“Jawohl, Brigadeführer.” The SS captain turned to face his stormtroopers. “Feur!”
Half a dozen MG 42 machine guns opened fire at the rate of one thousand five hundred rounds per minute at the one hundred male hostages who had been captured during Niebergall’s raid. They fell into the open grave that they had been forced to dig before Herold’s speech.
Herold walked up to the edge of the grave and spat into the mess of torn and mangled men. “Don’t mess with the SS,” he said. Herold turned on his heels and walked away without a backwards glance.
Chapter Four
“Was it worth it?” Alice asked through tear-filled eyes as she looked out of her bedroom window at the deserted neighbourhood street.
“It’s not a case of whether or not it was worth it...” Alan explained.
“The SS would have killed the hostages anyway, sis, and there is absolutely nothing that we could have done to prevent that from happening,” Sam said.
“The execution of the hostages had nothing to do with us killing Koch and Niebergall, Alice,” Alan continued. “The hostages were executed in revenge for the Saint George’s Day Massacre.”
“So is this all there is then?” Alice asked dejectedly. “We kill them and they kill us until the bitter end?”
“Yes,” Alan nodded his head.
“Until when?”
“Until we capture Berlin and conquer Germany and Hitler and all of the other Nazi bastards are dead.”
“Or until we’re dead.”
“Yes,” Alan answered resolutely with his head held high. “Until we’re dead and they prise our weapons from our cold and stiff bodies, and not one moment before. Strength and honour, my friends.”
“Strength and honour, Al,” Alice and Sam chorused.
Alan first spotted her when he was waiting outside the main school building to go to Morning Assembly.
“Who is she?” Alan asked Sam.
“Who?”
“That girl over there,” Alan gestured with his chin. She was tall and slim and she was about Alan’s height. She had shiny raven black hair that fell in flowing locks to her shoulders, long eyelashes, deep brown eyes and olive skin. She was the most exquisite creature that Alan had seen in his life and he could not keep his eyes off her.
Sam turned around, spotted her and shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, Alice mentioned that a new girl was starting school today and since Alice is a prefect she’s been asked to be her Guardian Angel and look after her. Alice said that she was Italian or Portuguese or something, but I can’t remember.”
“Fat lot of use you are, Sam!” Alan said with frustration.
“All right, Casanova, if you’re so keen why don’t you go and say hello to her?” Sam suggested.
“No, I can’t do that!” Alan protested as he stole another furtive glance at her.
“Come on, Al! Put your money where your mouth is!” Sam urged. “Walk over there and introduce yourself. I dare you, I double dare you!”
Alan shook his head in surrender.
“I don’t understand you, Al!” Sam was exasperated. “You will quite happily shoot it out with a section of SS stormtroopers at twenty paces, but you’re too scared to talk to a girl that you fancy!”
“I don’t… this is different, Sam,” Alan explained weakly.
“Bah!” Sam said with feigned disgust. “A little less conversation and a little more action is what’s called for, I think.” Sam looked at her again and gave a low wolf whistle. “Come to think of it, Al, she is a stunner. If you’re too scared to have a go then perhaps I will...” he teased.
“Don’t you dare, Sam! I saw her first!” Alan’s eyes flared.
“All’s fair in love and war, chum,” Sam said with a wicked grin on his face.
Alan thumped Sam on the arm.
“Ow!” Sam rubbed his arm tenderly. “That hurt, you bugger! You know that I’m only joking.”
“You better be joking, Sam! She’s mine,” Alan threatened with a growl in his throat.
“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Sam said as he punched his friend on the shoulder. “But you better be quick, Al: you’ve got competition.” Sam pointed with his chin at another group of boys who were checking out the new girl’s form.
Alan looked at the mysterious girl again and his heart skipped a beat as they locked eyes for several seconds, before they both looked away.
After Assembly, Alan saw the mystery girl speaking to Alice and couldn’t believe his eyes when she put her hand on Alice’s shoulder, turned her around and pointed at …him! Before he had time to compose himself, mystery girl and Alice were walking towards him.
“Alan, may I introduce Aurora. Aurora, may I introduce Alan,” Alice announced.
“I asked Alice to introduce me to you, Alan,” Aurora explained pointedly.
Without any further ado, Alice spun on her heels and walked away.
“Alice, where are you going?” Alan asked desperately. He felt like a shipwrecked sailor watching his rescue ship sail off into the distance.
“I’m leaving you two to get acquainted,” Alice replied with a beaming smile over her shoulder.
“But I…!” Alan protested with a raised hand.
Alice rushed back and planted a big kiss on Alan’s cheek. “Just be yourself, Al,” she whispered in his ear. “You’ll be fine.” And then she was gone.
“Hello… Aurora,” Alan said bashfully. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you, Alan,” Aurora replied with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. She was enjoying the effect that her presence and her earlier comment were having on Alan. The pair shook hands.
Alan jolted as if a bolt of lightning had hit him.
“What the… what the hell was that?” Alan asked in confusion. “Did you feel it?” Alan’s pulse rate was suddenly racing at a rapid rate of knots and his heart was pounding so hard that it threatened to burst out of his chest.
“I… I certainly did, Alan,” Aurora replied breathlessly. She was flustered and the tips of her fingers were tingling. “I think it is what you refer to in English as… chemistry.” She could feel the endorphins surging through her body as if she had overdosed by drinking a massive cup of chocolate caliente. Aurora was grateful that her olive skin helped to disguise her flushed complexion.
“So… what brings you to England?” Alan asked awkwardly as he tried to take slow regular breaths in order to slow down his heart rate.
“My father is the Military Attaché at the Spanish Consulate here in Hereward. We only arrived at the weekend and we’re still unpacking.” Aurora tried to recover her composure.
“Spanish Consulate?” Alan was confused. “Why on earth does Spain want to have a consulate in Hereward?”
“Franco wants to have a consulate where ever there is a seat of power. Hereward is going to be Hitler’s Official Residence is in Britain, so Franco wants to have his eyes and ears open where the action is,” Aurora explained.
Alan noticed that Aurora referred to Franco by his name and did not use the more respectful Caudillo. In Occupied Britain you could often tell what a person’s attitude was towards the Government of National Unity by paying particular attention when they talked about Joyce or Mosley: did they refer to the puppet prime ministers by name, or did they use the more respectful Leader?
“Everyone is opening consulates here in Hereward,” Aurora continued, “the Italians, the Portuguese and so on.”
All the Nazi’s Fascist fellow travellers, Alan thought to himself.
“We also have the embassy in London, of course, and also an embassy in Harrogate where the British Government is based…”
“Where the puppet British Government is based, Aurora,” Alan interrupted abruptly. “Forgive me for correcting you, Aurora, but making that mistake in less forgiving company could get you into a lot of trouble…”
“What kind of company, Alan? What kind of trouble?”
“The wrong kind of company,” Alan sa
id sternly. “The kind of company who shoot first and ask questions later. The kind of trouble where you’re likely to end up lying face down in a ditch with a bullet hole in the back of your head and your brains scattered all over the pavement.”
A pregnant pause. “Thank you for giving me such valuable advice, Alan.” Aurora bowed slightly.
“Well… I’d hate to see anything happen to you,” Alan said without thinking.
“Why, Alan?” Aurora asked mischievously. “After all, I’m only an enemy alien and we’ve only just met,” Aurora said coquettishly.
“As far as I know, Spain and Britain are not at war, Aurora; and you’re a guest in my country and it is my duty to protect you against all enemies,” Alan replied seriously.
Aurora laughed at Alan’s gallantry. “Against all enemies?” she teased.
“Against all enemies.” Alan nodded resolutely.
“You’re serious?” Aurora asked with raised eyebrows.
“I’m deadly serious, Aurora,” Alan replied with menace. “In fact, I’ve never been more serious in my life. I will defend you against all enemies, both British and German.”
“But the British are your friends, they are your people.” Aurora was confused.
Alan shook his head. “Not all of them. There’s something that you must understand, Aurora. We’re in the middle of a civil war. Britain is not at peace. The smoke has hardly cleared from the battlefields in Spain. You should know what a civil war is like.”
“Yes, I know what civil war is like, Alan,” Aurora said bitterly. “Father against son, brother against brother. God forbid that it should ever happen here.”
Alan shook his head sadly. “It’s too late for that, Aurora; it’s already started. This war will not be over until Britain is united and free from Fascists and Nazis and Hitler and his band of bastards are dead and buried,” Alan said with venom in his voice. “Until that day I’ll decide who the enemy is, Aurora, and I’ll fight them by whatever means are necessary.” He thought for a moment before he spoke again. “Why did you want to meet me?” Alan asked bashfully.
Aurora shrugged her shoulders. “I was curious, Alan. I looked at you and I saw you looking at me and I liked what I saw. So I told Alice that I wanted to meet you and here we are,” Aurora explained. “I had no idea that she was a special friend of yours… an ex-girlfriend, perhaps?” Aurora asked as she remembered Alice’s kiss on Alan’s cheek.
Alan laughed and shook his head. “You couldn’t be further from the truth, Aurora. Alice is my best friend’s big sister.”
“Your best friend?”
“Yes. Sam Roberts. We’re practically brothers.”
“Ah! I see,” Aurora breathed a sigh of relief. “So you do not have a girlfriend?” Aurora asked as she twisted a lock of her raven-coloured hair around her little finger.
“Me? Have a girlfriend?” Alan guffawed. “I’ve never had a girlfriend.”
“We’ll soon see about that,” Aurora said with a twinkle in her eye.
Major Juan Mendoza walked arm in arm with his daughter through the streets of Hereward, without a care in the world.
“So, Aurora, my little butterfly,” Mendoza said, “tell me about your first week at school. Have you made any new friends?”
“Yes, Papa!” Aurora answered. “They are all very nice and friendly.”
“Muy bien.” Mendoza patted Aurora’s arm.
“English, please, Papa!” Aurora scolded.
“Yes, of course, my butterfly. Sorry. Very good!”
“And I’ve met a boy!” Aurora announced proudly.
Mendoza was so shocked that he nearly walked into a lamp post.
“A… a boy?” Mendoza was at a complete loss for words. He had known that one day this day would come and he had been confident that he would be ready for it, but he had not expected this day to come… so soon. “What do you mean, Aurora? A boy? You’re too young! I forbid it!”
Aurora laughed. “What do you mean ‘you forbid it’, Papa?”
“Well,” Mendoza fumbled and stumbled, “I’m your father and I expressly forbid it and that’s my last word on the matter.”
“You forbid me to have any male friends, Papa?”
“No, my little butterfly.” Mendoza was confused. “Of course I don’t forbid you to have any male friends - in fact you must have male friends…” ...to defend you against other males who want to become your boyfriend. Oh, why didn’t Aurora have any big brothers to protect her?
“But that’s all Alan is, Papa,” Aurora explained. “A friend.” For now, Aurora thought to herself.
“Alan?” Mendoza practised pronouncing the name. “So he’s not your boyfriend, he’s just a friend?”
“I never said that he was my boyfriend, Papa. I said that he was my friend and that’s all.” Aurora looped her arm through her father’s once more and patted his hand. “Besides, I’m only fifteen, Papa. As you said, I’m far too young to have a boyfriend.”
“Well, in that case of course you can have a boy friend, I mean a boy who is a friend… a friend who is a boy…”
Aurora patted her father’s hand again. “It’s all right, Papa. I know exactly what you mean.”
With that misunderstanding successfully straightened out, the happy pair continued on their way.
“So tell me about this male friend of yours, Aurora. Alan, is it? Perhaps we should invite him around for lunch some day?”
“Oh, Papa! That would be wonderful!” Aurora hugged her father and jumped up and planted a big kiss on his cheek. “You won’t regret it! I promise!”
Mendoza was so relieved that he and Aurora had managed to clear up the confusion that he did not notice that someone was watching.
Scharführer Lothar Kophamel apologised profusely for his clumsiness as the attractive waitress knelt down to pick up the pieces of the broken pint glass. “I’m sorry for my butterfingers, fräulein,” Kophamel said as the bartender approached with a mop and bucket. He put some more money on the pub counter and then walked outside to double-check what he had seen. Yes, Kophamel nodded, it was definitely him.
Kophamel was so shaken that as he walked off to report the news, he did not notice that he was being followed.
“Are you sure, Lothar? Are you one hundred percent sure that it was him that you saw?” Hauptsturmführer Manfred von Stein asked.
“I am one hundred percent sure, sir,” Kophamel replied. “How could I forget? His face is the first thing that I see in the morning and the last thing that I see at night.” Kophamel tapped his temples three times. “I… I still have nightmares, sir.”
“It’s all right, my old friend. So do I,” von Stein admitted as he rubbed his forehead. “What have you found out about him?”
Kophamel consulted his notebook. “I found out that his name is indeed Juan Mendoza, sir, of the Spanish Foreign Legión, but he is now a major now, sir, not a captain. Mendoza is the Spanish Military Attaché based at the new Spanish Consulate here in Hereward.”
“Mein Gott!” Von Stein slammed a fist into his other hand. “That’s just our damned luck!”
Kophamel’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand, sir. You still want to kill him?”
“Of course I still want to kill him, Lothar!” von Stein exploded. “After what he did, I want to kill him, his wife, his children, his parents and everyone who knows him! I even want to kill his dog if he has one! Mendoza deserves to die a thousand deaths!” he continued furiously. “The problem is that the Spanish must never suspect that it was Germans that killed him. The Führer wants Franco to give permission for German forces to cross Spain to attack Gibraltar, and if they have even the slightest suspicion that Germans murdered their Military Attaché in Hereward then there will be absolutely no way that they will give permission, and that will also sink any chance of Spain entering the war on our side,” von Stein explained. “We will have to be very careful.”
“We could make it look like the Resistance murdered him, s
ir,” Kophamel suggested with raised eyebrows.
“Excellent idea, Lothar!” Von Stein slammed his fist into his hand. “We can kill two birds with one stone! Franco will be absolutely furious! He may well declare war on Churchill and the Free North there and then!” von Stein continued with a twinkle in his eye. He was practically frothing at the mouth in his enthusiasm. “At the very least he will give permission for our troops to cross Spain to attack the British and he may very well join in the attack with Spanish troops!” Von Stein stared off into the distance as if he could see the events unfold in the future as he had foreseen, planned and predicted.
Kophamel paused before he spoke again. “Sir, there’s something else. The icing on the cake, so to speak.”
“What is it, Lothar?” Von Stein’s ears pricked up like a cat’s.
“Remember that you said that you wanted to kill Mendoza, his family and everyone who knew him?”
“Yes,” von Stein replied. “What of it?”
Kophamel’s mouth widened like a jackal to reveal a set of gum-lined teeth.
“Mendoza has a daughter, sir…”
“Are you sure, Francisco? Are you one hundred per cent sure that it was him that you saw?” Major Mendoza asked.
“I am one hundred percent sure, sir.” Sergeant Francisco Borghese answered. “How could I forget? I still remember the sick and twisted expression on his face when he tortured that Red prisoner for fun.” Borghese shook his head in disgust as he remembered. “A look of pure sadistic delight. Besides, how could I forget such a face? That scar that stretches from his mouth to his ear is unmistakable.”
Mendoza nodded his head as he agreed. “What I don’t understand is how did the bastard survive?” He shook his head in amazement. “We must have fired a whole magazine at them.”
“Luck of the devil, sir,” Borghese answered. “The question is: did anyone else survive? There was an oberleutnant in command with Scar Face, sir, and he probably was in charge of about ten men…”
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