by David Roy
‘Go easy on him, John. It’s not his fault is it? I dragged him into this. You can’t expect him not to be surprised’, said Roy. He was more of a conciliator than the other man. John displayed raw aggression - useful in many contexts but perhaps not in this one.
‘So, what do I do then?’, asked Sam.
‘Well. For as long as you’re working at the factory you just try to memorise the details of its layout and the equipment they put in. Anything might come in useful. It’s hard to know. We’ll train you up and give you any information that you need.’
‘That thing with the pipe. Remember when you asked me to count the paces from it to the shore?’
‘That could be our way in or where we put a bomb to destroy the whole place.’
‘And we need to be careful’, put in John. He stood and looked directly at Sam. ‘If the Germans get wind that anyone suspects anything that’ll be curtains for you two and anyone else who works there. They’ll think nothin’ of sticking the lot of you up against a wall and shooting’ you. They’ve done it in other places. They’re also not averse to disposing of an entire workforce after they’ve finished with them. So, we might be lookin’ at an escape route for you both.’ Roy nodded. Their capture would of course be bad news for John as well.
‘The other thing is that we need to be absolutely sure that this factory is what it seems to be before we destroy it and that when we plant our bomb it really is going to destroy it completely.’ He let the words hang there for a second or two before continuing. ‘The Nazis will carry out reprisals for this. I would guess that if this is as important as we’ve been told, they’ll kill hundreds.’ John folded his arms and looked belligerently at Sam.
‘Thousands, I think’, said Roy.
‘So, when we do it, let’s make sure that we do it right.’
Sam nodded, grimly. His thoughts at once turned to his Mum and Dad and Nancy. He was about to open his mouth to speak but John cut him short.
‘And before you say it. No, we can’t move them somewhere safe. They have to take their chances like everyone else. It’s too big a risk and it would bring suspicion down on them and you.’
‘So, are you in, Sammy? This is going to happen whether you are or not….’
‘I suppose I’m in.’
‘Welcome back to the British Army, Corporal Beattie.’
1946
On the sixth of December 1945, exactly four years after the attack on Pearl Harbour the US dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima, a medium-sized Japanese city. The attack on the mainland was imminent and the Japanese surrender followed within a couple of days. Truman was criticised for postponing the attack to coincide with that infamous date, thus sacrificing hundreds of American lives in battles which became irrelevant, but the truth of the matter was that the bomb was barely ready in time.
However, America had come from the shadows to be the most powerful nation on Earth. The Japanese surrender gave Hitler pause for thought. There had never been any material benefit in having the Japanese as allies but their defeat made him seriously think about the same thing happening to the Reich. It wouldn’t be his fault of course. He had done everything possible and had led the German people back to greatness. But somehow the genius that his commanders had once displayed had deserted them and they were no longer able to translate his commands into victories. The Russians were fighting in Berlin and yet another line of defence was being made far to the west to prevent the Ruhr from being over-run. They had the type of weapons needed to win but increasingly they didn’t have the men to use them. The Wehrmacht now comprised of men and boys too weak to fight properly and unreliable allies who seemed to view every battle as an opportunity to surrender. The new missiles, brilliant as they were, no longer had any targets. Such was their limited range that they could only be directed at cities within Germany now. The Russians lagged behind in technology - way behind - but it didn’t matter.
He needed the new atomic weapons to be ready. America had proved it could be done. He needed the Soviets to quake in their boots and pull back for fear of the disaster that would befall them. As he ranted, his Generals looked on and said nothing. It was clear that Hitler was ill - incurably so - and yet he clung to the reigns with desperation. There was no-one with the power to tell him to step down or to seize power from him. Furthermore, his commanders couldn’t understand how these so-called atomic weapons worked or how they could change events. They needed men in tanks to stem the Red Army tide, not fanciful missiles or mysterious bombs. He said that they should sue for peace but what would induce Stalin to accept this when the path was clear for him to take control of all of Europe?
Belfast
The house stank even more than it had done previously. Someone had broken in and ripped out chunks of wood from the banisters and door frames. Unfortunately for them they had been caught by the police, handed over to the Germans and hanged publicly. The message was clear - no looting. There was nothing in the house which was incriminating. Not that the police had been looking for anything. The house, once forlorn and ignored had attracted attention. From now on, people would notice the men going in and out. Perhaps in their number would be those who wished to ingratiate themselves with the Germans by telling tales. In so doing they might be taking the heat off themselves and being good little Nazis.
‘I’ve sent word that we need more explosives’, said Roy. ‘I reckon a hundred pounds of TNT will do it.’
‘That’s not much.’
‘It is when you have to carry it, Sam’, said John. His attitude to the new man had mellowed somewhat since their first meeting. Perhaps his contribution would actually be worth having.
‘And we break inside and blow up the machinery?’
‘I was thinking of just leaving a massive bomb in the outlet pipe beneath the factory.’
‘And hoping for the best?’, said John. ‘That won’t do. We have to destroy this thing completely or not at all. We won’t get a second chance.’
‘Okay. So, what do you suggest?’, said Roy, defensively.
‘Either a bigger bomb or get inside. The pipe is big enough for us to get inside, isn’t it?’
‘Aye, but it leads into some piece of machinery or other and its liable to be partly filled with water.’
‘Well, forget that for a minute - how much explosives can we get?’, asked Sam. He still felt like an outsider but wanted to know the details.
‘As much as we want. That’s not the problem. The problem is moving them to the right place.’
‘But how do they get into Northern Ireland? Across the border?’
‘Not usually. The security is too tight. The Irish Army is more or less stopping any movement at all. The Republic wants to keep the Nazis sweet so that they don’t invade. No, the explosives usually come in by submarine from the States.’
‘And it comes in to where?’
‘What does it matter where?’, said John, impatiently.
‘Well, why not get the sub to drop it off right where we need it. Drop it off at the mouth of the pipe.’
‘You can’t get a sub in there. It’s too shallow.’
‘It’s not John’, this time it was Roy who spoke. ‘It's reclaimed land. It doesn’t just taper off into the sea like an ordinary piece of shoreline. It's like a step down into the water. It’s plenty deep for a submarine.’ John looked sceptical. ‘We built it remember!’
‘That way we can have a bigger bomb and guarantee the job is done right. We can bring the whole thing down on itself’, said Sam
‘And maybe the sub captain can give us a lift out of there, as well’, added Roy.
‘I’ve got a new job’, said Nancy
‘Oh aye. Where?’
‘Same place but just moved up a bit. Promotion, more money. All that.’
‘Well done.’
‘Aye.'
'We’re both earnin’ good money, y’know’, said Nancy.
‘Suppose so’, said Sam, non-committally.
&nb
sp; Nancy knew she was going to have to drag this out of him. In fact, no - she wasn’t. She was going to ask him.
‘I think we should get married.’
‘Married?’
‘Nothin’ wrong with your hearin’ then.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing’, she said heavily. ‘We should get married. We love each other. We can afford to do it. We can afford to get a house. So why not?’
‘Aye but….’
‘But what? You don’t love me?’
‘No not that. Of course I love you it’s just that…. well, with the way things are. Is the time right?’
‘It’s not going to get any more right than it is now. You’re almost obsessed with the Germans. You talk and think like they are going to go some day and they’re not. They are here to stay. This is our life.’
Sam looked out over the Lough. A freighter with a Norwegian flag cut through the water and into the harbour and beyond that stood the factory, like a grey prison. The shell was nearly complete, the roof almost on and the equipment which it would house was in the process of being brought into the country bit by bit. He hated it. Hated it for the backbreaking work it had caused him and the fact that he had killed a man there. But most of all he hated it because it stood between him and happiness. He knew that what Nancy was asking for - and what they both wanted - was out of the question because of the factory. He couldn’t tell her that, of course. The less she knew the better. He did love her and he did want to marry her but he also wanted her to remain unconnected to him to give her the best chance of surviving the reprisals which he knew were coming.
‘Supposin’ the Germans weren’t going to be around forever?’, he said, turning his back on the factory, as if he could regain his freedom temporarily in so doing. ‘If you knew that they would leave one day wouldn’t that change things? Wouldn’t you want to wait?’
‘Oh, Sam. You are bloody infuriating! It’s not going to happen. They are here to stay and even if they weren’t, how long would you have us wait? Five years, ten years? We’re young. These are our lives. No second chances. Let’s get married and if all this other stuff happens well and good. And if it doesn’t then we still have each other.’
‘I can’t, Nancy. Not yet. I want to but I can’t and I can’t tell you why, either.’
‘Oh Christ Sam don’t tell me you’ve got mixed up in something stupid. Don’t tell me that’, she pleaded.
He didn’t reply.
The lamps burned down from the wall like stars. It was brighter than the brightest day and their stubby shadows were black like restless, dancing patches of night. Already the nuts had begun to rust under their covering of grey paint but each one turned eventually as the wrench was pulled down. The hum of machinery drowned out the sound of knuckles being skinned and cursed and the clank of metal jaws slipping from corroded, oily fastenings. The background noise was one thing - and they were grateful for it - but they had to just hope that no sentry caught them. There was no clever plan to fall back on and no other option open to them. Every movement was acted out in stark relief, jerky and panicky, for they knew that only once the grill was off the outlet could they find refuge - in the pipe itself. At one point a deluge of hot water cascaded down, threatening to flush the men into salty-fresh confluence of Belfast Lough.
‘I hope we don’t get another of those while we’re waitin’’, said Sam.
‘If we do we just hang on and hope for the best’, said Roy. John came back with, ‘We do too much of that - hoping for the best.’ Roy just shook his head. John was sound man but a terrible pessimist.
It was two-thirty and raining. These were perfect conditions for keeping sentries indoors and away from the places where they should be checking. Even German sentries succumbed to apathy. Tonight’s guard commander was a time-serving Bavarian - popular but rather ineffectual. All of the guards had served on the Russian front until recently. All of them had been wounded. All of them were glad to be alive. All of them enjoyed the easy life. And guarding this factory was a dream job.
So long as everything looked okay when the duty officer came around - and because of the location of the guardhouse you could always see him coming - you would be left alone. He’d already done his rounds and was snoring his head off now. Furthermore, he wasn’t the sort who did snap inspections or tried to catch the men out. That’s what four years in Russia did to a man.
Nevertheless, the saboteurs were jumpy. They heard gravel crunching, doors opening and shutting and occasionally voices carried on the breeze. A German patrol boat had chugged past an hour ago, its powerful searchlight cutting through the darkness like a broad knife. Briefly it even pierced the pitch black of the tunnel before passing. They had felt like cornered rats facing their doom in a way that no real rat could comprehend. Occasionally, a bigger vessel would steam past, its outline picked out in lighted portholes or as a strange dark shape which obscured the lights on the new autobahn on the Carrickfergus side of the Lough.
They weren’t expecting their ship until 3.00pm but even before the allotted time had come, they each knew that it wouldn’t make it. It couldn’t possibly make it! To come all the way from America with a bomb and find this little hole in the artificial coast and to get through the German defences and ships and not be noticed…. well, it was impossible wasn’t it? They knew that their present sabotage was a mistake and not only that, but they would have the job of getting the grill back on and getting to safety again. Madness! A crackpot idea.
But at three o’clock, the new submarine, with its shallow draught and small conning tower, fresh from the Electric Boat Company Yard in Groton, Connecticut, drew alongside.
Sam suppressed a laugh. It was an amazing sight.
‘Bang on time’, said Roy, admiringly. As he spoke, a party of marines who had been crouched on the deck rose and began moving systematically in what looked like a well-practiced routine, whilst another marine manned a heavy machine gun on the conning tower. The saboteurs had moved out of the tunnel just as one of the marines leapt ashore. His face was blackened beneath a cap comforter, he had a Sten gun slung across his back and wore black plimsolls.
‘Hello’, he whispered. At once he began taking hold of the parcels of explosive being passed across from the sub. These he passed to Sam. And Sam to Roy. Roy passed them to John and a second marine, who took it in turns to scurry down the tunnel to position them beneath the factory. Another marine jumped ashore and began laying the det. cord. He attached one end to the growing pile of 'composition C' plastic explosive and the other to a small waterproof box which served as the detonator. In all they offloaded eighty, twenty-five-pound bundles - two thousand pounds of explosive altogether, moving silently and purposefully like well-oiled automatons. In five minutes everything was set.
‘Anyone want a lift?’, said one of the marines. His smile shone through his blackened face like a minstrel’s. ‘We can take you back to the States if you want.’ Sam was shocked. He had not expected such an offer to be made and had given the proposition no thought whatsoever. ‘You’ll need to be quick, chaps’, said the marine. He sounded like an officer. His comrades were back on board now. They would want to be going.
Sam thought about Nancy but he also thought about regaining his freedom. John seemed to have no such reservations.
‘I’ll go. I fucking hate my wife’, he said, happily. With that the officer slapped him on the back and John disappeared into the night. The marine looked expectantly at the two remaining men.
‘I’ll stay. But thanks’, said Roy.
‘I’ll stay too’, said Sam.
‘Right, fellas. Good luck. You’ve got an hour. That enough time?’ Roy nodded and the officer was gone. The boat slid away from the side with just the faintest disturbance in the water. It glided off until swallowed up by the night.
‘Let’s go!’
Just a few cars swept along the road to Bangor, further down the coast. They had circumvented the fence round the factory and cro
ssed the swampy ground behind it to reach the edge of the road. There was no option but to cross it and once across they would split up and begin their separate journeys home. Each man would have to walk miles and hope that they weren’t too conspicuous. The problem was that to be spotted in this area was, in itself, suspicious. There were no houses nearby. No shops, no factories except for the one which they had just sabotaged.
‘Right. Another forty minutes we should be hearing a loud bang.’
‘What about John then?’, said Sam. ’I can’t believe he did that. Did you know?’
‘No. He’s unpredictable though - I knew that. He’s probably regretting it already. Anyway, let’s get as much distance between us and the bloody factory as we can.’
‘I might not see you again, Roy.’
‘Maybe not. Good luck, Sam. You can marry that girl now.’
‘Aye!’, said Sam, doubtfully.
Roy trotted off beneath an underpass and Sam began walking towards the Woodstock Road. A police car passed him at three-forty but didn’t stop. At three-forty-five a tremendous explosion rent the air. By four o’clock he was in bed, listening to sirens coming from all over the city. It sounded like the end of the world.
Reprisals
Whatever had been in the factory certainly went off with a bang and having done so, burned ferociously for hours. Geysers of roaring orange flames heated the skeleton of the building until it glowed white hot. A German-crewed fireboat sprayed an unending plume of water over the fire for twelve hours as Belfast-crewed fire tenders hosed the flames from dry land. The inside of the building was an inferno, radiating unendurable heat. The fire crews struggled to get close enough to the flames to actual direct water onto them. Occasional secondary explosions threw sparks and superheated dust into the air. The immense cloud of radioactive particles that soared invisibly into the night, reached upwards for thousands of feet and spread out at the top like a mushroom. No-one in Europe had ever seen such a phenomenon and no-one saw it now. Its insidious affects would last for years and for most of those years no connection would ever be made to the events of that night.