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  I was always uncomfortable when the attention was on our section and so I changed the subject, "Have we replacements yet for the lads who were lost?"

  Jack shook his head, "A new batch is due in next week." He grinned at Daddy, "That means you will have to train up two new lads."

  Daddy shrugged, "We have a good section. They will help. Did you know Bill Becket caught a packet but wouldn't stay in the RAF Sick Bay? We have sound chaps."

  "Aye y'have." Wally pointed to the bar with his glass, "Fancy another pint you lads?"

  "We'll get these. My dad always told me to stand my own corner. It is our round. What are you on?"

  The second pint went down as well as the first. The warm smoky atmosphere and the beer soon had my eyes drooping. Wally said, quietly to me, "Seriously Tom, how the hell did you manage to fly a bloody big German aeroplane and why aren't you in the air force?"

  "Flying isn't that hard. Remember my dad taught me almost before I could drive. And as for the size and the type; an aeroplane is the same no matter what the size. I am just glad that we were lucky enough to get one. I didn't fancy spending the war behind bars."

  "I heard a rumour that the Germans are shooting Commandos."

  "That wouldn't surprise me. I met the Waffen SS and they were more than happy to shoot ordinary soldiers. I think if they could get their hands on one of us they wouldn't think twice about it."

  "You reckon your lads caught a packet then?"

  "The soldiers we saw in Gravelines weren't SS. On the other hand we did hear shooting." I shrugged, "I like to think they made it and are safe. They were good lads."

  "Amen to that."

  The next morning we took back the Mills bombs we had not used. I asked the Quarter Master's sergeant, Fred Jones, "Have you any gash camouflage netting?"

  "Might have. What for?"

  Daddy said, "We had to spend a few hours in a ditch with Jerry twenty yards away. Netting would have helped."

  "I'll go and have a butchers out the back for you."

  He came back ten minutes later with a roll of it. "We have this. Any good to you?"

  "Perfect." Daddy reached over for it.

  Fred put one hand on it and held open the other, "Fair exchange and all that lads."

  Daddy looked at me and I reached into my battledress pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Fred held up two fingers and I took out a second packet. Fred quickly pocketed the packs and released the netting. As Daddy took it he mumbled, "Robbing bastard!"

  Fred just grinned, "You have to look out for number one in this war, mate."

  When we were outside I said, "Why are you worrying Sarge? I don't smoke. I just keep the rations for the lads."

  "I know but," He turned and looked back at the hut. "He sits on his arse over here and never risks anything. Poor Bert and Ian are now in the bag or dead. It isn't fair. He is like one of those Black Market spivs. He'll end this war a rich man."

  "You know what they say about fair and the army. Don't let it get to you. Dad said that worrying about dead mates was a luxury you couldn't afford in war. Just remember them when it is all over he said."

  "Then he is a better man than me. I can't get them out of my head."

  "You've lost mates before though."

  "Aye but then I wasn't in charge," he tapped his stripes, "these weigh a lot more when they are on your own arm."

  "I know. Come on let's get some scissors and see how many bits we can get out of this."

  We unrolled the netting and worked out how many pieces we would be able to get out of it. There was no point in making it too small and if it was too large then it would add weight to our Bergens. We managed to make six good sized cloaks from it. When we rolled them up we found they were quite light. We had four spares to give to the lads but we would wait a while before we distributed them.

  After a bath we both washed the uniforms we had worn in France. A Commando received more pay. We could have paid someone to do it but we both liked looking after our own equipment. Then we stripped and cleaned our guns. I sharpened my dagger on my whetstone. The blood of the dead German was still there until I cleaned it off. It was a reminder of what we did.

  We were up bright and early the next day for the new routine of a five mile run in full kit before breakfast and then a day of learning new skills and honing old ones. The new intake arrived at the start of October. To us they looked young but we realised that they weren't. Many were the same age as us and had transferred in from other units. It was just our faces showed the war we fought. None of these had seen action yet.

  The two replacements were Harry Gowland and George Lowe. Harry was a northern lad from Sunderland and George came from near Carlisle. These were young and had volunteered as territorials. They were keen to learn and that always helped. After a week we realised that they weren't as fit as we were and we used Ken and Gordy to keep an eye on them and act as a sort of big brother to them both. It paid off and by the second week they were no longer falling behind on the five mile runs. Many lads thought they were fit until they came to the Commandos. We knew the value of the five mile runs. If we had not been as fit as we were then the Germans would have captured us already.

  With the replacements the two troops under Major Foster were back up to full strength. The rest of the Brigade was still in Scotland and we wondered what our function would be. When we debated the future most of us were agreed that we preferred working in smaller groups. The idea of going ashore in hundreds rather than tens did not appeal to us. It was, perhaps, because we had been one of the first troops to start raiding and that had been, perforce, in small numbers. Many of those with Lord Lovat had never fired a weapon in anger yet. There was a rumour that Lord Lovat was going to invade Norway with the rest of our Commando. I didn't believe that but it provided much discussion. What were the others training for?

  Towards the end of October Major Foster sent for the NCOs from two sections. One was ours and one was Jack Johnson's. We met in the Troop office. Sergeant Major Dean and Lieutenant Reed were both there. "Right chaps." He nodded to Daddy and me. "Thanks to you two we sent bombers over to attack the airfields you identified and the army camp. You were right Corporal Harsker. It was heavily defended by guns and by fighters. The Wellingtons took heavy losses. It seems the only way to attack them safely with bombers is at night but the accuracy isn't very good at night and with Calais and Gravelines close by the brass don't want too many civilian casualties." He paused and I knew what was coming. "We have to go back in."

  Daddy could not contain himself. "But sir, with just two sections we wouldn't stand a chance of destroying the airfield!"

  Sergeant Major Dean snapped, "Grant!"

  "That is all right Sergeant Major, the sergeant is quite right. No Grant, the two squads will go and illuminate the fields for the bombers."

  Jack asked, "Illuminate sir?"

  "Yes, send off a Very Light when you hear the bombers. It will show them where the field is."

  I remembered the flare at our beach. It had only shone for a few minutes. I knew how long it would take the bombers to pass. "Sir, that won't work."

  I received a glare from Sergeant Major Dean but Major Foster just smiled, "Go on, Harsker. Your contributions are always worth hearing."

  "Well sir, even allowing for wind drift and the like the flare will only burn for a couple of minutes. You have just as much chance of missing the target as hitting it. It seems a risky mission with little chance of success."

  The Major looked disappointed, "You are saying it can't be done because if you do then I have to tell you that you are wrong. This has come from Commando Headquarters."

  "But not Bomber Command eh sir? If we fire the flares when we hear the bombers then by the time they get over the target the flare might not even be visible. No sir, I am saying we need to start a fire. That way it will burn long enough for the bombers to target the field. A fire will be visible for miles."

  Jack said, "How would you start a fire
?"

  I smiled, "Aeroplanes use petrol and the hangars are made of wood. I reckon we could rig something up to burn."

  The Major was intrigued and he leaned forward, "Go on, how would you get inside the field?"

  "I am not sure about the one at Oye-Plage but the one at Marck just had a wire fence and we got in that way before."

  "Wasn't it mined, Harsker?"

  "No, Lieutenant Reed."

  I saw the two officers exchanging looks, "That might work. It is no more risky than sending a flare up."

  Sergeant Major Dean said, "Less risky sir. A flare doesn't give the lads much time to escape. They could use a timer for the fire."

  "You would need to have more than one fire. There would always be a chance that just one timer might not work."

  "You are right, Lieutenant Reed." The Major looked at Daddy and me; I suspect because we had had eyes on the field. "Could you do more than one fire?"

  I had seen Daddy thinking during this conversation and he nodded. "They looked to have the fighters dispersed, sir. Three fires near three aeroplanes should be possible. One man to each aeroplane and the rest keeping watch. The thing is sir we would have to know when the bombers were coming; I mean to within ten minutes. We would need to get away fairly sharpish."

  "We can do that."

  I coughed, "And, sir, how do we get off."

  "I know Harsker, you had problems the last time. We have had a word with Navy and there will be a back up pick up point too."

  "We can't use the same beaches we used last time, sir. They will have them guarded tighter than a Waaf's knickers."

  Major Foster laughed, "Very colourful Sergeant. We are working on that. The Navy has been over to recce suitable sites." We all nodded, "Any further questions?" We shook our heads, "The mission is scheduled for the thirtieth. You may need to do a cliff assault. We have Lulworth Cove close by. You had better use that to practise. Lieutenant Reed will command."

  We gathered the two sections and drew ropes from the QM stores. As we headed for the cliffs around Lulworth Daddy said, "We have all done the basic climbing course, sir but cliffs…"

  "Don't worry Sergeant, I did a fair bit of rock climbing before the war. Besides I have had a look at the maps and the cliffs are not as intimidating as those around Dover. There are more beaches than cliffs where we are going."

  Jack asked, "And which field will we be doing sir?"

  "I will be with you at Oye-Plage. Grant and the others are familiar with Marck." He looked at Daddy, "You have a way in I take it?"

  "Unless they have bolted that stable door then yes sir, but if not then we can always make another. I am guessing that we get landed one night; hide during the day and then escape the second night?"

  "That is about it."

  "Then we should have enough time to recce the fence the first night." He grinned at Jack, "Unless they have demolished it we have a nice little hidey hole for the day."

  Jack sniffed, "You know you have more luck than is good for you."

  "What explosives will we be taking sir?"

  "T.N.T. again, White. Clock timers." Wally groaned. "I know they are heavy but they work."

  "There is a backup we could use sir."

  "And what is that Corporal Harsker?"

  "The aeroplanes will have fuel in them. If we open the drain then we could use that to set them on fire."

  Daddy shook his head, "That would be no good. We would have to be close enough to light the fuel."

  "Both airfields are close to roads; we could shift down them quicker than across country. We could wait until the timers set off the charge and then run. It would only need two to wait behind as insurance. If the timers didn't work they could resort to lighting the petrol." I shrugged, "Besides spilling the petrol would guarantee a good fire."

  "If we knew where the drain was."

  "We ask the RAF. They will know."

  Lieutenant Reed nodded. It was good working with Jack Johnson's section. Daddy and I had been in that section until our promotion. My closest friend had been Sean and he hoped to be a corporal like me. He was the senior Commando in the section after Jack and Wally. Our close links made the training easier somehow. We needed all of our camaraderie and shared experiences to get us through the cliff climbing.

  By the time we had finished on the cliffs our hands were red raw and bleeding. We had had all taken a tumble, Lieutenant Reed apart. But we all felt more confident. We finished up learning how to abseil down the cliffs. That was frightening for you had to step out over nothing. Lieutenant Reed said, "That won't be a problem lads."

  "Why not sir?"

  "Because Barker, we will be doing it at night. It will be pitch black and you will see bugger all!"

  If he thought to cheer us up then he failed. However we all became quite adept and the Lieutenant even showed us how to do it quickly by bouncing down. "It is risky at night as you might not be able to see what is at the bottom but it is the quickest way down and that might be important. You will all have your own rope. We might need to look at what we are packing in the Bergens. The ropes will be vital." John Connor was given the extra weight of the Aldis signalling lamp. If we ran in to trouble we could send signals to the Navy who would stand off the pickup beaches.

  On the way back I ran through this risky plan in my mind. It seemed to me that there were more opportunities for things to go wrong than to go right. We had to find a beach which was not patrolled. We had to revisit somewhere we had already raided. We had to use timers and we had to escape by a different route from the one we took to get in. Added to that was the fact that we had to time the raid to coincide with a bombing run. We would need all of Daddy's famous luck and then some.

  Chapter 5

  With just two MLs we were able to load and set sail in daylight. Daylight was something of an exaggeration. It was a murky grey day with drizzle. It was a long voyage and we would not be lying up in Kent. An MGB accompanied us and I was delighted to see Bill Leslie. He was still alive. We had little time to talk but I told him of the disaster on our last voyage. "It wouldn't be down to your lads, Tom. That Williams was a mad bugger. He seemed to treat the war as a game."

  "You sailed with him?"

  He shook his head, "He was in the flotilla for a while and I got to see him in action." He pointed to our officer. "Lieutenant Jarvis is sound. He might look like he hasn't started to shave but he is a good sailor."

  As we bounced across the Channel I mentally ran through all that I would need to do. We were landing at Sangatte just south of Calais. The meteorological boys had worked out the tides and we would be able to leave from the same beach at Sangatte. It meant that the other section and Lieutenant Reed would have a longer journey but that could not be helped. The backup plan was for us to be picked up from the cliffs at Gris Nez. I, for one, was hoping that we would get off from Sangatte. It was close to where Louis Bleriot had flown across the Channel for the first time. A beach departure was preferable to a cliff climb. The thought of descending a cliff at night to catch a launch was a frightening prospect.

  Our packs were heavier than ever. Despite our best efforts we had had to bring more than ever before. The ropes, the TNT, and the clocks were all invaluable. We would just have to tough it out. Bill had been right. Our Captain knew his business. His leading hand came to us and said, "Just half an hour to go lads. Get ready."

  This was our second such landing and we knew what to expect. The tide was on the turn and the young lieutenant was able to run us in a little closer so that we barely got wet. The water came to just above my knees. I was the first ashore and I ran up the beach and then crouched with cocked gun. I scanned the shoreline but saw nothing untoward. More importantly I heard nothing either. It was a narrow beach and the road, according to the maps, was just fifty yards from the beach. Connor ran up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I ran the fifty yards to the road and threw myself to the ground. There were a couple of houses but neither was closer than a hundred yards
from our position. The Navy had done their job well. They had landed us at an isolated section of occupied France.

  I half stood and, without turning, waved the others forward. We would travel together as far as Marck and the others would then make their own way to Oye-Plage. It was only three miles from our target and would just take them an hour longer. I would be the scout for this raid. My knowledge of French and the fact that I had scouted before made me the obvious choice. We had studied the old road maps from before the war and we had decided to risk using the D 247. I took it as a mark of the Lieutenant's confidence in me that he thought I would be able to spot danger before it struck us.

  I led us towards Coquelles, a tiny hamlet. The late hour and the curfew ensured that no locals were out and about. There might be German sentries and patrols but I hoped that I would see and hear them. We were wearing our rubber soled shoes and we were silent as we almost crept along the tarmac. Each time we neared a house or a building I slowed down. Our equipment was so well designed that it did not make a noise but I was taking no chances. I had a great responsibility upon my shoulders.

  We reached the outskirts of Calais. I smelled tobacco and wood smoke. I waved the others to get into a ditch. I crawled snake like, towards the road junction. There was a sentry box and a brazier. It was a check point. I turned and waved Gordy forward. I pointed ahead and made the sign that we had to disable the guards. If we killed them then that might cause a bigger hue and cry. Dead men would enrage their comrades. This was not a good start to our raid but there was no point in making it into a disaster.

  We moved together and separated close to the sentry box. I heard them speaking. I calculated that my target was just to the right of the box and was poking the fire. I ran up to him and, wrapping my left arm tightly around his neck with my forearm on his Adam's apple I put my right arm behind his neck and pulled hard. The move was called the Japanese strangle. I had not yet used it in action. I knew that too much pressure would kill the guard and not enough would enable him to shout. I needed to make him lose consciousness.