Shadows of Deceit (32 page)

For me, my days are static, grey and sad – despite trying I can’t shake this mood off. But you still have choices to make, a luxury now unavailable to me – I don’t know what to do, in some ways I don’t care. I’ve no purpose here now.

God bless you Harry,

Darlath.’

Darlath sealed the envelope and posted it from the letter box outside before returning to Andrew’s flat.

With tears streaming down his face he carefully examined the contents of Andrew’s wardrobe to find a dressing gown that he put on. The subtle aroma of his partner was still present within the garment.

Darlath walked around each room of the apartment and closed the curtains before returning to the sitting room. He quickly found Andrew’s favourite gramophone record ‘Bruch’s Violin Concerto Number One’ and set the needle to play the Adagio and the Finale. He then settled down by the fireplace resting his back against a settee and reached for the whisky. He drank deeply of his partner’s liquor.

Later, as planned, he turned the gas fire on but didn’t ignite it…

28
th
February 1943.

After two days being held in Peebles police station Harry was escorted by Sergeant Green onto the train heading south towards Catterick. A space had been reserved for them in the mail cage of the Guards Van. After travelling south for an hour the Guard came in carrying a ‘billy can’ of tea for them,

“There’s the local paper as well if you want a read. Do you both take sugar?”

They both answered “No.”

“Well don’t stir it then!”

He then left them alone.

“Could I look at the headlines?” Harry asked.

Green bent down and retrieved the newspaper from the floor.

Harry couldn’t believe what he read,

‘Ex Police Inspector from the Glasgow Constabulary admits to the mutilation and murder of business man Andrew Kirkland. Police have now formally charged Steven Beecham with the offence. This follows Beecham’s full confession to the crime after a witness, James Cowie, spotted Beecham leaving Kirklands flat in the early hours. James Cowie is the proprietor of the Newsagents situated opposite Kirkland’s residence.

When interviewed, Mr Cowie confirmed that Beecham, who was a regular customer of his, was seen coming out of the flat where he later discovered that a gruesome murder had taken place.

“Here’s your tea Harry.”

“Thanks.”

Harry read the newspaper report again and smiled to himself.

‘Beecham had got what he deserved at last!’

Harry later tried to sleep but the cold of the late afternoon air prevented him.

“Sergeant, I wonder could you pass my mac over, it’s getting a bit chilly in here.”

Green assisted him in pulling the coat around his shoulders.

“There’s something in here Harry, look in the lining.”

Harry ran his fingers down the coat to the bottom seam,

“Can you turn it over for me?”

“There’s something here can you feel it?”

“Yes, that’s strange. Do you mind opening it up a bit?”

Green opened the stitching along the seam and Harry reached inside,

“Bloody hell! It’s a ring, the ring I redeemed from the pawn shop!”

Harry checked the pockets and discovered a small hole, the ring that he thought he’d lost had slipped through into the coat lining.

Harry held it up close to his face and stared at it for a full minute.

“You’ll never believe the trouble this ring has got me into over these past few months!”

Green turned his head, his face showing no emotion,

“For a moment then I thought you were going to propose to me!”

They both roared with laughter as the train continued rattling southwards deeper into England.

March 18
th
1943.

Tears welled up into Harry’s eyes as he finished reading Darlath’s letter. He’d already guessed that Eileen’s lack of response to his enquiries indicated that she was unwilling to return to him. But he was more deeply saddened by Darlath’s message, his outpouring of grief that had probably been written just before he’d taken his own life.

The day before Tommy had sent a message to the garrison Padre asking him to break the news about Darlath to Harry.

July 20th 1943

The door of the Mess hut burst open, “Davies, Harry Davies?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Colonel Atkins wants to see you, follow me.”

Harry dutifully followed and was introduced and left alone with the Colonel.

“Sit down Davies.”

Atkins shook hands and removed his cap.

“You’re lucky not to be still in custody. In the last war many deserters signed on again using a different name and their histories were never tracked down. At least you told us the truth and took your punishment.”

The Colonel read through the file,

“But I see that you did some good things that were reported to the Courts Martial.” The Colonel scanned the pages of Harry’s file,

“In Belgium wasn’t it? - suffice to say we’ll give you another chance Davies.”

“Thank you sir, I’m grateful.”

“Remember this though Davies, your desertion has been forgiven but not forgotten, do you understand?

“Yes sir, I’ve got to stay in line, I mustn’t stray again. But tell me sir, can you provide a little more information on the report on my file about what occurred in Belgium. It was read in detail by the Courts Martial team but was only outlined to me. I didn’t request a full explanation then, especially as the information speeded up my release so to speak!”

The Colonel reviewed the documents,

“I have it here somewhere, yes – ‘after the officers commanding your unit were killed you assumed responsibility and with the remaining men held the defence of Veurne. You also assisted a number of elderly villagers and two pregnant women safely out of the area away from the advancing Germans. Those villagers managed to board a ship to England and one of them, Erik Van den Eeden, a former Mayor of Veurne, wrote to Army H.Q. about your leadership and courage.’

This report greatly assisted the leniency in how you’ve been treated. You could have been given five years hard labour you know?”

“I didn’t know that they had written. I was just giving them a hand – sort of instinct I suppose?”

“Well this ‘leadership’ and integrity is what is needed for this special assignment I want to tell you about. You’re to be seconded from your regiment for some special training. You are to join an airborne division that is an amalgamation of different units.”

“Sir?”

“Look, to get this fucking war finished we’ve got to confront the enemy in northern Europe sooner or later that’s our only choice. There’s a special force being gathered together and you can be part of it. You’ve little choice really, but remember this, you have been
selected
. It’s not because we simply want to dump you into a high risk unit. It’s because of your bravery and stubbornness in holding that position in Belgium and of thinking of others.”

Harry interrupted, “I understand sir. I just want the chance again. I’ll do what is asked.”

August 8
th
1943

Soon afterwards Harry found himself stationed at an airfield near Cirencester, Gloucestershire. Life for him became and endless routine of maintaining fitness and participating as crew members of the new Horsa Gliders that were towed into the air by Halifax aircraft. With their eighty foot wingspan and flimsy wooden construction the gliders appeared unwieldy on the ground but were transformed into silent carriers of men and materials once released from their tow ropes. Daily circuits and bumps were conducted, sometimes at night. About twenty-eight fully equipped airborne troops in each craft rehearsed landing positions and scrambles into the surrounding countryside the moment they became stationary on the ground.

In September the group transferred to Brize Norton in Oxfordshire for further training and briefing. During night flying exercises they circuited the river nearby as they were told that it was not dissimilar to where they would be sent.

At the end of May 1944 they moved to an airfield at Rushton Tarrant in Dorset. After several intensive training days that included runs and re-runs of a film depicting the forthcoming operation Harry and his group were given an afternoon and evening of free time. However they were restricted to the confines of the camp. Communication outside by mail or telephone had ceased and they were therefore isolated on a desolate airfield pock marked by a variety of Nissen huts and hastily constructed offices and billets.

In the evening a ‘NAAFI Social’ was hastily arranged. This amounted to a few glasses of beer, music from gramophone records and a get together with the WAAF’s based at the camp. Whilst the party was well underway Harry strolled outside for a cigarette and met a group of WAAF’s walking towards the canteen. One of them stopped,

“Hello, are you staying here or going back inside?”

“No, I’m going back in. You’ve missed the start of the social I’m afraid.”

“Yes - I - we have been working until now but we thought we’d come up to join in anyway.”

“I haven’t seen you around. Are you new here?”

“Good Lord no. We’ve been locked away in the office these past few days but a new team has taken some shifts for us.”

“It’s all beginning to hot up isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Let’s go in. Can I get you a drink?”

“Thank you yes. That would be nice.”

Inside they found that the dancing was underway,

“It seems as though your friends have found partners.” Harry said.

“Yes, we always try and attend every ‘do’ here. There are never enough girls to go round so us WAAF’s try and make sure all the men have an enjoyable time. You know dancing and a laugh. It’s never too serious; it’s just our effort to make their lives a little more bearable before this new mission begins.”

“Very commendable. Sorry I don’t know your name?”

“Roisin, you’ve probably detected my accent already?”

“And where in Ireland are you from Roisin?”

“Ah you have. Clogher, County Tyrone.”

“Can I ask how long you’ve been over here?”

“It’s about five years now. Clogher is a tiny place and I just needed to find a different sort of job to do. There were more opportunities over here.”

“Did you enlist straight away for the air force?”

“No. I was in London doing secretarial work and a friend of mine I met in the office said she was joining so I decided to follow her. It’s certainly more exciting than my old job. Especially now with all that’s happening.”

“Well I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“What about your name?”

“Sorry Roisin, my names Harry. Harry Davies.”

“Harry Davies. I’ve seen your name on the listing, you’re about to go aren’t you?”

“Yes as soon as we get the order. Where exactly do you work in the camp?”

“It’s the meteorology section; we provide all the weather reports to the Ops. people. That’s where I saw your name listed.”

“Well the sooner we move out the better. I’m getting cabin fever penned inside this place.” Roisin laughed.

“Look, should you be circulating. I don’t want to commandeer all your time?”

Roisin looked around to find that most of the men remaining inside had linked up with the WAAF girls, “No, everyone seems happy; I’m content to stay for a chat if you want me to?”

“Of course. What about another drink?”

“I’ll come with you to the bar.”

They stood and chatted for a while but immediately took to the floor when a recording of Glenn Miller’s ‘Moonlight Serenade’ began.

“You know something Harry, this piece of music is the one that will stay with me all my life. It captures this moment in the war, the people we miss, the longing for a home again, just peace I suppose.”

Harry noticed that she had tears in her eyes.

“Did you have a boyfriend somewhere?”

“Not now. I lost contact with him two years ago. He’s still alive somewhere but it’s likely he’s found closer comforts.”

She smiled, trying to hide her emotion.

“Come on lets go outside again.”

White clouds slipping silently across the sky revealed a velvet blue canopy interspersed with stars,

“What about you Harry, do you have someone to come home to?

“No, like you I’ve lost contact with someone.”

“Was she special?”

“She was at the time, but not now, things have moved along.”

“Harry can I say something to you?”

“Please, yes, go on.”

“This mission you’re about to go on, I’ve been totally involved in a great deal of the planning for it and I’ve seen so many names of the men that will be taking part passing through here. But I feel that I want to personalize this operation somehow, so that I can follow someone and with God’s will welcome them back. Does that make sense to you?”