Unintended Consequences (Jack Turner Suspense Series Book 3) Page 4

  Elliot – 1921 – 3 yrs old.

  It was a picture of Jack’s brother, his twin brother. Until two weeks ago, a brother Jack never knew he had.

  7

  Two days later, as the captain had predicted, they arrived at the bustling seaport of Southampton, shortly before noon. Jack had never seen a more active harbor. Ships of all sizes and shapes; some tied up, others being eased into their slot by tugboats. And just as many still out in the water, coming or going. Military and merchant vessels in equal number.

  Like the rest of the Americans, Jack was totally ready to get off the ship. It was so nice to finally walk on solid ground, although every time he stopped suddenly or moved his head too fast, it felt like the ground was still moving.

  “Okay everybody,” Ozzie said. “Stay close together as we walk. With this crowd, if we lose you, you’ll stay lost.”

  As things typically go when a group of guys hangs out together, one of them starts to function as the leader. Ozzie had assumed that spot. No one seemed to mind, least of all Jack. When this started becoming evident back on the ship, Joe had taken Jack aside, thought he should speak up more, maybe vie for the role. Jack had other, bigger things in mind for his time here in England. Ozzie could take the lead.

  Jack still hadn’t told Joe why he had really come here to England.

  “It’ll be so nice not to have to eat that crap food on the ship anymore,” Joe said. “I wasn’t sure I could swallow another bite. As soon as we get off this dock, what say we find a nice English pub and grab some lunch?”

  Most of the guys agreed with Joe. Jack didn’t answer, just kept moving along with the group.

  “Don’t get your heart set on anything fancy,” Ozzie said. “England’s known for a lot of things. Great food isn’t one of them. And that’s in the best of times. Now they’re on war rations.”

  “I heard they put everything in a pie,” one of the guys said.

  “Pie sounds good,” Joe said.

  “This ain’t your grandma’s apple pie.”

  “I know. More like chicken pot pie, right? I’m okay with that.”

  “You’ll be lucky to find any with chicken in it. More like meat pies. And who knows what kind of meat you’re getting?”

  “Whatever it is,” Joe said, “it’s gotta be better than what we’ve been getting since we left the U.S.”

  Jack wasn’t hungry. He’d been fighting a head cold since he woke up this morning. But he probably should eat, since he’d skipped breakfast. He was more interested in finding someplace warm, maybe a pub with a fireplace or at least a decent heater.

  “How come there wasn’t anyone there to meet us as we got off the ship?” Seth said. “Aren’t they’re expecting us? We’re here helping them out.”

  “What’d you expect?”

  “I don’t know. Thought there might be at least someone standing there by the gangway holding a sign.”

  “They’re expecting us in a general way,” Ozzie said. “They know we’re coming. But it’s not like we’re getting some red carpet treatment. We’re not celebrities. We came here to fight Nazi’s.”

  “And fly Spitfires,” Joe said.

  “Then how are we supposed to connect with Colonel Sweeney?” Seth said.

  “One of his aides gave me a phone number,” Ozzie said. “I’m supposed to find a phone booth and call it when we arrive. I think he’s supposed to be in London. I figured I’d call after we get something to eat.”

  They continued their trek for several minutes, turning right at one point on Canute Road. Ozzie stopped to ask directions to the closest pub from a British sailor with a friendly face. He was friendly enough, but no one understood a word he said. They walked in the direction he pointed until they reached a three-story building on a street corner, called the Canute Castle Hotel. The front door was around the corner on the cross street. Once inside, it was apparent they’d finally found a pub with enough room to accommodate them all.

  After all that walking, Jack was actually starting to feel a little hungry.

  Forty-five minutes later, everyone had eaten until their bellies were full. At least they had plenty of cash to hold them over. Colonel Sweeney had taken care of that, at least. Jack just hoped everything he ate would stay down long enough to digest. The sense of motion had begun to calm some, but he still felt a little queasy.

  One thing all the men acknowledged, something very different from what they’d expected on their first visit to a British pub—the overall atmosphere. It was anything but festive and lighthearted. A radio on a shelf behind the counter had been left on to catch any BBC news updates. Most of the news the patrons had been hearing wasn’t good.

  Not just today but for the last several weeks.

  Seth had heard a middle-aged British man in the booth behind them talking. He’d gotten up to use the restroom—what the Brits called the loo—and on the way back, stopped briefly and stood next to the man. “Excuse me, sir. My friends and I are Americans. We actually just got off a boat a little while ago. We’re all pilots. We came here to fly for the RAF, to help you guys fight the Nazis.”

  The man turned in his seat to face Seth. “I thought you fellows might be Yanks. I was telling my friend that not two seconds ago. Does your presence ‘ere mean the U.S. is finally getting into this bloody war? Roosevelt change his mind?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. We’re here on our own. In fact, we had to sneak over by way of Canada. If we got caught, we’d all be sent to prison.”

  “How terrible.” He sighed. “What is wrong with Roosevelt? What’s it going to take for him to come in on our side?”

  “I don’t know, sir. But I was just wondering. We haven’t had too much news this past week, being out on the ship the whole time. Could you share with us what’s been going on? Here and over in France? We’ve been hearing things are pretty bad.” Seth sat back on the last seat facing the aisle.

  “Bad is not the word,” the man said. “But sure, I’ll fill you in.” He picked up his pint, half-empty, then slid an empty chair from a nearby table and turned it around so he faced the group. His friend came over and did the same.

  Ozzie noticed their glasses and got the bartender’s attention. When he came over, Ozzie said, “Could you bring another round for everyone, including our two friends here?”

  “I can,” the bartender said. “I’m assuming you have enough money with you to cover all this?”

  Ozzie motioned for the man to come close and showed him a big wad of British pounds from his inside coat pocket.

  The bartender got a big smile. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  “Well, that’s very kind of you,” the first British man said.

  “The least I could do,” Ozzie said. “So please, tell us what’s been going on?”

  The man’s smile disappeared. He leaned forward. “The Germans have Holland, Luxembourg and Belgium now. They’re all under Nazi control. Everyone is saying, France will fall any day. It’s a foregone conclusion. All our troops are retreating to the coast near the English Channel. Near Dunkirk and Calais. I fought in the first War. I know the region quite well. From everything I can gather, our boys are surrounded.”

  “What about the RAF?” Joe asked. “Aren’t they over there taking out the Luftwaffe?”

  “Apparently not,” the first man said. “I’m not sure what’s ‘appening there. From what we hear, it seems like the Luftwaffe is overwhelmin’ the situation in the air. Most of our fighter planes aren’t even over there. They’ve been kept ‘ere to defend the ‘omeland.”

  Jack knew that meant France was finished. If the Brits were keeping their best planes in England, and no longer using them to save France, then they had already decided France cannot be saved.

  “I don’t understand something,” Ozzie said. “You said all the British troops were retreating to the coast and the Germans have them surrounded. And there aren’t any RAF planes to support them. What’s to keep them from being totally wiped
out?”

  Both British men looked at each other, grave expressions on their face. “We’re not totally sure,” the first man said. He leaned even further forward and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Nothin’ official has been announced. But I think something big is being planned. Word ‘round the docks is, Churchill’s asking for every privately owned boat of any size—long as it can cross the Channel—to be ready on a moment’s notice to leave.”

  “They’re going to evacuate the troops?” Seth said. “All of them? There must be several hundred thousand men, at least?”

  “Not to mention all the equipment,” Ozzie added. “The tanks, trucks and jeeps. And all the artillery?”

  “I dunno,” the man said. “I’m just tellin’ you what I’ve ‘eard.”

  No one said anything more for a few moments. The weight of the news settled on everyone’s soul like a blanket of fog.

  Jack’s mood had already been in this condition for weeks, ever since finding out the news about his brother. Now, he’d sunk even further. What had he gotten himself into by coming here? How would he ever locate his brother and get answers to all the questions racking his brain…in a country that was on the verge of falling completely apart?

  8

  Dainville, a village near Arras, France

  1pm, May 21st, 1940

  Renée sat huddled next to her mother in the cellar of their home, terrified. The far off explosions she had begun to hear earlier that morning were now just south of town. So close, many of them caused the windows to rattle. Several times, bits of plaster had fallen from the ceiling.

  “Where is Philippe?” Mother cried. “He should be here with us.” Her shawl was wrapped tightly around her head and shoulders.

  Philippe was Renée’s brother. She was nineteen; he had just turned seventeen. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s with his friends in Arras.” But Renée wasn’t sure at all. Ever since war had been declared eight months ago, Philippe had begged their mother to let him join the fight. She had refused. Since their father had died last year, Philippe was the man of the house. With her being so unwell, she needed his help here at home more than ever. Besides, he was still a boy, too young to be a soldier.

  “Which is it?” Philippe had replied angrily. “I cannot be both—the man of the house and still just a boy.”

  It didn’t matter what Philippe had said or how often. Mother would never agree to let him join the military. The thought of losing him was more than she could bear. Renée wondered where he was right now. She hoped he had enough sense to run away from the danger rather than toward it.

  “You’re shivering, Mother. Are you cold?” Renée had been able to grab a blanket from the closet before they’d fled downstairs. They were sharing it.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just fear.”

  Renée took off her half of the blanket. “Take this.”

  “No, keep it on.”

  “But you need it more than me.”

  “I’m fine the way it is.”

  Just then another explosion, the loudest one yet. The entire basement rumbled. A loud crash. A wall shelf collapsed, sending pots and kitchen utensils to the floor. They screamed.

  Renée scrunched closer to her mom. “We’re okay. It didn’t hit the house.” She wondered if these bombs were Germans or British. British forces had occupied the area around Arras for the last several months. That’s how she had met Elliot, a young officer she had started to date. She hoped he was alright. He was stationed on a makeshift air base just north of Arras. The opposite side of town from the explosions. He wasn’t a pilot, but an intelligence officer. That’s what he’d said, why she didn’t have to worry. His job rarely brought him to the front lines in the heat of battle.

  For months, until now, the battle had stayed far away.

  Elliot was supposed to join them for lunch today. Renée knew that wouldn’t happen once she saw the flurry of activity around town a few hours ago. Dozens of British tanks and lorries filled with soldiers had driven by outside their house, heading south. Townspeople were told to take cover in their homes and stay off the streets. The Germans were on their way here.

  Just then they both heard a low, sputtering, mechanical sound outside. Very close. She got up to check, tucking her part of the blanket under Mother’s legs.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I want to see what that is. I’ll be right back.” God, she prayed, whatever it is let it be British. She walked across the cellar toward the only window with a view out front. It was about two feet wide and a foot tall. She had to step on an overturned metal tub to see clearly.

  More explosions. She grabbed the wall to steady herself.

  “Renée, come back. You need to get away from the window.”

  “Those were further away, Mother. See? The window barely rattled.” She looked out the window again, in time to see the back end of a British tank driving by, away from the direction of the fighting. Black smoke trailed behind it.

  “What do you see?” Mother asked.

  “No Germans yet,” Renée said. “I wish I could talk to Elliot. He could tell us what’s going on.” The phone lines had stopped working just after breakfast.

  “He’s been telling us to expect this for several days,” Mother said. “I was hoping he was just being cautious.”

  Renée knew that he wasn’t. He had told her much more when they were alone than what he shared in Mother’s presence. He knew her heart couldn’t take the strain if he had told her the truth. At dinner two nights ago, Elliot talked about how much ground Hitler’s forces had gained so far. Mother had said although the Germans seemed to be winning now, it wouldn’t be long before Elliot’s troops and the French army stopped their advance. Then things would quiet down for a while, like they did in the last war. She just hoped that when that happened, the front lines would be set much further away from Arras than they had been last time.

  Elliot had responded to this carefully and respectfully, saying he couldn’t go into the details but, he assured her, this wasn’t going to be like last time. He insisted they should keep some bags packed and be prepared to evacuate their home on short notice. He wasn’t sure when, but he didn’t think it would be much longer.

  Renée realized, that day was already here.

  Thirty minutes later, Renée heard someone pounding on the front door. At first, she wasn’t sure if it was just rumbling from an explosion. But it continued. “I better go see who it is.” She stood and walked to the cellar stairs.

  “What if it’s the Germans?” Mother said.

  What if it was, what would she do?

  “Maybe you should ignore it. See if they’ll go away.”

  Someone was yelling, calling her name. “It’s Elliot, Mother. Elliot,” she shouted, “I’m coming.”

  She ran up the cellar stairs, through the winding hallway and past the stairway that led to the second floor. The foyer and front door were just ahead.

  He pounded on the door again. “Renée, it’s me, Elliot. Please open the door.”

  He must not have heard her calling from the stairs. “I’m coming.” She fumbled with the lock and finally got it open. When the door open, he rushed inside and they embraced.

  “When you didn’t answer, I was afraid the Germans had already come.”

  “Are they that close?”

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t think they were, but it won’t be long now.” He took a deep breath. “I’m so glad you’re all right. Are your mother and Philippe here? Are your bags packed? We have to leave very soon. We really should leave now.”

  She took him by the hand and walked him into the parlor. They sat on the edge of the sofa. “Mother is here. She’s downstairs. But Philippe is not. He went into Arras this morning to see one of his friends. I hope he’s okay.”

  “He should be fine, for now. I just came through it. None of the bombs have reached there yet.”

  “Yet? Do you think they will?”

  “Renée, it’s h
appening. Right now. Just like I told you. The Germans have broken through all our defenses. The French army is in full retreat. Our troops are making a stand south of town. That’s all the explosions you’re hearing. A major battle is about to happen.”

  “It’s about to get worse?”

  “Much worse. That’s why we have to leave. Now. This battle south of town is just buying us time. Nothing will come of it. France is lost. Our own forces are in danger of annihilation. The Germans have already swept through and taken everything south of here, all the way to the Channel. We’ve been urging General Gort to order all our remaining troops to the coast. To Dunkirk and Calais.”

  “The British are leaving France?” Renée could not believe what Elliot was saying.

  “We have to, Renée. We’re surrounded. Even if we manage somehow to get everyone to the coast, there’s no way to get them all across the Channel. I’ve been ordered to return to London. My plane leaves in two hours.”

  Renée felt a panic coming over her.

  “I want all of you on that plane with me. It’s a small one, but I’ve secured three seats…for you, your mother and Philippe. Each of you can carry one small bag. But we have to leave now.”

  “Hello, Elliot.”

  They looked up and saw Mother standing in the hallway. She looked so frail and weak. But Renée saw a different look in her eyes.

  “I heard much of what you said, Elliot. I’m grateful for all you’ve done to try and help us. But I can’t leave with you. I’m afraid I would not survive such a trip. And besides, Philippe isn’t here. I couldn’t possibly leave him here alone. But I would be very grateful if you would take my daughter away from here. If the Germans are really coming…I don’t want her anywhere near this place.”

  9

  Renée left the couch and hurried to her mother’s side and helped her walk into the living room. “Mother, I can’t leave you here. Who will take care of you?”