Lessons from Malta

By Malcolm Lloyd Dubber

This is a story of a romance between a Royal Navy officer and a Red Cross nurse caught up in D-Day and the battles that follow up to the Battle of the Bulge in the Ardennes and Holland. The naval officer commands fast coastal patrol boats (MTBs) and main function is to deceive German defence plans at D-Day and later intelligence work on finding V1 and V2 weapons sites. He spends some of his leave with his uncle who owns a farm near Newhaven and a few miles from his MTB depot. The nurse becomes emotionally involved with an American Army Medical doctor while her naval officer husband is wrapped up in clandestine intelligence operations and is reported “Missing in Action”. He is eventually gets entangled with preventing the SS / Gestapo attempts to abduct or kill escaping refugees from Holland to Britain; they are V-weapon scientists and engineers. The American Army Medical Officer becomes a casualty and requires specialist care / treatment. He joins the escaping refugee party and is safely shipped back to the USA. She is torn with emotions for her husband who has not written to her and the American Army Doctor. Her husband is finally reunited with her, where he reveals that he is to be posted to Malta where they both met originally and aim to go back to. This seals their relationship and love for each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Nov 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781728376721

Malcolm Lloyd Dubber

Malcolm is a consultant in emergency planning, explosives chemistry, nuclear safety and CBRN. He has ventured into novels based on his experiences of real events. He has lectured at the Cabinet Office’s Emergency Planning College (EPC), Easingwold, and international conferences, such as the International Disaster & Emergency Resilience (IDER) conference. He is an active member of the Welsh branch of the Emergency Planning Society.

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1     Assignment

Chapter 2     Goodbye Neath

Chapter 3     Ramsgate

Chapter 4     Denton Island

Chapter 5     US Army Doctor

Chapter 6     First Encounter

Chapter 7     No Tears

Chapter 8     The American Date

Chapter 9     Deception On D-Day

Chapter 10   Engage!

Chapter 11   D-Day

Chapter 12   Enemy Coast

Chapter 13   Good News

Chapter 14   Rest Before The Storm

Chapter 15   New Danger

Chapter 16   Dieppe And A Change Of Plan

Chapter 17   Trying Times

Chapter 18   Forward Casualty Receiving Station

Chapter 19   Letters

Chapter 20   Casualties

Chapter 21   Return To Duty

Chapter 22   Walcherin

Chapter 23   V2s

Chapter 24   The Railwayman

Chapter 25   Blackwell’s Successful Mission

Chapter 26   Where Is Ewan?

Chapter 27   Panzers

Chapter 28   Revelation

Chapter 29   Winter Beckons

Chapter 30   Hypothermia

Chapter 31   Calm Before The Storm

Chapter 32   Reunited

Chapter 33   New Threat

Chapter 34   The Battle Of The Bulge

Chapter 35   The Naval Officer

Chapter 36   Time To Go

Chapter 37   More Casualties

Chapter 38   The American Venture

Chapter 39   Refugees At Sea

Chapter 40   Blood And Mud

Chapter 41   Freedom

Chapter 42   Hazel’s Secret

Chapter 43   At Sea

Chapter 44   Woman’s Intuition

Chapter 45   Rough Crossing

Chapter 46   Close Encounter

Chapter 47   Engage!

Chapter 48   Cross-Examination

Chapter 49   We’ll Meet Again

Chapter 50   The Reception

Chapter 51   Hospital Train

Chapter 52   Admiralty

Chapter 53   Gibraltar To Malta

About The Author

1

ASSIGNMENT

Neath in South Wales was a coal-mining town in 1944 with large associated railway sidings and on the mainline from Swansea to Cardiff. The last days of April, just after Easter, saw the weather change from fine warm sunshine and gentle breezes from the coast to typical British weather—overcast, dull grey, and wet. The Allied planners for the invasion of Europe, the so-called second front, were now faced with these sudden changes in weather conditions coming into the British Isles from the Atlantic; almost every day now was wet and cold, and the forecast was not encouraging. By contrast, the weather in Italy had improved greatly, and here American and British forces were making steady progress after breaking past Monte Casino and the poor winter weather. This was, in effect, the second front, but the Russians, that is, Joseph Stalin, did not recognise this. It was set against this background that the date for the invasion was fast approaching, and all support military and naval units, many of which were still in training, were now being switched into direct support, especially the preparation phase. One area of special concern was the German coastal vessels and the mines laid by them. Minesweepers were now busy clearing vast swaths of the English Channel and southern parts of the North Sea. The minesweepers needed protection from marauding fast German E-boats—the equivalent of the Royal Navy’s motor torpedo boats, colloquially referred to as MTBs. There were also motor gunboats (MGB), which were more heavily armed and included 20 mm Oerlikon and 40 mm Bofors guns and depth charges in place of torpedoes. MGBs were often employed as MTB flotilla leaders. In addition, there were the rescue motor launches (RML), which were like the RAF air-sea rescue high-speed launches—they were slower but more heavily armed. All these different design roles of boats, including Allied and German, suffered one major weakness: they lacked armour and were vulnerable to attack by relatively light weaponry. They mainly relied on their speed and manoeuvrability.

It was set against the requirement to protect minesweepers and gather coastal intelligence that Lieutenant Ewan Jones was summoned to a meeting in Admiral Leven’s office in Swansea. Ewan guessed that the meeting was to review the progress of training of the MTB crews, which he had been put in charge of in late 1943. He had been transferred from Malta to the new training centre set up in Swansea, South Wales. Admiral Leven had been kept up-to-date with training progress reports and was satisfied that the MTB crews were ready to be transferred to their Operation Neptune support harbours. The Admiral’s meeting involved more than the simple transfer, as Ewan was about to find out. Ewan had also gleaned enough rumour that there was another operation. He was right—it was Operation Fortitude.

‘Ewan, you’ve done an excellent job here, and now it’s going to be put to the test. Moreover, you are going to be the core. It’s a straightforward transfer but with a twist,’ said Admiral Leven and paused, looking away from Ewan. ‘I have a couple of gentlemen coming along shortly. In fact, they should be here now. They will explain.’ The Admiral gave a wry smile.

Ewan’s heart fell. The tone in the Admiral’s voice meant only one thing to Ewan: naval intelligence was involved. ‘Naval Intelligence, sir?’

‘Er, yes,’ replied the Admiral. ‘There is a bright side. You are being promoted to Acting Lieutenant Commander. It will be confirmed shortly.

The Admiral’s office door opened.

In strode two men, both in civilian clothes. Ewan recognised both. His heart made a slight leap of relief as Commander Alec Gratton shook his hand. ‘Ewan, glad to meet with you again.’

He turned to the other man. Ewan’s momentary elation collapsed. It was Blackwell. ‘And also I’m glad to meet you again,’ said Blackwell.

‘So what is MI6 cooking up this time?’ asked Ewan.

‘They told me you knew each other,’ said Admiral Leven.

The word ‘they’ rattled with Ewan. It was clear to him that he had been specially selected for something clandestine. ‘I hope this is nothing like the Malta and North African desert job?’

‘No. It’s actually straightforward,’ said Gratton.

The term ‘straightforward’ had been used twice in less than five minutes, and Ewan was now on his guard. If they wanted him to do something dodgy, he would have to assure Hazel, his wife, that it was a ‘straightforward’ posting.

‘What do you know about Operation Fortitude?’ asked Gratton.

Ewan gave a guarded reply. ‘Am I not supposed to know?’

‘In one sense, no; you’re right. But on the other hand, yes,’ said Blackwell.

Ewan was confused. ‘I don’t follow, and I suppose I’ll regret asking what it is.’

Blackwell smirked and turned to Gratton. Admiral Leven turned from looking out of his office window to face the others.

‘Operation Fortitude is a deception to fool Hitler and his mob into believing that the invasion will take place around the Pas de Calais and north along the coast to Dunkirk. You are to command a flotilla of MTBs to cover the minesweepers, backup the RAF air-sea rescue boats, and generally put the shore batteries on continual alert.’ Gratton made it sound as though it was routine. This was the intention. ‘Ewan. Any questions?’

‘Who do I report to and where?’

‘Commodore Selby. He’s the senior naval officer of Coastal Defences and is based in Ramsgate. He will give you your final briefing, which will also include the latest information we have on the coastal defences, etcetera. Anything else?’ said Admiral Leven.

‘Just one thing. Where will my flotilla be based?’

‘Newhaven,’ said Gratton. ‘Some way from Ramsgate, but it’s an important port. It’s also one of the embarkation ports for Operation Neptune.’

‘So if Newhaven is part of Fortitude and Neptune, then the main invasion is Normandy. Am I right?’ said Ewan.

‘Yes. And soon. End of May or thereabouts,’ said Admiral Leven.

Gratton nudged in. ‘Ewan, about Newhaven. I understand you already knew that you would be based in Newhaven. So will that mean you will lodge with your uncle Richard?’

‘Not much gets passed you, does it?’ said Ewan and grinned.

‘Hm. Actually it’s a good idea. Our operation is to give the impression of secrecy but at the same time to reveal enough to point away from Normandy. Newhaven is close enough to Normandy so that you can provide additional cover if it’s needed yet at the same time keep the deception going,’ said Gratton.

‘We have intelligence that the Kriegsmarine are planning submarine attacks on the invasion fleet once it is identified. Could even be some sort of minisub. Whether it’s E-boats or U-boats, you will be there to mess them up,’ said Blackwell.

2

GOODBYE NEATH

A steam-engine whistle squealed a shrill through the damp mist that enshrouded the Neath Valley, as VAD Senior Nurse Hazel Jones walked slowly up the rising road from the railway station. It was about a twenty-minute walk from the VAD Hospital to where she was living; the walk took her past Neath Railway Station. Ewan and Hazel were staying with Ewan’s mother and father, since they returned from Malta. Ewan’s father, Albert, was a locomotive engine driver on the Great Western Railway based at the Neath loco shed. He was known locally as Bert. Helena, on the other hand, was Italian and had married Bert at the end of the First World War. When Italy joined Germany in 1940 against Britain, there had been a risk that she might be interned, but this was quickly dispelled by authorities. She was now very much British and had only one son, Ewan. She longed for a daughter, but that was not to be. However, when Ewan married Hazel Almonde in 1942 and he introduced her to Helena, it was a dream come true for Helena. Hazel was an instant success with Helena. To add to the contentment within the family, Bert also dotted on her. All four were a close-knit family. The only downside was that sooner or later Ewan would be posted away and probably for the highly rumoured invasion of Europe from England. It was inevitable, as Ewan had completed the training of MTB crews in Swansea. As April ended, it seemed that the day was to be sooner.

Hazel arrived at home to be greeted by Helena with a cup of tea. It was a routine that they had forged over the last five months without any break except for a weekend with Ewan’s uncle Richard who owned a small farm in the Sussex village of Southease, three miles north of Newhaven on the River Ouse. It was rare to get any time off with the mounting tension for Operation Overlord, the name given to the planned invasion of Europe from England.

‘Ewan telephoned me at the hospital to say he would be late home tonight and to start dinner without him,’ said Hazel to Helena, Ewan’s mother.

‘He works too hard,’ said Helena, her Italian accent creeping out.

‘Yes, you’re right, and I think things are coming to a head,’ said Hazel in a low voice.

‘You mean the expected attack on the Germans from here?’

‘Yes, I do. I’ve heard stories that the whole of the southern coast is teeming with soldiers, guns, tanks, planes—all sorts of things,’ said Hazel.

‘Good but not good. Means that German spies will know that the invasion is soon,’ said Helena, and she slowly turned away to the kitchen.

‘I expect Ewan will be transferred and posted to the invasion area soon.’

Helena turned back to Hazel. ‘Yes, but he’ll look after himself. He’s got you. Come on, my dear, let’s get dinner started.’

Hazel changed from her nurse’s uniform into a simple dress and joined Helena in the kitchen.

Bert arrived home from the railway locomotive engine shed in Neath at six-thirty. He was also late. He hung is small kit bag, jacket, and cap on the wall hooks opposite the main hat stand. This avoided the coal grime of his engine dirtying the other hat stand. He entered the lounge and looked around. ‘No Ewan?’ he said.

‘Working late,’ said Hazel, pouring a cup of tea for Bert.

‘Lot of train movements today and a lot more to come, so we’ve been told,’ said Bert.

‘We can all guess what that’s about,’ said Hazel.

Half an hour passed when Ewan arrived, following the same routine as Bert but placed his cap on the hat stand. He entered the lounge as Hazel brought in two plates of roast beef and potatoes, followed by Helena with a bowl of mixed vegetables and a small jug of beef gravy. It was traditional and although food had been under severe rationing, it was now slightly relaxed with farming picking up much of shortages.

‘Sit with Ewan,’ ordered Helena, ‘I’ll get the other plates.’

Hazel obeyed immediately and nurtured Ewan to the table. Bert joined them.

Ewan was quiet and Hazel sensed it. ‘It’s come, hasn’t it?’ she said.

Ewan nodded. ‘Yes. I can’t tell you where I am going but I can say that I’ve spoken with uncle Richard, and I’ll be seeing him soon.’

‘Soon?’ noted Bert.

Hazel felt a cool shiver down her spine.

‘Fraid so,’ said Ewan and put his hand onto Hazel’s hand.

She plucked up courage and asked, ‘When?’

‘Two days,’ came Ewan’s almost steely reply. He looked at Bert. ‘I’m on the seven-thirty train for London on Wednesday.’

‘Day after tomorrow?’ murmured Bert.

Hazel felt downhearted but was enlivened by Helena’s roast beef dinner.

With dinner finished, Bert suggested that they all go out for the evening.

3

RAMSGATE

The Southern Railway electric train buzzed along the railway track that led to Ramsgate. Ewan’s destination was Ramsgate Harbour Station and Naval HQ, which was on the edge of the harbour entrance from the centre of the town.

The train slowed as it passed over a junction of track points. The clatter of wheels on the metals delivered a screech as the brakes were applied. Ewan looked out of the window and saw both the ravages of war and the mountain of armaments stored under cover. The air raid bomb damage from earlier years was evident but so were the military guards on the railway sidings and covered dumps of ammunition and guns, thought Ewan. It was a different view to that of Neath in South Wales, although like Swansea docks. This fused his mind to return to Hazel, who had wished him goodbye earlier in the morning. She was on duty at her hospital before Ewan left.

Helena had walked with Ewan to the station to see him off. Her beloved son off to war. In one sense she was very saddened but somehow felt that God was looking after him. She stood on the east bound platform with Ewan. A locomotive stopped at the opposite platform, steam hissing from the piston boxes. There was a sudden release of steam which attracted their attention. The engine driver leaned out of locomotive cab and waved to Ewan and Helena. It was Bert. He shouted across the track, ‘Good luck son. Your train is on its way. It’s on the curve.’ He pointed westward to the curving mainline. Ewan instinctively looked in the direction. The train, bellowing smoke and steam, was approaching.

The platform suddenly was filled with more passengers; the majority in uniform, as was Ewan. He gave Helena a big hug.

‘Look after yourself Ewan. Write when you can,’ said Helena supressing a tear.

‘I will. Mama look after Hazel for me.’

‘We will,’ said Helena and released her grip on his arm.

Ewan got on board the train and was lost within the melee of passengers getting into the coaches. The train was crowded with many passengers standing in the corridors.

The Southern Railway electric train glided into Ramsgate Harbour Station. As he alighted from the train, clutching a brief case and small suitcase, he bumped into and nudged his way through the throng of passengers, all funnelling to the ticket checking barriers.

Ewan produced a travel warrant and showed it to the ticket collector, who quickly directed him to two redcaps, Military Policemen. One of the MPs checked the warrant. ‘Are you going to Naval HQ sir?’ said the MP.

‘Yes. Which way?’ asked Ewan. Although he had been given directions in Swansea, they seemed a sparse.

‘Yes sir,’ said the MP and pointed towards the station entrance. ‘Just follow the road straight down over there and you will see the HQ next to the main gate to the harbour.’

Ewan thanked the MP and strode off through the crowd leaving the station. The number of people, mainly in military uniforms, began to thin out and soon he found himself following men in naval uniform with a few women in naval uniform of the Women’s Royal Naval Service (WRNS), colloquially referred to as wrens. Although the MP’s directions seemed simple, he began to wonder where he was going. There was no sign of the harbour main gate, so he stopped a naval petty officer to confirm directions. He was heading in the right direction - it just seemed a long walk.

The Naval HQ was partly buried into the hill and cliff overlooking the harbour. Eventually, after passing through several checkpoints, he arrived at the SNO-CD’s office (Senior Naval Officer Coastal Defences). He was met by WRNS Second Officer Mary Stanford. ‘Ah! Commander Jones.’

‘Er yes. How do you know?’

‘You’re the only Lieutenant Commander I have listed to see the Commodore today.’

‘Oh! Right. And you are?’ asked Ewan.

Mary Stanford pointed to the small wooden name block on the front of her desk.

‘Okay. My powers of observation have just failed me,’ chuckled Ewan. He noticed that she was attractive and could not help gaze at the white shirt that toned off her modest chest. Mary was used to a sailor’s gaze; it was a give-away trait in many sailors.

‘I’ll let the Commodore know you’re here. Take a seat. He should be free shortly.’

‘Shortly’ – that could mean almost anything, thought Ewan. He cast his eyes around the office, starting with a map of the harbour and a larger map showing the English Channel to the French coast. There was a notice board with several sheets of paper neatly pinned. He followed the wall past the window to posters advertising the Royal Navy and one depicting a sinking ship, torpedoed, with a security message - Your careless talk can cause this!

Poignant, thought Ewan. He was about to turn his gaze back to Mary Stanford when another poster caught his eye. It was a Red Cross poster – British Red Cross needs nurses. There was an iconic figure of a nurse bearing a Red Cross on her upper uniform white apron. It was just as he first encountered Hazel in Malta a couple of years earlier; a Voluntary Aid Detachment nurse attached to one of the Royal Naval Hospitals.

He starred at the poster, and smiled, not realising that Mary was looking at him. ‘What’s amusing you?’ said Mary.

‘Oh! Nothing really,’ said Ewan, turning back to her.

Mary looked around to the poster he was viewing. ‘You like nurses?’

‘Oh! Yes. I’m married to a nurse just like that,’ he said, nodding back to the poster.

‘You love her very much,’ said Mary.

‘Yes. Very much so. She’s back home in Wales. Wish she could be with me, but then that’s this war all over, isn’t it?’ he said, with a tone of sadness in his voice.

‘Yes. I know what you mean. My fiancée is on one of your boats. Haven’t seen him for weeks,’ said Mary and sighed.

‘You know where I’m going?’ asked Ewan.

‘Yes. I prepared your orders.’

They chatted for a few more minutes before Mary returned to her filing and Ewan focused on the activity out in the harbour, through the window behind her.

Commodore Selby finished his telephone call; it had been over ten minutes. He opened his office door and first looked at Mary, then Ewan. ‘Lieutenant Commander Jones, Admiral,’ said Mary and then put a warming smile to Ewan.

‘Come in Commander,’ said the Commodore and added, ‘Mary. No interruptions.’

Ewan was still getting used to the rank contraction of commander from lieutenant commander. This was similar to that of colonel from lieutenant colonel in the army.

‘Good journey from Wales?’ asked Commodore Selby.

‘Tedious at times. Slow from London to here,’ said Ewan.

‘Hm. It’s the build-up to the big day. Everything military has the highest priority. Now down to business. You are here for a direct briefing by me and collect your orders, which are secret. You’ve had your initial briefing but now comes the nitty-gritty part.’

Ewan listened intently to the Commodore.

Commodore Selby concluded. ‘So, Commander. Now you have it. Good luck. I suggest you get a few beers in this evening. My secretary has booked you into the Wheatsheaf Hotel. It’s five miles out of town, nearest we could get you in at short notice. There will be a final briefing tomorrow morning at eight-hundred hours. See you then.’

Ewan thanked the Commodore. Mary Stanford gave Ewan a note about the hotel and details of the naval staff car that had been arranged for him. ‘One more thing Commander. Tomorrow morning you will be picked up with Lieutenant Riley, who will be travelling with you to Newhaven,’ said Mary.

Ewan left the HQ and found the staff car that was to take him to the Wheatsheaf Hotel. He checked in at six-thirty, his room was on the second floor. It was small with a comfortable looking bed, he hoped. He took out the envelope containing his special orders from his brief case and tucked it deep into his inside breast pocket. After depositing his small overnight case and brief case on a chair, he headed off to the bar. The guests thronged the bar and comprised a sea of uniforms, all services, with one or two in civvy clothes. He struggled through a group of soldiers to squeeze to the bar. Ewan ordered a pint of bitter ale and was about to pay for it when another naval officer bumped up behind him. ‘Sorry Commander. Could you order me a pint also. I’ll pay for it.’

‘That’s okay,’ said Ewan and the barman pulled another pint.

With a pint each in their hands, they made for a quiet part of the lounge bar. The young naval officer took a shilling from his pocket and offered it to Ewan.

‘No thanks Lieutenant. It’s on me,’ said Ewan.

‘Thank you, sir. I’m Riley.’

‘And I am Jones, Ewan Jones.’

‘Crickey! What a piece of luck. You must be Lieutenant Commander Jones, our new CO of the Newhaven MTB Flotilla?’

‘Sure am. And you must be Lieutenant Andrew Riley, skipper of MTB 3075.’

Ewan took a gulp of beer and grinned. ‘I’ve been briefed by Commodore Selby on all of you. But more importantly, let’s get something to eat.’

Ewan and Andrew Riley talked about their impending role as best they could in a public place, guarding against anything sensitive. Dinner, which surprisingly consisted of roast beef, was finished by nine. They aimed at one more drink before retiring to bed. In the morning they breakfasted early and retuned to Naval HQ Ramsgate in time for another and final briefing before driving on to Newhaven.

4

DENTON ISLAND

The MTBs were berthed along the shores of the River Ouse from Denton Island down river along the west shore passing the railway ferry berth. The flotilla offices were on Denton Island. The island housed also living quarters for some of the crews. Access to the island was via a single road bridge with a naval guard check point on the town side. There was also a shore-based workshop serving the MTBs and the RAF air-sea-rescue launches.

Denton Island base had accommodation ready for Ewan as Officer-in-Charge and as a relative junior rank as Lieutenant, albeit Acting Lieutenant Commander, he chose to stay three miles upstream in the village of Southease. This was his uncle Richard’s small-holding farm, which mainly produced vegetables. It was a piece of luck that Ewan was assigned to nearby Newhaven. The farm bordered the River Ouse and the Southern Railway Station, Southease and Rodmell, only 400 yards from the farm cottage. Although Ewan had a staff car and driver assigned to him, he also intended to use his uncle’s motor launch between the farm and Denton Island.

The naval staff car, driven by Leading Seaman Bennett, negotiated the tortuous roads with Andrew Riley to arrive at Greenacre Farm, uncle Richard’s farm, just after midday. The last few miles from Lewes was navigated by Ewan, directing Bennett from the main road from Lewes to Newhaven. Ewan arranged with Bennett to collect him at six in the evening.

Uncle Richard greeted Ewan at the small garden gate to the farm cottage. ‘Ewan. Good to see you. Everything is ready for you. I thought a light lunch.’

‘Thanks uncle Richard. Dad and mum send their regards. And, Hazel, of course,’ said Ewan, and sauntered along the garden, path side-by-side with Richard, to the farm cottage front door.

‘How is Hazel?’ Richard asked.

‘Fine. This the first time we will have been significantly apart since we married. She hopes to come and see us in a week or so.’

‘Depending on your operational duties and the invasion?’

‘Yes, I guess so,’ Ewan sighed.

‘You’re not looking forward to it, are you?’ queried Richard, detecting that Ewan had something on his mind. ‘I won’t ask any more. There’s cold meats, cheese, and tomatoes in the kitchen.’

Ewan sat himself at the kitchen table. ‘You do quite well here,’ said Ewan, and grinned.

‘Sure is. It’s big perk running a farm these days. Tuck in.’

Ewan could not believe his luck. There was ham, chicken, and beef, which Ewan eyed.

‘I get good beef. Exchange with other farms around. All quite legal,’ chuckled Richard.

‘We don’t do so bad,’ said Ewan.

Richard produced two bottles of beer. They retired to the lounge where they chatted about life in South Wales, Hazel and eventually back to the war. Richard said that everyone around him was talking about the impending invasion with almost every section of road and adjacent fields full of military hardware: tanks, field guns, trucks, and scattered bivouac encampments. Richard also revealed that he went into Newhaven the previous week and noted that the harbour was choked with a variety of small naval craft.

‘Perhaps I shouldn’t say but are you something to do with the MTBs. They’re dotted around with several berthed at Denton Island.’

‘It’s no secret. I’m the Officer-in-Command of the MTB flotilla. My office is on Denton Island and some nights I’ll be staying there,’ said Ewan.

‘Tonight?’

‘No. Here with you. Being picked up at six.’

‘Right-o. Do you want a hand in unpacking. Got your room ready. Oh, and your two large cases arrived yesterday,’ said Richard.

‘No thanks uncle. I’ve also got a case being delivered to Denton. Mainly uniform stuff.’

‘Talking about uniforms. I see you now have two-and-half rings on your cuffs,’ said Richard approvingly.

‘Acting Lieutenant Commander.’

‘Bert must be very proud of you. I certainly am,’ said Richard.

Richard