by Jack Hayes
“Agreed,” Walker said.
“Speaking of which,” Maddox said, reaching down to grab a carton of hand grenades. “You can never have too many of these little beauties.”
“Captain Maddox,” a voice called through from the doorway that led out to the aerodrome.
A grizzled staff sergeant, who looked like he chewed thumb tacks for fun, cut across the conversation.
“They’re finished, if you’d like to make your way back to the plane.”
“Thank you, Cribbins,” Maddox said.
He took a deep inhalation through his nose, held it, and exhaled long and hard.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “Let’s go to work.”
CHAPTER 10
Kapteeni Aku Jouhki rested against his skiing poles and panted.
It was a disaster.
The Russians had seen through his attack and killed half of his men. Finland was losing ground to the Russians up here in the north and they simply didn’t have the resources to keep the Red Army at bay. In many ways, it had been a wonder that they’d held off their menace as well as they had.
But now, with supplies almost totally gone, it couldn’t be long before the government in Helsinki capitulated.
He stared out across the cliff at the endless landscape of trees and frozen lakes. The midnight sun had finally relented and bid the world goodnight.
“Be back, soon, my love,” he whispered.
He knew she would return in a bare few hours.
Truly, this was God’s own country.
The gentle susurration of his second-in-command whispered between the trees as he skied in close.
“Taking in the view?”
“Lamenting our failure today,” Jouhki replied. “We took a heavy toll for little gain.”
“We lost good men,” the sergeant replied, placing a hand on Jouhki’s shoulder. “But that’s the risk we all know every morning when we go out to fight.”
“And how do I explain that to Ros when I go home next?” Aku hissed. “I’m sorry – your brother died in a futile attack, outgunned in another suicidal assault under my command.”
“It wasn’t futile,” the sergeant said. “Eight men took on a Russian column and destroyed a tank. We have to consider it a victory.”
“A few more victories like that,” Jouhki replied, “and we’ll have lost this war for sure.”
The sergeant reached across and broke off a flake-like piece of bark from a nearby tree.
“I’ll get started on a fire,” he said. “We’ll need something hot to recoup our strength.”
“Warm food sounds good,” Jouhki replied. “We must have burnt off a lot of energy getting away from those Russians.”
“They were dogged in their pursuit,” the sergeant agreed. “Perhaps overly so.”
“Whoever’s commanding that column is a wily old bastard,” Jouhki said. “We need a new strategy if we’re going to catch him out.”
The sergeant sucked breath heavily through his teeth.
“If you want to have a second try at him,” he said, “there’s a lot to consider. We’re running low on heavy weapons ammunition, again. And if we’d had more explosives we might have taken out the front and back tanks at the same time. That would have made the difference this morning.”
“Resupply is always going to be a problem,” Jouhki said.
“What do you propose?”
Jouhki gazed across at the horizon, the last embers of orange disappeared now the sun had sunk out of sight.
“I think it’s time we riled the Germans,” he said. “Then we can get all the supplies we need.”
CHAPTER 11
Maddox was awakened by the tap of a boot against his own.
He opened a single eye.
Fallon.
“We’re nearly there?” he asked.
“Fifteen minutes out,” Fallon said. “Walker’s already got the others ready.”
“I felt like I only just went to sleep,” Maddox said.
“You did,” Fallon replied. “You spent ninety percent of the flight haranguing each of us to make sure we knew our jobs.”
Maddox smiled.
“Grab your parachute and we’ll be on our way,” he replied.
The inside of the de Havilland was bathed in the sombre red glow of a single bulb attached by the door.
Maddox had never enjoyed the hues these ‘jump lights’ cast around the inside of planes. Their dim rancour gave an unnatural pallor to the skin and accentuated the shadows in the lines of the face; even the merest glimmer of a worry line became visible as a crevice in a rock face.
And who, presented with the prospect of hurling themselves into the night over enemy territory, didn’t contain the tremor of doubt that they may not return home?
Maddox slung his parachute across his back and fastened the buckles across his body.
Soon enough, the bulb would go out. And a green one next to it would blink alive.
He smirked.
He didn’t like the green one any more than the red.
“That one actually confirms it’s time to hurl yourself into sky…” he muttered.
A pat on his arm.
Maddox glanced across.
Patterson.
“You alright?” his friend asked.
Maddox checked the buckles on his pack and moved on with his preparations.
“I’m fine,” he replied. “You?”
Patterson took long breath and nodded.
“What?” Maddox asked. “Pre jump nerves?”
“It’s not that,” Patterson replied.
The sergeant scratched his cheek uncomfortably, as though dragging his nails across his skin might rake the right phrasing to the surface of his mind.
“You do realise we haven’t got all day for you to spit it out?” Maddox said.
A smile crossed both their faces.
“I ran into Harold Jackson two days ago at SOE headquarters,” Patterson said.
“Jackson?” Maddox said. “That’s unusual. He’s Section 5. I knocked into McCallum earlier this evening – it was he who gave me the initial briefing for our current escapade.”
“I guessed as much,” Patterson nodded. “Which is why I thought I’d mention it. Five doesn’t often stick its nose around the SOE; the fact that there have been two of them in the building within a few days of one another is interesting.”
Maddox picked up his Sten and checked the bolt action worked smoothly. He dry fired the weapon. The correct sound of a hollow ‘clack’ was for an instant audible over even the plane’s relentless engines. Maddox stopped just before inserting a fresh magazine and looked Patterson square in the face.
“The stores robbery,” he said.
“You think?” Patterson asked, surprised. “That’s only a rumour.”
“But a persistent one,” Maddox replied.
“Unconfirmed,” Patterson rankled his nose. “I’ve not been able to find anyone who’s whispering that it’s true with certainty.”
“Really?” Maddox smiled. “I have.”
He slammed the magazine into the Sten. It clacked as it locked home. A good sound. A comforting sound. The sound of readiness to kill.
He nodded. Everything worked.
He removed the magazine.
There would be no jumping with a loaded gun this evening. The Sten was too troublesome a weapon to take that risk when landing in the snow.
“You old dog,” Patterson grinned.
“I got it from the stores’ orderly last week,” Maddox replied. “He said they ran inventory check and £10,000 in counterfeit German made Sterling notes had vanished from the lockers.”
Patterson pursed his lips and blew through them hard.
“Twenty-five years’ pay, tax free,” the sergeant said. “That’s a nice haul and no mistake.”
“But he was at pains to point out it was probably a clerical cock up,” Maddox replied. “He seemed to think the notes went to the Bank of England, where th
ey were incinerated.”
“Not likely,” Patterson said. “Not if Section 5 are wandering around the building.”
“Could be we’re taking one plus one and getting three,” Maddox shrugged. “It’s an awful lot of supposition.”
“Bloody East End gangster tea leaves,” Patterson muttered. “The spivs would raid anywhere for a profit – never mind that circulating those counterfeit bills into the economy does the Germans’ dirty work for them.”
Maddox tucked the full Sten magazine in his outside pocket, so it could be quickly inserted as soon as he landed.
“Steady,” he chastened. “Some of us call the East End home.”
“Sorry, Captain,” Patterson grinned. “No disrespect intended to those of our fraternity who have East End gangster familial connections.”
Maddox gave a half smile.
“None taken,” he said. “And when we get back, we might be glad of my distant cousins. They might be able to tip us the nod on the veracity of our theory.”
A cold blast of air roared through the fuselage as Walker opened the plane’s side door. The chill stung Maddox’s face and flicked his hair into his eyes. He clipped the Sten in place, locking it to his uniform for the jump, and yanked on the straps to ensure it was firmly attached. He then fought against the wind to make his way to the front of the parachute queue.
Firmly gripping the door frame, Maddox took a glimpse outside.
The sun had ducked below the horizon and the sky was enjoying its brief few hours of true darkness. Even though it was summer, the air temperature was bitter. Tears formed in the corner of Maddox’s eyes. As they trickled across his cheeks, he could feel them beginning to freeze.
Below, thousands of miles of conifer forests wrapped themselves around rough, stone mountains, snow-laden plateaus and frost covered lakes.
“No wonder the Russians struggled to take this place,” he thought.
He turned back to his team.
Seven men, lined up and ready: Walker, Sledge, Shield, Conley stood alert, each gripping an equipment canister that contained the vital things they’d need on the ground but that were too dangerous for them to pack in their kit bags.
Behind them, Patterson, Marlowe and Fallon – Maddox’s regular squad – leaned out from the queue so that they could hear him.
“Okay, men,” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the buffeting air funnelled in through the door. “Take it nice and easy, nothing heroic. We land, we bury our canopies and we rendezvous at the coordinates you’ve all memorized. It’s wilderness out here so the chances of running into anyone are slim. If you do, hide and avoid. Do not engage.”
The red light went ominously black.
The next few seconds seemed much longer than they were. In his chest, Maddox could feel his heart pounding faster.
He glanced out the door once more.
The forest appeared darker and the distance to the earth further than it had before.
Green bulb flickered on.
He turned to Walker.
“Go!” he commanded.
CHAPTER 12
As the company of Finns skied out from the tree line, Nieder pulled his glove off and clicked his fingers. There was a trampling of boots; ten German soldiers took up positions around the camp.
Nieder watched as two of his men ducked down next to Lieutenant Beck, using the collection of sluices for cover. Beck ignored them and continued walking along the wooden troughs, occasionally swirling his hands into the rough detritus from the mine to ensure more even washing of the dirt.
More soldiers jogged passed the lieutenant. The sounds of their heavy steps were drowned by the churning generator, occasional puffs of exhaust rising from its vibrating hulk.
As the Nazi soldiers aligned their weapons. Nieder returned his attention to the Finns. With the Germans soldiers in place, Aku Jouhki issued a hand gesture to his men, who spread out. Both sides warily regarded one another.
The Finnish captain continued across the open ground on his own.
“You should be careful, major,” Jouhki said, thrusting his ski poles firmly into the snow as he came to a halt at the base of the scree slope to the mine. “Having your men take up an attacking formation upon our approach could be misconstrued. We are, after all, supposed to be on the same side.”
In the background, the hum of the generator continued unabated.
Beck could be heard directing the Russian labourers to shovel the gravel from the long sluices across to the heavy grease-belt that the motor was turning.
Nieder walked down the talus slope to greet Jouhki.
“We are, indeed, on the same side,” the German replied. “Which begs the question of why our most recent food and munitions convoy was ransacked on the way to resupply us?”
The Finnish captain smiled sardonically.
“We’re behind enemy lines here,” he replied. “I’m sure they got picked off by the Russians.”
“And yet,” Nieder peered over Jouhki’s shoulder, “your men look remarkably well fed and their weapons seem full of ammunition.”
“We know how to live off the land,” Jouhki said. “And – as for our ammunition – our ambush raids allow us to expend it judiciously. The rest, we lift from Russian corpses.”
The Finn pointed to the bodies of the Russian labourers, half hidden by a light dusting of snow that had fallen overnight.
“We certainly don’t waste it,” he continued.
Nieder’s jaw hardened.
“You’re just four men, I see,” the German sneered. “Weren’t there eight of you last time you dropped by?”
The smile dipped from Jouhki’s lips. The loss of his men raiding the Russian infiltrators was still painfully fresh in his mind.
“I sent the others scouting,” Jouhki lied. “They’ve brought me some interesting news.”
“Really?”
“There’s a mobile column of Russians on its way,” Jouhki said. “We did our best to thin their ranks but I suspect they may be looking for you. There’s no other reason for them to push this far from the main thrust on their own.”
“How many tanks and men?”
“Five vehicles remain,” Jouhki said. “We took care of one other for you. We haven’t the heavy weaponry to hit them again.”
Nieder turned and surveyed briefly the defences of his camp. He knew them well enough but a quick reappraisal reminded him of their vulnerability in their present layout.
“I will radio for reinforcements,” Nieder said, his voice deepening.
Jouhki pulled his ski poles out of the ground. He glanced across once more at the bodies of the dead Russian labourers, piled by the scree; something troubled him. His eyes narrowed.
The soles of the shoes of each corpse were still visible, sticking out through the covering of white powder.
Two pairs were unmistakably the tattered remains of Red Army issued boots.
But the third…
Nokians?
Only Finns wore those…
A pause.
“All is fine here?” Jouhki asked. “Apart from the impending arrival of the Russians?”
“Progress is being made,” Nieder replied.
“And the boy you were connected with to find the mine, Aatami, he is well?”
At the sluice, Beck stopped sifting through the sand. The lieutenant slowly began to move his hand down closer towards his pistol, lazily clamped to his hip.
“Aatami has done sterling work for us,” Nieder said curtly.
“I have a message for him from his parents,” Jouhki said.
“He’s busy,” Nieder replied. “He’s overseeing work in the mine.”
“Of course, of course,” Jouhki nodded and pursed his lips. “Tell him his parents miss him.”
“I will,” Nieder replied. “And I’m sure he’ll thank you for passing along the message – just as we do for warning us of the Russians. Have no fear; Germany will surely authorize more men to come up here to gua
rd this project. Additional forces will no doubt arrive tomorrow.”
“No doubt,” Jouhki replied. “Well, we’ll come back then. Perhaps if you have anything spare, you will share. After all, as we’ve agreed, we are on the same side.”
The Finn began to back away, grateful that if a fire fight were to break out, he at least had three men ready to provide him with cover – and, for all Nieder knew, the rest of his team in place in the trees.
“Certainly,” Nieder hissed. “And this time, they’d better not get ambushed on their way to me or you may find your reception less warm upon your return.”
CHAPTER 13
Maddox reeled his parachute cords in and stuffed the silk into a tight ball.
His feet sank a few inches into the snow with every footstep. Although one of the equipment drums had only fallen a few hundred yards away, it would be heavy going to reach the nearest. Hopefully, it was the one containing the skis; otherwise it would be even tougher going finding the other three in the dark.
They might have to wait the few hours to daylight.
And somewhere out here in the black were three different kinds of foe: Germans, Finns and Russians.
Although the Soviets were technically on the same side as the other Allies, Maddox had had enough experience with their teams that he was in doubt that their compact was more a marriage of convenience than one of love.
“The enemy of my enemy is just someone biding their time to stab me in the back.”
Maddox stopped briefly.
A shiver ran down his spine.
His eyes narrowed.
It was cold, sure, but he had a deep sense of foreboding.
He scanned the snowline.
Nothing.
“Russians, Germans and Finns,” he hissed.
He unclipped his Sten and trudged across to the equipment drum.
***
Aku Jouhki lay in the snow and silently extended his gun out along the ground. A collection of sapling spruces that were springing through the ground vacated by the fallen trunk of an old conifer provided him with a measure of camouflage.
He didn’t recognise the uniforms of these soldiers.
Strange.
They certainly weren’t German or Russian – were they off course members of the Norwegian resistance?
The leader of the team drew nearby and halted.