‘Fascinating. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have brought it up, let alone gone on about her. Please –’
‘That isn’t at all why I rather boorishly changed the subject, only that while we’re here –’
‘I know. And I shouldn’t have raised the subject. Such an extraordinary coincidence, that’s all. In fact it’s not even that – have a run-in with a girl then happen to come across the guy she married? Anyway, please, forget it?’
Food for thought, all right. Not the slightly oblique coincidence – such things did occur, you didn’t have to marvel at them – but the light it threw on Ann … At which one might have guessed, but conceivably hadn’t wanted to? Food for further thought anyway when time allowed – and this Thursday morning it did not. What he’d intended doing was calling in on Abigail to break the Dog-day news to her before the eleven a. m. meeting, but in the event didn’t have time, having had quite a lot to see to in and around the boat. See her instead when Shrimp’s palaver finished, meanwhile hope it started on time and didn’t go on for ever. Thing was – or things were – that he’d spent last night in the base just for the look of things – having spent Monday and Tuesday nights with her, on both those mornings clocking in at Lazaretto slightly late for breakfast, and from yesterday, remembering Abbie warm as toast hugging him down to her on the rickety single bed and murmuring, ‘I’ll find myself branded a scarlet woman’, to which he’d replied – spur of the moment, not having given it more than a fleeting thought until that moment when it was simply there, the obvious solution – ‘Easy to fix that, my darling, just damn well get spliced!’
‘Oh – that settled, is it?’
‘Well – if I were to go down on bended knee?’ Kissing her again. ‘And look, now I’m a lieutenant-commander, with at least ten bob a month more than I had before –’
‘If we ever thought for a moment of doing anything so barmy – which I’m not thinking of and you aren’t either – I’d want to do it at home, wouldn’t you? In the presence for instance of the Old Man as you call him, brother Alan bless him, and little Chloe?’
‘And perhaps a clutch of yours?’
‘A clutch …’ Flat tone. He guessed having in mind the one she would not have at any such ceremony, the brother she’d adored and whose death had lit the fuse to all this, and whom now she barely mentioned. She’d begun again, ‘If we ever did contemplate any such thing –’
‘How come we’re talking about it, if not contemplating it?’
‘Talking’s just talk, Mike, not contemplation. Hadn’t you better run?’
And now, Thursday, with only one night left to them he wished he hadn’t given up this last one ‘for the look of things’ – having come to believe for some reason that they’d have until the weekend at least. Whereas – well, sailing tomorrow at dusk, the weekend proper starting with Dog minus 2, Saturday, when he’d be diving Ursa at about 0500. Please God, in calm or near-calm weather: you couldn’t count on that – yet – although the wind was down a bit and cooler, the overhead less heavy. Checking the time as he went down into the stone depths of Lascaris – it was one minute past eleven – and in the outer office finding Melhuish, Gerahty, Haigh and Flood, and Shrimp’s paymaster-midshipman greeting him with ‘Ah – sir – Vice-Admiral Malta wanted to see Major Ormrod, so –’
‘So we’re starting late. All right.’ A nod to the soldiers – Haigh’s easy grin, and the Fusilier’s wide, white face and light-coloured eyes, slightly mad look under the dark, curly thatch. Then, ‘Hello, Dan, Charles …’
‘What is this, Mike?’
Gerahty’s thick eyebrows hooping: ‘Three of us? These commando chaps more or less confirm it, but –’
‘They should know, Dan. How’s it going, Fergus?’
‘Something to have a date set, isn’t it. And the lads all here. Met Bill Flood, have you?’
‘Certainly have. Ah, starter’s orders …’
Shrimp, and Ormrod with him. ‘Sorry to have kept you waiting, gentlemen. We’ll try to make up for lost time now. Finding your way about all right, Flood?’ The midshipman was telling him as he led them through to the inner office, ‘There was a call from Squadron Leader Ferrand, sir –’
‘So he can’t make it. Doesn’t matter, I know what he was going to tell us. Now – Lieutenants Gerahty of Swordsman and Melhuish of Unsung – Major Ormrod, Captains Haigh and Flood. Charles, you’ll have Flood and his team with you, targeting the Gela airfield; Captain Haigh and company are your passengers to Catania, Dan, and Major Ormrod and his team will be taking passage in Ursa – to Comiso, that is.’
All sitting – Ormrod next to Shrimp again, Mike putting himself near the bottom of the table and relieved that Shrimp was pushing it along a bit, so he’d have a chance of catching Abigail still at her office, not gone for lunch. Checking the time again: already ten past the hour. The midshipman was handing out sheafs of typed foolscap to the three COs – patrol orders as devised by Shrimp and Broadbent, based on some of one’s own ideas, no doubt.
‘Smoke if you like. I’ll just run over the salient points. Swordsman first, since the other two are identical except in navigational detail. As I say, Dan, your destination is Catania, floating off eight commandos in four folboats at 2200 Saturday – in the position given in those orders, two and a half thousand yards offshore.’
‘Quick shufti at this stuff before going further, may I?’
‘Good idea. Push that chart along to him, Mid. Melhuish, now. Your soldiers’ target is Gela airfield, but you’ll be landing them a dozen miles to the east of it, between the port and Cape Scalambri. Saturday, you’ll dive about 0500, carry out coastal reconnaissance during the day – forenoon anyway – as required by your commando team leader but naturally at your own discretion, basically to spot any potential hazard – including troop movements or new defences around the beachhead area, but of course being damn careful with periscopes. This is the purpose of giving you what looks like a spare day. Anyway – Saturday evening, move inshore to float off canoes at about 2200. Lat. and long. and coastal bearings as in that screed, and you’ll pick your chaps up off the same beach on Tuesday between 0300 and 0400. Check all this and the navigational detail in the Ops Room at Lazaretto – I’m briefing you together like this as far as the general outline’s concerned so you all have the same overall view of it. An important point for Ursa and Unsung, though –’ Melhuish’s head jerked round, from an attempt to read the chart upside-down and from a certain distance – looking for Gela and hadn’t yet found it, Mike guessed – ‘your team, Melhuish, will be landing seven and a half miles west of Cape Scalambri, Ursa’s the same distance east of it, and between the two approaches there’s a great gulf fixed, a triangular middle-ground with its apex on Cape Scalambri that’s forbidden water to both of you. Broadbent will clarify this when you get down to it. All right?’
Then the weather – Shrimp’s own deadline, based on weather reports to be received from the boats – from Ursa anyway – as called for in orders, for a late decision either to proceed or to abort. ‘Indications are a little better than they were, thank God … Yes, Dan – hoisted that in, have you?’
‘Think I have, sir – but no pick-up? I land my chaps and bugger off?’
‘What it comes down to, yes. But I want you to discuss this with Captain Haigh. The proposal being that you spend four or six hours within signalling distance of the beach, in case they run into serious trouble at that early stage and need to be taken off. It’s a possibility, apparently. But if that period expires without a call for help, away you go.’
‘Aye aye, sir. But may I know what –’
‘We don’t know what they’ll be doing, only that we aren’t supposed to bring them back.’ Shrimp was very evidently conscious of having no time to waste. With a convoy on its way – as it had to be and pretty well immediately, Mike guessed, to have had the date settled for this outing, he’d have a lot more than just ‘Backlash’ on his hands – most of the rest of the f
lotilla to re-dispose as well, presumably. Adding now, ‘A novelty our commando friends have brought us is a new kind of torch for signalling through periscopes – communications between shore and/or folboats and submarines. Demonstration at dusk this evening – meet in the Lazaretto wardroom at 1830, all welcome. Until then, any questions?’
‘One thing, sir.’ Mike – who after a moment’s alarm had realised he could get down there for the demonstration then back up to South Street at the speed of light, leaving them to load their canoes without his help – ‘Minor suggestion for the soldiers – rather than have it all to do tomorrow, might embark gear including canoes this evening?’
That had gone down well, and Shrimp had wound the meeting up with a brief exposition, for Melhuish’s and Gerahty’s benefits, of the importance of getting the commandos ashore on time and in the right places. ‘Then, it’s their pigeon – wrecking those three airfields simultaneously and in so doing disrupting the enemy’s air operations right across the board. It’ll be a hell of an achievement, if they can bring it off. The weather’s still a little doubtful, but I can assure you I won’t be aborting the operation if it’s anything less than downright impossible.’
Gerahty blew smoke at an overhead light, then met Shrimp’s eyes. ‘Bringing in a convoy, are we?’
‘Is that your guess, Dan?’
‘Unless we’re invading Sicily, or something.’
‘Most likely will be, before long. All right, gentlemen … Oh, wait – RAF activity you may or may not encounter, during and after the assaults …’
Abigail said quietly, ‘The intention of working through my lunch-hour and knocking-off early is aimed at – ah – adapting to your situation – whichever way the cat jumps?’
He stooped, kissed her neck, told her ‘It’s jumped – or at least signalled its intention of doing so. I’ve been at another meeting, couldn’t get to you sooner.’
‘So what’s our programme?’
‘Well – mine is to spend as many consecutive hours with you as possible. What time at Strada Mezzodi this afternoon, for instance?’
‘Three-thirty?’
‘I can be there by four. Then I’ll need to get down to Lazaretto at six or six-thirty, but only for about an hour, back to you seven-thirty or eight. Tomorrow’ll be a very early morning, I’m sorry to say.’
She grimaced slightly. ‘And the last one, for a while?’
‘Does look like being so.’
‘Yes.’ Those eyes on his, from a distance of about two inches. ‘You won’t be doing anything too damn silly, I hope?’
‘Do my best not to.’ They’d stopped – more or less out of other people’s way. ‘For much the same reason you ask me not to.’
‘You mean – same wavelength. You realise it matters.’
‘It’s always mattered. Part of my job’s to keep us alive. Just that now it matters from every other point of view as well.’
‘Well, that is good news!’
‘So what was the niggling about – Tuesday or Wednesday, crack of dawn, I thought somewhat hoity-toity?’
‘It was a little early, for a proposition of – I mean, that far-reaching, right out of the blue, one we’ve never discussed before and frankly I’m not at all sure I’m ready for in any case. Let’s not talk about it now?’
He’d got to her a little after the time he’d promised; he was inside and had the door shut and bolted again within seconds. Like surfacing for a gun action, almost. He kissed her. ‘Sorry. May say I came most of the way at the double.’
‘What else have you been doing?’
‘Oh – this and that. Some chartwork was the important thing. Also a procedure known as Requestmen and Defaulters. Then generally squaring things off, solving another guy’s non-existent problems for him. Oh, and conversing with various members of my crew. As I say, this and that.’
It had included further discussion of beachhead reconnaissance. And a proposal of more widely separated departure times for Ursa and Unsung, and varying their routes on both outward and return trips. It had been well worth while, he thought, but he still didn’t think much of Charles Melhuish. Abigail had said – in the kitchen and in reference to Ursa’s crew – ‘I’d like to meet some of them, some day.’
‘I’m sure they’d like to meet you, too. When we’re back from this one, any time you like.’
She’d made that face again. ‘Saying hello, goodbye.’
He frowned. ‘Saying hello, goodbye, see you back home.’
‘Think we will, Mike?’
‘If we want to. I most certainly want nothing else. You against it now?’
‘Just that here and now it seems a touch incredible … What’s that?’
‘Present from the wardroom messman. Supper – or contribution to it.’
‘Is he allowed –’
‘He’s a pragmatist with a kindly disposition. If one’s only there for about one meal in ten he concludes one’s eating elsewhere, someone else’s rations, so – Abbie, you’re lovely. You truly are, you’re perfect. I have you pictured in my mind all day, and when at last I get to focus on you, you just bloody slay me …’
When he got back down to Lazaretto, soon after six, Ormrod was telling Gerahty and Melhuish that two of his hates were fishermen and farm dogs. ‘Fishermen who don’t show lights, especially, as well as those who have a Hun rifleman as passenger. You’d be surprised how often they crop up.’
‘So – you’re in a folboat, presumably – what can you do about it?’ Gerahty pinched out a cigarette stub and flicked it into the creek. ‘Could you mount a Bren or somesuch on a folboat’s bow?’
‘We often do – for other purposes though, not for that. No, all one can do is play it very, very carefully – steer around them, if you’ve seen them in time, or lie still, dead-in-the-water and holding one’s breath until the buggers pass. Otherwise – well, you can let rip with a .45 or a 9-millimetre – may be lucky, if you’ve taken ’em by surprise. But the problem with farm dogs is they bark. Which is what farmers expect of them, of course, keep the place clear of miscreants of various kinds – including Hun soldiery, as like as not.’
‘You shoot them, do you?’
‘The dogs? Yes, have done. But a knife’s better. Gunshots in the night don’t exactly allay suspicion. Mind you, a crossbow has a lot to be said for it as long as there’s enough light to see by.’
‘D’you carry one?’
Melhuish had asked the question; Ormrod said yes, one did, except on nights that were going to be moonless or so cloudy as to be guaranteed pitch-dark. Otherwise one scarpered – or could crouch, freeze, pray the bloody things would either shut up or come into knife-range. It depended on circumstances, terrain, weather and so forth. You improvised, as much as anything. The conversation ended with Melhuish saying ‘Not my idea of fun’, and Billy Flood arriving with the torches.
Which worked all right, from a motionless submarine secured between buoys. The torches were primarily intended for use when recovering canoes, guiding them out from the beach; you’d see a blue light flashing from shore, set the periscope on it and give the landing-party a few flashes they’d see. But obviously when you were on the surface periscopes didn’t come into it; and to recover a landing-party you did need to be surfaced. The general conclusion was that there could be circumstances in which they’d come in handy, but that was about the extent of it.
Melhuish said, low-voiced, when he and Mike were making their way shoreward over a long reach of brow, ‘When I told you Shrimp had me down for this lark, you must have known we both were?’
‘I gave a hand with some navigational planning. Shrimp didn’t want the scope of the operation known. His orders stressed the need for maximum security – for the simple reason that getting the convoy in as near intact as possible’s about as important as anything could be at this stage, so why risk someone shooting his mouth off? As I’m doing now for instance.’
‘Or presumably as I might if I’d known about it.�
�
‘Anyone might. You and I just have. What people don’t know about, Charles, they can’t talk about. That’s not original, I know, but if they don’t need to know about it, why bloody tell them?’
‘That’s an old refrain too, of course. But all right, forget it.’ Then: ‘You hanging on to see the canoes embarked?’
‘No. My Number One’s seeing to it.’
‘Going back ashore, then?’
‘Yes, Charles. Going back ashore.’
16
Accompanied by McLeod and the coxswain, he’d completed his usual predeparture tour of the boat, chatting with various individuals encountered along the way – including some of Ormrod’s team – Colour Sergeant Gant RM, four other Royal Marines and two Army corporals. In all, forty on board instead of thirty-two. Now, back in Ursa’s wardroom, he enquired of Ormrod, who was at the table with a mug of tea, ‘Are you happy to stay down here? Bridge isn’t exactly spacious.’
‘Thanks, I’ll keep out of your way.’
‘Be a little while. Trim-dive when we’re a mile down-channel.’
‘Good luck with it.’ Looking from Mike to McLeod, who of course was responsible for the trim, slightly complicated this time by the added weight of eight men and their gear. The Major had been around submarines quite a bit, of course, knew what it was all about. Mike checked the time again, and nodded to McLeod. ‘Harbour Stations, Jamie.’
For the penultimate time, he thought, on his way up the ladder. Last time, as a departure for patrol. Actually her eighteenth. Dog minus 3, in that vernacular, and Ursa the last to go. Swordsman had sailed at noon, Dan Gerahty having elected to give himself six additional hours in which to cover the 120-odd nautical miles to the vicinity of Acireale, a few miles to the north of Catania. Delays, interruptions or diversions of one kind or another weren’t unusual, and having a few hours you could afford to waste was a relaxant. Gerahty had taken Shrimp’s admonition to heart, had been thinking about it last evening before the periscope–torch exercise and raised it with Shrimp afterwards, Shrimp according to Charles Melhuish responding in his usual laconic manner with ‘All right. Shift in alongside here when Upstart shoves off at first light.’ Reason for this being that Swordsman hadn’t finished storing ship, as both Ursa and Unsung had, and it was more easily and quickly done alongside than out at the buoys; in fact she’d been lying-off, ready to slip into that ‘wardroom berth’ which Upstart had been in the process of vacating, when Mike had arrived for breakfast, telling himself authoritatively Forget all that – meaning her damp eyes and warm body, the anxious ‘Promise, no longer than a week?’
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