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  "Almost a fortnight!"

  "Splendid! That will be fun."

  Mum's voice came from the kitchen, "Mary, can you give me a hand?"

  "Will do! I brought home some potatoes and carrots. They are going off a bit but they will fill a hole."

  This was England in nineteen forty. We made do and we got by. It was the way we were and no one would complain. That was not our way. That was why we would win this war. Churchill embodied the spirit of the people and we reflected his tenacious spirit. I felt quite hopeful.

  When they put the dishes on the table mum was quite apologetic. "I only managed to get four ounces of beef but the butcher let me have two calves' feet. Sorry."

  I rubbed my hands. "What are you talking about? I love this! It is one of my favourites!"

  "I know but that was before the war when I would have used two pounds of beef."

  "It will still taste the same!"

  And I was not lying. I loved it. I cleaned the plate and the dish with bread. I knew I had pleased mum. She liked clean plates. She and Mary took the dishes out. As she left the dining room she said, "You can smoke if you like. Your dad does."

  I shook my head, "I don't. I never started and you know what they say. What you never have you never miss."

  Mum brought in a pot of tea after the dishes were done. "Sorry there is no coffee. You can't get it and tea is on the ration too."

  "Well use my rations while I am here. I insist."

  We spent a delightful evening; the two of them filled me in with the mundane and the dull; the life in the village and in the extended family. "Aunt Alice is coming for Christmas. She will be thrilled to see you. I bet she doesn’t even recognise you. I know I can see a change."

  "I can’t believe how young I looked." I pointed to the photograph they had had taken before I went away to University.

  "Now I will do your washing tomorrow. Do you have any sewing? Socks, that sort of thing?"

  I reached into my pocket. "You could sew this on my battledress if you like."

  I handed her my paratrooper wings. Mary took it. "What's this? Are you a pilot now, like dad?"

  "No. I have just finished a paratrooper course. I am now qualified to jump out of aeroplanes!"

  Mary looked envious; mum looked sad, "You are your father's son."

  I thoroughly enjoyed my leave. When Aunty Alice arrived then it became almost perfect. It was only dad's mysterious absence which spoiled things. Aunty Alice was everything a boy could want in an aunt. She was vivacious and she was fun. She liked fast cars and knew film stars. For the four days she stayed with us I forgot all about the war. I went with her to the station to see her off. She kissed me on the cheek. "You are a handsome young man, Tom. Dashing! You remind me of Charlie. I like to think that if we had had children then our son might have grown up to be like you. You will take care won't you? Don't be a risk taker like your dad."

  "I promise."

  She took out her handkerchief and wiped the lipstick from my cheek, "Liar!" I laughed. "Then just take care. Your mum worries about you."

  "I know."

  "All aboard!"

  The Guard's whistle made her slam the door. "And write to me!"

  "I will… when I get the chance!"

  She laughed as the train chugged down the platform, "Men!"

  Chapter 8

  When I reached Weymouth I discovered I was one of the first of our section to return. It was New Years' Day and most of the country had been celebrating. New Year was dad's favourite celebration and with him absent we had had a quiet night and I had got the earliest train south I could. War had made many changes in our country. One was that people celebrated even harder. The last year had been a disaster. Our little island was alone save for the Commonwealth soldiers who were gradually joining us from their distant homes. Since the fall of France the U-Boat menace was growing. The Germans now had access to the Atlantic coast of France and U-Boats no longer had to run the gauntlet of the North Sea. Our convoys were suffering more and the materials and soldiers who travelled from Canada, South Africa, and Australia were suffering. The train had been full of doom and gloom about the shortages. My happiness gradually evaporated as I headed back to Weymouth.

  As we chugged south I saw the effects of the German bombing raids. The Blitz in London was devastating but nowhere was immune. The factories in the Midlands were a tempting target for bombers. Smoke still billowed from the latest raids as we passed through Birmingham and the Black Country.

  Reg Dean was in the office when I reported. He noticed the wings on my battledress and frowned, "Does the Major know about those, Corporal?"

  "Yes Sergeant Major. He has some too."

  He sniffed, "I don't know what is wrong with boats."

  "Have the replacements arrived yet, Sarn't?" Although we did not need any in our section there were gaps in the others.

  "No, they will be here by the end of the week." He opened a drawer and took out a sheet of paper. "Here is this week's training schedule. Give it to Sergeant Grant when you see him. You might as well give it the once over."

  I looked down the list and it looked much like the kind of training before we had gone to Ringway. "Major Foster said we had a mission when we got back."

  For the first time since I had known him Sergeant Major Dean looked surprised, "He didn't tell me."

  I shrugged, "It was something he said when he and Lieutenant Marsden joined us."

  He relaxed a little, "Aye well they did go up to London before they joined you." He tapped the sheet of paper. "Until you hear otherwise those are the standing orders, right?"

  "Right, Sarn't!"

  I had dropped my bag off at my digs and I went to the armoury to pick up my weapons. They had been stored under lock and key but I needed to clean them. If we did have a mission coming up then I wanted to be prepared. I stripped them both down before giving them a thorough clean. I reassembled them and then took every bullet out of my magazine before cleaning and reloading them. It took time but I had little better to do and I had yet to have a gun jam on me. Uncle Lumpy had impressed that upon me. What he didn't know about weapons was not worth knowing.

  Gradually the base filled up as men returned. All had dropped their kit off and, like me, came to get their weapons. When Daddy arrived I handed him the sheet of paper. He gave it a cursory glance and pocketed it. "Good leave, Daddy?"

  Daddy had a family and his grin spoke volumes. "It would have been perfect but for the bombing, oh aye, and the shortages. We are luckier than the civilians you know Tom. At least we have rations. They have to queue for everything."

  "I know." Changing the subject I went on, "Reg Dean knew nothing about this mission the Major mentioned."

  "Might be secret then. There must be tons of stuff going on that we know nowt about."

  I thought about my dad. From what mum had said he was doing something which was secret. That was the only reason she could not find out more information but what was it? He was no longer a front line pilot. He was a Group Captain. They sat behind desks.

  When the rest of the section arrived daddy told them of our orders for the following week. "But for today, I reckon we might be a bit rusty with our weapons. We will go to the firing range."

  The real reason we went was to get the smell of cordite in our noses once more. There were many soldiers in England who had not fired a gun in anger since Dunkirk. We were the fighting edge in England. There were soldiers fighting in Africa and Greece, according to the newspapers Italians were being captured not in their hundreds but their thousands. That did not help the mood in England. Once again, especially in Greece, we were helping our neighbours. Others were standing idly by and watching. They would wait to see if Little England could survive. It was ever thus.

  To make the training interesting Daddy and I promised a shilling each to whoever was the best shot that day. It was little enough but it would buy a couple of pints. It was more the victory that the men would want. Gordy won. He nor
mally did. I had discussed with Daddy the possibility of getting him a Lee Enfield Rifle No.3 (T). That was a sniper's rifle with a three times magnification telescope. Daddy maintained that we wouldn't need it. He preferred the firepower of the machine gun. It was one of the areas of disagreement. The machine gun had the problem of range. The Lee Enfield was more accurate at longer ranges.

  After our five mile run the next morning we saw the effects of too much drink over Christmas. Even I felt a little out of condition and I had barely drunk. Daddy shook his head, "This won't do lads! The WVS could run further than we could. Instead of the range this afternoon we will have a ten mile run in full kit."

  Lieutenant Marsden joined us for the unarmed combat training. Having used it effectively we were even more enthusiastic about the training. When Daddy put the young Lieutenant on his back for the third time Lieutenant Marsden rose, laughing. "With all due respect Sergeant, how can someone who is ten years older than me manage to put me down three times!"

  Daddy smiled, "Put it down to experience sir. We have been doing this a wee bit longer than you."

  "Yes I heard from the Major about the prowess of your section. You have quite a reputation."

  "Yes, sir. These are good lads."

  We were heading back to the armoury when we saw Major Foster return and he had a Royal Navy Commander with him. They had an official car too. Although the others did not pay much attention to it I knew, from my father, that such things were important.

  The last event on Reg Dean's list was a talk about map reading. It was a skill which not all of our men possessed. I had always found it easy. I even had an expensive Silva compass. Dad had bought it for me when he attended a conference in Sweden in the nineteen thirties.

  Half way through the lecture Major Foster came in. Behind him came a Captain of Commandos. He stood at the front, "First of all, Happy New Year."

  We all chorused the response.

  "Secondly, well done to those, who, like me, achieved their wings. Many more of you will be undergoing the training. Thirdly our replacements will be arriving this week." He gestured with his arm, "This is Captain Willoughby. He is Lieutenant Reed's replacement." The Captain stepped forward and nodded. He was older than Lieutenant Reed had been. It was hard to read a man from his appearance alone. We would see how he fared on a run in full kit before we judged him. "Thirdly I shall be away for a while and so Captain Willoughby will command. Finally, Number three section, would you come with me please."

  We all stood and every eye was on us. As I edged down the row Sean said, "Good luck Tom." He knew what that meant. We were going on a mission.

  When we reached the Troop office Sergeant Major Dean and the Lieutenant Commander were there waiting. When the door closed Major Foster turned and said, "No point beating about the bus chaps. We have a mission in France and it is a tad dangerous. I need four volunteers."

  Before our hands could join those of the rest of the section Sergeant Major Dean said, "Sergeant Grant and Corporal Harsker you volunteered already!" he smiled at the frowning Major Foster, "Thought that would save time, sir!"

  "Thank you Sarn't Major. So I need another two."

  There was a cough, "Sir, if you don’t mind I would suggest, Privates Curtis and Barker."

  Giving the NCO a wry smile Major Foster said, "And why are they the best choice, Sergeant Major Dean?"

  "Barker is the best shot, by a long way sir, and Curtis is almost as good with explosives as the Corporal." The Major nodded. "Right the rest of you, back to the lecture and you join Sergeant Johnson's section for a while."

  I saw the disappointment on their faces. It was a measure of the men that they had all volunteered. "This is Lieutenant Commander Collins of the Royal Navy. He will give you the background to our mission."

  The Lieutenant Commander gave the major a look which suggested the background was unnecessary but he nodded and carried on. "As you know the Navy sank a pocket battleship, the 'Graf Spee', in the early years of the war. Although we sank her quickly her raids showed that the Germans could tie up great numbers of our vessels and do a great deal of damage to our commerce with such attacks. Now we have learned that the Germans are building two ships which are bigger and better armed than anything we possess. They are called the Bismarck class. One of them finished its trials in December but, thanks to the Kiel Canal being damaged, it has not been able to leave. We believe it is due to leave soon. In fact that is the reason the Major here was on standby in case it did leave its harbour. When it does it will be able to raid at will. Now the only place such a ship can repair is at the Normandie dry dock in northern France at a place called St. Nazaire. We have heard that the ship has finished its sea trials and is preparing to leave."

  Daddy shook his head, "You want us to blow it up?"

  Major Foster said, "Just wait, Grant, until the Lieutenant Commander has finished will you."

  "When we found out that this beast had been launched we sent bombers over to bomb the dry dock. Less than half returned. We have yet to find out what damage has been caused to the dry dock. Every aeroplane we have sent to photograph has either had to turn back because of low cloud or has been shot down. We asked the French Resistance to have a look and they were all captured." He nodded towards the Major. "Some of your chaps even tried to get in by sea and all of them were either killed or captured. We are blind."

  The Major nodded, "Number One Commando."

  "Things are desperate. If we send more bombers in then they will suffer just as the first raid did."

  He looked at the Major who continued, "That is the main reason you were sent on the Paratrooper course. Lieutenant Marsden and Sergeant Johnson's squads are the backup in case we fail. We are going to parachute behind enemy lines. Then we will get into St. Nazaire and see what damage has been done. We are there to observe and report back. We come out by sea. The Navy will pick us up. There is a small bay some twenty miles from St. Nazaire. A submarine will surface there for three consecutive nights. We just parachute in, have a quick shufti and then nip over to the coast."

  Even Sergeant Major Dean shook his head at the Major's words. He made it sound like a walk in the park when, in fact, it was anything but.

  "Questions?"

  Daddy said, "And we are going in by air because?"

  The Lieutenant Commander said, "Because the other Commandos were caught on the beaches. The Germans have them sewn tight shut."

  Daddy shook his head, "Then how do we get off?"

  The Major said, "You lads showed us that at Wissant. It is another reason why you were chosen. The Germans are stopping people landing; not stopping them leaving."

  Raising my hand I felt like a schoolboy again. "Sir."

  "Yes Harsker?"

  "Does it matter if the Germans know we have seen the dock?"

  The Navy man shook his head and snapped irritably, "What difference does that make, Corporal?"

  "Let him speak, Lieutenant Commander. In my experience Corporal Harsker normally has intelligent things to say. Go ahead, Tom."

  "The odds are that we will be seen at some point. It has happened to us on every mission we have been on. I am guessing this will be the same. I am suggesting that we take timers and explosives. We make them think that we were trying to blow it up. We make the bombs look as though they are booby trapped. That will make them take longer to defuse them and they will spend time searching. I am just trying to buy us time to escape. Twenty miles is a long way in occupied France."

  "Interesting. Well it wouldn't hurt to take explosives and timers. Anything else?"

  Gordy put up his hand, "Sir, any chance of a sniper rifle? It might come in handy. We don't need firepower do we? But we might need to keep someone at a distance."

  Reg Dean nodded, "I'll get one."

  "Anything else?" We shook our heads and the Major looked at Lieutenant Commander Collins.

  "The only thing you need is the password for the submarine then. It will lie off the coast from midnight unti
l four a.m. for three nights following your landing. The password you will send is 'Tiger' and the response will be 'Burning'. They will send a rubber dinghy for you." He looked at us all. "I cannot stress enough the importance of this mission. It is vital that one of you gets back. Thank you, gentlemen."

  He left. We all looked at each other. The Major said, "Smoke if you like." He smiled, "Now you see why I asked for volunteers."

  I was the only one who laughed. "I think we can pull it off, sir."

  "Really? You surprise me. I thought it has more chance of failure than success."

  "There are just five of us sir. That is an easier number to hide than a full section. Two of us speak French well and the others understand it. I speak German and… well… we are Commandos!"

  The Major laughed, "Optimism. I love it. Let's get down to details. Sarn't Major how about a pot of tea?"

  "Good idea sir." He stuck his head out of the door. "Jenkins, a pot of Sergeant Major tea and six mugs."

  The Major unrolled a map. "This is from before the war and might not be accurate. It is, however, a starting point." He pointed to an empty area just north of the port. "This forest is a mile or so north of the river. We will land just south of it. I know it is risky. Private Ford had a collision with trees as I recall. However we will be jumping out at a thousand feet. That is quite low and, so long as the winds aren't too strong we should land safely enough. We will be landing at ten o'clock at night which means that we should be able to get into St. Nazaire by midnight at the latest."

  The tea arrived and there was a hiatus while it was poured. It was Sergeant Major tea. You could have stood a spoon up in it. I saw Major Foster wrinkle his nose but it was the way the lads liked it. They all used at least three spoonfuls of sugar!

  "Sir, won't there be a curfew?"

  "Yes Curtis, there will be. I am afraid we will have to use deadly force on any Germans we find. If we are caught we will be shot; be under no illusions. As with our raids around Calais we need as much information bringing back as we can. If the dock is not damaged then someone will have to think of another way to destroy them."