Free Not Flag or Fail by D.E. Kirk Page B

by scrub and gravel at the bottom of some fairly low cliffs. What was beyond the cliffs we could not tell as they were a headland, what I could tell however was that whatever was beyond we would be able to see for ourselves, as the tide was out and it looked possible to walk around at the present time.
    I slid down the dune and called the others together, I told them it was time to move out, explaining what I had seen and that we would have to cross about half a mile or so of open ground between the dunes and the cliffs, where we would be totally exposed. After I had finished, Ronny informed us that we were back in Belgium, around the headland lay the town of Nieuwpoort, although what we would find there would be anyone’s guess.
    We didn’t hang about thinking about it but gathered our kit together and set off. Twenty minutes later we had reached the open part of the land, as soon as we did so, not wanting to prolong the danger more than was necessary, we broke into a fast trot. In far less than ten minutes we had reached the safety of the cliffs. Breathing heavily we squatted down, our backs to the cliffs and in celebration out came the fags, “That was a bit scary.” said Jack, a smile breaking out all over his face. “Well so far so good eh?” Harry said rubbing his knuckles over Jack’s head.
    “Ok … We’re not home yet” I said, trying to bring them back to the fact that we were still in a lot of danger. After we had finished our smoke we set off again, keeping well in to the base of the cliffs. After about an hour or so later we got our first glimpse of what lay around the corner.
    From where we stood at the edge of the rocks, more sand dunes faded in the distance to a flat wide sandy beach. On the far headland stood a lighthouse and in between the two points stood what looked like quite a substantial town, which I had no doubt would be full of German soldiers.
    Nearer to, several wooden rowing boats were pulled up onto the dunes, there were no ropes or buoys so it was fairly plain that the tide didn’t come in this far. Unfortunately they hadn’t left the oars but then I hadn’t envisaged rowing back to England anyway. Further out, several small fishing boats bobbed at anchor and I noticed for the first time just how choppy the sea was on this side of the headland.
    “Eh look at that …” said Jack and turning to look I saw that he was pointing at a hole in the rock that we hadn’t noticed before. It was about twelve feet up and could only be seen from this side of the rock. “Go on then.” I said, and Jack scrambled up. He went into the hole and quickly came out again, gesturing for us to follow him up. We entered the hole which opened out once inside to a cave about ten foot wide and at least twenty foot long. It was reasonably light in there, especially around the entrance; we could see a few old wine bottles, scraps of papers with some old magazines and newspapers on the floor by the side of the entrance, so it was obviously not an unknown spot.
    “We can stay here,” I said “but what do we do next? We can’t row back to England in a boat with no oars can we?”
    “No we can’t but if we can get out to one of them fishing boats surely we can motor back to England can’t we?” replied Harry, sounding a little desperate.
    “Anyone got any suggestions then?” I asked.
    “Fishy, if we all used our rifles, would we be able to paddle out to the boats in one of the rowing boats? “Ronny asked.
    “Doubt it, looks too blooming choppy to me. No, if we’re going to get out there we need proper oars.” he replied.
    “What do you do with your oars?” I asked him.
    “Well we should carry ‘em back home wiv us, but we all know one another so no ones going to nick em ‘cept the tourists. So this time of the year we usually just stick ‘em under the dory.” he replied.
    “So there may be oars under those dinghies then? I asked
    “Yes there could be, you’d have to look wouldn’t