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Lights
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Dunkirk, 1940
This is something I have been working on for a bit, and thought I would post it here...
Pt. IIt was a warm spring evening as Charles Lightoller walked into his home in ****foster’s. A long day and it would be nice to have a pink gin and a bite of dinner, then settle in for a quiet evening with his wife, Sylvia. He smiled at the smell of flowers in the air. This was a vast improvement on the scent of eau de chickens that seemed to hang heavy in the air at times. Well, a man couldn’t expect much else if he raised chickens, Lightoller now supposed.
As he closed the kitchen door behind him, he heard the sound of the telephone from the hall, and his wife’s voice answering. His dear wife, to whom he had now been married thirty-six years. He smiled at her broad Australian accent which, while it had lessened over the years, was still recognisable to his ears. A capital lass, his Sylvia. He would forever thank the urge, which had prompted him to pick her up and carry her round the ship. That was how they had met: Syl had been all of eighteen, just coming home from a husband-hunting trip on board the Suevic, which was where they’d met. She’d been limping about and he, ever a pushover for a lady in distress, had first asked if she’d hurt herself. She’d told him no, that she had been born with it. He’d fallen from her from the first sight, and before he’d known it, they’d married in December of that year, Syl a vision in a ruffled dress, a large flowered hat atop her curls. Now, here they were nearly four decades later, with four wonderful children and still deeply in love as the day he’d slipped that gold band on her finger.
Now, Lightoller winced a bit and blinked back tears. Their youngest son, Brian, had been killed during an aerial battle—his plane had collided with a barrage balloon—the very first night on which war with the Gerries had been declared. Brian, the baby of the family, not even twenty-one yet, dying for his country right at the very start. Worst of all Syl and he had not yet been able to visit his grave because it was in German-held territory. It had been worse on Syl than on him, but then it was always worse on a child’s mother, he now supposed. Yes, infinitely worse, as she carried the child for nine months and largely raised them. In Syl’s case, most of the credit for raising fine children had to be given to her since he’d been away at sea so much of the time, especially in the case of Trevor and Roger, their two eldest children.
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"What I remember about that night- what I will remember as long as I live- is the people crying out to each other as the stern began to plunge down. I heard people crying, 'I love you.'"
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Jan/3/2006, 7:37 pm
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EMAILLights
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Lights
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Re: Dunkirk, 1940
“Bertie,” Syl’s voice interrupted his reverie, “It’s a chap from the Admiralty. Wants to talk to you about Sundowner.”
“Sundowner?” Lightoller wondered aloud, “Right then, I’ll speak with him.”
“Hello? Lightoller here.”
“As you may know, we are getting together a fleet of both naval and private pleasure craft to go over to Dunkirk and get everyone out before the Germans close off all possibility of rescue. I understand you have a  . Ah, Sundowner.”
“Yes,” Lightoller paused, wondering just what the chap was on about.
“We want to man her with a naval crew and take her over and back. There would be no danger to yourself.”
“I’m sorry but I am not going to permit you to put a naval crew aboard my .” He glanced over to see Syl standing there, wiping her hands on her apron, smiling at his proprietary pride in his boat.
“But—“ the man from the Admiralty stammered.
“Hear me now. No one is going to take that boat anywhere unless it is my son and myself! Now, if you want to let me do so, I will be willing to go along with this rescue effort. If not, then you will have to find yourselves another to borrow!”
Lightoller felt his face go hot with anger. Let those—those twits at the Admiralty get their hooks into his dear little lady, his beloved Sundowner? He wouldn’t trust them to take her to the end of her slip, let alone over to Dunkirk and back at the height of battle! As he’d told an officer who’d ordered him into a lifeboat from the deck of the sinking Titanic twenty-eight years earlier, “Not damned likely!”
“But—but, Commander—“ oh, yes, he really had the chap flustered now!
“That is my final word on it. Either my son and I take her over and back, or there is no deal!”
“All right, come down in the morning and we shall talk.”
“Right then, good night” Lightoller hung up.
---
"What I remember about that night- what I will remember as long as I live- is the people crying out to each other as the stern began to plunge down. I heard people crying, 'I love you.'"
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Jan/3/2006, 7:38 pm
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Re: Dunkirk, 1940
“What was that all about, Bertie?”
“Oh some chap wants to erm, ‘borrow” Sundowner for a run over to Dunkirk. I told him not unless I was aboard and seeing to things.” Lightoller began dialling a number, then waited for the person on the other end to answer, “Rodgy! It’s your old Da here! How would you like to help me take Sundowner out in a couple of days?”
“Take Sundowner out?”
“Yes. The Admiralty wanted me to let a Navy crew take her to Dunkirk and back, but I told them either you and I took her over and back or there was no deal.”
“So nice of you to volunteer my services.” Rodgy laughed. He knew his father and didn’t particularly mind.
“That’s because I knew you would be keen on it, “Lightoller laughed in return.
“All right. I’ll be down in the morning so we can get her ready.”
“Come for breakfast,” Syl interjected, “I’ll make a nice big breakfast for all of us.”
“Right, then, I will be there for breakfast bright and early.”
“Good night, Rodgy, see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Da. See you in the morning”
After ringing off, Lightoller followed Sylvia into the kitchen of their home. Called ‘the Cottage”, it was actually a very respectably sized Victorian house. As always, Syl had managed to make it homey and cosy with all kind of knickknacks. But then trust a woman to be able to do that. If it had been up to him, it would have likely looked like his old bedsit Merseyside. Not very cosy or homey, he now judged.
“Well, aren’t you going to try to talk me out of it?”
“I know better than to try,” Sylvia laughed as she started to dish out dinner.
“I’m sorry. I suppose I am a trial at times.”
“I don’t mind. Life is never boring with you.” She looked over at him and smiled lovingly. Her darling boy.
“I can’t just let the Admiralty blithely head for Dunkirk in our boat.”
“No, I suppose you can’t,” she agreed.
“I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her.”
They sat quietly, speaking now and then, enjoying one another’s company. It was nice to have a real home. When he’d been younger, his little bedsit’s loneliness hadn’t really become apparent until he’d married. Then, he’d realised that he really had needed someone in his life—and not just anyone. He had needed his Sylvia—and he still did. He always would.
Lightoller smiled as he sipped his tea. Syl had not fought him on this, but then he hadn’t expected her to. The real fight would come tomorrow, when he went over to headquarters to hash things out with the Admiralty chaps. That would be enough of a fight for a while. Well, enough of that; he would get some sleep and deal with all that in the morning.
“Are you really going to do this, Bertie?” Sylvia poured tea and sat across the kitchen table from her husband the next morning, “You really are going to take Sundowner out, aren’t you?”
“Oh yes. I am deadly serious about this whole thing.” He looked at her over the tops of his reading glasses, “No one is taking Sundowner anyplace unless I’m aboard her. I know the Navy, lovey. If I let them just blithely sail her to Dunkirk, I’ll never get her back. I have no intentions of letting anything happen to her that doesn’t happen to me!”
Sylvia shook her head. She knew better than to try to dissuade her husband; it would only make him more obstinate. Still, he was getting just a bit too old for this sort of thing. A couple of years before, she’d gone with him on spy missions along the continental coast and the Gerries had very nearly caught them out at it. Only her acting like a ninny and Bertie acting as if he’d had a few too many had saved them from having the Germans board Sundowner. If they had, they likely would have found the camera with which he’d taken numerous pictures. Really! At his age, he ought to know better!
“I have to do my bit, too.” He smiled at her, “after all, Trevor is home safe. Now I have to try to make sure that at least some other lads make it home safe as well.”
“Da!” a deep voice rang out as the door to the yard slammed.
That would be their eldest son, Roger. Just like his father, Sylvia now thought as she got up to serve him a bite of breakfast. Always up for a bit of excitement, no matter what that excitement might prove to be.
“Well, are you all ready?”
“Oh sure. Did you line up a third for this little jaunt?”
“Yes. A sea scout. Nice lad. Name’s Jerry Ashcroft. The three of us can manage.”
Lightoller looked over towards his wife. He wasn’t about to discuss things in detail since, with her fiery temper, his Australian-born wife was sure to lower the boom if she learned of what Roger, Jerry, and he would be doing to Sundowner preparatory to taking on men once they made Dunkirk. Everything that could be taken off or torn out would be. And when he said “everything”, he meant everything. Bunks, furniture, the benches in the wheelhouse—if it could be removed it would be. He was going to cram as many men aboard Sundowner as he could. He would need every bit of space in order to be able to do that. Even Sylvia’s cooker would have to go. Oh dear, that was her pride and joy so it would be the first thing put back onto Sundowner once they’d made whatever runs would be asked of her. Best that Sylvia, or Syl as he had nicknamed her, be left in the dark about that part of the operation. No sense in his borrowing trouble.
“So the Admiralty said yes?” Roger dug into his plate of kippers, eggs, and crumpets.
“Not exactly,” his father admitted, “that’s the reason for this.”
“This” was his old Royal Navy commander’s uniform from the Great War. He would go down there in all his somewhat burnished splendour, accompanied by the smell of moth crystals to make certain that he would be aboard Sundowner when she sailed from Ramsgate. If she were destined to go down, he would go down with her. Not that she would, mind you. It was just that he knew her better than any man alive and her best chance of survival lay with him.
He smiled as he now remembered how excited he’d been when he’d found her down at Conyers Creek, an old rather beat-up surplus steam pinnace. This was a chance to make real his dream of finally being able to afford his own boat! Between boat builder Charlie Cooper and him, they had taken an old beat-up pre-Great War pinnace, and had turned her into a thing of beauty, complete with a paraffin engine. A bit later on, he’d had it torn out and replaced with a 72-horsepower Gleniffer diesel engine, an arrangement that had raised her top speed by a knot or two. She was rigged for sail and occasionally he took her out under sail, but for this, the engine would do just fine. Less for the Gerries to aim for. After all, if her sails ended up full of holes, it would do them no good.
Oh, she had looked so incredibly beautiful as she’d slid down the ways on that day over ten years earlier, her milk-white hull gleaming newly painted in the late June sunshine. Sylvia had not only had the honour of christening her, but had chosen her name as well: Sundowner, which in Australian meant “wanderer”. That is what she’d nicknamed him because of all his voyages over the years, so, in a way, it had been named for him. Unfortunately, Syl had cut her finger on the champagne bottle, but trusty little Sundowner proven the old superstition that a ship that drew blood at her christening was unlucky wrong by bringing them through a storm that might well have sunk another boat.
After more than ten years, she was practically a part of him—no, she was a part of him—standing at her wheel, he felt more connected to her than any other ship he’d helped to sail. The thought of letting a navy crew take her out only to sink her was his idea of the ultimate nightmare. He wasn’t about to let that happen. Not as fine and faithful as she’d proven to be in the decade since her launching. To his way of thinking, Sundowner was the finest boat he could have ever hoped for and he was not—repeat, not—going to let her come to harm at the hands of strangers! If the Royal Navy didn’t like it, they could take a long walk off a short pier! Either they played things his way or the deal was off!
As for his trip to the staging centre for the evacuation later on, he didn’t expect much of a problem. As rushed and short-handed as the Royal Navy co-ordinators were, they’d be likely to say that he could take Sundowner over to Dunkirk and back, no questions asked. Oh yes, this would be a piece of cake. Even if they turned him down flat, come hell or high water, he would be aboard her. No one was going to keep him off his boat and that was that!
Things must be sheer hell over there, the booming sound of the great guns of both sides clearly audible here, across the Channel in England, a breeze occasionally brining them the smell of burning petrol and the scent of expended high explosives. This was bad, but no matter—he would do his bit for King and Country. No Tommie should be stranded at Dunkirk. No reason to let them fall into enemy hands. No reason at all.
“Jerry is going to meet us there then?”
“Yes, I told him later this morning. After I’ve had a chance to get the Navy to see it my way.”
Sylvia smiled and shook her head as she noted the twinkle in her husband’s eye. Her Bertie was just plain irrepressible! Most chaps were trying to get out of having their  taken, though of course they would be—after all this was wartime, but her Bertie looked as if he planned to take out Sundowner out, wearing his old uniform and all. Trust Herbert Lightoller not to pass up a bit of excitement!
---
"What I remember about that night- what I will remember as long as I live- is the people crying out to each other as the stern began to plunge down. I heard people crying, 'I love you.'"
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Jan/3/2006, 7:38 pm
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wolfldy1877
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Re: Dunkirk, 1940
Greetings,
That was an excellent story. Boy I wish I could have been there to see it myself. Thanks for listening. TTYL, Laters.
From,
Robert
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"A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for."
-- William Shedd
"Live the journey, for every destination is but a doorway to another." From Masters of the Universe
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Oct/3/2006, 8:01 am
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wills
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Re: Dunkirk, 1940
Yes Lightoller was some piece of work. .
Will 
---
Suicide is a permenant solution to a temporay problem........
Whatever obstacles control,
Go on, true heart,
thou'lt reach the goal.
http://com4.runboard.com/bthetitanicshack
wills~~~~~
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Oct/4/2006, 12:27 am
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wolfldy1877
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Re: Dunkirk, 1940
Greetings,
He most certainly is. Makes me wish I had hanged with you guys more. Thanks for listening. TTYL, Laters.
From,
Robert
---
"A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for."
-- William Shedd
"Live the journey, for every destination is but a doorway to another." From Masters of the Universe
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Oct/4/2006, 3:21 am
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Lights
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Re: Dunkirk, 1940
I did have my moments, guys...still do, though I do think I would be hard-pressed to top my little jaunt to Dunkirk (along with Rodgy and Jerry of course) and back in 1940..
---
"What I remember about that night- what I will remember as long as I live- is the people crying out to each other as the stern began to plunge down. I heard people crying, 'I love you.'"
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Oct/4/2006, 7:23 pm
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EMAILLights
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wolfldy1877
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Re: Dunkirk, 1940
Greetings,
I mean I don't think I could top that in Robert's or this life. So yes Lights, you could atleast make life interesting. Thanks for listening. TTYL, Laters.
From,
Robert
---
"A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for."
-- William Shedd
"Live the journey, for every destination is but a doorway to another." From Masters of the Universe
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Oct/4/2006, 7:46 pm
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Lights
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Re: Dunkirk, 1940
 
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"What I remember about that night- what I will remember as long as I live- is the people crying out to each other as the stern began to plunge down. I heard people crying, 'I love you.'"
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Oct/9/2006, 5:47 pm
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