On the Edge of Darkness (Special Force Orca Book 1) (17 page)

O
’Neill sighed.

“
And don’t you sigh at me! I’ll put your bloody eye in a sling, so help me I will!”

The copper had company
now; it seemed as if the whole station had turned out to watch his chastisement.

*     *     *

Nuneaton

When he came into the room Goddard’s mum was sitting down in her favourite chair. She was painstakingly wrapping the wool, salvaged from one of his Dad’s old pullovers, around a cardboard milk bottle top.

“
What’s that you making , mum,”

“
Handbag dear, you string ‘em all together, like this,” she pointed to a pile on the chair next to her.

“
Oh nice… Look mum, I’m all packed… I’ll be off in a bit.”

“
I’ll make you a last cuppa shall I?”

H
e looked down at her, something in her voice, her eyes were full to the brim.

His eyes
were stinging now, “You stay there, I’ll make the tea.”

*     *     *

Silvertown

“Ear it comes, Luv,” said Maude, as the Number Ten rounded the corner. He kissed her quick and picked up his bag. The bus slowed, stopped and started to empty.

“
One last kiss,” she offered him her lips. He kissed her again, she held him very tight.

He took her shoulders and held her
away at arm's length. Jumping up onto the platform he turned. “Bye, Luv!” he yelled above the revving of the bus’s engine. “ ‘Ere afore I go, what’s it like to be an 'onest woman?” A few heads turned in their direction.

Maud
ignored them, “It’s daft, after all we’ve been together all these years, but I do feel different.”

“
What’d yer mean different?”

“
Oh, I don’t know how to say it, I ain’t got the words…I feel like I belong to someone.”

“
Who?” he called as the bus pulled away.

Chapter 9

Birth of the Killer Whale

Admiralty, 0930 hrs, Monday, 6
th
May, 1940.

Vice Admiral Sir Walter Mackenzie, KCB, DSO, Head of Special Operations, put the folder he was reading down and came around from behind his desk. “Arh! Barr just been rereading that report of yours, inspiring stuff.”

Barr shook hands,
“Thank you sir.” he stood to attention while the old Admiral resumed his seat with a grateful sigh. The yellow Labrador in the corner of the room rose to his feet and wandered over to the desk. The old sailor pulled absent minded at the dog’s ear, “Have a seat…The Minister was particularly pleased with your work. He’s ex-army of course…horses and all that… had the gall to say that all this charging in knocking them for six and charging out again was in the best traditions of the bloody Army! Anyway it looks as if you may have given him a few ideas, for a start there’s this,” he threw a piece of foolscap paper across to Barr’s side of the desk and raised one bushy eyebrow. The expression of inquiry slowly changed to a smile as he watched Barr’s face.

“
Well, I don’t know what to say…”

“
Thank you could be in order… Commander, but I’d think, in your recently promoted shoes I’d wait to hear the rest before I ventured any thanks. That’s what I should have done when they took me off half pay and gave me this bloody job. I realised, too late, that they only gave me the post because no one else wanted to sail this dammed desk…Mind you, there are some that say I got it on merit, cloak and danger stuff coming naturally to a scheming old bastard like me!”

Barr smiled
, “I am grateful for my promotion, thank you, sir.”

“
Arh well, there’s always a price to pay for promotion, my boy, especially when it’s out of turn like yours, and in your case it’s a practically heavy one…here it is.” He lifted a thick folder and passed it to Barr.

The newly promoted Commander only had time to glance at the cove
r, before the Admiral continued. Stamped on it, in large red letters, were the words ‘Top Secret’. Under that, in black, was the title ‘Special Operations Group’.

“
In a nut shell, what that ‘desk-banger’ says is that, as of now, you are the leader of an independent group, code name ‘Orca’. It will comprise the ‘Nishga’, the two E-boats that you captured, in addition you will have two of our own motor torpedo boats. You will, under my command, carry out special operations against the enemy held coast of Norway.” He paused to pull furiously at his pipe, from the midst of a cloud of acrid smoke, that would have done a First World War coal-burner proud, he continued. “Now, as you know the land war is not going… at all well, is probably the most diplomatic way of putting it. Between you and me it won’t be long before the army has its back to the sea. Doubtless it will be the Andrew that has to get them out of the soup they’ve managed to get themselves in. Now, you are probably thinking, what’s new, we’ve done that so many times it’s a wonder the British Army hasn’t evolved webbed feet. And you’d be bloody right. What is new, however, is the First Sea Lord, Churchill. It’s refreshing to have ministerial backing, for a change.

You will form part of an operation that is set to grow in the weeks and
, who knows, even the months to come. If we evacuate, or rather when we do, France will not be able to stand alone for long. It’s only a matter of time before Hitler’s little lot will own the whole bloody coast from Norway, south, to the Iberian Peninsula. That’s three thousand bloody miles. Jerry will be able to launch attacks on our shipping from any of a dozen ports. He will be able to launch attacks by U Boat, E-boat and surface raider. He will have full use of these port’s facilities to repair and replenish.

Remember the Hun very nearly crippled us with just a few
U Boats in the last do and from nowhere near the number of ports he’ll have available to him this time round.”

“
That’s a pretty grim picture you paint, sir. But, we’ve been there before with the Kaiser and with Napoleon and neither of them made it across the Channel. I believe Hitler will have his work cut out, remember what you were saying works both ways. Three thousand miles is a hell of a lot of coastline to defend it gives us a wide selection of targets.”

“
You are nothing if not confident, I’ll say that for you, personally I’ve no doubt we will prevail in the end. What I’m trying to get across to you is the magnitude of the task. It will not do to underestimate the enemy, the next few months will be crucial. If we can show him the Navy’s not beaten … even if our ‘Pongoes’ have had their arses well and truly kicked. There is still a good chance the Hun will think twice before launching an invasion of this country and unless he invades he cannot win and he cannot invade without first beating the Navy and nobody has ever managed that.

If w
e can hit Jerry where it hurts, prevent or seriously disrupt his building an invasion force, sink his ships in their harbours, give him a bloody nose. Really, what you’ve been doing in Norway over the past few weeks, only on a much larger scale. Assemble a whole network of Olaf’s gathering information about Jerry’s plans, hit him not only with your group, but with others too…everything available. If we can make him realise that crossing the channel will be too risky… that the Royal Navy is still a force to be reckoned with, he’ll back off… and then he loses.”

“
He who hesitates is lost, is that it sir.”

“
Barr… you know…That’ll do nicely for ‘Orca’s’ motto.”

Chapter 10

Preparation

  The two M.T.B.s turned gracefully, entering the peaceful harbour in line ahead. It was a beautiful May evening, a star-buttressed sky reflected in the mirror-calm of the bay.

The
base had been chosen well, tucked away from the main shipping lanes that crossed and criss-crossed this part of the Irish Sea. The small bay lay between the Isle of Man’s eastern ports of Douglas and Ramsey to the north.

Lieutenant Benjamin Crosswall-Brown
’s M.T.B. led the way in towards the heavily camouflaged ‘Nishga’. His men lifted the netting with their boat hooks and feed it aft hand over hand as the three huge Isotta-Fraschini engines purred at slow ahead. A hooded torch moved about the destroyer’s sea boat’s davits pointing the way to where they were to berth.

While his men tied up the second
M.T.B. Crosswall-Brown studied with interest the two E-boats moored to the destroyer’s quarterdeck.

He had met them several times
before both on the east coast and in the Channel, but it had always been at night, fleeting glimpses by the flickering light of battle.

He knew the German
’s called them Schnellbootes, S Bootes for short, he had no idea why the British called them E-boats.

Unlike the Royal Navy
’s M.T.B.s and M.G.B.s they were fitted with diesel engines, they were a lot longer and at least half again wider in the beam. They were fast, capable of forty knots, as was his own M.T.B. The difference lay in their respective armament. He looked with special interest at the twenty-one inch torpedo tubes and the twenty millimetre cannons. He paid particular attention to the Flak 28 on their sterns. It was this gun that had been the telling factor in many an encounter in the Channel, easily outgunning the British M.T.B.s machine guns.

The RAF were havin
g the same trouble pitting the Spitfire’s Browning machine guns against the Messerschmitts cannons, with their exploding shells. He shook his head, it was like fighting with your bare hands when your opponent was wielding a bloody great sledge hammer.

A shout from the
‘Nishga’s’ deck broke into his thoughts.

“
Fine evening Lieutenant Commander Crosswall-Brown.”

H
e peered up into the dark.

“
Well I’ll be buggered. Robert, by all that’s Holy…what are you doing here?”

Grant smiled,
I might ask you the same thing, I work here. This is the detached duty I told you about.”

“
You mean we’re working together… how absolutely, bloody, splendid!”

“
Watch your head, sir!” called a seaman from the destroyer’s deck. The man kicked at a short rope ladder, unrolling it down the destroyer’s rust streaked side. Crosswall-Brown grabbed at it eagerly and scrambled up.

Grant saluted
formally and shook hands warmly, gripping his friend by the elbow as he did so. “Ben, I can’t tell you how nice it is to see you again. The ‘Old Man’… Commander Barr… you’ve met? No, not yet, well, he told me about your promotion and that you were to command the M.T.B. side of things.”

“
This is a turn up for the books, you wait ‘til Charlotte hears. What a bloody coincidence!…I say you’ve made an impression there, what? Every time I speak to her on the phone she manages to bring the conversation around to you.”

“
She made quite an impression on me, as well.”

“
So it seems! No accounting for tastes. Just what did you get up to after I left the two of you alone…I hope your intentions are honourable.”

“
As honourable as yours in your dealings with the fairer sex, old man.”

“
You bounder!” laughed Crosswall-Brown, “Never get to see the real thing much these days, these are my little girls now. What do you think?” He waved his hand the length of the two M.T.B.s. It was as if he was caressing them.

“
Very sexy, Italian engines I read somewhere?”

“
Yes, that’s right. Isotta-Fraschini. Forty knots official top speed, though, between you and me I’ve got forty-seven out of the beauties.”

“
I didn’t know they were that fast. She’s a Vosper boat, isn’t she?”

“
The new ones aren’t, retrograde step if ever I saw one. For some reason they put different engines in them, Hall-Scott’s I can literally run rings around them. Twenty-five knots on a good day! I ask you, haven’t we enough of a disadvantage against E-boats as it is? I can make twenty five knots using the old Ford V8 we are fitted with for silent bloody running!”

“
What is she sixty five or seventy?”

“
Seventy footer and strong as an ox, mahogany and birch. The frames are only a foot apart! Although in truth I’d have preferred a B.P.B. The ‘Old girl’s’ not too bad. She was built for the Chinese originally, but then along came the war and we nicked ‘em, before they could be delivered to the Chinks.”

“
Come and have a look at my little command,” said Grant. The two friends turned aft and walked side by side back towards the darkened and silent E-boats.

“
That’s new!” Crosswall-Brown said, catching sight of the blue and white ribbon on Grant’s chest.” Super, DSO, eh? I say, they’re not giving them away with packets of cigarettes now, are they?”

Grant smiled
as he climbed down the Jacob’s ladder, “How did you find out…but it’s still an honour, they don’t give them to just anybody. You have to be a twenty-a- day man…That’s new as well.” He was pointing at a ramp welded to the ‘Nishga’s’ quarter deck

Crosswall-Brown looked with interest at the framework
. “Bit like a depth charge ramp, bit bigger I suppose?”

“
It’s one of the ‘Old Man’s’ ideas, fitted recently, while we were having a boiler clean. You’ll find him full of ideas. It’s to hold the spare fuel for your M.T.B.s as a matter of fact. The idea is you can dump it overboard in a hurry, if needs be.”

“
Wise precaution, highly inflammable stuff. So it’s just ‘out pins’ and over she goes into the hog-wash? Good idea.”

“
And then there are these,” said Grant jumping deftly across onto the E-boat’s stern, he pulled off a canvas cover. “The first on any operational boat.”

Crosswall-Brown was looking at another metal
structure; this one was mounted on a turn table. “What on earth is it?”

“
This, old boy, is the new depth charge launcher, shortly to be fitted to the fleet, the swivel bit is the ‘Old Man’s idea… that makes it even more experimental. When the launchers are eventually fitted to escorts they won’t have the swivel. They have enough room on their arse ends for one each side so there’ll be no need for the ‘Old Man’s modification. Of course it’s a different story on our cramped quarter decks. To tell you the truth I don’t think the Admiralty even know about the turntable. I think the ‘Old Man’ bribed the welding foreman with a bottle or two. With this little beauty we can drop two-hundred and ninety pounds of Amatol right in Jerry’s jolly old lap and this bugger,” he patted a depth charge fondly, “will blow a hole in any hull as long as it lands within twenty feet.”

“
How do you get on for ammo, old chap? I suppose you’re all right for Bofors’ ammo, but these other guns, hardly standard Navy issue.”

“
We keep what little two centimetre stuff we have for this chap.” Grant patted the machine gun. “The for’ard one we never bother with under normal circumstances.” He shook his head, “Jerry doesn’t bother with it either.”

“
I know why, I’ve come across them on the East Coast. These high fo’c’s’le rise up out of the water at high speed, consequently they can’t depress the gun far enough to engage surface targets. Bit of a design fault if you ask me. The earlier boats S fourteen to S twenty-five had the lower fo’c’s’le no problem. Different story with these though.”

“
Of course, I forgot I was talking to an expert. Personally, I still have it manned at low speeds or when there is a risk of attack by aircraft.”

“
My knowledge is confined to that gained by bitter experience on the wrong end of the barrel,” boasted Crosswall-Brown, a smile on his face. He pointed to the stern mounted Bofors. “No design fault there though, those blighters are terribly deadly, old man.”

“
Bit of a rum deal having our own guns turned on us.”

“
The Bofors? Not strictly ours, old boy… Swedish made, I think. Most of the E-boat’s skippers have managed to have them fitted now, captured during the first few months of the war, not always from us though... Jerry knows a good gun when he sees one.”

*     *     *

Captain’s Day Cabin, HMS Nishga.

“Good morning gentlemen, sorry about the early start, but there is a lot to get through… lots to plan. I trust you all enjoyed your leave.”

Barr paused while murmurs of assent and a few jibes passed around
the packed day cabin. Unlike many Captains he was always glad to hear it. He saw it as an important ‘barometer’ to gauge his ship’s company’s morale, a happy ship was an efficient ship.

He pulled aside a white cloth covering an easel, as he did so the overhead lighting reflected on the untarnished gold of the new third ring on his outstretched arm.
He found himself staring at it, he saw his wife sewing it on, sitting by the coal fire in their cosy parlour… with considerable mental effort he pulled his attention back to the present situation.

“
Those of you who have sailed with me before may recognise this particular chart,”…again the laughter. We are returning to our old hunting grounds on the Norwegian coast. Only this time we go there with a larger force and with larger responsibilities.

But,
I’m forgetting myself; before I go into details, I would like to take the opportunity to welcome Lieutenant Commander Crosswall-Brown and his men. Motor torpedo boats 34 and 35 are very welcome additions to our merry band.” He smiled, “I believe they are better known as the ‘Dirty Four’ and the ‘Dirty Five’,” he paused briefly before he continued. “As, I think, most of us foresaw, the war on land has taken a turn for the worse. If… or, as seems more likely, when Jerry takes Norway, he will use her ports to threaten our sea lanes all the way from the north of Scotland way out into the Atlantic and up towards Iceland. The whole of Norway could well become a giant launching pad for his U Boats, his surface ships and his aircraft. It will be vital that we get information on the movement of his forces. We want to know when his ships sail, when his aircraft take off, we want to know in what direction they are heading and in what strength.

Collecting this information is one of three main tasks we have been entrusted with.
“He flipped the chart up and secured it with a clip, underneath was a short list. “First, ‘Gathering Information’… When ‘Orca’ ceased operations on the Norwegian coast we already had an embryo network of information gatherers in Olaf…” Grant noticed Barr’s eyes dart to a prompt sheet in his left hand, “…Kristiansand and his friends. Now, while we have been enjoying all the comforts of home and hearth, he has been, out there, adding to this list of ‘friends’. He has gone about this in rather an ingenious way. Each new recruit was required to recruit one other person, that person is known only to the person who recruited him or, indeed, her. I’m sure you can see the advantages of this method of enlarging the ‘Network’. No one person will have knowledge of the whole organisation, not even Olaf himself. Now, our part in this is simple, we will be there to pass the information on to our intelligence people. In the first instant it will go to Lieutenant Grant’s E-boats who will rendezvous with Lieutenant Commander Crosswall-Brown’s M.T.B.s. They will carry the information to the intelligence services based at the ‘Flow’.” He raised a hand to silence the murmur from the men in front of him. “I know… I know, it is long winded, but it is the way Mr Kristiansand wants it. His people have no training in Morse code and he will not allow any of our agents into his organisation. It’s early days yet and I’m sure he will grow to trust us more.”