M.J. Hollows - The German Nurse

Despite the warm summer sun, the sea swelled as if a storm was coming. It rose then fell, throwing the lifeboat from side to side in anger. The wind blew across the ship, whipping the seven men on deck with white spray. Richard had sailed this way many times before, but never under these circumstances. The boat rocked and he set his face in grim determination against the salty wet spray as he thought of what he had been asked to do. After the British army had left the islands, the powers that be had thought about what else the island had in its possession and fell on the idea of their lifeboats. He’d received a telegram telling him that under no circumstances could the lifeboats fall into German hands. The only option left had been to collect them and deliver them into the care of the navy at the mainland.

As such, Richard had assembled a crew of seven men, who were now on their way to Jersey across the Roussels, the stretch of water between the islands, to collect their lifeboat, tie it to their own and begin the arduous journey over to England. They hoped they could be done before the Germans arrived, but they had no idea what was really happening on the continent.

One of his sons pushed a mug of hot tea into his cold hands and muttered something that was lost in the noise of the engine. He moved away from the pilot’s position, leaving Richard with his mug of tea, and spoke to his brother, patting him on the back in his usual manner. It wouldn’t be long until they approached Jersey. He’d had someone phone ahead to tell them he was coming, so he hoped they wouldn’t kick up a fuss about him taking their boat. They wouldn’t be happy about it, either way. For communities that relied on the sea, a lifeboat was vital. Richard had rescued many a struggling fisherman from a tricky sea when things had grown out of their control. He didn’t dare think what would happen without them.

He had considered simply hiding the lifeboat away somewhere, but had decided against it in the long run. He wasn’t a good liar, and they would no doubt find the boats before long. He had been unable to think of an alternative and, as he stood at the prow of the boat he had spent so long working on, he wondered whether he should have simply refused and taken the consequences.

Suddenly there was the sound of an engine, rising in pitch, breaking through his reverie. At first Richard thought it was the lifeboat, but the rhythm was different, at a counterpoint to their own ship. He looked around for the sign of another boat, but they were alone in the seas not far now from Jersey. The sound came again, this time much closer. Richard crossed the front of the boat and finally saw it. There was a faint grey shape silhouetted against the sky. Then he saw another, its companion. They were getting closer, turning into the unmistakable outlines of aircraft. The German cross was clearly visible, black against the grey of the underwings.

Richard hoped they would be ignored, due to the giant red cross that was painted on the top of the lifeboat, but his illusion was soon shattered by a spitting sound. Spray jumped out of the sea in front of the boat like sprites in two parallel lines, getting closer.

‘Get down!’ Richard shouted as he heard the splintering of wood. Bullets hit the fuselage as he ducked down to find some cover. The crew cried out in surprise as they hid. There was a sound like a saw against wood. Shards of timber came loose as rounds cut through the hull, then the German aircraft rushed over them in a roar of engines. Richard didn’t dare get back up, knowing there was another coming. A second later more bullets crashed around him, narrowly missing him, whistling past his ears. Then suddenly the other aircraft was gone, the pitch of its engines lowering in a Doppler shift.

It took a minute or so before Richard felt safe enough to lift his head. He looked up and the aircraft could no longer be seen. The faint hum of their engines was still audible in the distance, and he had no idea how long they had before the planes came around for another attack. The boat was heavily damaged, but still seaworthy as most of the damage had been done to the hull above the waterline. He pulled himself out of the netting, his legs aching from being squeezed into a small space.

The crew had clustered towards the back of the ship. They all stood now and, as he got nearer, he noticed a shape slumped across the stern bench. Impossibly his heartbeat rose and there was a pressure in his chest, a dull pain that was growing sharper by the moment. The shape was horribly familiar, and the crew pulled aside as Richard dragged himself nearer.

‘My son?’ The words escaped his lips, but he barely heard them over the beating of his heart. His son was lying there as if sleeping, but Richard knew he would never sleep on the job. His eyes were closed, but his chest didn’t rise. There was a red mark on his temple and blood dripped down his sleeve. Richard fell to his knees. There was a wailing sound, but he didn’t know where it came from until the motion of the boat caused him to close his mouth. He cradled his son’s head in his arms, but it was too late.

Jack stayed at the harbour for as long as the flames from the ruined trucks would allow him. It was his duty to make sure that everyone else got away safely, at least, those who could. The clean-up operation would take some time, but that was the least of their worries. The German planes were dropping bombs on the rest of St Peter Port and the island, and he even saw one land near the hospital. Before long the planes would have to return to the continent to refuel, but they would be back, of that he was sure. He had grown almost accustomed to the sounds of explosions, but he had yet to see the full consequences.

There was still no sign of the boy who had been playing on the road. The tomato trucks that lined the way out of the harbour were ruined wrecks, some of which were still on fire. Their metal frames were a stark reminder of the terrible damage aircraft could cause. The few ambulances on the island had struggled to get through the wreckage and it had been some time since Jack had last seen one. If he found anyone else alive, he would have to either treat them himself, or somehow get them the help they needed.

He crawled under the wreckage of one of the trucks. It was still warm, like a fire late at night, and there was a smell of burnt tomatoes. As he crawled, his hand came up covered in a watery red paste. A pool of crimson liquid was spreading out, staining everything it touched. The cloth knees of his trousers were sodden, and he thought he would never get those marks out. It wasn’t the only thing; the horror of the last hour would haunt him forever. Most of the colour was from the tomatoes, but he didn’t doubt there was some blood mixed in there. He knew it wouldn’t be the last of the islanders’ blood to be spilt. He just hoped that wherever Johanna was, she had kept away from the bombs.

His search under the truck was futile. If any of the people who had hidden under the vehicles were still there, then they would need a lot more than a policeman to find them. The boy was dead and he couldn’t do anything about that. There was no sign of his parents either, and Jack wondered if they had perished together.

He crawled back out from under the ruined cab in shock and wiped his hands on the thighs of his trousers. He looked up as he heard a scraping noise, instantly on guard. A man, only a few years older than Jack, was shuffling along the road, awkwardly dragging one leg as if he had been hit. He had a white cloth or piece of clothing tied round his head, in an attempt to staunch a head wound that was still bleeding. The blood stained his neck and shirt, and his skin was covered in a patina of black ash from the fires. He didn’t seem to notice Jack as he passed, absorbed in his own personal hell. The man was far from the first walking wounded Jack had seen and he was sure the hospital would be inundated. The island didn’t have much in the way of medical facilities, and the population was only small. They never expected it to come to this.