by Griff Hosker
Sword Beach
Book 6 in the
Combined Operations Series
By
Griff Hosker
Published by Sword Books Ltd twenty16
Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition
The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Cover by Design for Writers
Dedicated to my little sister, Barb, and in memory of my dad who served in Combined Operations from 1941-1945
Prologue
October 1943
This was my first leave in a long time. I could not remember the last one. The journey north from Southampton had given me time to reflect on the war in Sicily and Italy. We had lost men in the landings, especially the crew of our captured E-boat, 'Lucky Lady'. I doubted that I would see her crew any time soon and that was sad. The war meant that goodbyes were a luxury. I was just grateful that I had kept my section together and largely intact. I knew that had been more luck than anything else. Machine gun fire was indiscriminate; it killed the brave as well as those who hid in the sand.
The Company Sergeant Major Dean had intimated, when he picked us up from the Sunderland aircraft, that there was another operation in the offing. Lieutenant Colonel Dawson, the commanding officer of Number 4 Commando, had insisted that my section be given leave. That was always ominous sign. Leave was a perk doled out when danger was imminent. I would use the ten days I had been given wisely. I would appreciate this land for which I fought. It might be autumn but I would walk the lanes and enjoy the flurry of leaves whirling around. I would go to the pub and listen to the Old Contemptibles as they complained about the way the young generation were fighting this war. Most of all I would spend time with Mum. Mum was the rock in our home. While Dad had been here there and everywhere it was Mum who had been our constant companion while growing up. She was doing the same still. Mary was now a ferry pilot and doing her bit for the war. While Dad and I fought our wars Mum looked after the home and waited for us to return. She was delighted to see me as Dad was still in the Mediterranean. It seemed they couldn't win the war in the air without him. It left Mum at home, on her own worrying about all of us. The hug she gave me standing in the hallway with an October gale slamming doors shut, was held longer than ever. I felt her pressing her face into my chest.
"I am so glad you are safe!" When she stepped back to look me over I saw the hint of a tear in her eye. She smiled and shook her head. "I must be getting soft in my old age."
"You are not old, Mum."
She shook her head, "I feel old. Now come on in. Leave your bag there. We'll go and have a drink to celebrate." She took my arm to lead me to the lounge and then stopped, suddenly, "How long?"
We both knew what she meant. I smiled, "They have given me ten days!"
"That is good but we both know that you will be back in the thick of it soon enough." As she plonked me in Dad's armchair she suddenly noticed my new rank. "Captain Harsker now! Well done, you!"
I nodded, "Not bad for a ranker!"
As she handed me my whisky she admonished me, "You were down for Officer Training and you chose that route."
"I know. I am just saying I never expected to be promoted."
"You are just like your dad. He was always too modest. The pair of you are like peas in a pod. So, where have you been?"
"You know I can't tell you the details, Mum."
"I don't need the details. You are brown as a berry so I am guessing somewhere hot."
I sighed. Mum would have made great inquisitor! "North Africa, Sicily and Italy, and that is all I can tell you." In truth I was not telling her anything that the she couldn't learn from the newspapers.
"And now you are home. If you give me your ration book we will nip to the village and get the shelves filled. There isn't much in the pantry at the moment. Still we have the veg from the garden and Old Jack brought me a couple of bunnies yesterday. We will have them for dinner."
The thought of one of Mum's homemade rabbit stews with vegetables from the garden made me feel like I was home. I helped her prepare the vegetables and we chatted in the kitchen. I enjoyed her tales of village life and the garden. She pointed to birds as though they were old friends and addressed them by name. That was Mum.
When we came to eat she opened one of the precious bottles of wine we had left from before the war. Not having had a good drink for a while meant that Mum had to help me to bed. I was transported back twenty odd years. It felt good.
The leave flew by. It always did. Mum and I went for long walks down leaf filled country lanes. I helped her to tidy the garden. We sorted out things from my room; with a war on others could make good use of what we might have put in the dustbin before. I read newspapers and their propaganda. If you believed all that you read it was a wonder we were not in Berlin already. Still it gave me the view of the war from a civilian's perspective. One day we even travelled up to town to look in the shops. We enjoyed fish and chips. It was one of the few things not rationed and as such a treat to be enjoyed. As we stood in the queue a couple of teenage girls giggled and gossiped. Mum smiled. As we walked down the cold streets, steam rising from our vinegar soaked chips. she said, "Those two girls were talking about you."
"Mum! They were not!"
"Tom, you and your dad know war and fighting but you have not the first idea about women. How I got your father to marry me I will never know! He just couldn't take a hint! You are a good looking young man; they found you handsome. You have a smartly cut uniform. If you had a moustache you could pass for Errol Flynn or David Niven."
"Now you are being ridiculous!"
She sighed, "I just hope one comes along soon!"
"One what?"
"A girl of course! Someone to grab you by the scruff of the neck and sort you out. I have done all that I can!"
Two days before I was due back Mum had a letter from Dad. I went for a walk in the garden to allow her some privacy while she read it but she came hurtling out after me. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what, Mum?"
"That you had been put up for the Victoria Cross!"
"It slipped my mind and besides I might not get it."
She hugged me and said, thickly, in my ear, "I am so proud of you and yet so annoyed at the same time." She stepped back with tears coursing down her cheeks. "Proud because you are a hero and annoyed because being a hero means you might get killed. I don't want to lose you, Tom. I want to bounce your babies on my knee and help your wife to make cakes!"
"But I haven't even got a girlfriend!"
"Exactly! You were too serious as a boy. Too concerned with studying. If we had known the war was coming then we might have encouraged you to have a girlfriend or something. Remember your aunt. She had the love of her life taken from her. You have not even met a girl yet. Be less of a hero, please, for me! Come out of this madness alive. When this is over no one will remember what you did in Italy or Sicily or wherever it was. Survive!"
Part 1
Pas de Calais
Chapter 1
"Morning, Sir! Good to see you back. I'll have your bags taken down to the digs for you."
&nbs
p; "Thanks Sergeant Major Dean. Is anyone else back yet?"
"No Sir. It is just the skeleton staff: cooks, Quartermasters, armourers. The Brigade won't be back until November. It is just your section. You have the run of the camp to yourselves."
"Who is in command here now then?" The Colonel would be with the Brigade.
"The adjutant is Major Rose. He isn't here yet." He went over to the door. "Do you want a cuppa, sir?"
"That will be perfect, Reg!"
"Larkin, cup of tea for the captain. Drop of milk and no sugar!"
I sat in the spare seat. "How is Mrs Bailey, sorry, Mrs Dean, Reg?"
He beamed, "Happier now that I made an honest woman of her. She has missed you and the lads. She will be like a mother hen again now that you are all back."
I noticed a map of the Channel pinned to the wall. Pointing to it I said, "Invasion?"
He shrugged, "The papers are full of it and every man and his dog in the pub has an opinion. We have heard nowt sir but the Major has to go to London once a week for a briefing. He put a map in here and one in his office. I daresay he will tell you when he arrives."
Private Larkin came in with the tea. Reg growled, "And where is mine?"
"Sorry Sarn't Major, you didn't say and... I'll get one now."
The young private fled and Reg shook his head. "God help us when sprogs like that have to go against Jerry!"
I laughed, "We were all like that once, Reg. He'll do all right. The bad apples are few and far between. They soon realise that the Commandos isn't somewhere you can hide." I sipped the hot tea which was almost black. It was reassuringly strong. Standing I went to the map and ran my finger down the coast line. "Hitler has built a strong line of defences here. It isn't the same place we raided in forty one."
"You are right there sir." Larkin came back and put the tea down. Reg sipped it. "What was it like in Sicily and Italy?"
"Not as bad as it will be here." I tapped France. "The Italians gave up soon enough and that caught Jerry with his pants down. France is occupied and that famous Atlantic Wall is made of concrete. The hardest thing we had to face in Italy was wire and a few mines."
The door behind me opened and Major Rose stood there. He was a short, neat man and at least ten years older than I was. "Thought I heard voices." He held out his hand, "You must be Captain Harsker. Heard a lot about you." He shook my hand, " Harry Rose, adjutant for my sins." He tapped his right leg. "No more active duty for me; a bad landing. Hate parachutes! Still at least I am still part of this war. Come next door. Tom isn't it?" I nodded, "A cup of tea for me eh Sergeant Major."
"Yes sir."
He took me through to his office. I carried my tea with me. As he sat down he took a pipe from a rack and began to clean it out with a penknife. "Your name is well known in Whitehall you know. Winnie himself mentioned you in one meeting. Said you were the sort of chap we needed. High praise indeed and now I hear you are in for a Victoria Cross. Well done old chap, well done!" Larkin brought the Major's tea. "Thanks Larkin." He began to fill his pipe. "Can't start the day without a pipe full of Baby's Bottom and a cup of the Sergeant Major's tea." He proffered the pouch of tobacco.
"No thank you sir, I don't. But I know the tobacco. Made by Dunhill isn't it? My granddad liked it."
"A very restful habit. Cigarette then?"
"No sir, I don't have that habit either."
"Dear me. You aren't a monk are you? You do drink."
Laughing I said, "Yes sir. I enjoy a good red wine and whisky too."
"Thank the lord for that I was beginning to worry. Then tell me how do you control your nerves if you don't smoke?"
"I'm not sure I suffer from nerves, sir. I don't see the point in worrying. If you have a problem you deal with it. Worrying never gets you anywhere. When they send my section in we know that there will be problems. We just deal with them."
He had his pipe going and he leaned back in his seat. "I think I understand you a little better now. It is no wonder you get to go behind the lines so often. Between the two of us I think the brass have a little trip behind German lines planned soon."
"Pas de Calais sir?"
His mouth dropped opened, "How in God's name did you know that?" I gave him what I thought of as my enigmatic smile. "It is hush, hush. Even I was only told two days ago and I haven't told a soul."
"Call it an educated guess. Before we were sent to Italy and Africa it was where we did most of our work. It is the closest part of the Atlantic Wall to England."
"Good guess. Yes, well, that's all I know but as soon as your chaps arrive you and I will pop up to London for a briefing. I would make the most of these little jaunts, if you enjoy them. I think that the powers that be would like to use Commandos as regular soldiers now. An elite unit but used in larger numbers."
"Yes sir, we saw that in Sicily and Italy. They did a damned fine job."
He looked relieved at my comments. "Good, good. And the other new units will use Bren Guns and Lee Enfields."
I said nothing for I remembered Dad breaking the rules in the Great War by using weapons he found useful. I would still use my Luger, Colt and Thompson even if I was issued with standard weapons. I knew that using weapons we were familiar with could only increase our efficiency.
He looked up from his pipe, "Is that to your liking, Tom?"
"If that is what we are issued then we will use them. I think the Colt and the Thompsons were damned fine weapons and they never let me down. The rate of fire came in very handy more than once. The Lee Enfield is a good weapon but it has a slow rate of fire."
"But we can't issue them to every Commando."
"How about captured Werke Maschinenpistole? They are just as good as the Thompson."
"German weapons! Have you gone mad?"
"They don't jam and they have a good rate of fire. I would have one in a flash."
"You are a rum bugger! I look forward to watching you in action. Anyway the issue of new weapons is some time off. Get yourself sorted and when your men arrive set up a training programme and we will pop up to London."
I sought out Daddy Grant. He was the Quartermaster and had been my sergeant when I had been corporal. "Daddy, what do you think about the new weapons?"
He smiled, "I knew you would be in sir. Don't worry. I have stashed away some gear for you and the lads. It is just that we can't issue it in the open. I will see your sergeants when they land. The rest of the Brigade are coming back soon. I would make sure you have what you need before then."
"Thanks I will see the chaps as soon as they arrive."
He handed me one of the assault vests I had seen in Sicily. "You might as well have this one now sir. They have been used for some time to replace the webbing. A bit easier to use I am told. You can hang grenades from it easier and it affords a bit more protection." He pointed to my Captain's pips. "Save your battle dress being damaged too much. Congratulations on the promotion sir. Well deserved."
"Thanks Daddy."
I had paperwork to do before the section were due back from leave. When that was over I sketched out a training programme. As I had expected Sergeant Poulson and Sergeant Barker arrived back by noon and I explained to the them what we would need to do to keep hold of our acquired weapons and equipment. They were both old hands. "I'll have a word with Reg Dean. There must be somewhere safe we could keep it at Mrs. Bailey's."
"I am not certain, Gordy. He wouldn't want her in any danger."
"She won't be. I was thinking of something secure in the bottom of the garden." He shrugged, "You know the lads. They will keep their ammo in their bedrooms at the digs sir."
I nodded, "Just make sure the other sections don't know about this." I handed them the sheet of paper on which I had scribbled my training programme. "I will be off to London with Major Rose. When I return I will have a better idea of our next operation."
"It is getting on to winter sir. Do you think we will be doing much?"
"If the whole Brigade is coming back then
something big is in the air. Besides we appear to have turned the tide a bit. We have North Africa and Sicily now. Half of Italy is in our hands. I reckon that the second front the newspapers are banging on about might actually be closer than we think. I know the U-Boats are making life hard but on land and in the air we are winning. "
Sergeant Poulson said, "You are right there sir. There was nowt to be had in the shops. I felt awful. I mean we don't go short do we? Yet they have to scrimp and save. Make do and mend. When we need a new uniform we just get one. They don't. It doesn't seem right somehow."
"And it isn't. That's why I am happy for them to send us overseas anytime they like. If it brings the war to an end that bit closer then I am happy."
Sergeant Major Dean arranged for our travel warrants to London. I was now more accustomed with the journey from Falmouth to London. The Major was equally familiar. As soon as we boarded the London express he headed for the restaurant carriage. "Might as well have a drink eh, Tom?"
I was beginning to realise that Major Rose enjoyed a drink. The carriage was filled with uniforms. They were all taking advantage of the bar. Before the war this would have been packed with holidaymakers. Those days were a distant memory. Holidays by the seaside would have to wait until Europe was back in the hands of those who had a right to be there.
Despite the quantity of drink Major Rose consumed he appeared to be able to handle it. The only sign of the alcohol was a slight reddening of the cheeks. I made two drinks last all the way. We took a taxi to Whitehall. The meeting was in a non-descript, rather shabby building, tucked away from the main streets. The windows were covered with tape to stop bomb blast damage. Security was tight and the two military policemen examined our faces and passes carefully as we entered.
"If you gentlemen would wait in the lobby someone will be down to take you upstairs." They watched us like hawks while we waited.
It was a dingy lobby. The bulb that hung forlornly down was little better than a candle. The room had a musty damp smell.