Roses of Winter (9 page)

The
Jasper
pulled back, opening a gap between it and the dockside. Stokes and Tierney ducked down to avoid a hail of debris. The warehouses lining the quay were burning furiously. Coming back up, John saw yet another German aircraft dive. Bombs flew into a warehouse between them and the mouth of the dock. They were at serious risk now of being trapped. Moving slowly in a confined area of water they had few options. All they could do was to continue backing and hope for the best.
 

Two more aircraft swooped down. The bombs from the first plunged directly into the bow of the ship. The
Jasper
reared up and settled back as the following aircraft’s bombs found targets amidships. The ship’s mast came crashing down on the remains of the for’ard cargo hatch.
 
Tierney looked over the bridge rail. The men who had been securing the derrick were gone. Flames from below decks roared through the gaping hole that had replaced them. Tierney felt the
Jasper
settle by the head. It was clear that she would travel no further. He ordered John to signal STOP ENGINES, immediately followed by FINISHED WITH ENGINES.
 

Tierney looked at his stricken ship in despair. He felt the loss of his men and ship keenly. In less than half a minute the
Jasper
had been overwhelmed. He had always expected to be shipwrecked at sea. Here they were sinking less than 50 feet from the quay. They were in no danger of submerging. The
Jasper
could only descend a few feet before grounding on the bottom of the dock. Ridiculous as it might sound, he had to give the order he had hoped never to make. He turned to John. “We have little choice. Abandon ship.”
 

They must leave the ship but go …where? The surrounding docklands were ablaze. Tierney looked at the sky. The planes were gone for the moment, but for how long?
 
He must make the best of this opportunity. “John, send word to the chief to get his men out.”
 

Just then Charlie appeared. “Whit’s gaun on?” Charlie asked, looking around at the devastation.
 

“We’re getting off right away,” John Stokes told him. “Get your men out.”
 

Charlie hurried back down and wasted no words. “We’re tae get aff the ship. But first we’re gaun tae shut down the engine.”
Thank Christ for diesel engines
, Charlie thought. It’ll get us oot o’ here a damn sight faster. He was thinking of the old-fashioned reciprocating steam engine of his last ship. The
Jasper
, built in 1937, had the advantage of a modern power plant.
 

“Right lads, that’s it, let’s get oot o’ here.” The explosions had shaken the engine room hard, knocking Tam McBain up against a bulkhead. He sat on the deck plates. Harry and Charlie hauled Tam tae his feet.
 

“Ah’m OK, ah’m OK,” he protested. But when he tried to stand unaided he teetered on his feet. They grabbed him.

“C’mon,” Harry insisted, “ye’ve had a terrible dunt on yer heid. Let us help ye.”
 

With Charlie leading and Harry supporting from behind, they managed to get him up the ladders. They emerged on the port side after deck where they found Tierney and Stokes. “Whit are you two daeing still on board?” Charlie asked.
 

Captain Tierney smiled. “Did you think we would leave the ship without you and your men, Chief?” He turned to John. “That’s the last of them?”
 

“Aye Sir, all except for the three dead for’ard.”
 

Tierney led them to the ladder. Charlie stuck his head over the side and saw a lifeboat with several crewmembers. Two other boats filled with men were starting out for the dock entrance.
 
He turned to Harry. “You go doon first and help Tam. I’ll haud on tae him from above.” Harry climbed over the rail and balanced on the ladder. “Easy noo Tam,” Charlie told him. “Don’t look down, we’ll get ye oot o’ this.”
 

Swaying precariously, Tam managed to get one leg over the rail. He sat there for a moment looking dazed. Then, feeling Charlie and Harry’s firm grip, he stiffened with determination and swung his other leg over. When they were safely in the boat, John climbed down followed by Tierney.

They pushed away from the
Jasper
. The shrill squeal of a steam whistle made them look around. Jean Langlois waved from the pilot boat. They shipped their oars as it slowed and maneuvered carefully alongside. “Bon jour, Capitaine. I am afraid, once again, our hospitality leaves something to be desired.”
 

“On the contrary,” responded the captain. “We find your company most welcome.”
 

Jean Langlois shrugged and smiled. “We will take you to a more suitable place, yes?” Charlie threw a rope to a crewman on the pilot boat. “We will collect your other boats on the way out,” Langlois said.
 

The pilot boat moved off.
 
Their faces smarted with the radiant heat from the fires. A warehouse collapsed, spilling debris on to the quayside. The other boats were brought in tow. They worked their way out of the dock mouth into the wider reaches of the harbor. From this vantage point they could see the extent of the damage being inflicted on the docks. The pilot boat pulled them away from the fires. Langlois brought them to an area that had escaped serious damage. He indicated to the men in the boats that his plan was to bring them to steps leading up to the quay.
 

Hopping clear of the pilot boat, Langlois ascended to the top of the steps and waited for Tierney. “We will do our best to find some accommodation for you and your men until we can find a way to help you leave, Capitaine. It will be difficult. The situation in Dunkirk is -
 
how do you say -
 
unsettled.”
 

That’s putting it mildly
, Tierney thought. Instead he said, “What do you know of the situation?”
 

The Frenchman shrugged and pursed his lips. “There is much rumor but little real information. Things are going badly for our armies, that much is clear. They have been evacuating many wounded of course. Now they are sending home those not directly involved in the fighting. There are even rumors that the armies themselves may be evacuated.” He shrugged again as if to say,
who knows?

Tierney turned to Stokes. “Gather the men together, John, would you?”
 

“Aye Sir.” Collecting the last few stragglers, he assembled the group near the head of the steps.
 

The captain addressed them. “It’s clear we have been thrown into a difficult situation. Our best bet is to stay together while we find out what is going on. There will almost certainly be rough times ahead, but we will do our best to get you all out of here as soon as we can.”
 

Despite the bombing they had seen in the harbor, they were unprepared for the extent of the damage in Dunkirk. They picked their way around downed tram wires and the corpses of dead horses still in their traces. At one street corner, work parties were taking away dead citizens. They had been cut down while running for shelter. Their bloody bodies were pierced through and mutilated by shrapnel. The captain turned to Jean Langlois whose face was pale and drawn. “I had no idea it was this bad. I am sorry to see your city in such a condition.”
 

Langlois did not reply. He merely inclined his head slightly to acknowledge the captain’s sympathy. The Frenchman drew in his breath, his eyes moist. He shrugged as though to cast off his burden of pain. “We must try to find a way to get you and your men out of Dunkirk. There may not be much time before the Germans arrive. I will make inquiries and see what I can discover. But first we must find a place for you to shelter. There are already soldiers in every nook and cranny with more arriving every hour.” He thought a moment. “My brother-in-law has a stable he keeps for his business. It is not much but it may serve for the moment.” He paused. “If it is still standing.”

The stable lay in a quiet neighborhood free of the damage they had recently come through. As they approached, Captain Tierney saw a stocky man of short stature anxiously pacing up and down in front. He appeared older than Jean Langlois. Tierney thought that might be because of his balding head and the prodigious paunch that was hanging over his belt. Like many overweight middle-aged men, he appeared to maintain the fiction that the trousers that once fit still did. The belt was fastened low under his belly, making continued support look problematic. He was red-faced and in great distress. Looking up he spotted Jean and rushed over. Ignoring the crowd of men accompanying his brother-in-law, he burst out in French. “Jean, Jean, c’est un désastre. Les chariots ne sont pas revenus et seulement un chauffeur est revenu.”
 
He threw his hands up to the sky then brought them to his face and wept.
 

Tierney and his crew spoke not a word of French. Having no idea what was transpiring, they shifted uncomfortably at the sight of this man who was so emotionally distraught that he was now pulling at what little hair he had. They looked around uneasily, not wishing to be impolite but unable to help. Jean placed his arm around the stricken man and attempted to console him. Suddenly his brother-in-law realized they were not alone. He looked questioningly at Jean who explained the group’s presence. Straightening up, the man pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his face, then used it to blow his nose. Putting it away, he bustled forward and grabbed Tierney’s hand with both of his.
 

“Bonjour, Bonjour,” he greeted them, his misfortune forgotten for the moment. “Excusez-moi s'il vous plait. J'oublie mes manières. Nos alliés Britanniques sont les plus bienvenus. Évidemment, vous pouvez rester dans le stables. Les chevaux sont tous parties. Je suis désolé que je ne puisse pas fournir la meilleure accommodation.” Jean Langlois held up his hands in mock horror, an ironic smile blunting any offense. His brother-in-law paused, and smiled. He was clearly well aware of his propensity to be too effusive.

Jean explained that his brother in law wished to make his British allies most welcome. Naturally they could stay in his stable, particularly now that there appeared to be no horses to occupy it. He apologizes most profusely for the humble accommodation.

 
“Capitaine, may I present Pierre-Louis Lejeune.”
 

Tierney smiled, nodded and again shook the man’s hand. “Please tell Pierre-Louis that we are indeed grateful for his assistance and hospitality,” Tierney said warmly to make up for his lack of French. Pierre-Louis listened carefully as Jean conveyed this and positively beamed with pleasure.
 

“Aye,” Charlie piped up, “the Scots and the French gang back quite a ways thegither.” The Auld Alliance had pitted Scotland and France against England but this was not the time for historical niceties. Jean Langlois had repeated Charlie’s comments in French at which Pierre-Louis, saying “Oui, Oui,” came over and kissed Charlie vigorously on each cheek. Charlie, to his credit, took this in stride although taken aback by such a display, so foreign to his own countrymen. He burst into a self-conscious laugh and shook the pleasant Frenchman’s hand. Harry, fearing he might be next, placed himself solidly behind Charlie.

The introductions over, they took stock of their quarters.
It could be worse
, John thought. The stable was warm and dry. Some new straw made a comfortable pallet for the night. Later, Jean and Pierre Louis brought bottles of wine, loaves of good, fresh bread, cheese, and a sausage heavily laced with garlic. The latter tasted strange to their British palates but was wolfed down anyway.

Wondering how Langlois had found these items, Tierney attempted to give the men what British money he had. He was gently but firmly rebuffed.

“Is it not enough that you risk your lives to bring us the means to fight the Germans?” Jean Langlois insisted.

Tierney wondered why so many British people spoke disparagingly of the French. He would like to introduce them to men such as these.

Early on the following morning, Jean Langlois arrived with meager news. “It appears,” he told Tierney, “that an evacuation is imminent, perhaps as soon as tonight. There are two hospital ships tied up but they are being reserved for the wounded.” He shrugged. “Everything is very confused. One moment you hear this, the other that. I will try to get better information. For the moment, Capitaine, I think it best that you remain here.”

Tierney nodded. With his connections, Jean was probably as good a source of information as any in Dunkirk. Tierney weighed the options and decided that Jean was right. They would be better off here until they had more information about ship movements. Although, having seen the condition of the harbor, he wondered how ships could move in and out of Dunkirk.

With little to do but wait, the men were getting restless. The frequent air raids on the harbor and beach areas were far enough off for safety but did nothing to relieve their boredom. The strain of the last few days began to express itself in petty differences and quarrels. By nightfall of their second day in Dunkirk Tierney was well aware that he must soon make a move, even if Langlois had found no new answers. It was late in the evening before the pilot reappeared, looking haggard and tired. The Frenchman was clearly under great stress. He came in and immediately slumped down on a bale of straw.
 

Tierney waited expectantly, feeling great sympathy and concern for their benefactor who was seeing his city turned into rubble.
What awaited him?
Tierney wondered. With the army falling back the Germans must be close behind. If he didn’t get his men out soon they would be trapped here, prisoners for the duration of the war. They might still have a chance if luck was on their side. For Langlois the future appeared even more uncertain.