The Command

by Christopher Nicole

  He didn’t know if he was going to be able to do that. He didn’t know what to do about the situation he had got himself into. He did not love Jennie the way he loved Lee. And he still enjoyed making love with Lee. But Jennie appealed to the romantic side of his nature, and perhaps to the lecherous side which also lurks in every man; a woman, unusually dressed, a woman in uniform, who was now taking off that drab khaki to reveal the sexuality that lay beneath. It was the same allure that had been fascinating about Chand Bibi. Perhaps, had he taken Chand Bibi to bed, he would have exorcized it.

  Perhaps he should buy Lee a uniform.

  But for this month he must sate himself, utterly, and then cast her aside. He knew she was right. Lee probably did know all about it, and was prepared to accept it — but she could not be happy about it. And she was accepting it because she loved him. Making Lee unhappy by taking advantage of her love would be the greatest crime in the world, for him.

  A month, to sate himself. There was not a lot else to do, save burn himself up watching the incompetence revealed in the Norwegian campaign, and read in the newspapers of the gradual tightening of belts in England, and the growing feeling that the Chamberlain Government was making a mess of the war. A debate in Parliament was fixed for Tuesday, 7 May, and as Churchill wrote, ‘We are determined to get things sorted out, and start fighting a war instead of sitting on our backsides.’

  Murdoch looked forward to reading about it, but he and Jennie were still in bed on the Tuesday morning when there was a knock on the door.

  He got up, pulled on his dressing gown, released the latch, and gazed at Margriet von Reger.

  Chapter Fourteen: Holland 1940

  Murdoch could only goggle at her in amazement. She was wearing a fur coat and was very well dressed, carried a small suitcase...and looked at once agitated and relieved. ‘Won’t you let me in?’ she asked.

  He stepped back, and closed the door behind her. ‘God,’ she said. ‘I have been so afraid. Murdoch...’ She turned to face him, and then looked at the bedroom door, and Jennie, who like Murdoch had dragged on a dressing gown. Margriet looked at Murdoch again, her mouth making an O.

  ‘You chose an inopportune moment, Margriet,’ he said. ‘I hope you haven’t run away from Reger?’

  ‘And if I have? Who is this woman?’

  ‘I don’t think that is any concern of yours. Perhaps you had better get dressed, Jennie. And make us some breakfast.’

  Jennie nodded, and closed the bedroom door.

  ‘You are impossible,’ Margriet said. ‘Yes. I have left Reger. I have come to you. I had not expected...’ her shoulders sagged, and she sat down.

  ‘What did you expect, Margriet? I am a married man.’

  ‘Ha,’ she remarked. ‘Does Lee know about that woman?’

  ‘That, too, is none of your business.’

  ‘So you are going to throw me out. You took Annaliese in.

  ‘Annaliese wanted shelter.’

  ‘And what do you think I want? I have run away from Reger.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You have to ask that, after all these years?’

  ‘It is because of all these years that I have to ask that, Margriet.’

  She sighed. ‘I could stand it no longer. I can stand the Nazis no longer. My own children have turned against me. Paul has turned against me. Your son, Murdoch.’

  ‘He ceased being my son a long time ago, Margriet.’

  ‘You cannot send me back, Murdoch. Reger would kill me.’

  ‘Of course I will not send you back, Margriet. But you cannot stay here, either. I will arrange for you to be sent to England.’

  Margriet glared at Jennie, who had reappeared. ‘Breakfast is served, Sir Murdoch,’ Jennie said formally.

  ‘You are sending me away because of her,’ Margriet snapped.

  ‘I am sending you away because if you have left Reger you will be safer in England. Now come and have some breakfast.’

  ‘Suppose I told you I have information?’ Margriet asked.

  ‘What information?’

  ‘So now you are interested. Well, listen. In two days’ time Hitler is going to attack the west. The orders have been given, the men are just awaiting the hour. They are going to attack through Luxembourg into the Ardennes, through Belgium, and through Holland.’

  Murdoch stared at her, while he felt his pulse quicken. ‘Are you telling the truth?’

  ‘Of course I am telling you the truth. I only left Reger’s headquarters yesterday. He is just across the border, Murdoch. He is commanding the force which will take Holland.’

  ‘And you have just left him? Does he know where you have gone?’

  ‘Not yet. I spent the weekend with him, and then I left, to return home. But I simply got off the train at the next station east, and then took one for Holland. I have my passport, and I am the wife of a German general. No one stopped me. Murdoch, listen to me. They are going to cross the Meuse just north of München-Gladbach, and then swing up for Rotterdam and the Hague. They will be preceded by a wave of parachute troops. Do you know what gave them the idea for that? Your own exploit in India. They are going to smash through Holland in the south. They are not going to touch Fortress Holland in the north, or get entangled in the Zuider Zee. They know that if the south falls, so will the north.’

  She paused for breath, while Murdoch realized that what she had said was far too detailed for her to have made up.

  ‘Get me Dutch HQ,’ he told Jennie. ‘Tell them I’ll be over there in fifteen minutes. Call Standing as well and tell him to get dressed and meet me there.’ He ran into the bedroom and began to dress.

  Margriet followed him. ‘What are you going to do with me?’

  ‘You had better stay here. General Weenink may wish to see you personally.’

  ‘Is that woman going to be here?’

  ‘She’ll be driving me. Mind you stay put.’ He ran down the stairs, Jennie at his heels.

  ‘Do you believe her?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  But General Weenink, in charge of Intelligence, didn’t. ‘Really, General Mackinder,’ he protested, ‘We have had so many reports this winter of imminent German moves to the west, and none of them have materialized.’

  ‘Have any of them presented such a plan, the only way in which Holland can be smashed in quick time?’

  ‘Perhaps not, but I do assure you that Holland is not going to be “smashed in quick time”, as you put it. We are prepared to meet the Germans wherever they move. As for this particular information, you must agree it comes from a suspect source. A woman, running away from her husband. Naturally she is trying to buy the best terms for herself. Would you like me to lock her up?’

  ‘On what grounds?’ Murdoch asked. ‘You are not at war with Germany. Yet.’

  ‘I am sure we can think of something.’

  ‘I would prefer you to allow her to go free. I will have her sent to England just as soon as a passage can be arranged.’

  ‘As you wish,’ Weenink agreed.

  *

  Jennie drove Murdoch and Standing to their office, and Murdoch got on the scrambler to London.

  ‘Yes,’ Ironside said. ‘We have been hearing similar things from several sources. The Pope has just warned King Leopold that the Germans intend to invade his country. He didn’t name the date, mind you...’

  ‘Well, now you have the date,’ Murdoch told him. ‘May ninth. I hope you are going to do something about it.’

  ‘There is damn all we can do about it,’ Ironside said. ‘King Leopold refuses to believe it, or to allow our troops to advance into his country in anticipation of such an invasion. Unless we can move through Belgium, there is no way we can help Holland, even supposing they’d allow us to. We have plans all ready for that. But the situation remains unchanged, from our point of view. We wait for Hitler to fire the first shot.’

  ‘God Almighty! What a way to fight a war. So what are my orders?’

  ‘They are a
lso unchanged. If Hitler does move against Holland, you may be able to give them some advice. You’re the only one up there who’s actually seen action. But Murdoch, we’d prefer it if you didn’t get either killed or captured. If the Germans can’t be stopped, get out. We’ll have an aircraft sent over tomorrow, and it will stand by at your disposal. Understood?’

  ‘Yes,’ Murdoch said.

  He telephoned Broad Acres. ‘How’re things?’

  ‘Any day now,’ Lee said. ‘How’re things with you?’

  ‘They could be hotting up. No matter what happens, Lee, I want you to stay put until you hear from me again. Understood?’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You mean...’

  ‘I mean nothing I can say over the phone. Will you do as I say?’

  ‘Of course. Murdoch...you aren’t going to do anything foolish?’

  ‘I’m not being given the chance.’

  ‘Murdoch,’ she said. ‘When you come out, I mean, if you have to, bring Jennie with you.’

  ‘I have every intention of doing that,’ he said. ‘But I’ll be sending you someone in advance.’

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘Margriet von Reger has turned up in Holland, seeking asylum,’ he explained. ‘She’s run away from Reger.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’

  ‘Quite. I’m sure you can see I don’t want her hanging about here. As soon as I can get her clearance I’m sending her over to you. Is that all right?’

  ‘Well, of course it is, honey. I’ll keep her under wraps.’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘Snap. Take care.’

  He replaced the phone, looked at Jennie. ‘I think she does know,’ he said. ‘And care, about us both.’

  ‘Are we leaving?’

  ‘Not right away.’

  ‘What about Frau von Reger?’

  ‘Oh, she is.’ He telephoned the Home Office to ask for clearance for Margriet to enter England, and they told him it would be processed in due course. He kept his temper and reminded them it was urgent, then booked her into an hotel.

  ‘Can’t I stay with you?’ she asked. ‘You have a spare room.’ She had explored the flat. ‘I won’t interfere with you and your “chauffeur”!

  ‘It’s a nice hotel,’ he assured her.

  *

  There was nothing left to do but wait. ‘You really think this is it?’ Jennie said at dinner.

  ‘Yes. Scared?’

  She smiled. ‘Yes. But not with you about.’

  ‘I feel so God damned helpless,’ he confessed.

  They listened on the wireless to news of the ‘Norway debate’ in the Commons. It had apparently been lively, with even the Conservative back benchers demanding Chamberlain’s resignation.

  ‘Who’ll be PM if he goes?’ Jennie asked.

  ‘God knows. Probably Kingsley Wood. I know who I would like to be Prime Minister.’

  ‘Mr Churchill?’

  ‘Yes. With him as boss I might even be given some worthwhile employment.’

  They slept fitfully, and Murdoch was up at dawn. ‘Today’s the day,’ he said, standing at the window to look at the sky. Jennie put her arms round him.

  ‘They’re late,’ she said.

  They went to the office. Everyone was on edge.

  Murdoch took Margriet to lunch. ‘I ought to break your neck,’ he told her. ‘I am going to be the laughing stock of Holland.’

  ‘Hitler has postponed it, that is all,’ she said.

  ‘Because of your defection?’

  She smiled. ‘I am not that important. Besides, no one can possibly know as yet that I have not merely returned home. It is just that Hitler changes his mind, regularly. He has done so before, often. Do you know the original date was last November?’

  ‘So why should he have postponed it this time?’

  ‘I don’t know. There could be any one of a hundred reasons. It could even be a bad astrological forecast. He is like that.’

  ‘You mean he’s mad.’

  ‘He is very superstitious,’ she said seriously.

  That afternoon a Lysander reconnaissance aircraft landed at the small airfield outside the city, and Flying Officer Grant reported for duty.

  ‘Stand by,’ Murdoch said. ‘I may have something for you to do very shortly.’

  His optimism was justified. That evening London rang through to say that Frau von Reger had been given clearance.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ Murdoch said, and telephoned the hotel.

  ‘My plane will take you over at dawn tomorrow,’ he told her.

  ‘Will you be coming with me?’

  ‘Of course not. You’ll be landed at Croydon airport, and I have arranged transport for you. I have also arranged an hotel for you to stay in tomorrow night. Next day you will go down to Broad Acres and stay there.’

  ‘Your home,’ she said. ‘I have always wanted to visit your home. But you will not be there.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Lee is.’

  There was a moment’s silence. ‘I suppose you want me to keep my mouth shut, about...well, things.’

  ‘You are under orders to keep your mouth shut about everything,’ he told her. ‘Or I am going to have you locked up as a spy.’

  ‘Do you think she will?’ Jennie asked when he hung up. ‘She strikes me as being a vicious woman.’

  ‘Oh, she is. Or she can be. But I don’t think what she says is going to make a lot of difference. I just wish to God I knew how much of what she’s told us is the truth. But I’ve been wondering that about her all my life.’

  She poured wine, brushed her glass against his. ‘I have the strangest feeling this is the last night we shall ever spend together.’

  ‘Don’t come over all psychic on me,’ he begged. ‘You have a lot of nights left, Jennie.’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘You’ll be just lucky if you can spend most of them with some other fellow.’

  ‘I won’t, you know,’ she said.

  She was more than usually passionate, that night, and they did not fall asleep until well after midnight. To awake it seemed only moments later to the drone of aircraft, the thud of bombs, the wail of sirens, and the screams of people.

  ‘Holy hell!’ Murdoch leapt out of bed and ran for his clothes. ‘It’s happening.’ He dragged on his uniform as the entire house shook and the lights went out. Now the drone of planes was very close.

  ‘Murdoch!’ Jennie stood at the window, having raised the curtain. She wore only brassiere and pants. ‘Paratroops?’

  Murdoch stood behind her, saw the dark figures drifting down at the far end of the promenade, spitting fire as they neared the ground. He buckled on his revolver. ‘Get dressed,’ he told her, ‘and then contact Standing. Don’t get involved in any shooting, but go downstairs in case the building is hit.’

  ‘But Murdoch...’

  ‘That’s an order, Private Manly-Smith.’ He ran down the stairs. The other tenants in the building, who were mainly military attaches and their wives, were gathering in the corridors, shouting and arguing in a variety of languages. Murdoch pushed through them, reached the street. The noise of the planes and the bombs was enormous, but none were being aimed at the front — no doubt to give their paratroopers a chance; the one which had shaken the house must have been a mistake, but he could see the crater, a huge hole in the esplanade.

  There were people on the street, staring at the sky, shouting and screaming. The paratroopers had descended some distance away, and Murdoch guessed they were making for the royal palace. He ran along the street, pushing people aside, and was suddenly halted by a policeman.

  ‘No further,’ the man said in Dutch.

  Murdoch had enough of the language by now to make himself understood. ‘Your Queen is in danger,’ he said. ‘Are you armed?’

  ‘I am armed, sir,’ the policeman said. ‘But...the Queen?’

  ‘Follow me,’ Murdoch told him, and continued on his way, the policeman at his heels. Now there was firing from in front of them, the crack of r
ifles being smothered in the chatter of very light automatic weapons; the paratroopers were using Thomson submachine guns.

  In the palace gardens they encountered a platoon of Dutch infantrymen under a nervous lieutenant. ‘There are so many of them, sir,’ he said, recognizing Murdoch’s uniform in the first dawn light. ‘There are at least twenty of them holding that gate into the palace kitchens. And I have no orders.’

  ‘Well, they can’t be allowed to establish themselves,’ Murdoch said. ‘You’re at war now, boy. Are you prepared to fight?’

  ‘Oh, yes, sir.’ The lieutenant stood to attention.

  ‘And to take orders from me?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then we take that gate by assault, and work our way into the kitchen. Use whatever cover is available, but keep advancing.’

  Before they could hesitate he moved forward himself, followed, to his surprise, by the policeman. Immediately fire was opened by the Germans on the gate, but their tommy-guns had a limited range. Murdoch took shelter behind a tree, and waved his men up. The Dutch soldiers were now returning fire, and he could hear bullets clanging amongst the ironwork and shattering windows in the palace beyond. They were also hitting Germans, from the cries in front of them.

  He advanced again, surrounded by a swarm of angry bees. The policeman coughed and collapsed. Murdoch sheltered behind another tree, now only twenty yards from the gate. ‘Fix bayonets,’ he called, and listened to the rasp of steel. Now the firing from inside the palace was very loud, but then it died away. He was about to give the order to charge when a Dutch voice called out from beyond the gate, ‘Cease firing. You are surrounded.’

  Murdoch signalled his men to wait, and a moment later the Germans threw down their arms. Murdoch waved at his men to move up and himself went forward.

  ‘General Mackinder,’ said the Colonel in charge of the palace guard. ‘It is a pleasure to fight beside you, sir. These men...he looked at the Germans. ‘They were after Queen Wilhelmina. ‘

  ‘I guessed that,’ Murdoch said.

  ‘But we beat them,’ the Colonel said proudly.

  ‘Yes,’ Murdoch said. ‘Let’s hope we can beat the rest of them.’

  *