Camp 30 (19 page)

I knew this was good, that they had captured or destroyed an enemy submarine, but I also knew that most likely people had died—that still more people were going to die tonight. I knew they were Germans. I knew they were our enemies. I also knew they were people. People with wives and children and families. People like Otto. I couldn't bear to watch. I looked away.

“The two boys come with me!” Bill ordered loudly. “The others will remain under guard on the beach!”

Two men grabbed me roughly by the arms, while two others did the same to Jack. We were half marched, half carried, my feet barely touching the sand, behind Bill,
across the beach and toward the woods. Reaching the protection of the trees, Bill stopped and turned around.

“Release them,” he said.

He walked slowly back toward us. He looked angry. “You realize that you two almost got yourselves killed …
again
?”

“I'm sorry … we're sorry … it all just happened and there was nothing we could do and they had guns and—”

“George,” he said as he stopped me by putting a hand on my shoulder, “I understand.” He paused. “You boys scared the living daylights out of me,” he said. “Thank goodness you're okay.”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and the other around Jack's and pulled us toward him, and all the tears I'd been fighting to keep inside came flowing out as I buried my face in his chest. It was over. It was finally over. We were safe.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“
YOU HAVE TO GET GOING
,” Bill said. “Little Bill is waiting for you in his car.”

“Little Bill is here?”

“He was directing the entire operation. He waited on the beach, just beyond the bright lights, until he was certain that the operation had been successful.”

Bill led us along a trail through the forest. It ended at a roadway. There were three large army trucks and two cars parked at the side.

“His is the first car, the larger of the two,” Bill said. “I'll talk to you boys later.”

“You're not coming?” I asked.

“I have matters here that need to be attended to.” He turned and walked back into the forest, leaving Jack and me standing by ourselves.

“You through bawling like a baby?” Jack asked.

I sniffed back my tears.

“You notice you're the only person here who was crying?” Jack asked.

“You notice that I'm the only twelve-year-old here?”

Jack nodded ever so slightly. “How's your head?”

“Still attached to my shoulders … just the way I like it.”

“Let me have a look.” He pulled me over, spun me around and looked at my lump. “Could be worse—they could have hit
me
in the head.”

I tried to pull away, but he held on tight. “Seriously … you okay?”

“I'm okay now.”

“Good. Let's not keep Little Bill waiting any longer.”

We walked over to the first car. It was big—long and black. The windows were dark and I couldn't see inside. Jack knocked gently on the glass. The back door opened slightly and a little light came on inside the vehicle. Jack pulled the door open and I peered in. Little Bill was sitting on the back seat. He was dressed, as always, in a suit.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Fancy meeting you here. Please,” he said, gesturing to the seat beside him.

Jack gave me a little shove to get me moving. I climbed in and took a seat beside Little Bill. Jack sat down beside me. Little Bill leaned forward and tapped on a window that separated us from the driver. The window slid open and a man's face appeared.

“Drive,” Little Bill said. “Please.”

“Yes, sir,” the driver said, and the window slid shut again. The engine came to life and seconds later we started moving.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Bowmanville. I'm driving you home.”

“Oh, it'll be so good to get home … I'm so tired, and we have to get there before seven when our mother wakes up and finds we're not there. She'll be so worried and—”

“We can't get there that quickly,” Little Bill said, “but she won't be worried.”

“Of course she's going to be worried.”

“It's been taken care of. Late last night we had an operative break into your house … although technically he didn't break in since the front door was open. You should lock your doors.”

“But why did you send somebody into our house?” I asked.

“He rumpled your beds to make them look as if they'd been slept in, left dirty cereal bowls and glasses in the sink and a note on the table stating that you'd been taken up to the camp—at the request of Colonel Armstrong—to do some work. She'll never know you weren't there.”

“I guess that'll work,” I said, “but we're still going to be in big trouble.”

Little Bill looked confused.

“We're not supposed to leave the house until our beds are made and the dishes are cleaned up,” Jack explained, and Little Bill laughed.

“Could we ask you a question?” I said. I wanted to ask the same thing Otto had asked Bill.

Little Bill nodded his head. “Certainly.”

“Their plan … the escape … did you know all about it?”

“Not everything, and certainly not the most important thing.”

“What was the most important thing?” I asked.

“We didn't know where the submarine was going to rendezvous with them. We had to let them lead us there, and they did.”

“So you let them get away on purpose?” Jack asked in amazement.

“Yes. Although their plans apparently called for well over three hundred men to escape … that we didn't allow. Within ten minutes of your escape the tunnel was guarded at both ends. A team went into the camp and found the suits, disguises and false identification that had been produced.”

“But … but … how? How did you know about things?” I questioned.

“We were intercepting the messages they sent in their letters. They were communicating using a code called Ireland. A prisoner sends a letter to his wife. It seems like an innocent account of life in the camp. However,
the first letters of all the words, when put together, form the real message. Reading the letters was like reading a progress report on the tunnel.”

“But Otto told us they also sent some messages using the postcards and stamps that we gave them,” I said.

“The stamps and postcards
we
gave to you to give to them. We watched those being mailed and intercepted them as well.”

“Why didn't we know about any of this?” I asked. “Why didn't Bill tell us?”

“Standard practice. We only give operatives the information they need to do their part of the job.”

“What I want to know,” Jack said, “is, if you knew so much about their plans, why didn't you just stop them?”

“Stopping them wouldn't have got us the submarine. We wanted that U-boat. That was the real prize.”

“And you got it.”

“Yes, we did. And we were fortunate that the price wasn't too high.”

“How could it be too high?”

“I was afraid it could cost us your lives,” Little Bill said. “If I had known you had been abducted, I would have stopped them immediately.”

“But you had to know. You were watching the escape, weren't you?”

“My men were—from the trees across the field. All they saw in the dark were four people coming up from
the tunnel. We assumed four prisoners.”

“Didn't your men see them slug me?” I asked.

“That incident was reported. I must admit it confused me. However, we still didn't know who it involved. It wasn't until much later that we started to have our suspicions that you two had been involved.”

“What tipped you off?”

“We had two operatives at the performance. They were guests of Colonel Armstrong.”

“We saw them,” I said, thinking back to the two men in the suits who sat beside the man I thought was the mayor.

“When I spoke to them a few hours after the escape— they were coordinating the capture of the tunnel—they mentioned that you were at the camp. Yet when I checked with our outside observers there was no record of you two having left. Then I thought, if anybody could get themselves entangled in this mess, it would have to be the two of you … and there you were … and here you are now.”

We rode along in silence for a while.

“We almost fouled things up again,” I finally said.

“Again? You never fouled them up before.”

“But we came close both times.”

“You were a part of the team that made things possible. Without you boys, things might have turned out differently. You have been of great service to your
country … once again.” He paused. “And once again, no one can know.”

“Like no one knows what you or the other men at Camp X do.”

“It must remain secret. For us all.”

“I understand,” I said. “The important thing is that
we
know what we did.”

“And that's enough?” Little Bill asked.

“It is for now … and for the next time you need us. We'll be ready.”