That day brought almost continuous German bombardment. From nine in the morning, until dusk fell just after seven, their campaign was merciless and relentless. Perhaps a hundred planes took part in the raids, in intervals of twenty minutes, exhausting and almost breaking the will of our forces. Or perhaps I would be better saying their forces, for the divide between British and Indian had been made clear to us. Our lowly rank absolutely undeniable. By day’s end, everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same again.
“Where the hell is the RAF?” Captain Morrow yelled, as the second wave of German planes appeared on the horizon.
“They must be tied up,” Sergeant Buckingham replied. “There can be no other explanation.”
“Tied up?” asked Sergeant Davis. “What in God’s name is more important than this?”
The officers had gathered next to a mound of rubble that had once been a seafront café. Only one wall remained, the rest blown apart by a bomb. Captain Morrow held a map and pointed to parts of it.
I was openly listening to every word, no longer concerned about being seen. No longer concerned about their opinion of me. However, the officers paid me no mind, perhaps because the area was so crowded. Perhaps because, like me, they no longer cared either.
“The Germans have sunk a destroyer here,” said Captain Morrow, tapping the map that flapped about on the wind. “The wreckage has blocked access into the harbour at this point.”
“Meaning fewer ships can reach the docks,” said Sergeant Davis. “So fewer men can be saved.”
“They must have a contingency,” Sergeant Buckingham replied. “After all, they must have assumed the Germans would attack. We’re sitting ducks.”
Captain Morrow shook his head.
“I’ve given up second guessing Command,” he told them. “It’s utterly pointless.”
“What about the Indians?” Buckingham added. “Has Captain Ashdown seen sense yet?”
“No,” said Captain Morrow. “And I doubt he’ll change his mind.”
“Must be rather confusing,” he said. “Being English and growing up over there. He’s forgotten which side he’s on.”
“Enough!” said Morrow. “You may keep your opinions to yourself, Buckingham. I will not listen to them. John Ashdown is a fine soldier and one of the most loyal you will ever find. Do not insult him!”
“Sir!” said Buckingham, his face flushed with humiliation.
“And it’s not over there, as you put it,” Morrow added. “India is part of our Empire and we are sworn to defend it. Those men are with us.”
A wave of Stukas appeared from the south, banking towards the port, but letting loose a few bullets as they passed us. Diving for cover, I caught my knee against some rubble and winced in pain. When the Stukas had passed, I sat up to find Sergeant Davis lying dead.
“GET A MEDIC!” Captain Morrow pointlessly screamed.
There was no saving the sergeant, but a passing ambulance stopped anyway, and a couple of nurses jumped out. They tended to Davis, but not for very long.
“This man is deceased,” said one of them. “We’ll have to cover him up. There’s nowhere to take the dead.”
“Dear God!” said Captain Morrow. “Those blasted Germans!”
Captain Ashdown rushed towards us from the beach, holding his cap.
“Morrow?” he called out.
“It’s Davis,” said Captain Morrow. “He’s had it, I’m afraid.”
Captain Ashdown knelt beside his fallen comrade and seemed to say a prayer, or perhaps whisper something in remembrance. I couldn’t be sure because a bomb exploded about a hundred yards away, leaving a massive crater on the beach.
“ATTACK!” yelled Captain Ashdown, jumping to his feet and blowing his whistle.
I hobbled towards the destroyed buildings, hoping to find some shelter, as a second wave of Stukas strafed us. Several bullets ripped into the side of the ambulance and I heard screaming.
“No!” I yelled, rushing to help, despite the danger.
The back of the truck was open, and I clambered aboard. The nurse who’d seen to Davis had been hit three times and was in a terrible state. The other younger nurse fought to find words over her shock.
“S…she…she…”
“Tend to her,” I said. “I will check on the driver.”
Climbing out again, I opened the driver’s door and he fell out on top of me. I pushed him aside with help from a British soldier.
“Can you drive?” I asked him.
“Pardon?” he asked over another wave of explosions and gunfire.
“Drive?” I shouted. “Can you operate this truck?”
The man nodded.
“We need to get it to cover,” I said. “Over to where the nurses are stationed. We cannot lose it!”
I jumped in, the other man beside me, and together we took the ambulance away from danger. Earlier that morning, whilst on my walk, I had found a field hospital, tucked away down a sheltered lane in Malo-les-Bains. I directed the driver towards it. But since my earlier sojourn, part of the route had been blocked by a fallen building and we had to find an alternative, under fire most of the way. The Germans seemed to have redoubled their efforts overnight.
Finally, after taking several more bullets, we edged into the medical zone, where the staff rushed about trying to save as many lives as possible. I jumped out and ran around the back, ignoring my gashed leg, and found the younger nurse crying.
“She died!” the woman wailed. “I tried, honest I did, but it were no use!”
As she wailed, and the driver joined me, I heard a familiar voice.
“Private Khan,” said Lillian. “Changed jobs, have you?”
I turned to her and tried to smile, but there was no humour to be found.
“They were hit on the seafront,” I said. “I’m afraid that one of your colleagues has died.”
Lilian’s face fell.
“I thought we should bring the ambulance to safety,” I added. “It would do no good to lose another. We will need it.”
Lillian nodded.
“Thank you both,” she said. “But there is no shelter here. Nowhere is safe from these monsters, I’m afraid.”
The driver left us, eager to return to his mates, and I sat on the truck’s step and watched as the people around me tried to do their jobs. Lillian held out her hand.
“Come on, son,” she said. “I’ll find you some tea.”
A smattering of bullets ripped into a wall not ten yards away.
“If we’re not killed first,” Lillian added. “Sometimes, I wonder if that might be best for all.”
I nodded and followed her.
“But then,” said Lillian, “I remember the pier at Brighton, and tea and stilton cheese, and I think it would be better to live.”
I thought of my dream, and my grandfather’s view that everything was fine, as long as you had tea.
“Tea would be most welcome,” I said.