The Black Jackals (24 page)

Fortune turned to Karslake. ‘You say that London has told you we must stay with the French. No matter what happens? That any withdrawal must be to Rouen?'

‘I'm afraid so, General. It would seem that General Altmayer says he has no reserve with which to replace us. We're to stay put, sir, until the French tell us to move.'

Fortune was fuming. ‘It's madness. You mean, sir, I just have to sit here? I've just been told that there may be two divisions of Panzers at Buchy.' He pointed to a large map pinned to one of the panelled walls. ‘That's here, fifteen miles north east of Rouen. It stands to reason that we must keep our lines of communication open to the coast.' He turned to the one other man in the room, Major General Beauman: ‘Am I right, Beauman?'

‘Quite right, Fortune. I've always thought we should prepare to evacuate if necessary. Of course, Dieppe would have been my choice. Or Le Havre. To retire towards the Seine seems nonsensical.'

Karslake nodded to Fortune, ‘I agree, Victor. And from what you say and information I have received it does seem that an outflanking manoeuvre is more than likely.'

Fortune went on, ‘If the Navy managed to get 300,000 men away at Dunkirk, why the devil can't they come in and save our mere 12,000 and a few French?'

‘I'm only going by the orders from the Ministry, Victor. London says that we should sit here and take our orders from the French.'

‘If you want my opinion, sir, it is the Prime Minister's view that if we are allowed to retire to the coast and even seem to be looking to a possible evacuation then the French will not view that well. The French already consider us perfidious, apparently. To pull out the Division now might look like treachery.' Fortune wrung his hands.

A clerk appeared at the door. ‘Sorry, sir. Signal from General Vyse, sir, liaison at French HQ. Came from London, sir.'

Fortune took the note. ‘It's from the War Office, to Vyse. “You are to represent to the French Commander-in-Chief in the strongest terms that evacuation between Dieppe and Le Havre cannot be contemplated.” Well, I'll be . . .'

He placed the note on the table before him and stood, palms resting on its surface. ‘Gentlemen, if we stay here or retire on the Seine I shall lose the entire Division. What the devil are London playing at? What does Churchill want me to do?'

There was a knock at the door and an aide-de-camp entered. ‘Sir, I have a Lieutenant Lamb, here, sir. With an urgent message for you.'

Fortune turned to the ADC. ‘Lamb? I don't know a Lieutenant Lamb, do I, Thompson?'

The aide shook his head. ‘No, sir. Never seen him before. He did say that he came from Colonel “R”.'

Fortune looked up. ‘Colonel “R”? Well, what are you waiting for? Show him in.'

Lamb entered and, seeing the three staff officers in the room, was unsure at first which was the man he had come so far to find. Then the figure in the centre walked towards him. He was a well-built man, in his late fifties, with piercing eyes and a neat grey moustache. An unremarkable-looking man, Lamb thought, for one who had come to mean so much to him over the past days.

The man said, ‘Well?'

‘General Fortune, sir?'

‘Yes, and you are?'

‘Thank God. Sorry, sir, I mean, Lieutenant Peter Lamb, sir. North Kents.'

‘Are you, by Jove? The Jackals, eh? You've a message from “R”, you say?'

‘Sir.'

‘Where did he give you this message?'

‘Twenty days ago, sir, in Tournai. That was the last time I saw him.'

‘How did you get it here? Why has it taken you so long?'

‘It's a long story, sir.'

‘Well, what's the message?'

Lamb reached into his battledress pocket and drew out the piece of paper, folded and creased, which he had transferred from one uniform to the other over the past week. He unfolded it and handed it to Fortune.

‘He said to tell you, sir, that no matter what happens you will be evacuated. That should the line fold, or should you be outflanked, you must fall back on Le Havre.'

Fortune read the message and then looked Lamb hard in the eyes. ‘He said that?'

‘Yes, sir. And he said that this will be the case no matter what else you hear. In particular what you might hear from the War Office, sir. Ships have already been assembled to evacuate the Division.'

Fortune looked down at the message again, then smiled at Lamb. ‘You have no idea, Lieutenant, how good that news sounds.' He turned to Karslake. ‘What d'you say to that, sir?'

‘It would seem that what Whitehall tells us is somewhat different to other information. “R” never gets it wrong.'

Fortune walked across to the map, ‘In that case my mind is made up. We fall back on Le Havre.'

Karslake looked at him. ‘Would it perhaps be prudent, Victor, to at least listen to what the French have to say?'

‘No, sir. It is imperative that we move with the utmost speed. If we sit here we will be surrounded and the entire Divison will be taken prisoner. We move now.' He paused, reflective. ‘But I will talk to General Altmayer, as you suggest. I will ask him to place us in reserve.

Lamb had listened to Fortune's conversation with astonishment. He had presumed that the Prime Minister and the War Office were the ultimate authority, but now it seemed there was some other high command whose orders carried more weight. He was staggered too by the very fact of the internal politics. How could they hope to win a war if they had different objectives and goals. Goals which ultimately would cost thousands of lives.

Fortune was speaking ‘We'll send a signal now and pray that it gets through. You've done well, Lamb. What will you do now?'

‘I don't know, sir. My men are all in. But we can still fight.'

‘How many of you are there?'

‘Myself and nine men, sir. And a French girl we rescued from the SS.'

Fortune's eyes widened. ‘That's all that's left of your platoon?'

‘Yes, sir. We have come all the way from the Dyle.'

Fortune stared at him. ‘You're quite a man, Mister Lamb, aren't you? You and your Jackals.' He thought for a while, then walked over to Lamb and clapped him on the back. ‘Why don't you stay here tonight? Mess with us. Get your French girl a bath. Simpson will find her a room upstairs, and I'm sure there's room in one of the officers' cottages for you. Your men will find billets. But don't get too comfortable. I'll think of something for you to do by the morning.'

Lamb found Bennett and the others waiting outside in the garden. ‘Right, Sarnt. Twelve hours' leave. Here. See if you can find a billet for the men. Miss Dujolle will be staying in the house.'

‘What's the plan, sir? Are we going to try and find the Battalion? Are we going home?'

‘I don't know, Bennett. I just don't know. It all depends on the General.'

He took Madeleine by the hand and led her towards the house, up the stairs and past the guards. She looked around, taking it all in, bewildered to be inside such a grand country house. ‘Have they just taken it over?'

‘Yes. It's what happens in wartime.'

‘It's so big, so grand. My grandmother worked as a maid in such a place. I never thought I would stay somewhere like this.'

He smiled. ‘Come on.'

They climbed the stairs, and at the top, as he had been told by the General's aide, turned left along a corridor hung with oil paintings of grim-looking Frenchmen, ancestors of the owners, he presumed. It reminded him a little of his ex-wife's family home in Kent, and for a moment his mind was distracted by thoughts of Julia and Kate. But then Madeleine looked up at him and their faces disappeared. Fourth room on the left, the man had said, and Lamb turned the handle.

Madeleine gasped. She could hardly believe it. The room was high and panelled in two shades of grey. Lace curtains hung at the shuttered windows, which led to a wrought-iron balcony. There was a bed with white sheets, and a bathroom. The General Staff had taken over the château and were doing their best to keep it intact in case the family returned. The reception rooms had suffered worst, being turned upside down to accommodate the needs of the General's offices, but upstairs the rooms were as elegant as when they had been left by the fugitive family. There were clean, soft towels in the armoires and piles of unopened soaps in paper wrappers.

Madeleine hugged Lamb. ‘Thank you. Oh thank you, my darling. It's like a dream.'

‘I'm afraid we can't stay here for long, unless you want to stay with the General Staff, and I don't know if that would be possible. I imagine even the General will be on the move quite soon. The Germans are moving fast.'

Her smile vanished and she let go of him and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Yes, of course. I know. It's only an illusion, isn't it? But can you allow me my little daydream, Peter? Just for a few hours.'

He smiled at her. ‘All right. I'm sorry. For a few hours. Why don't you have a bath and then we can see what we can find to eat here.'

She went into the bathroom, and as he opened the door to leave he heard her gasp again and giggle with joy.

Lamb descended the staircase and, hearing the sound of voices and laughter, walked towards it. In one of the château's large reception rooms, he thought it must have been the Morning Room, the officers had set up a makeshift mess and bar, and one of the batmen was acting as steward. Lamb walked in. It was a surreal scene, straight from St James's. And just as they would have done in their clubs, or the mess, the other officers turned and acknowledged him politely before returning to their conversations. He went to the bar – a line of ammo boxes – and ordered a Scotch and soda from the batman. There was a distant booming from shells to the north, and Lamb knew that the front was being bombarded again. He wondered how Crawford and the others were doing, and part of him wished he had not had to leave them to come here. He felt a sudden pang of conscience at the knowledge that he would sleep in a clean bed that night, and eat well.

As he was drinking another officer entered, a Frenchman, although not of the sort he had become used to seeing on the road with the retreating army. This man was neatly dressed in the uniform of a cavalry officer, with baggy breeches, highly polished boots and a Polish-style khaki tunic rather than the normal service dress. On his chest he wore a row of medal ribbons, and at his side hung a cavalry sabre.

The British officers turned and, just as they had with Lamb, smiled at the newcomer. Lamb, at the bar, smiled too. ‘Can I buy you a drink?'

‘Thank you. I will have a whisky soda. Like you. You are Scots?'

‘No, English. But I still drink Scotch. Like the French.'

‘Excuse me. Etienne Charvet. Captain, 4th Cuirassiers.'

‘Peter Lamb, Lieutenant, North Kents. Your regiment fought mine at Waterloo.'

‘Of course.' The Frenchman raised his glass. ‘Well, chin-chin. To old scores.'

‘To the
Entente Cordiale
.'

The man shrugged. ‘Is it still
cordiale
? I don't think so. You know what my general calls your General Fortune? General Misfortune. But though I know he has no respect, we have great respect for you. For all the Highlanders too. We know these men, these amazons who would rather wear their skirts than trousers.'

He drained his glass and signalled to the batman for a refill for both of them.

‘Let's drink it while we can, Lieutenant. I have just delivered a report to your generals. The Germans have made a gap in the line twenty-five miles to the south, at Forges. Do you know how they did it? All morning refugees, stragglers and vehicles had been passing through Forges, and your men couldn't close their roadblocks. Some of our tanks were allowed to go through. Of course they were French tanks, but they had been captured by the enemy. Once through the defences they turned on our posts from the rear. Then they broke through behind with their own tanks. Neufchatel's in flames, and the enemy's tanks are on the road to Rouen. You know the battle is as good as lost. We have no reserves and we are outnumbered two to one. How can we win?'

Lamb said nothing. There was nothing to be said.

It was 8 p.m. At a crossroads five miles to the east of Rouen Kessler stopped and peered out of the hatch. The tanks' engines were idling. They had come so far so quickly that he had decided it was time to let them cool down before they seized up.

His sergeant called up to him from the roadside, ‘Sir, we could go on and take Rouen. It's there for the taking.'

‘No, Hans, I have a better plan. I have permission from General Hoth to take the bridges at Elbeuf. That's fifteen miles south west. The French and British will expect nothing to happen there, so that is where we will attack. It will take five tanks. Just five and a motorcycle company.'

Six days' rest they had enjoyed – their prize for rolling up the French at Lille. He was restless now. General Rommel had been honoured with a Knight's Cross and now Kessler had one thought in his mind. He might have been beaten to the coast but he would be first to the Seine. Then they would sweep round and trap what was left of the British with a sickle stroke to the sea. And that would be that.

Lamb was awakened the following morning by a strange and alarming noise. For a moment he wondered what it was, and then through his semi-conscious state it became clear. Somewhere outside someone was playing the bagpipes. He turned over and felt a soft, smooth, naked back and pushed against it with his own body, relishing the warmth.

She sighed. ‘Are you awake?'

‘Yes. That bloody noise woke me. Didn't it you?'

She laughed. ‘Your Scottish soldiers will wake everyone with that. I like it.'

‘I'm afraid I have to get up before anyone knows I've been in here. Against King's regulations, and not good for morale.'

He climbed from the bed and began to dress, hauling on his battledress trousers and braces and then buttoning his flies and his shirt before turning back to her. She had rolled over in the bed and was looking up at him half-naked, and seeing her like that and gazing into her eyes Lamb was temped to throw himself back onto the bed. But he managed to steel himself and carried on dressing, looking away, saying nothing.

‘Peter.'

‘Uh-huh.'

‘Peter, you will take me back to England, won't you?'

He stopped. It was not something of which they had spoken before, and he had been putting off the thought.

‘I don't know. I can't work out what to do.'

‘You know I can't stay here, darling. The Boche will have my country, and now I have no one to live for. No one but you.'

He froze. Of course he wanted to take her back. But what then? Did she expect to get married? He was not sure if he was ready for that again, if indeed he wanted it at all. But he knew that she was quite right: to stay in France would be the end for her, and he could not let that happen. In any case, to be parted from her now . . . He looked at her. ‘I'm sorry. Can we talk about it later. I'll be late for the men.'

She smiled and nodded. ‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rush you. Don't worry. We can talk.' She looked down at the floor, but he crossed the room, bent down, lifted her chin and placed his lips against hers.

Then he turned and walked to the door. ‘I have a feeling the General's going to move from here today, so I should get dressed now. I promise I won't be long.'

Downstairs the Divisional HQ was in uproar. Officers and men seemed to be rushing in all directions to no apparent purpose.

Lamb stopped one of them. ‘What's going on?'

‘Haven't you heard, sir? Jerry's broken through. He's only four miles away. We're moving back.'

The man broke away, and Lamb rushed outside to find his platoon. They had been billeted in the gardener's cottage and he ran across to it and pushed the door open. They were inside, cleaning their weapons, shaving and eating.

Smart looked up. ‘Wondered where you were, sir. Fancy a brew? I've just got one on.'

‘No time. Come on. There's a flap on. We're moving out. Jerry'll be here in an hour. Less.'

They stood up. Stubbs wiped the soap off his chin and Smart poured away the tea with a dejected look.

‘Where are we going, sir?'

‘Damned if I know, Mays. But I'm going to find out.'

He left and ran across the yard to where a gunnery sergeant was supervising the transports pulling out of the farm courtyard to the rear.

‘Any idea where we're headed, Sarnt?'

‘We're off to another ruddy big house, sir. It's about fifteen miles due west. La Chaussee, it's called. Want a lift?'

‘I've eleven others with me.'

‘Not a problem, sir. You can all get in one of the ammo trucks. Course, if it gets hit you'll all go up like Roman candles.'

‘We'll take our chances. Rather that than get nabbed by the Jerries.'

He saw Bennett across the yard. ‘Sarnt, we've scrounged a lift. Round up the men.'

Lamb ran back into the château, and as he was about to run up the staircase a voice stopped him in his tracks.

‘Mister Lamb. Good morning.' General Fortune was standing at the foot of the staircase with his batman and three staff officers. ‘Sleep well?'

‘Very well, thank you, sir.'

‘My piper woke you?'

‘Yes, sir. It was very nice.'

‘Don't be soft, man. It wasn't nice at all. But it woke you up. Stirred the spirits a bit, I'll bet, even for a Sassenach. You know we're pulling out of here?'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘You are coming with us?'

‘Yes, sir, of course. Just getting my kit.'

‘Good. I've come up with a job for you, Lamb. But it will wait until we get where we're going. See you at HQ.'

‘Yes, sir.'

Lamb's mind was racing. A job for him. Oh dear God, he prayed it wasn't another mission to deliver a message. He was fed up to the back teeth with being a runner for the high command.

They rattled around in the ammo truck for two hours. No one spoke much. Valentine cracked a joke, and then even he was silent. At length they stopped and the engine died. Lamb climbed down from the back and saw that they were parked in a courtyard very similar to the one they had left, with a large château dominating the place.

The driver came round the back of the truck. ‘There we are, sir. Just like home. Everybody out.'

As the men and Madeleine clambered down from the truck, a staff car roared into the courtyard and pulled up dangerously close to him. The rear window was wound down and Lamb found himself looking into the face of General Fortune.

‘Glad to see you found it, Lamb. Off to a conference. Come along. You'll find it of interest. Simpson will take you. Drive on.'

As Fortune rolled away and out of the gate, another staff car arrived, open-topped this time, driven by the aide-de-camp, a captain in the Grenadiers. ‘Hop in, Lieutenant. The general wants you there, for some reason.'

Lamb turned to the men, exchanged glances with Madeleine and climbed into the car. He looked at his watch. It was five p.m.

An hour later he was standing in a stiflingly hot room in the elementary school of the town of Arques-la-Bataille, temporarily transformed into the HQ of 154 Brigade. The room was filled with officers, mostly major and above. They were standing in convivial groups and chattering, and Lamb felt not a little out of place. The evening sun beat down through the windows, and Lamb looked around at the room, which seemed to have been largely untouched by the war as yet. The walls were covered with posters explaining sums and how to tell the time. There were images of foreign places, including one of London with Big Ben and Buckingham Palace and another of the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin. Lamb stood at the rear of the room, trying to blend into the sea of field officers, but still felt uncomfortable. He wondered why the General had asked him, a lowly lieutenant, to attend a staff conference, and could only conclude that it must have something to do with the task that lay ahead.

A familiar face came weaving through the crowd towards him. Colonel Honeyman clasped his hand. ‘Lieutenant. Good to see you again. Thought we might have lost you.'

Lamb looked at him sheepishly. ‘Hello, sir. I'm most terribly sorry about leaving you. I had to grasp the moment. Did Lieutenant Crawford explain?'

‘Of course. I have to say that I was more than a little angry when I found out, but when Crawford told me about the message and how vital it was I quite forgave you. Is that what this is about?'

‘Yes, sir, I presume it is.'

So Crawford had told Honeyman about Le Havre. Well, Lamb was not sorry. Perhaps it had saved his bacon.

Fortune banged on the schoolteacher's desk at the front of the room and, having silenced the officers, began to speak. ‘Gentlemen, I have an announcement to make. Contrary to what some of you might think, this Division is no longer making for Rouen. We had hoped to establish another line across the Seine, but it seems now that will not be possible. So we're falling back in the direction of Le Havre.'

There was a buzz in the room, and murmuring.

Fortune raised his hand and all fell silent. ‘I have received a message informing me that the Royal Navy has plans in hand to send nine destroyers and numerous smaller vessels and if necessary evacuate the 51st from Le Havre, just as they managed so wonderfully at Dunkirk.'

A ragged cheer.

‘So as from this moment we are making for Le Havre, and then home.'

A huge cheer. Fortune smiled.

‘I have come up with a plan to hold the Germans in the east, and as it seems more than likely that they will arrive at Le Havre ere long, another plan to safeguard the security of the port, prior to our embarkation.'

He paused and pointed to a staff officer standing on his right. ‘I'm creating a force for that purpose under Brigadier Stanley-Clarke, here. This force will take position between Fécamp in the north, here,' he pointed to the map, ‘and Lillebonne in the south, here. It will comprise the 6th Royal Scots, 1st Kensingtons, 17 and 75 Field Regiment RA, three companies of sappers and any other unlucky odds and sods whom we might deem to be a help to it. We've called it Ark Force for two reasons. One, it's been formed here at Arques-la-Bataille, which as you all bright historians will remember is the birthplace of William the Conqueror and thus a good omen for getting us all back across the channel.' This brought a laugh from the officers. ‘The other is for the obvious reason that I do feel a little bit like Noah, and I intend for you all to go in two by two.'

There was another huge burst of laughter and applause this time, but Lamb could hear its hollowness.

Fortune waved away the laughter. ‘I have sent a message to the Prime Minister asking for all spare fighter aircraft to be despatched to us. The Navy too is doing everything to embark us from le Havre. Admiral James is sending nine destroyers from Portsmouth. In fact I'm told they may well already have arrived at the Le Havre estuary. The French estimate that it will take three nights to get us all off.' He paused, aware of the impact his next words would have. ‘And we plan to start the embarkation on the 13th.'

A silence echoed through the room.

Someone coughed, Lamb could not see who. Another officer asked the question they were all asking themselves: ‘Isn't that rather late, sir?'

‘Yes, thank you for that question. Well, it's not my place to comment, but that is the schedule that's been set by the French commanders for their own men to withdraw, and as you know I've always said that in the order of battle here the French have the ultimate word. So that's the date were going with. I have agreed to it. Don't forget that quite apart from the Division and all the other chaps who've pitched up here, we are also embarking whatever we can of the French IX Corps. We're all in this together, after all. The main point is that Le Havre must be defended.'

They left the room, and Honeyman turned to Lamb. ‘Well, I'll be blowed. I know the old man's loyal to the end. To the French, I mean, as well as us. But well, you heard him. The 13th? That's just absurd. By then we'll all be in the bloody bag, if you ask me.'

‘I suppose we can't be seen to be disunited, sir.'

‘Yes. I dare say you're right, but it's going to be a damn close call. See you in Le Havre, Lamb.'

‘Sir.'

As he was passing Lamb, Fortune turned to him and stopped. ‘Lieutenant Lamb? There you are. Enjoy that? Thanks to you, you know. Well done. As a reward I'm sending you and your men with Arkforce as part of A Brigade. You should feel at home with them. We've made it up from all sorts: two battalions of the Argylls, what's left of them, 4th Black Watch, the 6th Royal Scots, and A Brigade. That's you now. We need every man we can get, and they're a real hodgepodge. No offence, laddie. In fact I think we need chaps like you with them. You've only ten men, so I'm giving you a composite company: Norfolks, Kensingtons and a few stray Highlanders. You'll be brigaded with the Sherwood Foresters and the Buffs.'

Lamb stared, dumbstruck. Promoted again to company commander. ‘Thank you, sir.'

‘Oh, don't thank me, Lieutenant. Just take your command, and do your utmost to stop the Jerries from taking Le Havre.'

Fortune turned to go. Lamb coughed and Fortune turned. ‘Yes, was there something else?'

‘The girl, sir. The French girl who is with us. Can I leave her here?'

Fortune looked at him. ‘This is not a hotel or a hostel, Lieutenant. Has she no home to go to?'

‘No, sir. That's just it. Her parents were shot by the SS. She only just escaped.' He thought. ‘She's really a very good medic, sir.'

‘I shouldn't do this but as it's you, Lamb, yes, the girl can stay. She can travel with the GHQ signallers, in their truck. But the slightest problem and she's out, Lamb. Right, you'd better get going.'

The journey back to the new HQ at the château of La Chaussee was uneventful and silent, and having thanked Captain Simpson Lamb crossed the courtyard and found Bennett and the others. ‘Well, we've got our matching orders. We're off to defend Le Havre. The general's getting everyone out. At least that's the plan. We're off back to Blighty.'

There were cheers and smiles, and Bennett said, ‘Very good, sir. I'll say, that
is
good.'

‘Have you seen Miss Dujolle, Sarnt?'

‘She's up in the big house, sir. With some of the brass hats.'

Lamb nodded, ‘Wait here. I shan't be long.'

He had known that at some point he would have to leave Madeleine, and he had known that it would be hard, but he had not imagined it would feel like this. Lamb cradled her head against his chest and ran his fingers through her dark hair, watching how the locks fell around them, savouring every instant. She said nothing, but her sobs throbbed against him.

‘I'll be back. Very soon. And then we'll get away. Together.'

‘Don't lie, Peter. You are going to fight and I am staying here with the general, as you said. And who will get away first? Your general. Isn't that how it is? And he will take me with him, as you said, and I will leave you here.'