Sheila
Her sprinted strides down the guest house steps hesitated as she became aware of the metallic voice shouting out the order:
“Halt! Drop your weapons!”
It took Sheila only a moment of confusion to understand that the order had been directed at her; her and the man that she was attempting to keep up with.
Sheila ignored the warning and carried on running across the pavement into the road, but at a more cautious pace; now unsure of herself and her safety, as she looked around at her immediate surroundings. Where had the voice come from? She saw no soldiers or pigs, only a collection of military vehicles seemingly parked haphazard all over the road, blocking it in both directions.
The man, McKendry, did not hesitate at all, but continued to rush across the wide promenade towards the structure of the pier that jutted out into the ocean beyond, and Sheila knew why.
She could see the disappearing form of her son, as he sprinted down the side of the pier, along a wooden walkway that ran between the large dance hall structure at the entrance and the rails that guarded against the sea. The fear pounded in her heart as she saw the woman who had threatened their lives in quick pursuit of John, and McKendry too must have seen them causing him to hesitate for not one moment in his chase. In that second, any doubts that Sheila still harboured that the man could harm her and her child were washed away as she realised that he would not stop until he had reached John; had saved John from the monster who chased him. He had no sense of danger, and she momentarily recalled how he had been ready to rush out of the guest house without her. It wasn’t her, Sheila that was important to him. She, she knew, was irrelevant in all of this. It was John.
It was all about John.
Sheila didn’t have time to contemplate what it meant; why the crazed blond woman was chasing her son. She didn’t have time to worry whether her friend, Dotty, was alive or dead in the back yard; didn’t have time to grieve for her son Brian, who she knew instinctively was dead. None of this could be processed in her head, as she continued to run across the road, trying to keep up with the American man. Some inner survival instinct had told her to lower the gun towards the floor as she continued to run, and she saw that the American had done the same. But he was not going to stop, and therefore, neither was Sheila.
She was only vaguely aware of 3 fast moving military style cars that quickly closed on their location as the metallic voice continued:
“Halt or we will open fire! Halt!”
The terrified mother looked to her right towards the source of the voice as she continued to run. This time she saw the shapes of heads, peering around the sides of vehicles; she saw the fleeting shadows moving in the thick privet hedges that separated the guest houses; she saw the hand held speaker that she surmised was the source of the commands; and she saw the rifles pointing in her direction.
Her steps again slowed, until she was barely running at all, her head swimming with confusion and fear as she looked around her and back to the still running form of the American as he stepped on to the wide pavement at the opposite side of the road.
The shots cracked through the air, and Sheila, legs still moving forward, as if of their own volition, winced, arms instinctively grabbing the top of her head. She heard the scream of the seagulls as a group broke free from the roof of the theatre to take flight, outraged at the disturbance. Sheila waited for the inevitable pain to hit her body, but it did not come. She could see a man, not too far from her, to the right shouting, “Ceasefire! Ceasefire! “through the open window of a moving car that was careering to a sudden halt.
She looked back towards the pier, as rough hands appeared from behind, grabbing her arms and bringing her to a sudden stop, and holding her tightly.
Commander Truman
The unit sergeant was shouting through his hand held loudhailer:
“I said ceasefire for God’s sake! Guns down. Guns down. Hold your fire!”
Agent Connor had leapt from the car just seconds after the Commander and was yelling:
“Ceasefire! Stop firing!”
The five or six soldiers who had taken up defensive positions at the entrance to the pier, around the ornate structures of the theatre, looked at the Comamnder with wide eyed alarm, slowly lowering their rifles. One of the soldiers was physically pulling the rifle from the hands of his colleague, shouting at him to lower his gun.
Commander Truman absorbed all of this as he stared at Agent McKendry.
McKendry did not stop. He did not falter for a single moment as he continued to run directly at the wooden walkway entrance onto the pier.
“Jim!” screamed the Commander, as his friend rushed directly past him.
McKendry’s stride did not break, as his head turned for a split second towards him. The Commander could see that the back of his head and shoulders were covered in blood; the white collar of his shirt now a crimson red. And through the blood that covered his face were his eyes. Eyes that held neither fear nor rage. Eyes that were simply determined. Eyes as hard as steel. Had he been shot? The Commander was dazed as he watched McKendry move. he felt that he was watching a machine or a ghost rather than a man. Rather than a mortal man.
“Let him through” he shouted, as he started to move towards the pier, realising as he did so, that it mattered not whether he gave the order, Jim was going through anyway.
Truman jogged towards the pier entrance and continued to watch in disbelief and wonder as McKendry reached the pier and ran along the walkway. Other than his blood soaked back, he appeared to be physically well and was running headlong without any kind of apparent impairment.
He glanced at the group of soldiers, some now standing with him, watching the figure disappear around the side of the theatre structure, into the centre of the pier:
“Good job you guys are lousy shots” he said to no soldier in particular, as he turned to deal with the commotion that was now taking place just few feet away. He did not hear as the GI, who just moments earlier had been disarmed, was speaking agitatedly to his friends:
“I got 3 pops off at the bastard. I swear I did! Red, you know what a goddam crack shot I am! I’m telling you, I whacked him three times in the chest!”
“And yet he’s still running” laughed his friend as he shook his head.
“Calm yourself down lady!” The Commander barked at the woman who was being restrained, before turning to the unit sergeant, who had made his way over the road to stand next to the struggling woman:
“Inside the guest house, Sergeant! Get it sealed off right away. All exits. I want a full report on who’s in there in two dam minutes!”
The soldier saluted and ran back to his unit that had gathered around the front of the guest house, barking orders as he appraised the pale and worried faces appearing at the windows of the dining room
“Connor, you’re in charge of these bozos here at the pier. But get on the wire. I need some more units down here. Seal this dam pier off. And I want a navy boat out there ASAP as well! No one comes in or out of this pier without my….”
“Let me through!” came the insistent pleading from the woman.
The Commander finally turned his attention to her:
“And you are?”
“I’m the boy’s mother! I need to be with him! Let me through!” she shouted as she struggled and tried to see the pier that was hidden by the bodies of the men who stood in front of her.
“But we thought….” interrupted Agent Connor.
The Commander shot Connor a look, causing the agents mouth to clasp closed immediately:
“Mrs Sheila Morris I presume?”
“Let me go! He’s just a child! Your man, Mr McKendry! He trusted me! He gave me a gun, so please just let me go.”
“Sir”, interceded Connor, “she could be anyone, sir. We haven’t had an ID on the first woman, and…”
“Sheila, I’m going to ask you a question now. Get it wrong or lie to me, then you are going nowhere except a cell!”
He leaned forward:
“Who is John’s father?”
Sheila stared wide eyed at him, as he pressed his ear against her mouth. She hesitated for one more second, before whispering, and then straightening up, looking at the Commander defiantly in the face.
“Let her through” said the commander, “and she’d better have her gun back.”
The soldiers holding Sheila’s arms let go as she pulled them free of their grasp and grabbed the gun from the outstretched hand of a young GI. Pausing only to give a quick ‘thank you’ to the Commander, she immediately sprang to a run and darted inside the walkway of the pier.
“Sir?” Agent Connor stared at his superior as though he did not quite recognise the man.
The Commander rested his hands on both his hips as he watched the figure of the woman disappear out of view:
“It’s out of our hands now Connor. I know she is who she says she is. That means that the first woman who was pursuing the kid was probably Maria.”
He sighed:
“Poor little bastard may well be dead already for all we know, in which case they’ve won. But the kids plucky so he could still be running or hiding, and if that’s the case then I don’t want a pile of soldiers with guns charging around on that pier firing away. It’s way too delicate.”
He turned and looked Connor in the face, as if still weighing up the stakes:
“No, it’s way too much of a risk to go in there. It’s gotta be up to Jim now, Connor. And what mother would risk the life of her kid, eh? No, Sheila Morris is gonna be much more use than we could be.”
“I don’t understand sir.”
“No, you won’t, and that’s fine. You don’t have to. Now, get on that radio. I want more troops down here! I want the entire town sealing off, and I want goddam boats out there in the sea!”
Connor turned to walk back to the car, leaving the Commander to his own thoughts; leaving him to think back to James McKendry’s mission. He knew about Operation Omaha, of course; all senior staff had been aware of it. He knew that the US had taken bloody vengeance on the evil doctors who had concocted the plague warfare experiments and had ultimately unleashed its atrocities on his own country. He even knew that McKendry had been one of the operatives.
What he didn’t know, until the day before, was what McKendry had discovered on that night in 1951 in Germany. What he didn’t know until McKendry had told him, was why he had spent the last few years under cover, in and out of Germany, ultimately leading him to a young AWOL German soldier named Johan, just a few months earlier. In his hospital bed, McKendry had explained it all to him.
The Commander thought back, and remembered his words:
“Jim, just start at the beginning will you. What did you find out during your mission in 1951?”
Central Pier, Blackpool
Her sprinted strides down the guest house steps hesitated as she became aware of the metallic voice shouting out the order:
“Halt! Drop your weapons!”
It took Sheila only a moment of confusion to understand that the order had been directed at her; her and the man that she was attempting to keep up with.
Sheila ignored the warning and carried on running across the pavement into the road, but at a more cautious pace; now unsure of herself and her safety, as she looked around at her immediate surroundings. Where had the voice come from? She saw no soldiers or pigs, only a collection of military vehicles seemingly parked haphazard all over the road, blocking it in both directions.
The man, McKendry, did not hesitate at all, but continued to rush across the wide promenade towards the structure of the pier that jutted out into the ocean beyond, and Sheila knew why.
She could see the disappearing form of her son, as he sprinted down the side of the pier, along a wooden walkway that ran between the large dance hall structure at the entrance and the rails that guarded against the sea. The fear pounded in her heart as she saw the woman who had threatened their lives in quick pursuit of John, and McKendry too must have seen them causing him to hesitate for not one moment in his chase. In that second, any doubts that Sheila still harboured that the man could harm her and her child were washed away as she realised that he would not stop until he had reached John; had saved John from the monster who chased him. He had no sense of danger, and she momentarily recalled how he had been ready to rush out of the guest house without her. It wasn’t her, Sheila that was important to him. She, she knew, was irrelevant in all of this. It was John.
It was all about John.
Sheila didn’t have time to contemplate what it meant; why the crazed blond woman was chasing her son. She didn’t have time to worry whether her friend, Dotty, was alive or dead in the back yard; didn’t have time to grieve for her son Brian, who she knew instinctively was dead. None of this could be processed in her head, as she continued to run across the road, trying to keep up with the American man. Some inner survival instinct had told her to lower the gun towards the floor as she continued to run, and she saw that the American had done the same. But he was not going to stop, and therefore, neither was Sheila.
She was only vaguely aware of 3 fast moving military style cars that quickly closed on their location as the metallic voice continued:
“Halt or we will open fire! Halt!”
The terrified mother looked to her right towards the source of the voice as she continued to run. This time she saw the shapes of heads, peering around the sides of vehicles; she saw the fleeting shadows moving in the thick privet hedges that separated the guest houses; she saw the hand held speaker that she surmised was the source of the commands; and she saw the rifles pointing in her direction.
Her steps again slowed, until she was barely running at all, her head swimming with confusion and fear as she looked around her and back to the still running form of the American as he stepped on to the wide pavement at the opposite side of the road.
The shots cracked through the air, and Sheila, legs still moving forward, as if of their own volition, winced, arms instinctively grabbing the top of her head. She heard the scream of the seagulls as a group broke free from the roof of the theatre to take flight, outraged at the disturbance. Sheila waited for the inevitable pain to hit her body, but it did not come. She could see a man, not too far from her, to the right shouting, “Ceasefire! Ceasefire! “through the open window of a moving car that was careering to a sudden halt.
She looked back towards the pier, as rough hands appeared from behind, grabbing her arms and bringing her to a sudden stop, and holding her tightly.
Commander Truman
The unit sergeant was shouting through his hand held loudhailer:
“I said ceasefire for God’s sake! Guns down. Guns down. Hold your fire!”
Agent Connor had leapt from the car just seconds after the Commander and was yelling:
“Ceasefire! Stop firing!”
The five or six soldiers who had taken up defensive positions at the entrance to the pier, around the ornate structures of the theatre, looked at the Comamnder with wide eyed alarm, slowly lowering their rifles. One of the soldiers was physically pulling the rifle from the hands of his colleague, shouting at him to lower his gun.
Commander Truman absorbed all of this as he stared at Agent McKendry.
McKendry did not stop. He did not falter for a single moment as he continued to run directly at the wooden walkway entrance onto the pier.
“Jim!” screamed the Commander, as his friend rushed directly past him.
McKendry’s stride did not break, as his head turned for a split second towards him. The Commander could see that the back of his head and shoulders were covered in blood; the white collar of his shirt now a crimson red. And through the blood that covered his face were his eyes. Eyes that held neither fear nor rage. Eyes that were simply determined. Eyes as hard as steel. Had he been shot? The Commander was dazed as he watched McKendry move. he felt that he was watching a machine or a ghost rather than a man. Rather than a mortal man.
“Let him through” he shouted, as he started to move towards the pier, realising as he did so, that it mattered not whether he gave the order, Jim was going through anyway.
Truman jogged towards the pier entrance and continued to watch in disbelief and wonder as McKendry reached the pier and ran along the walkway. Other than his blood soaked back, he appeared to be physically well and was running headlong without any kind of apparent impairment.
He glanced at the group of soldiers, some now standing with him, watching the figure disappear around the side of the theatre structure, into the centre of the pier:
“Good job you guys are lousy shots” he said to no soldier in particular, as he turned to deal with the commotion that was now taking place just few feet away. He did not hear as the GI, who just moments earlier had been disarmed, was speaking agitatedly to his friends:
“I got 3 pops off at the bastard. I swear I did! Red, you know what a goddam crack shot I am! I’m telling you, I whacked him three times in the chest!”
“And yet he’s still running” laughed his friend as he shook his head.
“Calm yourself down lady!” The Commander barked at the woman who was being restrained, before turning to the unit sergeant, who had made his way over the road to stand next to the struggling woman:
“Inside the guest house, Sergeant! Get it sealed off right away. All exits. I want a full report on who’s in there in two dam minutes!”
The soldier saluted and ran back to his unit that had gathered around the front of the guest house, barking orders as he appraised the pale and worried faces appearing at the windows of the dining room
“Connor, you’re in charge of these bozos here at the pier. But get on the wire. I need some more units down here. Seal this dam pier off. And I want a navy boat out there ASAP as well! No one comes in or out of this pier without my….”
“Let me through!” came the insistent pleading from the woman.
The Commander finally turned his attention to her:
“And you are?”
“I’m the boy’s mother! I need to be with him! Let me through!” she shouted as she struggled and tried to see the pier that was hidden by the bodies of the men who stood in front of her.
“But we thought….” interrupted Agent Connor.
The Commander shot Connor a look, causing the agents mouth to clasp closed immediately:
“Mrs Sheila Morris I presume?”
“Let me go! He’s just a child! Your man, Mr McKendry! He trusted me! He gave me a gun, so please just let me go.”
“Sir”, interceded Connor, “she could be anyone, sir. We haven’t had an ID on the first woman, and…”
“Sheila, I’m going to ask you a question now. Get it wrong or lie to me, then you are going nowhere except a cell!”
He leaned forward:
“Who is John’s father?”
Sheila stared wide eyed at him, as he pressed his ear against her mouth. She hesitated for one more second, before whispering, and then straightening up, looking at the Commander defiantly in the face.
“Let her through” said the commander, “and she’d better have her gun back.”
The soldiers holding Sheila’s arms let go as she pulled them free of their grasp and grabbed the gun from the outstretched hand of a young GI. Pausing only to give a quick ‘thank you’ to the Commander, she immediately sprang to a run and darted inside the walkway of the pier.
“Sir?” Agent Connor stared at his superior as though he did not quite recognise the man.
The Commander rested his hands on both his hips as he watched the figure of the woman disappear out of view:
“It’s out of our hands now Connor. I know she is who she says she is. That means that the first woman who was pursuing the kid was probably Maria.”
He sighed:
“Poor little bastard may well be dead already for all we know, in which case they’ve won. But the kids plucky so he could still be running or hiding, and if that’s the case then I don’t want a pile of soldiers with guns charging around on that pier firing away. It’s way too delicate.”
He turned and looked Connor in the face, as if still weighing up the stakes:
“No, it’s way too much of a risk to go in there. It’s gotta be up to Jim now, Connor. And what mother would risk the life of her kid, eh? No, Sheila Morris is gonna be much more use than we could be.”
“I don’t understand sir.”
“No, you won’t, and that’s fine. You don’t have to. Now, get on that radio. I want more troops down here! I want the entire town sealing off, and I want goddam boats out there in the sea!”
Connor turned to walk back to the car, leaving the Commander to his own thoughts; leaving him to think back to James McKendry’s mission. He knew about Operation Omaha, of course; all senior staff had been aware of it. He knew that the US had taken bloody vengeance on the evil doctors who had concocted the plague warfare experiments and had ultimately unleashed its atrocities on his own country. He even knew that McKendry had been one of the operatives.
What he didn’t know, until the day before, was what McKendry had discovered on that night in 1951 in Germany. What he didn’t know until McKendry had told him, was why he had spent the last few years under cover, in and out of Germany, ultimately leading him to a young AWOL German soldier named Johan, just a few months earlier. In his hospital bed, McKendry had explained it all to him.
The Commander thought back, and remembered his words:
“Jim, just start at the beginning will you. What did you find out during your mission in 1951?”
Central Pier, Blackpool
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