Operation absolom carter.., p.23
Operation Absolom (Carter's Commandos Book 1), page 23
Carter winced at the sudden noise. It had been unnecessary and could raise the alarm. Sven had watched too many gangster movies.
The only person inside turned out to be the police Sergeant, dozing behind the tall desk and now trying to clear his befuddled mind as he woke to the sound of the gunfire.
“Ikke prøv noe dumt.” Sven barked, producing a negative shake of the head from the Sergeant. “Hvor er nøklene til cellene?”
The frightened gaoler scrabbled to open a drawer and produced a ring with five large keys on it. From the floor plan of the police station, Carter knew that there were only four cells, so the fifth key must either give access to the holding area, or to the exercise yard at the back.
“Ask him for the keys to the vehicles.” Carter instructed. Outside Green and Ingrid covered the street, making sure that they weren’t surprised from behind, while Gudrid and Henninge squeezed into the small entrance area and added their firepower to threaten the already frightened police officer.
“Bilnøklene også.” The Sergeant dipped into the drawer again and came out with three keys, placing them on the counter next to the cell keys. Carter swept up the three small keys while Sven took the keys to the cells.
“Hvor er konstablene?” Sven asked.
“Hjemme. Jeg sendte dem hjem tidlig.” The Sergeant replied in a shaky voice.
“He says he sent the Constables home early. That means there should only be him here.”
“In that case I’ll leave you to it. When you see the flames from the E-Boats, make a run for the jetty and get out of here as fast as you can. We’ll see you at Valle in a couple of hours.”
“Good luck, English.” Sven gave him his sardonic smile.
“Please, don’t call me English.” Carter said as he left. “Call me Lucky.”
As he emerged, Green trotted down the police station steps after him, the sack full of petrol bombs slung over his shoulder. Carter identified the key for the Opel and tossed it to his companion. As soon as the car’s engine coughed into life, Carter threw the two remaining keys behind the sentry boxes where they would lie until daylight revealed their location. It would only delay pursuit by a few minutes, as any police officer worth his salt would be able to hot wire the other car, but every minute counted.
Carter folded himself into the small interior of the Opel. The local gestapo obviously didn’t hold sufficient rank to warrant a larger vehicle. Carter’s webbing and pack added bulk to him, making the front passenger seat even more cramped. The snow had started to fall again.
“Ok, Prof. Change of plan.” Carter said as Green pulled the car out of the centre of the three parking spaces.
“As if I hadn’t guessed.” Green replied, his teeth glinting in the dashboard lights.
Carter laughed. “We’re still going to the harbour, to the E-Boats, but we’re only going to burn one of them. The other one is our transport home. Before you ask, there’s no time for questions. If we get away, I’ll be happy to tell you why.” And if we don’t get away, explanations won’t matter, he thought.
Green shrugged his shoulders. Carter was right, this wasn’t the time for explanations. Following the instructions that Carter recited from memory, Green drove them through the blacked-out streets to the west end of the island, where the harbour wall projected out into the fjord. The two E-Boats were still tied up securely to it. The clouds were broken, scudding along under the north wind, allowing a small amount of moonlight to shine through intermittently. The sentry was just about visible, a dark figure against the slightly lighter sky, huddled inside his greatcoat. He looked around, hearing the car approaching, unslinging his rifle from his shoulder and holding it across his body.
Seeing the Opel the sentry stiffened. He would recognise the vehicle as belonging to the Gestapo, but that didn’t mean it was friendly. In fact, it could mean just the opposite. “Stop about ten yards short of him and keep the headlights on full beam.” The headlamps had been reduced to thin slits as part of the blackout precautions, but the extra candle power of the main beams would destroy the sentry’s night vision.
Carter felt at his belt, finding what he needed and holding it in his left hand, resting on his lap. Winding down the passenger side window Carter extended his right hand and made a beckoning motion. They say that at night all cats are grey, so Carter hoped that the sentry couldn’t make out the khaki of his battledress sleeve.
The sentry answered the summons. Carter was unsurprised. You don’t disobey a summons from the Gestapo. He was Kriegsmarine, not Wehrmacht Carter noted, Navy not Army.
As he approached, Carter crooked his finger, beckoning, as though he wanted the sentry to look inside. Obediently the German lowered his head. With his right hand Carter grabbed the collar of his greatcoat, pulling him further down, while with his left hand he stabbed upwards with his commando dagger, catching the sentry cleanly in the neck just below the strap of his helmet. Hot blood gushed over Carter’s hand out of the severed artery in the man’s throat; or was the jugular a vein? Carter thought idly. He withdrew the knife and the German collapsed to the ground, releasing his grip on his weapon and clasping at his throat, as though he could stem the red tide that was flooding across the cobbles that paved the top of the sea wall.
Carter pushed the car door open, finding it difficult to climb out as the sentry’s body got in the way. “Help me get him over the side.” Carter ordered. Green climbed out of the driver’s side and between them they grasped the body, Green at the feet and Carter holding the arms. He found himself looking down into the pleading eyes of the German, desperate not to have his life ended but it was already too late for that, Carter knew. Most of the sentry’s blood was now making the cobbles slippery under Carter’s feet. The knowledge that he had inflicted a mortal wound in cold blood disturbed Carter. It was different in training. Then the daggers were rubber and the victim got up afterwards and went for a mug of tea. He couldn’t look the German in the eye and had to avert his gaze. They dropped the body into the sea with a splash and Green returned to the pool of blood and picked up the German’s rifle, pitching it after the body. They heard it hit the water, then the only sound was the low burbling of the Opel’s engine.
“OK. Bring the car forward to the first E-Boat and get the petrol bombs onboard.” Carter ordered, pulling his rifle from behind the passenger seat and jogging away along the wall.
As soon as he drew level with the E-Boat he slowed and looked for any signs of life. There were none. Now, the problem was, how did he start an E-Boat? Did it need keys? Could it be hotwired? Could the two of them sail it by themselves? He realised that he hadn’t really thought this part of the plan through. But if they couldn’t start it, they could still revert to Plan A and fire bomb both boats before heading for the bridge. The island was barely a mile long. They could be there in little more than a minute.
He crept along the narrow gangway and stepped onto the deck behind the low superstructure. He felt gentle vibrations under his feet. The boat was under power, perhaps an auxiliary motor of some sort, keeping batteries charged and the heating and ventilation systems working. Lucky Carter! Lucky, lucky Carter.
He climbed a short ladder and found himself in a small wheelhouse. In the centre stood the wheel, not one of the big, spoked affairs of the movies; it was barely the size of the Opel’s steering wheel, though the brass it was made from glinted in the faint light. In front of the wheel was a dashboard, much bigger than that of a car but serving the same purpose. To one side were three throttle handles set close together, side by side so that they could be operated one handed. On both sides of the dashboard there was a profusion of dials and switches, below which were two buttons, one red and one green. Black plates were engraved with white letters to announce their purpose, as if Carter needed telling: ‘Motoren Starten’ and ‘Motoren Anstahlen’. Engines start and engines stop.
He heard footsteps behind him and saw Green gently placing the sack of petrol bombs on the deck.
“Back onto the wall and undo the mooring lines.” Carter hissed, pointing fore and aft. Green hurried to obey. A few seconds later there was a muffled thumping as the bow line was thrown onto the fore deck, then a similar sound from the rear as that rope, too, was thrown inboard. Green pulled the gang plank up onto the wall, then dropped onto the deck, landing with a thud of boots.
Carter pressed the green button and there was a muffled roar as the three marine diesels sprang into life. Turning the wheel slightly to steer the boat away from the wall, he nudged the centre throttle handle forward a fraction. The boat moved slowly, edging away from the wall. Once it was clear and in no danger of colliding with the other boat, just a few yards away, Carter returned the throttle leaver to the neutral position and went down to join Green on deck.
Green had already removed the screw caps of the bottles. Carter picked one up and stuffed a length of rag into the neck. They worked quickly, preparing all six bottles. When they were all ready, Carter held one in each hand and tilted them towards Green. He fished in his pocket and found a box of matches. Striking one, he lit the rags in the bottles. Pulling his arm back, Carter threw one bottle in an arc towards the E-Boat that was still held against the sea wall. He then transferred the other bottle to his right hand and threw that as well.
The first bottle crashed into the deck of the E-Boat halfway between its superstructure and a pair of ventilators that stood in the middle of the deck. Another bomb, thrown by Green, arced towards the boat even as Carter’s second struck it. They exploded in a satisfying whoof of igniting petrol. Carter’s third bomb was directed towards the aft of the boat, where a pair of twenty millimetre machine guns stood on a tall mounting. Green sent the last two bombs towards the foredeck, which they were just drifting past. One landed between the life rafts, while the other crashed against the mounting supporting the forward twenty millimetre machine gun. Flames were spreading as paint and other flammable material caught fire. Soon the boat would be alight from stem to stern, but Carter had no time to wait for that. He doubted that the fires would do any permanent damage. The metal of the hull wouldn’t burn too well, but the insulation on the electrical cabling would burn through and that should be enough to put the boat out of action.
“Prof, do you think you can fire those two machine guns?” Carter asked, pointing aft to where they stood pointing through a sheet of armoured metal.
“Shouldn’t have too much trouble working it out, Lucky.” He replied.
“OK, keep them aimed at the sea wall. If you see so much as a stray cat up there, you let fly.” With the fire illuminating the sea wall and the water around the burning boat, if the Germans arrived they would be clearly visible, while their E-Boat would be hidden by the darkness.
He returned to the wheelhouse and peered through. The snow was back with a vengeance and he had difficulty seeing through the windows. He wondered what the German for ‘windscreen wipers’ was but didn’t have time to work it out by trial and error. Instead he nudged the middle throttle handle forward a little once again, to give the boat some forward momentum and steered it away from the wall and into the navigable channel. He turned the wheel gently to the left, clearing the wall by a safe margin and peered into the night, trying to make out the lights of the safe channel.
During daylight he would have been able to make out the green painted buoys on the left and the red ones on the right, the opposite way round to the way they were viewed when approaching harbour. Before the war each buoy would have been brightly lit with a flashing light of the appropriate colour, but that was no longer the case.
Then he saw one. A tiny glimmer of green on the blackness of the sea. The markers were still lit, but with far lower wattage lights. They would have to be, Carter realised, or the harbour wouldn’t be usable at night and that was when the Germans moved a lot of their shipping, keeping it invisible to the RAF.
The light was in the correct place, but he couldn’t make out its opposite number on the right. No matter, so long as he kept the green ones in sight and on the left of the boat he didn’t run any risk of hitting any rocks. The map he had studied told him that he had to go east before he could turn back to the west, to get around the island of Hessa, which was joined to the end of Ålesund by another bridge. Then he could turn west and pass between the islands of Godøya to the north and something unpronounceable to the south. Only after that would they be in the open sea.
Carter looked around the cabin for the radio, finding it mounted above the windows, just in front of the throttles, probably where the captain stood, right next to the helmsman. It was a simple enough looking set, a VHF ship-to-shore radio and he didn’t need to be a genius to identify the on/off switch. It took a minute or so for the set’s valves to warm up, then the wheelhouse filled with a jabber of noise. There was the definite sound of panic in the words he was hearing as the Germans on shore sought to find out what was going on. It was too distracting, Carter decided and it told him nothing. He switched the radio off again.
The two islands at the mouth of fjord would be fortified to protect shipping, just like at Moyland, Carter suspected. He could only hope that the snow kept up, rendering them invisible from the shore. He knew the local telephone lines would now be buzzing with hastily issued orders. Soldiers and sailors would be being roused from their beds by panicking NCOs and berated for their slowness getting dressed. Carter gave a self-satisfied smirk as he imagined the garrison commander having to explain to his superiors how he had let an E-Boat be stolen from under his nose. But they were far from out of the woods yet.
He picked out the next green light, further to the right than the last one. That marked the start of the turn in the channel that would take them around the eastern end of Hessa and through one hundred and eighty degrees to the exit of the fjord.
He was frustrated by the slow speed, but there was nothing he could do. If he went too fast he might miss the next channel marker and run them aground on the opposite shore. It might even result in the boat sinking under them. He couldn’t risk that.
Behind him he heard the loud bark of the twin twenty mm machine guns. Someone must have arrived to investigate the flames. Green kept up a controlled rate of fire, just a few rounds in each burst, picking out targets as they silhouetted themselves against the burning E-Boat.
A freak wind lifted the curtain of snow momentarily and Carter made out the sweeping arc of twinkling green along with the red lights that were now closer on the right hand side, then the snow closed in again. But it had given him some idea of the route they would follow. There was still a lot of curve in the marked channel. He had to keep the speed low. Once they were on a straight course, heading between the two islands, he would open the throttles wide and take them up to top speed. He wondered just how fast the boat could go. More to the point, how far could they go without refuelling? Was it far enough to get them to Scotland? Carter had to hope so.
He scanned the dials, looking for the ones that would indicate fuel levels. In the army they refuelled their vehicles every time they stopped, so that if they had to make a run for it, they would do so on full tanks. Did the Navy do the same? Particularly the German Navy? He found two dials that had the word ‘Ltrs x 100’ engraved on them. They must be fuel gauges he thought. The needles of both were resting reassuringly on the right hand stops.
Carter looked behind him as he heard feet on the wooden planks of the wheelhouse’s deck.
“We’re out of range of anything other than a really good sniper, or artillery.” Green informed him.
“They may have some of that on these islands.” Carter replied. “We’ll have to hope that the snow masks us.”
“Was this the plan all along?” Green asked.
“Sort of. The snow was the final element. We couldn’t risk it without that. Snow will keep the Luftwaffe grounded in the morning, so they can’t carry out an aerial search for us. E-Boats work in flotillas of between five and a dozen boats, so we would have to assume that there are others tied up along the coast who would come out to try to chase us down. But in this weather, they could pass within a hundred yards and not see us.”
“You didn’t trust Sven to keep his word and help us to get away.”
“Not really. I was pretty sure he had already lied to us.”
“How so?”
“It was when he told us about Olav and his family being in Ålesund. He told us that the town was in a different control area. The Germans may be many things, but one of them is that they are sticklers for the chain of command. Olav wouldn’t have been taken to another area for interrogation. In particular he wouldn’t have been taken to such a small town as Ålesund. It only has two Gestapo officers, for goodness sake. I think they’d have been taken to Bergen. It’s the biggest city in this region. I didn’t pick up on it at first, but when we did the reconnaissance, Sven seemed to have forgotten that there should be fourteen of us on the return journey and that made me think. He said there would only be ten. I had to correct him.”
“Would he have killed us?”
“I don’t think so, but he would have played us off for his own purposes. Maybe tried to persuade us to carry out more raids for him, or maybe used us for leverage to get more guns or money from the government. Anyway, I didn’t trust him to get us home any time soon, so I took the opportunity when it appeared.”
“But you decided not to tell me.”
“Yes, sorry about that. I wanted to, but if anyone had overheard us, Sven would have found a way to stop us. We only had his word for it that none of the others spoke English, including Fredrick. His radio was tuned in to the BBC Home Service, I had to retune it to an Irish service. I’m guessing Frederik new at least a little bit of English.”
“It was a risky plan, Boss.”
“Yes, but he who dares, wins.” Carter liked the sound of that. It had a certain ring to it. Someone should turn that into a motto, he thought. Maybe he’d suggest it for 15 Commando.
“Pity about poor old Olav and his family.”
The only person inside turned out to be the police Sergeant, dozing behind the tall desk and now trying to clear his befuddled mind as he woke to the sound of the gunfire.
“Ikke prøv noe dumt.” Sven barked, producing a negative shake of the head from the Sergeant. “Hvor er nøklene til cellene?”
The frightened gaoler scrabbled to open a drawer and produced a ring with five large keys on it. From the floor plan of the police station, Carter knew that there were only four cells, so the fifth key must either give access to the holding area, or to the exercise yard at the back.
“Ask him for the keys to the vehicles.” Carter instructed. Outside Green and Ingrid covered the street, making sure that they weren’t surprised from behind, while Gudrid and Henninge squeezed into the small entrance area and added their firepower to threaten the already frightened police officer.
“Bilnøklene også.” The Sergeant dipped into the drawer again and came out with three keys, placing them on the counter next to the cell keys. Carter swept up the three small keys while Sven took the keys to the cells.
“Hvor er konstablene?” Sven asked.
“Hjemme. Jeg sendte dem hjem tidlig.” The Sergeant replied in a shaky voice.
“He says he sent the Constables home early. That means there should only be him here.”
“In that case I’ll leave you to it. When you see the flames from the E-Boats, make a run for the jetty and get out of here as fast as you can. We’ll see you at Valle in a couple of hours.”
“Good luck, English.” Sven gave him his sardonic smile.
“Please, don’t call me English.” Carter said as he left. “Call me Lucky.”
As he emerged, Green trotted down the police station steps after him, the sack full of petrol bombs slung over his shoulder. Carter identified the key for the Opel and tossed it to his companion. As soon as the car’s engine coughed into life, Carter threw the two remaining keys behind the sentry boxes where they would lie until daylight revealed their location. It would only delay pursuit by a few minutes, as any police officer worth his salt would be able to hot wire the other car, but every minute counted.
Carter folded himself into the small interior of the Opel. The local gestapo obviously didn’t hold sufficient rank to warrant a larger vehicle. Carter’s webbing and pack added bulk to him, making the front passenger seat even more cramped. The snow had started to fall again.
“Ok, Prof. Change of plan.” Carter said as Green pulled the car out of the centre of the three parking spaces.
“As if I hadn’t guessed.” Green replied, his teeth glinting in the dashboard lights.
Carter laughed. “We’re still going to the harbour, to the E-Boats, but we’re only going to burn one of them. The other one is our transport home. Before you ask, there’s no time for questions. If we get away, I’ll be happy to tell you why.” And if we don’t get away, explanations won’t matter, he thought.
Green shrugged his shoulders. Carter was right, this wasn’t the time for explanations. Following the instructions that Carter recited from memory, Green drove them through the blacked-out streets to the west end of the island, where the harbour wall projected out into the fjord. The two E-Boats were still tied up securely to it. The clouds were broken, scudding along under the north wind, allowing a small amount of moonlight to shine through intermittently. The sentry was just about visible, a dark figure against the slightly lighter sky, huddled inside his greatcoat. He looked around, hearing the car approaching, unslinging his rifle from his shoulder and holding it across his body.
Seeing the Opel the sentry stiffened. He would recognise the vehicle as belonging to the Gestapo, but that didn’t mean it was friendly. In fact, it could mean just the opposite. “Stop about ten yards short of him and keep the headlights on full beam.” The headlamps had been reduced to thin slits as part of the blackout precautions, but the extra candle power of the main beams would destroy the sentry’s night vision.
Carter felt at his belt, finding what he needed and holding it in his left hand, resting on his lap. Winding down the passenger side window Carter extended his right hand and made a beckoning motion. They say that at night all cats are grey, so Carter hoped that the sentry couldn’t make out the khaki of his battledress sleeve.
The sentry answered the summons. Carter was unsurprised. You don’t disobey a summons from the Gestapo. He was Kriegsmarine, not Wehrmacht Carter noted, Navy not Army.
As he approached, Carter crooked his finger, beckoning, as though he wanted the sentry to look inside. Obediently the German lowered his head. With his right hand Carter grabbed the collar of his greatcoat, pulling him further down, while with his left hand he stabbed upwards with his commando dagger, catching the sentry cleanly in the neck just below the strap of his helmet. Hot blood gushed over Carter’s hand out of the severed artery in the man’s throat; or was the jugular a vein? Carter thought idly. He withdrew the knife and the German collapsed to the ground, releasing his grip on his weapon and clasping at his throat, as though he could stem the red tide that was flooding across the cobbles that paved the top of the sea wall.
Carter pushed the car door open, finding it difficult to climb out as the sentry’s body got in the way. “Help me get him over the side.” Carter ordered. Green climbed out of the driver’s side and between them they grasped the body, Green at the feet and Carter holding the arms. He found himself looking down into the pleading eyes of the German, desperate not to have his life ended but it was already too late for that, Carter knew. Most of the sentry’s blood was now making the cobbles slippery under Carter’s feet. The knowledge that he had inflicted a mortal wound in cold blood disturbed Carter. It was different in training. Then the daggers were rubber and the victim got up afterwards and went for a mug of tea. He couldn’t look the German in the eye and had to avert his gaze. They dropped the body into the sea with a splash and Green returned to the pool of blood and picked up the German’s rifle, pitching it after the body. They heard it hit the water, then the only sound was the low burbling of the Opel’s engine.
“OK. Bring the car forward to the first E-Boat and get the petrol bombs onboard.” Carter ordered, pulling his rifle from behind the passenger seat and jogging away along the wall.
As soon as he drew level with the E-Boat he slowed and looked for any signs of life. There were none. Now, the problem was, how did he start an E-Boat? Did it need keys? Could it be hotwired? Could the two of them sail it by themselves? He realised that he hadn’t really thought this part of the plan through. But if they couldn’t start it, they could still revert to Plan A and fire bomb both boats before heading for the bridge. The island was barely a mile long. They could be there in little more than a minute.
He crept along the narrow gangway and stepped onto the deck behind the low superstructure. He felt gentle vibrations under his feet. The boat was under power, perhaps an auxiliary motor of some sort, keeping batteries charged and the heating and ventilation systems working. Lucky Carter! Lucky, lucky Carter.
He climbed a short ladder and found himself in a small wheelhouse. In the centre stood the wheel, not one of the big, spoked affairs of the movies; it was barely the size of the Opel’s steering wheel, though the brass it was made from glinted in the faint light. In front of the wheel was a dashboard, much bigger than that of a car but serving the same purpose. To one side were three throttle handles set close together, side by side so that they could be operated one handed. On both sides of the dashboard there was a profusion of dials and switches, below which were two buttons, one red and one green. Black plates were engraved with white letters to announce their purpose, as if Carter needed telling: ‘Motoren Starten’ and ‘Motoren Anstahlen’. Engines start and engines stop.
He heard footsteps behind him and saw Green gently placing the sack of petrol bombs on the deck.
“Back onto the wall and undo the mooring lines.” Carter hissed, pointing fore and aft. Green hurried to obey. A few seconds later there was a muffled thumping as the bow line was thrown onto the fore deck, then a similar sound from the rear as that rope, too, was thrown inboard. Green pulled the gang plank up onto the wall, then dropped onto the deck, landing with a thud of boots.
Carter pressed the green button and there was a muffled roar as the three marine diesels sprang into life. Turning the wheel slightly to steer the boat away from the wall, he nudged the centre throttle handle forward a fraction. The boat moved slowly, edging away from the wall. Once it was clear and in no danger of colliding with the other boat, just a few yards away, Carter returned the throttle leaver to the neutral position and went down to join Green on deck.
Green had already removed the screw caps of the bottles. Carter picked one up and stuffed a length of rag into the neck. They worked quickly, preparing all six bottles. When they were all ready, Carter held one in each hand and tilted them towards Green. He fished in his pocket and found a box of matches. Striking one, he lit the rags in the bottles. Pulling his arm back, Carter threw one bottle in an arc towards the E-Boat that was still held against the sea wall. He then transferred the other bottle to his right hand and threw that as well.
The first bottle crashed into the deck of the E-Boat halfway between its superstructure and a pair of ventilators that stood in the middle of the deck. Another bomb, thrown by Green, arced towards the boat even as Carter’s second struck it. They exploded in a satisfying whoof of igniting petrol. Carter’s third bomb was directed towards the aft of the boat, where a pair of twenty millimetre machine guns stood on a tall mounting. Green sent the last two bombs towards the foredeck, which they were just drifting past. One landed between the life rafts, while the other crashed against the mounting supporting the forward twenty millimetre machine gun. Flames were spreading as paint and other flammable material caught fire. Soon the boat would be alight from stem to stern, but Carter had no time to wait for that. He doubted that the fires would do any permanent damage. The metal of the hull wouldn’t burn too well, but the insulation on the electrical cabling would burn through and that should be enough to put the boat out of action.
“Prof, do you think you can fire those two machine guns?” Carter asked, pointing aft to where they stood pointing through a sheet of armoured metal.
“Shouldn’t have too much trouble working it out, Lucky.” He replied.
“OK, keep them aimed at the sea wall. If you see so much as a stray cat up there, you let fly.” With the fire illuminating the sea wall and the water around the burning boat, if the Germans arrived they would be clearly visible, while their E-Boat would be hidden by the darkness.
He returned to the wheelhouse and peered through. The snow was back with a vengeance and he had difficulty seeing through the windows. He wondered what the German for ‘windscreen wipers’ was but didn’t have time to work it out by trial and error. Instead he nudged the middle throttle handle forward a little once again, to give the boat some forward momentum and steered it away from the wall and into the navigable channel. He turned the wheel gently to the left, clearing the wall by a safe margin and peered into the night, trying to make out the lights of the safe channel.
During daylight he would have been able to make out the green painted buoys on the left and the red ones on the right, the opposite way round to the way they were viewed when approaching harbour. Before the war each buoy would have been brightly lit with a flashing light of the appropriate colour, but that was no longer the case.
Then he saw one. A tiny glimmer of green on the blackness of the sea. The markers were still lit, but with far lower wattage lights. They would have to be, Carter realised, or the harbour wouldn’t be usable at night and that was when the Germans moved a lot of their shipping, keeping it invisible to the RAF.
The light was in the correct place, but he couldn’t make out its opposite number on the right. No matter, so long as he kept the green ones in sight and on the left of the boat he didn’t run any risk of hitting any rocks. The map he had studied told him that he had to go east before he could turn back to the west, to get around the island of Hessa, which was joined to the end of Ålesund by another bridge. Then he could turn west and pass between the islands of Godøya to the north and something unpronounceable to the south. Only after that would they be in the open sea.
Carter looked around the cabin for the radio, finding it mounted above the windows, just in front of the throttles, probably where the captain stood, right next to the helmsman. It was a simple enough looking set, a VHF ship-to-shore radio and he didn’t need to be a genius to identify the on/off switch. It took a minute or so for the set’s valves to warm up, then the wheelhouse filled with a jabber of noise. There was the definite sound of panic in the words he was hearing as the Germans on shore sought to find out what was going on. It was too distracting, Carter decided and it told him nothing. He switched the radio off again.
The two islands at the mouth of fjord would be fortified to protect shipping, just like at Moyland, Carter suspected. He could only hope that the snow kept up, rendering them invisible from the shore. He knew the local telephone lines would now be buzzing with hastily issued orders. Soldiers and sailors would be being roused from their beds by panicking NCOs and berated for their slowness getting dressed. Carter gave a self-satisfied smirk as he imagined the garrison commander having to explain to his superiors how he had let an E-Boat be stolen from under his nose. But they were far from out of the woods yet.
He picked out the next green light, further to the right than the last one. That marked the start of the turn in the channel that would take them around the eastern end of Hessa and through one hundred and eighty degrees to the exit of the fjord.
He was frustrated by the slow speed, but there was nothing he could do. If he went too fast he might miss the next channel marker and run them aground on the opposite shore. It might even result in the boat sinking under them. He couldn’t risk that.
Behind him he heard the loud bark of the twin twenty mm machine guns. Someone must have arrived to investigate the flames. Green kept up a controlled rate of fire, just a few rounds in each burst, picking out targets as they silhouetted themselves against the burning E-Boat.
A freak wind lifted the curtain of snow momentarily and Carter made out the sweeping arc of twinkling green along with the red lights that were now closer on the right hand side, then the snow closed in again. But it had given him some idea of the route they would follow. There was still a lot of curve in the marked channel. He had to keep the speed low. Once they were on a straight course, heading between the two islands, he would open the throttles wide and take them up to top speed. He wondered just how fast the boat could go. More to the point, how far could they go without refuelling? Was it far enough to get them to Scotland? Carter had to hope so.
He scanned the dials, looking for the ones that would indicate fuel levels. In the army they refuelled their vehicles every time they stopped, so that if they had to make a run for it, they would do so on full tanks. Did the Navy do the same? Particularly the German Navy? He found two dials that had the word ‘Ltrs x 100’ engraved on them. They must be fuel gauges he thought. The needles of both were resting reassuringly on the right hand stops.
Carter looked behind him as he heard feet on the wooden planks of the wheelhouse’s deck.
“We’re out of range of anything other than a really good sniper, or artillery.” Green informed him.
“They may have some of that on these islands.” Carter replied. “We’ll have to hope that the snow masks us.”
“Was this the plan all along?” Green asked.
“Sort of. The snow was the final element. We couldn’t risk it without that. Snow will keep the Luftwaffe grounded in the morning, so they can’t carry out an aerial search for us. E-Boats work in flotillas of between five and a dozen boats, so we would have to assume that there are others tied up along the coast who would come out to try to chase us down. But in this weather, they could pass within a hundred yards and not see us.”
“You didn’t trust Sven to keep his word and help us to get away.”
“Not really. I was pretty sure he had already lied to us.”
“How so?”
“It was when he told us about Olav and his family being in Ålesund. He told us that the town was in a different control area. The Germans may be many things, but one of them is that they are sticklers for the chain of command. Olav wouldn’t have been taken to another area for interrogation. In particular he wouldn’t have been taken to such a small town as Ålesund. It only has two Gestapo officers, for goodness sake. I think they’d have been taken to Bergen. It’s the biggest city in this region. I didn’t pick up on it at first, but when we did the reconnaissance, Sven seemed to have forgotten that there should be fourteen of us on the return journey and that made me think. He said there would only be ten. I had to correct him.”
“Would he have killed us?”
“I don’t think so, but he would have played us off for his own purposes. Maybe tried to persuade us to carry out more raids for him, or maybe used us for leverage to get more guns or money from the government. Anyway, I didn’t trust him to get us home any time soon, so I took the opportunity when it appeared.”
“But you decided not to tell me.”
“Yes, sorry about that. I wanted to, but if anyone had overheard us, Sven would have found a way to stop us. We only had his word for it that none of the others spoke English, including Fredrick. His radio was tuned in to the BBC Home Service, I had to retune it to an Irish service. I’m guessing Frederik new at least a little bit of English.”
“It was a risky plan, Boss.”
“Yes, but he who dares, wins.” Carter liked the sound of that. It had a certain ring to it. Someone should turn that into a motto, he thought. Maybe he’d suggest it for 15 Commando.
“Pity about poor old Olav and his family.”
