With just two MLs we were able to load and set sail in daylight. Daylight was something of an exaggeration. It was a murky grey day with drizzle. It was a long voyage and we would not be lying up in Kent. An MGB accompanied us and I was delighted to see Bill Leslie. He was still alive. We had little time to talk but I told him of the disaster on our last voyage. "It wouldn't be down to your lads, Tom. That Williams was a mad bugger. He seemed to treat the war as a game."
"You sailed with him?"
He shook his head, "He was in the flotilla for a while and I got to see him in action." He pointed to our officer. "Lieutenant Jarvis is sound. He might look like he hasn't started to shave but he is a good sailor."
As we bounced across the Channel I mentally ran through all that I would need to do. We were landing at Sangatte just south of Calais. The meteorological boys had worked out the tides and we would be able to leave from the same beach at Sangatte. It meant that the other section and Lieutenant Reed would have a longer journey but that could not be helped. The backup plan was for us to be picked up from the cliffs at Gris Nez. I, for one, was hoping that we would get off from Sangatte. It was close to where Louis Bleriot had flown across the Channel for the first time. A beach departure was preferable to a cliff climb. The thought of descending a cliff at night to catch a launch was a frightening prospect.
Our packs were heavier than ever. Despite our best efforts we had had to bring more than ever before. The ropes, the TNT, and the clocks were all invaluable. We would just have to tough it out. Bill had been right. Our Captain knew his business. His leading hand came to us and said, "Just half an hour to go lads. Get ready."
This was our second such landing and we knew what to expect. The tide was on the turn and the young lieutenant was able to run us in a little closer so that we barely got wet. The water came to just above my knees. I was the first ashore and I ran up the beach and then crouched with cocked gun. I scanned the shoreline but saw nothing untoward. More importantly I heard nothing either. It was a narrow beach and the road, according to the maps, was just fifty yards from the beach. Connor ran up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I ran the fifty yards to the road and threw myself to the ground. There were a couple of houses but neither was closer than a hundred yards from our position. The Navy had done their job well. They had landed us at an isolated section of occupied France.
I half stood and, without turning, waved the others forward. We would travel together as far as Marck and the others would then make their own way to Oye-Plage. It was only three miles from our target and would just take them an hour longer. I would be the scout for this raid. My knowledge of French and the fact that I had scouted before made me the obvious choice. We had studied the old road maps from before the war and we had decided to risk using the D 247. I took it as a mark of the Lieutenant's confidence in me that he thought I would be able to spot danger before it struck us.
I led us towards Coquelles, a tiny hamlet. The late hour and the curfew ensured that no locals were out and about. There might be German sentries and patrols but I hoped that I would see and hear them. We were wearing our rubber soled shoes and we were silent as we almost crept along the tarmac. Each time we neared a house or a building I slowed down. Our equipment was so well designed that it did not make a noise but I was taking no chances. I had a great responsibility upon my shoulders.
We reached the outskirts of Calais. I smelled tobacco and wood smoke. I waved the others to get into a ditch. I crawled snake like, towards the road junction. There was a sentry box and a brazier. It was a check point. I turned and waved Gordy forward. I pointed ahead and made the sign that we had to disable the guards. If we killed them then that might cause a bigger hue and cry. Dead men would enrage their comrades. This was not a good start to our raid but there was no point in making it into a disaster.
We moved together and separated close to the sentry box. I heard them speaking. I calculated that my target was just to the right of the box and was poking the fire. I ran up to him and, wrapping my left arm tightly around his neck with my forearm on his Adam's apple I put my right arm behind his neck and pulled hard. The move was called the Japanese strangle. I had not yet used it in action. I knew that too much pressure would kill the guard and not enough would enable him to shout. I needed to make him lose consciousness.
When I felt him go limp I released him and lowered him to the ground. I took his belt and fastened his hands together. I used my knife to cut two long pieces of leather from his equipment and tied his feet together and then his hands to his feet. Finally I ripped his shirt in two and gagged him. Polly had joined me and we dragged the unconscious sentry into the ditch were we hid him with his greatcoat. Norm and Gordy brought the other. The Lieutenant nodded his approval and waved me forward again.
We managed to make another two miles before I saw in the distance the dim lights of a vehicle and heard the sound of a Kübelwagen. I waved us all into the ditch. I hoped they were heading for Calais. If they went to the crossroads they would find the unconscious sentries and would then search for us. After it had passed I rose and I began to run. It was time for double time. To my left I could see the airfield in the distance. We were close to our target. I expected more signs of German security nearer to the field and, sure enough, I heard dogs barking in the distance. I left the road and led the two sections across the field to the distant road, the D 940. I doubted that the Germans would be patrolling the fields but the road was a different matter. As we crossed the field I was aware that it was trodden down and, even in the dark, I could see the patches where tents had stood. We were crossing what had been the camp we had seen. As we approached the road I gave the signal to halt and then made my way to the hedge which ran along the road. I peered over it. I could see, less than six hundred yards away, the airfield. I looked to the right and saw the dark shape which I now knew to be the wrecked farm.
The road was empty and no one was coming and so I clambered over the hedge and then waved the others forward. I watched in the road as they crossed before me and disappeared into the field on the other side. Gordy led them to the wrecked farm. He took them around the outside to the back door where we all gathered our wits.
Sergeant Grant said, "Right, sir. You keep on this road for three miles and you should find the other airfield. There is a hedge and a ditch if you need to hide."
"Understood Sergeant. Good luck lads and see you on the beach."
As my old friend, Sean Higgins, passed I clasped his hand, "Good luck Sean."
He grinned, "Don't forget Tom I have Irish blood in me! We were born lucky."
They slipped out of the back and disappeared. We took off our Bergens. My shoulders ached. I pitied the other section. They had three more miles of travelling with their heavy Bergens.
"Curtis, you stay here with Gowland and Lowe. The rest of you bring your pistols and wire cutters."
We left out of the back and made our way to the airfield perimeter. The first thing I noticed was the barbed wire on the top of the fence. They had also cleared the undergrowth from the bottom. That was a problem. As I had feared they had replaced the damaged section. However what they had not done was stop the animals from burrowing their way in. The ground at the bottom was soft and easy to shift. We did not cut out a whole section of wire. The wire was hexagonal and we cut through three of the strands in each section. A cursory glance would make a sentry think that the wire was whole but when we came to break in, half of our work would be done. We cut a section which was six feet long and two feet high. It took time but we would be able to get inside quickly the next night.
We wearily made our way back to the farmhouse and I saw the first hint of dawn in the eastern sky. I was not certain that the other section would have achieved what we had done in the time available. We had had the advantage of knowing where we had to go and what we had to do. The Lieutenant and the other section would have to discover this for themselves. We had set up the sleeping rota before we left England and I crashed out almost immediately.
Daddy woke me with some tepid tea. We had brought a flask with us. It was a luxury but, at that moment, it was worth it. "Everything all right, Sarge?"
He frowned, "I am not sure. There was a great deal of activity on the road just after dawn. Lorry loads of troops heading towards Gravelines. I am guessing that they found those sentries."
"Sorry about that. If we had killed them they might have thought it was the resistance."
"That would have made it worse for the French. No you did the right thing. It was just unfortunate."
"Have the fighters taken off yet?"
"Nah, it's pissing down, like it was yesterday. It looks like they are grounded."
"That's good then."
"Why?"
"They are more likely to have full tanks."
"That makes sense."
We had been shown by an RAF mechanic where the drain tap on the tanks were. We were lucky; we knew the type of aircraft we would have to deal with. The other section had more variables. If they had not flown then they would still be ready to fly with ammunition and petrol loaded.
"The problem is this rain, Sarge. If we open the tanks too early it will mix with the water and might not burn."
He shrugged, "We will have to wait and see."
We spent a tense day worrying if the Germans would come down the track and find us. They didn't.
As soon as it was dark we left the derelict farm and made our way to the fence. It was still raining; it was a fine rain. It was the kind my grandmother had said, 'soaked you'. For us it helped. Any guards on the field would not wish to venture far from shelter. And visibility would be down to a few yards. We were less than a hundred yards from the place we would enter when I heard the dogs. They had three German Shepherds, Alsatians. I was glad that it was wet. The rain would have washed away any trace of smell we might have left when we had cut the fence. After they had gone we hurried to the fence. The trouble was that they would return and that could cause a problem. We did not have the luxury now of setting our bombs, opening the tanks and then most of the section leaving. We would all have to wait longer and that increased the danger.
It took forty minutes to finish cutting through the wire so that we could slip through. I went with Ken and Bill to set the charges in the aeroplanes. I had told them how to open the cockpit. As I was placing mine in the cockpit of the 109 furthest from the fence I saw that Ken could not open his. I signalled for him to put it next to the wheel. We had been told that the bombers would be over at midnight. It was now almost eleven. I set the timer for eleven fifty five. When I heard the reassuring tick tock of the clock I climbed out, shut the Perspex and went to the drain hole. The rain was even lighter now but I waited. I saw the other two watching me. It was my responsibility. I watched the fingers of my watch edge around. I knew that the bombers could come a little early or a little late. It would depend upon the wind and the air.
At eleven thirty I could wait no longer. I signalled to the other two and unscrewed the drain cap. The petrol flooded out. The tank was, indeed, full. We each had an old pan we had taken from the farmhouse and I now filled it with the fuel. Although there was a slight slope I needed to make a petrol fuse to the aeroplane. When I saw the shimmering river of fuel I made my way to Bill's aeroplane. The fuel from my 109 had flowed towards his. We hurried to Ken. Bill poured some of his fuel so that there was a line of petrol from my aeroplane to Ken's. We used almost the last of the petrol to lay a trail to the fence. I kept a little in mine to make sure the fire started.
Daddy waved half of the men to form a semi circle some thirty yards from us. Our escape route would take us back to the road and was the reverse of the route we had taken coming. I had tried to dissuade Daddy telling him that our attack on the sentries would have alerted the Germans but as the alternative was going through Calais, he was adamant we would risk our original plan.
At eleven forty five I happened to look at my watch. I thought I heard the faint hum of engines to the west but then I convinced myself I was imagining it. Suddenly, to the north, in the direction of Oye-Plage I heard the sound of small arms fire and then the crack and bang of grenades. I turned to look and saw a sheet of flame leap into the air. There were more explosions and I saw something large explode.
"That's done it! Right Tom, set off the petrol!"
"Hang on Sarge. We still have a little time. I can't hear the bombers yet."
I saw him chew his lip. A klaxon sounded inside the field at the same time as the air raid siren went off.
"Well it's too late now to worry. Do it!"
The sirens told me that the bombers were on their way. I took out the matches and lit one. I threw it on to the petrol. The water had thinned it out, as I had feared. I threw another two matches and then the half pan of undiluted fuel. It caught. As the flames danced towards the first 109 I saw German lorries leaving the airfield. They were going to the aid of Oye-Plage.
"Sarge, we can't go the way we came, the Germans are on the road. We will have to go towards Calais, through the town!"
Just then the flames struck the first 109 and engulfed it in flames. "Follow me. To the west!" Daddy led the way. I took out a Mills bomb and put it in my pocket. I cocked my Thompson. I had gone no further than a few feet when Bill's bomb went off. He must have set the timer too short. The first 109 went up and the explosion knocked me from my feet. That probably saved my life for when Ken's aeroplane went up the wall of flame washed right over my head. Finally my 109 went up and I heard the bombers overhead.
I struggled to my feet, my ears ringing and ran after the rest of the section. The German dog handlers had raced out when they heard the explosions. I saw the three dogs leaping towards my men as the Germans unslung their guns. I dropped to my knee and fired four short bursts. Two dogs went down and two of the handlers. The third turned to fire at me and I emptied the rest of the magazine into him. I quickly changed magazines and caught up with the others just as Gordy shot the last dog.
Then the bombs fell. The section hit the ground. "No lads! On your feet! This is our best chance to get through Calais while the air raid is on."
Daddy nodded, "The Corporal is right keep running!"
It made all of our training runs seem easy by comparison. Our fires meant that the bombers could see the field clearly. They had come in lower than I had expected. The German searchlights danced around in the sky looking for them but the gunners had less success than in daylight. The sudden attack had caught them unawares. Even though the bomb run was accurate the shock waves of the explosions were close enough to knock us from our feet a couple of times. As we approached the road which ran between the field and the coast I saw a German machine gun post less than a hundred yards away. They saw us and traversed the gun. God smiled on us that day. The last bomb in a stick scored a direct hit on the emplacement and killed all within.
Daddy ran directly down the road towards Calais. We knew that the town was in no danger but the locals did not and those who had been on the street were desperately taking shelter. Any Germans were running to the airfield to fight the fires. There were so many fires now, as ammunition and fuel caught fire, that it was almost like day. As we ran through the French town I almost smiled. No one was looking at the road. Their attention was either on the skies or on their own safety. The odd person we saw did not even seem to see us.
I heard the bombers receding. Daddy halted us close to the harbour. It was partly to regroup but mainly to get our bearings. The port was a complicated place. We had to get across the port, the ancillary buildings, the suburbs, and then drop down to the beach. That would enable us to run along the shoreline to Sangatte where, hopefully, our MLs would be waiting. He took out the map and pointed to the far side of the harbour. I nodded and we set off once more.
Here there were more Germans. The port was closely monitored. Fortunately most of the guards were inside the port complex and their eyes were on the sky. In the distance we could hear the sudden crackle of gun fire as ammunition went off at the field. However I also heard the bark of small arms fire too. Was it our mates having to fight their way out?
I don't know if it was his old wound or carelessness but Bill Becket suddenly tripped in front of me. I had to hurdle him to avoid falling. I stopped and helped him to his feet. "Are you hurt?" He shook his head. "Then let's go we are losing the others."
The short delay meant that the others were almost eighty yards ahead. I saw Daddy's arm as he waved it to the right. We were heading for the beach. I knew, from the mental map I carried in my head, that we had just three hundred yards to go before we reached the relative safety of the sand. As the rest of the section began to cross the bridge over the small canal which ran into the dock four Germans emerged from a guard hut. There was a crack of rifle fire and I saw someone go down. Bill and I kept running, firing short bursts as we ran. Two dived back into the hut and two fell. I drew my Mills bomb and pulled the pin. Without breaking stride we passed the guard hut at full speed and the two dead Germans. I rolled the grenade into the building. Ken and Polly had picked up Connor who had been hit. As we reached the other side of the bridge there was a crack and an explosion behind me as the hut was blown up. We were showered by falling wood.
We had no time to tend to Connor. Bill and I turned to look back. There appeared to be no pursuit. Daddy took the section ahead and we followed. When I felt sand beneath my feet I felt a little happier. Fifty yards down the beach we stopped and Daddy looked at Connor's shoulder. It was a mess.
"Gowland, Lowe, watch the road. Ken, get the Aldis lamp from Connor's Bergen. You are signaller now."
"Right Corp."
I changed magazines and fitted a full one. I had one full one left and a half used one. If we had the chance I would reload my magazines from the spare ammunition in my Bergen but I hoped that I would not need it. I looked at my watch. It was two o'clock. The MLs were due between two thirty and three. Their orders were to stand off until we signalled and then close with us.
I heard Daddy's voice, "That is all I can do. Poulson, you carry his Bergen." He threw the Tommy gun to Gordy. "Here you can be Two Gun Tex!"
"Right Sarge."
"Corporal, you and Becket are tail end Charlie!"
"Righto!"
"Right lads, down the beach and let's find these boats!"
As I looked north and east I saw the glow from the burning airfield. I saw flames shoot up and then die back. We had achieved our objective but I couldn't help thinking about the lieutenant and the other section. The early attack was ominous. It suggested that something had gone wrong.
We moved backwards down the beach until I heard Daddy say, "Mines! The beach is mined! Head to the road and be sharpish!"
When we reached the road Norm said, "I can see a light flashing. It must be the launch."
"Curtis, signal them and tell them the beach is mined. Tell them we will go to the backup point at Gris Nez. We'll be there in an hour!"
As the Aldis began to chatter I said, "We have a wounded man."
"I know and dawn will break in two or three hours. We have to do it in an hour."
"It is almost six miles and we have to do a descent down a cliff too!"
"We are Commandos, Tom, and we don't give in."
I nodded, "Then take them down the road. I will catch up with you."
As we had approached the beach I had spied a clutch of buildings just off the main road. It looked to be a garage of sorts. I ran back to it. Approaching it cautiously I slung my Tommy gun and drew my Colt. I moved towards the building cautiously. I spied a car but it was too small to carry all of us. I went around the back to see what else was there. Suddenly there was a light from behind me and I turned to look down the barrel of a shotgun. It was the garage owner.
I did not have time for any kind of deception. "I am a British Commando. We have a wounded man and I need a vehicle to get away from here."
The barrel of the gun was dropped and a grin appeared. He nodded to the north, "Your work?" I nodded, "Well done. Follow me." We went out of the back and there was an old beat up Citroen tow truck. I looked at him, doubt written all over my face, he shrugged, "She goes."
I threw my Bergen and Tommy gun in the back. "Thank you. I hope you won't get in trouble for this."
He laughed, "What can I do if the gangsters from England steal my truck?" He shook my hand, "They have my land but I can still fight. Good luck my friend."
I got behind the wheel. It was not the smoothest gearbox in the world and had no power but it went. I headed along the road. I did not use lights but I had the window down and said, every hundred yards, "It's me lads!"
Half a mile down the road the section rose like ghosts from the ditch. "Lift anyone?"
Daddy grinned, "A bloody miracle worker is what you are old son. Put Connor in the cab with Tom; the rest in the back."
We were close to Wissant when I heard a crack from the beach at Sangatte. I wondered if a German had followed us and triggered one of his own mines. I hoped so. When we reached Tardinghen I turned off the main road and drove gingerly along the smaller, spiralling road. It twisted and turned until it passed through the tiny hamlet of Framezelle and then we were at the cliff top. The rather dubious brakes barely stopped me. We emptied the truck and then, with Daddy guiding me I backed it up close to the cliff edge. Reverse gear was hard to find! The tow truck's hook would be used to secure the rope. It meant we could abseil down with a securely fastened rope.
"Corporal, you take charge here. Curtis you and the lamp will be the second down after me. Poulson and Barker, rig something up so that we can lower Connor down the cliff."
"I'm fine, Sarge. I can make it on my own."
"You are fine when a doc in England says you are. Until then you are an invalid."
"Sarge I can hear the ML engines." Becket pointed out to sea.
"Right Curtis, let's go. Harsker, you take charge here."
Daddy slipped over the cliff closely followed by Curtis. Poulson and Barker had made a sling for Connor. "I feel like a bloody mummy in this!
"Good that means you can't move. Polly and Gordy you abseil down next to him. Gowland and Lowe you lower him gently." I watched as the injured man disappeared over the top.
There was just Norm and I left to watch. Suddenly Ford said, "Corp I can hear something coming along the road. It sounds like a motor bike."
I turned, "As soon as Connor is down you pair follow and tell the Sarge we have company. We will follow when we can."
"Right Corp!"
I joined Ford at the top of the road. I could see three pairs of headlights, dim though they were, and there was a motorbike and sidecar, without lights well ahead of two other vehicles. One appeared to be another motor bike while the second looked to be a German vehicle of some description. I took out a grenade and laid it on the ground before me and then cocked my Thompson. "Wait for the order eh Norm?"
"Right Corp."
I lined up my gun so that I could spray the bike and side car. I was just about to shout, "Fire!" When I heard Sean's voice shout, "Commando Higgins inbound!"
I took the situation in a flash. The motorbike had the remnants of our friends. "Norm, it is a friendly but the ones behind aren't!"
Sean and his motorbike spun around behind us as the first Germans appeared. We fired our guns in short bursts. Norm hit the rider with his first volley. We had to dive out of the way as the bike kept going with a dead rider. The gunner tried to jump out but his webbing got in the way. It plunged over the cliff.
The Kübelwagen behind had a machine gun. They made the mistake of firing too soon before the barrel could depress enough to hit us. We both fired and then, as my gun clicked empty I reached down and pulled the pin on the grenade. The Kübelwagen did not follow the motorcycle and the driver spun it round, barely avoiding the tow truck. The grenade landed in the vehicle and we threw ourselves to the ground. The concussion from the explosion made my head ring and the debris flew the air. I stood and drew my Colt. There was no one else following.
"Keep watch, Norm!"
I turned and ran to the motorcycle and side car. Sean and Jack Johnson were leaning over Lieutenant Reed in the sidecar. Jack shook his head, "He's dead."
Sean said, "Poor bugger. He was hit and it saved Wally's life then Wally went to the beach to signal the launches and stood on a mine! A bloody waste."
Norm ran up. "Corp, more Krauts coming. I can hear their engines. It is a lorry this time."
"Right let's get down the ropes."
Jack said, "We take the Lieutenant with us!"
Norm looked at me as though he was going to object, "Right. We leave no one behind. Here take my rope and lower him with this one."
"What about you Corp?"
I will go down with the others on this last one. Go on Ford, you get down and tell the Sergeant what happened."
We tied the rope under the Lieutenant's armpits. The blood had congealed on his back and was sticky. We began to lower him. I heard the engines of the German vehicles. "I'll go and delay them."
I ran to the Kübelwagen. Two of the Germans had been thrown clear. I found three of their potato masher grenades. I broke the porcelain tops and attached the toggle to the next grenade so that there was a line of them I placed them at the top of the path so that when the Germans ran to the cliff edge they would set them off. I saw that Sean and Jack had already descended. I was the last one on the cliff top. Taking out my last two Mills bombs I went to the edge of the road. The Germans were some fifty yards down the slope and struggling to get up in their truck. As the vehicle moved towards me I took out the pins and lobbed them one by one high in the air. Then I ran for the rope; I pulled it and it was free. The other two had reached the bottom. There were two explosions in quick succession as the grenades went off. I had no idea if I had caused damage. I just wanted to slow them up.
I had no time for a steady descent and, after wrapping it around my back I stepped over. I flexed my knees and then sprang back and allowed the rope to run through my hands. I had not had time to don gloves and I knew that I would burn my hands when I slowed down. Burned hands were something I could live with. The cliff came up and I flexed my knees and kicked again. I heard a series of explosions from the top of the cliff. They had found my booby traps. I glanced down and saw the ground less than thirty feet away. I gripped the rope and, ignoring the pain, pulled it across my chest. I stopped instantly. I slowly lowered myself the last ten feet or so.
As I dropped, bullets sprayed from above. I turned and saw the others making their way to the two MLs. I aimed my gun at the top of the cliff and emptied the magazine. It worked for all the heads ducked back. As I waded through the surf I saw the wrecked remains of the German motorcycle and sidecar. The spread-eagled Germans told their own story. After hurling myself into the water I clambered on the ML. I heard bullets hit the water and the MLs' gunners fired their machine guns. They hauled me aboard; the Lieutenant spun the wheel and we surged away from the coast of France. We had escaped. The fact that only two of the other section had survived was a disaster but we were heading home. We had survived and that was important.