A small boy, perhaps two years old, sat near the doorframe, terrified. He rolled to one side and started to crawl back into the room. With waning strength, Jeremy grabbed his shirt. The toddler shrieked and fought as Jeremy pulled him back and lifted him.
“Mummy!” the boy screamed in terror, mouth wide. “Mummy.” He struggled as Jeremy wrapped both arms around him and pressed the child against his chest.
“We’ll find your mummy,” Jeremy said hoarsely. He leaned against the doorframe with the little boy’s head near his own while searching the faces of frightened civilians who emerged from the smoke. Men, women, and children pushed out, some together and holding onto each other, some frantically seeking loved ones and joining the crush toward the exit and fresh air.
A woman swept past, calling frantically, “My baby.” She stopped and whirled where she stood, her face panic-stricken. “Oh please,” she implored to no one in particular. “I can’t find my baby.” Tears streamed from her eyes. “Timmy,” she called.
Hearing his name and his mother’s voice, the child pushed against Jeremy. “Mummy!” he cried. “Mummy!”
Just then, the ship began to roll to starboard, the floor sloping as the bow dipped, causing Jeremy to stumble forward. Momentarily unable to stop his momentum, he grabbed the woman’s arm. She had stepped backward to regain balance, teetered as she fought for control, and fell into Jeremy.
At first startled, she saw her son in Jeremy’s arms. “Oh God, Timmy!” she called. As mother and child struggled for each other, adrenaline coursing through Jeremy’s brain cleared his mind.
“We have to get Timmy out of here,” he yelled. “Where’s your husband.”
The mother teared up again and dropped her head. “Dead,” she said, her face a mask of grief and fear as she pointed to the room. “In there.”
“Then come on,” he said. “I’ll carry Timmy. Hold on to me.”
As they pushed with the crowd to get outside, the ship righted itself and then began listing to port. She’s going down.
Once on deck, the horrific scene that greeted them belied credulity. Splintered wood coated with a mix of oil and blood caused frightened people desperately seeking escape to slip and slide, a macabre sight. Huge numbers of soldiers had determined that the only route to survival lay in the water and had jumped. Already, hundreds if not thousands of heads bobbed in the water. Some troops flailed, some swam away, and some already floated on the surface, inert. More men leaped without looking for an open spot, many of them landing on top of their comrades, adding to injuries and casualties.
As the ship listed further, Jeremy saw that the deck sloped toward the bow. He paused and looked into the woman’s frightened face.
“Listen to me. I don’t want to scare you more, but this ship is going to sink.”
She nodded, her jaw locked in fright, her eyes open wide. Timmy had stopped struggling, and although quiet in Jeremy’s arms, he held onto his mother’s thumb.
“We only have minutes,” Jeremy yelled above the chaos. “What’s your name?”
Her voice shook as she responded, “Eva.” The blood had drained from her face.
Jeremy appraised her momentarily. She wore traveling clothes suitable for a diplomat’s wife in the summer.
“All right, Eva. Do you swim?”
She nodded and reached forward instinctively to caress Timmy’s forehead.
“Good. Listen to me carefully. We’re going to jump, but first we’ll head forward.” He pointed along the increasingly inclined deck. Soldiers pushed past them in the opposite direction, seeking a higher perch. “When I tell you, get out of your clothes. They’ll weigh you down. Your shoes too. We’ll have to get over the rail and jump together. In the water, we must get as far from the ship as we can, or it will drag us under. Do you understand?”
He saw that color had returned to her face. She gazed at Timmy with a fearful, determined expression. “I’m ready.”
They pressed against the wall, Timmy and Eva clinging to Jeremy. The Lancastria’s bow continued to sink farther into the water, making the deck steeper, and with blood and oil coating it, footing became even more slippery.
A gap appeared by the rail. Jeremy darted over, pulling Eva with him. “Now,” he said.
Without hesitation, Eva drew her dress over her head, shook off her shoes, and climbed over the rail. No one stopped to take notice. Meanwhile, Jeremy had lifted his shirt from over one shoulder and struggled to shift Timmy from one arm to the other in order to remove the rest of the shirt. Eva helped him, and then took the boy so Jeremy could clamber over next to her.
“What about your trousers and boots?” Eva asked.
“No time. Later.” He looked down at the swirling water. Fewer heads and bodies bobbed there than closer to midship.
He spotted a clear area below and estimated the drop at roughly twenty-five feet. Pointing it out to Eva, he told her, “That’s where we’re going. Hold your nose tight but keep both arms close to your body. Don’t think of Timmy now. Give him to me. I’m a strong swimmer. We’ll jump together. On three. Ready?”
Eva nodded nervously. “Just take care of Timmy.”
“With my life,” Jeremy said. He took the boy from Eva and pulled him against his chest. Crossing one arm around the child’s tiny back, Jeremy cupped his other hand over the little face and wedged the small head close between his own neck and shoulder. Then he counted off. Together, they leaped.
20
Lance had been sitting with Horton against a wall on the aft deck when the enemy planes struck. Sirens blared before anyone saw the bombers. Soldiers bolted upright, their exhausted eyes raised first to the sky and then to each other. The drone of many engines drowned the wailing
