‘Before getting down to detail I would like to make a few observations. There were many more volunteers than we needed for the shore party. That didn’t surprise me. But its members are limited and with a ship’s company of two hundred and twenty men there were bound to be disappointments. I’m sorry about that. However, every man in Restless is involved in the operation in one way or another. In every way it’s a team effort. In choosing men for the shore party I was influenced by our needs and their special skills. We’ve a poacher…’ He looked at Angus McLean and there was a murmur of laughter. ‘… four men with marksmen’s badges, some good swimmers, a county rugger player, a couple of Judo experts, and so on. Next point. No notes, please.’ Barratt’s eyes were on Andrew Weeks. ‘I don’t think anybody will be taken prisoner but we must guard against the possibility, however remote. So, no notes. When I get to what each of you has to do, commit your part to memory.’
With an embarrassed grin Andrew Weeks put away his notebook.
‘Now for the shore party,’ Barratt went on, looking round with eyes which seemed unusually bright. ‘First let me say that all those who landed in last night’s recce party have volunteered for tonight’s do, so we’ve an important advantage. Not only have we got men who’ve already been on the island at night but, in place of the splendid Mr Katu — ’ Barratt hesitated, frowned, then smiled at the fresh ripple of subdued laughter, ‘- we have Aba Said, a Maji islander. He not only knows every inch of the island and exactly where the submarine is lying, but he’s familiar with its routine, where the sentry posts are, their inspection routine, etcetera.’ Barratt looked across to where Peter Morrow was doing a low-key simultaneous translation for the African’s benefit. ‘He’s already given us marvellous information, including details like the submarine’s pennant numbers. He saw them on one of their inflatables. He’ll be invaluable tonight.’ Barratt consulted his notes. ‘Right — let’s move on. The shore party will be seventeen strong, split into four groups: the Pathfinders, three men; the Rig Crew, seven; the Beach Party, five men — and the Sharp End, two. Got that?’ He glanced at the faces in front of him. ‘Now this is where you chaps have got to listen very carefully because I’m going to give you the names of those in each group, and explain their duties. I’ll also give the times for the different stages of the operation. They are, of course, approximate.’ His manner took on a sudden gravity. ‘Remember — there can be hitches, things can go wrong. It’s the unpredictable in war which makes planning difficult. An awkward sentry for instance, or too much moon, too little cloud, too much noise. That sort of thing. So be ready to improvise if necessary.’
When he’d finished naming the men for each group and outlining their various tasks, he detailed the arms and other equipment to be carried, the signal arrangements and much else. That done, he explained the different stages of the operation, beginning with the beach landing, and ending with the destroyer’s recovery of the shore party.
He dealt next with the part Restless was to play, stressing the importance of timing, of synchronizing her movements as far as possible with those of the shore party. He spoke of the emergency signals, the circumstances under which they might be used, and the action the destroyer would take on observing them. At this point he said, ‘I think I’ve covered just about everything. If you have any questions, now is the time to put them. I’ll do my best to answer them.’
There were a number of questions, some of them important enough to require changes in the operational plan.
When Barratt had dealt with these he looked at the wardroom clock, compared the time with his wristwatch. ‘It’s almost 2000,’ he said. ‘Members of the shore party must have their gear, arms, etcetera mustered by 2130. It’s important to get as much rest as possible between then and 0200 when you leave the ship. ‘Wear dark clothing. Not too much, it’ll be very hot. Blacken your faces and all other exposed flesh — your hair, too, unless it’s black. See the Coxswain if you’ve not got enough blacking, he’ll fix you up. If you run into a Jap sentry in the dark we want him to think you’re an African.’ Barratt’s eyes glittered in a humourless smile. 7/ he has time to think before you kill him.’ He ran a hand across his forehead, once more cleared his throat. ‘Landing on the beach is, as I said earlier, scheduled for 0230. The attack itself round about 0320.’ His eyes travelled over the curious, expectant faces. ‘The First Lieutenant will command Restless in my absence, so the ship will be in good hands.’ He stood up. ‘Well, that’s it. I haven’t thrown in any pep talk. You probably dislike that sort of thing as much as I do. I just want to say that we’ve got a first-rate team, ashore and afloat.’ He paused. ‘When we sink that bloody submarine — I say bloody advisedly -1 hope we’ll give the Japanese some of the treatment they like to dish out to others.’ For a moment his stare seemed to reach out over the heads of his audience, to something beyond the confines of the wardroom. ‘That’s all,’ he said. ‘So good luck and good hunting.’
The First Lieutenant, an attentive but privately critical member of the audience, could not have disapproved more of Operation Map Mark Two. Nevertheless he conceded to himself that the Captain’s planning was impressive. It’s a pity, he thought, that he’s put so much into a mad-hat scheme which is bound to end in disaster.
There was no doubt in Hamilton’s mind that Restless under his temporary command would do all that was required of her, and for his part he would certainly do his utmost. But he was more than ever convinced that Barratt’s judgement had gone. The strange, almost wild light in the Captain’s eyes during the briefing strengthened Hamilton’s belief that the man was on the edge of madness, if not already there.
The punkah flapped interminably, sweeping invisible waves of warm air over those in the Operations Room.
The principle is absurd,’ said Captain (D), eyeing it savagely. ‘Hot air rises. That wretched contraption pushes it down again. Can’t we open another window?’
‘There aren’t any other windows, sir.’ Jakes’s smile suggested happiness with his answer.
‘Well, there ought to be.’ Captain (D) patted round the wetter parts of his forehead, face and neck with a large white handkerchief. ‘So, what is the news from the fighting front?’ he asked the room in general.
Looking gloomier than usual, the SOO tugged at the lobe of an ear. ‘Hutchison was about to report a message from the Duty Officer at 290 Squadron when you came in.’
‘Oh, sorry if I interrupted. Let’s hear it, Hutchison.’
The Flight Lieutenant, having twisted round to hold a whispered conversation with the Wren at the signals’ desk, turned swiftly. ‘Sorry, sir. I’m afraid I missed that?’
‘Not surprised.’ Captain (D) shook his head. ‘Your antennae were trained in the wrong direction. However, I gather you have news from 290 Squadron. What is it? Japanese Fleet sighted, or something serious?’