Dark Deeds
Cub met Ginger in the corridor outside their rooms. He was dressed in full Commando battle dress, his face blackened.
Ginger took one look at him and unconsciously echoed the Duke of Wellington. "Crikey, Cub," he said, surprised, "I don't know what you'll do to the Jerries, but you frighten me!"
Cub grinned, his teeth showing white against his blackened skin. "I advise you to do the same if you don't want to make a good target," he said and smeared Ginger's cheeks, forehead and chin with the camouflage cream.
Unbidden, the words, "dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return" flashed through Ginger's mind. He hoped it was not a premonition.
Feeling faintly ridiculous, as though he was playing cowboys and indians, and vaguely amateurish in his civilian clothes, he followed Cub downstairs. The Colonel, he was surprised to see, was also in battle dress, a revolver strapped to his hip. A sense of unreality crept over Ginger, a feeling that it was all some ghastly nightmare from which he would soon awake to find life had returned to normal.
The Colonel issued Ginger with a service revolver and some rounds of ammunition. Automatically, he checked it was loaded and the safety catch was securely on. He had never entirely got used to carrying arms, although he knew he might well be grateful for the protection. Ginger looked at his companions as though seeing them for the first time. He felt he no longer knew them; the Colonel, now that the time for action was at hand, seemed rejuvenated. Ginger thought he looked as though he had shed twenty years. Cub, on the other hand, looked older, grimmer, an efficient fighting machine, a long way from the companion who had laughed and joked and taught him to ride. Ginger longed for a Spitfire and the freedom of the air. He felt ill equipped for hand to hand fighting and hoped that it would not come to that. Uneasily, he faced the prospect of another confrontation with the dark side of his character that had seen him reduce Schultz to pulp. He looked at his hands and tried to blot out the memory.
"Let's go," ordered the Colonel and they filed out quietly into the dark, moonless night for a rendezvous with the Local Defence Volunteers patrol and Colonel Havers' men. There was not a breath of air and, in the stillness, sound carried a long way. Ginger was grateful that his shoes had rubber soles and he could move noiselessly.
At the end of the lane, where the meadow met the marsh, a challenge rang out, to be answered by the Colonel. In next to no time they were surrounded by the detachment of Home Guard. Ginger regarded them curiously. They ranged in age, he guessed, from about 40 to 70 and came in all shapes and sizes. He supposed that the two younger men must work in a protected industry, such as the big diesel manufacturing plant he had seen across the river. The others were past active service, but, like their younger colleagues, keen to do their bit in uniform during the evenings and weekends to help fight Hitler. Sergeant Girling had nothing to report other than that Colonel Havers' men had arrived and had been deployed in the field, along the other side of the hedge where the dinghy had been found.
They settled down to wait. Time passed slowly. An owl passed by, hunting on silent wings. The silence of the night was broken by a screech as a small animal fell victim to a predator.
Ginger was just beginning to think it was a waste of time and they had better pack up and go home, when the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Somewhere, out in the darkness, a pebble had rolled. Instantly alert, he nudged Cub who gave his arm an answering squeeze to let him know that he had heard it, too. They strained their eyes to see in the darkness. Ginger thought he saw a shadow flit across the entrance to the field and touched Cub on the arm, pointing. Cub nodded.
They waited tensely, then, at a signal from the Colonel, began to edge forward. There seemed to be a dark shape at the base of the hedge where Towser had made his contribution to the war effort. Ginger realised that whoever it was must be trying to retrieve the dinghy. By the sounds of dragging that floated on the night air, obviously he had been successful. There were more sounds of movement, followed by a muffled curse. Ginger guessed that the damage to the dinghy inflicted by Cub's dog had been discovered. He then heard the low tones of a conversation, which puzzled him because he had thought the person they were hunting was alone.
Suddenly a light sprang up, the powerful beam of a torch, directed out to sea. It flickered as a message was sent. Surprisingly close in, it was answered by another. The listeners heard the splash of a boat as it was lowered onto the water.
Realising that if the code book was transferred to the waiting vessel, there would be no chance of recovering it, the Colonel decided to act. Switching on his own torch, he shone it on the couple who were crouched over the useless dinghy.
"Put your hands up," he ordered crisply. "You are surrounded!"
The effect was electric. The taller of the two men whipped out a pistol and began shooting. The other obeyed the order and put his hands up.
The Colonel doused his torch immediately and gave the order to return fire. Ginger had dived for cover as soon as he had seen von Stalhein's hand move toward his pocket.
There was silence. The gunfire had stopped. The Colonel risked illuminating the scene again. A body was lying face down in the hedgerow. Of von Stalhein there was no sign. Ginger and Cub made for the water's edge. Ripples were lapping against the bank and they surmised that the German had decided to swim for it. It was too dark to see anything clearly, but they could hear plashing out in the waterway.
"He's got away!" exclaimed Ginger disgustedly.
"Did they find the code book?" asked Cub, concentrating on the practical.
They went back to where the Colonel was examining the body. The missing code book was not there. The German, or sympathiser, they did not know which, lay in the lee of the hedge.
"That's funny," remarked the Colonel, bending down and peering at the corpse. "He seems to have been shot in the back of the head at close range."
Cub and Ginger exchanged glances. Cub raised an eyebrow and Ginger nodded silently. Von Stalhein took no chances at all.
The Colonel called up one of the full-time soldiers and ordered him to get in touch with his CO on the radio.
"Tell him to get Coastal Command out," he ordered. "Tell him we've let them slip through our fingers," he added, bitterly.
The man complied and soon confirmed that Colonel Havers was contacting Coastal Command.
In the darkness, they heard the throb of a heavy diesel.
"They're going to get away!" said Ginger, impotently.
