Neumann cursed suddenly 'Dammit, the barrel's hot.'
'That is so, Herr Oberleutnant,' Scheid said. 'You must be careful to hold only the canvas insulating cover. The silencer tubes heat rapidly when the weapon is fired on full automatic.'
Scheid was from the Ordnance Depot at Hamburg, a small, rather insignificant man in steel spectacles and the shabbiest uniform Steiner had ever seen. He moved across to a groundsheet on which various weapons were displayed 'The Sten gun, in both the silenced and normal versions, will be the machine pistol you will use. As regards alight machine-gun, the Bren. Not as good a general purpose weapon as our own MG-forty-two, but an excellent section weapon. It fires in either single shots or bursts of four or five rounds so it's very economical and highly accurate.'
'What about rifles?' Steiner asked.
Before Scheid could reply, Neumann tapped Steiner on the shoulder and the Colonel turned in time to see the Stork come in low from the direction of the Ijsselmeer and turn for its first circuit over the airstrip.
Steiner said, 'I'll take over for a moment, Sergeant.' He turned to the men 'From now on what Staff Sergeant Scheid says goes. You've got a couple of weeks, and by the time he's finished with you I'll expect you to be able to take these things apart and put them together again with your eyes closed.' He glanced at Brandt 'Any assistance he wants, you see that he gets it, understand?'
Brandt sprang to attention 'Herr Oberst.'
'Good,' Steiner's glance seemed to take in each man as an individual 'Most of the time Oberleutnant Neumann and myself will be in there with you. And don't worry You'll know what it's all about soon enough, I promise you.'
Brandt brought the entire group to attention. Steiner saluted, then turned and hurried across to the field car which was parked nearby followed by Neumann. He got into the passenger seat, Neumann climbed behind the wheel and drove away As they approached the main entrance to the airstrip the military policeman on duty opened the gate and saluted awkwardly, hanging on to his snarling guard dog with the other hand.
'One of these days that brute is going to get loose.' Neumann said. 'and frankly. I don't think it knows which side it's on.'
The Stork dropped in for an excellent landing and four or five Luftwaffe personnel raced out to meet it in a small truck. Neumann followed in the field car and pulled up a few yards away from the Stork Steiner lit a cigarette as they waited for Radl to disembark.
Neumann said, 'He's got someone with him.'
Steiner looked up with a frown as Max Radl came towards him a cheerful smile on his face. 'Kurt, how goes it?' he called, hand outstretched.
But Steiner was more interested in his companion the tall, elegant young man with the deathshead of the SS in his cap. 'Who's your friend, Max?' he asked softly.
Radl's smile was awkward as he made the necessary introduction Colonel Kurt Steiner - Untersturmfuhrer Harvey Preston of the British Free Corps
.
Steiner had had the old living-room of the farmhouse converted into the nerve centre for the entire operation. There were a couple of army cots at one end of the room for himself and Neumann and two large tables placed down the centre were covered with maps and photos of the Hobs End and Studley Constable general area. There was also a beautifully made three-dimensional mock-up as yet only half completed Radl leaned over it with interest a glass of brandy in one hand. Ritter Neumann stood on the other side of the table and Steiner paced up and down by the window smoking furiously.
Radl said, 'This model is really superb. Who's working on it?'
'Private Klugl.' Neumann told him. 'He was an artist I think before the war.'
Steiner turned impatiently. 'Let's stick to the matter in hand, Max Do you seriously expect me to take that - that object out there?.'
'It's the Reichsfuhrer's idea not mine.' Radl said mildly. 'In matters like this my dear Kurt. I take orders. I don't give them.'
'But he must be mad'
Radl nodded and went to the sideboard to help himself to more cognac. 'I believe that has been suggested before.'
'All right.' Steiner said. 'Let's look at it from the purely practical angle. If this thing is to succeed it's going to need a highly disciplined body of men who can move as one think as one act as one and that's exactly what we've got. Those lads of mine have been to hell and back, Crete, Leningrad, Stalingrad and a few places in between and I was with them every step of the way. Max there are times when I don't even have to give a spoken order.'
'I accept that completely.'
'Then how on earth do you expect them to function with an outsider at this stage especially one like Preston?' He picked up the file Radl had given him and shook it. 'A petty criminal a poseur who's acted since the day he was born even to himself.' He threw the file down in disgust. 'He doesn't even know what real soldiering is.'
'What's more to the point at the moment or so it seems to me.' Ritter Neumann put it. 'he's never jumped out of an aeroplane in his life.'
Radl took out one of his Russian cigarettes and Neumann lit it for him. 'I wonder Kurt whether you're letting your emotions run away with you in this matter.'
'All right.' Steiner said. 'So my American half hates his lousy guts because he's a traitor and a turncoat and my German half isn't too keen on him either.' He shook his head in exasperation. 'Look Max have you any idea what jump training is like.' He turned to Neumann. 'Tell him Ritter.'
'Six jumps go into the paratroopers qualification badge and after that, never less than six a year if he wants to keep it.' Neumann said 'And that applies to everyone from private to general officer. Jump pay is sixty-five to one hundred and twenty Reichsmarks per month, according to rank.'
'So?' Radl said.
'To earn it you train on the ground for two months, make your first jump alone from six hundred feet. After that, five jumps in groups and in varying light conditions, including darkness, bringing the altitude down all the time and then the grand finale. Nine plane-loads dropping together in battle conditions at under four hundred feet.'
'Very impressive,' Radl said 'On the other hand, Preston has to jump only once, admittedly at night, but to a large and very lonely beach. A perfect dropping zone as you have admitted yourselves. I would have thought it not beyond the bounds of possibility to train him sufficiently for that single occasion.'
Neumann turned in despair to Steiner, 'What more can I say?'
'Nothing,' Radl said, 'because he goes. He goes because the Reichsfuhrer thinks it a good idea.'
'For God's sake,' Steiner said 'It's impossible. Max, can't you see that?'
'I'm returning to Berlin in the morning.' Rafll replied. 'Come with me and tell him yourself it that's how you feel. Or would you rather not?'
Steiner's face was pale 'Damn you to hell Max, you know I can't and you know why.' For a moment he seemed to have difficulty in speaking. 'My father - he's all right? You've seen him?'
'No,' Radl said 'But the Reichsfuhrer instructed me to tell you that you have his personal assurance in this matter.'
'And what in the hell is that supposed to mean?' Steiner took a deep breath and smiled ironically. 'I know one thing. If we can take Churchill, who I might as well tell you now is a man I've always personally admired and not just because we both had an American mother, then we can drop in on Gestapo Headquarters in Prinz Albrechtstrasse and grab that little shit any time we want. Come to think of it, that's quite an idea.' He grinned at Neumann.
'What do you think, Ritter?'
'Then you'll take him?' Radl said eagerly 'Preston, I mean?'
'Oh, I'll take him all right,' Steiner said, 'only by the time I've finished, he'll wish he'd never been born.' He turned to Neumann 'All right, Ritter. Bring him in and I'll give him some idea of what hell is going to be like.'
.
When Harvey Preston was in repertory he'd once played a gallant young British officer in the trenches of the First World War in that great play Journey's End. A brave, war-weary young veteran, old bey
ond his years, able to meet death with a wry smile on his face and a glass raised, at least symbolically, in his right hand. When the roof of the dug-out finally collapsed and the curtain fell, you simply picked yourself up and went back to the dressing room to wash the blood off.
But not now. This was actually happening, terrifying in its implication and quite suddenly he was sick with fear. It was not that he had lost any faith in Germany's ability to win the war. He believed in that totally. It was simply that he preferred to be alive to see the glorious day for himself.
It was cold in the garden and he paced nervously up and down, smoking a cigarette and waiting impatiently for some sign of life from the farmhouse. His nerves were jagged. Steiner appeared at the kitchen door 'Preston!' he called in English 'Get in here.'
He turned without another word. When Preston went into the living-room, he found Steiner, Radl and Ritter Neumann grouped around the map table.
'Herr Oberst,' he began.
'Shut up!' Steiner told him coldly. He nodded to Radl. 'Give him his orders.'
Radl said formally, 'Untersturmfuhrer Harvey Preston of the British Free Corps, from this moment you are to consider yourself under the total and absolute command of Lieutenant-Colonel Steiner of the Parachute Regiment. This by direct order of Reichsfuhrer Heinrich Himmler himself. You understand?'
As far as Preston was concerned Radl might as well have worn a black cap, for his words were like a death sentence. There was sweat on his forehead as he turned to Steiner and stammered, 'But Herr Oberst, I've never made a parachute jump.'
'The least of your deficiencies,' Steiner told him grimly 'But we'll take care of all of them, believe me.'
'Herr Oberst, I must protest,' Preston began and Steiner cut in on him like an axe falling.
'Shut your mouth and get your feet together. In future you speak when you're spoken to and not before.' He walked round behind Preston who was by now standing rigidly to attention 'All you are at the moment is excess baggage. You're not even a soldier, just a pretty uniform. We'll have to see if we can change that, won't we?' There was silence and he repeated the question quite softly into Preston's left ear 'Won't we?'
He managed to convey an infinite menace, and Preston said hurriedly, 'Yes. Herr Oberst.'
'Good. So now we understand each other.' Steiner walked round to the front of him again, 'Point number one - at the moment the only people at Landsvoort who know the purpose for which this whole affair had been put together are the four of us present in this room. If anyone else finds out before. I'm ready to tell them because of a careless word from you, I'll shoot you myself Understand?'
'Yes, Herr Oberst.'
'As regards rank, you cease to hold any for the time being Lieutenant Neumann will see that you're provided with parachutists' overalls and a jump smock. You'll therefore be indistinguishable from the rest of your comrades with whom you will be training. Naturally there will be certain additional work necessary in uour case, but we'll come to that later. Any questions?'
Preston's eyes burned, he could hardly breathe so great was his rage. Radl said gently, 'Of course Herr Untersturmfuhrer, you could always return to Berlin with me if dissatisfied and take up the matter personally with the Reichsfuhrer.'
In a choked whisper, Preston said 'No questions.'
'Good,' Steiner turned to Ritter Neumann 'Get him kitted out, then hand him over to Brandt I'll speak to you about his training schedule later.' He nodded to Preston 'All right, you're dismissed.'
Preston didn't give the Nazi party salute because it suddenly occurred to him that it would very possibly not be appreciated Instead he saluted, turned and stumbled out Ritter Neumann grinned and went after him.
As the door closed. Steiner said, 'After that I really do need a drink,' and he moved across to the sideboard and poured a cognac
'Will it work out, Kurt?' Radl asked.
'Who knows?' Steiner smiled wolfish. 'With luck he might break a leg in training.' He swallowed some of his brandy 'Anyway, to more important matters. How's Devlin doing at the moment?. Any more news?'
.
In her small bedroom in the old farmhouse above the marsh at Hobs End, Molly Prior was trying to make herself presentable for Devlin, due to arrive for his dinner as promised at any moment. She undressed quickly and stood in front of the mirror in the old mahogany wardrobe for a moment in pants and bra and examined herself critically. The underwear was neat and clean, but showed signs of numerous repairs. Well that was all right and the same for everybody. There were never enough clothing coupons to go round. It was what was underneath that mattered and that wasn't too bad. Nice, firm breasts, round hips, good thighs.
She placed a hand on her belly and thought of Devlin touching her like that and her stomach churned. She opened the top drawer of the dresser, took out her only pair of pre-war silk stockings, each one darned many times and rolled them on carefully. Then she got the cotton dress that she had worn on Saturday from the wardrobe.
As she pulled it over her head, there was the sound of a car horn. She peered out of the window in time to see an old Morris drive into the farmyard. Father Vereker was at the wheel. Molly cursed softly, eased the dress over her head, splitting a seam under one arm and pulled on her Sunday shoes with the two-inch heels.
As she went downstairs she ran a comb through her hair, wincing as it snagged on the tangles. Vereker was in the kitchen with her mother and he turned and greeted her with what for him was a surprisingly warm smile.
'Hello, Molly, how are you?'
'Hard pressed and hard worked. Father.' She tied an apron about her waist and said to her mother. That meat and tatie pie. Ready is it? He'll be here any minute.'
'Ah, you're expecting company.' Vereker stood up, leaning on his stick. 'I'm in the way. A bad time.'
'Not at all, Father,' Mrs. Prior said. 'Only Mr Devlin, the new warden at Hobs End. He's having his dinner here, then giving us an afternoon's work. Was there anything special?'
Vereker turned to look at Molly, speculatively, noting the dress, the shoes and there was a frown on his face as if he disapproved of what he saw. Molly flared angrily. She put her left hand on her hip and faced him belligerently.
'Was it me you wanted. Father?' she asked, her voice dangerously calm.
'No, it was Arthur I wanted a word with. Arthur Seymour. He helps you up here Tuesdays and Wednesdays, doesn't he?'
He was lying, she knew that instantly. 'Arthur Seymour doesn't work here any more, Father. I'd have thought you'd have known that. Or didn't he tell you I sacked him?'
Vereker was very pale. He would not admit it, yet he was not prepared to lie to her face. Instead he said. 'Why was that, Molly?'
'Because I didn't want him round here any more.'
He turned to Mrs. Prior enquiringly. She looked uncomfortable, but shrugged. 'He's not fit company for man nor beast.'
He made a bad mistake then and said to Molly, 'The feeling in the village is that he's been hard done to. That you should have a better reason than preference for an outsider. Hard on a man who's bided his time and helped where he could. Molly.'
'Man,' she said. 'Is that what he is, Father? I never realized. You could tell 'em he was always sticking his hand up my skirt and trying to feel me.' Vereker's face was very white now, but she carried on remorselessly. 'Of course, people in the village might think that all right, him having acted no different round females since he was twelve years old and no one ever did a thing about it. And you don't seem to be shaping no better.'
'Molly!' her mother cried, aghast.
'I see,' Molly said. 'One mustn't offend a priest by telling him the truth, is that what you're trying to say?' There was contempt on her face when she looked at Vereker. 'Don't tell me you don't know what he's like, Father. He never misses Mass Sundays so you must confess him often enough.'
She turned from the furious anger in his eyes as there was a knock at the door, smoothing her dress over her hips as she hurried to answer. But when
she opened the door it wasn't Devlin, but Laker Armsby who stood there rolling a cigarette beside the tractor with which he'd just towed in a trailer loaded with turnips.
He grinned. 'Where you want this lot then, Molly?'
'Damn you. Laker, you choose your times, don't you? In the barn. Here, I'd better show you myself or you're bound to get it wrong.'
She started across the yard, picking her way through the mud in her good shoes and Laker trailed after her. 'Dressed up like a dog's dinner today. Now I wonder why that should be, Molly?'
'You mind your business. Laker Armsby.' she told him. 'and get this door open.'
Laker tipped the holding bar and started to open one of the great barn doors. Arthur Seymour was standing on the other side, his cap pulled low over the mad eyes, the massive shoulders straining the seams of the old reefer coat. 'Now then. Arthur.' Laker said warily.
Jack Higgins - Eagle Has Landed Page 21