He smiled. ‘Well, for one thing, they’ve provided employment for some very awkward customers.’
‘Like the King of the first four hundred?’ I shook my head. ‘The family must be proud of him, fruit salad and all and still time for his Medal of Honour, don’t forget that. All right, tell me the worst. What’s he supposed to do?’
And I couldn’t believe my ears when he did tell me. Fitzgerald and five companions were to enter the harbour at Charlottestown in two-man Rob Roy canoes. The intention was to fix limpet mines on everything in sight and to get out again without being discovered.
‘For God’s sake, Henry, what’s the point? It’s raiding for raiding’s sake,’ I said when he’d finished. ‘They’ll be lucky if there’s anything in the harbour worth bothering with.’
‘Perhaps so and you’re entitled to think that if you want, but let me make one thing clear. Originally this wasn’t our party. Combined Operations are behind it. I only heard about it quite by chance and made immediate representation through channels. I thought of you, naturally, and your unique knowledge of the island and persuaded them to modify their plan.’
‘Well that was nice of you. May I ask who’s in command?’
‘You are by virtue of seniority, but no situation is likely to arise in which you need to exercise such authority. You will land alone and will have your own task to perform. Major Fitzgerald and his men will look after themselves.’
‘As long as he doesn’t start to hear bugles blowing faintly on the wind,’ I said. ‘He looks the kind who wants to die, sabre in hand, trailing clouds of glory if you ask me.’
‘Oh, I think he’ll be sensible. No intelligent man would want to put his head on the block at this stage in the war, would he?’
I laughed out loud – I couldn’t help it. ‘Your sense of irony always was one of your most endearing traits, Henry.’
‘Good, it’s nice to see you smiling again.’ He stood up and rubbed his hands together. ‘And now for a spot of the excellent lunch Mrs Barton and your daily were preparing when I was up there. She gave us forty minutes.’
‘Not me.’ I shook my head, ‘I’ll stay down here for a while, I want to think. One thing you can do – send down Joe St Martin. I might as well get that side of it over. He was never one of my favourite people.’
‘All right, Owen.’ He appeared to hesitate and had the grace to look ever so slightly ashamed as he took another buff envelope from his pocket. ‘You might as well have your D-Section Operation Order.’
I took it from him. ‘Made out in advance I see.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Enjoy your dinner, Henry.’ I watched him go up the track and disappear over the brow of the hill before opening the envelope. Inside was a typical D-Section Operation Order, the entire business reduced to sparse Civil Service English.
Operation Instruction No D 103
For Lieutenant-Colonel Owen Morgan.
Operation: GRAND PIERRE
Field Name: Not necessary.
INFORMATION – Phase 1.
We have discussed with you the possibility of your landing on the island of St Pierre in the Channel Islands to obtain as much information as possible regarding the scope of the enemy project noted in files as NIGGER. You have made it clear that in your view, nothing prevents you from returning to this island which was originally your home.
We feel that information provided by Joseph St Martin should make it relatively easy for you to get in touch with sources on the island from which the information you seek may be readily available.
INFORMATION – Phase 2.
During the time that you are on the island, Major Edward Fitzgerald, Master Sergeant Grant, Sergeant Hagen, Corporals Wallace, Stevens and Lovat, will enter the main harbour at Charlottestown in three Rob Roy canoes with the intention of fixing limpet mines to any vessels they can find. This is the sole purpose of their mission and they must NOT repeat NOT attempt to land or provoke any incidents of a kind liable to alert the enemy to their presence.
In any circumstances calling for a drastic re-appraisal of the situation you, as senior officer, are considered to be in command.
METHOD
It is our information that under the provisions of Hitler’s Kommandobefehl, special service troops falling into enemy hands are still being executed, but we also know of instances where they have simply been put to work in chains. On balance, therefore, if captured, there is a better chance for survival as a soldier than as a spy. For this reason we have decided, in this instance, not to give you a cover story. You will use your own name and rank and identity discs will be provided.
You will be taken to St Pierre on the night of the 25th on MGB 109LT and off-loaded by surf boat at approx. 22.30 hours. Major Fitzgerald and party will be off-loaded half a mile off the harbour entrance at 23.00 hours.
You MUST repeat MUST be picked up first at approximately 02.00 hours and the other party will rendezvous as soon as may be with the MGB after that.
INTERCOMMUNICATIONS
There will be no W/T communication whatsoever. Hand-lamp signals only to be used during pick-up.
WEAPONS
At your discretion, but only that which you consider essential for hand-to-hand combat.
CONCLUSION
You have been sufficiently familiarized with the situation to realize the importance of this mission. Nothing should be allowed to prevent you from obtaining the information you are seeking and if the situation should warrant it, your own mission MUST repeat MUST take precedence over that of Major Fitzgerald’s to the extent of abandoning him and his men if necessary.
NOW DESTROY … NOW DESTROY … NOW DESTROY …
NOW DESTROY.
I struck a match, held it to one corner of the sheet and let it burn. It drifted to the ground and I stamped it to ashes, grinding it into the grass with my heel, then I went back down the track to the beach.
It was plain enough, including the juicy item about the Kommandobefehl, not that it bothered me particularly. My only question for the past five years had not been would they kill me when they got their hands on me, but how. For a memorable two days at Gestapo headquarters at II rue de Saussaies at the back of the Ministry of the Interior in Paris, I had thought my time was up but I’d played small fish and they’d fallen for it. Two days later, I’d jumped from a train taking me to Poland to labour for the Todt Organization along with thousands of other poor wretches.
I went down through the wire and walked along the sand to the water’s edge, thinking about it all, but mainly about Simone out there across the sea, alone in the old house in the hollow among the beech trees lonely from the beginning of time until now.
The line circled in my brain, no end to it. Lonely from the beginning of time until now. It was from a poem she was particularly fond of. Chinese originally and translated by Ezra Pound. By the North gate the wind blows full of sand. I stared out to sea, my heart and brain filled with memories of her and someone called out behind me.
Joe St Martin stood on the far side of the wire and waited and I called to him, ‘You’ve nothing to worry about – come on.’
He came reluctantly, treading on eggs for the first few yards, then seemed to get his confidence back all at once and came on at a quickened pace. He had five years on me, which would