WHILE THE CROWD OUTSIDE MILLED AROUND WAITING FOR THE film to start, Major John Randal, Jim “Baldie” Taylor, Lieutenant Dick Courtney, X-Ray, and Vanish knelt inside the checkpoint command post tent, drawing in the dirt. A Gold Coast border policeman was standing guard at the entrance and another one was around back. Even so, the men talked in hushed tones. When planning a dangerous enterprise, you can never be too sure; and sometimes there really is a native hiding behind every bush.
Though nothing had been said to that effect, Major Randal was clearly in charge. He diagrammed the German safari camp in the dirt with the tip of his Fairbairn and placed little bundles of broken twigs where the tents were lined up. Small stones represented the vehicles in the motor pool.
“Situation . . .” Major Randal began casually, but doing it strictly by the book, Baldie noted, focusing intently on every word. “Mission, this is a snatch mission, my favorite kind . . .”
The briefing lasted a full half hour. When it was finished, every man present knew exactly what his role in the night’s undertaking was going to be, step by step, from the time they rolled out of the checkpoint until they rolled back in with Colonel Doctor Rudolph von Himmel in tow.
“Line of departure time is 0200 hours,” Major Randal concluded. “What are your questions?”
“You realize, of course,” Baldie pointed out, “everything we do from this point forward is in breach of King’s Regulations, as interpreted by the local authorities?”
“We can show the movie,” Major Randal said, “and then go straight to bed if you’re worried about getting into trouble, Jim.”
“Not bloody likely!”
“Lieutenant?”
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” Lieutenant Courtney answered enthusiastically.
“Let’s do it,” Major Randal said.
Lieutenant Courtney served as the master of ceremonies. The Colonial Film Unit’s cinema van’s generator powered a small string of lights strung up in front of the screen. Arching back in a semicircle the local Gyamans sat on the ground in family groups; behind them were the unofficial visiting Gyamans from across the border. Behind them, outside the ring of light, glowed the lime green eyes of a pack of curious hyenas that had silently crept up to observe the proceedings.
After the newsreel of the first pinprick raid was shown, Major Randal was called on to come forward to make a short speech about the operation and to tell how no German sentry was safe at his post anywhere on the French Coast. Major Randal kept it short and simple, pretty sure they did not understand a single word he said.
Tonight there would be a triple feature, and the cinema crew had been instructed to show all three back-to-back. When Major Randal ended his speech, the first Charlie Chaplin film came on. That was the signal for the Gold Coast police/SOE snatch party to quietly depart.
The plan was as simple as could be crafted: a four-man team led by Baldie and guided by Vanish would enter the tent occupied by Count von Himmel and his better half, overpower the couple, and gag and secure the two with handcuffs. A four-man team led by Lieutenant Courtney would surround the tent occupied by the Ashanti askaris and prevent them from interfering should the alarm be sounded. Last, Major Randal and X-Ray would be responsible for ensuring that the four SS men did not leave their tent in the event the balloon went up.
The signal that Baldie had the prisoners under control and ready to be moved out of the camp was for Vanish to step out of the tent and slap the flat of the stock of his Enfield rifle three times. Poles had been cut and plans made to lash the SS husband-and-wife team to them, with eight men designated as porters, four to a pole, to transport them back to the Ford Model A police truck. The idea was to move fast.
In the unhappy event shooting broke out, Major Randal would take command of his and Lieutenant Courtney’s team to cover the extraction and conduct a fighting withdrawal.
A giant rat cheese moon made navigation easy. The Gold Coast border policemen unloaded quietly from the truck. The troops assembled into their teams; then, without a word, Lieutenant Courtney and Vanish stepped off and led the way to the objective rally point. They made good time.
After a last quick leaders’ conference in the ORP, the teams moved out, creeping through the bush to their release points. The objective was not hard to find since the camp was lit up like a Broadway musical on opening night. Candles were burning everywhere: on poles stuck in the ground, swinging from improvised candle holders dangling from tree limbs, and flickering in tin cans lining the walkways between the tents.
Actually, it was more like Halloween. Trick or treat!
The order of march by teams was Lieutenant Courtney followed by Major Randal and then Baldie. The lieutenant and his team peeled off, and the SOE man and his team proceeded on to their target. The policemen drifted into the camp one at a time. The idea was that if one of the enemy was awake and looked out of his tent, all he would see was someone wandering around, not a fighting formation.
It was eerie; no one was stirring, but a chorus of snoring rose from the various tents. Everyone appeared to be fast asleep.
Major Randal barely had time to move into position with his silenced High Standard .22 at the ready when the sound of three sharp slaps on the wooden stock of an Enfield rifle sounded.
X-Ray reappeared at his side and they folded in on Lieutenant Courtney. Both teams then moved rapidly to where Vanish waited at the flap of the Nazis’ tent. Stepping inside the SS man’s private sleeping quarters was like entering something out of the Arabian nights. Colorful oriental carpets splashed the floor; two big overstuffed chairs covered in zebra skin sat next to a queen-sized bed draped in acres of white gauze mosquito netting. Sterling silver candle chandeliers swayed, giving off a mellow flickering light.
The porters were at work securing SS Colonel Doctor von Himmel to a pole. He was naked except for a red rubber ball strapped in his mouth. A woman, apparently Mrs. SS Colonel Doctor von Himmel, was already tied to a pole. She was demurely attired in a black leather bra, short black leather skirt, tall black riding boots, and her husband’s SS hat with the silver death’s head insignia pinned above its highly polished bill. The woman had a rag stuffed in her mouth and was wiggling furiously against the restraints.
“That was quick,” Major Randal said.
“Not much to it,” Baldie replied, shaking his head. “She had him handcuffed to the center pole of the tent when we came in. The hard part was finding the key.”
“Let’s get the hell out of Dodge.”
“Moving now, Major!”
The Flying Bathtub took off at first light. About half an hour later, they flew over Lieutenant Dick Courtney in the Ford Model A truck trailing a plume of dust as he headed toward Accra with their precious Nazi cargo on board. Ninety minutes later the little airplane flew over a small convoy that was speeding toward the end of the improved road. Lieutenant General G. J. Giffard was in the convoy, which was rushing to the border to see what mischief the hated SOE chief of station and Major John Randal were perpetrating. The vehicles were nearing the point where they would reach a dead end and have to leave the road to move cross-country.
“Hope Lieutenant Courtney doesn’t run into them.”
“Never fear,” Jim “Baldie” Taylor said. “Dickey is a very capable lad.”
The pilot then scribbled a note, put it in a message sock, and banked low over the convoy. He dropped it in front of the general’s staff Buick.
“What did you have for the general, Jim?” inquired Major Randal.
“Sorry we missed you. See you back in town.”
When the Vichy French discovered that the entire Gyaman tribe had crossed over into British territory, they immediately lodged an official protest, blaming Lieutenant General G. J. Giffard for “luring them across the border.” They claimed, truthfully, that the general was physically present at the checkpoint to welcome them when the tribe arrived. Overnight the governor of Gold Coast Colony, who had dispatched the general to the border to personally investigate Jim “Baldie” Taylor and Major John Randal’s doings, had a full-blown international incident on his hands.
The fear and panic in Accra was that the Gyaman crossing might cause a domino effect among other tribes along the border. What would be the Vichy and Nazi reaction? Would that be the trip wire to invade? All eyes in the Gold Coast Colony were locked on developing events inland. No one was paying any attention at all to what was happening at a small bungalow on the beach not far outside Accra.
Had he planned for a year, Baldie could not have come up with a better diversion to serve as cover for Operation Lounge Lizard.