Read Online Cold Harbour by Jack Higgins - Free Book Online Page B

Luftwaffe,” Craig said. “The Little Blitz, that’s what they’re calling it. Nothing like as bad as the first time around.”
    “Unless you happen to be underneath the next bomb they drop,” she said.
    There were flames over to the right of them and a stick of bombs fell close enough for Craig to swerve from one side of the street to the other. He pulled in at the kerb and a policeman in a tin hat emerged from the gloom.
    “You’ll have to park here and take shelter in the tube. Entrance at the other end of the street.”
    “I’m on military business,” Craig protested.
    “You could be Churchill himself, old son, you still go down the bleeding tube,” the policeman said.
    “Okay, I surrender,” Craig told him.
    They got out and he locked the car, and they followed a motley crowd streaming along the street to the entrance to the tube station. They joined the queue and went down two escalators, finally walking along a tunnel until they emerged into the tunnel itself beside the track.
    The platforms were crowded, people sitting everywhere, wrapped in blankets, their belongings around them. WVS ladies were dispensing refreshments from a trolley. Craig queued and managed to secure two cups of tea and a corned beef sandwich which he and Genevieve shared.
    “People are marvellous,” she said. “Look at them. If Hitler could see this right now, he’d call off the war.”
    “Very probably,” Craig agreed.
    At that moment, a warden in a boiler suit and tin hat, his face covered in dust, appeared in the entrance. “I need half-a-dozen volunteers. We got someone trapped in a cellar up on the street.”
    There was a certain hesitation, then a couple of middle-aged men sitting near by got up. “We’ll go.”
    Craig hesitated, touching his wounded arm. “Count me in.”
    Genevieve followed him and the air raid warden said, “Not you, love.”
    “I’m a nurse,” she said crisply. “You might need me more than the others.”
    He shrugged wearily, turned and led the way out, and they all followed, back up the escalators and into the street. The bombs were falling further away now, but fires blazed over to the left and there was the stench of acrid smoke on the air.
    About fifty yards from the entrance to the tube, a row of shops had been blasted into rubble. The warden said, “We should wait for the heavy rescue boys, but I heard someone crying out over here. Used to be a café called Sam’s. I think there’s someone in the cellar.”
    They crowded forward, listening. The warden called out and almost immediately there was a faint answering cry.
    “Right, let’s get this lot cleared,” the warden said.
    They attacked the pile of bricks with their hands, burrowing deep, until after fifteen or twenty minutes, the top of the area steps appeared. There was barely room for a man to enter headfirst. While they crouched to inspect it, someone cried out in alarm and they scattered as a wall crumpled into the street.
    The dust cleared and they stood up. “Madness to go down there,” one of the men said.
    There was a pause then Craig put his cap in his trenchcoat pocket, took the coat off and handed it to Genevieve. “Jesus, I only got his damn uniform two days ago,” he said, dropped on his belly and slithered into the slot above the steps.
    Everyone waited. After a while they could hear a child crying. His hands appeared holding a baby. Genevieve ran forward to take it from him and retreated into the centre of the street. A little later, a boy of about five years of age crawled out, covered in filth. He stood there, bewildered, and Craig emerged behind him. He took the boy’s hand and crossed to join Genevieve and the warden in the middle of the street. Someone cried a warning and another wall cascaded down in a shower of bricks, completely covering the entrance.
    “Blimey, guvnor, your luck is good,” the warden said and he dropped on one knee to comfort the crying child. “Anyone else down there?”
    “A