8. Shipping Out

"ALEC, ALEC, STOP A MINUTE, BOY," THE SCREECHY voice of Mrs. Tanner demanded. "I need to speak with you."

Alec couldn't believe it. Old Mrs. Tanner had seen him returning from the docks. He had gone there after tea, needing some time away from the inn to think.

"Alec. Alec Curtis. Stop this minute and talk to me!" she called again.

At first, Alec pretended he had not heard her—had even taken a couple more steps along the sidewalk. But then she called a third time, and he turned and walked back toward her. He stopped in front of her shop.

"Yes, Mrs. Tanner. What do you need?"

"I don't need anything, boy. Rumor has it things are jumping in the military encampment up there on the cliffs. Someone said it looks like the whole lot is preparing to ship out. I thought maybe there was talk on the docks and you might have heard it."

"No, Mrs. Tanner. It's Sunday. Nobody's at the docks today. I was just on my own, skimming rocks off the pier."

"The man who delivers my milk says the pubs are humming with rumors about troops leaving and more destroyers heading to France. Seems to me that you would hear all sorts of talk and bits of news at the docks. He says there are tunnels beneath the castle, running for miles, and that some of the BEF are billeted there."

Alec knew she was looking for gossip from him. Though he'd never heard anything about tunnels under the castle, he resisted the urge to ask about them. She was not going to trap him into being her messenger.

"Maybe you've even been in those tunnels beneath the castle? With your cousin?" she said.

"No, Mrs. Tanner, that tunnel business is news to me, too," he said, controlling the excitement he felt rising within him. "Can't say as I've ever heard anything about any tunnels up on the cliffs. I haven't been up there in months." He thought of Georgie.

"Well, I am puzzled," Mrs. Tanner persisted. "I would have wagered a few shillings that you, Alec Curtis, would know more about this war than just about anyone in Dover. With those soldiers living at your parents' inn, I just imagined you would know it all."

"Sorry, Mrs. Tanner." Alec shifted his weight from one foot to the other, letting her know he was anxious to move on. "Well, I've got to go. Aga will be looking for me to help her." He hurried on down the street.

He was glad, in a way, that Mrs. Tanner's questions had been so specific; he had been able to answer without actually lying. On Friday, when he was fetching a letter for Specs, the blokes sorting the post had said the mail would be slowing down soon. More of the troops on the hill were shipping out to France, they'd said. But Mrs. Tanner had asked about the docks, not about the post office, so he hadn't lied, though he felt a twinge of guilt at being so deceptive. At the same time, he remembered Mrs. Tanner's cruel words at his friend Margaret's funeral. Margaret would understand, he thought.

Aga's face was blotchy and red when he came in the back door of the inn. She wiped her eyes with a tea towel.

"What's wrong, Aga? Has Father been in here looking for me again?"

"No, Alec boy, your father's in the drawing room. I've just heard the news about our guests. They've got their orders; they'll be leaving Dover tonight. Going over to France on some mission. Oh, those poor young lads. God help them." She sighed and then buried her face in her apron.

"Tonight?" Alec said. "Are you sure? Why tonight?"

"No other details—at least from the lieutenant. The message came from Vice Admiral Ramsey himself, delivered by army courier about an hour ago. They're all upstairs packing their kits and getting orders from the lieutenant. Oh, Alec boy, I can barely stand to send tham off. Especially that young lad, that Will. He doesn't even look old enough to go. What's to happen to him? What's to happen to all of us?" Aga sighed again and settled into a chair to collect herself. "No one's ever ready for war, Alec lad. But eventually, people just charge on through."

"It's what they've been trained to do, Aga. It's why they all came. They've been waiting for this."

"Aye, you're right. I just remember the Great War, and I don't want to see that again; I don't want to lose any of those boys. But you and I—we need to be about fixing the best supper they're ever had. At least we can send them off with full stomachs. God only knows when they'll eat well again once they leave."

Rising from her chair, Aga moved toward the vegetable bin and began chopping and stirring. Alec stayed with her, forgetting about Mrs. Tanner and scrambling around to fetch what she needed. Then, when she had calmed herself, Alec left and went up the back stairway to room four and knocked on the door.

Will flung open the door and then seemed disappointed to see Alec standing there. "Oh, it's you, Alec. How are you, mate?"

"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, Will."

"No, it's just ... the lieutenant said he'd let us know if there was further news on our orders. I thought maybe you were him."

"Aga told me about the courier's message. She says you're to go tonight. Is that true?"

"'Tis true. You must keep it to yourself, but we're to be ready to shove off at twenty-two hundred hours. We'll be going out of Dover on a minesweeper called the Gossamer. Headed over to France, but I'm not sure what port. The lieutenant says he'll tell us once we're under way."

Alec looked around Will's room. He had gotten used to seeing each soldier's nightstand holding his few belongings. The mens stories were hidden among the items. But now, as Alec scanned Will's room, he was saddened to see Will collecting his things. The family photograph remained near his bed. Alec found himself staring at the faces.

"I couldn't pack the photo just yet," Will said, noticing Alec's attention to it. "I'll wait until we're ready to leave to put it away. Me family's going to wonder now about me. I won't be able to post a letter for some time, I expect. I hope me mum will understand."

"She'll know that you would write if you could," Alec reassured him. "Besides, you'll be back soon. Why, you may go over there and rout the Jerries before a letter could be posted."

Will was sitting on the bed now, looking like a child waiting for his first day of school—wanting to get on with it but afraid all the same. Staring out the window, he touched the cross hanging around his neck.

"That's a fine cross," Alec said, trying to ease Will's mind.

"It was a gift from me grandda when I finished me first catechism class. It's a Celtic cross—with a circle for Christ's death, but also for hope. Me grandda told me to think of it as forever dóchas—forever hope. I never take it off."

Alec nodded. He admired Will. And the faith he carried in the cross made him even more likable. Alec knew this moment was difficult for Will, who was torn between his devotion to his fellow soldiers and his duty as an only son. Yet Alec also imagined that if Will had been sitting at home right now on his own bed, he would feel even worse. He was a soldier; he wanted to help England.

Aga's right, Alec thought. No one is ever ready for war. Eventually, people just charge on through.

For a few minutes, they sat quietly on the bed. Alec wanted to say something, but he felt that anything he said would sound weak to a young man facing a war bigger than either of them could imagine. Then Will broke the silence. "We've been taught to set explosives that can be detonated from a hundred yards or more," he volunteered. "Sometimes the loads are packed with only enough power to upset a lorry, but some charges can blow huge craters in the roads or demolish a bridge. We're prepared to take out everything—from the smallest pillbox to a German tank or a French bridge."

Alec listened. He knew that Will was probably telling him things he should not be hearing. But he also knew that Will needed to talk, needed to pass the dreadful minutes that were dragging by as he waited to board the ship that would soon take him to the war.

"It's turned out to be one of the most important times of me life," Will continued. "I wasn't supposed to be much more than an infantryman, but the lieutenant spotted me hustling about the training camp. Said he needed someone small and quick. He got me orders changed and brought me to Specs and Harry. We're part of the Foresters regiment, trained to come behind the ground troops. We'd do anything to save each other.

That's what makes all the training worthwhile; we know we're guarding each man like we'd guard a brother."

"To be going out tonight, after dark, you must be needed badly," Alec said.

"Aye, but we're late getting into France. Thousands have gone ahead of us. I don't know why we're shipping out like this. The lieutenant knows more, but he's not saying just yet. I'm not sure where we fit in, but given what Hitler has already done in Czechoslovakia and Poland, France could be next. Even with our troops in Europe, the Jerries haven't been slowed. No turning back now."

Alec smiled as Will stood up, looking taller, a bit more sure. He played nervously with the cross around his neck, brushed at his shirt and trousers, then adjusted his beret to hang just so over one eye. He stuffed his things into his rucksack—maps, his mess kit, a few tools, and the photograph—and swung the sack over his shoulder. A round steel helmet, reserved for combat, hung from a strap and banged silently against him. Alec found himself hoping that Will would never need the helmet, but the soldier standing before him seemed ready now for what lay ahead.

They faced each other, Alec shuffling his feet, not knowing what else to say, and Will still tugging at his uniform. Then Will stretched out his hand to Alec, who shook it.

"Make the Jerries sorry they left home, Private Sweeney," Alec said, recalling Harry's words from their first supper at the inn.

Will smiled and whispered, "Aye, Alec. That we will."