“Nothing yet?” he asked as Paul stood in front of his desk.
Paul shook his head while fingering his service cap. “Nothing, sir. I was hoping you had something.”
Crockatt scrutinized him as he stretched back in his chair. “You don’t give up easily, I’ll say that for you.”
“They’re my brothers, sir, and we’ve had no word of them in over a week.”
“Nothing from the troops evacuated at Dunkirk?”
“Not so far. The units are still trying to sort out who arrived home and who was left behind.”
“It’s not even been two weeks. Give it some time.”
“Give it some time?” The intensity of Paul’s sharp retort surprised them both. He glanced down at his cap. “Sorry, sir.” Then he looked up with an expression just short of defiance. “Within the last two weeks, Dunkirk fell, the Germans paraded into Paris, the French government fled and appointed a new head of state, and three hundred thousand of our troops arrived to a hero’s welcome after an astounding defeat.”
Crockatt sat forward. “I’d be careful what you say, Lieutenant.” His tone was stern, but his face revealed compassion. “You apparently missed Mr. Churchill’s speech. He claimed no victory. You can’t blame people for being happy about the return of so many of our fighters. Why did you come to see me?”
Paul took his time to respond. “I hoped your group had heard something.”
“Is that all? You haven’t accepted my offer to transfer over here.”
Paul hesitated. “Sorry, sir. I’m not understanding all the machinations going on at the national level. I rather hoped that you could shed some light.”
Crockatt leaned back again in his chair and lit a cigarette. He offered one to Paul, who declined. “So, you needed someone to talk to.” He gestured for the lieutenant to take a seat. “Why not your own boss?”
“It’s not that easy. In MI-6, I’m one among thousands.”
Crockatt chuckled. “And here we have a flatter, shallower organization. You can get to the top man more easily. Is that it?”
Paul nodded sheepishly. “I’m trying to understand, sir, why we gave up the fight so easily. Why did we evacuate so readily? More importantly, why did we leave so many behind without a shred of support and call the whole operation a victory.” His eyes flashed. “We’ve deserted soldiers in port after port along the French Atlantic coast. Do we even know how many are still over there, scared for their lives, feeling abandoned, trying to survive? I don’t feel victorious.”
Crockatt blew smoke out and lowered his voice. “Having your two brothers missing doesn’t help.” He puffed on his cigarette and cast a sidelong glance at Paul. “You seem to know a lot of things you’re not supposed to.”
“I dig for information, sir. I can’t just let my brothers disappear.”
The two sat in silence. Then, Paul blurted, “Why did Churchill abandon all those soldiers in France? I did hear his grand speech you mentioned about the spirit of Dunkirk and what a success that operation was. The evacuated soldiers were feted as heroes, but we left tens of thousands behind, maybe hundreds of thousands. The press isn’t telling that part of the story. I’m not alone in worrying about family members left over there.”
He looked to Crockatt as though he had more to say, so the major remained quiet.
“We’ve had more boats arrive from other beaches since the flotilla returned from Dunkirk. The later returning soldiers aren’t being treated like heroes. Some of them had not eaten in a week. Some were still in shock from all they’d seen and experienced. They fought to allow our main force to leave. We abandoned them, and when they made their way home, we treated them like pesky vermin.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“Because whenever I hear of another boat coming in, I go to the docks. I stand with mothers, sons, daughters, fathers. Just like them, I peer into every face, hoping against hope that I’ll see Jeremy or Lance. And just like those family members, I hold out pictures of my brothers, praying that someone had seen them. Then, when the procession of half-alive men passes by after being mistreated by port officials checking their papers and questioning their right to be in England, I see the shoulders of those waiting family members droop, and they leave in anguish with tears running down their faces, just like I do.”
Silence.
Crockatt extinguished the stub of his cigarette in an ashtray. “I can’t offer much comfort,” he said quietly, “but let me ask you a question.” He waited until Paul’s eyes met his own. “What do you think the prime minister should have done differently?”
Paul took in a deep breath. “I know, I know. He didn’t put the troops in France, and he warned the country and that cowardly parliament for years about the danger Germany presented. They laughed at him. But Dunkirk happened on his watch.”
“Agreed. No argument. But how would he have defended our homeland if almost our entire army was imprisoned in Germany? He had to get a fighting force home, and in the process, he handed the British people something we’ve needed for a long time, something to celebrate, the spirit of Dunkirk.”
“I understand that, sir.” Paul sounded haunted. “But why not support those who remained behind? Why mistreat those who got home later?”
Crockatt arched his brows. “I don’t have a good answer for your second question. I suppose the worry is that spies could infiltrate with escaping troops.
“With regard to your first question, we give the soldiers still in France whatever support we have available; but unlike Hitler and against Churchill’s advice, we did not build up our bomber forces between wars. We send over warships and flotillas of boats manned by civilian volunteers, and our fighters provide cover as much as possible. Many of the pilots in those planes pay with their lives. For that matter, so do a lot of the crews on those ships and boats. I’d call that support.”
Crockatt
