Dunkirk Spirit Part 36

Knees bent, arms out, ra, ra, rah

'You remind me of Dorothy's dog in The Wizard of Oz,' Archie told him. He was an avid reader of Film Fun. 'Toto. Toto.'

The dog was suddenly filled with excitement, his little head bobbed up and down. A thought pa.s.sed through Archie's mind. He could take the dog back for Grace. He could say it was Bill's dog. That would make things easier. 'No,' thought Archie, aloud. 'That wouldn't be right.'

Toto now dropped back on all fours. He tilted his head to one side and stared at Archie.

'Grace would love you,' he told Toto. It would give her something to stroke and cuddle while she cried. The Hokey c.o.key put him in mind of their farewell party. Sweet sixteen and now she had been kissed. They had stepped outside into the frosty yard for a breath of fresh air. Grace had s.h.i.+vered with the cold but she had refused Archie's jacket. Instead, she had cuddled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Archie had felt his stomach muscles tighten at the time, worrying that Bill might come looking for him.

'I'm going to miss you, Archie.' Grace kept her head on his shoulder.

'I'll miss you, too, Grace.'

'Will you?' she asked.

'Of course I will.'

'What? Really miss me?'

Archie lifted her chin with the tip of his finger and there had been a sudden emotional charge as their eyes met. He could feel it now. And he could see her, too. Archie sighed. Bill's family had been more like his real family, or how his real family should have been. There had never been a single conversation with his own father that did not involve shouting. His dad was a p.i.s.shead and his mum was just plain scatty. Bill's dad, on the other hand, had talked to him at length about the Great War and about football and fis.h.i.+ng and all sorts of things. Bill's mum was a wonderful cook. He rarely ever ate at home. Archie thought again of that moment on the step with Grace. He had lifted her chin and she had turned her head to look into his eyes. Grace had lovely hazel eyes. Then they had kissed. Their lips touched tentatively at first. Archie closed his eyes again and felt the warmth of her lips. Her lips had parted and, before he could stop himself, his tongue was caressing hers and his heart was beating fit to burst.

'Will you really miss me, Archie?' she had asked again.

He had smiled back, lost for words.

'I love you Archie Marley,' Grace whispered, but so quietly only she could hear.

09:30 Friday 31 May 1940.

Off Dunkirk, France 'What?' exclaimed Charlie Lavender, spitting out his tea. He stared open mouthed. 'What about our blokes? That's why we're 'ere, ain't it?'

Burnell spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. 'That's what the captain just told me, and that's what the captain gets.'

'Look, I ain't got nothing against the French,' explained Charlie. 'Not much, anyway. And good luck to 'em, I say. But I came here to get our blokes off and that's want I'm gonna do.' He jerked his head as if to say 'so there!'

'This is the Royal Navy,' insisted Burnell. 'Not the pick 'n' mix counter at Woolworth's. Anyway, this one comes straight from Churchill...'

'Churchill? Who does he think he is?'

'He thinks he's Prime Minister, that's who.'

'Well, I didn't vote for him. He didn't exactly cover himself in glory during the last show. Gallipoli! What a c.o.c.k up!'

'Whatever!' sighed Burnell. 'We're off to La Panne now.'

'Where's that then?'

'The next beach up the coast. It's a Belgian resort.'

'What? We're not lifting b.l.o.o.d.y Belgians off too?'

'Just the French.' Burnell turned to Tom and the young Sea Cadet fired up the engine. 'That-a-way!' He pointed off into the distance. 'And don't spare the horses.'

Phoebe reared up out of the water as Tom applied full power.

A French trawler had been beached some distance from the sh.o.r.e and Charlie edged Phoebe up against her side. 'Secure that bowline!' he shouted to Ted, who fumbled just as a wave lifted the cruiser's bow.

'All secure, Charlie!'

The French troops were already wading out into the surf. They clambered up the sides of the trawler and began to drop down onto Phoebe's foredeck.

'Blow me!' exclaimed Charlie from the bridge. 'I thought our blokes looked in a bad way. Look at 'em! Dirty, unshaven, verminous...'

'Exhausted,' put in Burnell. 'And worried that they're leaving France, and their loved ones.'

'They look like they've been living rough for a year!'

'Fighting the Germans, more likely.'

'Yeah, right!' exclaimed Charlie. 'Hang on a mo'.' He turned and dropped from the bridge, making his way quickly through the growing crowd down to the saloon. Phoebe was well found in the matter of supplies. The British taxpayer had footed the bill. Charlie pushed his way into the long cabin and reached down to the nearest locker. He used his key and then peered inside before slamming back the lid and moving on to the next. Eventually, he found what he was looking for and began to cram cartons of cigarettes into his arms. He looked at the men filling the saloon. He could smell them, too.

'Lovely cigarettes!' called Charlie. 'Get your lovely cigarettes here!'

'Merci!'

'Two-and-six please, chum,' said Charlie.

The soldier looked confused.

'Naw! Just kiddin'.' Charlie tossed the rest of the cigarettes into the air and pushed his way back to the bridge.

'That was an artillery sh.e.l.l,' said Burnell. Water and bits of wood continued to fall all around them. The sh.e.l.l had landed on the other side of the French trawler, and that had cus.h.i.+oned the blast.

'Ted!' shouted Burnell. 'Let slip!' He turned to Charlie and jerked his thumb towards the horizon. Phoebe pulled back, rapidly increasing the distance from the remains of the trawler. Her funnel had completed disappeared and her hull, broken in two, smouldered and steamed.

'How can that be artillery?' asked Charlie. 'How could they have seen us?'

'I don't know. Perhaps it was a lucky shot. Perhaps they've got a spotter plane somewhere.'

They both looked up into the sky. Tom turned his head away from the men still in the water and looked up, too.

'b.l.o.o.d.y good shooting, then.' Charlie was impressed. He had seen plenty of good shooting in the line at Ypres. 'And not even a ranging shot!' He nudged Tom in the back and handed over the wheel. 'And zigzag! Don't go in a bloomin' straight line. Not if they can see us.'

'Right, Charlie.'

Phoebe heeled first one way and then the other. The men up front also began scanning the sky.

'Here we go,' called Burnell. He dropped the binoculars to his chest and tapped Tom on the shoulder. 'That destroyer will do nicely, if we can catch her up.'

'No problem,' said Tom. The sea was much calmer away from the sh.o.r.e and Phoebe tore across the waves at a cracking pace, throwing a snow-white bow-wave along her sides to soak the men lining the rails.

A vast fountain of water lifted out of the sea some five hundred yards away from the destroyer.

'These blokes are good!' said Charlie. Phoebe heeled violently to port and it seemed for the briefest of instants that she might not recover, but Tom had a good feel for the cruiser and he brought her quickly back. Another sh.e.l.l landed much closer to the destroyer.

'What shall I do now?' asked Tom of Burnell.

He thought for a moment. 'Keep our distance, but stick to her like glue.' The destroyer had also been zigzagging, now she was making for the horizon and out of range, but she was no match for Phoebe.

'Where's Ted?' asked Tom.

'Ain't he up front?' answered Charlie.

'No, he ain't.'

'Have you looked below?'

'Yes. Yes. Course I b.l.o.o.d.y have. I can't find him anywhere.'

Burnell pulled himself up to the bridge. 'Ruddy cheek!' he called out as he reached the top step. 'That captain said we shouldn't worry about the artillery. We're just not a tempting enough target. Can you believe that?' He looked at Charlie and then at Tom.

'What's up?' asked Burnell.

'It's Ted,' stuttered Tom. 'He's...'

'He ain't 'ere,' said Charlie.

11:35 Friday 31 May 1940.

Dunkirk, France By the time Archie Marley had sunk seven beers, little Toto had become his new best friend. The chance to rest and let off steam had been just the tonic he needed. It was a glimpse again of the real world. After a bit of a knee's up and a singsong he felt almost invigorated. He could also see more plus points to returning home.

He continued to rub Toto's tummy. The little dog lay on his back with all four legs spread out. Archie wondered about himself sometimes. He had been a coward in wanting to avoid Bill's family. If anyone should break the news, it really should be he. He placed the beer bottle to his lips and imagined that he was kissing Grace again on the step.

The party had now died down, although the signallers continued to work their way through the beer and wine. One man strummed a small four-stringed guitar while another swayed around the room like a Turkish dancer, a wine bottle in each hand.

'Come on, Wally!' he called suddenly. 'We don't want nothing maudlin. Give us a proper tune I can dance to.'

The man with the ukulele smiled.

I've just been on my holidays to Blackpool by the sea

Although I'm feeling mighty fit, my feet are troubling me

I've queued for hours and hours but I must say it was grand

To get as near as half a mile to several miles of sand

The signallers climbed as one to their feet and began to link arms. Archie pulled himself up, clutching Toto like a baby. He tucked him inside the gasmask bag, leaving his head to stick out, and sauntered onto the dance floor.

On Blackpool prom on Sat.u.r.day, the women looked simply grand...

'What the b.l.o.o.d.y 'ell's going on 'ere then?' A chief petty officer stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips. Other sailors stood behind him.

'h.e.l.lo sailor!'

'Out!' shouted the chief. 'Out! Outside at the double!'

'Trust the bloomin' Navy...'

Archie squinted in the daylight and tugged the gasmask bag closer. Hundreds of men, British and French, were making their way up the street. The town was in ruins. Smoke and dust lingered in the air and the boom of artillery reverberated off the remaining walls. Archie stepped forward and joined the crowd. The broken gla.s.s that appeared to cover the entire surface of the road cracked like fresh snow and ice beneath their feet. In time, they approached the docks. The men stared in silence at the smouldering wreckage.

'I see you brought a packed lunch, then,' said a fusilier beside him. The man looked down at Toto who stared with equal wonder at the devastation of the port. He smiled at the dog. 'You thinking of taking him back?'

Archie pulled Toto even closer to his breast and asked: 'What's it to you?'

'No,' said the fusilier. 'Don't take it wrong. I was just asking, that's all. You might be able to get him on the boat all right but they're going to want a health certificate or something when you get to England. They might not let you keep him. That's what I was thinking. He's got a lively little face, hasn't he?'

'Sorry,' said Archie. 'I didn't mean anything by it.'

'You want to keep him out of sight. Sling your helmet over the bag. That'll cover him up, and keep him safe.' The fusilier smiled. 'I always wanted a dog,' he declared. 'Couldn't have one when I was a nipper 'cos we didn't have the s.p.a.ce and now me and the misses we've got a flat. Very nice flat it is, too. But not the sort of place to keep a dog. My wife has a cat.'

'Never did like cats,' admitted Archie.

'Technically, they're vermin, you know. In the eyes of the law, that is.'

The long line of men had reached the bank of a deep ca.n.a.l and they halted. On the other side could be seen the sea. Thick black smoke hung low, filling their lungs with each breath. Sh.e.l.ls continued to land on the port a mile or so now to the east. A naval officer was marching up the line, counting off heads. Each time that he counted fifty, he halted and used his arms to physically divide the men. It was nearly five full minutes before he reached Archie. The fusilier gave him a nudge and Archie swung the bag around to the back. Toto sat still, hidden beneath the helmet. The officer cut the crowd with his arms and moved on, wagging a finger at each man and counting aloud.