‘No, Jack … Mickey was in a right bad way when they found him, mind. Spent weeks in hospital, it was touch and go … but he pulled through.’

‘And the coppers …’

‘Were looking for you, aye, but that was years ago, man. You’d disappeared, and then what with Mickey doing so well out of it, I doubt he’d be in a mind to press charges now. He’d be too afraid of exposing his own dodgy operation to scrutiny. He won’t risk it.’

‘I didn’t kill him.’ The revelation left Jack dazed. The photograph in his breast pocket seemed to burn through to his chest. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

Ben held Jack’s shoulders. ‘No, man, you’ve done nothing wrong at all.’ He gave him a shake, then released him. ‘Jack, I’ve got to go … good luck out there.’

‘Aye … you be careful, Ben.’

‘Aye, you too, you soppy sod. And when this is over, you owe me a pint.’

They clapped each other’s backs, the gesture awkward with affection, and then Ben was gone, swallowed by the crowded soldiers. Jack almost convinced himself their reunion was nothing more than a figment of his wishful imagination, but then he spotted Ben’s retreating figure clambering up a metal ladder to the top deck, and he knew it was not.

‘Sergeant Ellison! Ready the men!’

His lieutenant’s hollered order brought him back to the present. He pushed away thoughts of home and in a heartbeat was a platoon sergeant once more. He gathered his men at the side of the ship. Waves surged against the hull, rocking it back and forth. From the beaches came the rapid rat-tat-tat of gunfire, punctuated by the deafening blasts of exploding mines. The ships around them retorted with the shuddering booms of their guns.

Jack yelled himself hoarse as he urged the men over the metal railings and onto the scramble net cloaking the ship’s side. He followed them down, his boots slipping on the wet rope as he descended towards the landing craft waiting on the tossing sea. When he was close enough he leapt onto the vessel’s deck and jostled for space with the men stood shoulder to shoulder around him. The landing craft powered forward, lifting and pitching as it crashed through the waves that reared up to greet it.

‘Jesus’

He could see the beaches clearly now. Sand jetted skywards in volcanic eruptions. German machine guns raked the shallows. Men stumbled and fell. Some rose to press on past the Czech hedgehogs scattered across the shore like giant jacks; some screamed for medics and mothers, while others fell forever silent. And through it all, tanks rolled off their transporters and rumbled forwards through the surf, steadily advancing towards the carnage. To Jack, the sight before him was the definition of chaos; it was the embodiment of hell.