In her mind flashed images of an African safari story she’d read in National Geographic. The lions of Kenya always singled out the weakest in the rear, picking them off first. Feeding their hunger with those who couldn’t defend themselves …
“We’re losing oil,” someone called. “This doesn’t look good. If there was ever a time to pray, guys, this is it.”
Just then, Mary’s body pitched toward the ceiling as the plane dropped sharply.
“Abort flight plan. Our goal is to ditch in the Channel,” the pilot called through the interphone.
“The wing. I was right,” came another frantic voice. “It hit the tail; there’s a big hole back here….”
Mary glanced at Eddie. An oxygen mask covered his face, yet still she could see his fearful eyes peering through the goggles.
“He’s gone! No, no! Chancey’s gone! Blown out with the tail!”
“Where’s his chute!” another voice said, louder. “I don’t see any chute!”
The plane turned and continued to shudder. Mary wished that she could ask where they were. Had they made it out of Germany?
She glanced up just in time to see the bombardier making the sign of the cross.
Other B-17s around them were hit. Mary’s wide-eyed gaze watched three chutes emerge from a bomber before it made a slow spiral to the ground. What about the others?
Another aircraft exploded, leaving a smoky cloud. Below it parts of machinery fell to the ground, and Mary looked away, realizing there were most likely parts of men falling too.
“Sorry, guys, the ship’s not going to hold for the Channel.” It was the copilot’s voice, jerking with the shuddering of the plane.
“Pilot to crew. Prepare to bail out.”
Bail out? No, this can’t be possible. It has to be a bad dream.
Mary tried to remember the instructions she’d been given before she boarded the plane. Did the three short rings mean to prepare to bail or actually go?
She remembered the CO saying that when they were over enemy territory to bail out individually—that way, if someone was captured, it wouldn’t be all in one bunch. Yet hadn’t Eddie said that he’d watch after her?
The navigator. Stick with the navigator.
Eddie was out of his seat in a matter of seconds, tearing off his flak suit and hooking on a chest pack parachute. Then he pulled Mary to a standing position, stripping off her flak jacket and hooking a chute on her too. He yanked the oxygen mask from his face and yelled into her ear.
“We’re going to jump! Follow me. Count to ten after you clear the plane; then pull the rip cord.”
Mary froze, wishing desperately that she had never taken this assignment. She closed her eyes and pictured herself back home at the City Desk, answering calls. If I get out, I’m going back…. I don’t want to do this anymore…. Please, if there is a God up there somewhere, fix this plane.
The ground neared at an amazing speed, and she could feel the pilots attempting to level the plane.
“Do I really have to do it? Do I have to jump?” she said into the interphone. There was no response, no echo in her ear, and she knew the interphone was dead.
More flak erupted around them. Then three short rings. The navigator grabbed her hand and pulled her through the tunnel door. He grabbed the emergency latch to open it, but nothing happened.
One long ring.
He took her hand and rammed his shoulder against the door. She never actually felt herself leaving the aircraft. Yet within seconds she was by herself, hurtling head over heels through space.
Then everything quieted. The shouts, the sounds of the plane’s engine, the flak explosions. Mary saw only white. She knew she was supposed to count to ten, but by the time she got to eight, in a panic she pulled the cord. The white umbrella chute slowly trickled upward. Please open, please …
The parachute opened with a terrible jerk. Above her the bloom of silk made it hard to see what was happening with the other ships in the air. But she did spot a German Focke-Wulf swooping down like a rogue eagle, heading straight for a cluster of five chutes in the distance.
Who are they? Men from Destiny’s Child? But where are the other chutes?
As she glanced around, she saw one other parachute lucky enough to continue down unscathed. One close enough to make out the man’s face … the navigator.
CHAPTER TWENTY
From the moment the cold air hit his face, Eddie had been planning their means of escape from enemy territory. He noted the lady’s chute next to him—a good thing. But the others … they drifted north on an unseen breeze.
“Oh, please, no,” Eddie muttered when he spotted the Focke-Wulf sweeping down toward them. “God help them.” A simple prayer was all he could offer. He knew getting this woman to safety would take his complete concentration from this moment forward.
As he drifted downward, his mind’s eye tried to form a picture of the terrain. Sun to my back. Winding river over left shoulder. Large forested area to the right—adequate camouflage. Beyond the forest—fields bordered by hedgerows.
His arm and shoulder ached from where he’d slammed against the door. No time to think of that now.
In the distance, two villages and a larger city formed a triangle. Eddie closed his eyes and pictured the map hanging over his cot. From his best guess, the larger city was Liege.
I should have spent more time studying that booklet of Dutch phrases so I can talk to someone in this country.
The fact was, they were in Belgium, hundreds of miles from free France, with little food and no shelter. If he were alone it would be more manageable. Will the underground resistance find us? How can we ever find them?
The ground neared, and he spotted the woman already sprawled on the white snow. She was moving, attempting to get up.
Oh, Lord, help me here. I’m in way over my head. Send us a protector. Please, God. If not for my sake, then for Mary’s.
Mary floated down, eyeing the frozen field beneath her and the forest beyond. She wished she knew where they were. In Germany? She scanned the roads, expecting swastika-marked jeeps or guns pointed. Instead, everything seemed still, quiet.
She was about thirty feet above the ground when the parachute seemed to fold inward, dropping her like a rock. She squealed and attempted to get her feet under her, but instead twisted and landed with a hard thump on her rear and thigh.
She moaned and lay there for a moment, whimpering. Then suddenly a man loomed over her. “Well, Miss Kelley. I’m sure that’s something you don’t write about every day.”
“They worked,” she managed to mutter.
“The chutes? Of course they worked.”
She panted loudly. “No. My mother’s prayers.”
He tilted down, resting hands on thighs. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. Ouch.” She rubbed her leg, hoping to ease the pain.
He reached a hand toward her. It was covered with blood. “C’mon, get up.”
“Okay, but I can do it myself. Just give me a second to catch my breath.” She noticed his jacket sleeve was shredded, and a chunk of flesh on his upper arm had been torn open.
“Ugh. What happened?” Her stomach did a flip, and she looked away.
“It’s nothing. Come on, hurry. We have to get out of here.”
Mary’s chute stretched behind her. She sat there as Eddie hurriedly unbuckled her straps and pulled the silk into a bundle.
As she watched, he stripped down faster than she thought possible, rolling up his electric suit into a tight ball—except for one piece he’d ripped off and wrapped around his arm to stop the bleeding.
She struggled to her feet as he took their chutes, harnesses, and Mae West life jackets, darted to the opening of the forest, and quickly hid them under a pile of brush.
He came back with quick steps, again reaching for her hand. Mary swallowed hard as she noticed the pistol on his shoulder holster. Next to it were two extra clips of ammunition.
Mary slid he
r gloved hand into Eddie’s. “Your gun. You knew all along this could happen. That we might wind up here, on the ground, fighting for our lives.” She shivered, missing the heat from their electric flight suits.
“I told you that before you ever boarded the aircraft.” He winced, glancing down at his arm. “Come on.”
He pulled her along. The snow was so packed it was like walking on ice, but Eddie seemed to know how to dig in his boots for balance. Mary slipped and skidded behind as they darted into the woods. Pain shot up her leg with each step.
“Yes, of course,” she whispered. “I heard the words … but you knew. You’ve seen it, haven’t you? The planes, the chutes.”
“Shhh …” He placed a finger over his lips and continued on.
She looked back, thankful they left no footprints, no drops of blood, on the hard-packed snow.
Then she heard it. The sound of vehicles approaching on a nearby road—Germans who no doubt had seen their chutes billowing in the cloudless sky.
Eddie tightened his grip on her hand, increasing his speed.
What a fool, she thought. What a fool I am. And all for a story. Why did my father let me do this?
“Here.” Eddie whispered the single word, and then motioned to a dry irrigation ditch surrounded by thick shrubs.
She curled onto the cold dirt bottom, and Eddie slid next to her, pulling the shrubs over them as best he could. Her whole body quivered. She couldn’t stop the shaking. She looked to see Eddie. They were face-to-face, but he was gazing upward, peering through the thin layer of brush covering them.
Are they coming? Will they find us?
She wanted to ask, but it was almost as if she wasn’t there at all—he was so fixed on keeping watch for any sign of danger.
Minutes passed, then Mary was sure she heard a noise. Footsteps nearing. She held her breath, and Eddie’s gaze finally met hers. Yet instead of fear, she saw a deep sadness—almost an apology.
He pulled the gun from his holster and aimed it upward. The footsteps came closer, and he cocked the trigger.
Outside their den, she heard the scraping of more brush; then the bits of blue sky turned into blackness. Then more brush, and a heavier burden covering their bodies. Finally a voice.
“Comrade. You safe. Germans follow my friend, wrong way. I return. Be still.”
“Thank you,” Eddie answered softly, but the man was already gone, his quick footsteps hurrying away.
Mary leaned close until her lips nearly touched Eddie’s ear. “What if he’s on the wrong side? What if he’s going to turn us in?”
“No, I trust him.” His breath was warm on her cheek. “We’re in Belgium. The people help us. They hate the Nazis. Besides, I’ve been praying for a rescuer from the first sound of the alarm. Praying for someone to lead us home.”
With a soft sigh, he uncocked his gun and slid it back into its holster.
Eddie didn’t know how many hours had passed as day twilighted into night, but he was chilled to the core. And his arm. He’d ripped the sleeve off his shirt and had Mary tie it into a bandage, but still he was losing feeling in it. Before, it had been warm and sticky with blood; now it felt like a cold, dead thing hanging from his shoulder. Ignoring the pain, he wrapped his good arm around Mary. She eagerly pulled her body next to his.
Go figure. Never imagined this is what it would take to get a girl under my arm.
Eddie sighed and gazed at the feisty blonde. If captured, he knew he’d be taken to a POW camp, but what would they do with her? He shivered. Lord, please keep her safe.
“Eddie,” she said in the gentlest whisper. “What if they find us? What if … ?”
“Shh, don’t say it. We’ll be okay.”
He heard the slightest noise and lifted a branch. It was the man with the cap, stealthily moving toward them in the dimness, ducking and hiding behind trees, shrubs—every bit of natural cover the earth offered.
Eddie crawled to the edge of the ditch. “Bonjour.”
The man pushed back the brush and shook his head as he noticed Eddie’s arm. “You have escape kit? Yes?” He moved his hands to emulate a needle going into skin.
Morphine. Eddie knew the man was telling him to use the morphine from his kit. He shook his head. “No, I will be fine. I need to save it. For later.”
The man shrugged his shoulders. “Then we go now.” He helped Eddie out of the ditch first, then reached a hand to Mary. Seeing her face, the man leapt back in surprise. Obviously with her flight helmet and bulky clothing, he’d not noticed she was a woman. “Lady flyer?” their rescuer said in a loud whisper. “No. Cannot be.”
“A women re-port-er.” Mary motioned as if opening a newspaper.
“You on plane?” He pointed to the sky.
“Yes. We were shot down.”
Their rescuer stroked his chin as if unsure whether to believe them. “We help flyers. We do not know about this.”
Eddie took Mary’s hand and pulled her to his side. “Both of us. We are together.” He felt her give his hand a warm squeeze.
Then the man stepped close, studying Mary’s face. His eyes brightened. “Yes! I know this face from paper. Jack the Crew Chief! Come, come.”
It took nearly an hour to steal through the forest, darting from tree to tree, careful to keep the snow-crunching sounds to a minimum. Their eyes peered through the naked elms, branches reaching to the myriad of stars. Mary was glad for the moonlight that reflected a lavender hue on the snow.
Soon they were led into a small barn. Mary held her nose at the stench, and a grunt from the corner told her they were not the sole occupants.
The man shut the door behind him, and Eddie collapsed onto the ground as if unable to take another step. The man lit a lantern and hung it from the rafter. The swaying light bounced around the room, illuminating their guide’s face. He was older than she imagined. He was so quick and agile.
“I am Roger. Dis my barn. And dis—” He turned to the pig in the corner. “Dis my darling Eva. If Hitler have such a woman, I do too. Yes?”
Eddie leaned up on his good arm and pulled a silk map out of his flight suit. “Sir, can you tell me where we are?”
“No, first we fix that arm. I be back.”
Mary glanced around the barn. A rickety ladder led up to a loft. Not counting the dirty hay the pig slept on, there was nowhere else to hide. No place to keep warm. With all the coats and the traipsing through the woods, she wasn’t really cold. But she knew she would be. Soon.
“Eddie, do you think we’ll be okay here? I mean, is this our best option?”
His face was pale, even in the golden light. “I don’t think we have a choice.”
He gripped the part of his sleeve that was soaked with blood, then winced. “I think my arm caught on something on the hatch door when I was trying to get it open.”
She knelt beside him and gingerly tugged on the fabric. Be strong, Mary. You can do this.
She succeeded with getting a tear started. She was so grateful he’d helped her, so grateful they hadn’t been shot out of the sky. She thought about the others. Marty, the pilot who was so fatherly. That Vinny with his wickedly handsome grin.
“Eddie, the other guys. Do you think … ?”
He looked away, his voice quivering. “I don’t want to guess what happened to them. I saw some chutes, but not enough … I just don’t know.”
Within a few minutes, Roger returned with a basin of water, some strips of cloth, and a pair of scissors. A few handmade quilts hung over his shoulder.
He handed the blankets to Mary and waved her out of the way. Then he quickly went to work cutting off the torn fabric, cleaning the wound, and bandaging it with fresh cloth. A pool of blood had soaked the hay under Eddie’s arm.
“You rest now.” Roger rose to his feet. “I keep watch, but I think the Germans got cold and tired too.”
Eddie once again pointed to the silk map.
“Liege.” The word rolled off the man’s tongue. “It is that c
ity. Filled with Germans, yes. But do not worry. We have a way …” He paused and looked at Mary as if remembering. Then he pulled out torn pieces of newsprint from his jacket. The paper was stained and smelled of fish, but sure enough—there was her face, smiling in black-and-white.
“Yes, that’s me.” She pointed to herself.
The man grinned broadly and nodded. “Then we find a way for airman and America’s Sweetheart, yes?”
The man motioned for Mary to lie next to Eddie. She obliged, and he covered them both with the intricately sewn quilts. Seemingly satisfied, the man blew out the lamp and closed the door behind him. She heard him hunkering down outside the door.
“I think your prayers were answered, Eddie. Can you believe it? A barn and a pig.” As if agreeing, the sow snorted from her corner.
“And can you believe your pretty face in the paper saved your life?” he whispered.
“Well, if it weren’t for that paper, I suppose I wouldn’t be here. What was I thinking?”
“Still …” Eddie’s voice was strained, most likely from the pain. “What a smart way to smuggle information—in newspapers wrapped around smelly fish.”
“I feel honored.” Mary curled closer to his side, a warmth flooding over her as if she’d known Eddie for years, not just one day. “I just hope they’re as smart in smuggling us out.”
Hendrick leaned back in his office chair and studied the locked door. It was after hours, and his plan was to slip in and slip out without anyone knowing he was here.
The image of the nurse whisking the baby away came to him again. The child had lain limp in her arms, but had it just been Hendrick’s imagination or had he seen the infant’s chest rise and fall? He’d replayed the image in his mind so many times that now he was sure it had.
He wished he’d asked to view the body. At the time, his only thought was to flee. To try to make sense of Katrine’s words. But now …
I will find him.
Yet first, Hendrick had a job to do. He must find Katrine’s file before Lydia did. While she expected all Katrine’s paperwork to be in order, Hendrick knew differently. He’d been foolish for not going through the proper procedures, but honestly, how could anyone look at the girl and not believe she was pure Aryan? Genes do not lie. The blood of the pure and impure could be evidenced by one look at a person’s face. Couldn’t it?
Arms of Deliverance Page 20