The Black Jackals (30 page)

Mopping up was a short process. The fight had been at close quarters and the Yeomanry's handguns had been mostly fired point-blank. Still, there were a few prisoners. Mullens came over to Lamb, who had opened his revolver to reload but had found with alarm that he was out of ammunition. He made a note to himself to ask Mullens before they parted.

‘Thank you, Lieutenant. Now where are we off to?'

‘You need to head left out of here, but make sure it's the same road or you'll end up in Blosseville and miss the boat.'

‘Thank you. I'm sure we'll muddle through.'

But Lamb wasn't so sure. One wrong turning and they'd be taken prisoner. He saw the motorbike standing where he'd left it and began to walk over to it. As he did so the colonel's orders came back to him. He turned back to the major. ‘Come along, sir. Come with us. I know the way.'

They trudged along the road to Veules in the pitch black, hoping that they would not be silhouetted against the glowing sky. Luckily no one fired at them. Madeleine, who had said nothing all the time they had been in the village, stayed close to Lamb and kept up the pretence of being a wounded British soldier. After a while the farmland gave way to houses and Lamb realised this must be the colonel's village. There was no sign of the enemy, and the only men were a few of Maclachlan's Jocks, ferreting in the deserted houses for provisions. Up ahead Lamb could see the cliffs, and before them a high dune. As they neared he made out the first of the gullies. There were five of them, the colonel had said.

He turned to the major. ‘Right, sir. You get your chaps down there to the beach. I'll wait up here with my man and direct any others. He stood at the top of the gully and as the gunners slid down to the sand he looked back towards St Valéry, hoping to see more men.

Madeleine stood beside him, shivering, despite the huge coat. She turned to him. ‘Do you think others will come?'

‘I don't know. I don't know how many the colonel told about this place. We'll go down ourselves soon. I just want to make sure we get everyone we can away.'

He had just finished speaking when he heard voices out in the night coming from the direction of the town. Lamb drew his revolver, then remembered that he was out of ammunition and had forgotten to scrounge any from the Yeomanry. He swore, but kept his pistol pointed in the direction of the noise. Gradually he made out a group of men walking towards them through the darkness. British uniforms. ‘Who are you?'

‘Jimmy Dallmeyer, A Squadron, 1st Lothians. And five of my men. We've a wounded officer too. We're trying to get off. Someone, a colonel, mentioned a boat on the east beach. Are we going the right way?'

‘You've found it. Down there. You'll find some gullies. That's the way.'

They walked in out of the night and Lamb looked at their tired faces, but when he saw the officer he gave a start. ‘Good God! Brigadier Meadows. It's Lamb, sir. Lieutenant Lamb.'

The brigadier moved his head towards him, but Lamb saw to his horror that the man's eyes were entirely covered by a bandage. ‘Lamb. Great heavens. There's a stroke of luck. There you are, Jimmy. I told you I was good luck. This is the fellow I was telling you about. 'Straordinary chap. Well done, Lamb. Where are we to go?'

‘Not far, sir. Just a few more yards and you'll be on the beach.'

‘Seen what they've done to me, Lamb? Bloody Boche. Can't see a damned thing. Blinded by a grenade. What the bastards couldn't do in '16 they've damn well managed now. Still, 'spose I was too old anyway. Not my war, d'you see? Your war now, you young chaps. I don't deserve to get back. What use am I? And like this?'

Lamb shook his head. ‘You may be no use at all, Brigadier, but you did me a favour and now I'm doing you one. You're going home. Careful, sir. See you on board.'

Lamb watched as the Lothians helped Meadows down the gullies and through the dunes. There was a shout from below and a man in naval uniform came bounding up one of the groynes. ‘Lieutenant Killam, HMS
Codrington
. We're here to get you off, but you should hurry. We've seen Jerry trucks heading this way from the east.'

Lamb thanked him and, with Madeleine in front, edged down the gully to the beach. Five orderly queues snaked through the dark across the sand towards the sea, each of them controlled by a naval officer, and Lamb watched as the men waited their turn to get into the little landing boats that would ferry them out to the waiting destroyers. There must have been eight or nine large ships of the line out there, he thought, plus a number of smaller boats, and his heart leapt at the thought that they might just succeed in getting off more than he had hoped.

The rain was heavier now and the fog and the oil cloud still hung over the Channel, and Lamb could only thank God that so far the German artillery was bombarding the town and had not turned its attention to the little evacuation from Veules. He looked around the beach for signs of his command. The colonel had done well, for the sand was a mass of khaki-clad men. Lamb's stomach felt hollow as he wondered for a moment whether his men were among them. Surely they could have not come so far, only to be beaten at the last? Then he saw them, unmistakable, lined up in the fourth queue. Bennett and Mays even looked as if they were smiling as they lit up. He walked across with Madeleine.

He tapped Bennett on the arm. ‘Sarnt Bennett, you might need to dress that line.'

Bennett beamed at him. ‘Mister Lamb, sir. Thank God. We'd just about given you up. And the lady too. Hello, Miss.'

The others turned round and, seeing Lamb, broke ranks to come and see him.

Lamb looked about. ‘Any sign of the colonel, Bennett?'

‘Well, he turned up here an hour ago, sir, with the best part of a battalion, 2nd Duke of Wellington's, almost 500 men. They're over there. Haven't seen him since.'

Lamb cursed. He had known that the old man wanted his chance to clobber a few of the Boche, and it crossed his mind that the colonel himself might be captured. ‘I'll hang back. You men get yourselves aboard. I'll catch you up. Bennett, you help Miss Dujolle.'

Madeleine shook her head. ‘No. I'll stay with you.'

Bennett nodded. ‘Me too, sir. I'm not leaving you here.'

Bennett stepped forward and with him, much to Lamb's surprise came Valentine.

‘Corporal?'

‘In for a penny, sir. I'd like to see it out, if you don't mind, sir.'

Lamb knew better than to argue with any of them. He searched the faces of his men. ‘Sarnt Buck, you're in charge, until I get back, that is.'

Mays stepped forward. ‘Sir, I know he's a colonel and all, but we don't want to lose you now. Not after what you've brought us through.'

Lamb looked at him. ‘Thank you, Mays. That means a lot to me. But I think someone should make sure that the colonel gets away. I have a feeling he's rather more important than he might seem, and it looks as though that someone has to be me.'

Mays nodded, and Lamb and the others turned and began to walk away from the queue and back towards the dunes. The sky above St Valéry glowed orange with the flames from burning houses. Madeleine sat down on the sea grass and wrapped the coat around her while Bennett, Valentine and Lamb stood, looking across the high dunes, back towards the town.

An hour later Lamb was still peering into the darkness beyond the dunes. He turned and looked towards the beach. The orderly queues of British and French soldiers had gone now, replaced by a milling mass of Frenchmen, unsure of what to do or where to turn. As he watched, the Royal Navy beach party landed their boat, and while two ratings guarded it with levelled sub-machine guns Lieutenant Killam climbed out and walked across to Lamb. ‘I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I'm told it's now or never. The Captain's very anxious to get away. They've already sunk four ships off the harbour. They're bound to turn on us soon.'

‘But I'm waiting for someone. A colonel on the Staff.'

‘Sorry, Lieutenant. My instructions are most specific. We wait for no one, not even the general. Commander Elkins's orders. We have a time to go, and the Jerries won't wait. If we don't go now we won't be going anywhere.'

‘I see.'

He walked back to Madeleine and Bennett. She was sitting on a sand dune wrapped in the coat but without her tin hat on now. Lamb bent over her and, not caring any more what anyone thought or made of it, held her in his arms and kissed her as if he would never see her again. Which he believed might well be true. He looked into her eyes. ‘You have to go now, my love. You mustn't stay.'

She shook her head and looked away. ‘I won't leave without you. No.'

He turned to Valentine. ‘Take care of her, Corporal. We'll join you soon, I'm sure. I've just got to try and find the colonel.'

Valentine shook his head. ‘Sorry sir. I can't do that.'

Lamb stared at him. ‘It's an order, Corporal.'

‘Sorry, sir. I'm not leaving without you, Mister Lamb. Sorry, sir. That's the way it is. Either we both go or we both stay.'

Lamb turned to Bennett. ‘Sarnt Bennett? What do I do? You heard him.'

‘Yes, sir. And I'm not going neither.'

Lamb shook his head and turned to Killam. ‘Lieutenant, would you help me, please? Will you take care of this young lady? She must get to England, at all costs.'

‘It's most irregular, but yes, I'll do it. God knows there are stranger things going on on this beach. Goodbye, Lamb, and good luck. I hope you find your colonel.'

Lamb knew that Madeleine was too weak to fight him, and he knew too that she realised this was their only hope, that if there was some way of his reaching her he would find it. She looked at him for a last time before Killam ushered her into the boat. Lamb looked away as it cast off.

Bennett stood beside him. Valentine meanwhile, desperate for a piss, wandered off behind a nearby dune. Bennett spoke. ‘Right, sir. What do we do now?'

‘Now we wait for the colonel and hope that he turns up before the Germans. And then we try to find another boat.'

There was noise behind them – the sound of a gun being cocked. Lamb began to turn slowly. He did not want to be shot in the back. He had not expected the Germans to arrive so soon.

‘Hands up please, gentlemen.' The voice he heard was not German, but English, and raising his hands in the air he turned quickly, and found himself looking into the eyes of Captain Campbell.

Campbell had changed. He was thinner and paler and his left arm was strapped across his chest. Most strikingly, the right side of his face was a mass of burnt flesh, on which someone had tried to place a dressing, with little success. But it was his eyes that most alarmed Lamb. They had a look of utter madness about them. He pointed the gun directly at Lamb's head and leered at him: ‘My dear Lieutenant, how very slippery you are. Like an eel. How hard to catch! But here we are at last.' His voice was slurred. Lamb was sure he had been drinking, perhaps to numb the pain.

Lamb stared at him. ‘I heard you were dead.'

‘I believe there was a rumour. I did get a bit shot up, as you can see. We ran into some tanks near Fécamp. Made a bit of a mess of my face.' He grimaced. ‘Hurts a bit too. So, Mister Lamb, what are we going to do with you? You appear to be above the law. Or do you just have friends in high places? Either way, if the military process won't do what is necessary, then I will.' He straightened his arm as if he was about to shoot.

Lamb played for time: ‘And what then, Campbell? What of you?'

‘Oh, I've a plan all right. I've a little boat near here. Dinghy. Bought it off a Frog. She's in a cave round below the cliffs. I just have time to row out to the ships and then home, and no one's any the wiser.'

Bennett said, ‘You bastard.'

‘Tut tut, Sarnt Bennett. Speaking out of turn to an officer. You need a lesson in manners.' In a split second Campbell turned the gun on Bennett and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit him in the shin and, as he fell to the ground with a cry of pain Lamb ran at Campbell. But the captain backed off and turned the again gun on Lamb, with a few feet to spare.

‘No, no, Lieutenant. You can't die a hero's death. You attacked me, a superior officer. Remember? You and Bennett. Do you know what that feels like? Do you know how frightening and insulting that is? Your problem is that you're not a real officer and you're most certainly not a gentleman. You part-time Johnnies think you can swan into the army, my army, but you can't. It's not like that. You have no code of honour, no idea of what's right. You're a fake, Lamb, not a proper officer. You won't win this war. You're a bad lot, and you need to be weeded out and culled.'

Lamb said nothing. He looked across at Bennett, who was writhing on the ground, clutching his wounded leg.

‘What d'you think, Lamb? Would that be fair? Would that be . . .'

Campbell stopped suddenly and stood transfixed for a moment before grasping madly at his back. He spun round, and Lamb could see the hilt of a knife protruding from his shoulder as he sank to his knees on the wet sand.

A figure appeared from behind Campbell. Valentine said as he walked towards them, ‘In the nick of time, sir, wouldn't you say?'

Lamb saw a movement to his left but was too late to shout a warning as Campbell raised his gun again and fired. Valentine clutched his left shoulder and crumpled to the sand, and in the same instant Lamb threw himself on Campbell, knocking the gun from his hand. Campbell screamed as Valentine's knife slipped deeper into his shoulder and Lamb punched hard into the wound. Lamb saw another more slender knife in the space between their faces, up and flashing in Campbell's hand, and felt it being pushed up against his neck. He raised his hand to Campbell's wrist and grasped it, but the point of the blade was on his throat now and it was all he could do to hold it away. He felt the tip prick the skin and a trickle of blood on his stubble.