Not Flag or Fail (6 page)

“Bloody hell, that was close, you’re right. I did nearly get us stuck but if I don’t close it someone is going to see us.” I said.

“What if we put something there to stop it closing altogether?” said Ronny.

“Ok, let me go outside and take a look. Fishy, put your bayonet into the jamb and then push the door to.” I said.

I went outside again, made sure there was no one around and then went over to the gate. The door closed to and I looked across, you could not tell that it was slightly ajar. I returned quickly to the tomb and pushed the door open; Fishy was still on the top steps.

“Move down Fish, so that I can get in.” I said giving him a push.

“You go past me Bomb, I’m not going any blinking further than here!” he replied standing his ground.

I went past him down to the bottom of the steps, it was not totally dark in the tomb, even with the door closed because there were two small ornamental slits in the stonework on each side of the tomb which allowed a limited amount of light inside. It was also dry and the only smell was a sort of earthiness.

“Well, I said, we might as well make ourselves comfortable; we could be here for a while. Anyone want to volunteer for the spare shelves?” I asked. The two vacant shelves were the top shelves, one on each side, and were about the size of bunk beds.

“I’ll try one!” said Ronny, using the other two shelves as steps, to get him up to the top. “Eh this is not bad; you can see out through the slits, there’s a good view down the path to where we came in.”

I got up on the shelf on the other side and looking through the slit could follow the path up to the church entrance.

We settled down and Ronny quietly began describing the people coming in for early morning Mass. Occasionally I looked out of the slit on my side and saw their backs disappearing up the path and into the church. By now Harry and Jack had wrapped themselves up in their groundsheets and both were asleep, one of them snoring softly. They had chosen to sleep on the floor as three of the bottom four shelves were occupied by coffins.

I glanced across at Fishy, he was still sitting on the second step, although I couldn’t see too clearly in the gloom, he didn’t look too happy. “You ok Fish?” I asked.

“To tell you the truth Bomb, I ain’t too happy wiv’ graves and stuff, gives me the creeps, something rotten, they do.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied “but we don’t have a lot of choice you know that. Why don’t you get down with Harry and Jack and see if you can get a bit of sleep?”

“I know I won’t sleep in here, that’s a definite! So if you or Ronny want to, then you go ahead. I can wake you when it starts to go dark, ‘cus I sure ain’t stopping in here for one minute after dark even if you shoot me!”

“Well let’s hope we don’t have to eh Fish?” I said and got down to get my groundsheet out of my kitbag. Soon Ronny and I had followed Harry and Jack’s example and were asleep on our shelves, wrapped in our groundsheets.

Fishy had only a very limited view through the crack in the door, had he have been able to see better then, roughly two hours later, he would have seen the priest bid farewell to his congregation after both morning Masses had ended. An hour or so after that he would have seen him leave the church, dressed in his black cassock, carrying a bag over his shoulder as he walked down the path towards us.

He would have also seen him enter the gate to our tomb, which might have prevented him jumping up off the step and shouting out a string of profanities, when the priest gave a light tap on the door.

Not waiting to be announced, the priest pushed open the door and came inside. Fishy had awakened us all with his shouts and we all looked at the priest who gently pushed the door closed behind him. He was perhaps in his mid forties, a lean frame and athletic build.

“Bonjour mes amies. Saïd the priest “Bonjour father.” said Ronny answering on our behalf.

“Bonne Vous parle Francais” replied the priest.

“un peu, mais mes amies parle seul anglais.”

“Ok I will speak in English then, it is not a problem for Me.” said the priest, turning to us all he spread his hands as if in a blessing.

“Welcome to my Church gentlemen. You do well to stay hidden, les boshe are all around our town, so I have bought for you a few things to make your stay more comfortable.”

He took the bag off his shoulder and went down the steps to the bottom. Sitting on one of the bottom shelves he opened the bag and took from it long sticks of French bread which he placed on a tea towel on top of the coffin. Next he took out a slab of cheese, a little butter, two onions, a bottle of water and two brown bottles that looked like beer.

“I have bought you water and cider, I must warn you that the cider is our own and is very strong so be careful not to drink too much.”

“Father how did you know we were here?” I asked.

“Oh that is easy. I like to watch the sunrise from the bell tower; it is a time of the day that I like to spend alone before I celebrate the Mass each morning. I watched as you came into the grounds. Don’t worry; I stayed there long enough to satisfy myself that no one else saw you, so you are quite safe. After Mass I had to send my housekeeper out on an errand so that I could steal my own food to bring to you. What are your plans gentlemen, do you plan to join your comrades in Dunkirk?”

“Well that’s what we are hoping to do, yes.” I replied.

“That may be more difficult than you realise, les boshe are setting up check points all along the route but if you wish to put your trust in me I may be able to help you to get away.” Said the priest, he filled a pipe with tobacco as he spoke.

“Some of my parishioners are barge men, I will if you wish, go and see if I can get them to take you in, at least for some of the way, it will probably be the safest way for you to travel.”

He lit the pipe and filled the tomb with the smell of his tobacco, which was pungent and sickly. None of us complained it was I suppose technically, his tomb. After he had spoken for a while longer, during which he had relit the pipe several times, we were glad to see the pipe, if not him, bid us farewell. Ronny watched him go down the path still carrying the shoulder bag. He turned left out of the gate and headed off in the direction we had come from, going back towards the canal.

After he had gone we made a meal of the things he had bought us and drank the cider, we then settled down for another snooze. Ronny gave me a prod with his rifle from across the space between us and nodded towards Fishy. Who, overcome at last by fatigue and no doubt helped by the cider, had finally nodded off on the steps, so speaking quietly, we organised a guard of sorts, changing every couple of hours, using the top two shelves, in order that we could watch through the slits in both sides of the tomb.

I had slept for a couple of hours, when Jack woke me to take my turn on watch. He told me that they had seen the priest come back after an hour or so but he had gone straight to the church, not even glancing at the tomb as he had approached. Well we could do no more than wait for him to let us know the outcome when he felt it was time.

If he did not come back by dark then we would set out on our own again.

Outside it was a pleasant, late spring day, it was warm and sunny, from my limited viewpoint, I watched as the shadows cast by the gravestones started to lengthen.

“Hello” said Ronny, who was looking out in the other direction, “come and have a look at this Bomb.” I climbed down from my shelf and back up again on the other side to join Ronny.

“Where am I looking then?” I asked. “Over there just to the right of the entrance, can you see him?”

“Oh yes I can see him alright, blimey what’s he think he’s doing?”

We watched as a figure, dressed in what from this distance appeared to be British officers uniform, sat with his back to the wall and lit a cigarette.

“Oh that’s great!” I said to no one in particular, “if he doesn’t get himself caught he’s going to bring Jerry down on top of the rest of us.”

Ronny asked if he should go and get him, but I told him to wait there and wake the others while I tried to get over to him without being seen. I took my rifle and Fishy, who was by now awake again, opened the door for me. Cautiously I put my head out and looked up and down the path. For the time being it was clear, I took the broken lock off the gate, shoved it into my pocket, ran across the path and ducked down behind a couple of biggish grave stones. Keeping up this pattern of looking around and moving a few yards at a time between the stones I eventually got to within a few yards of him.

“Sir” I shouted, not knowing what else to call him, although now that I was closer to him I could tell that he was a Captain. I raised myself slightly above the stone and beckoned for him to come over to where I was, incredibly he stood up picked up a small case that was by his side and simply strolled the short distance to where I was hidden.

“Get down Sir please” I said “someone may see us”.

“Jolly good show corporal have you been sent to find me?” he said stooping down next to me

“Er not exactly Sir Can you stay down and follow me we need to get out of view Sir if you don’t mind” I said and set off back to the tomb.

I looked behind pleased to see that he was at least following but doing so almost standing up; I had to get him inside for all our sakes.

Fishy opened the door and I gave him the lock which he put back onto the gate whilst I manoeuvred the Captain down the steps. Ronny and Harry were on the shelf watching the path down to the gate and Jack was looking towards the church, Fishy came back in.

“Looks as though we’ve got away with it Bomb, can’t see anyone else around.” he said as he took up his position back on the top step.

“So chaps what are you up to eh?” said the Captain.

“We’re trying to make our way to Dunkirk Sir,” I said “how about yourself, are you?”

“Heavens no, I’ve only been here a couple of days, I have some despatches for Lord Gort, you know GHQ?”

“Lord Gort has gone home Sir, we are retreating, hasn’t anyone told you?” I replied looking around at the lads incredulously.

He went on to tell us that he had been flown in by Lysander two days earlier, he had been met by a driver in a Humber staff car who was to take him to GHQ in Ypres. On the way there they had been strafed by ME 109’s and although the car had been hit, both he and the driver had survived. However sometime later they had got separated and he had spent the last day or so on his own, trying to find his way to Ypres but had come to the conclusion that someone must be turning the signposts around, as this was the third time he had passed this church.

I gave him some water to drink and he lit another cigarette, I got black looks from a couple of the lads because I had not let them smoke, fearing that the smell might give us away.

“You know this is very fortunate,” he said “because now you chaps can help me get to Ypres.” he looked quite pleased with himself when this idea came to him and I watched Ronny roll his eyes at Fishy.

“Pardon me Sir,” I said, I had already figured that he was perhaps not the brightest officer we were likely to meet. “That isn’t really possible, firstly because, as I said earlier, GHQ is no longer at Ypres and secondly Sir, we are under very strict orders to make our way to Dunkirk, but Sir, if you want to come with us you are very welcome.”

He looked at me with a slight smile on his face and then like a parent explaining something to a slow child he spoke to me.

“Corporal, you seem to forget that I am an officer and when an officer gives you an order it is your duty to comply. Now then, I understand what you say about GHQ being moved, but in times like this, one has to improvise. It is our duty to find where it has been relocated to, now do you understand me?”

I was trying very hard to phrase an answer that wasn’t going to upset him further, when Ronny spoke up, using his best public school accent.

“Permission to speak Sir?”

The Captain looked across to Ronny feeling more comfortable in the company of someone with his own accent and drawled “Carry on Private”

“Well Sir, I think what the Bombardier is trying to tell you Sir is that GHQ has been relocated to Dunkirk, which is why we have been ordered to go there.”

“Good show Private, now why the hell couldn’t you have told me that eh corp.… or Bombardier I suppose I should say, I hadn’t noticed that you chaps were artillery types.”

I looked across at Ronny who had I think saved the day, out of the Captains vision he slowly shook his head.

“We need a plan then.” said the Captain “How far away is Dunkirk? Perhaps we should be setting off now.”

This was going to be so difficult, he had no conception of the danger we were in and it was obvious that we were not going to get it across to him. He was in his late twenties, perhaps twenty eight or nine and although older than any of us he lacked the common sense that had enabled us to get this far.

I wondered just what connections had got him his present rank. He definitely hadn’t achieved it on merit and I was guessing that his driver had given him the slip at the first opportunity he had come across.

One thing that was obvious though, was that whatever I said to him was not going to go down well, so I asked Ronny to tell him what we planned to do. He seemed to accept things better if it came from Ronny; he leaned back against one of the bottom coffins, smoked another cigarette and eventually dozed off.

We watched as the townsfolk went along the path to the church for an evening service and after he had bid them farewell we watched as the priest came down the path with the shoulder bag and again brought us more food and water though this time there was no cider. We introduced him to our officer and from his reaction we could tell that he was no more impressed with him than we were.

As we ate he explained that there was a barge already tied up on the canal waiting for us and that once it was properly dark he would return to take us down there and introduce us to the master. After the meal, we settled down again and he left us to await his return after dark.

Thinking that I should know better, I eventually plucked up the courage to ask the Captain what he intended to do with his dispatch case. For a long moment he looked at me blankly, “What do you mean Bombardier? What am I going to do with it?”