The Long road to war and love

 

This book is entirely fiction, any reference to people or places is entirely incidental.

The long road to long road to war and  love

Chapter 1 The  Summer  of 1939 had started with wet following late frosts that persisted until early summer when storms threatened to break out across the Kingdom. None of this bode well for Steve Mackintosh and his adventure holiday to Jersey with the 1st New Haven scout group.Coming up to eighteen already a healthy nearly six foot young man with a fine physique with jet black hair, he loved sport and the challenges that his scouting had posed to him. Growing up he loved the outdoors. He and his elder brother often played on the local light railway whose world war one engines pulled sand from one pit to another on jinking narrow gauge rails. They got to know the drivers sat in their armoured cabins amongst the smell, peering out through the narrow drivers slit amongst noise and heat of the ancient engine that powered them. Sometimes grabbing a cheeky lift down to the local brook to fish for Gudgin and Sticklebacks with bent pins on strings. Or challenge each other how far they could climb the tall elder trees that grew along its banks. All those days were memories. His brother Kenny, four years older,had been seduced by a visiting naval presentation and the stories of world wide travel shown on the flickering black and white film sharp dressed sailors with gold crossed torpedoes badges on their arms to life on the high seas was now twenty one was serving in the royal navy. For Steve this was his last year he could belong before he had to either leave or become a leader, He had belonged since he was ten, going from cubs up to scouts with help of his loving parents Tom and Hilda, he had worked hard earning tuppence a day very often leaving in the dark delivering newspapers to the local villages around where he lived, the weak battery powered headlight showing a wavering beam ahead through the winter mornings, All this as well as keeping up with his higher education work and the hope of a place at the end of the summer at the college of further education in northampton. He wanted to know more about the mechanics and engineering he had learned making bikes from spare parts and fiddling with anything mechanical and although he had grown out of it his Mechano were he had made all sorts of weird and wonderful contraptions, even a two speed gearbox for one of the powered creations. He had also earned him the respect of his peers and although he did not know it, the stepping stones to danger and adventure he couldn't even envisage as he wanted for the bus to come into view. The group fifteen strong was due to leave along with its leaders Mr Aldridge also a teacher looking slightly incongruous in his huge moustache and short trousers who had a reputation for being pretty handy with the slipper to punish those that strayed, along with his portly wife who came along as the cook and if need be nurse the sick,or injured or comfort any home sick. The plan was to walk parts of the rugged north coast of the forty six square mile island, exploring many crooks and crannies and little fishing villages nestled in each reentrant, that sat just twelve miles of the french Cotentin coast, planning to meet the local lads, camping out if the weather held using their burgining navigation skills, learning to read maps how to use a compass, lighting fires without matches, all adding to a final adventure badge to the armfull of that marked Steves progress though his scouting carrera. Rumour had it that there were girl guides as well on the island, causing long discussions. How many there are? Would they be staying together along with the budding excitement that they might get to meet them or even talk to them. Steve liked the idea and could not help as the years passed the feeling of attraction he felt when he was near them hearing their tinkling voices and a crafty look at curves that boys didn't have, with sometimes annoying fits of giggles leaving him perplexed as to what they found so amusing. They planned on catching the overnight ferry from Portsmouth on the ancient steam packet SS Shepperton, that chugged its way belching smoke from its coal fired engines for the fifteen hours back and forth for the one hundred and eighty odd miles through the night to the island's main port of St Helier and back again the next day via the neighbouring island of Guernsey to drop of supplies and pick up homeward bound passengers. Armed with the family's brown suitcase, rucksack stuffed, with his uniform clean and pressed. A new necker, his prize compass brought as a Christmas present along with his knife, lanyard around his neck tucked into his shorts trouser pocket along with his knife, lanyard around his neck tucked into his shorts trouser pocket and finally some sandwiches wrapped in greaseproof paper pressed into his hand, along with  a ten shilling note and a warning to look after it by his worried mother. Seeing him to the door she stood looking anxious, wiping her hands on her pinafore, as Steve dodging her motherly kiss waved a cherry goodby and set off to walk the few minutes to the bus stop on the Moorsend end lane where the coach hired from the local company with the unfortunate name of  R.Soles would pick him up, It had seen better days the wood showing through the green wood panel on its cream side, often doubling a parcel delivery service and occasionally even a chicken or two in a wicker basket by the driver as  it trundled through the local villages to the main Portsmouth road and back providing a regular life line to the local area.

Bang on time the ancient bus round the corner stopping for the excited Steve clambering on to the smiles from Mr and Mrs Aldridge and the cheers of the boys already on the bus.

With a crunch  from the engine's gearbox they lurched forward on the start of the adventure.

The trip down the post was uneventful, each of the boys excitedly swapping what they had brought with them as the Hampshire countryside slid by looking green and peaceful in the afternoon sun. 

It seemed no time at all that they passed through the busy Portsmouth city centre through the dock gates and their first look at the SS Shepperton, she was an old lady surrounded by boxes as derricks lifting boxes of all sizes in net bags onto the fordeck. A sailor stood waving his arms indicating where the bus should stop, Mr Aldridge urged everyone for patience as they stopped and all standing at once grabbing suitcases and rucksacks, eager to chamber the rugged gangplank onto the ship and started to bundle out of the bus onto the hard.

On board everything looked busy and confused as they were shown along the wood covered deck, stepping over the door combings after clambering down the steep stairs clinging onto the wooden handrail to their cabins.

Each of the boys were shown into a room with four bunk beds. Steve quickly assessed that a bottom bunk was the best bet, a lesson learned from his mate Mick, dumped his kit and waited for the others as they bundled in the crowded cabin.

Late afternoon found Steve and the boys leaning on the  wooden handrail as the deck started to vibrate as the engines started, deckhands were busy unhitching heavy hawsers ropes from bollards, the trembling  turned to a vibrate, water frothed around the stern as the ship's propellor churned the sea and the bow of the ship and gap with the dock started to widen. In no time at all they were clear with a few dock hands waving them off, the R Soles bus starting to shrink intro the general busy backdrop as the ship started making its way through the port crammed with warships of every size and shape; He could not help wondering if his brother Ken was on any of them as they had not heard from him for several weeks. It all seemed to Steve underlining the general feeling that there was a whiff of war in the air.

As soon as they were clear the ship headed out into the solent. The coast  line started to merge into a jumble of dark blue outline the isle of white on the other side now seem a lot closer little white buildings and red roofs could clearly be seen as they headed out into the chanel proper rounding in the bulge that was Bembridge the land started to shrink into the a distance line of white cliffs. The ship's movement reacted to the deeper water as they headed south west for Jersey dipping its bow into the deep troughs, a bell rang from somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship signalling that dinner was served down in the main passenger lounge. This turned out to be a simple fair of bangers and mash with a large pot of tea on the table that tried to inch this way and that on the table as the ship reacted to the waves. Dinner over Steve suddenly let out an enormous yawn and he suddenly realised just how tired he was, Mr Aldridge after a walk around the table to see if all was well had retired so Steve could think of nothing better than to follow his example,crawling into his bunk cloths and kit in a heap at his side and without even cleaning his teeth the gentle rumble of the engine and rocking of the boat soon lulling him into a deep sleep as darkness fell and the ship headed into the gathering gloom.

When he woke to scrapping and the noise of boots from above on the deck. Surprised to find the others had all gone, scrambling to get his clothes on and found his way via the smell of cooking to the dining room to join into scrambled egg and toast with jam declaring it was Robert's finest on its sticky label. Mr Aldridge seemed engrossed in the ships paper and Mrs Aldridge  was apparently away attending to a seasick scout in one of the cabins,

Gobbling down his food he raced up the gangway and up the stairs two at a time to emerge into a bright sunny morning with a brisk chilly wind that blew his hair about and wishing he had put his jacket on, To his surprise they were nearly there, he looked for the first time at St Heliers dock with its jumble of yachts and fishing smacks tied up. The Sheppereton was inching its way along a long concrete and stone mole with large bags of woven rope hanging down to prevent damage as the ship docked. On the front and centre was the grand hotel, 

bollards' spaced along the edge, once secured a gang plank soon slid across to join the two together and there was general hubbub and swell of movement as the scouts and the passenger grabbed their belongings clambering to join the throng waiting to disembark. Mr and Mrs Aldritdge were waiting to marshal everyone together on the deck where once counted, followed the other passengers off the ship towards an expectant man in a green pullover waving his  scouts hat  enthusiastically in the air Indicating he was our welcome party. They had arrived.

The green clad hat waving welcomer turned out to be the chief scout to the islands group wearing his distinct red and white necker to match the islands flag rushed forward through the disembarking passengers to welcome us with a vigorous handshake to Mr and Mrs Aldridge and a beaming smile to the rest ro complete his welcome. After a few words with their  leader ushered them  all away from the ship to a side road off the Grand where a local coach was waiting to take them on to the campsite a thirty minute ride along the narrow winding road to the Rozel campsite on the north eastern end of the island 

Where they found a large tent with a row of camp beds for sleeping in and an adjacent rather tatty building with a few cracked window panes that they learned after a number of belching noises provided tepid water for showering and the thunder boxes for their bodily needs.

As soon as they were settled they sat to hear all about their new found home learning more about the Island officially called the Bailiwick of Jersey. It was the largest Island of the Channel Islands. 9 miles wide by 5 miles long and is made up of 12 parishes. Just 14 miles from the French coast and 85 miles as the seagull flies south of the English coast. English was the main language spoken. Other languages include Portuguese, Polish and Jèrriais, It was a self-governing dependency of the British Crown and is was not  part of the UK and not  represented in the UK parliament. The King is the Head of State for Jersey. The Lieutenant Governor is His​ Majesty's personal representative.

On day two they set off on a five mile walk up through the winding lanes to the north coast. Steve, being one of the eldest and having his own compass, was given leading the group to Le Coup bay and the spectacular view west along the rugged coast towards Rozell, the first fishing village. Stopping to eat Mrs Aldridges sandwiches and admiring the spectacular rugged coast line before returning on tired legs to rest and spend the evening around a wood fire singing all the familiar scouting songs usually twists on well known lyrics like “ on top of old spaghetti” and In “the quartermaster's store” and “ old macdonald's farm.” Day two turned out to be memorable when two cars turned up disgorging a posse of girl guides. Leaving the 1st New Haven scouts open mouthed and for the first time silent!  It turned out that the word was out and the guides had decided they couldn't afford to miss the opportunity to meet fifteen like minded people ,even if they were boys!  Silence descended until it became almost pregnant until the guides official meeting was arranged with the scouts lined up and the line of guides walking past shaking each hand as they did so. For many the eyes did not meet only a shy smile as they passed by or a weak shake of a limp handshake and a mumbled introduction. The older of each group with more confidence and probably a burgeoning interest in the opposite sex, looked up with a smile. Offering a confident hand, Steve looking along the advancing line spotted a girl smaller than her peers and to Steve's eye beautifully formed under her  frumpy guide uniform, at last she came before him, she was petite, she had dancing  friendly eyes and a ready smile showing her neat white teeth in a friendly smile as she held out her small warm hand that Steve thought  held for a fraction longer than necessary. He was smitten! But as quickly as the passing had happened the guides retreated to the safety of their group, with much talking a giggling, he looked across to try and catch her eye, but to no avail as she was in earnest conversation with her friends and the moment was nearly lost except for the invitation extended by their stout leader Mrs Murphy to a barn dance later in the week in town at the guides HQ. 

The following days seemed to blur to Steve whether he was walking or making camp lighting a fire, chopping wood or rigging a shelter. His mind wandered to the encounter with the girl with dancing eyes and ready smile. The week was coming to a close and with the dance looming the local scouts passed word that they would be there as his anticipation grew. The guides, obviously much better looked after asis suitable for the fairer sex had the handsome St Peter's parish hall on La Rue des Fosses, warm and well lit. Their leaders obviously made an effort with a wind up record player, nibbles of crisps, pigs in blankets, a lemon drizzle cake with jugs of what turned out to be homemade elderflower lemonade. The two sides stood backs against the wall on opposite sides of the room, with a leap of his heart Steve saw that same pair of laughing eyes were looking straight at him! She looked stunning with her hair pinned up in a french pleat wearing a lovely summer dress that hugged her slim waist. Without ado their respective leaders determined to get the dance going organised the first dance a strip the willow, followed by a “dosey doe,” the ice well and truly broken the mixed up groups took to the goodies, giving Steve a chance to sidle up as the apple his eye  as she  reached for a slice of cake, with bated breath he touched her hand causing a laugh as she turned to him asking if he was try to chat her up, laughing back through a half eaten cake he grinned saying yes and yes again, asking her name, .”you first” she retorted  he said “Steve, Steve Mackintosh” and you, with her lovely smile she said” Georgiana ,Georgiana  Mc Donald”, that's great Steve  quipped so we are both jocks! They both roared with laughter, Taking their food seemed as if naturally they sat down together on and  talked and talked, he his plans for the future and her working in a local business managing an ancient telephone switchboard, only to break for a dance when he made sure they were partnered and he could slip his arm in hers or hold her hand as they danced the night away enjoying each other's company locking eyes and laughing. There was no doubt in Steve's mind that the feeling he had for this lovely young woman he wanted to carry on forever. The night was coming to an end and he felt he could not let her hand go knowing that this was it, with a frog in his throat said “will you write to me?” Her eyes glazed, she couldn't bring herself to speak and nodded her consent, taking the slip of paper he gave her with his address she crumpled it in her palm. Looking into her eyes said “I will be  back, I promise”, instinctively she threw her arms around his neck standing on tiptoes lifting her five foot frame kissed him, pressing  her lips to his for what seemed an eternity, finally breaking free slipping from his arms, looked around to see the the room full of guides and scouts standing  in silence mouths agarest  as the their hands finally dropped away the spell  broken by Mr Aldridges deep voice breaking the spell with his booming voice saying loudly “that's enough of that,  back on the bus!”

CHAPTER 2

On the bus trip back Steve bore the brunt of  cheers and jibes of the night's encounter with Georgiana  Slightly embarrassed but also happy, but flushed with the new feeling he had never had before. He slid down in his seat thinking of those laughing eyes and her soft warm lips when she kissed him as he watched the dark shapes of trees and houses speed by. He must try and see her before the return trip in the morning, but how? He didn't know where she lived, knew only she worked in an office, but where? Did not have even he address! Or know where the nearest telephone box was neve mind her number, if her parents had one! 

That last night was a long one, unable to sleep, his mind kept churning over of  the memory and what to do next, finally drifting off to a restless night before the dawn chorus started. Friday dawn bright and sunny there was no time to think about anything under pressure from Mr and Mrs Aldrudge to pack their belongings, the camp beds needed folding and stored in the hut, Put in charge of four scouts and the large “180”pounder  ex army tent a mixture of huge unwieldy canvas and conglomeration of poles and ropes  had to come down and be stored. Cooking pots and pans cleaned and stored. The list seemed endless. They had only just finished, lined up and counted, before the bus turned up for  the run back to the port SS Shepperton and the trip home. At his wits end Steve just could not fathom an answer except an outside chance that she would know the ships sailing times and that they were leaving on the turn of the tide on the  friday morning. Could she, or would she or be there ? Or had it just been an unforgettable introduction to adulthood? The bus sped south in what was a lovely summer morning. The flowers were out on the well kept verges, fields of  lovely light brown Jersey cows seemed content browsing away on the lush green grass, forced to stop once to negotiate passing another vehicle  they were in no time at all in St Helier.  Finally the bus stopped, they had arrived and the scramble for clothes and kit began as they clambered off the bus and joined the queue. The ship was very busy, crain's swung to and fro loading crates boxes of all shapes and sizes, even a couple of  terrified  bleating sheep in an open sided crate with a large Guernsey sign painted on its side in black letters was loaded. A uniformed crew stood by the gangplank checking tickets and numbers. Steve's hopes were fading as the queue diminished, he could not help scanning the hard and esplanade for her. But there was no sign, his heart jumped  once when he thought he saw her and plummeted when it was not, his worst fears were coming true, perhaps she had done it for a dare, Or simply saw the impracticality of them meeting again and had shut her mind to a great experience until the deed was done and he had gone.

Safely on board the clock on the Grand hotel struck Midday and they all jumped when the ship gave a long load blast on its horn to warn those running out of time that she was leaving, ropes were singled up and the deck started its familiar throbbing as the engines were started. The gang plank was still in place when a taxi came hurtling around the corner screeching to a halt made Steves heart  jumped as he watched with bated breath as the door opened, only to see a middle age couple and two children appear, grab their luggage from the boot and ran lunging them behind ran for the ship and up the gangway. A smiling, patiently waiting dockyard worker gave the thumbs up to the waiting crew and the gangway was swiftly slid back on board as the water started to churn and the last of the ties to the shore were severed. Steve had never felt so missable as the ship went astern away from the shore, something red caught his eye, a figure was running along the esplanade and onto the dock as the ship, now a good one hundreds from the shore, was turning towards clear water.  The figure, he was sure, was Georgiana kept running to the very edge of the dock to the end of the dock frantically waving a head scarf. As the ship gathered way, for a long time she watched as the ship slowly disaperard from view around the headland, her arms dropped in despair at this last chance, she turned away with tears in her eyes. She had been held up at work and now it was too late. In despair she walked slowly back towards her office, hands in pockets felt the crumpled note with Steve's address on it. Opening it saw the first line of the address 223 Vandyke road. She could not imagine any road so long it had a house numbered  223, but 223 was also the first part of her office telephone number. Georgiana looked at it for a long time folding the note up again hoping the coincidence was going to be her lucky number. On the ship Steve was beside himself, she had come, she did want to see him again, she did love him! He would write as soon as he heard from her, she had come, she did love him, the words going around and around in his head as he clutched his arms across his body as a sort of self comforting, he made his way to the stern of the ship looking over the stern rail to the frothing sea his gazed into the white foam for a long time slowly raising his eyes following the wake looking back as the island slowly sank below the horizon.

Chapter 3 

Arriving home on the Friday, and the welcome from his mother fussing around him like a mother bee asking how it had been. Steve had humered her by sketching out their adventure to the tiny island they had barely heard of, but too shy to say he had met a girl, a very special girl and one day he was going back to find her. Mother was busy, barely listening, asking if he was hungry and demanding  his dirty washing for her on the Monday wash day. His father, much more circumspect, shook his hand and with a worried look and one hand on his shoulder gave him a brown envelope.

Steve would be eighteen on the first of September and with the talk of war was swirling around the newspapers with large black letters declaring it was imminent as well as the stern carefully modulated voice of the BBC newsreader announcing on the  six o'clock news on the radio that the Germans had marched into Polish territories along its eastern border, including West Prussia, Poznan, Upper Silesia, as well as Free City of Danzig. The Sudetenland and Austria had all been swallowed up too. The prime minister Neville Chamberlain was flitting back and forth to Germany and grainy pictures on the front pages showed him triumphantly holding a piece of paper flapping in the wind outside the Imperials Airways aircraft after arriving back from his discussion with Adolf Hitler.

His father had expected an envelope to contain call up papers for his second son. But it wasn't to his relief it was an invitation for Steve to join the September intake at the Northampton college of further education to study electrical engineering. Steve never saw the relief on his fathers face, who had just missed the first war because of his protected job of Clerk to the works for the local council, but the consequences were still felt across the land. He carefully read the letter, the day started at 9am sharp  to his surprise. It was only a four day week  finishing on a Thursday, there were also two free periods when they were expected to bone up on anything they needed. His mother fussed about in the kitchen declaring  dinner was ready  from the scullery. They sat at the little linoleum table they used now that  his brother has left home. His future was the centre of discussion. He would give up his paper round of course and reluctantly the scouts too, it was evident  anyway to all his manhood was now beckoning him, with dark shades around his chin and hair that seemed to be sprouting out everywhere, on his chest, arms and legs.   

The conversation spread to how he was going to get there, it was only about nine miles and both he and his father had cycled many many miles through the past summers, so that was his first thoughts but this was vetoed by his mother declaring that  it would be ok in the autumn but with winter just around the corner it would have to be the bus, making her point by explaining to  him he would have papers and books to carry as well as his lunch and a flask to boot,so it would have to be the bus and he would have to find a weekend job to pay for it!  Continuing to make her point that father might earn the money, but she ruled the roost, he would have to start wearing the long trousers she had brought for his birthday and to make do with his brother's jacket to replace his schoolblazer for the time being. Steve's head was spinning; the only letter he had hoped to have was a letter  from Georgiana, even though he knew a carrier pigeon or even a  De Havilland Rapide biplane that flew the mail to the islands would be quick enough for her to write and post a letter could  have beat the ferry home.

His Birthday Came and went, he tried on his new long trousers and was not sure he was ever going to get used to the feel of cloth against his legs. His father with his connections around the town had spoken to Mr Dilimore, the local removal company;  boss, they always needed an extra pair of hands on the busy weekends.  So a job would be waiting for him. Scanning the bus time tables on a lamppost a bus ran from nearby Luton through the town on the hour so getting to the college should not be a problem.

September the 2nd the BBC  interrupted the morning light program with news that the prime minister would be making an announcement at eleven o'clock. Everyone knew of the recent events in Europe and was worried Steve even saw his parents cuddling in the kitchen, something he had not seen before. The morning dragged on and his father had gone to work muttering “the world has to go on”, but his mother seemed to have suspended her normal busy morning and sat holding Steve's hand over at the kitchen table looking worried, no doubt about her son's future.

At the appointed hour the music stopped and they were told that the prime minister was going to speak to the nation, a sound of mush and static filled the room for what seemed ages before the prime minister started to speak in his slightly fail but educated voice to say that if the German people had not stopped their illegal invasion of Poland by eleven o'clock then a state of war would exist between the two counties and that as no such assurance had been received then a state of war did exist.

The rest of the day was about what was going to happen next? His mother went out to speak to their neighbours who were all out on their front porches, in fact it seemed the whole street was out in the road. Steve had never seen anything like it. His father came home shortly after as all work had been suspended for the day, people scanned the sky as if German planes would come zooming over to bomb them, but after an hour or so  it obvious that was not going to happen, they started to disperse and it all became a bit of an anticlimax! The days after that all became a bit of a blur, the new term at the “tech” would start the eighth day war or not. On those first few weeks Steve didn't realise it but he was stepping out into the world on his own, catching the bus finding his way to the college with his new satchel full of things he thought he would need, but as it turned our he did not need any as he and his new colleagues were shown around, the classrooms, the practical workshops with equipped with benches, bunson burners, a vice or two and dozens of tools of all shapes and sizes hung on pegs on the sheets of ply fixed to the walls. Where the dining room was, when they could break for lunch. Finally sitting down in a classroom to be told by a portly and Steve's eye, old teacher with white hair and what looked like a false leg who introduced himself as Tom Pacey about the curriculum. They were informed they should call him Mr Pacey as a nod to their new status he would use their first names, what was expected of them and what they really needed to have with them. It was explained that the theory lessons would be taken by a variety of teachers  who they would meet in due course. This caused a little worm of worry to pop into his head that his maths was not very good and he knew  this was his weak point and he might struggle. On the bus home he wondered if Georgiana would write soon. Tired out he slept like a log that night dreaming of a pretty girl with laughing eyes and a ready smile, in his dream he never seemed to be able to hold her outstretched hands .

A week later a letter arrived! Steve arrived home and found it laying on the dark wood dining room table standing like as his father would say a tanner on sweeps arse, it was obviously for him and also obviously written in a neat female hand, with a Jersey stamp to boot, snatching it up he made to take it upstairs to read but his mother called from the kitchen asking “ who is the letter  from Stephen” using his full name meaning she wanted to know more! ”Oh! Just someone I met who said they had some Jersey stamps I could have for my collection Steve said in as casual voice as possible”, quickly making his way up to his room before he was interrogated more,

Dear Steve,  I am so so sorry that I missed you before you sailed, I simply could not get away and hope that you will forgive me this once. I can't stop thinking of our first  and last night, our dancing and  that kiss I can't forget. I got into quite a lot of bother from our leader and later from my mother when she knew her daughter had been kissing. I think she said “snogging”  in public with a boy she had only just met. Not to mention the other girls  who I think are only jealous giggling and talking about us behind my back. You were in the Jersey Gazette with the other scouts and mother made me point which one was you.  Each day now seems a month long  and I hope you will write back as soon as you get this. My life seems empty, my friends keep asking me to go out, but I can't find it in myself to make the effort. I have no idea how and when we can meet again , I know my parents would never allow me to travel on my own and if they could it would cost something like £12.00 one way, that would take me forever to save that up. Is there any way you can come here  ? Will we ever be together?

All my love Georgiana. xxx

Steve read the lines again and again and lost all sense of time. The letter even  smelled of her; he thought until his father called up the stairs breaking the spell  that his dinner was ready. As soon as he sat down his mother asked how many stamps his new found Jesery friend had sent him? “ It looked like a girls hand too,” she commented.” Are there many girls stamp collectors then?”  Steve could feel his face going red with embarrassment under the bombardment of questions, he glanced at his father, and saw he had a rye smile on his face. Who then rested his hand on Steve's arm and gently asked “ have you met someone  son? “ Steve could not bring himself to speak, just nodding in agreement. When you're ready his dad coached “ tell us about her, we would love to know and no more secrets. Having not seen the letter he asked in all innocence “ does she live locally? No! Steve said  finding his voice “she lives in Jersey, he blurted out ,we love each other! And I'm going back as soon as I can to marry her ” this was met with stunned silence, Steve mumbled he was not hungry pushing back his chair with a screech on the tile floor hurried out and up to his bedroom. Both his parents sat in silence before his father said “blimey talk about jumping in both feet first!” His mother could only say, shaking her head “well I never” over and over again. “How on earth is that ever going to happen?” I should not  worry his father ruminated, it's a holiday romance. I'm sure it will pass, he will find someone else, it will all blow over in a week or two.

They could not Know how wrong they were. Steve knew she was right were they ever going to get back together, but he just could not say that it would break their hearts and he would find a way, his course at the tech was only three years, after that as a qualified engineer he should be able to get an engineers job anyway couldnt he? It might even be on a jersey he naively thought.

His next problem was that he had no paper envelopes or anything else, they were all down stairs in the Welsh dresser in the lounge, where his mother kept all her table her best table cloth and silver cutlery as well some cut glass wine glasses that only came out at christmas  So he had no choice that despite being more tired than he could ever remember,  he had to stay awake until the house was quiet and sneak down to get the “makings” for his reply. Once written he could buy a  tuppenny stamp from the post office the next or following day. By the time he had finished it was nearly midnight and despite his tiredness had a long look at the photograph she had sent him before his eyes closed as sleep overtook him.

My Darling Georgiana he wrote, I am feeling the same as you that magical night has changed my life , i miss you more that |I can only say in this letter I just can't seem to think of anything else except I'm sure we'll be together one day. My parents were a bit taken aback  when your letter arrived and  my mother asked me who it was from.  I have never had a girlfriend before , never mind  falling in love wanting to marry my first one ! We will just have to be patient until we find a way. My course at the Tech is only three years, it seems a lifetime now but it will soon pass, then I can get a job either here or on Jersey, by that time also we will be nineteen and no matter what people may say, I think we will free to marry and have a home of our own. ( is that how it is on Jersey?)

It's great to have your address  darling now so I can see where you live on the island  but not where you work so I can look it up and know where you are in the day.

Will I be able to talk to you at  work without getting you into trouble now that I have your telephone number?  I can always call using my own  name so you could say sorry it's a wrong number or something. What do you think?

The war did not seem to be doing much and the furore of the first few days soon lapsed into a glance at the family's paper to see what was happening in Europe .The biggest thing seemed to be the Germans had invaded Norway . There  was definitely more air activity and he was getting quite good at identifying different types. Especially the Spitfires  with their unmistakable Rolls Royce  Merlin engine and whistling superchargers. Autumn changed to winter and with the new year .All hell let loose when the German army suddenly crossed the borders into France, Belgium and the low countries in massive strength. The British army fell back until it was pinned at Dunkirk where the   massive effort operation Dynamo it had been called  got thousands home off the beaches. Everyone was worried we were next!

The spring turned into summer, condensation trails crisscrossed  the sky as the RAF fought with the Luftwaffe, as  our young men tried to kill their young men.

His father read the paper avidly about the progress of the bombing that was happening in and around our coasts , all of it seemed a bit remote to  Steve in their  quiet market town. Thinking about a bike he had to repair and that he was due another letter for Georgina, unlocked the  door to be met by his mother. She looked pale and grave, near to tears she said it's  bad news Steve the Germans  have invaded the channel islands! Steve's brain took a few seconds to digest what he had been told, his knees nearly buckled as he took a step back. It's true his mother blurted out its was on the  BBC  news!  Jersey and the islands had been invaded!!  

Steve was  beside himself; her last letter had been two weeks  ago full of love as always as well as the stuff he had asked for. 

She had said she worked for Youngs ballast and hard core based near Ronz at the very top of the island and only  three miles from when she lived in the St Marys Village off the Rue Mahier road. Her family house was called windy corner because it was on the north western corner of the village and unprotected  from the sea caught all the wind and weather. She said she normally rode her bike to work ,but in the wet or winter “Youngies” secretary Rachel would pick her up in her little french car and yes he could telephone her,  It would be lovely to hear his voice just  “use his name and if she could not talk she would just say sorry you have the wrong number.”

It didn't seem possible now there must be a mistake, he thought realising at the same time that it was not. His world collapsed. He was inconsolable by his parents' attempts to comfort him. He took to his bedroom  sobbing his heart out. His  anxious mother standing listening in anguish at the bottom of the stairs in torment to hear her son in so much distress. Later in the evening she ventured  stairs upstairs, timidly knocking on his door and asked if he was ok. His croaking voice from inside said yes I'm coming down. When he appeared  he sat down heavily in the scullery chair, his eyes red and swollen. He was powerless , would she be ok? Had she written a letter before the Germans arrived? Whatever was  going to happen next!  That and a dozen other questions filled his mind. For days,  he could not bring himself  to go to the Tec, struggling to raise the interest to get himself  up in  the mornings  to catch the bus, But slowly he started to come to terms with  the logic that he could not  have seen her anyway until he was old enough or had enough the money, surely  the Germans would be kicked out by soon . Wouldn't they?.

The last letter Steve hoped for never arrived and the phone line was dead. Steve coasted through his second year challenges, his lessons and practical engineering problems  posed kept his thoughts away from his lost love a hundred miles away in occupied Jersey, His work outside with his bike business as steady as his reputation spread and Dellimores always needed his extra pair of strong hands. Life had to go on.

Chapter four

The year was moving on and rationing  had been introduced, his father dug up the lawn to grow vegetables. Steve was generally busy but  knew his 18th birthday was nearly upon him and that would probably mean  his call up papers would arrive. In early September his father once again in a deja view moment once said he had a buff envelope delivered in the midday post. With a large Ministry of War in black letters above his address.This time it was his call up papers and a one way travel warrant . Steve did not know how he felt opening the envelope and reading its no nonsense contents.

He was to report to the Royal Ordnance camp on the Oxford road Bicester on September 10th reporting to the Guard room by 1600 hours at the latest. He could take one suitcase with him with essential toiletries and clothing and nothing except his birth certificate and any medical documents. The next few days was a blur of feverish activity he contacted the tec, their admin lady in her gentle  consoling voice told him said he was one of many in the and he was not to worry if he could send a copy of the letter  in, his place would be suspended until he could attend again (whenever that's going to be steve thought!) Taking  the sign down in the post office window and contacting his understanding but disappointed  clients he would not only have time to fix a couple of the bikes he had to do but not all of them. If they called in a few days they could collect what he did not have time to do as well as a last Saturday working with  Dillimores, they were busy too with a back load of  clients who wanted to move to the country,  leaving with a friendly hand shake from the portly and obviously well doing Mr Dillimore with his best wishes.

At home his parents said little but were obviously worried, his upcoming orders  seemed a taboo subject. His dad pressed a five pound note into his pocket patting him on  the shoulder assuring him it would all be ok, he found all his underwear and toiletries folded and placed neatly in their little holiday brown suitcase in his bedroom. He had no idea how to get or even sure where Bicester was or how to get there The next day, along with his dad set off to cycle the two miles down through the town over the canal bridge that divided Bedfordshire with Buckinghamshire and up through  the adjoining Lislade to the station for advice.  Being told by the ancient  tobacco stained moustached station master peering over his half moon spectacles, that he needed to catch the train that ran from Dunstable, known to all as the Dunstable dasher to Bletchleiy. Changing there for the Oxford train that stopped amongst other places in Bicester. Including waiting times if he caught the eight o'clock dasher he should be able to connect with the Oxford train due about 9.30 he said leafing through a massive dog eared book with his smoke stained fingers. of time tables, leaving him plenty of time to find and walk to the Camp. Showing the helpful clerk his travel warrant he after peering up and down the voucher took a couple of tickets from the drop down racks of hundreds inside the office saying “good luck lad”, pushing them under the glass divider towards Steve. I was in the last lot. I hope it is better for you.

Chapter Four 

After a tearful goodbye from his Mother, his little suitcase strapped to his bike's pannier, he set off with his dad who would ride his and control Steve's  bike on the way back from the station. The dasher arrived pushing two carriages in  front as did coming from Dunstable through to Bletchley. Hi dad gave him a manly hug and shook his hand  as he boarded shoving his case on the overhead string luggage rack, after few minutes with the engines steam valve  venting every few minutes a long sharp whistle blew, his dad swung the door to,stepping back with a watery look in  his eye waved goodbye as the dasher chuffed it was our of the station. This was a first for steve looking out the window as they left the station and plunged into the blackness of the tunnel under the Tunnel hills and out into the Buckinghamshire  countryside, looking down into could could see a horse drawn pair of canal boats along the canal , the green countryside  sped past looking peaceful in  the autumnal morning sunshine. In no time at all the train began slowing and finally with a lurch came to a halt  in Bletchley .lt was a lot busier than the semi deserted leighton station, looking up at the  signs he clambered up the steep staircase over the bridge and onto  Platform four to wait for the Oxford express.

Steve was shocked, the train was packed with people of all sizes, and shapes dozens of uniforms, many smoking adding to the blue haze in the carriage. Kit bags and luggage of all sorts were cramped in any handy spaces he found himself trapped in a drafty space by toilets. He could  feel the weight of the train as it slowly gathered speed as it sped south towards Oxford. Arriving there  there was the general hubbub as people shuffled to and from, grabbing luggage, others sliding into empty seats . Finally bundling out behind two others in uniform he made his way out on the station forecourt. To his surprise there was a canvassed topped army truck standing waiting, its driver casually leaning against the dropped back smoking. The two squadies in front of him needed no bidding made for it, chucking their kit bags  bags on first clambered  on board, making a move the driver spotting Steve, “are you going to the camp mate”. Steve hesitantly nodded , “I thought so," the driver said, then spotting Steve's traveling companion told  them both” get on “there have been  dozens already”. After a rough draughty ride in the smoke filled draughty back of the lorry Steve saw that they were following a twelve foot high fence with barbed wire top and presently pulled into the gate and stopped, ushered  off the truck and into what they grew to know the guard room 

Steve went to the window where a corporal with clipboard in hand asked for his name and date of birth, Steve started to say that is where he was told to report, when the corporal stopped in saying he didn't want to know his life history, sign here to wait around the back with the others, the others turned out to be six men standing uncertainty clutching bags and suitcases. Right said the corporal  coming out of the guard room. your in” your  the army now, don't stand about like a bunch of headless chickens get in some kind of order and “you” he  said addressing Steve, what's your name “Mackintosh” said Steve, l ,”you look as though your head is  the right way around he said take this lot over to hut 6,  gesturing towards a line of nissen huts on the far side of a large area of concrete where groups of soldiers seemed to standing to attention or with legs apart or marching hither and thither about. He started off with the others following, “  and dont dither about you lot, get a move on now!  “ they lengthened  their stride  heading across the parade ground when a very large voice shouted  “ You!  get off my parade ground ! !” hastily they retreated to the footpath and  followed it around finding  hut 6, opened the door to the noise of twenty  others standing or sitting on beds. They all stopped talking and watched as the six new  occupants  tentatively entered. Not being sure what to do next Steve found an empty bed and sat down. Smiling at his nearest  occupant of the bed next door, asking  his new neighbour where he had come from as everyone else seemed to be doing as names and experience were exchanged , the noise level went back up. Unlit the door banged open and a little man immaculately dressed with two white strips in his  arm and  enormous gleaming  boots. The noise stopped instantly, you could hear a pin drop “ right he said  Stand by your beds he shouted, standing self conchestly by his bed his Steve looked straight ahead as the corporal paced slowly  paced up the room and back looking each of its occupants up and down as he passed back at the door he smartly turned around the address them. Right you lot you are now  Intake No 6 .My name is Lane,  Corporal Lane to you, it rhymes with Pain  and that's what I will be if you do not do what you're told and when. Is that clear yes corporal some answered , he said “ I can't hear you intake  6 “  in unison they all shouted “yes corporal”! He said I'm going to be your mother, father and uncle for the next six weeks , your mine , get it right and it will be alright get it wrong and all hell will drop on your head, is that clear ?  “ yes corporal" was the unanimous answer shouted back. The observant ones of you will have noticed that each bed has a pillow and case, a folded sheet and a blanket. You will note how it is laid out. This is what I want  to see  your bed every morning when I come back from breakfast. Once a week before the room inspection, you will  organise amongst yourselves who is mopping the floor who is dusting and last who is polishing . Including the Latrines! You will stand by your bed with your bed clothes and kit laid out in the prescribed manner in your locker as the one in the one at the end . The cleaning  kit is in the cupboard by my basha through that door he said indicating the dividing door between them the WC and him. Is that clear! Yes! Came the reply in unison.

Now get some scoff that’s in the building with a big sign that says cookhouse for any dibo,s, then get over to the stores. That's the  other one with the big white sign on it that says "Stores is that clear, “yes corporal they chorused back. Half an hour later  after a meal of stew and  stodgy dumplings slopped on his metal tray in the steamy busy and noisy cook house where it seemed hundreds of men sat at long trestle tables . Steve dug into his food. He wasn't fussy   and very hungry, but when he scooped up a spoonful of meat, it  had a large vein hanging from it, disgusted he immediately lost his appetite and stood  scraping his food into a large disgusting looking barrel half full of discarded food.washing his tray in two bowls of water the first  with greasy water floating on the top with  bits of uneaten food,  the second not quite as bad. Steve grimaced, putting his tray on the soiled stack . This is going to be a load of fun, he thought. Except for  a couple of stragglers running to join the line,  intake No 6 stood in a ragged  anticipation at a door of a long low building with another door at the other end. From his position as number four in the line Steve could see through the open door a long counter with  men light brown smocks on at regular intervals each with an or some items in  front of them like a row automatons  

Behind them huge racks stacked and with khaki clothes and boots and good knows what,  Right you lot their new master ordered, in you go, they filled forward in  procession  at each station the impassive automaton  put an item or items  in front of them. Going back and forth to the rack for the next person.  Starting  with Coats great khaki 1, Battle dress Khaki 1,  shirt hairy 2, socks pair 2, and braces grey,  the pile was getting bigger, 1 pair, Draws cellular blue, plimsolls black 1 pair,  PT shorts and singlet 1 ,Housewife 1, rifle cleaning kit 1,  knives clasp1.  And finally boots ammunition 1  pair with  laces, brushes and tin polish for the use of 1.  Assorted webbing 1938 pattern webbing and belt 1, blanco tin1. Staggering out the other end Steve could hardly see over the huge pile in his arms. He followed the rest  back to their hut. Followed by the diminutive Corporal Lane chivvying them on.

 Following the last man in he shouted. Right” stand to Attention  he shouted above the hub, the silence was instant. Take a good look at me and this is how I want you to dress when we have our first muster parade at 0800. But first I want you all that's all outside in your PT kit  at 0600  for a wake up run before  ablutions and breakfast . That is all. Do not leave this room without my  permission, is that clear. Yes corporal came to the chorus of voices. With that the door was shut, the noise rose to a crescendo as the new intake moaned  and  groaned asking  how they did this or that and what about the run at 6 o'clock , I've never been up that early someone shouted..They worked long into the night stowing their civvies in the locker provided under the bed holding up the tangled of the webbing up completely puzzled how they would get in on. Struggling into the iron stiff ammo boots they were supposed to wear. This set the scene for the next eight weeks, Parading at 0600  standing outside in singlets and shorts shivering in the morning cold,  half hour run, before breakfast then they had three hours to eat, then two and a half hours to dress and lay out their beddinging as prescribed. Followed by kit inspection and dress inspection, by the eagle eye Crpl Lane. punishments could range from twenty press ups a minor infringement to beds being turned upside down because. Or the contents of lockers pulled out for not being correct. In  time they started to master the morning cores,  they did not know it but they were being trained and molded into a unit that one day would stand them in good stead. Even boots became softer as they polished and polished them again  and again as one of the  TA boys showed them with literally spit and polish .The press ups and admonishments tapered off as the weeks went  on.

They drew rifles from the armory, Lee Enfields No 3 to .303 calibre rifles that had first been issued before the first war. They learned how to march, salute, hold their weapon in the attention and ease how to fit a bayonet. They went on the ranges  for many firing anything the first time,  how to zero the rifles  sights, breathe and lay properly to get the best results. They took turns in the “butts “ raising and lowering the man sized targets and getting used to the crack of rifles firing and sand kicking up  on the bank behind  the targets.

Slowly they were moulded into a unit , they went out on long route marches and learned how to deal with blisters and adjust their equipment so it did not chaff and was more comfortable.  There was an air of competition with the other huts , who was the best turned out or who was the first back from march. For  the most part they helped each other, many like Steve started to enjoy it. Marching  back from the ranges one day, a watershed moment, swinging  their arms and holding their heads up as they passed another intake of poor sods  looking lost and bewildered who had just arrived. They were allowed in the Naafi at the end of training , some played cards, others wrote home or sat chewing the fat  enjoying a  glass of weak Naffi beer or a cup of tea and cheese and onion bun.  At nine o'clock sharp,  the “ colour boy" , a  staff sergeant, came in with his red sash,  pace stick and razor sharp creases  to make sure the place was shut down. 

They had all been counting down the days,  rumour control said they would be split  up and  posted to different units . Crpl Lane had started to ease up some times coming through from his room at the end to chat quietly with  anyone who was there offering advice or a suggested solution to a problem.they started to feel that although he was a tough taskmaster he  was fair and not a bad bloke

It was now November they had had their final parade  for all the intakes standing in immaculate unison as a rather elderly ribbon bedecked colonel stood on his pedestal in the a cold easterly wind  his words very often whipped away in the wind, saying  he was and the country was proud of them and wish them  all good luck where they were going. As  they marched past  and were  dismissed . The parade  broke into a huge swirling  mass  of men all making for the notice board.  Steve had his forty eight hour pass and travel docket in his pocket, along with others raced to gather around the notice board scouring its list  for their name and where they had been posted .

He was shocked and puzzled that he had been posted to a newly formed repair outfit called the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers. Of all places in Tidworth on the Salisbury plain.  He didn't know whether to be pleased or not. He  had told the spectacled pimply chinned staff officer from the  “admin” who looked younger than him that  he was good with his hands and like fiddling with things, so that was it In any case his mind was taken up with the prospect of forty eight hours with his mum and dad  After a long convoluted journey home packed in a slow train that seemed to stop every half an hour in a packed carriage with dozens of others wearing uniforms from what seemed all over the world.

Finally he arrived home to his thrilled parents who were amazed how he had put on weight and looked very fit filling out his uniform with a well shaped torso and arms . His father wanted to know all about his experience and mother fused about endlessly saying she had aired his bed and using all her  ration allowance up for the week had brought some lamb for their evening meal. Steve found it all a bit of an anticlimax, yes it was nice to be home with the familiar surroundings and smell of the house and see his parents  But he was at a loose end to know what to do.. There was no news from Jersey, not that he had expected any, or even about Jersey.  

It seemed the nation was more interested in its defence and preparing its army for the battles that must in the end come. He had had a look in the shed at the last bike he had been working on but had no interest in completing it. He found himself kicking his heels reading the newspaper and listening to the news of the war in North Africa and the Atlantic which was not good. His mind drifted to Georginana and what could have been, he thought his chance of meeting or even talking to her again were unlikely; she had probably found someone new anyway. This did not stop him reading and rereading her  letters and became quite melancholy, suddenly wishing he was back with boys enjoying a laugh and sharing their hardships.  He looked up where Tabworth was and with help once again of the bespectacled clerk how to get there. Found It would take him the best part of five and half hours he would have to get a train into Euston get across London to Paddington and a train  to  Andover were there would probably be a bus, feeling  he really wanted to get on with it, announcing  to his parents' dismay that he would be on his way the first thing in the morning He didn't need to bother his his downcast father ,he  could walk to the station in an hour.

The journey down to London was what seems to be the norm now, packed carriages, a slow train that seemed to stop all the time to let goods trains rathling by pulling truck after truck of goods . Getting across the city was not the problem Steve  thought it might be. The underground was running fine and Steve easley reading  the schematic map, arrived and found  Paddington as busy as  Euston, packed with transiting people. Looking at the chalkboard his train had been on time and was waiting on platform four. He climbed on finding a nearly empty  carriage to himself and settled at the end and was shortly after the train with a loud whistle and jerking between the carriages set off. With his early start, it didn't take Steve long to doze off to the clackity clack of the rails in comfortable slumber.

Arriving in  Andover found a friendly station master who said there was a bus stop outside and an hourly bus out to Tidworth it stopped right by the camp gates. Looking at his watch saying  there was the best part of an hour before the next one, why didn't he get himself a cuppa in the station cafe. it was free to servicemen. True to his word the bus turned up and along with a few other service men and for the first time Steve noticed a woman dropped them at the gates. Reporting the sentry in the guard room who indicated some open doors on a large hanger type place across the way. Making his way over found  it packed with vehicles of all shapes and sizes, asking an overall clad soldier leaning over a car with its bonnet up, who was in  charge.  “Sgt Blake  he was over there came the reply , hearing the  sound of voices. A large well built stocky individual turned, saw Steve and wiping his hands on an oily cloth stuck one out to shake Steve's hands. Saying “you must be Macintosh ,I’m Sgt Blake, you can call me Sarg, we’ve been expecting you”. Drop your orders over in the office, he said to the slightly shocked Steve,  they will show you where the lads are billeted. There are a couple of empty spots, stow your gear and by then it should be time for scoff.  Be here at eight with the rest  for the muster parade  in the morning and we can get you some overalls and get you teamed up with an experienced hand, there's lots to do. 

Unpacked and rested, Steve was both surprised and really pleased with his new home; it was a complete contrast to the last eight weeks. Beds were made but not all boxed up and perfect, some clothes laid about on the bed, here and there a picture in a frame or two and a traveling watch as well on one and a pair of boots poking  out from under a bed. It had a fireplace, probably left over from the first war too. Really pleased with his new home  he made his way over to the cook house, as soon as he walked  in he could see it was much smaller and even looked inviting. There was hardly anyone in  there compared to Biscester. Some tables for the men, one further away obviously for the senior ranks because he could see Sargent  Blake sitting there talking animatedly to the others, a much smaller table that must be the officers Steve thought further up. Sliding his tray along the counter chose  his favorite of sausage eggs and beans, and an apple for afters. A giant urn gently bubbled away in the corner surrounded by cups and  milk in an open bottle and the makings for tea.  Just sitting down someone from one from the adjoining table came over. Steve saw he had the one piece overall  so guessing  they must  from the REME smiled at the new visitor. Hi he said leaning on the table edge  im Ray Colmer from the detachment, why don't you come over and join us. Steve did not need a second bidding, picked up his food and joined the nine crew around the table. They introduced themselves by name and wanted to know all about him. He could not help but notice  a few rolling their eyes when said he had come straight from Bicester and had no  mechanical experience, only what he learned fixing bicycles. But they were a friendly enough  group and it all bode well for the future. Over the next few weeks the well  established daily routine was: a semi informal muster parade with  the “Rocky” as they called Sergeant Blake behind his back due to his short fuse when new repairs and  instructions were issued. They certainly were busy vehicles of all shapes and sizes came into the garage, some towed on civvy  tow trucks, occasionally a batch of two or three on a tow loader, once repaired, went to the spray shop and then Steve presumed back to their units. He was little more than a go,for hardly knew one end of a wench or the other, but slowly he started to be useful using a jack to take the wheel off so one of the crew could get at its bearings He did a lot of cleaning parts in oil baths, something he really disliked; cleaning parts others had taken off and repaired,  he taught himself the rudiments of driving crashing gears and launching a vehicle about in kangaroo leaps to the amusement of the watching crew taking the repaired vehicles over to the short drive to the paint shop. Occasionally and illegally started taking one out for a road run. Sergeant Blake organised a sham driving test that only amounted to a run around the local roads for half an hour and he proudly looked at the new driving licence when it arrived. He also told Steve he  had a word with one of the officers and as soon as he could he would get him on a basic mechanics  course. What he didn't know was that  Steve was getting bored. With the steady sedentary daily cycle the long evenings reading a  book or sitting in the NAAFI drinking  or playing cards with radio playing what he thought of as missable music in  the background.  He started to make a  the time to read part one orders for the day and the army news on the notice board and was attracted by one of the notices of positions that a new unit, the Army commandos, who the post said were looking for people who liked excitement and danger and were prepared for hazardous duty, Steve read it several times and swallowed hard.

 He  had only been here a few months, he  wasn't sure he dared talk to the OC about what he had seen on the board. His eyes kept going back to the word hazardous duty. He had been a bit of a daredevil in his youth riding his home made “track “ bike with its fixed wheel,holding his breath as he pitched  over some precipitous cliff edge in the nearby pits. But this sort of hazardous could mean serious injury, even death! The days went by he just could not build up the courage to ask. Until one day he blurted it out when one of the crew said had anyone seen the hazardous duty thing on the notice board that he said he really fancied it.!  Word spread amongst the crew finally reaching his sargents ears who cornered him one day when he was working on his own on one of the benches at the end of the garage. Are you sure about what I'm hearing Steve he said in a kindly manner, well yes Steve said i am  in a very hesitant voice . “You would give up this steady little posting of a dream and a safe job in this back of beyond posting to chance getting yourself killed!”.  Yes I think I would, he replied brazenly, well  his Sergeant said I am sorry that you found us such a boring lot but if that's what you want, go for it. I will see the OC. It's no good you hanging about here only doing half a job he said a  little bitterly, thinking of all he had done to get the lad set up. Later that day he was called to the OCs office. Who, like his sergeant  tried to dissuade him from transferring from this cushy back of the world posting to risking his life and limb just for kicks! Steve said he was.  Well the OC said we really need people here and I could refuse, but I'm going to let you go, you know they won't just accept, there will be some tests and I expect  tough ones with a high  failure rate. If you do fail I am not sure there will be a place for you back here, you do realise that dont you? Steve dumbly nodded. Turning back to his work ,dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He said thank you sir  to the top of OCs head, saluted, turned and left the office past the clerk who sat with his mouth open and goggled eyed.

A  week later, summoned to the Squadron office, was presented with his marching orders,  by the smirking clerke . He was to report to the Army Commando office in the newly formed Parachute Regiments battle school in Brecon on the 5th of January 1941.  He was also given a rail warrant and a fourteen day leave pass. He was elated he was on his way and a christmas leave at home to boot. The night before he left  packing his kit bag the blokes that were there wished him good luck, some thought he was balmy and a few shook his hand. Sergeant Blake was not to be seen; he was apparently away for a few days.

Standing at the gate in the cold wintery semi morning light waiting for the bus with his coat collar turned up against wind  felt quite isolated, but he had done it now and made his bed and he would have to sleep in it now he told himself there was no going back, not to here anyway, he told himself.  His parents were delighted to see him, he had telephoned ahead to say without mentioning his transfer when he expected to be home and after another long laborious journey stepped out of the station to see a Dillimores van waiting for him to take him home. He was thrilled to bits with unexpected  welcome, arriving home to his ecstatic mother who somehow looked more frail and thin clung to him for what seemed ages, finally letting go with a tear in her eye. His dad had not changed at all and firmly shook his hand saying a very manly welcome home son. He proudly showed  Steve his garden, now a vegetable plot with brussels growing and some sort of cabbages. 

In the days that followed he felt more content now he had a new challenge in front of him, surprising his mother busy in the kitchen on his first morning back when had  come down donned in his his running shorts and plimsolls and an Army “Woolypulley” he has acquired at Tidmouth and disappeared out the door shortly after just  seven in the morning for a run. He  felt great being out on a lovely cold clear morning, ran hard crossing the light railway and on up to kiteleys farm, passing to the sound of the disturbed dogs onto the cross roads just short of the brick company, turning right headed through the zigzag lane lane down towards the hill and the buildings and farm on the top of the  Clipstone village, once over stopped briefly to on the other side to catch his breath and look at the wintery cold water of the clipstone brook that ran under the road. Then out  onto the main Hockliffe road  heading back, it was all very familiar to him from his school boys days with his brother and finally turning right again at the light railway where it crossed the road by the  Brinkton cottages at the start of the town,  following the path along its long curve across the fields back toward the tall trees he and Kenny had climbed and the clipstone brook bridge then the cart track that climbed up past scraggy's vegetable field and back home. It had taken just an hour so Steve thought about five miles. Father was up by then ready to set off on his bike to work and mother pushed the boat out, frying him an egg from the chickens his father now kept in the converted back garden run, along with some bread and dripping and his favorite mug full of tea. 

He felt supremely contented with life and looked forward to a walk down the town where he had to report into the council offices so the family would get extra ration stamps on their card. In the days that followed he would often accompany his mother with her little square shopping bag on her forays into the town. Very often having the wait, particularly outside the butchers, that always seemed  to have que outside. He saw a lot of people who he knew, many of them giving him a double look at his broad six food frame. He even bumped into Brenda from the youth club he had belonged to and had a crush on what seemed ages ago. They hugged  like old friends they were. She too had grown her ample bosom  pressing against the dark blue of her WVS uniform she wore. They had chatted she as impressed with him as he was with her and they agreed to meet in the town cafe the next saturday, she would ask  some of the others to join them, leaving with a cheery wave went on her way Steve admiring the movement of her ample hips for a few minutes more than he should have done. she waved again over her shoulder, Steve grinned  to himself “ she knew, he thought . “She knew!” . Laughing out loud, turned on his  way.

The days merged into one  Christmas crept up on them. They put up what decoration they had. His Dad  came home with a christmas tree  from somewhere and the next day gave their cockerel the chop. He had been feeding it corn to fatten it up so it had had a good life. Mother laid the best table cloth and her best crockery as her sister and husband Bill who now worked  with a gang building airfields telling them that they came in a kit form, hangers, control tower living quarters, everything it was amazing he said.  Diner over they sat full and contented listening to the carols from Kings college in London and the kings speech of course at three o'clock. The only thing that marred the day was that brother Ken was away and they had not  heard from him recently. But then sometimes two or three letters sometimes arrived at once in a bundle tied with string. In no time at all it seemed all over. Saturday was upon him, he was late, he never got  to meet Brenda and hoped she and their friends were not  too disappointed with him not showing up, but time was running out and he was thinking about getting himself down the Brecon to the battle school.

Chapter five

With two days to go he said goodbye again to his parents and caught the bus that passed through to Aylesbury and stopped  at the station. His journey took him into London and out again on the midday train for Cardiff .Late afternoon found him alighting  in Port talbot. Lugging his kit bag, he headed for  the bus station only to find that the last bus  had gone for the night. A bit stumped, he thought he would try what someone had told him and went to the police station. Explaining to the portly desk Sergeant that he was trying to get up to Brecon and was expected there tomorrow and had missed the last bus.  After rubbing his chin and talking to an unseen colleague was offered an empty cell on the proviso that if it was a rough night he might be turfed out!  He could use the canteen but although it was closed there would be some sandwiches and jam Doughnuts left out for the night patrol. Steve needed no second bidding, dumping his kit in the furthest cell, just in case headed up stairs where he found sandwiches and an urn of tea. He  could not believe his cheeky luck, slept well and woke refreshed . The canteen was open, so as not to miss a good opportunity to help himself to some of the display of eggs n bacon to the puzzlement of the kitchen staff not used to seeing a squaddy for breakfast, then grabbing his kit walked out thanking the bemused morning shift  as he passed  out into the winter sun looking for a bus. That did not turn out to be a problem as there was a line of uniformed figures at one of the stops, some of them wearing red berets. He piled on with the other showing his chitty to the driver and he joined the others on the hours ride up to Brecon. He had never been to Wales before he obviously knew it was hilly, but as the fully laden bus ground its way up the twisty valley road, looking out the misty window saw  just how big  they were, some must be mountains he thought,  thinking with some trepidation he was soon going to find out!

He lined up with the others, there seemed to be a variety of headgear amongst the paras in the que. They were just waved through, when it  was his time the red berated para said looking down his list, you were supposed to be be yesterday, I know said Steve I got here as soon as I could, asking where the Army commandos HQ was, the Para looking at his REME badge he still wore on his black beret  said “Just follow the other crap hats down there it's right at the bottom” The bottom proved to be a substantial wooded building with a veranda there were about a dozen people spread along it  taking it in turns to go in, although none seemed to be coming out?  When it was his turn he found himself confronted by a tall  fit looking WO II who checked his paperwork ushering into an office where a forty something  but fit looking major sat behind a desk. With a wooden sign  that announced he was Major F Smith. He stood at the at ease position, “You must be Steve Macintosh”  he stated.  Do  you think you fit steve? He looking up from his papers, yes sir Steve replied, well you look as though you are, your outfit sent you with a good report. You do know what you're getting into dont you? Steve replied in the infermative  signing the sheet of paper the major had slid across the desk to him. He signed, standing back. The major said to consider yourself on the next selection course. Leave by the green side door, where you will find our stores, once you have drawn the kit they will issue you with make your way  to our basha near the mess. Get some food and  get your head down.  Be on muster  parade in front of this office  wearing your smock and  cap comforter at 0800. Have with you with  your compass  Bergen, sleeping bag,  your food and a full water bottle, Is that clear?   Chrystal  Steve said, trying not to grin and nearly raising his right hand to salute, picked up his kit bag and headed for the stores. He was in !.

The stores were just next door. Steve joined the shuffling line as once again in addition to his kit bag still hung on his shoulder was issued  a parachute Regt camouflaged smock  woollen,cap comforter  bergen rucksack,  sleeping bag, compass, pouch and a water bottle. Following the line of the others entered their new home. There were about thirty blokes from the look of their dress.  Steve thought a variety of regiments made a couple look as though they might be French or Belgian. There was a hubbub of voices exchanging greetings as everyone busily  sorted  their kit out as Steve found himself an empty bed space. Parading in the morning, gone had the different head gear and clothing now they were all the same and anonymous , they were told to answer their names with a curt,” here staff” . There were six of them all looking fit and smartly dressed. For the next month  they were told to expect fitness tests , map reading instructions, the first shake down marches in a group or groups before walking on their own.  Major Smith said they could  “jack” as he described resigning  at any time and he expected that only about a quarter of this selection course will be standing at the end. They were to carry forty five pounds every time in their bergans with no exception. So it made sense to make sure it was made up of food, water and other stuff they would need. The bergans would be weighed at some check points, he referred to them as RVs and if they were underweight they could expect  the pleasure of a large log or rock as company for the remainder of the day.

They started being taught map reading, for Steve keeping quiet, it was something he was already, although rusty was  quite good at from his scouting days, going out on map to ground familiarisation on the nearby lower hills where they could see a huge area of land to the North could  then look at their maps and use the compass, find some points of interest and note such as a church or wood.  From these basics they  went on to learn to do “back bearings”, a triangular method of establishing your exact location and distances. What height various places were from the contour lines, what were  hills or rentrants.  They were shown weapons they had not seen before the ugly all metal sten gun with its side magazine and a silenced version called a Patchett sten, a Welrod single shot silenced pistol its purpose obvious to all. An American made an M1 carbine short and light,  a colt automatic pistol and a vicious looking Forbes Bosan stiletto fighting knife.  Fitness  training was also part of our regular routine. Their Instructor was the formidable  Sgt Vincent He was one of the few soldiers who had seen action  preware and more recently in Europe and Greece so he was a very experienced man. Told to team up and pick up one of the long telegraph logs stacked by the gate  between them and follow him out of the gate, at the double! Turning left they  jogged an uncomfortable skin chafing  mile to a nearby park, ordered to put the log down, ran a circuit, followed by squats  jumps and push ups  before the command that  they knew was coming  of “pick up the log”  setting off back.  As they neared the gates Steve in the first  group  swung out expecting to go in when they went straight past!  The groans and gasps were audible!  Just about clinging  on by this time, they did another mile or so before returning, hoping that they would go in this time. Thankfully they did  dropping the log with a huge thump,  Steve as they all were standing gasping hands on hips trying to get their breath back. The pick up the log command  was to become synonymous with sweat and hard breathing in the coming weeks.

The first march  going under the title of  “Shake down Down 1” was just an introduction into the basics consisting of about a ten miles march, stopping to practice map reading, given instructions on how best to pack their kit and general advice. Coming to an end in the late afternoon, experiencing for the first time cooking from a twenty four hour ration pack on a strange folding tin device called  Hexi cooker that ran on blocks of inflammable stuff that much later Steve learned, was closely related to plastic explosive!  Then putting up a “Basha”* using their poncho, for the first time and learning from an uncomfortable night that followed how important a good spot was , if you could find one!  A debrief in the  morning and clambering in the back of the “three toner”  for the run back to the battle school, to shower, get some breakfast, change and report for more instructions. Everyone had a story, Steve loved every minute!

“Shake down  2” two days  later was a full day's march now as individuals, carrying a minimum of prescribed  35 Lb in In heir bergens, they were expected by now onced briefed to think of what kit they need for whatever actively they were going to do next along with the now standard working day dress of  battle dress, cap comforter belt kit, water bottle,  jack knife, compass with  pouch and lanyard with what they called their escape kit a pouch with stuffed with food, fishing & snare lines and tiny first aid kit. Transported out in the now standard draughty back of a three tonner, they were briefed individually on the first Rv for the day's leg and set straight away.  By late afternoon most but not all had arrived.  After a ration pack brew up and beef stew from his  rations.   Steve and the others were given the next and final  RV, after being checked by pointing to the  supervising DS it out on their map and were  set off  individually at ten minute intervals into the gathering darkness. The “going” was a fairly safe training area for the new navigators,as all the walking was along the back of a ridge of hills in the right direction towards the RV they had been given. Looking down from the ridge to the lights of the local towns. Steve could clearly see  the silhouette of a line of  wooden poles marching across the countryside in the right direction, it was hard to get lost,  Steve's only drama was that to his horror when drawing his map from within his  para smock to find it was not there!  Thinking where it might have fallen out he  had no choice but to go back to a fence clambering through in the dark, to his relief finding it and learning a valuable lesson!  In the early hours . Dropping off the hill down to the RV in a lay-by on the Brecon road several bodies were already on the waiting three tonner parked waiting for them. Steve, booking in, relieved off his bergen, chucking it on board and with a welcome hand from fellow course another Steve  clambered on board, looking around. Obviously  they were not all back , perhaps he was early or some had got lost, or had enough and “Jacked?!”

 If they thought their day was done  for the day they were mistaken. Instructed that once they had got themselves cleaned up eaten and showered to report to the classroom. Dress casual plimsolls and could be worn. The Sergeant  Major was waiting for them, there was  a map on each long table. He shouted above the  interested hubbub to listen in!  They were to organise  themselves into groups, informing them they were  going to do a map exercise. They were to  plan a route from Grid ref,  he gave out a six figure number and Grid ref and another series of numbers,  Steve  started scribbling in his  notebook. “I want to know the best tactical route, how long you think it will take you, you must make best use of the lie of the land, avoid habitation  farms and roads, how many days it will take, where you might LUP for the night  would you need one?, or would it be a day LUP? ” What's an LUP? Steve asked his group. “A  lying up position” came the whispererd answer  “You have two hours, Men, get to it.  Steve joining up with five by now friends and comrades gathered around their table. As he saw the map for the first time he felt the blood drain from his face. It was a map of an island! It looked strangely familiar. His mind raced, surely not he thought looking up and was sure the Sergeant Major was looking straight at him! “What's matter Macintosh haven't” you seen a map of the Isle of White before?  That night Steve could not get Jersey and the girl  In what seemed a lifetime away now,that he had fallen in love out of his mind.  He couldn't  help thinking  where she was now, how she was coping . How were the Germans treating them?  Would she even remember him? Finally falling into a fitful sleep

Chapter 6 

Steve’s serious challenge was to the Black Mountains, Just inside the Welsh border  about an hour from the battle school. The mountains run North from Abergavenny, a series of peaks and troughs over something like ten miles.  Starting  with what was his first serious climb up the  very steep six hundred metres up to the ridge line. Stopping to catch his breath  started following the undulating climbs and falls  of the mountain to what was called the “Sugar Loaf” at its Northern end another two hundred metres higher,  Reporting in at the checkpoint. The views were superb, it was one of those fantastic clear spring days drinking in the vista. He could see a long way off  to the East, the dark blue outline  of their next challenge, the Brecon Beacons. But their day was not over as it was followed by another night leg. The lovely early spring day was now replaced by a cold wind whipping across the ridge pulling the cap comforter down over his  ears and easing his aching shoulder from the weight of the bergen pressed on before finally dropping down thankfully into the Wye Valley and the  transport. The morning parade revealed a couple more of his fellow recruits  missing already sitting  dejectedly in the adjacent jeeps back. Obviously having been there all night, presumably  having  had jacked at some point the previous day and as was the now established routine kept away from the others and disappearing very soon after being RTU to their units.

By now the weight had gone up to the  expected  45 lb plus belt kit. Steve always made up the weight with several  large tins of peaches brought from the Naafi carrying one or two  had  become a routine addition. The thought of consuming the lovely juicy, cool fruit  when the day was done all helped to keep him going.

After a day of rest came the next walk and their first visit to the Brecons, they had   arrived  the  previous night  instructed to make  their  bashas  as best  they  amongst the brambles and roots  of the wood next to the layby where  they they had dismounted  with  with orders to parade at 0700 the next morning ready to move. Looking up, Steve  could see the dark silhouettes of the mountains surrounding them. This filled him with foreboding at what lay ahead, a sensation that never left him. After a restless uncomfortable night in sloping tree roots of the woods, parading  with the others standing behind their  bergens in the “at ease” position  Steve  his cap comforters pulled down and the collar of his  parachute regiment smock turned up waiting for the  briefing in the cold grey Welsh morning,  were split into groups being told  this first part was a conducted walk”. With their instructor Sgt Vincent in the lead  they  set off.  Leaving the car park coming across a stream that ran down from the distant peaks. Told them the first  thing was to get some “Welsh wax” on their boots, and promptly walked across the stream looking back to make sure as they followed, so with soggy boots they started up on the first of many accents of the “fan”,  the track  could only be walked in single file, later  he found walking on on own at night it could be quite difficult to follow,  As he  did on several occasions even in the day in the fog that often clung to the mountains side. Wandering off onto the broad fairly feature less sides up to the mountains . But on this  their first visit in daylight with a leader there were no such problems. Steve drew deep lungs full of breath and pushed hard to keep position in the column as the track rose at an alarming angle. His tactic was  to simply look down at the man's legs and feet in front of him making sure the distance remained the same. Once they had arrived at the top of the”fan”, without stopping to draw breath into their gasping lungs  went down the extremely steep and precarious South side, to an old disused track of some sort following thankfully along its gently sloping grass to  a bridge in a little welcoming patch of woods by the stream that ran down from the top.  After a break, time for a brew off back up the track, to the now distant  “fan”, climbing the last of which required all scrambling on all four limbs!  Before descending  once again back down to the Story Arms late in the afternoon exhausted. They were told  they had a couple of hours before being ordered to parade again at 1900 hours.  Steve cooking up a curry, something he had started to perfect from the rice and raisins in the ration pack.  Made a  lean too with his  poncho against a convenient fence. Rolled out his  sleeping bag and using my belt kit as a pillow, slept like a log!  

 As the light began to fail Steve and the others  assembled around the back of the three tonner, given the  RV  for the night march and being checked each knew where it was. It was the  causeway over the Talibont Reservoir  about eight miles East, He set off into the gathering gloom. Stopping to study his  map under the light of red filtered light from his  G10 torch, Could see it involved the first half of the days conducted walk,up and over the “Fan” but then crossing the track and climbing again to and follow an escarpment towards a trig point over the Talibont causeway, followed by a steep descent down where the RV. Or, Steve surmised following all of the first half down to near the where they had stopped on the conducted tour where he saw on the map there was a disused tunnel marked that ran under the bottom of the mountain coming out at the southern end of Talibont,  longer but no climbing!  He made the decision, as it turned out, so did some others.  Arriving at the tunnel entrance Steve was mortified to find it was blocked!   But on closer inspection  found a single door, stepping inside to total eerie blackness with just the sound of dripping water to keep him company. Taking the filter off his torch started picking his  way over the assorted detritus on what then seemed an endless odyssey following the beam of the wavering  torch in the pitch blackness until suddenly coming across the other end of the tunnel.  It was again blocked but  this was his  relief and also had a small access door.  This let him out. into a cold clear night to finish the  night march.  Arriving  at the RV in the early hours.  Some were already on board the three tonners  who had made it back. Although not all had and the numbers had dwindled again. Then the drive in the back of the freezing windy smoke filled lorry rocking in and out of sleep, many in their sleeping bags on the coconut matting floor, others  hudled, with hoods up swaying to and fro as they hurtled back up the Battle school  Arriving and lowering himself down, Steve legs felt so stiff and cold that he feared  they might snap  if he  jumped!  All he wanted was a shower, food and  sleep. It was early afternoon before he finally awoke and, given the afternoon off,  joined the others sorting  kit out or tending to blisters and sore spots on shoulders and backs,  ending the day writing  a letter home to his Parents. 

Chapter seven

The next day The routine was now established, up early, easing stiff muscles. Breakfast, muster parade, the number now noticeably smaller with kit and bergens, the ride in the  three tonner back to the Story Arms. This time  there was  virtually no navigation required that provided the weather stayed fine the Sergeant  Major informed them with a slight smile as they were going to have the pleasure of the “fan Dance”

 Bergens weighted at  nine ok sharp they set off,  first in a bunch that soon lengthened as the speed merchants took the lead. Up to the RV on the “fan”, on a brilliant morning reporting in, then  the scramble down the sharpside and long walk down the old Roman road to the valley and  RV at the top of the Taff Trail, Then back up to the top,  reporting in again, descending down  the many false peaks on the North side to the old disused ranges at the bottom.  Arriving there Steve's legs felt decidedly wobbly from the long  jog downhill descent, finding the selection staff lolling up the wheel of a landrover in the early afternoon sunshine. Reporting in, he simply smirked, raised his hand and pointed back up!  A last exhausting climb back to the top and a final jog down to the Story Arms to what would be the final RV. Steve reported after 9 1⁄2 hours exhausted As it happened about midway in the pack.

They obviously knew the “long drag” or endurance test  was coming up. Rumour control  and speculation went wild about its length and cut off time, the consensus was it was forty five miles, All Steve knew was that it was indeed going to be very long!  Involving walking  from one RV to another never  knowing  how long the “drag” was until told you were told you had completed. 

Bergans weighed, a day later they again found themselves at muster  again in  the story arms car park. One by one name checked  and a time  noted  out against  them,  set off once more heading up towards the familiar sky line of  saddle that lead to the peak of the fan. Once there, reporting in and  given the next  Rv, a Brief stop to see where it was and the best route to get there setting  off without delay and so it went on and on. Throughout the day. Steve criss crossed a lot of the familiar ground they had done so before making navigation a lot easier.  It started to rain as the light started to fall making the trudge on into the night to the next Rv a grim struggle of mind over matter, he had not seen a soul since early afternoon and doubts started to creep into his tired mind.He munched mars bars, raisins and biscuits from his ration pack, once stopping for one of his treasured tins of peaches.

Dawn saw him trudging along in what was what was known as the elephant grass, a large area not far as it happened not far from where they had started although with all the criss crossing Steve had done it seemed a lifetime  away, everything ached. He was dead beat  as  he followed another track up to what was known as the Roman road road track Junction. Again reporting in and given his next Rv, this time back to the Story arms. This  could be it he thought heading in back towards where he had started. Arriving there his spirits  lifted as he could see  trucks and the selection saff.  Finally walking up to one with a clipboard. Feeling completely wasted was mortified to be given yet another, RV  his eighth, Swaying near to  edge exhaustion of not being able to carry on, turned tiredly away drawing the map from his map pocket to see where it was, when he had a tap on his shoulder, turning  and found Sgt Vincent standing with a grin on his face and an extended hand saying well done Steve using his Chrstian name for the first time, “you have finished”. It had taken him  nineteen and a half hours, just half an hour inside the cut off time. But he had passed!

Chapter eight

Arriving back at the battle school the last eight from the thirty something that had started lined up looking ragged ,dirty and exhausted. Waiting for them was also the staff  lined up.  The sergeant major called them to attention as  Major Smith came if his office and with one of the staff in attendance walked along shaking each man’s hand presenting them with a green  beret bearing a black patch with up turned  red dagger emblazoned on it and a red shoulder flash bearing the words “Army Commando”.  Dismissed were told they had the day off and a forty eight hour pass from the following morning. Immediately they broke rank, their previous judges and jurors came forward shaking hands and congratulating the new Commandos.  Getting home and back in forty eight hours was going to be impossible, so Steve took the time to  write to his parents and explain that he had changed units and was now based down in Wales, but little else apart from him being ok. He could not get home and back in the leave time he had. Not everyone else had gone home, Jock Stirling and Mick Murphy who because of his heritage was known to all as “spud” had stayed. He slept a lot, spent  time reading a new “ aide memoire” with its waterproof cover and full of useful information on the best course of action in all sorts of  situations and what the army called SOPs standing operating procedures. Cleaned and sorted his kit  and sewed his new shoulder flash on the shoulder of his battle dress. Bored, he took to looking through old newspapers. It was full of the war in North Africa and the battle of the Atlantic with a blurry photograph of a sinking U boat with some of its crew clinging to its deck on the front page. Inside the back page was Government notice, not an unusual thing since the war started, calling for any information, maps, holiday photographs or postcards  of France, Germany,  Norway or the low countries to be sent to a PO box in London. He sat up he did not have any of those  mentioned in the notice but he did have a map of Jersey and a couple of snaps that Mr Aldridge had taken. Surely they would do. Galvanised into action put pen to paper writing to his parents asking them to look through his old scout memorabilia and if the Jersey map was still there send it off to this PO box along with any photos they had of him when he was there.

Duty done he never thought much would come of it  and as  “spud” had come bursting into their  hut saying there were part one orders on the office notice board to be ready to leave at 0900 on the following Tuesday. Completely went  from his mind. They had been, he said breathlessly, posted to the Army commando HQ  in a place called Abbotsbury Swanley near Weymouth and Portland Bill. By Tuesday everyone was back, kit was being packed in feverish activity. Being told to strip their beds leaving in a heap for Steve thought probably for some Paras on “jankers”to clear up.  Loaded with kit bags,bergens stuffed full and clothing bundled out to find their driver JimTip standing  waiting by the dropped down tailgate. “Come on, you lot “ he  cajoled  them, the   other lot will be here soon, indicating the line of soldiers waiting along the veranda where they had stood just a few weeks before. Taking  their kit bags and bergens as they scrambled on. Steve liked Jim, although a rough diamond,  he was steady,  always looked out for him, he was also handy with his fists if need be to if someone was looking for trouble.  Loaded up they pulled away crowding round the open back to  cheer  as they passed  the upturned faces of the forty or so next victims for the selection course, once out on the open road , Jim as was his way wound the truck up,  its back axle whining in protest as they crossed the bridge into england.  It was going to be about a four hour drive and soon feeling the cold in the back, many dug their sleeping bags out  in an effort to keep warm . as they headed towards Gloucster and then South stopping just the other side of Trowbridge by a village bakery where the locals waiting for their morning loaf staired in surprise as they barged in to buy cheese buns and the like.

Chapter nine 

Arriving at their new home were greeted by the O.Cs  tough looking  sergeant major. Who showed where they would be billted along with forty others in what looked like a converted cattle shed. The place looked empty ,Steve presuming ther new comrades were out  training somewhere or who knows what. Informed them to get settled, get some scoff in the cook house situated in the admin building and report to the briefing room by 1400. At the briefing they learned that they still had several weeks of what was called continuation training and for some a parachute  or signals course before being assigned to the unit's basic unit, the four man patrol. The words Parachuting made them all set up! Something none expected and caused a  buzz. Told to listen in in no uncertain way, told that the commando operated on a need to know basis ,so if they were not invoked keep their noses out! To be ready to move 1900 hours that night! Shown how to waterproof their bergen One of  the first training sessions was a night river crossing.  

Well thought Steve, you did volunteer for it as his  numb fingers shaking a little as he tied the last loop of paracord around the top of his waterproofed  bergen rucksack raft.  Just inches from his right knee the soggy muddy  bank of  the dark  smooth fast flowing waters of the threatening river.  On the other side, way off in darkness  he could see the single red convoy light of the truck waiting to take them back to base, slipping one  leg into  the cold water. It was immediately  soaked, then plunging in dragging his bergen with him, the cold took his breath away. He struck out for the other side, the silhouetted far bank seemed to slide by at an alarming rate, soon he felt  weeds and mud and he started scrambling up the bank into the field.  relieved to be on dry land again.   Grunts and gasps on either side of him told him that  others had made it too.  In the distance the small red unblinking light still waited patiently.  Slinging his soggy  bergen  set off at a trot  feeling a  strange glow of warmth that only lasted for a few minutes.  All around him other dark shapes jogged  along grunting under their loads doubling across the field. Without warning he  fell over in an almighty undignified crash, confused, catching his breath,  struggling  like some stranded whale when the object he had fallen over let out an enormous mooooo and stood up, blotting out the moonlight!  In  a flash Steve was up and  running hard, he  had fallen over a cow!  Needless to say he was first back and they had a good laugh at his story when they got back exchanging the inevitable stories.  In the following  days they did training on minor tactics, an innocent  little title that meant repeatedly throwing  himself with the others up and  down the moon grass of the local ranges with either a rifle or lugging the  twenty eight pound general purpose machine gun,  lungs bursting, to fire, at distant targets.   All under the constant merciless  snarling Hampshire regiment  corporals. Steve had never  done this before,  was shocked by the  brutality of  sheep caught in the crossfire and was ignored now,  a tiny lamb lying helpless alongside his dead mother is dispatched without breaking a step.  Close quarter battle  firing  the sten gun in what was called the  “the murder house” and how to kill silently with the stiletto dagger they were now issued.  Someone told him to check  the part one orders  his name was on the list  for a the parachute course.

 Chapter Ten

There were three  groups who had to do resistance training,   Army commandos, Marines and aircrew.  Their training  started with  some lectures,  what they might expect their captures to know,  for instance, if they had been decorated ( not likely Steve thought) their name  might well have been in print in some magazine or local paper,  then there was every possibility that the  interrogators would shortly  (in fact Steve  had from his scouting visit to jersey) After your standard statement of “Sorry, I can't answer that question Sir” they had been told of  giving  name rank and service number, would research and soon know all about him and his  family. 

 At the end of the lectures, armed men came into the room  dressed in German uniforms carrying  Mp 40 machine pistols. Steve realised they were  “in the bag” the rest of the day and night was very unpleasant, between their guards “softening  up” with pushups and forced to stand  stress positions ,  he was frog marched in to face” Mr Nasty” with bright lights in his  eyes, shouting  threats and obscenities at him.  Or “Mr Nice”  offering a cigarette and trying to get a Red Cross statement  signed saying that he was  alive and well and being well treated.  He lost all sense of time, when his  hood was taken off  twelve  hours later blinking in the sudden light and told it was all over, he  suspected It was a ruse like the last leg of selection, such was his confusion and it took some time before he realised it really was.  Travelling back to base,  everyone  had a  story to tell!   They  were all also well aware that what they  had experienced was in the context of training.  In the real thing it might well be considerably worse,  even before we  got taken to an interrogation centre!

   

 Chapter ten Parachutist.

It was true their names were on the list for parachuting training the course  starting in a week , they had another forty eight hour pass Steve annoyingly could not use and then transport had been laid on for them to go to No 1 parachute training centre in Oxfordshire. They were in with a bunch of young paras, starting with ground training, how to land properly and roll, then onto something  called the tower where attached to a harness they leapt into space from a platform on its seventy foot steel construction and lowered to the ground on a cable at parachute descent speed. There were going to  be six.The first one was "clean fatigue” it was going to be a memorable one for Steve he had never even been in an aircraft never mind jumping from one! They would jumping from an old war weary whitley bomber. It was incredibly noisy as it roared and rattled its way into the air crammed in with the others. Steve became absorbed in its whale-like ribs and cables that ran over his head front to rear. He was shaken out of his reverie by the dispatcher shouting above the din and gesticulating  with his arms, “hook up, check equipment”.  He shouted  above the noise of the  engines.  Swaying and bracing himself , Steve latched his  static line onto an  overhead steel cable, checking his harness was all ok several times then  the man's parachute pack in front of him as the old aircraft banked  around towards the drop zone.  Pitching up as it  slowed, the PJI  slid a panel away in the floor,  Immediately cold gusty air rushed in from the round hole in the floor. From his  position in the stick,  Steve could see the green Oxford countryside sliding by. Levelling up, a red  light on aircrafts frame came on. The PJI held up two fingers, his  legs were shaking, they shuffled forwards, holding onto the steel cable.  The red eye glared at them for what seemed ages and just as suddenly flicked to green. “GO! GO!” came the shout as the first man disappeared, arms folded through the hole .  Shuffling up in line, now it's me, he thought, folding his arms, the next few seconds were a blur as he jumped into the ring of daylight thankful he had not “rang the bell” by smacking his nose on the opposite rim and suddenly  was riding  down the slipstream. The chute opened, looking  up gratefully to see it had deployed properly . The noise and drama inside the aircraft suddenly changed to peaceful silence as he  swayed under its  open green canopy. Looking down onto the DZ  those in front of him now on the ground, their chutes collapsed like useless bundles of washing. Seconds later his  view changed as the green grass came rushing up,  bending his knees and  turning his  feet off to avoid toes, knees, nose, hospital, to start his  parachuting career.  He banged down, knocking his  breath away.  Rolling forward, stood up and it was all over. He  had completed his first descent from an aircraft.  In the following days  it was followed by four more.  The last two jumped with equipment in daylight and finally with equipment at night. He was now a trained parachutist, presented his new parachute wings and sewed them on his right shoulder. As soon as he got back, a shock was waiting for him. Dumping his kit on the floor immediately picked up the three envelopes that had been thrown on his bed while he had been away, two obviously from his parents and a larger brown one with various Royal mail stamps on it at various angles as space was found for another one, along with some ineligible writing. Puzzled, he opened it to find a crumpled,  grubby and travel weary envelope with a jersey stamp on it. Steve's heart jumped , it had to be from Georgiana! With shaking hands he opened it, catching he thought the scent of her. His world went silent.  Ignoring the noise and bustle as the other came in talking and laughing , as he unfolded the well traveled pages dated July 1st 1940. It had taken over a year to catch up with him !

Dear Steve , he read with bated breath , I'm not sure if you will get this letter, I have given it to my aunt Hilda as she has chosen to leave for England as hundreds have on the last ferries that have been sent down to us. I  hope you will understand that although I also had the chance, I  could not leave my mum. I don't think she could stand the stress as she has not been well since we have had German aircraft flying over and around the coast. They have told us that there is every possibility that the Germans who are only a few miles away now on the French coast might arrive here at any moment. I hope you are well and safely away from the bombing and fighting we hear and can sometimes see over the channel. I miss you every day since you left and wish we could have made more of our time before it was over. I am not sure if they will come, but  if they do it's not going to be forever. Something will change over time, we just have to be patient. I dream of our dancing and that kiss every night. Please write back soon.

Love and miss every day Yours  Georgiana.xxxxxxxxxxx

Windy Corner St Marys Village, Rue Mahier road. Jersey

Steve's hands were shaking. He read the words I love you time and time again, ignoring the slap on his shoulder as his mates passed heading for the mess. She loved him and was going to be waiting for him when he got back there!  He nearly jumped for joy as he carefully folded her letter.  Running  in almost joyful leaps to catch the others up, she loved him! She loved him!  Telling the others wished he hadn't  they ribbed him unmercilessly about his school boy crush and the girl he had met on a holiday romance. The next day his breakfast was interrupted by a clerk from the admin office, the boss wanted to see him toot sweet. Stuffing in the last mouthful, left to the puzzled looks from his breakfast diners. Walking in the door was open and the boss sitting behind his desk invited him to come straight in. Steve  stood at ease as his boss did not have his beret on, not saluting him. This was the first time he had even met him, never being in his office by invitation as opposed to an order. Taking him and his office in, the family pictures, some diplomas and large picture of the king behind him The major looked forty something lean faced and obviously fit with steady capable eyes, “we have been waiting for you Steve”  he said  get yourself over to the high security compound, the guard is expecting you, report to Sergeant Atkinson he is the boss of  team six you are assigned to him., “is that clear”  yes sir said  Steve feeling  slightly bemused “waiting for him ?”.  Pointed in the right direction he found the hut and went in asking  one of the blokes who was in charge. Was directed over to a tall lean looking man looking at some maps, who turned and said "welcome Steve,  Tom Atkinson, he said shaking his hand ,you must be wondering what this is all about” ( you bet thought Steve). He called the other guys in the room over , introducing them by saying meet our new member, Steve Macintosh, Steve this is Pete Craftson our lead scout, Dave Berry explosives and medic and finally Stavros as a swathy man stepped in to shake his hand. Stavros is Greek and our signaler, a bloody good one.

We are just about ready to run through some options on what might be our next job. This is where you come in Steve it is in Jersey!  A huge penny dropped! His letter to his parents, the maps and the holiday photographs. They obviously knew all about him and had been just waiting for him to complete his training and para course. “So for the outline” Tom said. The Boss says intel thinks there is what looks like a new type of  radar the gerries might be building at a place called Ronez  on the North coast,  in some sort of quarry. For the time being the RAF is keeping an eye on it with their high altitude recce spits. Going over to the map table Tom rolling out a large map of the island. “Take a good look and make sure you are familiar, particularly with the Northern part” there are potentially some drop zones and lots of crooks and crannies where boats could land. “Although there is a huge tidal variation and we don’t want to be on the beach with the gerrys  breathing down our necks and the tides out”, causing a ripple of murth amongst the comandos .

Steve, still a bit stunned at the turn of events, his eyes went straight to St Marys Village “ that's where Georgiana  is" he thought. Is this really true? “” This is  where you come in Steve, Tom Interrupted his reveri, “you went there with scouts didn't you?”  Steve's attempting to speak  words stuck in his throat, forcing a cough. “ erm we were over her in the St Martin's area and down in St Helier of course  as he said pointing  to the area on the North west end of the island. In the next hour giving  the team  a run down on the narrow roads, high hedges, open spaces and undulating land near the coast.

After a busy morning they assembled again after some food among some enquiring looks from his room mates who had just come back from a morning in the “murder house”, to be told that they were going to do some work up training as they had a new member by mounting an exercise against one of our radio relay stations near the east coast. It would be a para entry. Tom told them using the jargon of special forces, with a boat pick up “exfil“.  Over the next hours they discussed  the details, poured over maps, sorted  radio call signs,  rations and weapons with  drew  blank ammunition for the stens they would be carrying and stood down for the day. 

That night Steve could not get what he knew now out of his head, what would she be doing now?, trying to picture her pottering about in Windy  Ridge cottage. It was only a few miles from the Ronez area where she had said she worked. Could he, should he, he ruminated and immediately dismissed the thought , If it all went tits up and he went into the bag for real, if this lot knew all about him the chances are it would not take long for the Germans to as well and ramifications for Georgiana and her family did not bear thinking about, should he confide in Tom about the girl he loved on the island and withdraw now?  But realizing he was in too deep now and if  any of the team got  even a whiff of what was in his mind, he would be off the any operations and probably with an  RTU back to Bicester REME by the end of the day. The exercise turned out to be a bit of a damp squib, because it was an exercise they took off from the Weymouth field in one of the new American Dakotas so using a side door was a bit of a novelty. But because it was an exercise jumping onto another airfield, at last light with embarrassingly an audience who had come out to watch. Because  the War Department didn't want to cause alarm and panic  if they saw “enemy” paratroopers dropping. 

A night move nearer the target the radio towers on Bawdsey by the river Debden. Avoiding the local home guard who had taken the opportunity to exercise their cordon and searches.  Laying up the following day camouflaged  in some heavy overgrown bushes.  Stavros used his box of tricks signaling by morse back to their base for a situation report and any  further orders. After dark on the second night made their way towards the tower now silhouetted in the night sky. They knew the home guard was providing a  defence force but  slipped by them taking shelter from the biting wind of the east coast in a hut, after dark they passed  the silent manor  house to the base of the tower, tying  tape around each legs  to prove they had been there and withdrew to the pick up point on the Debden. It had been just a bit too easy Steve thought, just a bit of fun really. But they had worked well together and although he had not realised it, had  gelled with his new comrades and in commando team 6.

Morning found them deep in cover by the river, all very cold, tired and wet. On a hard routine they had lived on  biscuits, chocolate bars and in Steve’s case a tin of pilchards in tomato sauce. Not ideal breakfast fare, and where was this boat? They were soon answered by the three tonner pulling up on the road behind them. Whose driver started to use his horn to send “ 0A” in morse for “Base”. Realising the boat was either cancelled or never had even existed!  Trudged out to the nearby road and the waiting lift. .They now had  the prospect of a very long drive in its uncomfortable draughty back. Needing no encouragement, they got their sleeping bags out on the coconut mats  the driver had thoughtfully put in and  slept the journey away, rocked by trucks  familiar back axle whine and undisturbed by the bangs and rattles as it hurtled across the country roads  back to Abbotsbury Swanley .

A week later the job was on and given the code name of “Hardknock” they gathered together in the secure briefing room. Maps open and aid memoirs  ready.  As they listened to their team leader run through what the situation was and how they were going to execute their mission. Steve and probably the others were taken by surprise that they were not going blow the nearly completed new type of radar, that the Intel thought it was, but remove its heart , a thing called a magnetron and any box of tricks inside the control room on at its base, before exfiltrating via he sea. So our orders are  to ensure that the Royal Signals expert  coming with them gets into and out of the target and back to England” and then as is the protocol stating the mission again their mission was to get him in, out and home.

The “entry”  was going to be by Parachute into a drop zone east of Sorrel, at Gr 241564 they all looked at the maps. There will be a diversionary air raid  by two Mosquitos from the Banff strike wing flown down especially who will attack  the  gerry shipping on the French side of the island.  ETA  21.00 We will be jumping from a Dakota at four hundred feet drop height to ensure we all land close together. There was a sharp intake of breath, they all knew four hundred feet was as low as you could jump and get on the ground in one piece. The RV Tom went on  “will be where the two roads meet on the north west corner, then head north to pick up the North coast path. We will move to the target on the Ronex point”.  Lead scout Pete  like  the others studying the “going” on the path between the two, any roads, any choke points if the balloon went up. 

We must avoid and German patrols at any cost  “Once on the target  and gained control of the target then Eric with Stavros will  remove the bits if possible and if not destroy them, as the very last option” once we  start to exfil we need to make for the beach at  Greve de Lecq , we will use the coast path  again allowing  us to move fast . The Greve is as you can see it's a tiny sand alcove. The tide will be out and will not turn until six am. There will be a fast MTB  or similar laying off shore waiting for your torch signal with a red filter and three longs and three shorts  flashed  from  the beach.  They should reply with one flash. Any questions so far Tom asked?.

“Has Eric been through selection," someone asked.”you mean has he done the army commando course, then no he has  brains not  balls unlike you lot! “  There were grins  and smirks around the table,”but he is from 264 Sigs regiment and they have been in some quite tasty  places. He is para trained and has volunteered for this one.  I think he will be ok”. He is not arriving until tomorrow morning. I know he is not one of us, but make him welcome and  treat him like a brother. “Is that clear”   the point made, the briefing continued, "Stand down today and run though between yourselves the mission. In the morning draw a twenty four hour ration pack.  Check the signals schedule please Stav.  Weapons, Pete and Stavros Sten Guns and myself,  Dave and Steve M1 Carbines to give us a bit of distance. Everyone wears their side arm. Dave can you draw a pound of PE , dets and cord please. Be packed and ready to move by 1700 hours for transport laid on to Weymouth field .  Any problems I will be here most of the day tie into the other services. That is all. Thank you.

For Steve poring  over the map, remembering the distance from “Windy Corner” to the pits where Georgiana  worked , wondering  was there any way he could contact or leave a message?  Knowing in his heart that there wasn’t. If the Germans suspected on a local contact as they surely would once the balloon went up. Locals would probably be rounded up, questioned, possibly arrested , probably have a very rough time and if they were suspected of being involved and under Hitlers orders commando’s or saboteurs must be handed over to the  Gestapo and executed within twenty for hours. Ruled any of those thoughts reluctantly out of his head and reminded him that he was in love with a girl not a stone's throw away from their target. Having still  not told anyone! he was now in deep! 

One hundred and fifty miles south Georgiana was cycling to work on a lovely day on the islands, offering a casual wave to any neighbours on her route to work in the  pits.  She had got used to showing the guards at the entrance her pass,  who on the pretext of searching the basket on her bicycle,  gave them the chance to chat her up in their terrible english. Life had changed beyond anything she could have imagined  just a couple of years before.  All  shotguns had to be handed in,  food was being rationed and many had resorted to growing their own vegetables and setting  snares for rabbits to put on the table. Her mother had passed away in the fall of 1940.  Her father never recovered from his  loss and with the onset of dementia  was in  a care home. Their little garage that served the local community had fallen into disrepair, building work was non-existent  as there was no fuel for cars or lorries other than those used by the Germans. Only the pits were still in full swing; the Germans  seemed to be  building all sorts of stuff around the coast that Georgiana presumed where defence works in case or when the British tried to recapture the islands. She could no longer wander around the coast footpath that she sometimes did in her lunch hour because there were mines. She already knew that from the “Achtung Minen” signs. probably protecting  the building with a  big square wire mesh thing on the far side of the pits.  She saw hundreds of bedraggled wearry prisoners now on the island who came  shuffling past each day under  bored German guards who always seemed to be shouting at them. They worked in the pits loading the endless waiting list of lorries. Once a day a commandeered horse and cart  she recognised belonged to the local dairy and driven by a fat German came up with what looked like a large vat with soup  for them.  This always caused a scuffle  as the prisoners  fought for a place in the line. They had a long day and were very often still there when she finished her day and cycled home. The house was very quiet now, and there was no chance of her selling it for something smaller. She often thought of Steve, the boy she fell in love with. He would be a man now and surely one day when the Germans had been sent packing they would see each other again wouldn't they?

Steve found the day before the operation a strange day he felt almost numb in the lull before the storm they were about to embark upon as he sorted his kit, breaking down the ration pack for easy storage, snacks at the top along with the spare battery for the patrol radio, weapons and ammo and waterproofed his  map as best he could. Their new electronics expert had arrived and they had an affable meeting over a cup of tea.  There was a slight shadow  that passed over them as he revealed he was para trained, he had never jumped with equipment. with radios and the like.  The real problems started when in the early afternoon, packing finally finished and starting to prepare their bergens  for the jump.  It  was clear that their radio specialist  hadn't  the foggiest of what to do with this jumble of straps and clips.

Obviously struggling, Steve helped their “tec” specialist  get his rucksack and specialist tool kit stowed in the CPSE . Explaining how it was attached to his harness and belt with a quick release device. The truck arrived and working in a team they loaded their kit before  clambering on for the ride to the airfield. Driving through to the main gate passing soldiers going about their day, many giving them a thumbs up and an occasional unintelligible shout  as they passed. Once out on the road picking up speed, fell  silent  each in their own thoughts  for a ride in the its draughty smoke filled back to the waiting  aircraft, The aircraft was waiting for them parked away from the building's and other parked aircraft. They were early and started to what seemed an age sitting or standing by their kit  quietly talking before being told to board the aircraft. This was a first for them all to both see, ride in and jump from the American aircraft as it sat looking  slightly menacingly Steve thought in the early evening sun. The “ok boys its time”  call galvanised them for their boredom. Fixing the  quick release strap to their wastes, turning the cumbersome bergen in its CPSE carcass, upside down or to clip onto their harness points, they formed up and waddled toward steps leading up to the door.

Engines started as the loadmaster fussed amongst them checking they  were strapped in correctly as the aircraft trundled forward for what seemed  forever until they could feel it  turn as it lined up with the runway centre line and then as the pilot ran up the engines holding the aircraft on its brakes until it trembled as if it was a living thing, then they were off  hanging on as they gathered speed rumbling along they could feel it accelerate then the ride became smooth as they became airborne. Changing to the dipping and swaying as the aircraft climbed out and away from the field. Turning south the loadmaster came back indicating they should look out of the single row of small windows, indicating they had company. The mosquitoes had arrived, sending a tremble of excitement and trepidation through his body. Steve  skewed around his head to see through the tiny misted up window at the nearest escort as it seemed to float undulating alongside them, the wing he could see loaded with rockets.

Steve suddenly felt completely drained, momentarily  closing his eyes to the  steady drone of the engines. Then it seemed milliseconds later when the loadmaster  was coming down the fuselage waving his arms up and down shouting “stand up hook and  and check  equipment” Steve woken from his deep slumber went  into auto drive with the command jumping up along with the others in the swaying aircraft, clipping his Static line onto the steel cable. The loadmaster had now opened the door, cold air rushed in as they all went through the check equipment routine. Steve had been last on so now found himself first as he beckoned forward to the open door grasping each side of the frame, looked down to see nothing but sea rushing past as the red light came on above head.”Two minutes” the loadmaster shouted in his ear holding his static line well clear so it did not get snagged on anything. Momentarily distracted, Steve saw the sea had gone as crossed the coast. The light went green as the  loadmaster shouted “GO Go Go!”  He instinctively jumped, arms folded into the night sky, no sooner out , looking down at the ground looking very close, he flipped the clips and his bergen fell away on its cord. Looking to see what was below it looked reassuringly like the green field he had expected to see, then it was rushing up at an alarming rate. He turned his feet off, clamping everything together, hit the ground,  winded and rolled. He hit the harness release button in the middle of his chest, shrugged it off,  stooping and ran to his bergen. Pulled the centre pin out and as it fell apart pulled his carbine from its sleeve, cocked it, his thumb instinctively under the safety catch to ensure it was safe and looked around in the darkness. He could  see the others parachute's silhouetted and  hear thumps as others started to land. Waiting for one of the team coming towards him ,looked at his compass to see where northwest was moved  off heading for the corner RV. 

Finding the corner he felt some security under the dark hedge at the RV, over the next few minutes the others came out of the darkness breathing hard. They nelt in a semicircle defence as Tom  whispered, is everybody here ? Here boss voice after voice whispered back  after a pregnant pause asking  “Eric are you here ?  was met with silence.”Did anyone else see Eric” Tom asked the obvious,  he wasn't there, they waited as the minutes ticked by. When breathlessly he came out of the darkness  asking for Tom passed through them to tell him he had lost his bergen.

What Tom  said in a loud whisper! How ? when?  I'm sorry Eric reiterated,” I unclipped my bergen but instead of it dropping on its cord, it just disappeared  into the darkness, I really am sorry” There was an audible intake of breath as their leader took in the news. His sharp mind  already calculating how long it might be to find the missing bergen, get to the target, get the job done and get back to Greve de Lecq. Knowing immediately, that with a huge unknown in finding the missing kit, it could not be done. Asking if Eric had any ideas on where he said he thought he was “over the big woods”  that must have been the Pre e Crabbe Tom thought, the big wedge of woods that ran down from the coast between them and the boat pick up point. It was time for another Chinese parliament, there were only two choices, boys Tom whispered , as I can see it  we can abort and head for the pick up. Or collect our para kit  together and get back in the Pre Crabbe wood. Lay up there and search for Eric's Kit tomorrow and go again the following night. Stavros can signal base and get the pick up delayed.  “What do you think?”, he  asked. “We can't  jack it  in now boss”said Pete .There was a murmuring  from the others,'  and the decision made. They set about collecting their parachutes and kit and headed for the woods, setting up a defensive position and a stag with no choice but to wait till first light to check  all  the kit was in and everything looked quiet.

Steve was last on stag the rest of the team lay around making good use of the discarded parachutes to take the chill of  the night air. As the first light started to filter though into the wood he was on tenterhooks as first light was a traditional time for attacks to be launched. The birds had started to sing, which was a good.sign that all was quiet. Peering into the gathering daylight his tense  eyes saw something that made him look very hard  at a hardened  form amongst the tree and shrubbery, was that a person ? Or an animal?  He tensed, unconsciously  holding his breath although common sense told him he would have surely heard an approach but still slipping the safety of his weapon,  thinking should he alert the others,   glancing at how close his nearest patrol member was.Then relaxed admonishing himself as a fool,in the gathering dawn  “man or animal” turned out to be a nothing more than a bush. At first light they did move deeper into the wood, it was about a hundred and fifty yards wide and with a culvert through them provided excellent cover from anyone passing and a defensive position.

Mulching dried biscuits, Tom and Eric  were studying the map. They knew the run-in bearing of the aircraft and thus  given where Eric said he lost his kit. working out the area either side of the track to search, after a brief “O group” Stavrois with Pete were tasked to set about putting up his long end fed aerials so he could try to  contact base with a SITREP on their situation.  Dave was to stay at the LUP with all their kit and Steve was going as close protection to the boss and Eric  searching along the aircraft track for the missing bergen and tools as close  protection. Taking a bearing started to search along its track. The  three moved carefully off  slowly  towards the  edge of the wood. A nervous Steve leading the way through the bushes and around trees, his thumb resting on  the safety catch of his cocked M1 Carbine.

Fifteen minutes later they could  see the edge of the wood with no results. Turning started on the reverse bearing. Half way along Steve first noticed some unidentifiable bits and pieces hanging on some  lower branches. They had found it!  There were grins and  thumbs up all round. They moved forward and stopped in their tracks, they had indeed found it but it was barely identifiable as Eric's bergen. It was completely smashed to bits, the frame buckled and the broken Erics Sten gun would never fire again. It was shaped like a banana. They started to collect the remains together. Everything was busted: the bergen carcass , sleeping bag, ration packs,   Eric's  precious tools were also unrecognisable. The gadget that told if a wire or wires were live  was smashed, wire cutters and a row of five assorted screwdrivers still in there split case, all with a perfect bend in each one.The only surviving tool was to be an adjustable spanner. They stood looking at the remains, it looked to Tom and Eric that the mission was definitely off. Collecting  everything as best as possible returned to the culvert for another Chinese parliament to discuss the next move.

It was a glum team that gathered around their leader.  How did you get on Stavros? no problem comms were sent off their sitrep and  the torpedo boat would again be waiting after last light the following day at  Greve de Lecq. Ok Tom said, carrying on, it looks like the mission is off, we will  lay up tomorrow and move off at last light to the RV for the pick up. All round defence and one hour stags, use out parachutes over our kit in case we get a gerry aircraft stogging about. Eric  can use one as a sleeping bag.  Combine our rations to cater for Eric .” Several said they had eaten all their goodies.  No problem he continued with water from the culvert and stero tabes I think we will need to stay on a hard routine . Any questions?

Steve with a very large lump in his throat said in a subdued voice, "there may be another way boss." A Frown crossed Tom's face, looking at Steve with a laser star, what other idea Steve? He said “I Know someone on the island and I think they run a little garage” .

What ! exploded his boss. You know someone!  Why the fuck have you not said before! What's been so secret for christ  sake!  Now he had their full attention!  I am sorry boss, it did not seem important in the beginning . But after we had the  briefing, I knew where she lived and the distance from the target he faltered.  I could not seem to find the right time to say, who is SHE ?  Tom demanded. Steve, remembering the flak he got when he had mentioned Georgiana  before as his girlfriend , could not bring himself to reveal it now and explained that they had met just before the war when he was on a trip to the islands with  the scouts and they had become pen friends. There was stunned silence. Followed by a million questions. Do you know where she lives ? How do you know she will help and what about her family? They will know that it's a bullet in the back of the head if the Germans know they have helped us! I know Steve protested, but pressed on now the flood gate was open , I not only know  where she lives  but where she works too! Is in the quarry where their target is  Bloody hell! Tom exploded. How do you know if she still lives or works where she said, when was the last letter?   Believe it or not Steve explained it came in a divered letter posted in early 1940 and got to me  after I had joined the unit. But it must have been before the invasion, so I can't be sure. But I have an idea. Ok spit it out he was told. Well Steve explained I could find a suitable place that I could intercept her and if she is welling tell we need some tools. She need not know where we are or why we need the tools. So at worst if she says no, I can't believe she is going to tell the Germans or indeed any one else about me and in any case we would be on the way to the Rv tomorrow night anyway.

Bloody hell Steve! Talk about a bombshell. What do you think, boys he asked the stunned team. For a long time  no one spoke. Then there was after a pregnant pause there was a few nods before someone spoke. Let's give it a go boss. Tom looked from one to the other, each nodding their consent. Ok  let's think about it. You could take a chance on catching her on the way home, but that would mean leaving in  daylight today. Show us where she lives so we can see her  probable route if she is still there. Let's look at the map because in all probability it would be the most direct route possible. No one would divert unless there was some sort of errant.

It was decided that a daylight move on the chance that they would  intercept Georgiana on her way back to her home was unlikely and very dodgy. The best bet was to make for the house after dark and try to establish if  she was still there and then try to ambush her somewhere near the house the next day. The down side would mean a day lying up before getting back to the LUP after dark , so either way another twenty four hour delay.

There was quite a discussion in this third chinese parliament. Before it was agreed that the best bet was for Steve to go. It was only two miles away and they knew it was a big if. She was there she would recognise him. As the light began to fail, apart from the bergen find, it had been an uneventful day ,they could hear  trucks passing, and there had been a slow moving aircraft circling the north coast for some time. Their main immediate concern was that of food as it was running low and they were all feeling the pangs of hunger. As soon as the light started to fail Steve lay on his  makeshift parachute bedding. He let his mind wander about his family, what would they be doing now dealing with the rationing and worries where he and his brother were, was brought back from his daydream  by Tom  moving over to suggest  he thought about making a move. The light was all but gone as was the traffic movement from the pits.  He had decided he would go in light order, just his emergency belt kit and  torch with its red filter fitte and his side arm .

He took a bearing slightly off  of the on the top right hand corner of the village, so he knew  when he got to the village he had to move around the side before he came her house  “windy corner”  on the top corner, because he would almost certainly become disorientated in the multitude of little winding roads and tall hedgerows. With the other wishing him good luck and feeling naked left the wood line and started across the open ground to  the first hedge.  As he anticipated it  could not be climbed over or through, he had to move along until he found the gate. Looking up and down trying to see a way forward there was no obvious entrance he could see and had to take a chance, heart in  his mouth. He ran in a low looping run back along the road  till he found an entrance on the opposite side of the road and into the next field,  this one was more accommodating with opposing gates into the next field. He gratefully noted, there did not seem to be any sign of life on these tiny roads as he made his frequent compass checks making his way toward the St Marys. He reckoned he would only be making about one mile and hour so when the illuminated  dial on his issue watch told him he should be about there found a heap of logs  near the next gate  to look over and could see the darkened outline of the building that must be the village he thought. 

When his heart stopped! He could hear the steady crump of boots, he instinctively ducked as he could see four flat topped helmeted men as they came by. Then in an act of sheer bravado did something that would be one of his stories he told many times in the years that followed, stepped out of the gate and crouching  down as close to the hedge line as he could, started to follow them!. He was amazed to see that they appeared to be marching, rifles slung on shoulders and looked to Steve  that they were just going through the motion of a patrol and clearly were not expecting any trouble of any sort.

After about a few hundred years they turned right, Steve followed very tentatively laying down before the corner peeking around close to the ground in case they had stopped, but saw they were marching on  straight toward the village!  Now emboldened continued  to follow at a distance. Just on the edge  of the buildings they stopped by a darkened vehicle of some sort that must have been waiting for them, it switched  on its tiny covered front headlights, before shortly  moving out of sight.

Steve could not believe his eyes. The German vehicles' lights had illuminated  a sign on a gate with the announcement that it was “Windy Corner” cottage!   His heart thumping in his chest he went forward still very alert, his pistol drawn. 

The house was in  darkness, he thought he saw the curtains move as someone checked to see if the Germans had gone. He moved forward gently opening the gate, it gave a tiny squeak in protest.  When a dark shadow came out of  the back door. Steve, recognising instantly even in the darkness it was Georgiana she  had come  out to put something in the dust bin. He gave a tiny whistle. She stopped instantly turning, said “is someone there”, he stood up heart thumping, going forward  said it's me Steve.

She said Steve?, he yes it's me Georgiana, Steve I'm back! Moving towards him saying Oh! My god is it really you rushing forward  into his arms, they clung together in a tight embrace, her lips found his, Steve realised he was still holding his pistol in his hand, hastily shoved it into its holster and she grabbed his hand pulling him into the house. Once inside they kissed again, “ it really is you she said as they broke their embrace running her hand over the stubble on his chin. What about your parents? He asked about her parents, she said they were not here. In a husky voice full of meaning as she looked him straight in the eye pulling  him towards its large farmhouse table perching on its edge. The  kitchen hearth giving out a dull glow across the room. It felt warm and cosy after living outside for the last few days. She looked lovely in the glow, lifting her night dress pulled him in between her open legs , Steve felt his blood pressure and everything else rising as he unbuckled his belt kit letting it fall  with an enormous clunk on the floor. She  almost feverishly started  pulling at the front of his clothes as he pulled his windproof smock over his head and flicked braces from his shoulders.  He could see the soft downey triangle of her pubic hair. She reached for him, guiding his body into hers, giving a large loud groan as he  fully entered her soft warm wet body. They were consumed with their passion as one,  he could soon feel himself starting to lose control and tried to pull back but she held him firm with her legs locked around his back  letting out an animal gasp as he emptied himself in her. They stayed locked for what seemed an eternity, before kissing her again, as  she released her grip and they sood holding each other.

She pulled him into a second room in darkness. They sat cuddled together, her legs draped over his in mutual satisfied bliss on the settee, I can't understand it Steve , has the British army landed ? she asked. No, he explained, “but why are you here?" she asked at the same time realising it must be the thing on the North point. “ It's that thing the Germans are building isn't it Steve”, she stated.

There was no holding back now he told her the full story of how they were in  the woods,mhad just about run out of food and needed to try and get some tools together that he hoped he could find in her dad's garage. Oh you poor things she said untangling her legs disappeared into the kitchen, Steve could hear the noises of a kettle gong on the hearth and cupboards being opened  as he took stock of the last incredible  minutes as he dressed himself , realising he still had his boots on!

She was soon back with  a mug of tea and a huge doorstep sandwich with  cold meat filling. It was delicious. Between mouthfuls  he took in her lovely mature face and those lovely now serious eyes  as she listened as  he told her his story of what they were planning on doing and what they needed or else that  apart from finding her again it was going to be a complete failure.  She explained her mother had died and father was in a care home.The garage had been locked for years but that could go and look. Steve glancing at his watch knew time was pressing, there was obviously no way they were hitting the target tonight, but he must get back to the team to let them know what the situation was. As there was still time to get the pick up point. Explaining he had to leave soon, she grabbed a dressing gown and took some keys from a kitchen hook,led him through to a door that had not been opened for  some time.  Unlocking it groaned in protest as he put his weight against it and stepped into the dark musty garage. He was startled as a light was switched on showing a car sized space with no windows. A bench with assorted cobwebbed covered tools abandoned on it as if half way through a job. Asking what he needed he said some screwdrivers, wire cutters and if he had one a thing called an ammeter for measuring electrical current. They started to search, and soon  found screwdrivers , spanners and wire cutters.grabbing what he needed, Steve looked around and saw a wood cabinet near the door. Asking what's in there  they opened it to find on  its crowded shelves an ammeter and some jump leads, he didn't know if they needed them, but stuffed them in a bag she had found with the others.

Door locked they returned to the kitchen as he finished dressing and started to buckle his belt kit, she clung to him looking up asking him not to go now so soon, reluctantly he said he had too, but he loved more now that he did when they first met. I'm coming with you, she said. “You cant he said” he replied holding both her arms and looking into her eyes. If the Germans  capture us it's certain death  and for you if you're there too. No you can't and what's more you  must not break the routine of turning up for work as usual. “I don't care” she rescinded aggressively. “I have nothing here for me without you, whatever the Germans might do and on top of that did you know that they had planted mines all around and I can guide you through them! This stopped him in his tracks, they had nor thought of mines at such an early stage. And she was right. Without a recce or inside knowledge it could result  in disaster if someone stepped on one as had happened  to another team on the French coast  a year earlier.

Thinking on his feet said “ go to work as usual,”  taking the heat out of her desire to accompany them , then you suggest an easy to find RV”, he said spot  so as not to confuse her where we can  meet after dark tomorrow night and lead us in. After a few minutes  she said, "What about the corner where you followed the patrol last night?" They are as regular as clockwork so wait  until they  passed and I will meet you there.  It's about an hour on foot ,I know the local lanes. “Gillies” she  called them  that go pretty well straight to the pits. That sounds great now I really  really must go.

She kissed him hard on the lips and with tears in  Her eyes, pressing her dads old tool bag in his arms and said go, go now before I do something stupid.  Once outside caution kicked in and again pistol in hand he made his way to the cross roads and back into the first field.

Thirty minutes later a soft voice challenged him as he approached the LUP. Halt followed by the word “white” stopping he responding  with the second half of the pasword  “ Bison”. He made his way into the middle dumping the tool bag saying I think I got everything. Opening it up to find an old metal flask, sandwiches, some apples and Eric’s precious tools that he looked at with glee. They all wanted to know he got on.  Omitting their  moments of passion, confirmed she now lived alone, was shocked and shaken when he first made contact, but  said she is willing to be our guide the following  night. The boss shook his head. Said “we know where the target is Steve. We don't want anyone who might be a liability. Yes, Steve said, but she knows we’re the mines and thanks to her local knowledge we also know, there are a lot on our route on the coast path!  Driving home his point, said she  also knows  the paths that will get us around the guard post, although she says it’s not manned once the pit stops for the night. “ Ok," Tom said.  point made whats her name anyway, he said Georgiana , “That's a bit posh someone said in the darkness, answering  sharply back to the darkness,said “ she is quite happy to be called Georgie”. They all sat in silence taking in the situation, greedily eating the food and pouring the lukewarm tea into mess tins. “What time and where” then Steve? Tom said, getting out his poncho  for them to lay under. Under the poncho their  faces looked strangely ghoul-like in the red of  Steve’s red filter  their breath showing in the cold night air, as he  pointed out the crossroads and told them the story about following the patrol to their grinning faces. 

Between His stags he lay wrapped in a parachute as the others did not daring to be caught in sleeping bags, tried to sleep but his mind kept going back to her unbridled and demanding passion,  it was his first time and his own passion had also taken him by surprise. There was an air of anticipation as dawn broke, Stavros had raised base to say they were going to carry out the raid that night to confirm that the pick up had been arranged. Weapons cleaned, one at a time. Last of their food consumed. They waited and waited, the day seemed to go on and on being both bored and nervous.  Steve, after a final look at this map folding it away in his side pocket, sat on his bergen enjoying the bird song, letting his mind wander, of  his life changing experience in the last few days. How it  was going to change once this war was over. When he would be able to get back on the island again, hopefully on a ferry this time to spend  the rest of his life with the women he loved. There would probably be children, He might even get he dads garage up and running again. At last the light began to fade , but they still waited, experience telling them that many a look out or sentry would be alert at last light. As the nearest hedge line became a dark shadow they moved out, weapons at the ready. Steve leading then the PC Tom, Stavros next then Eric, then Pete  who had not been very happy at not being able to do the job he was both good at and enjoyed as far as  probably the first person in a  contact could be enjoyable. But  realising that Steve knew the route to the RV. with finally Dave bringing up the rear. Nearing the  Rv they waited bated breath anticipation by the pile of logs Steve had used to look ahead just the night before.

Their ears tuned to every sound of the night heard the steady crump of boots on the road , but instead of going past as they expected , the boots stopped right by the gate, there were some words , the german voices sounded deep and threatening he tried to make himself smaller in the shadows, when they heard the  sound of someone peeing on the grass  through the gate. It seemed to go on and on, blimey Steve thought through his nerves, he must have been busting, it sounded  like the co op horse.  Worried that the unexpected event unnerved Georgiana, he could do nothing. But held his breath until with a clink of equipment being picked up and murmured voices they moved off.

Following the enemy patrol  at a distance until they disappeared around the corner, a shadowy figure emerged further down the road that turned out to be their guide Georgie. She came forward to meet them, briefly kissing Steve as Tom appeared on their shoulder, giving them a sideways look as she explained that there was very little option but to use the roads, although  there were a couple of fields they could use to cut off a corner. It should take about an hour. Tom indicated  to the next two that they should be on the opposite side of the road. They set off at pace, along roads and across fields. An  hour later they slowed  as they entered the obvious edge of the pits. Following their guide along well trodden footpaths around the edge until coming to stop. As they bunched up behind her she pointed up at the silhouetted array and dark outline of the control room. “Ok Tom” said, "Coming forward, “we got it from here”. Almost dismissing Georginana  out of hand with  thanks  for her help. Gave out his orders  .“Steve it's me and you first,  Stav you and Eric follow us in. Once we were In. Get  whatever kit there is in the control room you can.  Then up to the array, Pete you Dave watch our backs. Ok everyone,?  There were grunts of acknowledgement from everyone ,as soon as we’re done. We exfil along the footpath back .Pete you take over, head north to pick up the coast path. With a bit of luck we should be back at  the Greve in an hour in plenty of time for the boat . Ok let’s go!

Steve was shocked at how he had  dismissed Georgiana; he outstretched his hand behind him to grasp her for a brief moment before they all stood ,safety catches were clicked off and they were off.  The clamber up the last bit was very steep forcing them all to scramble up the final yards. Climbing out onto a patch of concrete just short of the cabin. Scanning along its top for any guards , could see none, both Steve and his boss slinging their carbines across their backs, drew pistols and moved carefully along the concrete, followed by Eric and his bag of tools with Stavros. Pete and Dave protecting their rear.

Reaching the door, a very thin faint light fanned out from under the door, inside there was low humming from something electrical.  Steve's hand carefully touched  the door handle to see if it would move. His heart was pounding in his chest, his legs were shaking and mouth was bone dry. He could feel Tom's breath on his face as he nodded to him to go for it.  Pistol at the ready Steve pressed the handle down and shoved the door open , in front of them sitting at some sort of control console, headphones on  its wearer started to turn and he stepped in. Something caught his eye ,turning and saw an officer with his Walther pistol  in hand  turning toward him. They both fired their weapons at the same time with a massive double bang in the confined space. Steve felt an enormous blow on his shoulder, as the German dropped his pistol staggering  back. The blow knocked Steve back into Tom who fell on the floor. The seated operator had jumped up waving his arms, shouting Kamerade, Kamerade. Fell back to the other end of the cabin knocking chairs over to where the officer had collapsed moaning and groaning in a heap in the corner. Scrabbling back on his feet  Tom covering both with his weapon as Steve rolled around the door frame outside  his left arm hanging uselesly down, collapsed on the floor. As Eric and Stav pushed past them  Eric spotted  some sort of isolator on the wall where the cables from the console lead into,  switched it down in the off position, cutting its  cables with his borrowed cutters. Stuffing the console with some difficulty into an  empty Bergen and coming out barging past Pete, who had split Steve's windproof open with his knife and was trying to tie the big thick pad of a “shell” dressing  over the wound on his upper arm. Pete could see the blood leave Steve's face, Steve felt very  shaky from the shock, but instinctively started to struggle to get up.The other stopped him as Eric and Stav were up on by the array. Tom looking through the door still covering the enemy  inside said “get him out of here now!  We will catch you up”.  With Pete and Dave helping him they started the perilous  journey down the steep bank into the quarry, half sliding, heels digging into the bank until they reached the footpath.  Steve groaned with pain. To find an alarmed Georgiana who had heard gun fire  feared the worst, seeing the three of them with Steve being held between them met her worst fears. Controlling her emotions, Steve said," it's going to be alright ,can you walk?”  He nodded, the pain increasing  down his arm and said “there are some DF118 tablets in my medic pack. Get some out please. They rigged a makeshift sling with his cam net  to support his arm into his chest. After a long drink in his parched mouth and two 118s in his body he started to feel better  enough to look at his arm,  it had stopped bleeding, but looked a mess, he was lucky if being shot is ever lucky to be shot,  the German officers little .32 calibre Walther  pistol did not have much hitting power.  Otherwise he may well have had smashed  bones as well.  She took his carbine and bergen slinging  them on her back. The four of them with Pete in the lead moved off as fast as Steve could go, holding his useless arm with his good one. They would have normally covered the three miles in the hour, but the coastal path is rugged with lots of sharp undulations that even for  the fleet of foot care needs to be taken or risk a twisted ankle or worse. A long way behind them they could hear a siren  wailing, its alarm, the balloon must have gone up, spurring  Steve  on faster, unbalanced as he was with nagging pain now back was moving a lot slower than three miles per hour They pressed on, the wind on the north coast whipping them in its  icy cold embrace, even it  seemed to be against them. An hour later they had covered  just over half the distance, The rest of the team caught them up, slightly alarmed with the lead party's lack of progress and Tom even more alarmed to find Georgiana with them. Demanding she had to go back.. He could not see the look on her face ,until on tiptoe her face inches from his the wind trying to whip away  her words  said, “I'm coming with you ,end of, I can't leave Steve  I love him and  any way , it’s too far back and the place will be alive with Germans she shouted. Time was starting to press. Tom had no choice,  she felt the captured Walther  being  pressed into her hand, Tom saying  close to her ear, “use it on yourself if you have too” in a voice thick with emotion. Stepping close asking but not,  ordering  Dave to stay with the two,  Dave realising the consequences could be  fatal, nodded his acceptance, they left them each pating Steve on his good shoulder as they squeezed past some murmuring good luck mate, disappeared into the blackness of the last few hours of darkness, the night seemed darker now and wind colder, they felt very alone as they pressed on again, she holding his  hand forcing him to move faster. they knew what had to be done was done to ensure their precious cargo  would have its best chance of reaching England 

An hour later they stopped on Steve's demand for more painkillers ,overriding her protests that it was too early . We’re alarmed to see  that Dave was missing, hesitating  for a moment, then they had to press on. At last the wind had eased as the  track started its descent down towards the Greves  beach. The path was steep with sudden changes of direction, Steve very often stumbling in his pain-filled stupor, finally stepping on to  its gravely surface to be greeted by the others. Dave was still missing but it was time for Tom who started  to flash the V for victory morse on his red filter torch out  into the black angry looking sea. He tried again, still nothing . Above them on the cliff top there was a burst of automatic fire answered by repeated single shots from what had to be Dave’s M1 Carbine. On  the beach Steve collapsed, totally worn out against Georgiana’s  protecting  arms. The other turned to face the silhouette of cliff tops weapons raised.

Tom tried again, and at last the single red flash from the darkness. Together Pete and Geogiana lifting Steve from his stupor, half dragging him to  the water’s edge. High on  the cliff tops  the firing seemed to reach a crescendo, then stopped leaving an ominous silence.

Accompanied by the put, put of its engine a large dingy appeared out of the darkness, they rushed forward dragging Steve with them wading into the water  as   willing hands  grabbed them pulling them collapsing into its cold wet interior. The engine noise picked up as the boat went astern, there were  flashes and cracks of  weapons being fired from the cliff tops and with the  zip zip of bullets going past them. Pete started to  return fire.Tom slapping on the shoulder, shouting stop ,his muzzle flashes would give the enemy an aiming point, they crouched and preyed as the boat turning into the incoming tide bounced and dipping, soaking them in icy water. There was more firing from lower down now, but the enemy was firing blind. The torpedo boat now joined in with its heavy calibre machine guns firing over their heads in a defining racket as its fire raked the cliffs and beach with its fire, the lines of green tracers arcing out to bounce off In a dazzling fan of  green lights. Its guns stopped as suddenly they were alongside and half pushed and dragged up on its transom by the crew , the boat's  powerful engines turning from a low burbling into roaring  throbbing monster as the  props thrashed the water. The boat came alive ,leaping forward into the gathering dawn.

They lay in an entangled heap of bodies and kit as someone  asked if anyone was injured. Finding them and kneeling by Steve the crewman was surprised that a woman was holding him in her arms. Between them they shifted him into the lee of the bridge, disappearing to come back with a syringe sticking it though his wind proofs into his leg. Seconds later his head lolled against her breast, Georgjana  pulling him into her body out of the wind watched as the silhouette of the islands disappeared below the horizon and to the comforting steady roar of  the boat's engines fell into exhausted, happy, contented sleep.the last thought that flitted across her mind was she  was sure she was pregnant.

Trend Parris February 2025

Addendum: It was  four long years  before they carefully stepped down the wobbly ladder from the De Havilland Dragon Rapide that had carried back to the islands under its biplane wings. As they skimmed over the coast Steve saw people waving  from the coastal track and over there he sat up to see the woods they spent so many days and nights in. Steve’s arm never fully recovered and he was taken off the operational orbat joining the training wing. Being like the others awarded the military cross and Georgiana an OBE for services to the crown. They married and rented a cottage in the village where baby Freddie was born.

The single decked islander bus was waiting for them, the conductor  waved Steve's offer of payment to a round of applause from their  fellow travelers. It was almost as if the past years were almost a dream as the Little Bus wound  its way through the little narrow roads before dropping them with a wave from the driver in the  village. Feeling strange in his  demob suit and with two cases and young  Freddie in Georgiana’s arms.  Walked the few hundred yards to the “ windy corner”.  Their neighbours came out cheering, welcoming them back. They found their new home in a very sorry state. The Germans had wrecked the place, everywhere was under a layer of dust,  the place seemed overrun with mice. But they were home.

They learned the German officer had survived , later someone offered him a bike, the very next day, leaving the family to fend for themselves, he  rode to the cliff top overlooking the beach to kneel and weep as he rested his forehead on the  memorial stone to his mate, who had given his today for their tomorrow.   

1949

PE Plastic explosive 

RTU  Returned to Unit

REME  Royal Electrical Mechanical Engineers

LUP Lying up position.

CPSE   Container Parachute Straps Equipment.  a complicated arrangement of straps because landing with a bergen  attached could result in leg breaks or injury. Once assembled the jumper clipped it upside down onto the front of his own harness with two quick release catches,  once clear of the aircraft it was released  to hang on  a  fifteen foot length of paracord  also attached to the jumper so it hit the ground first.

ETA Estimated Time of Arrival.

RV Ronda-view or rendez-vous

Stag  Taking turns to keep watch.

SITREP situation report

O Group  Orders group given in a circle.

DF 118  Morphine in tablet form.

Cam net . An individual square of camouflage netting for use as a face vail. Many used it as a scarf as well.

 Jèrriais The Jersey Language 

                   The end.

                                  1949