Not Flag or Fail (21 page)

I told him that it sounded ok to me and then concentrated on the road ahead, we were too close now to risk something going wrong.

I took the right turn as Ronny had said and we rode past the place where earlier the British check point had been set up, the sea was now visible to our left and as we motored down the esplanade we saw that the curfew had done its work. There was not a single sign of life anywhere.

“What time is it?” I asked.

Ronny put his hand further down into the sidecar and shone the torch down onto his watch before telling me it was just after midnight. I came to the place where before we had entered the dunes and carried on past. We were fast approaching the headland where the cave was situated so I started to look for somewhere to lose the motorbike. Some distance in front of us I could just make out the dark shape of a building on our side of the road facing the beach. Slowly we came closer and I could make out a sign advertising the goods on offer, it was a beach café obviously closed and locked up for the night.

Perfect I thought slowing down, steering the bike in through the entrance I drove quietly around the back of the building; I stopped next to some dustbins and turned off the engine.

“This ok do you reckon?” I whispered to Ronny and he gave me the thumbs up.

We took off the helmets dropped them into the sidecar, replaced our berets, cocked the guns and walked quietly out and away, two minutes later we reached the safety of the dunes.

We were right on the edge of the dunes much further down than where we had stopped to rest up when we were last in France. There was no moon and although we could make out the dark shape of the promontory, the beach was in almost complete darkness.

“Are you ready for a run then?” I asked Ronny.

“Ready when you are.” he replied.

The running must have been improving; we reached the rocks very quickly.

“I reckon it’s about an hour to the pick -up point then?” Ronny said.

“That was then, we move quicker now and we can take advantage of the darkness, I reckon half an hour at most.” I said, setting off at our usual trot around the base of the rocks. Nothing hindered our progress and I was close with my estimate, as forty minutes later we were below the cave not even breathing heavily. We climbed straight up, it was even darker inside than I remembered but maybe that was because it was so dark outside.

Moving towards the back of the cave we each lit a cigarette and leaned against the rock smoking, silently reflecting on the events of the past few hours.

Ronny took the torch that the family at the farm had given him and the two lenses from out of his pocket, turning in toward the cave he briefly shone the torch onto the lenses selected the green one and slipped the red one back into his pocket. “Let’s see if our taxi’s arrived yet.” It was almost one a.m. so worth a try I guessed.

He sent out the signal ‘
ok’
through the green lens. We both watched intently but no answer came back. “Well we are a bit early.” I whispered.

Ronny kept the signals up at the required five minute intervals, at some point changing the torch for the one he’d found on the motorcycle thinking it may be more powerful.

It was just before two o’clock when I thought I saw a light “Over there to the right I’m sure.” I said excitedly and sure enough we both saw it, dot -dash -dot and watched as it was repeated once more.

“Bloody marvellous they’re here.” said a relieved Ronny, putting the torch away and buttoning the flap on his pocket. We waited a few minutes and then made our way down from the cave. At the base of the rocks we cocked our weapons each of us keeping a lookout down our side of the beach.

The sea was calm and the waves lapped gently onto the sand twenty feet in front of us, it was too dark to be able to see more than about ten feet from the shoreline but we guessed the rescue party would be close to by now, although there was nothing we could do but wait.

Ronny was standing to the left of me and he nudged me and whispered that he thought he’d seen something he pointed off to his left; I looked over to where he was pointing briefly but was careful to keep an eye on my side of the beach for unwelcome company.

“Yes it’s them, come on.” he whispered pulling at my sleeve, I took a last look down the beach and then followed him.

As we ran along I could make out a dark shape about fifty feet in front of us just coming into view. When we got closer I saw that it was a rubber dingy about ten feet long two men in dark clothes were using paddles to manoeuvre it and a third who was at the front jumped out holding on to a rope. As we got closer we saw that he was completely dressed in black including a black knitted cap that was pulled well down over his ears, in his right hand he held a pistol pointed towards us.

“Hello chaps can we give you a lift anywhere?” He said in a clipped accent.

“Anywhere away from here old boy.” said Ronny in exactly the same tone, as we waded out up to our thighs and pulled ourselves into the dingy. Once we were inside the man holding the rope hopped in after us but with a much greater ease and the two men with the paddles turned us back towards the sea.

The rope man found a torch and flashed it once seaward and as we watched a single answering flash appeared off to our right. The men on the paddles took their sighting and set off with a will towards the point where the light had made its brief appearance. I felt as though we weren’t making much progress but was proved wrong as suddenly out of the darkness loomed a dark shape that from our position low down in the sea appeared to tower over us. Minutes later our rubber boat nudged softly against the dark side of the bigger craft by the side of a steel ladder.

The man at the front was quickly up the ladder taking the rope with him.

“After you gents.” said one of the paddle men who was now standing, steadying the dingy by holding on to the side of the ladder. I climbed up the ladder and jumped onto the deck with Ronny right behind me. We stood there trying to keep out of the way whilst the crew of the dingy lifted it on board and carried it down towards the rear where they tied it down. While they were doing this the wheelhouse door opened and a familiar voice shouted across to us “Come on you landlubbers! Don’t stand there you’re blocking me flipping view.”

We went across to the cabin and found Fishy looking very nautical in a white roll neck sweater and a dark refer jacket, his hands resting on the wheel. Next to him incredibly was a Flight Lieutenant in RAF uniform complete with sheepskin flying jacket.

“Fishface my dear chap how jolly nice to see you.” drawled Ronny. The sheepskin man turned and spoke “Welcome aboard chaps, good to see you, my names’ Harper and for my sins I’m in charge of this little RAF outpost that we like to call Elizabeth, after the princess you know, although officially she’s known as HSL 121. Now then if you could just pop through that door and make yourself scarce down in the sickbay just until we get underway, then we’ll sort you out with some dry clothes and a nice fresh cuppa ok?”

We did as he said, dropping down four steps into a wide cabin almost the width of the boat, there were two bunks, various white painted cupboards and a small desk and chair.

I took off all my wet clothes, put a blanket around me and sat down on one of the bunks, Ronny did the same and came to sit next to me, bringing his jacket with him and removing his tin of cigarettes and lighter from a top pocket as he did so. We were still lighting our cigarettes when we heard the engines, which had been quietly gurgling since we boarded, start to gently purr and then felt the boat begin to move through the sea.

I looked at Ronny and smiled “good old Fishy eh?”

“Never did get him that medal did we?” he replied.

We had just finished the first cigarette and were lighting the second when a Flight Sergeant came in with two big steaming mugs of tea. “Get your laughing gear round that lads I’ll go and get you something to wear, not going anywhere too smart are you.” He said laughingly, as he left the cabin again.

He returned some minutes latter with the clothes he’d promised and as he placed them on the spare bunk he called them out stores fashion “Roll neck sweaters for the wearing of; two, boiler suits blue aircraftsmen for the use of; two, socks sea boot feet for the warming of; four, get into them lads and I’ll sort you out some wellies, can you both manage with size ten?”

He again left the cabin and as we were getting into the dry clothing I noticed that the engines were now really beginning to purr and we could feel the boat starting to slap down onto the water. “Sounds like she’s starting to open up a bit.” said Ronny, pausing as he pulled on a sock. The Flight Sergeant returned with the Wellington’s.

“Skippers compliments lads. Asks would you like to join him up in the wheelhouse once you’re dressed?”

“Great,” I replied for both of us, “we’ll be up in a minute.”

We climbed back up the four steps and stepped into the wheelhouse, it was dark in there after the light of the cabin, though a few of the instruments were illuminated and various coloured lights glowed on the panels Fishy stood at the wheel, his face lit from below by the instruments, his legs spread apart bracing himself as the boat bucked underneath us. Out here in the wheelhouse we could begin to tell just how fast we were going.

“Crikey you don’t let him loose on a machine like this do you? He used to have problems with a three tonner.” said Ronny.

“Oh I don’t know,” said the Flight Lieutenant “Flight Sergeant Thomas impressed us so much we gave him the job.”

“Hang on,” I said, “what’s this Flight Sergeant bit, you don’t mean he’s now in the RAF do you?”

“Yes that’s right, the Flight Sergeant has transferred over to us.” replied the Flight Lieutenant.

“Well I’ve heard it all now, first he goes out to join the Navy and through some bureaucratic cock up he’s sent to the Artillery and now the minute we turn our backs we find out he’s gone and joined the bloody RAF!” Ronny, Said shaking his head.

“Er if you all don’t mind, perhaps you wouldn’t ‘bleedin’ talk about me like I wasn’t flipping here!” said Fishy glancing down at the compass.

I asked the Lieutenant how long it would take us to get back to our side of the channel and he told us that if we kept this speed up we could do it in less than two hours from where we were. Although once we got a little further out from the French coast he would drop the speed down to about twenty knots and keep a good eye on the radar for surface craft and keep his fingers crossed that there were no U-Boats about.

There was a bit of moonlight now and I asked if it would be ok to go out on deck and have a cigarette. The Lieutenant agreed that it was ok to go on deck but warned me not to smoke and also to stay amidships as there would be plenty of spray coming over the bows at this speed.

Outside by the moonlight I was able to see our saviour for the first time. She was a beautiful craft, I estimated about sixty feet long and probably about twelve foot wide. There were two aircraft style gun turrets mounted one at the far end of the craft and one just behind the wheelhouse. Both were occupied, and the sailor, or should I say airman in the nearest one waved down to me.

The cabin and a lot of the deck area was swathed in bags that looked not unlike sandbags although the material appeared to be waterproof, I guessed they were for protection from machine gun fire. I sat down for a while on the roof of what must have been the sickbay and was enjoying the way the boat leapt over the waves remembering how the fishing boat had battered through them the last time we had done the crossing.

My thoughts were disturbed by Ronny shouting out to me from the wheelhouse door. I went inside and followed Ronny back to the sickbay where we met the Flight Sergeant who pointed us to a tray on which were two mugs of coffee, liberally laced with rum and a plate of corned beef sandwiches.

“Dig in chaps that’s your lot now till we dock.” so saying he left us to it.

After the sandwich and a smoke I went back out on deck and took up my seat again on top of the sickbay. It was still too dark to see anything but I was enjoying the fresh air and the sensation of the craft bouncing over the top of the waves although it was not as dramatic as earlier, the boat having noticeably slowed down.

The wheelhouse door opened and a figure came down the deck towards me. “How are you then mate, blooming knackered I bet?” It was Fishy, and even in the dark I could see him grinning, “Who’d have thought it eh? Us lot turning out to be special operations.”

“Why is that what we are then? I thought I was in the Artillery”

“Cut it out Alan,” he said “you’re the clever one, well you and Ronny and even I know them days are gone for ever. Come on I’m on me break, lets’ go back in and I’ll make a brew for the three of us, we can have a smoke like old times eh?”

We sat in the sickbay having a smoke and drinking the tea that Fishy had made, he was right about the old times bit, the tea was just as bad as he’d always made it.

“This has turned out really well for me you know”, said Fishy “it’s great to be back on a boat again and what a boat eh? Do you know she’ll do nearly forty knots when she’s flat out, I’ve never been on a craft like it.”

Ronny as usual asked all the technical questions and for once showed that he was impressed. It seemed that the boat alternated between genuine Air-Sea Rescue duties and working for Special Services when required. Fishy told us that after he had left us he was taken straight down to the south coast where he was introduced to Flight Lieutenant Harper, and told that he was there to help him find the pick up spot.

Harper had taken Fishy out for the day to let him get the feel of the boat, ready for when the operation took place.

He was immediately impressed with Fishy’s seamanship and explained to him that the boats last number two had been given a boat of his own. He asked Fishy if he was interested in filling the vacant slot? Fishy of course jumped at the chance and so once it had been cleared with the powers that be he was confirmed as the boats number two and promoted to the rank of Flight Sergeant.