Chapter 34
Loud snoring woke her up. William didn't appear to have moved from where he had crashed in the bed. Elizabeth gazed at his face. Sun or wind had darkened it, but it remained the one she had admired on the ferry coming into Shetland.
Hunger compelled her to get out of bed and dress. It was after nine, but remnants of breakfast might still be on the table downstairs. She discovered Gene Carter talking to the colonel and her uncle. Elizabeth was surprised that they were awake when William was not. Both men looked immeasurably tired when they stared back at her. The conversation also stalled when she appeared; it probably had to do with the mission and details they weren't authorized to share or thought she shouldn't hear.
"Elizabeth," Edward Gardiner called. She sat down next to him. "I can't thank you enough for coming to welcome me." He sat slumped forward in his chair; his shoulders drooped as though weighed down. It was challenging to look into his face in the room's light and not by the moon's soft, indifferent glow as his cheek's hollowness and the dark shadows around his eyes spoke of horrific deprivations. "Having a…a loved one greet me has meant much." Edward turned away for a minute. "Colonel Rogers says I'm to be flown home today. It seems incredible that I'll see Nora soon."
"She's missed you; carried on, but she's missed you. All the kids have," she said, wanting to reach out to him somehow, but afraid of overwhelming him in his fragile state. "So too have Mum and Aunt Emma." Elizabeth put her hand down on the tabletop, unsure.
"Probably not Clarence," he said.
"But you're a Hertfordshire man; I'm sure Uncle Clarence missed you too," she insisted, giving a small laugh. He grunted, which she took as a sign of amusement—all he could muster for the moment.
She faltered then, withdrawing her hand, not knowing what else to say to this man—someone she had known her entire life. Elizabeth didn't want to say anything that might upset him—she wanted to give comfort—but would mentioning his family be helpful, saying how Dolly was a young lady or his youngest Ronnie had started school? Her job dealt with covert operations; perhaps she had been there too long and couldn't deal with ordinary conversations. Colonel Rogers noticed the conversation faltering and spoke of the weather and that it should hold for their flight home.
"You'll have to spend the night in Bedford, but you'll be home in London sometime tomorrow," he said.
"I'm to fly as well?" Elizabeth looked up.
"The Lysander should hold all of you. It isn't like we need to transport equipment, just personnel. We'll need to get you down to RAF Sumburgh to fly you out," he said.
"William is sound asleep." She explained that sleep deprivation and the doctor's injection had knocked him right out.
"He can sleep on the plane as easily in bed," the colonel quipped.
The efficient secretary kicked in; she consulted with Colonel Rogers and Beatrice about what needed to be done before departing. Then, she woke a groggy William. There needed to be a debriefing between the colonel, Major Darcy, and Captain Carter about the mission. The trio met in the colonel's study while Elizabeth helped Beatrice gather clothes and discarded items, pack, and prepare a meal.
After a week at Rose Cottage, it felt strange to be packing to leave. Finding the words to say thank you were difficult, but as she and Beatrice washed the first set of clothes (Maeve having been sent into town on errands to get her out of the house), she finally expressed her appreciation for the Rogers' support. Beatrice turned to hug her.
"After this is over, I hope we can meet and talk about ordinary subjects over tea. Maybe discuss books we have read," her hostess said, releasing her.
"I should like that," said Elizabeth.
Everyone gathered for a final meal, a sort of late luncheon or early tea. The atmosphere was subdued with the men anxious to be home, yet weary from their experiences. Mickie played, unaware of the changes that would occur. Elizabeth wasn't sure how to say goodbye to him, but she crafted a dozen paper boats and gave them to Beatrice to pass on to the boy. She could only hug him tight and kiss his cheek before his mother laid him down for a nap, oblivious to the goings-on in his home.
The team packed into the car and drove towards the island's southern tip, where one of two RAF airports was located. A dark-gray plane waited in readiness. Behind the pilot's seat were two spots. Later, Elizabeth would find that one space had been modified into two cramped seats. Edward Gardiner and Gene Carter took those two while Elizabeth and William became baggage, stuck in the hold with the suitcases and satchels. The plane would make the flight to Bedford without refueling.
Colonel Rogers was efficient in shaking hands all around, and though he didn't dismiss their thanks, he didn't pause to take them in as he moved on to the next person. Then they crowded into the plane and were winging towards home.
The inside of the hold was bitterly cold. Elizabeth and William were given two squat battery-powered lamps to light the darkness. Sacking provided slight padding between them and the cold metal of the craft; a padded blanket helped to keep the cold at bay. The flight was terrifying, noisy, and dark despite the lamps. Conversation was impossible. The two could only sit packed in with the baggage and wait for it to end. She hoped the bouncing and jarring did nothing to reopen William's wound. While he dozed, she was unable to sleep for the age the two of them spent inside the craft. Elizabeth couldn't help but question the cramped necessity of the trip over a longer ferry and train journey home.
When the whirring noise lessened, the airplane jerked and swooped, and Elizabeth hoped the end had come. Her insides cramped up in an indescribable way that brought her to the edge of being ill before the machine stopped. Voices called, the door opened, and a backlit head welcomed them to RAF Tempsford.
They were hustled off the airstrip, down a lane, and into a barn. Along the inside perimeter were bunks, just long enough to accommodate someone at rest with shelves above to hold gear. On one end was a heater, though its warmth didn't reach the center doors. But the barn was their home for the night, far more primitive accommodations than she had known the past week.
The four travelers huddled around the heater for an age waiting for the numbness that stiffened their limbs to dissipate and for the chatter of their teeth to lessen. Elizabeth assumed if she felt exhausted, her uncle, William, and Gene had to feel entirely drained. But there was that most British of cure-alls: tea. It was followed by food, blessed and necessary, even if it came from tins. Then they slept in those oddly-designed bunks. Penned in head and foot, they fell instantly asleep.
Elizabeth woke with a heavy head as if she had been to a club the night before and imbibed cocktails and danced half the night, but this was no party. Voices speaking in low tones drifted over, probably discussing their plans. She was the last to wake; her uncle was wrapped in a blanket next to the heater, and both William and Gene were gone.
They had slept in their clothes, so she only needed to slip on her shoes and pull on a coat. It was cold inside the barn. A man stepped forward, a squadron leader with the air of being in charge, and he outlined the plans, indicating that she and Captain Carter would take the train back to London, but that Mr. Gardiner would be driven.
"What about Major Darcy?" she pressed.
"I understand he's going north," the squadron leader answered. Elizabeth panicked as she wrenched open the barn door to scan the area outside for him. He and Eugene stood to one side, out of the wind, talking, but they stopped when they saw her. Gene nodded and walked away, pulling out a cigarette case; she hadn't recalled him smoking cigarettes before, only a pipe. William waited for her; he could tell she was concerned.
"Where are you going? Aren't you coming home? Won't you let me care for you?" she peppered him with questions as she approached. "I just got you back!" William's weariness from the day before hadn't been alleviated by sleeping in a cold barn. Bloodshot eyes stared at her; there was something else there—sickness—Elizabeth guessed his shoulder bothered him.
"I need to rest," he said carefully. "My shoulder wound is severe enough that I should convalesce."
"I'll ask for time away from work," she insisted, her eyes narrowing when a gust blew dust in her eyes. Maybe she also wasn't sure what to do.
"How are you in a sick room?" William asked gently. Elizabeth had no experience with nursing; she was a secretary that knew shorthand and typing. Her skills with numbers and documents were unparalleled, but she had never taken a first-aid course. Doubt showed on her face.
"It will only be a week or a fortnight. I'll go to Derbyshire and let my mother care for me," he explained.
"How can I work when you are hurt?" she asked, though the strength of her conviction was softening.
"There's still much to do," he pointed out. "I'll call you every day." He reached out with his good hand to touch her.
"That's costly, we can write." Part of Elizabeth didn't want to be reasonable and merely send letters like Jane and Charles—she did want to speak to him. Most of all, she wanted time with him.
"You're worth it. Besides, we have our future to consider, plans to make. We should select a date."
"A date?" she prompted.
"A wedding date," he said.
Champagne bubbles of happiness grew and popped inside and helped to nudge away doubts, and her desire to keep him near. Elizabeth realized that William and Uncle Ned were both home safe. Perhaps there had been one last band of doubt wrapped around her heart. The reality that Edward Gardiner was safely back in England hit her, and that last wrapping fell away. She and William were secure. A strong love tempered through trials they had faced together.
Love wasn't a battleship, steel-plated, and impervious. They had both faltered. Love was the small victories England and the Allies had achieved against the Germans. Small steps, knowing the best—the ultimate victory came later, and that they would succeed.
She said, "two weeks or four won't be long when we have a lifetime of tomorrows."
The hand on her arm slid a little awkwardly around her. William leaned down and Elizabeth steadied herself against his chest as they kissed. It wasn't a parting kiss; merely one that reflected the here and now and laid the groundwork for thousands of days of together.
Uncle Ned protested about being driven to Bristol and made some half-hearted arguments in favor of going first to London as if he needed to visit his tailors and dine at fine establishments to put more weight on his frame. Elizabeth warned him that he might encounter his hysterical sister, Frances.
The depth of darkness in his eyes (something she thought he might never lose) spoke of his past trials but also hinted at fears of returning to everyday life; it was a fear she could only partially comprehend. But Elizabeth felt that Eleanor Gardiner was the best person to care for him and gently nudged him towards home and hope. Though he looked away, unable to catch her eye as she spoke, he slowly nodded his head and agreed to be driven home. Two RAF personnel were tasked to take him; one was a woman which somehow comforted her.
Then it was her turn to leave. The three remaining SOE operatives were driven to the Bedford train station. William's train north left eleven minutes before theirs, disappearing around a bend. Elizabeth and Gene then boarded a London train; they found an empty carriage.
The mission had changed Eugene Carter; it had matured him. A single week on a boat in the North Sea and swooping into Norway to fight Germans had aged him. Elizabeth didn't often see her fellow operatives after a mission. They usually were sent into a country to stay and joined the resistance. Gene walked a little straighter, almost disdainful now, when before he had been jealous of her and William. Thoughts of William convalescing made her brave enough to ask if he would take time off to heal.
"I'll take a day or two," Gene said. "Dr. Brown was insistent, though I won't lie around to the point where I feel I'm running away from my experiences."
"You don't seem overly shaken by the mission," she remarked.
"Blowing up a mountain in an attempt to rescue four prisoners was both thrilling and terrifying at the same time," he murmured.
"Four!" Elizabeth cried.
"There were four prisoners. We couldn't save one; the Germans shot Harald Torsvig."
"I didn't know!" Hands came up to cover her mouth.
"Didn't William share anything with you?" Gene asked though in a kindly voice.
"William's wound has bothered him, perhaps more than he lets on. Most of the time he's been with me, he's been asleep," she explained. Elizabeth didn't know how to ask, nor did she know if she wanted him to tell her how the mission had played out. But he indulged her, if a modicum.
Gene settled back to narrate, "we met up with three Norwegian resistance once we got over. The crossing was no trouble, but the initial plans to jump them at the ferry crossing at Rutledal had to be scrapped. Those were our plans, but the Norwegians know their country far better than us Brits. The cragginess of the fjords are complex and interwoven, but we were able to navigate around a landmass, and swing around a fjord to its south side where the road crossed a bridge." He smiled slightly as he recalled the story's events.
"The road was cut out of a hillside, and we set explosives at a sharp bend in the road and managed to blow off part of the mountain." His smile disappeared. "The object was to separate and cause confusion; there were two transport trucks. We managed to cut off the lead truck from the rear. Then two teams advanced on the stalled trucks, but luck wasn't completely on our side."
"They fought back?" she prompted.
"Yes, in both cases we didn't manage to incapacitate the driver or guard of the truck as we expected." She thought he was sensitive with his use of language, saying incapacitate rather than kill. "In William's case, the guard roused while they were wrenching the prisoners out of the back of the truck and got a slug in him."
"And you?" Elizabeth couldn't help asking.
"I assumed that the driver was buried under rubble, but he managed to get two shots at me," said Gene.
"Two?"
"Thankfully, I've taken to smoking cigarettes," he said with a grin.
"Why?" Elizabeth asked sharply. He pulled out his cigarette case; a flattened slug dented the front.
"I bought this at a tobacconist in Scalloway, no doubt it saved my life. The other shot only grazed my arm. It's not as bad as William's; they didn't have to dig for a bullet." She felt her stomach turn over, and the lights danced for a few seconds.
"So those first two men coming off the boat weren't sailors?" she reasoned.
"Those were the other two prisoners we rescued, yes," Gene answered. "Gunnar and Lars."
"But one," she said, then stopped.
"Yes," he agreed. "By all accounts, Harald fought with the guards. Likely, he saved William's life and the resistance man beside him. From what I hear, it's the way Harald lived, fighting, despite being chained to the truck."
"Thank you for telling me," she said. Gene merely nodded, then opened his case, chose a cigarette, and lit it. The two of them rode in silence to London.
A/N: I had two uncles who fought in WW2, both in the Pacific theater. One was permanently changed with fighting. According to his sisters, my aunties and mother, he was a laughing boy before war, and forever a somber one after. He remained, however, kind. I still recall his gentleness. His children are my favorite cousins.
I think I discovered someone's snaps of the RAF Tempsford barn which has been maintained in its historic state (or it was Google maps?!) which was how I was able to describe its insides.
Harald Torsvig was a real resistance fighter. I took liberties having him killed here, but he died earlier in the war. He worked in 'Little London' Alesund to organize the Norwegian side of the Shetland bus and those who needed to be smuggled out of the country.
