James Bond's Boyhood Adventures 10

By Pueros

(With thanks to Erik for some of the original ideas behind this saga.)

Chapter 10 – Cells

(Jersey, Channel Islands, July 1941)

It was the penultimate day of term, with the long summer holidays imminent. However, few of the pupils at St. Helier High School for Boys looked forward as much as they used to do to the vacations because of unhappiness at, and the now very severe restrictions caused by, the German occupation.

James, David and Moneypenny were currently attending, or perhaps more correctly suffering, their last science lesson of the academic year. The now 14 years old boys normally enjoyed the subject, but not when Mr. Boothroyd was discussing biology. All three considered the current topic, the cellular structure of plants, to be especially boring. The young trio was instead presently much more interested in different types of cells, namely those applicable to spies and resistance workers because they all now belonged to such an entity.

The war had gone poorly for the British after Moneypenny had secretly met Helmut eight months earlier, although the two facts were, of course, unconnected. The secret liaison between the German soldier and the pretty red-haired boy had been regularly repeated since, although who was truly involved in treacherous collaboration with whom was a moot point, with the truth only revealing itself with time.

Despite victory in the Battle of Britain, many cities, including London and Coventry, had subsequently been badly hit by Luftwaffe blitzkrieg. In the capital, eight of Christopher Wren’s great churches had been burnt down by incendiary bombs, whereas, in the Midlands metropolis, the ancient cathedral had been destroyed. Domestic hardship was compounded by the introduction of clothes rationing, although public morale on the mainland remained high.

Early British successes against the Italians in North Africa had been reversed by the arrival of Rommel with his Afrika Korps. Yugoslavia and Greece, including Crete, had been successfully conquered by German forces. The pride of the Royal Navy, HMS Hood, had been sunk by one of the first salvos from the Bismarck, although somewhat fortuitous revenge was subsequently swiftly secured.

On the plus side, a significant part of the Italian fleet had been crippled by the Fleet Air Arm at Taranto and subsequently routed by surface ships at Cape Matapan. President Roosevelt had signed the Lease and Lend Bill, to provide beleaguered Britain with vital supplies. Rudolf Hess, deputy German Fuhrer had also rather mysteriously parachuted into Scotland.

Perhaps the most important event, however, occurred on the 22nd of June 1941 when the Germans launched Operation Barbarossa against the USSR. Whilst, James, David and Moneypenny were enduring their lesson about plant cells, fierce fighting was taking place on the Russian front around Smolensk, an occurrence they would eventually learn about from the lips of a witness.

James, with younger brother John, now 12 years old, David and Moneypenny had kept abreast of many of the happenings in this increasingly terrible war by virtue of listening furtively, with their families, to BBC radio broadcasts. The boys and their parents indulged despite the fact that the Germans had decreed that anyone caught doing so would be shot.

The young quartet also gained further insight into events from the newest recruit to their Jersey Resistance Movement, or ‘Jerm’, namely Mr., or more appropriately Lieutenant, Boothroyd, secretly of the British Special Operations Executive, or SOE. The supposed science teacher had additionally taught the boys not only a number of spying and sabotage techniques but also how to use some of his amazing gadgets. The man’s imaginative mind constantly dreamt up a wide array of contraptions, not always successful, to assist their particular war efforts.

Boothroyd’s bicycle was the most interesting of his contraptions. There was a small motor in the saddlebag that sat on top of the rear wheel mudguard. This provided extra propulsion for any necessary attempt at a quick escape from a particular scene. Another bag, under the horizontal mainframe bar, contained various espionage paraphernalia, including note and code books, local maps, exceptionally powerful binoculars, a special pen, for other purposes as well as writing, a little but lethal handgun and some small sticks of dynamite.

The bicycle’s water bottle, fitted to the vertical handlebar frame, was actually a very effective chemical generator of smoke, to facilitate flight in precarious situations. The front and tail lamps, now illegal to use for illumination at night because of the blackout, were actually furtive cameras to supplement the one on the Lieutenant’s kite. The top of the substantial saddle lifted to reveal an experimental Morse radio, exceptionally diminutive but nevertheless exceedingly powerful for the era. However, the amenity that most impressed the younger members of ‘Jerm’ was the extra use to which the horizontal mainframe bar had been put, for it doubled as a rifle, somehow capable of firing bullets towards the front or rear, and incongruously activated by the vehicle’s bell.

As well as the bicycle and the kite, Boothroyd possessed so many other espionage devices in the garden shed of his cottage home, some still embryonic on the man’s workbench, that James, John, David and Moneypenny privately abandoned the science teacher’s original nickname of ‘Sparky’. Henceforth, he was affectionately known to the boys as the ‘Quartermaster’, which quickly became abbreviated as ‘Q’.

Boothroyd had initially restricted his young assistants to what he considered safe missions, not wanting to endanger young lives. In fact, for this reason, he probably would have originally preferred to do without the boys’ help completely. However, they had been so insistent and shown such competence that he had succumbed to enlisting their aid, which he quickly found indispensable for the proficient fulfillment of his duties.

James, John, David and Moneypenny now frequently, in their spare time and whenever the local curfews and other restrictions permitted, toured their island on their own bicycles to identify, and report back to Boothroyd, activities of the occupying German forces. They would suggest areas that Q himself should investigate and perhaps report back to London, or even seek to disrupt.

The younger and older members of ‘Jerm’ sadly recognised that their compatriots on the British mainland had been forced to consider the Channel Islands as being of only marginal importance to the overall war effort. This somber but inevitable attitude had arisen despite the fact that the isles represented the only British territory to be occupied by the Nazis, something the latter, particularly their leader, Adolf Hitler, gloated about. However, James, John, David and Moneypenny were determined to do their bit to help Q to keep London informed about, and possibly sabotage, German actions on their particular island, hoping that somehow this might bring the humiliating unhappy occupation to a speedier end.

The three 14 years olds and one 12 years olds were not put off by the fact that the war was going so badly for their side, having faith instead in Churchill’s words, addressed to President Roosevelt in a public radio broadcast of the previous February. “Give us the tools,” the Prime Minister had asked of the great American leader, “and we shall finish the job!” However, the boys’ faith might have wavered a little if they had realised how long ‘the job’ would take to finish, and what suffering would be encountered on the way, for them personally, their fellow islanders and others.

James, John, David and Moneypenny instead currently anticipated being kept very busy in the summer months ahead, as their little, very young espionage cell assisted Q’s secret and highly dangerous work.

All knew that capture would undoubtedly be fatal, a fate that would probably be preceded by sufferings far worse than death itself.

(Dinard, France, later that night)

The uniformed off-duty Wehrmacht corporal approached his apparently lonely colleague, the sole guard of the German E-boat moored to Dinard’s quayside. The crew was somewhere in the town, enjoying the mainly begrudging hospitality of many bars.

“On your own?” asked the corporal, seemingly on a late evening stroll along the waterfront, in seamless German. “Yes,” replied the Wehrmacht private gloomily, “as everyone else is out enjoying himself.”

“Never mind,” the corporal sympathetically responded, “as I’ve got something that might change your attitude.” “A cigarette?” enquired the private hopefully. “Not quite,” his supposed compatriot replied, just as another’s right palm engulfed the guard’s mouth and a knife, held in the attacker’s left hand, expertly and mercilessly pieced the man’s back, immediately causing instantly fatal damage to key organs.

Once the Wehrmacht guard’s dead body had fallen to the floor, Felix Leiter, dressed in his former false role, saw his beloved Jean’s gorgeous frame come into view in the moonlight. The now 17 years old eunuch, fellow member of the local, proficiently revived, resistance cell, carried a bloody knife in his left hand. Neither he nor his older American lover who, despite his nationality, was currently a member of the British SOE like Q, could afford any compassion for the man just killed. Along with many millions of others, they were, after all, enduring the worst war in history, one in which many innocents would die, including soldiers who were only trying to fight for their homeland and had no involvement in atrocities.

Shortly afterwards, the Germans had one less E-boat in their fleet, as a few sticks of well-place dynamite carried the nearby vessel to the bottom of Dinard harbour.

(Near Smolensk, U.S.S.R., same time)

Yuri was of simple peasant stock. To some, the blonde blue-eyed boy’s beauty, intelligence and bravery seemed to belie such a humble background. To others, the 12 years old’s attributes just reinforced the superiority of the masses over the elite. To the wise, the youngster’s characteristics exemplified the resilience of the whole human race.

Depite his tender years, the boy had joined the local Russian partisan cell, which worked behind enemy lines to try to disrupt and sabotage the Germans’ seemingly inexorable advance towards Moscow. The resistance group valued the 12 years old’s age and diminutive size, particularly as it came with exceptional elusive speed, because it made him an unlikely but excellent courier, someone they hoped the Nazis would not suspect of playing such a role.

Unfortunately for Yuri, use by the many partisan groups of youngsters in this manner had become frequent since the beginning of the German invasion a month earlier. The S.S., who accompanied the Wehrmacht, had not only become wise to the ploy but also specifically looked out for such potential messengers. As a result, many Russian boys were tortured and shot throughout the war simply because of suspicion that they may be helping the partisans, with few members of the Schutzstaffel worrying about making mistakes.

Yuri had come to learn of this enemy attitude and practice but realisation did not cause the brave boy a moment’s hesitation in carrying out his perilous missions through German-occupied territory, not far from the besieged Smolensk. The 12 years old’s courage, and conviction that he was doing right, did not even waver after he was shot in the head and captured by an S.S. patrol on the outskirts of a village he had to traverse to reach his destination.

Yuri had first been told to "Halt!", but he desperately wanted to evade capture, not for his own sake but for that of the piece of paper, conveying an important coded message, which he was carrying. However, the boy’s attempt to escape was thwarted when the bullet grazed the side of his skull, causing him to collapse unconscious to the ground, despite otherwise only suffering a flesh wound. The S.S. member who had fired the successful shot was actually aiming not to kill but to render immobile so that the 12 years old could be interrogated. However, the youngster’s rapid movements whilst attempting flight had caused the man’s aim to stray and almost mean the demise of the victim.

The clear evidence that Yuri was a partisan courier, in the form of the coded message, was quickly found on the boy’s grimy, disheveled, unconscious body, which was soon being dragged back to the local S.S. mobile headquarters. How long the 12 years old would now live normally entirely depended on how long he took to confess all he knew. His captors had various methods to ensure that the youngster would not be silent or untruthful for long.

(To be continued in chapter 11 – ‘Summer’)