Jack Higgins
Cold Harbour
Dedication
And this one for my daughter Sarah
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Publishers Note
Foreword
1
There were bodies all around, clear in the moonlight, some . . .
2
As Craig Osbourne reached the edge of St Maurice, there . . .
3
The crew busied themselves tying up and Hare and Osbourne . . .
4
Just behind the village of St Martin there was a . . .
5
Jack Carter was waiting on the landing as they went . . .
6
Croydon was thick with mist and a heavy rain was . . .
7
Munro sat by the library fire in a wing-back chair . . .
8
In the morning, it seemed like a nightmare. Something which . . .
9
It was just after seven on the following morning when . . .
10
Genevieve and Craig and René stayed below at Hares request . . .
11
When Genevieve went into her aunts sitting room, it was . . .
12
She slept well and didnt dream and woke so suddenly . . .
13
The Grenadier in Charles Street was on the corner of . . .
14
As the Lili Marlene left Cold Harbour, Field Marshal Erwin . . .
15
She drifted down the great stairs on Priems arm as . . .
16
Himmler frequently spent the night in a small study adjacent . . .
17
On the afternoon of the following day, Jack Carter delivered . . .
About the Author
Other Books by Jack Higgins
Copyright
About the Publisher
PUBLISHERS NOTE
COLD HARBOUR was first published in the UK by William Heinemann Ltd. in 1990 and later by Signet. This terrific novel has been out of print for some years, and in 2011, it seemed to the author and his publishers that it was a pity to leave such a good story languishing on his shelves. So we are delighted to be able to bring back COLD HARBOUR for the pleasure of the vast majority of us who never had a chance to read the earlier editions.
FOREWORD
My reputation for novels of the Second World War since the unprecedented success of The Eagle Has Landed means that fans constantly write asking for more. Cold Harbour was firmly based in fact. Both British and German forces during the war assumed the identity of the enemy. Many German planes flew for the RAF and many British planes were operated by the Luftwaffe. At least two U boats were operated by the Royal Navy. So the idea of Cold Harbour, the secret base in Cornwall where the planes were Luftwaffe and the ships were Kriegsmarine, took shape. Ive been asked again and again to produce a sequel who knows?
JACK HIGGINS
October 1996
1
There were bodies all around, clear in the moonlight, some in lifejackets, some not. Way beyond, the sea was on fire with burning oil and as Martin Hare lifted on the crest of a wave, he saw what was left of the destroyer, her prow already under the water. There was a dull explosion, her stern lifted and she started to go. He skidded down the other side of the wave, buoyant in his lifejacket, and then another washed over him and he choked, half-fainting as he struggled for breath, aware of the intense pain from the shrapnel in his chest.
The sea was running very fast in the slot between the islands, six or seven knots at least. It seemed to take hold of him, carrying him along at an incredible rate, the cries of the dying faded into the night behind. Again he was lifted higher on a wave, paused for a moment, half blind from the salt, then swept down very fast and cannoned into a liferaft.
He grabbed at one of the rope handles and looked up. A man crouched there, a Japanese officer in uniform. His feet were bare; Hare noticed that. They stared at each other for a long moment and then Hare tried to pull himself up. But he had no strength left.
The Japanese crawled forward without a word, reached down, caught him by the lifejacket and hauled him on to the raft. At the same moment the raft spun like a top, caught by an eddy, and the Japanese pitched headfirst into the sea.
Within seconds he was ten yards away, his face clear in the moonlight. He started to swim back towards the raft and then behind him, cutting through the white froth between the waves, Hare saw a sharks fin. The Japanese didnt even cry out, simply threw up his arms and disappeared. And it was Hare who screamed, as he always did, coming bolt upright in the bed, his body soaked in sweat.
The duty nurse was McPherson, a tough, no-nonsense lady of fifty, a widow with two sons in the Marines fighting their way through the islands. She came in now and stood looking at him, hands on hips.
The dream again?
Hare swung his legs to the floor and reached for his robe. Thats it. Whos the doctor tonight?
Commander Lawrence, but he wont do you any good. Another couple of pills so youll sleep some more like youve slept all afternoon already.
What time is it?
Seven oclock. Why dont you have a shower and Ill lay out that nice new uniform for you. You can come down to dinner. Itll do you good.
I dont think so.
He looked in the mirror and ran his fingers through the unruly black hair that was streaked with grey, although at forty-six you had to expect that. The face was handsome enough, pale from months of hospitalisation. But it was in the eyes that the lack of hope showed, no expression there at all.
He opened a drawer in the bedside locker, found his lighter and a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He was already coughing as he walked to the open window and looked out over the balcony to the garden.
Wonderful, she said. One good lung left, so now youre trying to finish what the Japs started. There was a Thermos flask filled with coffee by the bed. She poured some into a cup and brought it over. Time to start living again, Commander. As they say in those Hollywood movies, for you the war is over. You should never have started in the first place. Its a young mans game.
He sipped his coffee. So what do I do?
Back to Harvard, Professor. She smiled. The students will love you. All those medals. Dont forget to wear your uniform the first day.
He smiled in spite of himself, but only briefly. God help me, Maddie, but I dont think I could go back. Ive had the war, I know that.
And its had you, angel.
I know. The butchers shop at Tulugu finished me off. It also seems to have finished me for anything else.
Well, youre a grown man. You want to sit around this room and quietly decay thats your business. She walked to the door, opened it and turned. Only I would suggest you comb your hair and make yourself respectable. Youve got a visitor.
He frowned. A visitor?
Yes, hes with Commander Lawrence now. I didnt know you had any British connection.
What are you talking about? Hare asked, bewildered.
Your visitor. Very top brass. A Brigadier Munro of the British Army, though youd never think so. Doesnt even wear a uniform.
She went out, closing the door. Hare stood there for a moment, frowning, then hurried into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Brigadier Dougal Munro was sixty-five and white-haired, an engagingly ugly man in an ill-fitting suit of Donegal tweed. He wore a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles of the type issued to other ranks in the British Army.
But is he fit, thats what I need to know, Doctor? Munro was saying.
Lawrence wore a white surgical coat over his uniform. You mean physically? He opened the file in front of him. Hes forty-six years of age, Brigadier. He took three pieces of shrapnel in his left lung and spent six days on a liferaft. Its a miracle hes still around.
Yes, I take your point, Munro said.
Heres a man who was a professor at Harvard. A naval reserve officer, admittedly, because he was a famous yachtsman with connections in all the right places who gets himself in PT boats at the age of forty-three when the war starts. He leafed through the pages. Every damned battle area in the Pacific. Lieutenant Commander, and medals. He shrugged. Everything there is, including two Navy Crosses and then that final business at Tulugu. That Japanese destroyer blew him half out of the water so he rammed her and set off an explosive charge. He should have died.
As I heard it, nearly everyone else did, Munro observed.
Lawrence closed the file. You know why he didnt get the Medal of Honor? Because it was General MacArthur who recommended him and the Navy doesnt like the Army interfering.
Youre not regular Navy, I take it? Munro said.
Am I hell.
Good. Im not regular Army, so plain speaking. Is he fit?
Physically yes. Mind you, I should think its taken ten years off the other end of his life. The medical board has indicated no further seagoing duty. In view of his age, he has the option of taking a medical discharge now.
I see. Munro tapped his forehead. And what about up here?
In the head? Lawrence shrugged. Who knows? Hes certainly suffered from depression of the reactive kind, but that passes. He sleeps badly, seldom leaves his room and gives the distinct impression of not knowing what the hell to do with himself.
So hes fit to leave?
Oh, sure. Hes been fit enough for weeks. With the proper authorisation, of course.
Ive got that.
Munro took a letter from his inside pocket, opened it and passed it across. Lawrence read it and whistled softly. Jesus, its that important?
Yes. Munro put the letter back in his pocket, picked up his Burberry raincoat and umbrella.
Lawrence said, My God, you want to send him back in.
Munro smiled gently and opened the door. Ill see him now, Commander, if you please.
Munro looked out on to the balcony across the garden to the lights of the city in the falling dusk. Very pleasant, Washington, at this time of year. He turned and held out his hand. Munro Dougal Munro.
Brigadier? Hare said.
Thats right.
Hare was wearing slacks and an open-necked shirt, his face still damp from the shower. Youll forgive me for saying so, Brigadier, but you are the most unmilitary man I ever saw.
Thank God for that, Munro said. Until 1939, I was an Egyptologist by profession, a Fellow of All Souls, Oxford. My rank was to give me, shall we say, authority in certain quarters.
Hare frowned. Wait a minute. Do I smell intelligence here?
You certainly do. Have you heard of SOE, Commander?
Special Operations Executive, Hare said. Dont you handle agents into occupied France and so on?
Exactly. We were the forerunners of your own OSS who, Im happy to say, are now working closely with us. Im in charge of Section D at SOE, more commonly known as the dirty tricks department.
And what in the hell would you want with me? Hare demanded.
You were a Professor of German Literature at Harvard, am I right?
So what?
Your mother was German. You spent a great deal of time with her parents in that country as a boy. Even did a degree at Dresden University.
So?
You speak the language fluently, I understand, or so your Naval intelligence service tells me and your French is quite reasonable.
Hare frowned. What are you trying to say? Are you trying to recruit me as a spy or something?
Not at all, Munro told him. You see, youre really quite unique, Commander. Its not just that you speak fluent German. Its the fact that youre a naval officer with a vast experience in torpedo boats who also speaks fluent German that makes you interesting.
I think youd better explain.
All right. Munro sat down. You served on PT boats with Squadron Two in the Solomons, am I right?
Yes.
Well, this is classified, but I can tell you that at the urgent request of the Office of Strategic Services your men are to be transferred to the English Channel to land and pick up agents on the French coast.
And you want me for that? Hare said in amazement. Youre crazy. Im all washed up. Christ, they want me to take a medical discharge.
Hear me out, Munro said. In the English Channel, British MTBs have had a very rough time with their German counterparts.
What the Germans call a Schnellboot, Hare said. A fast boat. An apt title.
Yes. Well, for some contrary reason we call them E-boats. As you say, theyre fast, too damn fast. Weve been trying to get hold of one ever since the war started and Im happy to say we finally succeeded last month.
Youre kidding, Hare said in astonishment.
I think youll find I never do, Commander, Munro told him. One of the S.80 series. Had some engine problem on a night patrol off the Devon coast. When one of our destroyers turned up at dawn, the crew abandoned ship. Naturally, her captain primed a charge before leaving to blow the bottom out of her. Unfortunately for him, it failed to explode. Interrogation of his radio operator indicated that their final message to their base at Cherbourg was that they were sinking her, which means we have their boat and the Kriegsmarine dont know. He smiled. You see the point?
Im not sure.
Commander Hare, there is in Cornwall a tiny fishing port called Cold Harbour. No more than two or three dozen cottages and a manor house. Its in a defence area so the inhabitants have long since moved out. My department uses it for, shall we say, special purposes. I operate a couple of planes from there, German planes. A Stork and a Ju88S night fighter. They still carry Luftwaffe insignia and the man who flies them, gallant RAF pilot though he is, wears Luftwaffe uniform.
And you want to do the same thing with this E-boat? Hare said.
Exactly, which is where you come in. After all, a Kriegsmarine boat needs a Kriegsmarine crew.
Which is contrary to the rules of war enough to put the same crew in front of a firing squad if caught, Hare pointed out.
I know. War, as your General Sherman once said, is hell. Munro stood up, rubbing his hands. God, the possibilities are limitless. I should tell you, and this again is classified, that all German military and naval intelligence traffic is encoded on Enigma machines, a gadget the Germans are convinced is absolutely foolproof. Unfortunately for them we have a project called Ultra which has succeeded in penetrating the system. Think of the information that would give you from the Kriegsmarine. Recognition signals, codes of the day for entry into ports.