Most Secret (33 page)

“Over-enthusiasm,” I said. “That’s what you get, you see.”

From bis pillow he eyed me earnestly. “You will see Brigadier McNeil? I cannot say how important it is. They will receive the guns and hide them, secretly, to use to help us when our fellows have to land one day.”

I nodded. “I’ll talk it over with McNeil,” I said. “Have you thought out how you’d get the guns on shore?”

He said: “The fishing fleet must take them from us, five or ten to each boat; in that way they can be hidden and smuggled on shore easily. We will arrange that there is an alarm one night, so that the boats must scatter and put out their lights.” He paused. “An alarm that British raiders are near-by. Then we can make a rendezvous, in the dark night, to pass the arms to them.”

If the fishing fleet would play, that was as good a way to do the job as any other. Distribution before the arms got on shore was obviously sound. “I’ll see McNeil about it when I get to London,” I promised him. “It’s a matter of high policy, of course. For all I know, they may not want to give the Bretons arms just yet.”

Simon said: “In a war like this, sir, policy depends on opportunity. And now, we have an opportunity that will not come again.”

He was obviously tired, and in a good bit of pain. I left him, and on my way out stopped in the office to speak to the surgeon-commander.

“He’s getting on very well, so far as we can tell at present,” I was told. “We removed two fingers—oh, he told you that. Apart from that, he’ll have the full use of the hand, I think.”

“He said that he’d be back on duty in a week.”

The surgeon snorted. “We might discharge him from here in a week if all goes well, but there’s such a thing as sick leave. I shall recommend him for a month.”

“You may recommend what you like,” I said. “You won’t get him to take it.”

There was a short silence. “I agree, he seems to be difficult upon that subject,” the surgeon said. “He’s a funny sort of chap. Foreign, isn’t he? And an army officer?”

“Yes,” I said shortly.

“Anyway, he won’t be passed as fit for general service for at least a month after he leaves here. If he goes back to work at all it must be for light duty only.”

I left the hospital, and went down to the shipyard to see
Geneviève
. She was just coming up on to the slip; I stayed there till the cradle had gone up and we could see the underwater body. Water trickled steadily from a point by the stern-post where the planks had sprung; the foreman said it was the engine and propeller vibration that had done that. At the bow the damage from the shell hit by the stem extended to the water-line; she had taken in water there. Apart from those points she was sound enough, and they weren’t serious.

I left for London on the early train next morning. Colvin came with me, and all the Danes and Bretons travelled in the next coach to us; Colvin was seeing them up safe to London. I rang McNeil from Paddington when we got in; he was in his office and I went there with Colvin before going on to Newhaven to see the admiral.

McNeil had two of the same typed flimsies on his desk; he passed them over for us to read, without comment. They were marked MOST SECRET, as before.

The first one read:

The second one read:

“I don’t get that,” said Colvin. “Was this Germans that got shot, at this place Fort des Fédérés?”

McNeil took the signals back from him. “What it means,” he said, “is that you started a mutiny in the German Navy. These
Raumboote
were ordered to go to Douarnenez, but the crews had heard what happens to
Raumboote
at that port. Some of the men mutinied, and were tried and shot within a day. The
Boche
won’t stand that sort of thing.”

“Say,” breathed Colvin. “What do you think of that?”

I said: “The other one is interesting. I had no idea that the coast was so lightly held.”

McNeil said: “There are strong concentrations inland. But the control of the population is evidently worrying them. They may need more men for that.”

“Well,” I said, “the Russians can do without them.” That was early in October, 1941, when the Russians had been retreating steadily for three months.

“That’s the point,” said McNeil. “That is why we must keep up the pressure.”

I pulled out my case and lit a cigarette. “I haven’t seen V.A.C.O. yet,” I remarked. “I’m going down there now. My own view is that this vessel has done enough. She has been clearly seen now, at Douarnenez, and they know she’s easy meat so long as they don’t get too close to her. I think her usefulness is over.”

“Is that what you’re going to tell your admiral?”

“Subject to what you say—yes.”

McNeil was silent for a minute. “In general,” he said, “I think I agree with you. I don’t think we should send her out again on an offensive operation; she’s getting too well known. I think that she is valuable still because of her great similarity to the fishing vessels of the fleet. I’ve got in mind this gun-running that Simon wants to do.”

“He told me something about that,” I said. “Is it in line with your policy?”

“Yes, it is. A town that’s in that state of ferment should have arms. Tommy-guns and ammunition are coming forward quite well now. I can find seventy for Douarnenez, if Simon can think up a scheme to put them in the town.”

“He wants a diversion,” I said. “He wants the fishing fleet to be broken up one night, so that they scatter without lights. Then he can rendezvous with them in some quiet cove, and pass the arms to them.”

“From
Geneviève
?”

I hesitated. “It would be best to use a ship that looks like another fishing-boat of the fleet for the job, I suppose.”

“I agree,” he said. “She should be useful for some time to come for missions of that sort. But I agree with you, she should not do offensive operations any more.”

“Personally,” I said, “I don’t care much about her doing anything at all.”

“She ought to do this gun-running,” he said.

I nodded. “We might let her do that. But after that is over we should give that district a long rest, or else start something different with another ship.”

We left it like that; that we should review the operations of the ship again after this next trip over to the other side. I left McNeil, and went on down to Newhaven with Colvin that same afternoon to see V.A.C.O. It was dark when we got there, a fine starry night. It was fresh down by the sea, after a day of travelling.

The admiral had us in at once. He got up from his desk as we came in. “ ’Evening, Colvin. ’Evening, Martin. I understand I’ve got to congratulate your vessel on another very good show.”

Colvin flushed with pleasure. “It wasn’t all that, sir,” he said.

“Wasn’t it? I’ve been getting reports all day about it. Flaps in the German Army, mutinies in the German Navy, and I don’t know what beside. But first of all, how is Captain Simon?”

“He’s getting on all right, sir,” I replied. “I saw him yesterday. He’s lost two fingers, but he’ll be out of the hospital in a week.”

“That might be worse.” He motioned us to chairs. “Sit down, and tell me the whole thing. Smoke if you want to.” He pushed forward his silver box of cigarettes.

The story took the best part of an hour in the telling, because he wanted to know every little thing, including every detail of the damage to the ship. Once launched and over his diffidence
Colvin told the tale quite well, in simple direct terms. He had the report that Boden had written out for him in his hand, and now and again he turned to that to check a point.

In the end the admiral turned to me. “So much for that,” he said. “That brings me up to date. What’s the next step, Martin?”

I said: “The next thing Brigadier McNeil wants us to do is to land those arms,” I said. I told him briefly what had been proposed, that the fishing fleet should be scattered by a false attack one night, and in the confusion certain of the boats should rendezvous with
Geneviève
. “Brigadier McNeil can find the guns and ammunition,” I said. “I saw him about that this afternoon. He very much wants the operation to be carried out.”

He eyed me keenly. “Don’t you?”

I said: “I think it should be all right, sir. I don’t think that the ship should do much more after that. She must be getting pretty well known by this time, over on the other side.”

“I agree that we don’t want to overplay our hand. Taking this operation, though, what form would your false attack take?”

I said: “Would you consider sending a couple of destroyers in to get behind the fishing fleet, and shoot up anything that they could find, sir? It only needs a little gunfire between the fleet and their home port—Douarnenez. This would scatter them all right.”

He said directly: “No, I won’t. I won’t even consider it, Martin.”

He got up from his chair, and began pacing up and down in front of his fire, as was his habit. “I told you when this thing began,” he said, “and I told McNeil. I remember telling Brigadier McNeil in this room that I wouldn’t send destroyers up to the front door of Brest to help him out if he got into trouble. And now that’s just exactly what you’re asking me to do.”

I was silent.

He turned on me, though I had not spoken. “However small the risk may seem to be, I won’t do that. You must keep a sense of proportion. This is a very minor operation of war, Martin. It has to do with a fishing-boat and a few Tommy-guns. To make that operation a success you say that we should risk a million pounds’ worth of ships and upwards of three hundred men. Well, I won’t do it.”

I knew my admiral fairly well by that time. “Very good, sir,” I replied. “Could we send a couple of motor-gunboats over for the job?”

He stopped short in his pacing. “That’s more like it!” he exclaimed. “All you want is something fast, to let off a few guns and make a noise. They can drop a depth charge if they want to make a bigger bang. Yes, I don’t mind a couple of M.G.B.s. You’ll have to see Rear-Admiral Coastal Forces, though, and see if he can work it in for you.”

We settled it upon that basis, and he made us stay and dine with him. We caught the last train back to London after dinner and got back at about eleven, very tired.

I fixed up Colvin for his convoy job next morning, which was Thursday. Then I settled down to work, to clear up the arrears that had accumulated while I was away. It took me all the rest of that week to get my normal routine straight without touching any of the paper that related to
Geneviève
, so that by Monday morning I was glad to see young Boden.

He turned up bright and early. I settled him down on the other side of the table to me and got him going; he proved to be intelligent and apt at office work. In fact, he was a good deal more accustomed to it than I am; Dartmouth and life at sea don’t fit one for an office chair or make it easy to dictate to a shorthand-typist. He was a great help. He took all my telephone calls when I was out and took them right, did the right thing with people who looked in to see me, and got the
Geneviève
papers into splendid shape with only minor guidance from myself. I was very sorry, I may say, when his leave came to an end.

He was sitting opposite me at the table one day when I happened to mention Colvin. “The East Coast convoy gets to Methil to-morrow,” I said. “Colvin should be here on Friday.”

“He’ll be in time for the meeting with Rear-Admiral Coastal Forces, then,” said Boden. “Do you want him in on that, sir?”

“If Simon hasn’t turned up by then, I do,” I said. And then I said: “I must say, you fellows have a queer idea of leave.”

He smiled. “Colvin hasn’t got anywhere to go to in this country. He left it just after the last war.”

I wrote my name at the foot of a minute and tossed it into the out-basket. “He was going strong with a young woman at Torquay at one time,” I said.

“I think that’s all washed up,” said Boden. “He hasn’t been
over to Torquay for the last month.”

There was a pause. Presently he said: “After this next operation, sir, the ship will pay off, won’t she?”

I leaned back in my chair. “I think she will,” I said. “We haven’t come to any decision yet, but that’s what it looks like to me. If we decided to pack the whole show up, what would you like to do?”

“Do you think I could get into Combined Operations?”

“In charge of one of the landing craft?”

“That’s what I’d like.”

I thought about that for a minute. “It’s rather a waste of your anti-submarine training, isn’t it?” I said.

He said: “That’s what I’d really like best.”

I nodded. “I’ll remember that. C.W. Branch may get a bit sticky; if they do you may have to go back into anti-submarine. But I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s awfully good of you, sir.”

“Not a bit. What about the others? What about Rhodes?”

Boden said: “He isn’t a sea-going officer. He’s colour-blind. I think he’d be quite happy in a shore job after this.”

“Maybe,” I said, thinking of the Wren. There was a pause while I lit a cigarette. “Do you know what Colvin wants?”

The lad said calmly: “I know what he wants well enough, but he won’t get it.”

I stared at him. “What does he want?”

“He wants to go back to the West Coast of America. He left his wife out there, in San Francisco.”

“I thought he wasn’t married.”

Boden grinned. “That’s what he likes people to believe. It may be true, legally. Probably it is. But that doesn’t stop him wanting to get back to her.”