Behind Enemy Lines

by Hosker, Griff

  “Right lads, you heard the Major.” As I picked up a stave I found myself intrigued. What was the Major planning?

  “Sergeant Harsker, you and your section are the German guards. Feel free to use your staves on anyone you see. If you are hit by a stave it counts as a bullet! You are dead!”

  Ken and the others grinned. This was like the games of cowboys and Indians we had all played as kids. We were the cowboys and the rest were the Indians. While the rest of the Troop disappeared I said, “Right lads, in pairs. Ken you take the west, Polly, the east, Harry the south and I will take the north. Scouse, you are with me. Remember they know we saw the first attack. This one will be different.”

  Fletcher had a grin on his face. I shook my head. “Don’t get cocky! They will use all the tricks we know to get through to the targets. Stand with your back to something. Watch for distractions.”

  To be fair to the rest of the sections it was not a realistic test. It was daylight and we knew they were coming. Even so they did their best. The staves meant we could not strike at distance. There was plenty of cover for them apart from the last thirty yards. That was where we had to watch. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye to the right. I said quietly, “Someone coming from the right. Don’t turn. Watch to your left. They may try from two directions at once.”

  I did not envy those who were attacking us. They had to reach us before we could swing our staves. Rather than turning to my right I swivelled my eyes. I saw the comforter in the bushes just ten yards away. I knew what they would try. There would be a distraction to my front and then whoever it was to my right would rush me. Sure enough I heard noise from my front; it was the sound of a foot on rocks. I was swinging my stave even before I turned. It smacked into the shoulder of Private Ryan. I turned to my front and was just in time to poke Horace Maguire in the chest. He grinned as he stopped, “You have eyes in the back of your head!”

  There was a yelp from my left as Scouse Fletcher brought his stave around to hit Corporal Price.

  “Don’t get too confident Fletcher. There are another seven out there.”

  However that was, largely, the end of the attack. Bereft of their two leaders the rest of the section tried a brave charge. They were easily sent packing by just the two of us. The Major blew his whistle and I turned. The others had taken George and Reg but we had inflicted more casualties. We gathered around to discuss the attack and to learn from it.

  “Now we learned a great deal from that. Sergeant Maguire’s section; you went to pieces when you lost your sergeant and corporal. Rank means nothing in the commandos. Remember that.”

  Private Golightly said, “But sir, it was daylight. We stood no chance.”

  “Sergeant Barker’s section managed to incapacitate two of the guards. It is harder but we are all about finding solutions to impossible problems.”

  “And the other point is that if we had been Germans with real guns and not staves then when Private Ryan was fired upon the alarm would have been given. We all need ways to kill silently at distance.”

  Ken said, “Sarge, I have an idea.” He took out his toggle rope and started to make the knot at each end larger. He stood ten yards from the winding gear and threw it. The rope whirled and wrapped itself around one of the metal struts.

  Everyone applauded. Lieutenant Marsden became excited. “It is like a bola. The South American Indians used them. If we had wooden balls we could make them. They are a silent way of incapacitating a man."

  And so another weapons was created. We all made our own bola and practised with them. Some became more proficient than others but it gave us a silent edge.

  We trooped back to camp in high spirits. Or, at least most of us were in high spirits. Poor Jack Johnson was on a liquid diet and it did not sit well with him. However, when we heard that Reg Dean was on the mend the morale of the whole Troop improved. I know not why but we had more focus to our training. It was almost as though we were trying to be the best for the Troop Sergeant Major.

  Two weeks after the attack I was summoned to the office by the Major. “Two things. Harsker, you have been exonerated of any blame and Captain Grenville has left the Troop.”

  “Thank you, sir. I was worried.”

  “Well I can tell you now that Captain Grenville made a complaint about you. He said you put his life in danger. He wanted you reduced to the ranks.” I remembered Bill Leslie. Captain Grenville was a vindictive man. “Thank God that Lord Lovat was on the board. He dismissed it out of hand. Now we can get back to what we do best.”

  “Will there be any more missions before Christmas, sir?”

  “Hard to say. I know some of the other Troops have got their feet wet. It may well be our turn soon. The thing of it is that there are some in London who are keen to start a second front. They see us as an assault force.”

  “But we aren’t sir! We are like a scalpel. We make sharp incisive attacks and get out before anyone knows. It would be a waste of all our training.”

  "I agree with you but now that Italy is wavering there are talks about an attack in Italy.”

  “But what about North Africa? The last I read Rommel was almost in Alexandria.”

  “I know. All I am saying is that we need to be ready to go into action at a moment’s notice.”

  By the time November had been and gone we had, effectively, demolished the whole of the mine complex. The scrap metal was taken off to be made into Matildas and the stones and bricks were used to fill up some of the mines. We were ready for action. Major Foster was a great student of human nature. The whole Troop was given two weeks leave. It would not take us up to Christmas but all of us would enjoy the celebration no matter when it was. When we returned on December the twelfth Jack and Reg would be back with us and we would have a full complement once more.

  Chapter 9

  Mum was delighted that I was coming home for Dad was also due back. When I telephoned the house to tell her she almost wept for joy. “The whole family together! I have had my Christmas present already!”

  As I headed north on the train I saw the effects of twenty six months of war. There were many burned out buildings and vast swathes of towns had been levelled first by German bombers and then by civil defence workers as they cleared dangerous buildings. Every house we passed had tape on the windows and every person had the haunted and thin look of someone who has suffered each and every day. The people on the train, too, appeared depressed and downhearted. Bombing and rationing were not good bedfellows. The war was becoming a battle of wills between the civilians of Britain and Germany. Who was tougher?

  Dad was waiting for me at the station. I had no idea how he knew which train I would be on. I had not planned my route, I had taken the first train for each leg.

  He embraced me, “Welcome home, son!” The hug was held longer than we did in the days before the war. Each time you said goodbye you thought it might be the last and each time you said hello you were grateful that you were both still alive. We threw my Bergen in the boot and I clambered into the car. As we roared off down the country lane he asked, “How are your section?” He knew them from the rescue.

  “Oh they are fine. They are champing at the bit to be off again. Training and preparation are not their strong suits.”

  “Nor, I suspect, yours.”

  “I have just travelled all the way from Cornwall, Dad and it seems to me that the people are in danger of losing the will to fight.”

  “Don’t underestimate the British spirit, son. I spend most of my time in London now and they are having it tougher than anyone. The Blitz would have beaten down most nations already but they are standing up to the enemy and defying him. But I think your underlying message is right, we need to beat them before they beat us.”

  The house was in the distance, “Well I am doing my bit!”

  “I know old son but no talk of war while you are on leave eh? Your poor Mum and Mary worry about us all the time. Keep it light and keep it jolly. I know you can do that
.”

  “Of course. To be honest it will be a relief not to talk about it.”

  As soon as the car pulled through the gates mum and Mary ran out; Mum was crying. I know they were tears of joy but they always seemed so incongruous. After she had hugged me and almost stopped me breathing she held me at arm’s length. “The Military Medal! Well done you! My son, the war hero!”

  I shook my head, “I was just lucky that was all.”

  She laughed, “Sounds just like your Dad talking. He was as modest too. Come on in and get out of the cold.”

  Mrs Bailey’s bed and breakfast was a lovely house but it was not a home; it was not my home and the minute I stepped through the door I knew that was where I was. I came home so rarely that it was an absolute treat. I knew that my family was lucky. The house in the countryside meant it was unlikely to be bombed and with a huge garden mum and Mary could grow more vegetables than most people. Mum had written that they also had chickens and I heard them clucking outside.

  We had always brought back wine from our holiday home in France and Dad had a good selection. He brought up two decent, dusty clarets from the cellar for our dinner. We had a pheasant stew; meat was in short supply but a couple of young farmers were sweet on Mary and there was always plenty of game. It was a delightful diversion from the dangers of the war. All thoughts of the submarine and Waller’s attempted murders faded. Dad and I just listened to Mum's tales of the village and country life. It was as far removed from our own world as it was possible. For that reason it was the best thing we could hear. It was the reason we were fighting the war; to preserve our way of life.

  When I woke, the next morning, I felt the effects of the wine, port and brandy we had consumed. I thought I would not need to eat for a week but Mum’s chickens meant fresh eggs for breakfast and they helped to calm my stomach.

  “Tell you what, son, what say we take a couple of guns and see what we can get from the woods for our larder?”

  Mum seemed happy. “And I can get your uniform washed and cleaned.” I felt half naked in my civilian clothes but I also felt like a different person.

  “Great idea.”

  We were both good shots but even if we failed to hit anything it would not matter. I knew why Dad had suggested this; he wanted to chat. We said little until we reached the woods. “Fred Lythe reckoned there were some pheasants over by Badger’s Brook.”

  “Fine. Let’s try there.”

  We were both good stalkers and we settled down close to the bubbling brook which ran through the wood. We were patient and after an hour were rewarded by two plump pheasant, a male and female. They began grazing. We were up wind of them and they were just forty yards away. We knew without speaking which each of us would take. Dad would go for the male on his side. I would take the female on mine We were using small bore rifles. A shotgun made too much mess. I took a bead on the head. I followed her movements and got into her rhythm. I squeezed gently. Almost in the same instant Dad fired. They both fell dead.

  “Good shot!” We went to retrieve our birds. They were both plump. The animals did not know there was a war on.

  While I tied their heads together and hung them over a branch Dad got his pipe going. I was always tempted to take up the pipe. What stopped me was the fact that I knew it was addictive. If I didn’t start, I would never have to give up.

  “So what’s been going on?”

  Dad was the only person in whom I could totally confide. His security clearance was the highest that there was. And so I told him of the two raids in the Channel Islands and my experience in the sub.

  “Thank the lord I have never had to go down in one of those things. I like the open air and open sky.”

  I nodded, “They are tough, the lads who man them, and they rarely even manage to sink any ships. They have all the danger and none of the rewards.”

  “You think what you do is rewarding?”

  “When we rescued the resistance leader I did. And destroying those gun emplacements will save lives. Yes it is rewarding.”

  My tone might have seemed aggressive for he smiled and held up his hands. “You’ll get no argument from me. If you and your section hadn’t rescued me I would now be a guest of the Gestapo.”

  I nodded and then told him about Captain Grenville and Waller.

  He came over to me and put his arm around my shoulders. “That must have been hard; shooting one of your own men.”

  I nodded, “It was shooting someone in the same uniform and Jack had thought he could save him. Even as I pulled the trigger I wondered if we had done enough.”

  “From what you told me, you had. We have no time in this was to molly coddle men. Waller was a casualty of war. If there hadn’t been a war you can bet your life that he would have been in prison. His sort always ends up there.” He tapped out his pipe, “That is where these woolly minded liberals go wrong. There are some people who can’t be helped. And as your Troop Sergeant Major and Sergeant found out, innocent people can get hurt by them.” He stood, “Come on, what say we call in the Golden Sun for a couple of pints before dinner?”

  “Excellent.”

  And that was the end of our war talk. By common agreement we talked of anything but the war. It was easier than we thought. Sadly the leave flew by far too quickly. Dad and I went to the pub a couple of times and we had a fine Christmas dinner. We spent nights playing card and board games and listening to the radio. The four of us took long walks when the weather was clement. It was as though the war didn't exist. Then Dad was recalled to London and it seemed to be a reminder of how brief our time together would be. We all found it hard to say goodbye to him. London was now almost as dangerous as the front line. When the time came for me to return to Falmouth mum and Mary were on the edge of tears. It had been like a countdown. As children we had had a countdown to Christmas: ‘how many sleeps?’ Now we had that for the end of my leave. I remembered Dad’s words and I tried to be as jolly as possible, even though I didn’t feel like it.

  The war re-entered our lives when we heard on the radio that Pearl Harbour in Hawaii had been bombed and the Americans were in the war. If Dad had been there I could have discussed its implications. He had told me what a difference that had made in the Great War. Mum and Mary just saw it as another example of man being cruel to man. This was now, truly a world war, Japan and Hawaii were on the other side of the world. I had thought North Africa was a long way away. This was something different altogether.

  Mum drove me back to the station. The length of the journey meant I had to be at the station by seven. It seemed an ungodly hour to be saying goodbye.

  Mary hugged me and burst into tears, “Take care big brother!”

  As mum embraced me she whispered in my ear, “I love you, my big brave boy, but please don’t be the hero all the time. I want to be a grandmother and see your children grow up. One medal is enough. Don’t try for more.”

  I felt her tears running down my cheek, “I don’t try, mum. I just do my duty.”

  She shook her head as the trained hissed in. “A typical Harsker! Always doing your duty. Just like your father. Well keep your head down at least.”

  “I will mum, I promise.”

  As I waved goodbye from the train I realised that was a promise I could not keep. I was a sergeant in the commandos. I could not take it easy. I settled down in the corner of the compartment and watched England roll by. Mum’s words had set me to thinking. I was just twenty but I had not even thought about a family. I never even got to meet any girls. If I was to be honest with myself I was actually a little afraid of meeting girls. I had done it so rarely. Much as I wished to heed mum’s words I knew that I would not be able to keep that promise. If there was danger then I would be in it. If you were hesitant, you might die. It was safer to be fearless; fear brought its own dangers.

  After I had dropped my bags off at Mrs Bailey’s I went to the local we used. I knew that I was the first one back for Mrs Bailey told me so. We were not due back until t
he following day anyway but I had been lucky with the trains and had no delays. I was delighted to see Troop Sergeant Major Dean and Sergeant Jack Johnson when I walked into the lounge bar. Both looked thin and pale but they grinned when they saw me. I bought three pints and joined them.

  “Good to see you both up and about. How is the jaw, Jack?”

  “Getting there.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Tom. He is in agony and he drinks more than he eats.”

  “I deserve it. It is my penance for being such a soft bugger. You were all right about Waller but I had to be pig headed!”

  Reg gave him a stern look, “Water under the bridge. The subject is closed! Understood!”

  “Yes Sarn’t Major.”

  “Are you able to move well, Sergeant Major? After the knifing, I mean.”

  “Aye Tom. I am fine and that is definitely an end to it. And tell the others no questions!” I nodded, “Did you have a good leave?”

  “Yes, I went hunting with my Dad and we talked. It was good.”

  “But hard to leave the bosom of your family and come back here eh?”

  “You had better believe it. Is anyone else back?”

  “Just the Major and then he went off again; a message from London.”

  “Seems a little harsh at Christmas; surely they can’t have anything planned for us.”

  “The war won’t stop for Christmas. Still it might just be for a briefing or to get a new officer. We are short of one.” He looked at me. “The Major said he wanted you to go to Officer Training.”

  “He did but I think I am better employed here.”

  “You are a bit dim for someone so bright!” I did not point out the contradiction in his words. I knew what he meant. “Everyone in the Troop know you would make a superb officer. It would only be for three months.”

  I shook my head. “I want to be an officer but I don’t want to waste my time at Officer Training Course. Remember I was there before I joined up. I have learned more about being an officer since I joined the commandos. They could teach me nothing.”