Go In and Sink! (32 page)

‘That seems to apply to everyone in this department, from what I can see of it, sir.’

Browning stood up and said, ‘Now I’ll have my say, gentlemen. I’ve been with the Chiefs of Staff, British and American, and we’ve done a lot of work in the last few days.’

Simeon had momentarily forgotten Marshall. ‘What’s this, sir? I’ve not been told.’

Browning eyed him blandly. ‘I’m telling you now, aren’t I?’ He went on, ‘The last details are all but fixed. We’re going into Sicily in the first two weeks of July. It fits. It’s more or less final.’

Simeon took out his cigarette case. ‘Oh that, sir.’ His hand was shaking as he lit one. ‘I know about
that
.’

‘Good.’ Browning smiled. ‘But before then, there is something more we in this section must do. It will cut corners, and with luck, save lives.’

Simeon sat bolt upright but said nothing.

Browning continued in the same unruffled tone, ‘These radio-controlled bombs are brought down through Italy and assembled at the site where Travis was employed. From there they go by rail and road to the various airfields. Mostly to the east and the Adriatic coast, thanks to our false leaks about a proposed invasion via Greece and the Balkans. But some will go by sea to Sicily to await despatch
to
the Luftwaffe.’ He shrugged. ‘A good supply is already in Sicily, of course, but nowhere near the amount there would be if the enemy knew our exact intentions.’

Simeon said curtly, ‘Well, that’s pretty obvious, sir.’

‘I’m glad. But what you probably did not know, Commander, was that the Sicily storage point is under one command, that of a certain Italian general. Am I right?’ He gestured towards the chart. ‘I knew him well before the war, and during the last one. We were both out here then. On the same side.’ He glanced at Marshall. ‘But for the present circumstances we would still be firm friends.’

Simeon had recovered his composure. ‘Well, I shouldn’t talk too much about
that
, sir!’ He laughed.

‘Oh, but I did. To the Chiefs of Staff, as a matter of fact.’ He allowed his words to sink in. ‘They all agree that we will get the Italians on our side once we invade. Those on our side of the lines, so to speak. The general I spoke of is intelligent. He is also shrewd enough to know that if he co-operates
before
the invasion, his future will be secure, and there will be no piecemeal destruction of his men and his command.’

Simeon half rose and sat down again. ‘
Before
the invasion, sir?’

‘That is what I said. Given a solemn promise, he would be able to take over the whole system of bunkers. Seal ’em off. By the time the Jerries got more supplies of bombs brought from elsewhere …’ He swept a beefy hand across the chart. ‘Bang! John Bull and Yankee Doodle will be enjoying the sunshine in Palermo and Syracuse!’

He turned to Marshall, who had remained silent. ‘Well, what d’you think?’

Marshall nodded slowly. ‘If it can be done, then I agree with you.’

Simeon exploded, ‘
If
it can be done! And who would be entrusted with such a mission, if I might be told
that
, sir?’

Browning smiled, the effort smoothing some of the lines. ‘Me.’

‘But, but——’ Simeon looked round the room wildly. ‘You have no experience of this sort of work, sir!’

‘No? Too old, eh?’ Browning sighed contentedly. ‘Well, some think otherwise.’ He regarded him calmly. ‘If you hop over to the C.-in-C.’s office, his flag captain will fill you in on operational details.’

Simeon groped for his cap and stood up very stiffly.

‘Very well, sir. If it’s all settled, then—’

‘It is.’ He smiled. ‘Definitely.’

As the door closed Browning hurried to a cupboard and produced an unopened bottle.

‘Bourbon. Was given it by a chap on Eisenhower’s staff. Never tried it myself. But today, anything would be just right.’ Some of the spirit slopped across the desk. ‘I’ve waited a long while for this. Just to see his face, damn his bloody impertinence!’

‘You’ll be needing my boat, sir?’

He nodded. ‘Who else?’ He looked away. ‘I’m fond of you. You’re very like David might have become. I’d like to think so anyway.’

Marshall said quietly, ‘Thank you. I appreciate that, sir. Perhaps more than you know.’

Browning beamed at him. ‘I’m glad. After this I think we can pay off U-boat 192. Give her a proper name and allow her more conventional work to do.’

‘What about you, sir?’

‘Well, Simeon is right about one thing, of course. I am getting on a bit.’ He sounded very casual. ‘There has been talk, just talk, so keep it dark as they say, that I will be made
up
to rear-admiral.’ His eyes sparkled. ‘In charge of a submarine base somewhere.’

‘I’m pleased for you, sir. You’ve more than earned it.

‘I’m a blunt man, Marshall, so don’t take my next remarks too badly. You’ve had a bad war so far. Too much in too short a time. The strain is showing, but I expect you know that well enough.’

Normally Marshall would have felt himself rising to his own defence. But this time nothing happened. It was almost like having a great weight lifted from his shoulders.

‘I’ll need a good chap to run the base for me until it’s just as I want it. An
operational
man, not some stuffed shirt from the Admiralty. And later on, I think we might get you an escort group. Let you fight on the surface for a bit. Teach ’em how to kill submarines, instead of the other way round. Think about it. Right now, we’ve one hell of a lot to do.’

Marshall felt dazed. ‘I will, sir.’

‘It’ll be a while yet before I can get my little scheme moving, so I’ve arranged for you and your first lieutenant to be quartered ashore. As you are both on an extended commission, I think it’s the very least I can do. How is he, by the way?’

Marshall wrenched his mind back to Gerrard and the submarine. How he had felt the tension during their return passage. The unspoken barrier between Gerrard and Devereaux. Even Frenzel had been in some way involved. But for the girl he might have had it out with them. He was not sure about that either.

‘He’s fine.’

‘Good. He did a fine job in getting you off. I’ve put him in for a decoration.’ He grinned. ‘Too.’

Before Marshall could speak he added, ‘Now be off with
you
. I’m going to have another drink, maybe several, and bask in my petty victory.’

As Marshall left the room he saw that Browning was staring out of the window, his eyes moist, perhaps from looking too long at the sun. But he doubted it.

The army fifteen-hundredweight jerked to a halt, yellow dust enveloping the cab in a dense cloud. The driver, a bronzed youngster, wearing only his shorts and steel helmet, gestured towards a white-walled building at the roadside.

‘That’s the place you want, sir. Sorry I can’t wait to give you a lift back to Alex.’

Marshall climbed down and slapped some of the dust from his shirt. The soldier was somehow typical, he thought. Homely and reliable. Young, but not young any more. The Eighth Army desert rat insignia on the dented door told its own story. He and others like him would soon be fighting ashore in Sicily if Browning’s information proved final.

He tossed him a packet of cigarettes. ‘Thanks, soldier. I’ll have to manage on my flat feet.’

The man grinned. ‘“Duty Frees”, thanks a lot.’ He looked at the sky. ‘The flies’ll eat you alive before you get fifty paces, sir!’ He let in the gears and roared away along the road, dust and sand spewing from the wheels in a miniature tornado.

The road was very straight, so that the isolated building looked even more remote. Marshall stared at it thoughtfully. It was not unlike the police post, except it was larger.
He
remembered Cain’s sudden alarm when he had dropped his grenade. The sightless eyes staring into the gun flashes. Smith screaming at him to shoot. And the girl. Motionless under the light.

An army Redcap sauntered through a gateway and saluted. ‘Can I help, sir?’ He ran his eyes over Marshall’s shoulder straps.

He was not unlike the provost sergeant on that terrible airstrip in Scotland, Marshall thought. So much had happened. So short a time.

He held out a pass. ‘I have permission to visit a patient in the hospital.’

‘Ah, that’s different, sir.’ The man turned back into the shadow of the wall. ‘We don’t get many visitors out here. They’re not encouraged, as you might say.’ He pointed up a driveway. ‘Inside the double doors. Ask again.’

Once, when he glanced back, Marshall saw the Redcap was on the telephone beside the gates. Security. That word again.

Inside the cool entrance it was much the same. Pass and identity card. Polite, yet giving a vague hint of irritation at having their solitude disturbed.

It was no ordinary hospital, nor had he expected it to be. It was kept for those who had been hurt, physically or mentally, in the unseen war of espionage.

‘Follow me, sir.’ A messenger marched along a polished corridor where some Egyptian orderlies were working with brooms.

He said, ‘Look at ’em. ’Bin polishing that bit for an hour, to my knowledge.’ He opened a door. ‘This is the doctor, sir.’

‘What can I do for you?’

The doctor was like a small, neat bird. As he opened
and
closed the front of his white coat beneath an overhead fan he could have been ruffling his feathers.

‘Mrs. Travis. I’d like to see her. If I can.’

‘Yes. I see.’ He waved to a chair. ‘You must be the submarine commander who …’ He grimaced. ‘Well, we mustn’t discuss it.’

‘Is she going to be all right?’

The doctor looked up at the fan. ‘We can but hope. Of course, it’s nothing physical in the usual way. I won’t bore you with a mouthful of technical jargon, most of which is pure supposition anyway, but just let me say this. She should never have been sent on that job. But now that’s behind her, and it’s no use adding recriminations.’

‘You mean she needs rest? Time to recover?’

The doctor eyed him searchingly. ‘This is not merely a visit in the name of duty? I had a feeling. But one cannot be sure in such matters.’ He shrugged. ‘To be frank, I don’t know what she needs. She might rally. She could slip right under, like so many I’ve handled here.’ He stood up and walked to the window. ‘Come here.’ He pulled down the slats of the sun-blind. There was a small courtyard below, partly shaded, and made colourful by several large stone jars of flowers. A solitary figure stood beside one of the jars, staring at it with fixed concentration. He wore an army battledress blouse and pyjama trousers. He was about twenty years old.

‘Lieutenant er, well never mind his name, of the Long Range Desert Group. A good brain, and before the war he was getting started as an architect. Now, he doesn’t speak, nor does he react to anything I tell him about his home and background. It is as if he has inwardly rejected everything. Ceased to exist.’

Marshall watched the figure with something like despair.
‘Wouldn’t
it be kinder to fly him to England, get him away from here?’

The doctor looked at him and dropped the slats into place. ‘I dare not. Those flowers are the only link I’ve found with him. I don’t know what they mean, or even if he sees them. But it’s a start. After three months, it’s all I’ve got.’ A telephone buzzed impatiently and he added, ‘I’m just warning you. Preparing you.’ He picked up the telephone. ‘The room at the far end. Number twenty.’

Marshall walked to the end of the corridor, but as he hesitated outside the door it opened noiselessly and a severe looking nursing sister examined him for several seconds.

‘I’m Lieutenant Commander Marshall,’ he began.

She nodded. ‘I know. We’ve been informed. Good show.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Don’t stay long. She may want you to go immediately. They do sometimes.’

Marshall stared at her. Hating her.
They do sometimes
. It made it sound as if she had already been condemned, like the man in the courtyard. Looking at the flowers.

The sister added, ‘I’ll be out here if you need anything.’ She stood aside and closed the door behind him.

She was lying in a white cot, her head and shoulders propped up on pillows, her arms lying straight down her sides on the sheets. She turned slowly towards him, but her eyes were completely hidden by the dark sun-glasses Like a blind child, he thought.

‘It’s you.’ One hand moved upwards, pulling the sheet closer to her throat. ‘They told me you had come.’ There was no emotion in her voice, nor any expression on her lips.

Marshall moved to the bedside and sat down on a chair. It was still warm from the sister’s occupation.

‘I wish I’d had time to buy something for you. But I
had
to rush like mad to get a pass, and find some transport.’ He wanted to reach out and hold the hand nearest him. ‘How are you?’

‘I can watch the window from here.’ She made as if to point across the room but let her hand drop again. ‘There’s a tree. I keep looking to see if there are any birds, but——’ She lapsed into silence.

He leaned forward slightly and saw her flinch. Like that other time.

He said, ‘You look marvellous. Even in service pyjamas.’ But she did not smile. ‘It’s like an oven outside.’ He felt the despair crowding through him. He was useless. Clumsy and useless.
A machine
.