I never told you about Gloria, didI?

“I never told you about Gloria, did I?” said Ian Campbell to his daughter Angela. The question hung in the warm summer air while my wife and I exchanged bemused looks. “No, Dad” she said, “but you can tell us now”. There was a pause as Ian looked distantly ahead. “I never felt I really did enough during the war” he continued, “I worked mainly with the Dutch, you see.”

We had just returned to our house from lunch with our charming neighbours, Pierre and Janine. During the last couple of hours the conversation had turned to the wartime activities of the French maquis in the local Quercy area, where we spend much of our summers. My father-in-law, who had just turned 92, was staying with us and was now drifting into a pleasantly relaxed and reminiscent mood. Although he spoke very little French, he had managed to get the drift of the lunchtime conversation with a little help from my wife. Ian had lost his wife Joyce some two years earlier and had become fairly reticent, so the unheralded announcement regarding Gloria and the Dutch caught us by surprise.

“I probably should have told you before now” he continued “but you see, I never even told Joyce.” By now, he had our full attention. Neither of us had ever heard him mention Gloria or the Dutch before and the brief comments he had just made promised an intriguing story. I poured a little more wine and we settled in our chairs under the shade of our large mulberry umbrella tree to hear what promised to be a sort of late confession.

“I suppose it all began in 1942 when I went to the recruiting office in Brighton and said I wanted to join the Navy. They gave me a medical examination and said everything seemed OK and they’d let me know. I never heard another thing from them.

At the time I was living in Angmering and had my own timber business in Catford which I bought for £110 including all the stock. It was originally one railway arch and then grew to occupy four arches. Later on I bought a second place in Hastings and a third in Brighton. The timber business at that time was all licensed. We used to get a lot of government inspectors and a lot of crooks looking into the business. Two of them came down to one of my branches one time and helped themselves. All timber was only available under permits, which involved a hell of a lot of paperwork. I had an estate near Crawley where I used to cut timber and also store imported timber for the government. There were a lot of crooks about at that time and everyone seemed to be trying to find out about the other persons business. What with one thing and another I was kept pretty busy, but being refused for the Navy was a real blow and they never told me why.

A few months passed — in fact a year passed and I had a letter from someone saying they’d like to meet me in London. I assumed it was about the timber business as people from the ministry were always sticking their noses in to see that no one was fiddling. I phoned the number I was given and this chap gave me an address for the meeting and we agreed a date. I used to go up to London by train because of the petrol rationing. I often travelled with two London dentists and another businessman. They always managed to get the topic of conversation on to conscientious objectors with an occasional pointed glance at me. Also it wasn’t much fun to hear snide remarks made about me being in civilian clothes. This used to really get up my nose, as I still wanted to join the Navy.

The address I had been given for the meeting turned out to be a large office over a bookshop in North London. I said I’d come for an appointment. The chap, whose name I forget, was very nice and started off by saying that they were in a business that was allied to the timber trade. But that was just a front. He soon came straight to the point of the meeting. He asked if I would be prepared to serve the country by carrying messages to people. The work would involve travelling, which I was used to anyway, and was of national importance, which would require me to operate under the Official Secrets Act. There would also be a certain amount of travelling by boat, which appealed to me, as I have always loved the sea. It all seemed like a bit of fun to me, so I agreed right away. It wouldn’t be a problem as far as Joyce was concerned, as she was used to my frequent travelling and staying up in London for a few days at a time. All in all, it seemed like a bit of an adventure with little risk. A 'cushy' number and at least I'd be 'doing my bit'.

Some time later another man who was to be my link with the ministry contacted me. I forget his name too - must be old age. He arranged to meet me at Victoria station. He was a courier and was always in plain clothes. I don’t know if it was his real name but I always called him Charlie. He gave me instructions to go to Felixstowe and get on a certain boat. I always had a password for each trip I made together with the name of the Captain of the boat I was to travel in and a message I was to deliver. These messages were sometimes verbal but mainly written.

I started the trips in 1943 and they ran for about 18 months. I stayed with my father’s sister in Beaufort Street, Chelsea where she always left the key hanging inside the letterbox as did everyone else. I often didn’t see her but she knew I had been there because I ate some of the food. I was given a ticket to catch a train to Felixstowe, if there was one at a suitable time, where I met with the English fishing boat captain and always used the password for the day. Some times we used other ports in Suffolk and Essex — even quite small ones. If there were no convenient train I would be driven to the port and met on my return. The car I think was usually a Hillman. It was not always the same boat.

The journey to the meeting point in the Channel was about three hours, so on short trips I could often be back in bed before dawn. I was told to wear just old clothes — not to dress up.
We would meet up and I would transfer to the Dutch boat and give a package to the Captain who was frequently a chap called Ralf I think. I never knew what was in the package but I believe it was mainly about arms drops for the Dutch underground. Sometimes I got a return message, which I would have to deliver in person to London.
I did a total of about 20 to 24 trips mostly going by English boat to a rendezvous in mid channel, or a bit closer to England. On six or seven occasions I went all the way into Rotterdam.

I did a trip every 3 to 4 weeks and these tailed off towards the end of the war, as the Dutch underground was no longer needed. I knew there was another man doing the same thing but I never met him. There were a couple of women among the people who gave me instructions.
When I went to Rotterdam I would stay at the Captains house, which was three doors away from Gestapo headquarters. This was a bit worrying and I didn’t get much sleep. It would be difficult to explain to Joyce if I had been captured. In the morning the rest of the crew would gather outside the house and the Skipper and I would join them and go as a gang to the boat. The sentries outside Gestapo Headquarters would acknowledge us with a nod. Generally the Germans were quite friendly with the Dutch fishermen as they supplied the Germans with fish. They never bothered much with them.

On one occasion when I had only just transferred to a Dutch boat we were stopped by an E-boat that boarded us to ask the Captain some questions. When they were approaching, the Captain said ‘Right boy, you in with ze fish’ and they stuck me in the fish hold with tons of fish for what seemed like an age. I could hear the German bastard upstairs asking questions. I clearly heard him asking the Captain ‘Where is that man that got off the other boat?’ The Captain said he didn’t understand, so they searched the boat. I stank of fish after that — it’s a good job I was on my way to Holland that night and not on the way back home. Another time a U-boat surfaced quite close to us but never came on board. There were a lot of boats in the channel in those days. I remember another occasion when I was on an English boat and an E-boat warned us not to come any closer but to go back towards England.
As the war went on, the frequency of the trips I made diminished until I heard nothing more from my contacts. I never even had a thank you from anyone. It wasn't much that I did, but a thank you would have been nice.

The worst night of my life was getting a phone call one evening from Joyce accusing me of having an affair with Gloria. I went cold, as that was the code name for that particular night’s operation. Someone had phoned her, asking after me, and said ‘and how is Gloria?’ When she said she didn’t know anyone by that name he said ‘I thought you knew that’s where he stays’. At that time she was fairly highly strung as she had just given birth to Susan and what with two other children and the various strictures of the war, she was pretty excitable. I said I didn’t even know anyone called Gloria and someone was having her on. I didn’t know whether or not I would lose her, but I eventually managed to convince her that I wasn’t hanging about with another woman.

I reported this incident to my contact and they said it could be one of three suspects. Someone was obviously on the inside to be able to get the codeword. Personally I suspected a chap I was doing some timber business with who owed me money. I was at that time putting pressure on him for payment. He was a queer sort of fellow and could well have been a spy for the Germans. The funny thing is that shortly after the incident he completely disappeared and was never seen again. What is more I never got my money!

Having put Joyce’s mind to rest about Gloria, I forgot the incident and carried on with further trips. After the war, when the Official Secrets Act which I had taken expired, it somehow didn’t seem right to tell Joyce about things as she would never have understood why I didn’t tell her at the time — we never kept secrets from one another."

Floirac 46600, France. June 2003

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