We Landed At Dawn; The Story Of The Dieppe Raid by Alexander B. Austin

Author:Alexander B. Austin [Austin, Alexander B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786253132
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Lucknow Books
Published: 2015-11-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT—BEFORE THE BATTLE

AND then, with only a few hours to go, I had to leave the Royals.

It was annoying, but it couldn’t be helped. Canadian war correspondents were to travel with the Dieppe raid force, and it was thought better that one of them, Ross Munro, should be with his own fellow countrymen in the Royals rather than with British Commando troops.

I wasn’t worried about details, because by now I knew my part in the operation thoroughly. The sailing and landing routine for one force is very much like that of any other. Once you have trained in ALC’s you know where to sit and what to do as a non-combatant.

Still, it meant that on the eve of battle I had to make myself known to men I had never met before, and to try hurriedly to fit in with their ways when they were busy with their own last-minute affairs.

When I was told that I should be traveling with Four Commando (British), I did not know just how near the start of the raid was. After waiting several days, sampling the ups and downs of Channel weather, you begin to adopt a resigned “I’ll-believe-in-it-when-it-starts” attitude. And when it does start you are taken almost as much by surprise as if you had had no warning at all.

Climbing up the side of Four Commando’s parent ship, I felt uncomfortably alone. After the quiet friendliness of the Argylls and the quick familiarity of the Royals, these tall men in woolen caps looked strange and aloof. Most of them had been on raids before. I had not the friendly feeling that we were all in the same fix—facing action together for the first time.

The feeling passed very quickly, and when the time came I was thankful for their quiet self-assurance and battle knowledge. For a good many of them raids were by no means their first experience of war. They had been chosen, in the early days, from almost every famous regiment in the British Army. They were from Guards, Highland, Border, Welsh, Irish, North Country, Midland, and South Country battalions.

Meanwhile I hesitated for a moment on the deck, wondering where the troop office or the wardroom lay on this ship. An amused, rather high voice behind me said:

“Ah, the mystery man, I suppose.”

I turned, and met a tallish Commando officer with slightly wavy brown hair, a small Guards mustache, a full, youngish face, and a pleasant, speculative, slightly quizzical smile. He was wearing a woolen cap, an old battle-dress blouse, and a pair of corduroy slacks. He wore no rank badges.

He shook hands, adding, “We’ve been expecting you,” beckoned a younger officer, said, “Take him along and give him some tea,” and left us.

Lieutenant Anderson, the signals officer, led me along to the wardroom. I told him that I knew nobody in Four Commando, and asked the name of the man in corduroy slacks.

“That’s the CO,” he said. “Lord Lovat. You going ashore with us? Good. I think they’ve put you down for my boat—Number 6, but we can show you that later.

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