Wednesday, 6 February 2013

Land blessed land.

He woke from his exhaustion a few times in the next few hours, at the first he was even further away, later a sea mist came down and he did not have the foggiest idea where he was, but finally as dawn was beginning to colour the sky, Henry bumped ashore in Southern England.
    Time was against him, by now he should be far inland, waiting for the morning to move onward to Wareham and thence to approach Poole harbour from inland.
    Not knowing quite where he was, it was imperative to hide all traces of his landing. Taking his knife he slashed holes in the dinghy and pulled it out to sea before weighting it with rocks and sand.

    He turned and walked inland draggind a skein of seaweed behind to mask his footprints, only to walk straight into a line of barbed wire a few yards above the waterline.

    As the light improved his initial thoughts that this feeble defence line would not stop a single German soldier faded, he could make out the universal skull and crossbones sign of a minefield.
   It could only be a score of yards wide but he had to cross before it was light enough for the defenders to see and shoot him.
     Ducking beneath the wire he took his first tentative step....

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