Chapter 8
L izzie had swum long distances in the Channel many times, but never at night as a lone agent on a mission to infiltrate Nazi-occupied territory.
Every fibre of her being was on high alert, and she must use that power in a measured way, not burn through her energy by feeding her fear, which would quickly turn into panic.
She swam breaststroke to avoid the sounds of splashing and kept her eyes fixed on the silhouette of the rocky coastline ahead.
Patches of light shimmered in the sky as she swam, and she imagined herself reaching her destination.
Lizzie took smooth, powerful strokes, her legs kicking underwater, so they made no noise. She controlled her breathing and paced herself as although it wasn’t far by daytime standards, one error could prove deadly in these dangerous conditions.
They chose the deepest part of the night, when German lookouts and shore patrol were predicted to be at their least alert.
The water was at its coldest, but the darkness offered the best cloak of cover for her to get to shore without anyone spotting her, whilst also providing sufficient light to navigate the treacherous coastline.
One pouch flapped against her bare skin, and she flinched and gasped. Her chest was tight, and her muscles burned as she pushed through the cold swell, and the choppy waves lifted and tossed her towards the black rocks.
Lizzie summoned all her strength to fight the tides pulling her towards the rocks.
Her breathing grew more laboured, and she didn’t seem to be making progress.
She had heard stories of swimmers meeting a terrible end, mostly when her grandmother had been trying to instil in her the need for caution when she was younger.
Suddenly, a powerful wave swept Lizzie away from the rocks and towards the cove.
The sounds of the crashing waves filled her ears, and she told herself she would soon be on dry ground and the fear rushing through her would subside.
Just as she was treading water near a clump of sharp rocks, catching her breath and calculating her last moves to reach her haven, a powerful beam cut through the dark and lit up the area nearby.
Lizzie took a deep breath and plunged her head under the cold salty water.
Her daring mission would be over before she reached the shore if the German night watch detected anything unusual in their search.
What fuelled her determination to succeed even more than the risk to her own life and failure of her mission was that the submarine would still be relatively close, and the crew be an immediate target if she were captured.
It would be obvious she hadn’t swum all this way alone, and the German military would make their deductions.
She couldn’t stay under for long in the freezing night waters but aimed to give the beam enough time to pass.
Lizzie surfaced quietly, barely daring to breathe but desperate for air to fill her lungs.
Her hand grasped the slippery rock, and seaweed clawed at her foot making her shudder.
She mustn’t let her imagination get away with her, but this was the most frightening swim she’d ever done.
Just as she thought she was free, a strap of a waterproof pouch snagged on something beneath the water, and she was hampered to the spot unable to break free.
Struggling, she ducked back under the water and groped beneath the depths for the strap, finally releasing herself.
Rising to the surface again, darkness concealed her like a cloak, and she allowed herself to catch her breath. Still clinging to the rock, she took a moment to decide whether to make a break for it or stay hidden in case another round of searchlights swept the entrance to the port.
By now she was so cold she was beginning to shake. There was only so much the lanolin could protect her from hypothermia when she wasn’t moving, and she must get warm soon or suffer dire consequences.
There was no choice if she was to make it.
Lizzie summoned all her strength and pushed off the slimy rock, and swam towards the small cove the SOE had marked as her safest infiltration point.
It was big enough for her to locate but small enough not to be guarded, but this was the moment where her life or death hung in the balance.
She took smooth measured strokes as she approached St. Malo. The ancient city walls rose into view in the distance against the inky black sky, illuminated only by a sliver of the crescent moon.
The crash of waves filled Lizzie’s senses as she neared the shore trying not to pant loudly but struggling to breathe.
Thinking about what would happen if the patrol caught her, heightened her fears but she turned her thoughts to Jack who always protected her from near or far.
She imagined what he’d say to keep her going.
You can do it, Seagrove. You’ve been swimming in the Channel your whole life. There’s no better person for the job. This is your mission.
His imaginary words lifted her spirits. Her story wasn’t over, and she must make it out alive.
She thought about the millions who were fighting the war in impossible circumstances.
Her brother’s face popped into her mind.
If she could discover the plans for Hitler’s coastal fortifications, Val said it would be a definitive step towards the Allied invasion.
They might not be able to stop the Germans fortifying Europe, but they would be able to gauge their weak spots.
A surge of determination flared within Lizzie as she struggled on against the violent force of the tide that seemed to be working with all its might to toss her back out to sea like a discarded doll.
She had come this far, and she would not be defeated.
Not by the tides and not by the bloody Boche.
St. Malo was her cousins’ place of birth, and she would help them claim it back.
With that defiant thought, she clawed her way through the foaming surf and kept the vision in her mind of the little cove where she had enjoyed so many lovely picnics with her family.