by Griff Hosker
"Beaumont, where is the launch?"
"Thirty yards offshore, sir. She is holding off."
"As soon as Fletcher arrives get into the water."
A flash of light was followed by an explosion thirty yards to my right as a grenade was thrown. Shrapnel whistled past my head.
"Just get into the water both of you! I will wait for Fletcher."
They both jumped in when Fletcher fell the last eight feet, landing awkwardly. I ran to him. His left arm was bloody. He had been hit by flying shrapnel.
"Twisted me ankle too sir!"
I holstered my gun and put my arm under him. "Come on! The water is lovely!" I half carried him to the water and jumped in with him. There was a series of explosions as more grenades were thrown from the cliff top. Where we had stood before was now a killing zone. I put my left arm under his chin and using my right arm sculled backwards. I had to hope that the crew of the launch had their wits about them. It was so black and the water so rough and choppy that they might not see us. The air was thick now with bullets as more Germans joined those who were firing at us. The launch's' Lewis guns replied.
I heard a voice above me. "Here, sir! To your left!"
I changed direction and a few kicks later my head banged into the wooden hull of the launch. Fletcher raised his right hand as I kept him afloat. Poulson and Beaumont pulled him up. My bag was now sodden and threatened to pull me under. Then arms reached down and began to haul me aboard. I was only halfway up when the launch spun and headed out of the deadly bullet filled water. I was rolled unceremoniously onto my back.
"Cutting it fine again, sir!" Beaumont was grinning.
I nodded. "Fletcher is wounded!"
"I know, sir. He is with the Sick Bay Attendant. Sergeant Poulson is there too. His face is a mess."
I rolled onto my knees noticing the two dead Lewis gun crew. The launch's crew had also paid a price.
Once in the mess I felt a little safer. The wooden walls would not keep out bullets but this way I would not feel as though they were aiming at me personally. I shrugged off my Bergen to check my men. Poulson had had his cheekbone laid open by flying rock. He grinned "Hope the ladies like a scar sir. The Sick Bay Attendant reckons it'll be a pearler!"
The Sick Bay Attendant said, "I will keep the stitches small but it will have to wait until I have looked at your oppo."
I helped him take off Scouse's battledress. Like Poulson the wound was deep. His arm had saved his life. Had the shrapnel hit his chest who knows the damage which could have been caused.
"Not as bad as I thought. You can leave them with me now sir." He cocked an ear. "I reckon the shooting has stopped now."
I took off my own sodden battledress and headed back on deck. The young lieutenant and his coxswain were at the bridge. "Glad you made it sir. Whoever came up with that as an extraction point wants his head looking at!"
"I think they chose somewhere without mines either on the beach or in the sea."
"They have them in the sea sir. We will pass the minefield in about a mile. It wasn't there last month. The Germans are getting sneaky."
"I think the landings in Italy have put the wind up Jerry. Thanks for coming for us."
He looked surprised. "Orders sir."
"Orders didn't tell you to come as close to the rocks as you did." I pointed to the dead gun crew. "And your men have paid a price too. Just so you know me and my lads don't take it for granted."
I stayed on the bridge to one side as we negotiated the minefield. They were intended to deter larger ships and with four lookouts watching we made good speed as we passed through. The rain began not long after we left the field. I went below deck.
A Leading Seaman popped his head in the mess. "Cocoa sir?"
"That will be perfect."
Fletcher and Beaumont were both asleep. Poulson had an enormous dressing on the side of his face. He tried to smile but winced when he did so. "Not a pretty picture a sir? We nearly got away with it."
I nodded, "Perfect right until the end. One positive is that the locals won't suffer. They will know now who did it. They will know it was the Commandos"
"Did we make a difference? I mean they can repair the bridge before we invade. They will probably make it stronger too."
I could not tell my sergeant that was the plan. His disappointment showed me that the strategy might actually work.
"You should know by now that we do little bits. We can't see all the other parts. We have to trust in the planners in Whitehall."
"I suppose so, sir. The Sick Bay Attendant said I ought to get my head down." He laughed, "I will have to choose which side very carefully eh sir?"
I had the mess to myself as I sipped the piping hot cocoa. The crew of the launch were all on duty for we would have the danger of dawn soon and the daylight crossing of a very dangerous English Channel. In the end it was the weather which came to our raid. Low cloud made it hard for the German aircraft to see us and we docked in Falmouth after dark. We had made it; we had survived.
Chapter 3
Beaumont was fit and ready for work but the other two were sent, reluctantly, to hospital. Gordy had made sure that the rest of the section were at their peak. I had chosen him as my number two as he was reliable and knew explosives. Emerson's skills with motors might come in handy too. As for John Hewitt, I had chosen him because he was calm under pressure and could see to our first aid. The two men in the hospital told me that I needed that skill.
I reported to Major Rose and Sergeant Major Dean made a transcript of my words. I did not have time to go up to London and then return. Time was of the essence. Major Rose had only been on one raid and that was the huge one to the Lofoten Islands with Lord Lovat. I think the thought of being behind the lines with just two or three others worried him. "You were lucky with the Kubelwagen. That could have gone the wrong way."
"I know sir that is why Colonel Fleming is so wrong. He believes you can plan these missions and that they will work to a timetable. If the Lieutenant had not brought his launch dangerously close to the rocks then Fletcher and I might have drowned. In Colonel Fleming's world men only die or return. They don't get wounded. You have to think on your feet. Luckily my lads can do that."
Major Rose nodded, "This one should be a bit easier. You don't have huge cliffs to negotiate and the target is marginally closer to the coast."
"With respect sir that adds to the problems. I know we weren't the only raid. I don't need to know where the others were but I can guess. Jerry will increase his vigilance. The closer we are to the coast the fewer avenues of escape are open to us."
"Oh I see. And there are another two after this."
Sergeant Major Dean coughed, "That depends on the weather sir. A boat can land men in any weather, just about, but if Captain Harsker is dropping from a Dakota then the weather has to be right. It seems to me this is the wrong season for dropping from the skies. Just my opinion, sir."
"And welcome too. Anyway when you get back you should have some company. Captain Marsden and Sergeant Curtis will be here with their new recruits."
"Oh good. Will his whole section be new then sir?"
"No, about half will be new the rest are the remnants of his old section."
Captain Marsden had commanded me when he had been a lieutenant. He had been unlucky. Wounded at St. Nazaire he had missed the opportunity to go to Africa with us. Ken Curtis had been my Corporal and I had moved him to Captain Marsden's section so that he could gain promotion. He was a good NCO.
The second raid was delayed as three days atrocious weather over the channel made flying hazardous and parachuting suicidal. The four of us spent the three days in the hangar at the airfield playing pontoon and patience. We had camp beds placed beneath the Dakota's huge wings. Flight Sergeant Wilson ensured we ate well but the waiting played on nerves. Gordy Barker had not dropped from an aeroplane for some time. It showed. He chain-smoked. We finally got the all clear and we boarded the aircraft enthusiastically. W
e wanted to be away as soon as possible.
Our pilot appeared more relaxed the first mission. Flight Sergeant Wilson told me they had made two other drops since our first one. He gained confidence with each flight. He actually smiled when he was chatting to us. The delay in take off had enabled us to go through all the details with a fine tooth comb. I knew this target would be more heavily guarded. Our escape would also be harder. We were closer to the coast but aerial photographs showed that the defences had been improved since the raid was planned. The only good thing was that we would not have to lie up during the day. We were close enough to the coast so that we could destroy our target and still make the extraction point.
Our target was a busy rail junction with railway lines coming from the north, south and west. There were anti-aircraft guns nearby. They would have dogs patrolling. It would not be as easy as blowing up a railway bridge over a road. There were more mines out at sea. Our pick up, north of Boulogne, towards Wimereux would be more difficult. The cliffs this time were gentle almost like huge sand dunes. We would not have to abseil however there were more likely to be mines buried there. We could not see that sort of detail from the aerial photographs. We would be using a long rock shelf which jutted out into the sea to make our escape. That could not be mined but I remembered the danger that the ML had been in the last time. There were just too many unknowns. Major Rose's words still rang in my ears, "Be careful, Tom. Don't take too many risks. We shall need chaps like you in the real invasion."
I knew we did not approve of these diversions. I just hoped that they were useful. I wanted a purpose to the wounds and the deaths. The wounds to Fletcher and Poulson were healing but the two dead Lewis gunners would never see the end of the war. Perhaps Colonel Fleming had the right attitude. Think of the greater good and the bigger picture. Maybe I was holding the telescope the wrong way round. Certainly the increased German defences made it seem likely that these diversions were succeeding.
Although the storms had abated the wind was still stronger than we would have wished for a parachute jump at night. We left before dark and would be picked up the following morning. We would not have to lay up for the day. For that reason I left my Tommy gun with Poulson. I would rely on my Luger. The other worry was the actual drop zone. We were going to be landing close to the railway line. We chose a stretch of line where there were two tracks but few houses. The ground around would be open and we would have just a mile or so to walk back to the points and the signal box. We had two targets. Not only did they want the point disabling, they needed the signal box wrecking. Already hit in the early years of the war it had been rebuilt in concrete. It had withstood the RAF's many attempts to destroy it.
Barker and Emerson were in charge of demolition this time while Hewitt and I would stand guard. I saw Gordy's nerves as he drummed his fingers on the bench in the Dakota. Once his parachute actually opened he would be fine but it was these moments, in the dark, waiting which were the worst. The flak warned us that we were close to the target. Flight Sergeant Wilson tapped me on my shoulder. We were making a drop from a higher altitude to avoid the guns. It made life easier for pilots but the margin of error for us was much narrower.
I smiled, reassuringly, as I checked Gordy's parachute. His weak smile back was just for show. When we opened the door the rush of air brought in blasts of icy rain. Winter was already here. I realised that the rain might help although it would make for an uncomfortable drop and landing. The rush of wet, rain filled air was like a slap in the face. I forced myself to look down out of the door. I stepped out into nothing as Flight Sergeant Wilson tapped me on the shoulder. The rain limited visibility but the wet had made a well used railway lines stand out. I had to fight the wind. I tugged and pulled on the cords to control my flight. I hoped that the others were managing; I dared not risk looking up. I stared between my feet because I was approaching the ground rapidly. This was not open scrubland; there were railway lines; there were telegraph poles; there were more things to hurt us than the first raid. More by luck than anything else I managed to land along the railway line.
I quickly folded and stored my parachute in my Bergen and drew my pistol. I watched up and down the line; as I did so Corporal Hewitt came in to land. He was slightly off line and landed on the embankment to the right. Fred Emerson landed on the line itself. It was a good landing. Of Sergeant Barker there was no sign. I looked into the sky but I saw no chute.
When the others had joined me I signalled for them to follow me. I headed down the railway line. As the last to leave the aircraft it was likely Sergeant Barker had drifted further west. We had walked three hundred yards and there was still no sign of him. I began to worry. I heard a whistle. I look to the right to see that he had managed to get caught on a telegraph pole and line. He could not reach his knife to cut himself free, the cords were wrapped around him. I pointed to Gordy and then to Hewitt. My Corporal used Emerson's cupped hands to climb up the pole. Using his own knife he cut Gordy free. Disaster struck when the wind caught the parachute and sent it high into the night. It was a clear sign to the Germans that commandos or paratroopers were abroad. We could do nothing about that but I knew it would come back to haunt us.
Gordy landed heavily but he did not look to be injured. I waved the section down the line. The delay in finding him and rescuing him had cost us fifteen minutes. We ran down the line knowing that the rain, which came in blustery gusts, would keep German heads indoors. I had just touched the right hand rail with my foot when I felt the vibration. A train was coming.
"Train!" I hissed and pressed myself into the low embankment. Five minutes later the train thundered past, belching smoke and soot. It seemed to be quite a long train but I did not risk looking around to check. There was little to be gained. When it had gone we resumed our march. The embankment disappeared as I saw the line joining from the north-east. We were now close to the junction we had come so far to destroy. Even in the dark we could see how big the it was. Two hundred yards to our left I saw the snouts of a pair of anti-aircraft guns. I knew there were more to the north for I had seen them on the aerial photographs and they would be on our escape route out of the junction.
Our first target was a signal box. We did not know if it was manned by the French or the Germans. Either way it needed disabling. There were no lights to be seen within it. That was not a surprise. The Germans would not wish to show aircraft where it was. Gordy had the silenced Colt and he led the way up the stairs. John Hewitt remained on watch as Fred and I followed the Sergeant up the steps. He held the handle of the door with one hand and the gun with the other. He burst in. I heard a shout of surprise and the 'phut' of the silenced bullet.
I entered, my pistol at the ready. Gordy had shot the German sentry. I saw the German's gun in his hand. My sergeant would have had little choice. The old French railway worker stood with his hands up.
I signed for him to put his hands down and spoke to him in French. "We are British. We will not harm you."
"But the Germans will think I helped you!"
"Do not worry. We will tie you and gag you before we leave!" I turned to Emerson. "What can we do here?"
He pointed to a conduit which led outside. "I'm guessing this powers the signal box. We will have to blow it." That ruled out leaving the old man in the box.
"Right you set the charges here with fifteen minute fuses. Gordy you and Hewitt set the charges on the points. Twenty minute fuses."
"Right sir. Sorry about the landing."
"Couldn't be helped, Gordy." I turned to the railway worker. "You better come with us."
He pointed towards the line. "There is a shift cabin four hundred metres down the line. You could tie me up there." He grinned. "I do not wish to be blown up!"
He had seen the charges we were using. Emerson was already taking them from his Bergen. They were not large but they would disable the line for some time. "Good. Lead the way." As I reached the bottom I said, "Gordy take charge. I will meet you back here."
>
The old man led me to the cabin. It too was made of concrete. He would be safe inside. I used parachute cords to bind his hands and feet. I was about to leave when he said, "You had better hit me. Give me a lump, eh Englishman, who speaks French so well."
"Are you certain?"
"If this is the only wound I suffer in this war then I will wear it with pride." I nodded and struck him on the temple with the grip of my pistol. It broke the skin and bled a little. He smiled, "Good, now bring your army back soon, we have had enough of these Germans!"
"You are a brave man. We will return. That I promise you."
I shut the door and left the old Frenchman safe in the concrete cabin. By the time I reached the signal box Fred was looking worried. "We just have eight minutes left sir!"
"Then let's run." We headed across the spaghetti of tracks towards the gun emplacement. When we were two hundred yards from them I waved Barker and Hewitt to the right while Emerson and I went to the left. We crept closer to the sandbagged gun emplacement. We crawled around to the side furthest from the points and waited. We took out a grenade each and pulled the pin. I could hear the Germans talking. They were complaining about the air raids and the food. It was typical sentry talk.
The explosion lit up the sky. Without looking I knew that the signal box would have been lit up by the explosion. The Germans inside the sandbags shouted. We threw our grenades over the top. For grenades can do serious damage in a confined space. We dropped to the ground as the shrapnel from the four Mills bombs scythed through the gun crew. Air raid sirens began to wail as I hissed, "Let's move!"