Chapter 12

They eventually found their way to a row of shops facing the pier, one of which was a café. After wading through the people standing cheering the new arrivals, Chief opened the door and held it for a woman to leave and Garrison to enter before going in. The shop was crowded with locals sitting and talking. Everyone was in a good mood as they watched out the window at the goings on outside. It was not as quiet as he had hoped but at least they would not get run over.

The proprietor bustled over and asked Chief something. Not understanding the question but assuming with the Allies right outside the door that it didn't matter he said, "We ain't got no money but my friend here, needs a place to rest for a few minutes. Okay?"

"American?" he asked cheerfully. Chief nodded. "Welcome, my friends," and he grabbed Chief's hand and pumped it before releasing it and doing the same to Garrison. "Come, sit, I get you some Brandy. I am afraid it is not very good," he said as he hurried off to the back. "The German's took the rest. I kept a bottle for this very day." He vanished only to reappear within a minute holding a bottle high. "Here it is. To Victory!"

Glasses appeared and he poured drinks for everyone. There was much laughter, talking and clinking of glasses. Garrison held up his glass and Chief touched it with his. "To Victory."

"To victory," echoed Chief, "and to getting you home."

An older man moved closer and sat at their table. His accent was thick but he spoke slowly. "Where is home? I hear you say home."

"We're heading back to England." Chief figured that was polite without revealing too much. They already knew they were Allies.

"You to wait for, eh, a ship?"

"Yeah."

"When you ship?"

Chief wasn't sure about this. He didn't want to be rude but it didn't pay to say too much. He was relieved when Garrison spoke. "No arrangement yet."

"You want I ship, no no." He shook his head in frustration. "You want I ship you …" He swore and called to the proprietor in rapid fire French. In response the man hurried over and listened to the older man then explained.

"Ah oui!" He nodded and turned to the two foreigners. "Marceau has a fishing boat. If you give him a hand sailing he will take you to England."

Chief looked to his leader. This was a decision he did not want to make. Trusting strangers was not something he did. Garrison was looking at him questioningly as he flicked his thumb towards his ear. At least that was what Chief thought he was doing. It could be he did not hear the proposal or maybe he was indicating he wanted to check something out before they committed or was he saying he wanted to leave? Safest thing was to delay so he said, "There's some'um we have to do first. Then we'll be back." He figured that was vague enough. He stood and waited for Garrison to drain his glass and stand before moving to the door.

"Any thing we can help you with?" offered the proprietor.

"No, but thanks for the drink." He held the door for his friend and they moved off down the street. The farther from the pier the quieter it got. Finally they found a back alley.

"What's going on?"

After scanning the area for eaves droppers Chief turned to Garrison. "The old guy has a boat but wants our help sailing it." He spoke as loud as he dared.

"I heard most of what he said but I wasn't sure."

"You know any contacts in this area?" asked Chief.

"No, and after the last time I didn't think you would want to try again."

Chief saw the sad smile and understood. "You were injured. Betcha had a king sized head ache too. But it's gettin' better idn't it?"

"Yeah." He paused then said, "Know anything about sailing a boat?"

"Nope. You?"

"Some. Shall we go? Might be faster than waiting for the Military."

"I don'ow." He frowned. "You trust 'm?"

"If he wants our help sailing then I assume he's alone. Two against one if he tries anything."

What if there's more of 'm?"

"We don't go."

The two men returned to the chaos of the pier. They had some time to wait for Marceau to return so they found a convenient jeep to sit on. Unsure how to proceed Chief waited a few minutes then blundered in. Knowing he could not hear with all this background noise he nudged the officer then pointed to him, smiled then gestured to the surrounding organized chaos. He had thought hard about how to express what he wanted to ask and realized he had not succeeded when Garrison looked at him and said he had not realized he was smiling.

Chief shook his head and tried again. He pointed at Garrison then used his finger to write in the dirt on the hood the letters L I K then gestured around.

Then Garrison did smile a smile of understanding as Chief rubbed out the evidence of his ignorance. "Do I like all this? It brings back memories of North Africa. There were good times," he looked down and the smile faded, "and bad." He looked up and watched as a tank rumbled nearby. "You're assigned to a unit, you get to know the men. You know you're doing your part in a big operation. Yeah, sometimes I miss it." Maybe it dawned on him then, what was really being asked, because his tone changed. "I also know that anyone can do that job. There are a lot of very qualified men out there, men who can lead, men that can carry out those orders. But what we're doing," he looked over at his companion, "I like to think that there are only a select few who can do this." He must have seen the concern on Chief's face because he broke into a grin and added, "And I think there are even fewer who could keep you thugs in line." Both men laughed.

Chief thought about what he had just heard. Garrison admitted he missed his former assignment but there was a pride in his voice when he talked about what he was doing now. He thought about how many leaders there were. Garrison was a good leader, that was for sure. But he was right. This here was not the kind of job that anyone could do. Could he, himself, be just a regular soldier? All that drilling and marching. When he was in the Residential school they had to do that drilling and marching. He hated it, hated it. He had done everything he could think of to get out of it. No, he could never be a regular soldier, but this, this he could do. Garrison just happened to be good at regular military stuff and at this.

Or was he? He remembered back at the beginning when Garrison had tried to get them to act all military-like. That hadn't worked. Maybe he was better at leading this covert stuff. He had a feeling that Actor, if he didn't like following the Warden, that he would take off, and Goniff too. Maybe even Casino. And him? He stayed because he said he would but he knew if it was bad enough that he would have sided with one of the others and left. But he stayed because he liked working with Garrison. He was fair and honest and he treated the guys, sometimes, as if he actually liked them. No, Garrison belonged here. This realization pleased him. He had enough guilt without adding keeping Garrison from what he liked better.

From down the road he saw Marceau moving stiffly in their direction. When he got closer Garrison went to meet him and they moved away from the bustle of the pier to a quiet spot where he could hear. Chief remained where he was so he could watch. It was habit, besides he didn't speak French. No one took notice of the two men even when they returned to where Chief sat.

"Marceau has a fishing boat, big enough to cross the channel. His crew are all gone, either dead or away fighting. He's too old to run the boat himself so he needs a little help. I told him we're not sailors but he said he'd tell us what to do. He wants to leave with the tide," he looked at his watch, " which is right about now." Chief hopped down and they moved off.

The boat was old but appeared sea worthy. Chief stood by the lines on the pier as the other two boarded. The engine coughed but refused to catch. A moment passed and the engine coughed again. Chief climbed on board and headed for the engine room. Marceau was hunched over as Garrison watched but moved out of the way as he approached. Not waiting Chief stepped in and between the two of them dismantled the machine, cleaned it and reassembled it. Once done it fired up and began to chug contentedly. Garrison went up and cast off the lines and they were underway. There was not a lot that had to be done once they cleared the break wall so they settled in. Chief watched as Garrison tried talking to the captain but the noise of the engine made it too hard to hear.

Fearing their previous fate Chief watched the horizon. There was no way he would see a sub but he had to watch. That was why he spotted the dark spot on the horizon. He hoped it was just passing but it began to grow. It did not take long to become clear, it was a ship and it was heading straight for them. Chief moved into the bridge and pointed it out to the Captain. He looked then pulled out a long brass telescope and had a long look. He then handed it to Chief. It was a ship but he couldn't tell whose.

Chief was worried. They were alone and unarmed just like last time. He guessed they were not meant to get home. 'Guess we should have stayed there. Too late now', he thought. He looked back to see if he could still see the coast but it was gone. He moved closer to Garrison.

He looked back towards the approaching ship and raised the telescope again, heart pounding, then yelled. The flag was British. They were the good guys. He handed the telescope to Garrison and watched him smile.

All three were smiling when the ship pulled up beside them and the amplified voice demanded to know their business. Marceau was all blustery about being delayed but the Captain of the other ship had the last laugh as the boats drew closer. "Glad to see you boys are finally on your way home."

That was when Chief recognized the voice. This was the same ship that had rescued them from the water the last time they were out here. The Number on the bow confirmed it. He quickly explained it to Garrison before waving back.

"We are on our way back. Would you like an escort?"

Marceau rang the ships bell twice and waved. They were under again.

Home at last. Chief opened the car door and stepped out. It was good to finally be home. They had stopped at the hospital where Garrison was declared to be well enough to go home and rest. Chief was going to be sure he did too. The rest of the team was on the front step waiting and they all entered together. They wanted to know all the details but Chief said the Warden had to rest.

Once upstairs in the room they shared Chief stretched out on his cot. "Sure made good use of your time off."

"What?" asked Casino.

"If we had got back when we were supposed to it woulda spoiled yer fun."

"Whadda ya mean?" asked Casino. He sounded just a little worried but trying to bluff.

"Kin smell it," he said with a faint smile.

Afterward

I have no intention of writing what he smelled. Just thought it was a way to end this. Think about it and let me know what you think he was referring to.

Mary