Chapter 49

The next day after selecting a Jeep, Sol and Shaun began stripping it down of its machine guns and preparing it for the mission.

Meanwhile, Cookie was involved in adapting the silencers that had been on the Sten guns of the Palmach. Meanwhile, Bobby was showing the six volunteers how to make gillie suits from camouflage netting and shacking strips.

Around the Benghazi burner, that night drinking tea Cookie commentated on his progress to Bobby and Shaun.

“I’ve managed to adapt seven to fit the P38’s, they’re going to be a bit cumbersome adding nearly a foot to the length of the pistol, but the results are good. The downside is the range is halved, so you will have to be close, Bobby.”

Bobby nodded, “Hopefully, we will be using knives, so the guns are there mainly for backup, but thanks Cookie”.

Shaun knew Bobby had a silencer for his Browning Hi-Power that he had used on similar missions in Europe.

“The gillie suits are coming on well, and the guys soon got the idea of what Stanley and I wanted them to do. I’m hoping tomorrow we can begin training with them.”

“Well the Jeep is nearly ready, so with a bit of luck Sol and I will take off tomorrow night. With Stanley, Bobby and I away Cookie, you will be in charge. We will be away for about three weeks or so,” Shaun informed them.

Cookie nodded, resigned to the job.

Later Shaun laid out his equipment on the bed of the truck taken from his kitbag.

The RAF sheep lined flying jacket, his Shernaghs scarf, and goggles along with his Australian bush hat. He found the Leica camera Sargent Black had given him in Cairo along with two rolls of film and added a notebook and pencils. Shaun removed the Carl Zeiss 10X50 binoculars from its leather case and cleaned the lenses before fitting the covers back over them and replacing it. Next checked the leather case of his compass and the compass itself, before placing it with the other items. To these, he added his half-pint silver flask filled with Dimple Haig Malt Whiskey and six 25 pack of Gold Leaf cigarettes and his brass Zippo lighter.

Next, he checked his 1911 Colt Semi-Automatic in its US leather holster, and the three magazines. Then turned his attention to his Cartwright rifle. The weapon had been cleaned earlier that day, so he checked that the magazine was filled and checked the safety before sliding it back into the rifle holster. The bandoleer was loaded, with 40 rounds of ammunition, this and the rifle case he placed beside the pile he had selected. He was deciding to leave his kukri behind, in favour of a commando knife.

Shaun began to the items into a rucksack, adding additional pieces of clothing to protect the camera and compass.

When everything secured, he made his way over to the Jeep carrying his rifle and bandoleer with the rucksack over his shoulder.

Sol was just placing his rucksack in it as Shaun arrived. He noticed that Sol had a case for his rifle too, which he put on his bedroll. Shaun placed his backpack inside the Jeep, making sure it was secure, before placing his rifle case on his bedroll.

“You had better eat, Major, before we leave, it will be a long time before your next meal. We will leave in an hour if that is OK with you,” Sol said.

Shaun nodded, “That’s fine with me, Sol.”

He made his way back to the truck, leaving Sol checking everything was secure on the Jeep.

Cookie had prepared a chicken curry and a bottle of beer for him.

“All set Boss?” Cookie asked.

Shaun nodded, “Sol is just doing a final check on the Jeep cargo and then eating before we set off.

“He doesn’t say much, does he. Surprised Stanley made him his 2nd IC”, Cookie commentated.

“Well according to the files Ari Silverman sent with his intake to the Crater, he achieved the rank of Sargent in the British Army. So I guess he must have something in his character.” Shaun replied as he accepted the plate handed to him by Cookie.

He was wearing his flying jacket, scarf, goggles and hat as he approached the Jeep. Sol was wearing a British Army parachute smock with a faded maroon berry on his head, a Shernaghs scarf around his neck.

“All set Major?” He asked.

“Sol there are no ranks in the Palmach, so it’s Shaun all right”.

Sol gave a slight smile and nodded, “OK Shaun, get in”.

Shaun held on tightly to the grab handles of the Jeep as it lurched and bumped its way along the passage the Jeep was taking, its progress lit by the hooded headlights. He didn’t speak to Sol, knowing he had to concentrate on his driving.

As dawn broke over the crags, Sol pulled over to an overhanging cliff face, and they began to camouflage the Jeep, and afterwards, they made camp.

Throughout the eight nights, it took to reach the second gorge Shaun slowly pieced together Sol’s story, with gentle probing from talks they had had while waiting for night to come.

He, along with his parents and grandparents, had fled Poland when Germany invaded. His father, a lawyer, knew what the Nazi’s had done to Jews in Germany and had made preparations to escape. He had planned to flee to England, but somehow the family had become separated in the confusion of people trying to escape the Nazi’s.

How a fifteen-year-old boy had managed to traverse the distance from Poland to England and the insurmountable problems this must have coursed, Shaun could only imagine. But Sol had arrived in England in February 1940, friendless and without hardly any money. He had been placed with other refugees in a camp in Dorset.

Fortunately, Sol had an excellent grasp of English having studied it in school along with other languages. He made repeated attempts to find out information about his family but to no avail.