Vengeance 10

Visibility was now less than a hundred yards in the gathering dusk, but the sound told him that there was at least one boat approaching the town. He swore to himself. Who the devil is in that boat — German troops or Norwegian fishermen? The question had not occurred to him before. If they were fishermen, they might not know of the British raid; and if he guessed wrong and fired the red flare, it could give his ambush away. Yet if he held back until he was certain, there would be no time for Renson to move his troops to meet the threat. The familiar surge of exhilaration coursed through him then, and he laughed. The corporal stared at him in astonishment.

‘Hayward, fire a burst towards the boat, high enough not to hit anyone.’

‘Bloody ‘ell!’

‘Damn it, do as you’re told!’

Hayward stared at him a moment, then as the puzzle of the boat’s identity occurred to him as well, slipped the fire selector button on his Sten to the right for automatic, rested the wire stock against the side of his hip, and glanced to see that Memling had the flare gun out and ready.

Memling nodded, and Hayward squeezed off a short burst.

The result was an instant’s silence, followed by shouts and gunfire. They were Germans all right, and Memling fired the flare gun as both he and Hayward dived for the meagre cover offered by the trees.

The German barrage lasted only a few moments. Hayward raised his head, spat a mouthful of sand, and gave Memling a steady look. ‘Yer a fookin’ idiot… sir.’

* * *

By the time the two men reached the wharf, the firefight was over. Drifting through the fog were the shattered remains of two fishing boats and several bodies. The shingled beach was littered with debris, and two commandos stood guard over a huddle of German prisoners while a third helped an exhausted soldier from the water. Captain Renson was talking to Lieutenant Peter Driscoll, commander of the second Special Service company. Memling was both surprised and relieved to see that his own company was still drawn up into the perimeter as he had ordered. The rest of Driscoll’s people could be seen filtering back through the town.

Memling saluted Renson. Renson returned the salute with a suspicious glare, ‘I do not think it was a good idea for you to leave your command, Memling.’

Jan took a deep breath. Renson, it seemed, was not about to give an inch. ‘My sergeant major is very capable, sir. I had no doubt that he could hold the position.’

Renson remained silent for a moment, then turned pointedly to Driscoll who was watching Memling with a puzzled expression. ‘Then the aircraft are not totally destroyed?’ the captain asked.

‘Not totally, sir. However, we damaged all those found on the apron and set the main hangar on fire. We got two more as they were being rolled out.’

Renson swore quietly, then turned away abruptly and hurried down to the beach.

Driscoll drew a shaky breath. ‘What in hell is going on here, old man? I come back after nearly getting our arses shot off, and he’s fuming mad. Claims you ran off down the beach against his orders.’ Driscoll stared hard at Memling. The two had barely met before boarding the destroyer.

‘Damn him!’ Memling swung about as if to follow, then thought better of it. Nothing would be gained by a confrontation now.

‘Then it’s not true?’ Driscoll asked, doubt evident in his voice. Memling turned back to him, eyes blazing with anger. ‘Of course not. That makes it sound as if I had deserted. That fool intercepted a German message ordering a combat party here by road from the north and concentrated everyone in that direction.’

‘From the north? That’s ridiculous.’

‘Exactly. It made no sense to me either. It would have taken them a good two hours to reach us, but Renson withdrew from the waterfront and concentrated on the northern approach to the town. We were wide open to attack from the fjord. I stationed most of my company along the beach, then took a trooper and went along the north shore. When we heard the Germans, we opened fire. That gave Renson enough time to realise what was up and save all our necks.’

‘I see.’ Driscoll nodded. ‘So you are saying that it was your action that saved the party … ‘

Memling stared at him, unable to believe what he was hearing. ‘Don’t tell me…’

Driscoll held up a hand. ‘Now, now, don’t get excited. ‘I’m just trying to get this straight. Didn’t make sense that you would run off down the beach. The old man has probably been in the desert too long. Doesn’t really believe in boats any longer.’

Memling laughed ruefully at that. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ Renson shouted then, and they started down the beach after him.

* * *