Roses of Winter (8 page)

“She was very nice tae me, Betty,” Ella insisted. “Ah’ll allow, ah wisnae expecting tae see her face up here but we had a nice long talk. An’ look at whit she brought an aw.” She held up the tablecloth. Seeing the look of disbelief on Betty’s face, Ella said, “Ah know, ye could have knocked me over wi’ a feather.”
 

Betty leaned forward expectantly. “So whit is she like, Ella? Ah want the whole story.”
 

“Well, the way she talks, at first ye think she’s that stuck up, but it’s no’ that at aw.”
 

Betty dismissed this notion with a wave of her hand. “Aw c’mon, she’s that pan loaf an’ Kelvinside. What is anybody like that daeing around here?”
 

Ella nodded. “Ah’ll grant ye, she sounds it right enough, but she’s no’ like that when ye get tae know her. Ah’ve telt ye afore, there’s a story aboot that wumman but ah don’t know whit it is.”
 

“Well you just be sure ye find it out, Ella McLennan,” said Betty whose curiosity about other people’s business was well known in the close. But Ella, surprised at her own reaction, felt protective of her new friend and held her peace. As they sat over their teas, though, Ella had to admit that she would very much like to know more about what had brought someone like Bessie to 2005 Dumbarton Road. She was determined one way or the other to learn it all.

Chapter 3

Beached

Dunkirk, May 1940

The
Jasper
had left Poole astern and was working her way up the English Channel in a heavy sea that made her pitch and roll.
 
She was a ship of modest size, barely 700 tons, with the superstructure and bridge aft. The single mast sat amidships between the cargo holds, each with its own derrick. The
Jasper
was just one of the many coastal vessels that plied the shores of Britain distributing the vital cargoes brought over by the Atlantic convoys.

On this trip the
Jasper
was carrying cased petroleum, an unpopular and extremely dangerous cargo. Her holds were packed with full petrol cans for the motor transport of the British army in France. In heavy seas, the cans might grind together and rupture; a spark was all that was required for disaster.
 

Charlie Burns was taking a welcome break from the heat and noise of the engine room. He sat back on the bench seat of their small mess area, a mug of strong tea in one hand and a week-old newspaper in the other, folded back to make it manageable. Across the table sat a stocky man of less than average height, with powerful shoulders and arms. Despite his size he looked like one to treat respectfully in a dockside bar, if you knew what was good for you. Harry Campbell, a capable, quiet man from Inveraray, was looking at the back of Charlie’s newspaper.
 

“So whit dae ye think is gaun on, Cherlie?” he asked. “They’ve been very quiet aboot this whole trip.”
 

“Ah, well,” Charlie said cautiously, “they never say much do thae?” He paused before continuing. “The fact is, Harry, ah don’t know ony mer than you dae. But ah will say this, ah think we’re headed for France.”
 

“Why dae ye think that?”
 

“Well, look at whit we’re carrying for wan thing. Who’s gaun tae need that? An’ we’ve just left Poole an’ we’re heading up the Channel. Where else wid it be but France?”

The British Expeditionary Force had gone over at the end of the previous year to mount a defense with the French against an expected invasion by Germany. For months nothing had happened. This changed dramatically on May 10 when the Germans began a concerted attack that would see them sweep through Belgium and Holland and, unexpectedly, through the Ardennes, to catch the Allies in the jaws of a great pincer. The force of the assault had come as an unpleasant shock. Now, two weeks later, the situation was deteriorating rapidly.
 

The
Jasper
stayed close to the coast until almost at Dover before heading out into the English Channel. Among the seamen speculation was rife. With better knowledge of the situation in France they could have quickly eliminated Boulogne, which was just then falling into German hands. Calais and Dunkirk were under attack and the noose was tightening on an increasingly smaller area of the French coast.

Later, when Harry climbed down into the engine room to stand his watch, he told Charlie that the majority opinion among the deck hands was that they were headed for Dunkirk.
 
“We've turned eastward away from Calais,” Harry said.
 

“Aye, that seems tae settle it,” Charlie agreed. “Ah wonder whit kind o’ welcome we can expect?” They received an answer to that question a short time later. Charlie had come up on deck to get some air and have a quiet smoke. He was thinking about his family back in Maryhill when he was jolted out of his reverie by the sound of alarm bells. The ship vibrated under his feet as the engine room put on whatever extra speed it could muster and the ship began to alter course randomly. Charlie scanned the sky and quickly spotted aircraft speeding towards the ship. Fascinated, he stayed on deck, knowing he wouldn’t be any safer below.
 

The planes were closing fast. Their silhouettes reminded Charlie of the sea birds he had seen as a boy when he roamed the harbor at Fraserburgh. They were diving at the ship now, a loud shrieking noise preceding them. Charlie was frozen in place. He had a sudden image of Mary at their door, unsuspecting, confronting the telegram boy.
Ach, ah hiv too active an imagination
, he thought.
It’s funny whit runs through yer heid in a situation like this.
 

Bombs left the leading plane. They screamed overhead to burst in the sea some distance from the ship. The Jasper lurched as the helm was thrown over to starboard. Charlie had always thought,
my mind disnae work like other folks’
. For now, unbidden, came a strange thought,
whit a story tae tell them when ah get back
. He was enjoying the novelty of the experience. Just as quickly he dismissed the idea, questioning the quirkiness of his own mind. But in a way he couldn’t explain even to himself, he found the attack exhilarating. Charlie felt quite detached, far from the conventional emotions that people expect you to have in such situations. He simply couldn’t believe there was a German bomb made that could hurt him. Charlie also knew that he could never tell the part of the story that involved his inner thoughts for fear of others questioning his sanity.

The next pilot had better estimated the course of the ship. His bombs exploded off the starboard side, throwing a mountain of water over the
Jasper
.
 
Soaked through, too surprised to give the matter any thought, Charlie yelled at the plane. “Ye cheeky German bastard ye!” Then he felt silly and looked around to see if anyone had heard. When the third German dropped his bombs well astern it seemed anticlimactic. The planes retreated. For the moment the skies were quiet. Charlie knew their respite wouldn’t last. They would be lucky to get in and out of Dunkirk in one piece.

On the bridge, Captain Patrick Tierney turned to his first officer, John Stokes. “I think we can expect more trouble after what we’ve just seen.”
 

Stokes nodded. “The approach to Dunkirk is interesting enough as it is without the Germans getting in on the show. We’ll be a sitting duck once we’re in the main channel.”

“You’re right there,” the captain agreed. “Have the fire fighting parties stand ready.”
 

When John left, Tierney scanned the sea ahead of the ship. They were within sight of Dunkirk. As he looked at the port city through his glasses he stiffened, trying for a better view, not sure of what he had seen. He leaned his elbows on the bridge rail to steady the binoculars and looked again. The city was under attack from the air. Bombs burst in the harbor area, each throwing up a brief flash followed by billowing smoke.
 

It was not long before a small boat came alongside. The pilot, a short, wiry man with a finely chiseled, handsome face, climbed the ladder. Entering the bridge, he greeted both officers in excellent, if accented, English, introducing himself as Jean Langlois. “Welcome to Dunkirk,” he said ironically, one eyebrow raised.
 

“Quite a reception you’ve laid on for us,” the captain returned in kind, smiling.

The pilot shrugged. “We do our best, Capitaine.” The man looked weary. Though outwardly calm, there was a nervous edge to his humor.
 

Under the pilot’s instructions Stokes rang the telegraph to SLOW for the
Jasper’s
approach to the main channel. Tierney watched with respect as the pilot, relaying instructions to the helmsman, expertly guided
Jasper
between the shallows bordering the channel. The Germans, to Tierney’s surprise, stayed away. The planes had vanished. An ominous lull settled upon the city, overlain with smoke from countless fires.

The
Jasper
eased towards its berth. John rang down FINISHED WITH ENGINES. “Well, I wasn’t expecting such an uneventful docking,” he said to the captain.”
 

Tierney shrugged. “We just got lucky. But if you're looking for excitement I don’t think you will be disappointed. They won’t stay away for long.” Stokes went off to organize the unloading of the cargo. The captain sent word for Charlie.

Charlie found a preoccupied Tierney looking out at the ravaged city of Dunkirk. “Ye wanted tae see me, Captain?”

“Yes, Chief,” Tierney said, turning to face him. “I want you to make sure this ship is ready to leave at short notice. We might want to get out of here in a hurry.”
 

“Aye, ah see whit ye mean right enough,” Charlie said, looking around. “Ah’ll see tae it, Captain,” Charlie said.

“Thanks, I know I can rely on you and your men.” He nodded and turned back to look at the docks.

During their tea break, Charlie and Harry discussed the captain’s character. “He’s a real decent man, Tierney,” Charlie observed. “No’ like some o’ the nasty buggers ah’ve seen.”

“Well, he’s a Glesca man, isn’t he?” Harry said.

Charlie snorted scornfully. “Some o’ the worst bastards I’ve known were Glesca men. It’s no’ where they come frae, it’s who they are themsels’ that matters.”
 

“Aye, ah suppose yer right,” Harry replied. “Ah wonder how lang this war will last? It doesnae seem tae be going that well for us at the moment.”
 

“Well, it’ll no’ be ony shorter than the last yin, mark mah words. An’ it always the ordinary workingman that get’s the worst o’ it. It wid be a lot shorter if aw thae toffy nosed gets in the government had tae go fight it.”
 

Harry sighed. Charlie was on his soapbox again. “Surely ye’re no’ saying we shouldnae fight Hitler. Ye canny let him rampage aboot Europe an’ no’ dae onything aboot it.”
 

“Ah know that,” Charlie replied sharply. “It’s aw this King an’ country rubbish that gets me. They tried tae sell us that line in the last war. When the war was ower, whit did the sodgers came back tae? A land fit for heroes? It’ll be the same efter this war is ower as well. When they don’t need ye they dinnae want tae know ye.”

Harry had to agree with him. His own father had come back to hard work and low pay
when
he could find work. “Wis your faither in the war?”
 

“Naw,” Charlie replied. “He was a carter up aroon Fraserburgh and he was no’ that young when it started. Charlie shook his head at a memory that had come to him about his father. “Ah remember wance ah told him whit ah wanted tae be when ah grew up.”
 

“Whit wis that, Cherlie”
 

“Ah told him ah wanted tae be a doctor. He jist laughed at me. ‘Ye’re a certer’s loon,’ he told me. ‘It’s no’ the likes o’ us that become doctors.’ Ah wisnae auld enough tae understand yet, ye see. But ah still canny see why it is that if ye hae the brains tae do it they willnae allow it jist fer the want o’ money. It’s no’ right, Harry. Ach well there’s nae point in gaun on aboot that. Ah’m away tae mah bunk. Gie’s a shout when it’s mah turn.”
 
Harry sat a moment longer and went back down to the engine room.

By noon of the next day, the unloading was coming to an end. They had heard sirens and explosions off and on throughout the morning. Thick dark smoke from burning oil tanks rose high over the harbor. The fires flared up in great licks of flame, subsided briefly, only to rise again the next instant.
 

Charlie was taking the chance to grab a quick bite. As soon as the unloading was complete they would be making a swift departure. He was finishing the last of his tea when a rumbling explosion shook the ship. Before Charlie could think or react, more explosions crashed on his ears, each closer than the last. Bells sounded throughout the ship.
 

Charlie reached the engine room as the telegraph rang around to STANDBY. Charlie swung the handle to acknowledge the command. “Jump tae it lads, it looks like we’ll be leaving sooner than we thought.” They felt, as much as heard, the sound of heavy explosions rattling through the plates of the hull.

“Christ, that wis close,” Tam McBain muttered.

“Never mind that Tam, we’re getting out of here,” Charlie said. The telegraph clanged out SLOW ASTERN.
 
Quickly answering the bridge command, Charlie ordered Harry to get them moving.