beach started shooting from behind.
Henderson told Khinde to stay in position and stop the two Kübelwagens, while he moved back towards the pier to see what was occurring on the beach.
‘Paul, cast off!’ he bellowed.
Henderson was surprised by the sight of Germans shooting at two dark figures on the beach. Marc was running down from the clifftop, and had a better view than Henderson.
‘It’s PT,’ Marc shouted, as he raced to within five metres of Henderson. ‘Stop bloody shooting at them!’
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ Henderson roared, before turning to shout at Khinde and Rufus. ‘Run for the boat. Marc, you get up there too. I’ll cover.’
But Marc saw Eugene and PT struggling up the slippery rocks at the base of the pier. He locked one arm around a wooden post and gave PT a hand up, but as PT stepped on to the pier he took a shot in the arm.
‘Bastards,’ PT howled, as Marc used all his strength to hold on to his friend.
As Eugene pulled himself up on to the pier, Khinde and Rufus raced over the planks towards Madeline IV. Henderson reached into his pocket and grabbed two hand grenades, hoping they’d hold back the advancing Germans. After pulling the pins, he threw one long distance towards the road and aimed the second carefully through the open door of the Peugeot.
By the time the grenades landed, the leading Germans were less than ten metres from Henderson. He set off down the pier, jogging sideways and spraying the last few bullets in his machine gun. Khinde covered him from the rear of the tug as the first grenade blew all the glass out of the Peugeot.
‘Fuse it, Paul, cast off. Rosie, start moving,’ Henderson shouted.
The harbour, the remaining tug and the barges had all been rigged up to a two-minute length of detonator cord. PT was in a lot of pain and Eugene had to throw him aboard. Paul grabbed a lighter and ignited the fuse as Rosie opened up the throttles so that the boat began crawling away from the pier.
Henderson had told Rosie to do this, but she was wary. She’d never driven a boat before and was scared of leaving him behind.
‘Stand clear,’ Henderson shouted, dropping his empty machine gun before leaping athletically into the rear of the boat as it crept alongside the pier.
PT was laid out on the deck and Henderson tripped over his legs and sprawled across the floor as PT howled with pain. Rosie put the boat to full throttle as three Germans raced up the pier, shooting machine guns at the back of the vessel.
They were too far away for accuracy, but stray shots hit the rear deck and splintered the wooden bridge up near Rosie. She heard a metallic clang and felt liquid spewing down her legs as the boat cleared the end of the pier.
‘Someone get up here,’ Rosie wailed desperately. ‘I’ve been shot.’
Back on the pier, the gendarme was warning the Germans that the pier was possibly rigged with explosives. But none of them spoke good French and with their machine guns blazing hopelessly at the disappearing rump of , they either didn’t understand or didn’t hear.Madeline IV
‘Oh god,’ Rosie yelled, as Henderson – head still throbbing from his encounter with the deck – climbed up the three wooden steps into the wheelhouse and felt his foot slide through something sticky. ‘Take the wheel. I’m shot.’
The sea was calm and the boat was heading in a straight line, so Henderson was more concerned with Rosie than the boat.
‘Calm down,’ Henderson ordered. ‘Where are you shot?’
‘I don’t know! This is exactly how my dad died. The wound was behind his shirt and we didn’t know until it was too late.’
‘Well, does it hurt?’ Henderson shouted. ‘Tell me where it hurts. Eugene, get up here and take the wheel for a minute!’
‘I’m not sure, but there’s blood everywhere!’ Rosie squealed.
Henderson touched Rosie’s leg and immediately knew the liquid was too thick to be blood. He raised his finger to his lips.
‘Tasty,’ he smiled.
‘What!’ Rosie squealed. ‘Are you nuts?’
‘It’s your brother’s,’ Henderson said, as he looked around the floor and spotted the barrel-shaped can with the bullet lodged in it. ‘German, dark chocolate sauce.’
‘Paul,’ Rosie yelled. ‘I’m gonna wring his skinny little neck!’
Then the pier three hundred metres behind them exploded.
‘Everyone brace,’ Henderson shouted, as a huge wave caused by the explosion rushed towards the little boat.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
10 September, 01:54 Sandgate, near Folkestone, Britain
The bullet had torn through PT’s right bicep,