Hammond Innes - Attack Alarm

‘The other isn’t quite in the centre of the south-eastern fighter area, but it’s not far off. It’s just off the Eastbourne road in Ashdown Forest.’

That sounds hopeful,’ I said. ‘There were no others?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I went very methodically through the maps for Kent and Sussex. I didn’t think I missed anything.’

I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It must have been a frightful job.’

‘No, it was rather fun in a way — all the peculiar place-names one had never heard of before, and some that one had. You know the Eastbourne road, don’t you? You go through East Grinstead and Forest Row and up to Wych Cross, where the Lewes road forks off. You keep left here on the Eastbourne road and about half a mile farther on there are one or two cottages on the left. Another half-mile and there is a lane turning off to the right. Take this, fork right along what appears to be a track, and you’ll come to Cold Harbour Farm.’

‘Marvellous,’ I said.

‘When do you start?’

‘As soon as it’s dark — about eleven. The moon doesn’t rise till late now. My detachment doesn’t go on until one, so I shall have two hours before they miss me.’

‘Do you think you can get out all right, though?’

‘Unless I have bad luck, it should be easy.’

‘Well, good luck, then,’ she said, and squeezed my hand. ‘I must get back. Your boys are already beginning to talk about us.’

She had half turned to go when she stopped. ‘By the way, Vayle went off in his car just before eight this evening. He won’t be back tonight.’

‘How do you know?’ I asked.

‘A boy I know in Ops. told me. He’s studying to become a navigator. He saw Vayle getting into his car and asked him whether he could come and have a word with him later in the evening about some problem he was stuck on. Vayle is apparently good about helping people. But he told him that he couldn’t as he wouldn’t be back tonight.’

That looks hopeful,’ I said.

She nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. And if you’re not back before dawn I shall see Winton myself.’

‘Bless you,’ I said.

For a second she hesitated and her eyes held mine. I often wonder whether she was trying to memorise my features for fear she should never see me again. We were very near to each other in that moment. And then she turned quickly on her heels and left me.

When I got back to the pit I came in for a good bit of chaff, but it passed me by. I was thinking of other things. ‘You and Micky are a pair,’ said Chetwood. ‘Both of you look worried and secretive.’

‘Don’t talk so bloody daft,’ said Micky violently.

The violence of his reply should have told me something. But it didn’t. I was engrossed in my own thoughts and barely noticed it. Zero hour was very close now.

At ten we were relieved. Usually the whole detachment went straight to bed in order to get as much sleep as possible. But, of course, Kan and Chetwood had to choose this evening of all evenings to start a discussion about the stage, Chetwood holding forth about the full-blooded qualities of the ham actor, and Kan naturally standing by the more sophisticated modern school. They sat up arguing over a hurricane lamp till a quarter to eleven while I lay in bed and fumed.

At last quiet descended upon the hut. I waited till eleven-fifteen to make certain that everyone should be sound asleep. The place was full of the soft, sibilant sound of steady breathing. I slipped out of bed and put on my battle blouse. Except for this, I had gone to bed fully clothed. For the sake of quietness, and if necessary speed, I put on canvas shoes. Before leaving I thrust my kit-bag and overcoat under my blankets, so that when the guard came in to wake his relief he would think I was still sleeping.

None of the recumbent figures stirred as I opened the back door of the hut. It was dark outside save along the western sky where the last light of day still lingered, throwing the pit into silhouette with the muzzle of the gun and the sentry’s tin hat quite visible. I closed the door of the hut softly and paused to listen. Not a sound from inside. I went a little down the slope towards the wire and there sat down to watch and accustom myself to the light. The nearest I had ever got before to my present escapade was stalking in Scotland, and I knew enough not to hurry even though time pressed.

Gradually I was able to see more and more until at last I could make out the thin coils of dannert stretched tenuously out along the slope of the hill, and behind loomed vaguely the black bulk of trees at the bottom. But still I waited. I had to know the position of the sentry.

At last I heard him. He was pacing slowly along the inside edge of the wire and every now and then his bayonet clanked in its rifle socket. I waited till he had passed. I was just rising to my feet when I heard a sound behind me. It was a click. I thought for a moment that it must be the latch of the hut door. But there was no further sound, and at length I rose to my feet and moved swiftly towards the wire. And at that moment the sirens went. I hesitated, cursing. And then I hurried on, realising that their wail would cover any slight noise I might make getting through the wire.

In a second I had reached the sentry-beaten path inside the wire. I glanced quickly along it in each direction. There was no sign of the sentry. I had brought a pair of leather gloves I had had in my case, and with these on my hands I parted two of the coils and stepped into the gap. I then parted the farther side of the two coils and, raising myself on tiptoe, swung my right foot over into this gap. But to bring my left foot over as well seemed an impossibility. The wire barbs were digging into me painfully. I set my teeth and lifted my left leg back and round. I thought I had done it, but a barb just caught my canvas shoes. I lost my balance and fell headlong. I caught my head on the ground — it was as hard as concrete — and there was a searing pain in my left leg.

But when I staggered to my feet I found I was clear of the wire. I listened. The still night air was silent. No-one seemed to have heard my fall. Crouching low and taking advantage of what little cover there was on that bare slope, I hurried down to the shelter of the wood. Looking back, I could see no movement. At the top of the slope there was the vague silhouette of the hut and the gun, and away to the right was the bulk of the dispersal point.

I went cautiously forward into the wood. It was pitch dark here and I had to feel my way, feeling round trees and bushes by hand. Every yard of progress seemed to take an age, but though my one desire was to get through the wood as quickly as possible to the road beyond, I steadfastly refused to be hurried by nerves.

It is a very unnerving sensation to pass from open country into a wooded place when you are going in fear of your life. For ten days I had been living on the bare hilltop of the ‘drome. I knew all the sounds of that open stretch of ruined downland. During that time I had never heard the rustle of a tree in a current of air, the scamper of a squirrel through light branches, or the movement of dried leaves and twigs caused by the night life of a wood. It was all new to me, and each sound, terrifying at first, had to be sorted out and understood before I dared move forward again.

Once, behind me, I heard the snap of a twig where something heavier than usual had pressed on it. That sound alone held me poised with one foot forward for fully a minute.

At last I made the path that ran through the centre of the wood. There was no sound apart from the faint stirring of the branches high above my head. I crossed the ten feet of open ground without a challenge. This gave me confidence and I pressed forward faster. My lack of caution brought its own reward, for I tripped over a mound of earth and only just saved myself from falling into a deep trench. There was more barbed wire beyond it, but it was just a few strands, not dannert, and quite easily negotiated.