Cast No Shadow

by Peter Alderson Sharp

  When Rahn rose, he embraced each of them in turn before stepping out into the street, his Thomson machine gun cocked and ready. In an instance the quiet, loving priest blended silently into the shadows and completed his transformation into a foreign legion trained killing machine.

  Rahn and Kelly had each told their stories and Élise was well into hers. At that moment, much to the interest of the male members of the resistance group in particular, she had her jumper raised showing the ugly wound inflicted during the ambush. She concluded her story and sat on the chair indicated by the leader of the group, known to his team as ‘Tonton’ because of his age and kindly nature.

  “Wait here please, we need to discuss.” He, along with four of the others, moved into the adjoining room. They picked up the weapons belonging to Kelly and his group as they did so, leaving behind two armed guards.

  They were gone only a matter of minutes before they filed back in. The ‘Uncle’ smiled. Kelly inwardly sighed with relief as with very obvious significance, he and his comrades were handed their weapons. They were safe.

  With the tension abated, the assembly sat chatting amiably and enjoying a glass of wine together. Tonton explained to the three that they currently had to be extra careful, as the group had almost been infiltrated by a couple that had become known as ‘The Vikings’.

  Kelly was intrigued, “Why Vikings?” he asked.

  “It’s a man and woman team,” explained Tonton. “Possibly man and wife. The man doesn’t get involved, but the woman tries to infiltrate resistance groups, then presumably feeds back to the man who passes the information onto the Gestapo.”

  Tonton sipped his wine, then as if remembering the original question continued, “They are called the ‘Vikings’ because although the man is apparently German, the woman is Scandinavian.”

  Kelly felt himself visibly blanche. “By Scandinavian, do you mean Swedish?”

  “Swedish, Norwegian, one or the other. Probably Norwegian. At least, that’s her story. She claims she was part of the Norwegian underground and that the man is a German deserter who saved her life.” Tonton paused for a moment. “We now have their location. I will be looking for volunteers to ‘retire’ them.”

  “I will do it!” said Kelly without hesitation, a knot forming in his stomach. He was conscious of Élise looking at him, an odd, curious expression on her face. He refused to meet her eyes.

  “Why?” Tonton asked, carefully scrutinising him.

  “It will give me a chance to prove myself to you and your group,” said Kelly. “I am happy to work alone. It will reduce the odds of any of your team being killed or injured.”

  “You know we wouldn’t let you do that, Dan,” said Wolf. “Élise and I would insist on going with you. We are a team, together.” Élise nodded.

  No one spoke for some time, as Tonton paced up and down, pondering the suggestion. Eventually he found his voice. “The plan has merit. I did not want to expose my people at this stage, so close to the invasion. You on the other hand are unknown here. It will be risky, but with the right papers you should be able to pull it off.”

  Another pause. “Very well. We need to move quickly; if they get wind of the fact that we are on to them they will move out. Laure will lead you to the house, but that will be her only involvement.”

  The strike was agreed for three days hence, which would give Tonton time to arrange the necessary papers. They discussed the location of a safe house where provision could be made for them in a busy part of the town. There they were less likely to attract attention in that area, and fresh clothes would be supplied.

  Nonetheless, it was with a feeling of mounting apprehension that Kelly finally drifted off to sleep that night.

  The four stood around at the junction of the Rue D’Auvergne and Rue de Bourgogne with a clear view of the Rue D’Auvergne, and in particular house number 16. They chatted as if they had just met in the street, Laure with her arm linking that of Rahn, Kelly with his arm around the shoulders of Élise, for all the world like two couples gossiping and passing the time of day. Kelly had arranged himself so that he was partly hidden by Rahn but could still see the approach to the house.

  They could only afford to stay for about thirty minutes in this position before they would start to attract attention. Fifteen minutes had already expired. Laure had explained that the couple were in the habit of returning at about the same time each day. Today they were only slightly overdue.

  They chatted for another five or so minutes before Laure visibly tensed. “It’s them!” she whispered trying to smile to maintain their cover. The others looked around while surreptitiously keeping up a steady banter of irrelevant chatter. Kelly inwardly hoped he was wrong about the woman’s identity.

  It was a warm May afternoon. The woman was lightly dressed, and her figure was clearly visible. Her blonde, almost white hair moved around in the light breeze. Kelly’s heart sank. It was Sybilla! It occurred to him that he had never actually seen Jürgen Meyer, but her tall dark strongly built companion must be he.

  He slowly became conscious of Rahn peering into his eyes and speaking. “Dan? Are you alright? Where are you?”

  “Sorry, Padre. I was thinking about our approach tonight.”

  “Good!” said Rahn, but he didn’t look entirely convinced.

  Once the couple had entered number 16 the small group dispersed, Laure to her home the other three to their safe house. They waited there for night to fall.

  As dusk slid into darkness, the three checked their pistols one more time, Rahn having decided his Thompson was far too conspicuous, and slipped out into the night, blending with the shadows. They moved noiselessly to the Rue D’Auvergne. Kelly indicated to Élise to take up a position at the rear of the house. Her response was a scowl and a shake of the head. Kelly nodded vigorously and gestured impatiently. Reluctantly she left the two of them and made her way to the rear to cut off any escape.

  Lights shone from an upstairs window and from the ground floor. Kelly and Rahn, their faces set in stone masks, made their way to the house, and walked up to the front door, Rahn tried the door, found it locked, and then knocked.

  A man’s face came into view, peering around the curtain. Immediately he disappeared again. There was the sound of shouting and a commotion from inside. Feet were dashing downstairs; objects were being broken in the rush. Rahn hurled himself at the window, twisting at the last moment so that he crashed through back first. Kelly followed him, vaulting over the windowsill. Rahn was already upright, moving to the stairs. Kelly darted for the rear area.

  A shot rang out from the garden. Kelly ran through the open door in time to see the German pistol whipping Élise to the ground. He stood over her, his weapon levelled, ready to fire. Kelly raised his weapon, aimed and fired in one movement. The German spun on his heel and crashed onto the concrete pathway firing as he fell. A kick in the left shoulder followed by searing pain sent Kelly tumbling backwards. He quickly scrambled into a kneeling position, retrieving his dropped pistol as he did so, but the German was already sitting up, his pistol on aim. A crack from a pistol near Kelly’s head signalled the arrival of Rahn and the death of the German as a round crashed into his forehead.

  A rustle in the bushes and the female emerged. She held a pistol clenched in both hands at waist level, making for the open gate.

  “Stop!” called out Rahn. “Drop your weapon, now!”

  The woman spun to face them. Both Kelly and Rahn had their weapons raised. A second of time stretched to an eon as Kelly looked into Sybilla’s frightened eyes. He could see she was visibly trembling, and he noted the startled look of recognition in her eyes. Kelly tightened his finger on the trigger of his 9 mm, then released it again without firing.

  Instead, Rahn fired. Wood splintered from the garden fence. The woman ducked and sprang to her side. She disappeared through the garden gate and raced into the night.

  Kelly made to pursue, but a firm hand grasped him by the collar and dragged him back.<
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  “No, my friend, no time!” Rahn hissed. “I’ll help Élise. Come on!”

  Élise was already on her feet, but the rolling eyes and the trickle of blood running down her forehead signalled concussion.

  With Rahn clutching Élise, and Kelly in agony from the shoulder wound, they sprinted down the avenue and over a fence into a field, along the fence line, across another field and into the woodland at Bois Couderkerque.

  Quickly they identified the main track through the wood and followed it. At the first junction Laure was waiting as agreed. Without a word she motioned them to follow her off the track and into the densest part of the wood. The three comrades stumbled and crashed after Laure until she stopped abruptly, then started feeling around in the undergrowth.

  Laure was pulling at something. By the limited moonlight filtering through the trees, they watched as she uncovered the opening of a hole in the ground. A hidden bunker. She motioned them to climb down using a set of wooden steps. “Not you!” she whispered to Kelly.

  Laure helped Kelly remove the black jumper, throwing it into the bunker, and then ripping the buttons on his shirt she opened it far enough to view the wound. “Not good, but you won’t bleed to death! Down!” she whispered, almost pushing him into the hole.

  Laure followed Kelly down. In the poor light he was still able to see the inside of their refuge. Basically a concrete hole about eight feet square, the walls were lined with wood. A number of alcoves into the walls were visible. Then Laure pulled down the hatch and they were in total darkness. Kelly felt his way to a wall then slumped against it.

  Someone was moving around the bunker. Kelly felt a hand on his right arm, then a hand was feeling his face, a voice in his ear, whispering, “Dan?” It was Élise.

  “Yes,” he whispered pulling her to him and cradling her in his one good arm. The irony, the almost comic-opera proportions of their current position, was not lost on Kelly. He was in great pain, exhausted and stressed. They were in a hole in the ground not much bigger than a grave and he was cradling a young woman who had come within a whisker of losing her life twice within the space of a few days. At least he still had his Élise … and Sybilla was alive! Kelly stopped trying to analyse the confused feelings that tumbled and spun in this mind.

  It was a long night. Occasionally Kelly fell into a fitful slumber but that was rare. Most of the time he simply sat, the wall supporting his back, his shoulder throbbing with pain. He held tightly to Élise as if afraid to lose her. She stirred little, now and then moaning softly as if slipping in and out of consciousness. At least Rahn was sleeping, his breathing deep and heavy. Sleeping the sleep of the innocent, thought Kelly, smiling to himself in the darkness.

  The trapdoor opened. The bunker’s occupants blinked into the light that revealed a tableau of four people all with weapons levelled at the opening. Tonton descended slowly, carrying a rucksack. He called up and another rucksack sailed into the bunker. “Here!” he said. “Take off your dark outer clothing and put these on. It’s a beautiful spring day outside. Leave your dark clothing here, we will attend to that.”

  Tonton then produced several bottles of water, located basins from one of the alcoves and bade them wash off the soot from their faces and, in Élise’s case, the blood also. Élise, now apparently recovered apart from a lump the size of an egg on her head, helped Kelly who was still in pain. Tonton produced a field dressing and the shoulder was bandaged. To avoid being conspicuous, Kelly slipped his left hand into his waistband to support the damaged shoulder.

  They joined Tonton’s wife, keeping watch at the entrance of the bunker and, after securing the escape hole, they made their way arm in arm along the forest track just like a family out for a walk.

  After a de-briefing by Rahn, Tonton joined Kelly and Élise, and was effusive in his praise for the three who had eliminated one of the most wanted fifth columnists in France. He declared himself unworried by the escape of the woman. He had no doubt she would be dealt with after the war, although it was a shame Kelly’s gun had jammed just at that moment.

  Kelly shot a glance at Rahn who failed to meet his gaze and looked steadily ahead.

  A visiting ‘safe’ doctor confirmed that the bullet had passed through Kelly’s shoulder, chipping away part of the clavicle as it went. There was likely to be a hairline fracture as well, but the good news was that the bone was still in one piece and attached.

  The next few weeks were spent lying low. Tonton refused to risk anyone in futile gestures so close to an invasion that everyone was convinced would happen soon. Kelly and Élise stole whatever quiet moments they could to lie in each other’s arms and to make love.

  Élise was as passionate as ever in her lovemaking, but Kelly sensed something was troubling her. They talked in the quiet moments of their affair, and Élise confessed her love for him but was confused because she still loved her husband and couldn’t wait to see him again. Was it wrong to love two people, she asked him?

  He had assured her of his love for her and told her how he understood her need to return to her husband as soon as ‘this business’ was over. Kelly understood her feelings. He knew only too well how it was possible to love two people at the same time. Despite the temptation to take her into his confidence, he kept his relationship with Sybilla from Élise. It would serve no purpose and could complicate matters.

  The last days of May were blissful as he and Élise spent as much time as they could in each other’s company whenever the opportunity arose. Perhaps each was inwardly aware that their time together was drawing to a close.

  They were awakened in the early hours of the fourth of June and scrambled to their places in ambush teams along the Dunkerque to Lille road, their intention to harass any reinforcements coming north to reinforce Dunkerque.

  It occurred to Kelly how incredibly dangerous this could be. Any German units attacked in this way would need to totally eliminate any opposition to keep open the re-supply route. He was doubtful that the tactic of hit and run would enable them to disengage at will.

  Convoys were moving up the road to Dunkerque, but their orders were clear, no action until the invasion was confirmed. There was no confirmation. There was an air of anti-climax as they made their way back to their homes. Barely had they been in bed more than a few hours when they were scrambled again. Again, no confirmation was received that day, the fifth of June.

  In the early hours of the morning of the sixth, they were yet again scrambled and were in position before first light. Just after dawn they received a radio message. The invasion had begun. In Normandy!

  Kelly staggered away from his hide position and moved deeper into the wood, which had provided cover. Élise ran to catch up with him but he waved her away. She looked hurt as she retraced her steps. He walked for about four or five hundred yards before slumping down onto the trunk of a fallen tree.

  Through his mind whirled visions of a German officer and a driver in Norway, the young frightened face of a child soldier in Dieppe, SBS marines, Andre, Claude, Jürgen Meyer and now nearly Élise. All for what? At the final push they had been nothing more than a decoy, expendable but useful for a time.

  Kelly dropped his head into his hands and wept.

  Part V

  A New Direction

  The Quest

  Kelly passed the barn twice before he convinced himself it really was the same barn.

  The whole of the external structure had been refurbished. Gone were the old shutters, with new windows in their place. Pretty floral curtains hid behind nets, and flower boxes were set under each window. The old wood and felt roof, or what there had been of it, had been replaced with bright orange tiles.

  A white fence now surrounded the barn and a garden had been laid, half to vegetables and half left semi-wild, overgrown with many varieties of wildflower. In one corner there was a sand pit scattered with children’s toys.

  Kelly opened the white gate, strolled down the crazed path, and knocked on the dull red door. He could j
ust make out the outline of where the double door had been; he remembered seeing Élise framed in that door.

  A small man of significant girth, with a receding hairline, compensated by a luxuriant drooping moustache, opened the door.

  “My name is Dan Kelly. Does Élise Reynaud live here?”

  Before the man could answer there was a bustle behind him and a short portly woman flew out of the door, carrying a child in her arms with another grimly hanging onto her skirts. She thrust the baby into the arms of the startled Frenchman then flung her arms around Kelly. The body that embraced him was that of a matron, but the face looking up at him was unmistakeably that of little Élise!

  She looked alive and radiant, a woman in full bloom. Kelly’s heart leapt to see her and he embraced her warmly. As they disengaged, Élise wiped the tears that were forming in her eyes and took the child from the startled man standing by her. She explained to him that this was Dan Kelly, the very man she had told him so much about, the brave Englishman—Kelly winced—that had fought beside her during the war. As she explained, the man’s face lit up.

  As Élise introduced him as Raymond, the gallant husband who had fought with the Free French, the Frenchman embraced Kelly and kissed him in Gallic fashion before thoroughly ringing his hand. It fleetingly crossed Kelly’s mind that he hoped Élise hadn’t told her husband everything about their wartime experiences, but judging by his reception that was not the case.

  They exchanged small talk as they went into the palace that had once been a cold and draughty dilapidated barn. Kelly was introduced to the children, Danni, nearly two, ‘but walking already’, a beautiful child with blonde hair and startling green eyes, and baby Marie, six months old. ‘Uncle’ Dan had to kiss the children as they were taken up the stairs to bed. Kelly was amazed at how quickly the tough Nazi hating wildcat he had known, had become domesticated.