by Thomas Wood
I took a sip of my milk, praying that if I drank enough of the stuff then at the very least the headache that had been plaguing me for days would finally lift, and that I would be able to think unhindered.
“Yes, I’m sure they will. Which is why I need your help Louis and to do it without Joseph knowing would be ideal.”
He took a few minutes to think it all through, time that I took to hope that all my weeks of being nice to him and humouring him would begin to pay off in the biggest way possible. I knew what I was asking him to do could result in him being shot, if not by the Germans, then by Joseph himself, who would undoubtedly be furious that Louis had undermined him by mobilising his troops.
His fury would not just be directed at Louis individually, as he had warned me never to contact him or his people again, after he had told me of my new assignment. I could not think of anyone else to contact however, and Louis seemed so happy to help that I almost forgot about Joseph’s embargo on my communications with him.
“When would you be needing us? What time are they coming to get you?”
“Tonight. Two in the morning is the time I was given. Do you think you can do that?”
“It doesn’t leave me so much time. But I will do everything that I can for you.”
We sat in a silence after that, comforted once again with one another’s company and presence, but I spent the whole time desperately wanting to leave, to get back to Rudolf and check that he was still alive. But I knew I couldn’t, I owed it to Louis to stay with him a while, to allow him to mull things over in his mind and ask any questions that he might have.
I took a quick glance at my watch. Nine forty-five. I would need to get a move on and so would Louis. To try and spur him into action, I downed the last of my tepid milk and got up to leave.
“I must go now, Louis. Thank you for everything.”
I held out my hand to shake his and looked deep into his eyes, to ensure that he was convinced of my heartfelt thanks to him. He looked back up at me and I realised that he had been crying in the silence, contemplating everything that was going on in that mind of his.
“I will see you in England one day, Alf?”
“Of course, Louis. You can come and stay with me, your wife and son also.”
“Thank you, thank you,” he repeated, his voice trailing off as the tears caught him in the back of his throat. He sniffled and wiped the back of his hand briskly across his weeping nose and looked up at me once more.
“If I don’t make it…I mean, if something bad does happen…” his mumbles became inaudible as he succumbed to the tidal wave of tears that had started to gush down his cheeks.
“I will come and get them, Louis. They will come to England.”
He nodded gently as he pursed his lips, trying to pull himself together and not lose face in front of me. I thought no less of the man as he stood there sobbing. He had far more to lose in this war than someone like me, and here I was, practically demanding that he gives up at best his freedom, or at worst, his life, in order to help me and an enemy officer to get to England.
Louis eventually took my hand and shook it gently, before pulling me into a brotherly embrace that he held for some time. I desperately didn’t want to involve him in any of the following events, but he was the only man that I could turn to, the only person that I knew I could trust in this part of France. In fact, I trusted him more with my life than I did Jimmy right now.
Finally, he broke off the hug and began scurrying around his kitchen once more, bundling things together and starting to clean up. I made for the door, preparing to leave and begin sneaking around France finding my way back to Rudolf, who I hoped was still in exactly the same place as I had left him.
“Alf,” he called, just as I was leaving the house for the final time, “this is for you…for both of you.”
He passed me a bag, stuffed full of bread and cheese to help us while away the last few hours in France, and to do it on a full stomach. I was in awe of the man who had sacrificed a great deal already as a result of this war, to be so humble as to offer up some of his provisions for an enemy soldier that he had not even met. I was only a little disappointed that he hadn’t managed to sneak a glass or two of milk into the bag.
I stared at him for a moment or two more, before nodding appreciatively.
“Goodbye Louis.”
“Bon Chance, Alf.”
* * *
We gorged on the cheese and the bread as if there was no tomorrow, because in all honesty, there was no certainty that there would be for either of us. I failed to see how a plane was going to land in what was a relatively small field, in enemy occupied land, before taking off again undetected. It seemed completely impossible to me and even more preposterous to Rudolf, now utterly convinced that we would both die.
He could not see the logic in sacrificing us both when he claimed to have vital intelligence for the British. He had made his thoughts well known, he knew that there was a plethora of ways to pull someone out of this country, as he had been the one that had done most of the tracking down over the last few months to discover the ways people were escaping. This one seemed totally doolally to him.
I was inclined to agree with him but reiterated how we must trust the people back in London and that they would break us out successfully. If, for whatever reason, we were compromised, I was concerned about how Rudolf could use this new exfiltration method as a bargaining chip to save his own skin, and then in the same thought had the horrible idea that this had all been a set up; we were in a very precise location which could easily be handed over to the Gestapo if they had wanted to.
What if a plane wasn’t coming to pick us up after all? I would have not only sacrificed my life and Rudolf’s, but also that of Louis and the men that he would bring to secure our landing site.
I kept everything in my head, not voicing the overwhelming sense of betrayal and guilt that was awash in my mind. Rudolf had a pistol too, and I didn’t want to give him any excuse to be using it on me.
Just as I began to think about leaving the site altogether and moving to a different field or forest to await the phantom plane, I began to make out a faint drubbing in the distance, like a motorcycle or another small vehicle approaching us. I began to shift around in the foliage, growing increasingly nervy about the sudden existence of a German company bearing down on us.
The throbbing grew louder, but not to the crescendo that I was expecting a plane to reach, more like it was fitted with some sort of suppressor, to try and hide its true intentions to land in a small field. I could hear it circling overhead, trying to spot the landing site in the darkness, but I myself still could not see it. I was dying to lay my eyes on it and work out what kind of revolutionary aircraft it was, to be able to land in a small clearing in amongst a boundary of trees and that would then have the power to lift off in the small surroundings.
I ducked my head instinctively to be welcomed by a face full of nettles, as I watched three blackened figures hare from the opposite side of the field and simply stand there, as if they were just asking to be shot at. I couldn’t tell who they were and for a moment, I thought that one of the men could have been Joseph, so furious with the attempt to bypass his authority that he had come to spoil the party. The idea that they were Germans too crossed my mind, but the inactivity and unconcerned nature of Rudolf suggested to me that we had no cause for concern.
The engine grew louder as he made another pass over the clearing when, as if a switch had been flicked, all the figures lit a lamp simultaneously. The revs of the aircraft suddenly picked up as he raced off into the distance, as if he had been spooked by the lights flickering on, and the figures ran back into the forest, leaving their lamps where they were.
Now was the time to move, we had been set up and there was going to be an almighty firestorm before too long, with all we had to defend ourselves being two puny little pistols. I figured that if we withdrew now, we might be able to sneak past the German’s net that mu
st have been slowly closing in around us before it was too late.
25
It took me far too long to realise that the roar of the motorcycle’s engine that had returned was actually that of the aeroplane making its final approach towards the field, and not an advanced German scouting party leading the lynch mob in to string us up.
We stayed put, completely stock still as the aircraft finally came into view from the darkness, and began to descend over the field. I was still utterly convinced that we were going to be made while the plane was coming down, and that we would never get the chance to run towards it, but instead would be forced to watch it take off without us as its honourary passengers.
The lamps that had been lit by the darkened silhouettes must have been some sort of markers, marking out the boundaries of where it would be safe to try and land the aircraft. The longer we sat there and the more we watched, the more bonkers the whole idea seemed. This aircraft had flown from southern England, over the channel and its defences, then cross-country over heavily fortified France, before coming down to land in a small field. Once aboard, the same journey would be taken on the way back, risking all of our lives in the process. I wondered what kind of a madman in Whitehall had conjured up this idea, and noted that I would immediately send him a letter to request evacuations by submarine for the duration of the war, for the sake of the sanity of the men who needed to be picked up.
“It is all so well organised,” Rudolf said, and I almost jumped as he spoke, having completely forgotten that he was with me. “And all right under our noses as well. It is quite remarkable. You English have got guts.”
“They’ve got something Rudolf, and I’m not sure it’s guts.” I was having to shout now to be heard over the roaring engine, as I watched the plane’s nose rear up slightly, like a raging horse trying to flip its rider from its back, as it gently kissed the grass before thumping itself down more heavily.
He bumbled around on the uneven surface for about sixty or seventy yards, until the pilot managed to gain some control over the aircraft and started to slow it down, turning in a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree rotation so that it was facing back the way that it had come.
I didn’t have any other signal to work with other than that one, so shouted at Rudolf, who was already up on his feet and ready to run.
“Now! Let’s go! Don’t forget that suitcase!”
We leapt up from our position, my legs feeling cold all of a sudden as the warmth of my blood began to surge back around them again. I soon realised that I should have stood up for a minute or two before charging towards the aircraft, as my legs hadn’t fully woken up yet and were struggling to keep up with the high knees routine that I was employing in order to negotiate my way through all the brambles and undergrowth.
My trousers became ripped and torn as they were snagged on thorns that refused to let me go, leaving a trail of cotton and fabric on almost every bramble that I came in to contact with. My legs were aired out nicely by the time I made it to the much easier greenery of the grass, a great ventilation hole having opened up around both of my ankles, the ripped trousers flapping around like the Union flag atop Buckingham Palace.
I began to slip and slide over the dampness of the grass, trying to keep my head up and running towards the timid face of the pilot who, I could only assume, was as mad as the man who had thought that an exfiltration by air was a good idea.
All thoughts of what I was doing and why were completely wiped from my mind as I ran, it was just a totally blank canvas. No thoughts of Jimmy or Joseph. Nothing touched my mind about Rudolf or Geranium. Even Cécile failed to get much of a look in as I continued the charge. It became all about me and the pilot, sitting in the cockpit, props still turning waiting for his passengers to throw themselves in and begin their journey home.
He had clearly completed all of his checks, he was just waiting for two more things before he could leave. I could make him out quite easily, his facial features becoming more defined and prominent the closer I got to freedom. His eyes were wide with terror, which seemed to grow all the wider when he realised that the figure behind me was still wearing an SS uniform, complete with Iron Cross and other, rather unnecessary embellishments.
Rudolf had fallen behind me and, not wanting to risk being in France any longer than was strictly necessary, I had no hesitations about taking the lead on this one. Besides, I wanted to nab the best seats before they were all taken.
I picked up more pace the closer I got, the only thing from preventing me anymore was the heavy weight of the pistol in my right hand, that seemed to have a mind of its own and want nothing more than to drag me back towards the outskirts of the field.
I was so focused on the pilot, so obsessed with the aircraft that was taking me home, that I almost didn’t hear the gunshot as it catapulted its way through the air. I took another four or five paces before realising what had happened, immediately digging my heels into the field to try and stop as quickly as I could. The slippery surface presented itself more as an ice rink and I quickly lost my footing and found myself with my face flat in the earth, drinking mouthfuls of mud and grass.
Looking up, I could see that it had taken only one gunshot to bring Rudolf down, but he was still trying desperately to scrabble around and bring himself to his feet. He wanted to get back to England just as much as I did, he would certainly die if he stayed in France now.
I began dragging myself along my belly towards him, simultaneously checking all around me for where the shot might have come from, acutely aware that another, well-directed shot would be all it would take for me to go down in the same way.
As I heaved myself along the grass, like some sort of deranged snake, I realised that I had messed up. The resistance boys would always have come prepared for a firefight with anybody, that was their whole mission, to cause as much havoc in occupied France as they possibly could. They would have turned up for this assignment absolutely armed to the teeth and ready to attack Berlin if they had been given half a chance.
Louis’ message about the two friendlies that were going to be charging towards the plane can’t have got through, either that or I hadn’t made it explicitly clear to him about who my friend was going to be. It suddenly dawned on me that I had left one vital detail out, one that had led to Rudolf being hit by a marksman’s bullet.
I had neglected to tell Louis that Rudolf was still in his SS uniform. One of the resistance boys must have seen the uniform and instinctively fired, only realising his error after it was too late.
I made it over to Rudolf, who was bleeding heavily from a wound on the inside of his left arm. As I wrapped my hand around it, I realised that he was gushing blood from his arm so much that the bullet must have struck the artery, the one that supplies the whole of the arm with the necessary bodily fluids. Without proper attention, he would be dead within minutes. I checked his back by rolling him over ever so slightly and fumbling around, searching his shoulder blades and arm for an exit wound.
The round seemed to exit just above of his shoulder blade, meaning that the round must have taken an almighty deflection off the humerus bone in his arm, ricocheted through his body and out of his back. The blood was pouring from that wound too, albeit at a much slower rate.
I had only two options right now, as moving him was going to be nigh on impossible. I could drag him back into the cover of the nettles and undergrowth, try to administer some treatment to him as best as I could, before running around and trying to find where Louis had hidden his men. I would have to hope that someone would have had the presence of mind to bring along some kind of medical kit with them.
The other was that I turned around there and then, hopped into the plane and forgot all about Rudolf, and hope that Louis’ men would do some sort of clear up within ten minutes of me leaving, otherwise he would be dead.
My survival instinct kicked in above everything else, the compassionate side of me becoming almost non-existent.
His suitcase was la
ying about five yards behind him, tossed backwards by the force of the bullet ripping its way into his shoulder. I pulled myself away from him for a moment and reached out for it, sliding it into my chest and clutching it in much the same way as I had done as we left the airfield.
As I rolled over, intending to leap up and sprint for the aircraft with every fibre of my being, I made out his voice, pleading with me to come in closer to his face, beckoning me in with his good hand.
Against all my better judgements, I did as he requested, waiting for that final second when I would feel the bullet rip through me and I would hear the fateful crack of a rifle, well after its round had departed.
“The case…” he moaned, wincing in agony as the blood began to form a nice smattering of its pigment all over the grass. “The case…” he repeated.
“I’ve got to take it with me Rudolf, I have to. You knew the risks.”
“No,” he argued, straining his voice with all his power to try and reassert some of the authority he thought he possessed.
“The case…it has nothing in it.” He winced as I recoiled away from him, as if I was shocked at the sudden revelation. I knew from the start that he wouldn’t have anything of any use in it to me, but for some reason I had refused to believe it, hoping that there was at least one file in it that would maybe tell me where Cécile was, or what Geranium actually meant. Any good soldier never stores his intelligence in paper, but in his head, that way, he might be able to buy enough time to escape with his life. That was exactly what Rudolf had done.
“Do you have anything for me then?” I screamed at him, becoming increasingly concerned that I was now semi-crouched in an open field when an unknown number of armed men were lurking menacingly in the bushes all around.