Day of Vengeance

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Day of Vengeance Page 11

by Johnny O'Brien


  “He is here now?” Jean-Yves asked.

  Pierre’s eyes widened in excitement, “Gottschalk returned to the chateau last night. We believe Hitler was with him. Everything is in place. Let me show you.”

  Pierre pointed to the map.

  “This is Villiers-sur-Oise. That way is south – towards Paris. We are there. The airstrip is off the map in that direction. And that,” he moved his finger over to a patch of woodland, “just out of town, is Chateau Villiers.”

  “But the chateau itself will be well protected,” Jean-Yves said. “We can’t just launch an attack from the outside.”

  Pierre smiled. “We will attack from the inside and the outside at the same time. They are taking food and supplies from the village each morning and each evening. Chez Pierre’s gets daily orders. We will simply drive up in the van, delivering the provisions, and ourselves, into the building…”

  “What about weapons?”

  “Only explosives. Well disguised. We deliver them into the heart of the building and then leave. Simple.”

  “Aren’t they going to be suspicious – surely they will search the van?” Marianne said.

  “They are used to us, we have been supplying them for a while now. Anyway, there will only be two of us in the van. Hardly a threat. After we leave, the bomb goes off – boom!” Pierre raised his arms dramatically above his head. “And then we launch the next phase, which is where Dominic and his friends from the Ninth come in.”

  Map of the area surrounding Villiers-sur-Oise

  Dominic took over. “The French army may have surrendered. But we have not. We have enough comrades from my company to launch an attack through here, where there is still no perimeter fencing,” Dominic pointed at part of the woodland surrounding the chateau. “We have more than enough armed men to mop up and make sure Hitler, Gottschalk and any of his other cronies are dead. My men are already preparing.”

  “And we have the element of surprise. When it is done… we melt back into the countryside.”

  Jack glanced anxiously across the table at Angus. He was no soldier, but he knew the plan sounded very risky. The prospect of taking on an armed garrison of the SS, which was being reinforced to protect a visit from the Führer, with a collection of staff from Chez Pierre and the ramshackle remains of a recently defeated army, did not sound hopeful. It looked like Pierre and his friends were determined to strike when they had the chance, however, and Jean-Yves and Marianne were being carried along by their enthusiasm.

  Jack looked round the table. There was steel in the eyes of these men and their confidence was buoyed by alcohol. Jack realised, with dismay, that he wouldn’t to be able to stop them on his own. Not for the first time, he felt he was being dragged along by the course of events and drawn into something that he knew he should have no part in.

  “So – what do you want us to do?” Jean-Yves said.

  Pierre thought for a moment. “Marianne will ride with me in the van. The presence of a woman will put them at ease. Dominic will command his company through the woodlands that surround the chateau – I think you should join him.” He looked up at Jack and Angus and then at Sophie. “And of course we need your help as well.”

  “Er, hold on…” Jack put up his hands defensively.

  Pierre just talked over him. “There is a slight rise in the woodland here.” He pointed at the map again. “From that position you can get a good view of the road from Villiers, the driveway from the road up to the chateau, and the chateau itself. You will be between us in the van and Dominic and his troops further along in the woods. You three should stay together. I will give you my field glasses. You just need to watch. If you see anything that worries you, run to the road to warn us or head through the woods to warn Dominic. Clear?”

  Jack didn’t like the sound of this at all. He cleared this throat, “But…”

  Everyone looked at him and he felt the blood rushing to his face. “I am not sure – I still think maybe we should wait, er, wait until we have more people…”

  Pierre looked at him, his face was flushed with excitement and the effects of the wine, “My young friend, this is the only chance we have. We must strike now. We have a second chance to kill Hitler and free France.” He leaped up, swaying on his feet, “Courage, my friends…” he thrust out his glass, “for France!”

  Pierre had described the spot well. There was a rise in the woodland and the undergrowth was sufficiently sparse to give them a reasonable view of the chateau and the surrounding area. They were about a mile from the village, up from the river that meandered through the valley below. A narrow driveway peeled off to the left of the road from Villiers through a canopy of trees which at points formed a dark and verdant tunnel, split here and there by splashes of evening sunshine. It led directly to the chateau, which sat behind closed bottle green, wrought-iron gates. There were sentries posted both at the main gates and at the entrance where the drive split from the road.

  The chateau itself was a well-proportioned rectangular structure. It was two storeys high, with a rounded tower at each end and a sharply sloping slate roof. Solid double doors were flanked on either side by large windows, eight on the ground floor in all and nine on the first floor. The roof was set with a series of bull’s-eye windows. At the front, the gravel drive leading from the gates widened into a broad ‘T’, and ended abruptly at the left gable but continuing off from the right end to a low block of outbuildings and stables. The rim of grass around the chateau was neatly trimmed and after thirty metres merged into the woodland.

  Jack had found a good position up in an old oak tree. Angus and Sophie lay in a large bush beneath it. He looked out towards the woods beyond the far end of the chateau. He knew that in there, somewhere, Dominic and his company of men would be waiting, poised to attack. Looking back towards the chateau, he spotted a young deer nibbling on a tuft of grass at the edge of the lawn. Jack raised his field glasses and surveyed each of the windows. He half expected to spot the Führer gazing out at him, but he couldn’t see anyone inside the building. At the entrance, two soldiers stood guard. On the roof, two more soldiers chatted. One was smoking and puffed smoke rings up into the still evening air.

  “I can hear something on the road!” Angus whispered up from his hiding position.

  Jack’s heart jumped. Sure enough, from the road below, he could hear the rough engine of the little Citroën van as it chugged its way up the gentle gradient from Villiers-sur-Oise. Jack turned his field glasses to the road. Between the trees he caught glimpses of the van and the worn red lettering on its side that spelled out, ‘Chez Pierre’. From his position it was impossible to see the driver and passenger, but he knew Marianne and Pierre were in the van. Jack heard the sound of the engine drop as they reached the first checkpoint where the driveway to the chateau led off from the main village road. Jack held his breath. The engine started up again as it was allowed on its way up to the second checkpoint, at the large wrought-iron gates at the far end of the driveway.

  The van stopped in front of the gates. Using his field glasses, Jack could clearly see the German sentry poke his head into the van. He walked around the van and looked under it and then returned to the cabin. Jack saw Pierre get out of the cabin and go to the back of the van. He opened the back and the sentry peered in. A second sentry stood back, one hand on his machine gun, which hung loosely by its strap from his shoulder. The rear of the van was stacked high with boxes – wine, vegetables and meat. The sentry looked at the mountain of provisions and gave a little shrug. He wasn’t seriously expected to search through all of it was he? Pierre looked at the soldier expectantly and then the soldier said something. Pierre pulled down the cover at the back of the van and climbed back into the cabin. The sentry leaned into the cabin again and pointed towards the back of the chateau. The gates creaked open and the sentry smacked the side of the van twice with his hand. The van rumbled slowly through the gate and followed the driveway round to the rear of the chateau. They were in.
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br />   Jack’s heart was beating even faster now and the field glasses were becoming damp with the sweat from his hands. He brought the glasses to bear once more on the front of the chateau. Firstly, he looked at the rooftop. The two German soldiers who had been there a moment ago had disappeared. The soldiers had also disappeared from the front terrace. Jack scanned the front of the building to see where they had gone. At the edge of the woods the deer was still there. But, suddenly, it lifted its head and its ears pricked up. Then it darted into the safety of the woods.

  Something was wrong.

  Jack kept his eye on the edge of the woods and glanced at his watch. Ten minutes to eight. Any minute now, the van should reappear… and just after eight o’clock there would be a massive explosion as the bomb ripped through the building. Then, Dominic and his company of men would break from the woods in an all-out attack on the chateau as any survivors tried to flee the building. He looked at his watch again and then over to the edge of the woods. He glanced down at Angus in the bush below. Angus frowned and mouthed a silent, “Where are they?” in return. Two more minutes passed. Still nothing. Jack looked through the field glasses again, desperately scanning the chateau, gardens and woods for any sign of life.

  Suddenly, he heard a twig snap behind him. He twisted round and the shock of what he saw sent a pulse through his body. Below and about fifty metres behind, a line of German soldiers were creeping slowly through the woods. They were spread out at about ten-metre intervals, among the trees in a long line that stretched as far as Jack could see to the left and the right. They moved forward slowly, guns at the ready. One of them was approaching the thicket beneath Jack, where Angus and Sophie lay, covered in the undergrowth. Jack wanted to scream out to them to run, but he knew to do so would mean instant death. His heart was thumping in his chest like a steam hammer but he tried to stay still. He wanted the great oak tree somehow to absorb him into its vast, ancient boughs. He knew that any disturbance, any movement, would give him away. The soldiers continued to advance – maintaining a disciplined formation as best they could over the terrain. As Jack peered towards them, he suddenly noticed that after the first line of soldiers came a second wave – only twenty metres behind. The entire woodland was infested.

  Jack spied the soldier nearest to them. He was only a few metres away now and Jack could clearly make out his face. Suddenly, he stopped right under the tree where Jack was hiding. He looked surreptitiously left, and then right. He undid his trousers and started to urinate on the tree. Angus and Sophie lay in the thicket next to the tree only feet away. He zipped himself up and moved off as the first line of troops eased past them. Jack looked out towards the road to their right and to the fields in the far distance beyond the outbuildings. It was difficult to see properly, but everywhere he looked he saw German soldiers approaching the chateau. The entire chateau and its grounds were surrounded by two vast contracting rings of German soldiers.

  Jack looked on aghast. Emerging from the woodland on the far side of the gardens he saw a straggling band of men in civilian clothes. They had their arms held high above their heads. Behind them, German soldiers, toting machine guns, pushed them forward. In front, Jack could see Jean-Yves and Dominic, ashen-faced and terrified. They had been pulled to one side and there was a brief exchange with a Nazi officer. Then the remaining men were lined up, facing the low wall at the front of the chateau, as the two lines of soldiers, which had now passed by Jack, Angus and Sophie, emerged from the woodland and onto the chateau lawn.

  Jack scrambled down from his tree and pulled Angus and Sophie up from their hiding place in the undergrowth.

  “They’ve caught them. It’s like they knew there was going to be an attack. Look…” Jack pointed through the trees to where they could see a number of the men being lined up against the wall. Sophie and Angus peered forward to where Jack pointed. Sophie started sobbing, “Can you see Mum and Dad?”

  Jack grimaced, “I think I saw your dad, Sophie. Your mum was in the van, of course, but it hasn’t reappeared.”

  Jack put the field glasses back up to his eyes. It was much more difficult to see from ground level than from his vantage point up in the big oak tree. The German soldiers now stepped away from the men lined up against the wall, forming a semi-circle around the prisoners.

  “Hold on, they’re not going to…” They looked on at the scene in the garden before them and then Sophie turned to Jack in bewilderment.

  “Oh God, no…” Jack looked away just as the sound of automatic rifle fire ripped through the evening air. It reverberated through the woodland until there was silence. When Jack looked back up all he could see was blood spattered across the garden wall and a heap of bodies lying on the ground beneath. Sophie turned to Jack and Angus and screamed. It was not a human scream.

  She burst forward, but Angus grabbed her arm. She tore at him with her nails and lashed out with her feet, screaming hysterically, but Angus held her tight. He looked over at Jack with horror in his eyes and shook his head. The screams alerted the German soldiers who turned to search out the source of the noise. Jack saw an officer bark an order and point. They had been spotted.

  “Run!” Jack shouted.

  They pelted through the woodland away from the chateau. Jack heard the muffled shouting of the soldiers through the trees behind them.

  “Down here!” Angus had found a narrow woodland path – much easier going than the undergrowth – and they sprinted onwards. The path led into a clearing in the woodland. Directly ahead, there was a rusting iron gate set between high walls which extended across the clearing. They peered through. Inside, they could see rows of old graves intertwined with gravel paths. The graveyard walls were lined with cypress trees; their arrowheads pierced the evening sky.

  “Come on!” Angus whispered. The gate creaked as he pushed it open. They squeezed through and Jack scraped the iron bolt back into place.

  “I think that’s the main gate on the other side. There must be a track that leads back to the village.”

  They raced across the graveyard. The path twisted under an old yew tree near the centre and for a moment they found themselves in near darkness. As they emerged, Jack’s eye was drawn to an elaborate mausoleum in a far corner of the cemetery, surrounded by more yew trees. He heard voices nearby in the woods again. The soldiers were getting nearer.

  “I think we’ve had it, Jack. I don’t think we’ll make it to the village,” Angus said.

  “Maybe we could hide in there?”

  “That temple thing – you’re kidding?”

  They moved closer. Beside the tomb, a statue of the Virgin Mary reached out her arms, as if in welcome. Light from a few votive candles flickered and danced over her face.

  Jack looked into the mausoleum. Its entrance was shielded with a low gate and a number of large vases placed on the stone floor. Behind the gate there was just an empty black space, leading down to the crypt.

  “Wait here…” Jack said.

  He raced off, leaving Angus and Sophie standing by the mausoleum. He ran down the gravel path towards the main gate of the graveyard. Again, he heard the soldiers’ voices. The main gate was larger than the gate they had come through at the back of the graveyard. As gently as he could, he scraped the bolt to the side. Then he pushed one of the large gates so that it was partially ajar. It might just be enough to persuade their pursuers that they had run straight through the graveyard, out the other side and on to Villiers-sur-Oise in the valley beyond.

  Jack retraced his steps to where Angus and Sophie still stood.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered.

  Taking one of the candles from the statue, he gingerly approached the mausoleum. He picked his way through the vases on the floor and then pushed on the metal gate. It was open. Angus and Sophie followed.

  “I don’t like this,” Angus said.

  “Sshh!” Jack whispered.

  The candle gave just enough light to show the way down a narrow stone staircase that descended int
o the crypt. The atmosphere changed immediately – it was cold and musty. As they reached the floor of the crypt, Jack held up the candle. Ahead of them two large stone tombs were raised on a plinth. It was difficult to see, but all around the chamber there were recesses built into the walls. Lying in each of them were coffins.

  “This is too creepy.”

  “Keep your voice down, we need to hide somewhere, I thought the crypt would be bigger than this.”

  Jack moved over to one of the recesses and half tugged at the side of the coffin. It did not move.

  “What are you doing? Hold on – there’s no way I’m getting in…”

  “No – you’re right.”

  “What about this?”

  Sophie had moved over to the far side of the crypt and was crouching down. “I think there is air here – a little breeze – and the wall here, it’s not stone, it’s wood. It smells rotten.”

  Jack and Angus moved over to Sophie. The candle was burning low and Jack held it close to the wall. The light flickered briefly onto Sophie’s face. She looked as scared as Jack felt. He could see her eyes were still red from crying and the grazes on her face where the branches had clawed at her as she broke free from their hiding place.

  Jack touched the door. “You’re right – wood.”

  “And what’s that?” Angus rubbed his finger round an indentation half way up. “A keyhole. It’s an old door. Leave this one to me.”

  Without warning, he dropped his shoulder and charged the door. It fractured and flew inwards off the remains of its hinges. Angus had not expected it to come free quite so easily. He was propelled into a passageway beyond, landing face down in mud and slime.

 

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