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  Bert Williams and Mike Carr were best friends. They had joined in the recession and the army was their only job. They, along with Jack, were the original members of the squad. They were the old hands to whom we all deferred. I learned, from Alf Higgins, that none of them had any ambition. They enjoyed just following orders. He had joined later than they had but he wanted to be a sergeant.

  The last member of the squad was the most enigmatic. Nev Wilkinson was well educated. I could tell that from the way he spoke. He had fought in Spain against the Fascists and joined up when he returned. He hated the Germans with a terrifying passion. He was however fairly solitary and his politics did not sit well with the working class lads who made up the rest of the platoon. They liked the middle ground. The Communists and the Fascists were just too extreme for their politics. We had few arguments about politics. The most serious arguments were over football. Being a Manchester regiment meant that there were divided loyalties between the two Manchester teams. I fell asleep during one such debate.

  When I awoke the train was stationary and we were in the middle of nowhere. Alf was awake and I spied the glow from his cigarette. The lights in the carriage had been turned down. "Where are we, Corp?"

  "By my reckoning somewhere in Belgium. It is hard to tell. It looks like they have taken the station signs away; always a sure sign that war is coming." He stubbed his cigarette out. It won't make much difference where we are. We will be in a field and living under canvas. We will have to get used to that for quite a while, I reckon."

  It did make a difference to me. We had a home somewhere close to the French and Belgian border. I knew the area, not well, for I had always been a passenger but when mum had brought us we had used the local buses and I had travelled the roads.

  "Sergeant Greely says you can speak French." I nodded. "That might come in handy then."

  "The trouble is the language in Belgium is probably Flemish. I only speak a little of that."

  "Really? I thought they all spoke Frog over here."

  "Oh don't get me wrong if they don't speak French then they will understand it."

  "You been over here then?"

  "Yes Corp, we had a few holidays."

  He laughed, "I knew you were posh." He waved a hand around the others, "To these lads a holiday is a day out in Blackpool!"

  I looked around them, "What about Neville? He has been to Spain."

  "You can't call that a holiday. The poor bugger was fighting German dive bombers. I might not like his politics but he has balls I'll say that for him."

  Suddenly the train lurched as it began to move again. The motion brought the others to life. Willy's head had been on my shoulder. He rubbed the side of it. "You're a bony bugger, Tom. You need a bit of fat on you." He looked over to the Corporal. "When are we going to get a cup of chah? My mouth feels like the inside of a Turkish tram driver's jock strap!"

  "I won't ask how you know what that tastes like, Holden!"

  Dawn began to break and I could see that we were approaching civilisation. The train began to slow down as we approached a station. "Better wake the other lads up."

  "Why Corp?"

  "Because, Private Holden, we are stopping and there are military police on the platform so I am guessing that this is our stop!"

  He was right and we heard the cry to disembark. The tiny platform was soon covered with six hundred khaki uniforms. The British Army is a remarkable organisation. The Colonel spoke to the adjutant who summoned the Sergeant Major. When his wishes were passed on to the sergeants we began to march from the station with kit bags over our shoulders. As was the norm we were soon marching to the songs from the Great War. The rhythm helped us to march. As we marched I reflected that this was almost exactly the same country over which my dad had flown. It was still flat but twenty one years of nature's hard work had eradicated all signs of the war. The trees were a little less tall, that was all.

  Once again it was the sergeants and non-commissioned officers who came to the fore as we reached the fields which would be our home for the next few months. As soon as we arrived we were given an area and we laid out our tents. We would be sleeping as eight man squads and our tents would be gathered in platoons. The old hands quickly ensured that we had the flattest pitch which was possible.

  "If you have any slope at all," commented Jack Jones, "you end up sliding to the bottom of the tent. That is no fun, believe me."

  The chaos of hammering tent poles and guy ropes was soon replaced by the order of neat, straight lines. We were chosen to erect the field kitchen. That was not a bad chore. The cooks would remember if we did the job well and there might be extra portions. It was certainly better than putting up the HQ tent or the Quartermaster's stores and we avoided the task of digging the latrines- that most dreaded of duties would arrive one day.

  After our meal we were able to lounge around. We had not drawn sentry duty. Sergeant Jennings did gather the platoon around to give us his warning. "We are at war now, my lucky lads, and that means that the Hun could come down that lane at any moment. He did in fourteen and there is no reason to think he won't do so again. Like in the Great War we have Belgians and French on either side of us. Keep a good watch. You see grey when you are on duty and you shout! The colonel has forbidden any visits to the local village. If it is any consolation there is bugger all there. They don't even have a bar and you won't be able to distinguish the women from the pigs so you aren't missing anything there." We all laughed; not because it was funny but because it was rare for the sergeant to crack a joke. "Get a goodnight's sleep. Tomorrow we start patrols."

  We went out the following day in a platoon strength patrol led by Lieutenant Ashcroft. Although not a brand new lieutenant he had only been with the battalion for three months. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw him defer to Sergeant Jennings. I recognised a soldier beneath the martinet. The Luxembourg border was less than ten miles away. We were not at an official border crossing but close to one of the many minor roads which criss crossed the land. The Ardennes was hilly and heavily forested. I hoped that it would prove a good barrier against the Germans. The German border was also close to us. Just twenty miles north of our position. We had the bulk of our troops there. We were, we discovered, the southern end of our line.

  We returned slightly disappointed with the lack of incident. It was to be the start of many such days as, what they termed in England, the Phoney War got under way. To us it was not phoney; it was just days filled with the same activities. There were alternate days of patrolling and digging latrines. We slept in a field and bathed in cold water. I began to worry that I had made a mistake.

  Chapter 5

  We endured a winter in the field. It was only punctuated by a delivery of letters in November. It had taken all of this time for them to reach us. I had fretted more than most over the lack of mail for I did not know how my parents had reacted to my decision. There was a bundle of letters. Most were from my mum but one was from my dad. I read them in order. It suited my organised mind.

  2nd September 1939

  Manston

  Dear Tom,

  I was surprised by your letter. You are your father's son. I know you are a sensible boy and that you had your reasons for doing what you have done but I cannot see what they are. Your father was upset too but for different reasons. He does not mind you joining up but he wishes that you had spoken with him first.

  You must write and tell me where you are stationed. You say you are enlisting in Manchester I suppose that you will be based up there. Your father is using his influence to find out. You have put the cat amongst the pigeons and that is no error.

  You know that we all love you and we are thinking of you. I never thought, on the day that you were born, that I would have to endure this again. I thought when your father returned from the war then this would be a thing of the past. I was wrong.

  Mary sends her love.

  Much love,

  Your mother

  xxx


  I had forgotten, selfishly, that my mum and dad had been separated by the war too. The letter made me feel guilty again about leaving without speaking to her. She deserved better than that. I regretted my impetuous nature. There were three letters for me and the second letter was also from my mum.

  5th September 1939

  Manston,

  Dearest Tom,

  Freddie Carrick drove down yesterday with your things. He explained everything. I suppose I can understand your actions now. From what Freddie said you have thought this through. I pray so. I was just surprised that you had joined the army. Now that war has been declared I am even more worried that I was. Freddie intimated that you had been sent overseas. He is too much of a gentleman to tell me where so I will just have to worry about that. I thought I had ended worrying and writing letters at the end of te Great War.

  I have hung your clothes in Mary's old room with moth balls. I daresay you will have out grown them by the time this war is over. The newspapers make depressing reading.

  There is a call for nurses such as myself to volunteer again but your father is unhappy about that. For some reason he does not want me close to London. Mary is also becoming annoying for she wants to do her bit.

  I will close now. Your father is coming home later and we can have a long chat about this. I need to get this in the post.

  All my love,

  Mum

  xxx

  As I carefully folded it back into the envelope I saw that the next one was from dad. It was on official paper with a war office frank on the envelope. For some reason I became scared and I hesitated before slipping the bayonet into the corner to open it.

  6th September 1939

  Manston

  Dear Son,

  Well you have gone and done it eh? Why am I not surprised? Freddie told us about this Hughes-Graham. There are many like him in the services and I am proud of the way you dealt with him.

  I cannot deny that I am disappointed you did not join the Royal Air Force although speaking to Freddie on the telephone I think I understand the reasons. Sorry, son; I can't do anything about who I am and you know I would have preferred anonymity . Nor will I deny that am afraid for you. When your Uncle Bert was in the Army I fretted about him too. I can't help it. I know that you will do your best and do your duty. You are a son in whom I am inordinately proud.

  I hope this war will be over soon although I doubt it somehow. Please write as often as you can although I know that you will have your letters censored. Any news will be welcome for that way we will know you are still well.

  I have been where you are- I understand.

  Keep your chin up,

  Dad

  I actually felt better when I put down dad's letter. He had taken it far better than I could have dreamed. I read the rest and then re-read them from the beginning. I had a picture of home. Mary had even sent me a letter in with mum's. In hers she told me of my mother sobbing when she had read my letter. That made me feel worse for mum's letters had hidden her pain. That was mum for you. She kept it all inside.

  By the end of April we knew something was up. Patrols further north reported a build up of German forces. Our platoon was selected for a special patrol in the first week in May. Lieutenant Ashcroft gathered us around him. I watched with some amusement as Sergeant Greely and Sergeant Jennings observed him carefully and listened to all that he said. They were preparing to intervene if he said the wrong thing.

  "Colonel Grainger has given us the honour of a special mission." I saw Sergeant Jennings roll his eyes, "We are going over the border into Luxembourg to see if there are any signs of German soldiers."

  There was a hum of comments until Sergeant Jennings shouted, "Stow that! Pay attention or you will be on a fizzer!"

  "Thank you Sarn't Jennings. Needless to say we will have to tread carefully. The German border is less than five miles from the area we will be patrolling. The Germans may have their own patrols out too. I want to stress that although we will be taking loaded weapons we will not fire unless fired upon. We do not want another Norway here do we?" He turned to the two sergeants, "Have I missed anything?"

  Sergeant Greely shook his head and growled, "You take rifles, Mills Bombs and bayonets only. We are not going to a picnic. And keep your eyes and ears open."

  We marched from the camp towards the forest some two miles away. Sergeant Greely led. When we reached the forest he halted. "Harsker, to me." I trotted up to him. "You have sharp eyes and quick reflexes I want you fifty yards ahead of us. You hear anything you stop and wave me forward. All right?"

  "Yes Sarge." I had no idea why I had been chosen but I was determined to do the best I could. I held my rifle across my waist. It was an easy way to carry it and I could swing it around quickly if I needed to. I had a bullet 'up the spout'. Although frowned upon it meant I could fire faster if I had to.

  I knew how to stalk. I had hunted with dad and Uncle Ted many times. This was hunting but the prey was man. I scanned the ground before I moved forward and then I scanned from nine o'clock to three o'clock. I moved steadily up the slope. Suddenly I heard voices ahead. Not surprisingly they were speaking in a foreign language. I dropped to one knee and, without taking my eyes of the ground ahead waved my left arm. While I waited for Sergeant Greely I concentrated on the voices.

  He dropped next to me. "What is it?"

  "Voices Sarge." I pointed to the right.

  He nodded and listened, "German?"

  "I think they are Luxembourgers."

  "You had better be sure. There are twenty men's lives depending upon it."

  I listened again. "They are not German."

  "Good lad. We had better avoid them; head further to the left."

  "That is the German border, Sarge. What about the Lieutenant?"

  "Just head to the left and take it carefully eh?"

  As I headed left I began to feel how uncomfortable the helmet was. It also stopped you hearing as well as you might. I kept heading to the left. Suddenly I smelled smoke. It was pipe tobacco. The ground dropped away just ahead of me and there was a path of sorts. I dropped to one knee and took off my helmet so that I could hear a little better. This time I recognised the words which came from below me. It was German. I turned and waved my left hand down. The rest of the platoon dropped to their knees and the two sergeants ran towards me followed by the Lieutenant. The two sergeants looked at me. I mouthed, "Germans."

  They looked at each other. The Lieutenant mouthed, "Where?"

  I pointed down and Sergeant Greely took my helmet and gave me the signal to have a look see. I laid my rifle on the ground and began to belly towards the edge of the slope. I picked up some soil and wiped it across my face. I slowly moved myself to the edge and peered over. There, below me, were four Germans. They were smoking. I recognised that one of them was a German non commissioned officer. I saw that they had a map and one of them was busy annotating it. they were a scouting party. After checking that they were alone and not part of a larger patrol I slithered back to the sergeants and the Lieutenant. I held up four fingers.

  "Germans?" He mouthed.

  I nodded. The Lieutenant chewed his finger. Sergeant Greely mimed slitting a throat. The Lieutenant shook his head and pointed back to the camp. The two sergeants did not look happy about that but they obeyed. I picked up my helmet and my gun and followed. When we reached the road again they halted.

  "Good work Harsker. What did you see?"

  "Four Germans with a non com in command. They were map making. They had one sub machine gun and three rifles. I couldn't see any unit badge sir."

  "Good."

  "Did you hear them say anything?"

  The Lieutenant shot me a surprised look, "You speak German?"

  "A little sir. My dad said it would come in handy. My French is better but I understood them. They were talking about what they hoped was being cooked for their supper. One of them hoped it was sausage."

  The Lieutenant looked disappointed. "I though
t it might be important intelligence. What they are having for dinner and a little mapmaking is hardly earth shattering."

  "It is sir. They are scouting in Luxembourg and their camp is nearby. They could be preparing for an attack."

  "You might be right, Sergeant Jennings. Right let's get back and report to the Colonel."

  When we returned to the camp I went to the washroom to clean the dirt from my face. I didn’t want to incur the wrath of the Sergeant Major. I had just dressed when Corporal Higgins appeared. "Captain Foster wants to see you. Get a move on."

  Captain Foster, our company commander, was also our intelligence officer. He was someone I had only met on parades but we all knew that he was well respected by all the officers and non-coms. I walked quickly to the tent they used. Sergeant Greely was waiting at the entrance. He waved me in impatiently. Captain Foster and Lieutenant Ashcroft were looking at the map. "Ah Harsker, I understand you did well today." I did not know if that required a reply and so I just inclined my head to one side. Sergeant Greely rolled his eyes. The Captain just smiled, "You used your head today. I hear you speak German and French. Any other skills in your repertoire?"

  "Skills sir?"

  "Well I know you are a good shot and have mechanical skills. What else can you do? Play any sports?"

  I was confused. What had this to do with the patrol or the war or anything? "No sir, but I enjoy running." He encouraged me with a smile and the wave of his hand. "And I can drive. I have flown a single seater. I can sail a little and I like canoeing. Oh and I am not a bad swimmer. That's about it."

  He laughed, "An impressive list. Well I have asked the Lieutenant to keep you for such patrols as we had today. You have shown an ability to think and to move quietly. Well done. Dismissed."

  Sergeant Greely walked me out. "You shouldn't be so modest, you know." He looked at me, "Fly an aeroplane?"

  I shrugged, "I grew up on air fields and my dad is a pilot. It isn't that hard you know. Driving a car is harder in my view." I pointed to the skies. "They are a lot emptier." It is strange but I pointed to an empty blue sky and, as I looked up, I saw an aeroplane flying from the east.