. It is getting dark and we have a destroyer as an escort. By the time he leaves us it should be dark and we will trim to keep our profile as small as possible. I hope to get to within five miles of our destination on the surface. We will then go under and approach the beach underwater. My chaps will give you a taxi ride ashore and then we will pop off and hide.”