Not Flag or Fail (23 page)

We took Lieutenant Baker at his word and took our time showering, shaving and dressing. There were no stripes on the shirts and on the caps there were no badges to be seen, so it was two clean, fresh, but fairly anonymous soldiers who went downstairs to join the others later that afternoon.

Ronny knocked on the Major’s door, which was opened for us by Lieutenant Baker.

When we had all found a seat Lieutenant Baker spoke to us explaining that we would have to be formally debriefed and that the process would take a couple of days to complete during which time Ronny and I would be held at separate locations. This he said was routine procedure and nothing that we should feel concerned about.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of an RAF aircraftman who was carrying a tray containing a coffee pot and cups and saucers. We all helped ourselves and whilst we drank the coffee Rachel Harrison explained that after we had finished our chat she would organise a meal for us and then we would have the night to ourselves. Ronny was to pack sufficient underwear and toiletries for two days, ready for an eight o’clock start to his new location, I was informed that I was to remain here for my debriefing.

The meeting broke up and Rachel took us off to the dining room where she left us to a meal of beef stew and potatoes followed by a gooseberry crumble and custard, life was definitely improving.

Afterwards we took our cigarettes and went for a stroll around the gardens, which although they now lacked care and attention, had obviously once been very impressive.

We had stopped on one of the paths to light our cigarettes when from around the corner came the familiar face of CPO

Smith again, with hand extended ready to greet us.

“Pleased to see you back boys I hope you remembered our little training sessions when you were over there.” he said.

I put my arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer to me. “Smithy you probably saved my life.” I replied.

The three of us fell into step and we continued our stroll, talking about this and that, about anything in fact other than where we’d been and what we’d done, Smithy warning us at the outset that he didn’t want to know.

Eventually the shadows started to lengthen and we slowly made our way back up towards the house.

Once inside Smithy showed us up to the second floor and led us into a large room that was being used as a sort of club room.

There was a full size snooker table in the centre, a table-tennis table in one corner and a well stocked old bar in the opposite corner. We passed a pleasant couple of hours playing snooker and darts and drinking bottled beer until we decided to call it a day at just after ten o’clock.

At six thirty the next morning we were awakened by a knock on the door which preceded the entrance of an RAF mess steward in white jacket who bought in two mugs of tea “Morning gents, compliments of Lieutenant Baker, who’s asked me to tell you that breakfast will be served at 07.00 hours downstairs and transport for Mr Regis is arranged for 08.00.”With that he folded his tray under his arm and left us to it.

With the tea and an early morning smoke out of the way we were soon showered, shaved and dressed and downstairs in the dining room for just after seven. Lieutenant Baker and Flight Sergeant Jones were already eating when we entered and as we sat down I noticed a few crumbs on the tablecloth at one of the places, suggesting that someone had been there earlier and already left. The steward who had brought our tea came over to us and asked if we both wanted the full breakfast? We answered that we did, he then bought us both a cup and saucer and informed us that fresh tea and coffee could be found on the sideboard. Once again we ate well and as we did so Lieutenant Baker outlined what was in store for us both over the next couple of days.

With breakfast over I went upstairs with Ronny to collect a small case that the C.P.O had given him for his trip and then walked outside with him to wait for his transport. The transport, when it arrived, was the Humber from the previous day, again being driven by the same ATS driver, lucky Ronny I thought as I watched them drive out of the gates, you’ve got her all to yourself, well for the length of the trip anyway.

I went back inside the house to find Lieutenant Baker waiting for me. “Right then Alan, if you’re ready we’ll make a start.” he said, gesturing for me to follow him, he led the way down a passage off the main hall. He stopped outside one of several doors knocked and waited, after a few moments a voice from inside shouted “Come in.” He opened the door and I followed him inside.

In front of us on the far side of a large mahogany table sat two officers, a Major and a Captain, both men appeared to be in their fifties and both had a no nonsense sort of look about them. Lieutenant Baker came to attention and saluted smartly and realising the formality I quickly followed suit. “Introduce us please Baker.” said the Captain.

“Certainly sir.” The Lieutenant half turned towards me. “This is Major Cole and Captain Burton, both are with the Intelligence Corps and both are here for the next couple of days to debrief you, following your mission to France.”

“Thank you Lieutenant, that will be all, we’ll see you at lunch I expect.” the Major said looking up at the Lieutenant,

Baker saluted smartly and left the room.

“Please take a seat Sergeant.” said the Captain, indicating the one empty chair on my side of the table, I sat down.

“I’d like to start,” he continued “by thanking you for your part in what was truly an excellent operation. You and Sergeant Regis really did save the day for us by getting those plans back. Maybe in years to come we’ll be able to tell you just how vital that information was to us and how important it was that it did not get into German hands, but for now you’ll just have to take our word for it.”

With that he turned to the Major who looked directly at me, looking back at him I saw that his was a face that had seen and heard it all before. I felt under no pressure because it was my intention to retell as accurately as I could all that had taken place, however the thought crossed my mind that in different circumstances I would not like to try and fool this man.

He explained to me that over the next two days they would ask me to recount every aspect of our mission, including our original escape from Dunkirk, they were not trying to trap us because they had every faith in us but what they were hoping to do, was learn from our experience and be able to put it to good use in the future. I asked why Ronny and I had been separated and they explained that it was standard practice so that the account of one member of a team would not influence that of the other. With that he turned to the Captain and asked him to bring in Sergeant Law.

Sergeant Law it turned out was a woman in her forties, her buxom build amply filling out the ATS uniform, that she somehow managed to wear in a provocative sort of way, that had me starring for a moment or two until I realised what I was doing and looked away embarrassed. She wore no cap and carried a despatch case which she placed on the table in front of her. She opened the case and pulled from it several pencils, an eraser and a writing pad, she smiled at me and then turning to the Major told him that she was ready.

“Sergeant Law will record everything you say in shorthand and then type it up for us later, don’t feel that you have to speak slowly, she has the third fastest shorthand speed in the combined services, so let’s crack on eh?”

The next two and a half days developed into a sort of routine with breakfast at seven, lunch at twelve thirty, a break for a cup of tea at around about three thirty and the days work ending at roughly six pm.

I had dinner with Lieutenant Baker and Smithy and I never saw the Intelligence Corps people after we had finished for the day. After dinner I usually had a game of snooker and a couple of bottled beers, then went to bed at around nine thirty. It might not sound like it but answering all of those questions was exhausting work and on both nights I was struggling to keep my eyes open by the time I went to bed.

Just before lunchtime on the third day the Major finally brought the interview to a close thanked me for my co-operation and told me I was dismissed. I left the room and wandered outside into the garden, glad to be outside.

I lit a cigarette, sat down on an old bench and closed my eyes, feeling the suns warmth wash over me. Still with my eyes closed I took another deep drag on the cigarette and for some strange reason felt myself smiling. A little later I felt a movement on the bench and opened my eyes to see Major Jackson regarding me quizzically, It was his turn to smile and he did so as he spoke “I know that feeling Hibert, you’re feeling pretty pleased with yourself, against the odds you’ve pulled it off and it’s a bloody good feeling eh? But what are you going to replace it with, have you thought of that? Won’t seem quite the same, standing behind an Howitzer on Salisbury plain now will it, a bit dull don’t you think?”

I didn’t know what to say, I watched him take an old leather tobacco pouch from a pocket and methodically fill his pipe, making a show of lighting it as all pipe smokers seemed to do. He sucked on it, watched it for a while, poked it with the spent match a few times until, eventually satisfied, he once again leaned back on the bench and without looking at me started to talk again.

You know Churchill is frightfully keen to start up something that he likes to call Commando Brigades and he’s got one or two of us from different areas having a look at different ways of doing it for him. What you and Regis have just done is exactly the sort of thing he’s talking about, in fact if we told him what you’d done he’d be ecstatic, unfortunately we can’t tell him, it’s just too sensitive. However what I’d like you to think about is taking it up for a living, instead of going back to the bloody Artillery why not stay here and work for me …”

I just looked at him for a while and then jumped with pain as the cigarette I had forgotten about, burnt my fingers.

“You mean do that stuff all the time, you’re not really serious are you? Erm sir.” I said, my mouth staying open as I finished the sentence.

“Why not … . Get in at the start, think about it, it could be a while yet before the Artillery has another chance to get into action, I’m offering you the chance of some fun right from the outset.”

The look of horror that I gave him must have been akin to that of a man waking up to find that the operation to mend a broken toe had resulted in him losing both his legs. I was convinced he was mad… . Fun? What was he talking about?

“Erm I’d have to think about it sir.” I replied.

“Of course you will Hibert, that’s why starting tomorrow I’m giving you and Regis a fortnight’s leave so that you can go home and think about it.”

With that he tapped the bowl of the pipe out on the side of the bench, stood up and with a promise of seeing us at dinner strolled off towards the house.

About an hour later, after a further two cigarettes and a snooze in the sunshine, I stood up and walked up to the house in the hope of being able to find a cup of tea. As I got close to the entrance a small blue Austin Seven pulled up in the car parking area. Lieutenant Baker emerged from the driver’s side and I watched Ronny exit from the passenger seat clutching Smithies little case in his hand.

“Alan how are you?” He called as he shut the door.

“All the better for seeing you,” I said walking over to him and for some reason taking the case from him, “come on I’ll take this up for you then I’m going to try and find a cup of tea.”

“Good idea”, said the Lieutenant leave it to me, I’ll organise something for us, had any lunch yet?” he said disappearing into the house.

Dinner that night was a sort of celebration for us all. As well as Ronny and myself, the others around the table were CPO Smith, Lieutenant Baker, Commander Harrison and of course the Major. The food which was always good was even better than usual.

We had earlier been provided with new Royal Artillery dress uniforms resplendent with Sergeant’s stripes and all of the others were in their bests too. The Major looking particularly dashing with an impressive set of medals, including a military cross, strange I thought that he never wore the ribbons on his khaki? The meal was served by two white coated mess stewards and an atmosphere of comradeship and friendship filled the small dining room.

The Major turned to Ronny and said that it was his turn now and that he thought both he and the assembled guests were entitled to finally hear about our adventure, he cautioned us to not miss anything out because the official Secrets Act would mean that it would be a long time before we got another opportunity to talk about it. So, over game soup, we started our tale, Ronny doing most of the narrative with me adding bits of detail here and there. The story lasted throughout the meal with us finally describing Fishy manoeuvring the RAF Launch into the quay at Burnham on Crouch as the stewards swept the table and the Major passed around the port.

There had been lots of questions from both Lieutenant Baker, who often looked amazed by the simplicity of some of the answers we gave and Rachel Harrison whose eyes sparkled throughout the tale however the CPO and the Major had in the main stayed fairly quiet with just an occasional look of pride coming from the CPO as we mentioned using one or other of the techniques he had taught us.

We had drunk plenty of wine through the meal and I think all of us were a little the worse for wear by the time we went up to bed at sometime after one in the morning.

It was a nice change to be awakened by the steward considerably later than usual at nine thirty a.m. with the obligatory cup of tea “Rise and shine gents!” he said putting the tea down on the cupboard. “Your leave starts at twelve, lucky buggers!” and on that note he was out, closing the door behind him.

By ten thirty we were showered, shaved and downstairs with our kit bags packed, dressed in standard Royal Artillery Sergeant’s uniforms. We’d missed breakfast but a bit of banter with kitchen staff produced two mugs of tea and a pile of corned beef sandwiches which we took outside to eat on the bench in the sunshine.