Jubilee- Spies and Raiders
Page 24
Faraday didn’t bother to ask, implicitly trusting his executive officer, and quickly signed the document.
“You have a meeting with Group in three hours.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I believe Air Vice-Marshal Leigh-Mallory will be there.”
“Anything in particular I should mention?”
“Big wings don’t work.” Vance shrugged with sly laugh.
Faraday chuckled, remembering the last time he told Leigh-Mallory that his beloved big-wing tactics didn’t work, “My ass hasn’t grown back from the last time Leigh-Mallory chewed it.”
He finished signing a handful of other documents Vance needed and got up from his desk. Without a word to anyone, he strolled out of the shack and hopped on his old Norton motorcycle, revved the engine, and took off. RAF Martlesham Heath was roughly a two-hour drive from RAF Uxbridge where No. 11 Command was headquartered, and Faraday looked forward to every second of the drive.
As his old Norton roared through the English countryside, Faraday turned his mind off and allowed himself a respite from being a squadron leader and just enjoyed the ride.
The ride felt quicker than two hours, but when Faraday finally arrived at Uxbridge he quickly made his way to the auditorium where the other squadron leaders were waiting impatiently for Leigh-Mallory.
As Faraday inspected the bleachers, looking for a few familiar faces, he noticed that a number of squadron leaders were absent. Faraday understood why. The war stopped for no one, and not everyone was able to pull away from their commands for five hours. The only reason Faraday had come was because he had heard a rumor that there was going to be a significant change in how the RAF was going to fight the war.
He continued to scan the crowd and spotted Michael King and walked over to him.
“Good Morning, Mike, how goes the war?”
“Ian, surprised to see you here.”
“I heard we were going to discuss some new tactics today, that’s why I came.”
“As long as it isn’t big wing tactics, I’m all ears.”
Faraday chuckled, “God I hope not. How is the one twenty-first?”
“Good. We’ve been conducting an aggressive amount of Rhubarb missions over Normandy.”
“Likewise. It would seem that the Royal Air Force is getting her pound of flesh from the Eagle Squadrons.”
“I was hoping to bring up crew rest today. It’s becoming a major concern again. We need more pilots or fewer missions.”
Faraday rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Good luck with that. That’s a War Office problem.”
“You’d figure your American brethren would pick up the slack. When do you think you’ll be transferred over to the US Army Air Corps?”
“Hopefully never. I have dual citizenship because of my mother, so I’m sure I can parlay that to stay with the RAF.”
“I’d keep that close to the chest if I were you. Don’t bring it up until you have to.”
Faraday nodded in agreement and looked toward the auditorium door. He spotted Leigh-Mallory’s aide-de-camp and a few other members of his staff loitering near the door. As if on cue, the door opened and Air Vice-Marshal Leigh-Mallory strode into the auditorium.
Someone called them to attention and King and Faraday quickly shot up out of their chairs. Leigh-Mallory quickly put them at ease and made his way over to a handful of squadron leaders he recognized and shook their hands.
“Ever the politician,” King observed quietly.
Leigh-Mallory returned to the center stage and gazed impassively out at all of his squadron leaders. “Good day, gentlemen. I’ve asked you all here because we will be conducting a fundamental change to our tactics and priorities in how we conduct sweeps over Normandy and other regions.” He motioned to a member of his staff, who brought a large chart out and quickly set it down behind Leigh-Mallory. “As you no doubt have heard, these past few months the army has finally started to put some points on the board. In order for them to continue to make progress, we need to begin focusing not only on engaging targets of opportunity but also gathering vital intelligence so our land forces can begin to decisively engage Nazi forces on the ground.”
Faraday leaned his head closer to King’s and said, “I thought we were already doing that?”
“It wasn’t in a verbal order from Leigh-Mallory, so it wasn’t official.”
Faraday shook his head slowly in annoyance. “We do this already.”
Leigh-Mallory continued to speak about the importance of continuing to provide up-to-date intelligence to the Army, and the continued effort to engage enemy logistics trains across the channel. As Leigh-Mallory continued to speak, the aide behind him switched charts and presented a map of Normandy. This garnered Faraday’s interest.
The map was detailed and showed a number of routes that Faraday’s squadron conducted sweeps around. What made it so interesting to Faraday was that it also showed the sweep routes of other squadrons. They were all focused on Normandy.
Faraday turned and exchanged glances with King; they’d both noticed it.
“You think it’s the invasion?”
King shook his head. “Far too early. Must be something else.”
Faraday nodded and continued to listen, hoping Leigh-Mallory would explain the map.
After thirty minutes of lecturing, Leigh-Mallory still hadn’t expounded on the significance of the sweep tracks on the map.
Faraday groaned softly as Leigh-Mallory continued to drone on about targets of opportunity and occasionally pointed to the map but never discussed it.
“Just get to the point man,” King murmured. As he spoke, Leigh-Mallory’s aide got his attention and motioned to his watch.
“Forgive me, gentlemen, I hate to cut this short, but I have a pressing meeting I must depart for.” Leigh-Mallory smiled gamely. “The Prime Minister is requesting a brief on our successful air campaign.” He nodded to them and turned and without another word strode out. Someone called them to attention as he left and Faraday and King shot out of their seats.
“What just happened?”
Faraday shook his head in confusion. “I honestly have no idea. You call every squadron leader in for a briefing and then you leave in the middle of it? What a waste of time.” The auditorium started to empty as squadron leaders started to disappear out the door to get back to their squadrons. Faraday and King walked over to the maps that had been left by Mallory’s aide and started to study them.
“Look at this one.” King pointed at the last map. It was a detailed layout of west Normandy and showed multiple airfields in Southern England.
Faraday shifted his weight from foot to foot as he studied the map. “Maybe it’s a raid?”
“Like Saint-Nazaire? It definitely looks bigger.”
“And closer. We’d have a longer flight time over the target.”
“If that’s what it is, you can bet that the Eagle Squadrons will be taking the lead for it.”
Faraday studied the map intently. Whatever it was, he was sure it would be an attack en force by the RAF. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.” He checked his watch. “I gotta get back to Martlesham Heath. I’ll see you soon, Mike.”
“Enjoy the drive. Say hello to the chaps for me.”
***
Cutter looked up and down the street, eyeing the shops next to Claude’s bakery. The entire street was vacant, and there was a palpable tension in the town. As small and quaint as Quiberville was, its main street rarely lacked business. But with the growing presence of the SS in the area and the murmured rumor that the Gestapo were there, too, fewer people were on the roads and those that were avoided socializing in the open.
Cutter looked around in a daze. He couldn’t believe how much had changed in less than a month. The shadow of the SS and Gestapo occupation had finally forced the villagers to hide during
the day for fear of being stopped and questioned. The derelict town made Cutter feel isolated. He surprised himself by absently reaching for Talia’s hand for comfort only to feel her limply return his grip.
“We reaped what you sowed.”
“I’m sorry this happened.” Cutter watched as a young boy scampered out of Claude’s bakery with a loaf of bread and darted through a hedgerow.
Talia eyed Olivier impassively. He seemed earnest, but she had no way of knowing if his sorrow was genuine. The hurt look on his face when she had told him that the pistol was for him had pained her. But she couldn’t tell what was and wasn’t an act with him. “Not nearly as sorry as we are,” she said bitterly.
Cutter gave Talia a anguished look but kept his thoughts to himself. Words would do little to sway her.
“It’s changed so much . . . but is still the same.”
“Is it not as friendly as London?”
“Maybe friendlier. You should meet my boss,” Cutter chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. He looked over at Talia, his smile fading as she shot him a look of annoyance. “Right, I’ve seen enough.” They walked back to the cottage in silence, Cutter making a handful of mental notes as they went, looking for any clues to a change in the German occupation. “Other than the SS and Gestapo being here, is there anything else I should know?” he asked when they walked back inside Talia’s house.
“The garrison has been moved closer to Dieppe. They’re now in Varengeville-sur-Mer, along with an artillery battery.”
“By the church?”
“Down the road from it.”
“Sounds like Varengeville-sur-Mer is being used to protect Dieppe’s flank.” He thought about the geographic placement of all the garrisons. At a glance it looked as though the Germans were surrounding the city with fortifications. It made sense. As the largest municipality in the region, Dieppe gave them a hub to control and defend the region from. That didn’t surprise Cutter. What worried him was how big were the defenses? If Mountbatten’s raid was going to be as big as Hambro said, you could forget any chance of surprise being a key factor for success. It would be a true test of Hitler’s Atlantic Wall, and if that were the case, there was little room for error in appraising the Nazi defenses. “I hate to say it, but I think we need to go to Dieppe.”
Talia’s eyebrows raised in surprise. She had wanted to go into Dieppe for some time, but Claude had thought it too risky. The last person she had expected to want to go there was Olivier. Her eyes narrowed. Why now? She studied Olivier for a moment. He had said he changed but had that been said for her benefit or did he mean it? “It’s risky. We could get caught or killed. Are you sure you want to take the chance?”
Cutter’s shoulder’s drooped as he let out a long breath but nodded. “We must.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That’s not a good enough reason anymore, Olivier.”
Cutter eyed her for a long moment. She had changed since he had last seen her. He couldn’t blame her for doubting him. Cutter ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the kitchen counter. Time to be up-front with her. He sucked in a breath and gave a low whistle between his teeth as he exhaled. “We’re raiding Dieppe. That’s why I’m here.”
“You said you were here to help us fight.”
“Technically, I am.”
“You lied to us again.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“You weren’t honest.”
“Touché.”
Talia fixed him with a stern look. “You’ve lied to me twice. Give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”
A small smirk tugged at the corners of Cutter’s mouth, but Talia wasn’t amused. “I just told you the truth. If you can’t see how difficult that was for me, then maybe you should go ahead and shoot me. I could have just as easily fed you some rubbish about how I needed a firm assessment of all cities in the area, but I chose to tell you the truth because I trust you.”
Talia crossed her arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Why?”
“It’s difficult to say.”
“Is it more difficult than getting shot?”
Cutter shook his head and looked up at the ceiling, searching the wooden timbers for an answer. “When I went back to England the only thing I thought about the whole time was what you said to me before I left.”
“You’re telling me the truth because I hurt your feelings?”
Cutter paused, unsure how to respond. When he did, his tone was soft and fragile, his voice a husky whisper. “No, it’s because I have feelings for you.”
Talia stayed silent, still unconvinced.
“The thought of you thinking of me as a coward or something less drives me crazy. The whole time I was home I couldn’t think straight. The memory of us in your bedroom . . .” Cutter trailed off, unsure what else to say.
Talia looked away from Cutter, her long chestnut hair obscuring her face,. “So you came back because of me?” Cutter watched as the gears turned behind Talia’s eyes. She was deliberating on what to do. Cutter could tell that what he said had touched a nerve. He wondered which one and what she would do. After a long pause, Talia opened her mouth, her words measured and her voice firm. “We’ll see how true your words are. I still don’t trust you, but I am willing to give you a chance.”
“That’s all I need.”
“What now?”
“We need to see Dieppe.”
“And if we’re arrested?”
“They have no reason to arrest us. Our papers are in order, my cover is intact, and it’s not unusual for two lovers to go into the town for a day.”
Talia frowned but her eyes had a look of amusement in them. “Don’t go and think all is forgiven, Olivier. It’s not.”
Cutter nodded. “I’ll get the car.” Without another word he strolled back outside and started the car. A few moments later, Talia followed him out.
“This is a bad idea. Just so you know,” Talia murmured as Cutter put the car in drive and rolled out of the alley. “Claude would have a heart attack if he knew.”
“Claude can sod off. Do you have a better idea?”
Talia remained silent. They rolled through the main road of Quiberville, passing Claude’s bakery. As they passed the church where they had witnessed Amsel execute the priest and Jewish family, Cutter decided to say something. “So about that night, after we went to the church . . .”
“What about it?”
“Was I just a source of comfort that night?” Cutter snuck a quick look and took his eyes off the road.
A smile briefly flickered at the corners of Talia’s mouth. “You have a lot to learn about women.”
Cutter grunted but said nothing. He continued to drive in silence unsure of what to say. He looked back at Talia anxiously, the words choked in his throat as he said, “I thought about you a lot in England.” His face turned red at the admission, but he continued, “When I was told I was coming back, it was a real ballbuster. The only thing that kept me from losing it was knowing I’d see you.”
Talia turned and looked at him, her eyes softened and she stared at Cutter for a long moment. He did his best to split his focus between the road and her. He thought she was about to tell him off but spotted a tear forming in the corner of her eye. Just as he saw it, she turned away and pretended to look out the window.
They drove on in silence the rest of the trip, with Talia giving directions occasionally. It wasn’t long before they reached Dieppe. As they drove into the outskirts of the town, the hairs on Cutter’s neck stood up as he spotted numerous Nazi flags hanging from windows. The last time he had been in a Nazi-occupied city had been Paris, and being in Dieppe brought back a number of memories he had wished to forget, chief among them being Victor. Cutter proceeded to make a series of turns, deliberately taking a prolonged route to the town cen
ter to best assess the city and the garrison. German soldiers in their dark gray uniforms walked the streets either in pairs or as a squad. Most were armed, but a few appeared to be enjoying the French city for the day.
“They occasionally get a day or two of furlough.” Talia nodded to the unarmed soldiers. “Sometimes they come down to Quiberville and get drunk. They’ve stopped recently, after the Resistance kidnapped and hung three in a barn.”
“I’m sure the Nazis loved that.” Cutter turned down another road. As he turned, a checkered guardhouse came into view.
“What do we need for the military checkpoint?” Cutter asked, his heart jumping slightly.
“Just your papers. We should be fine.” Talia rummaged through her purse as they approached. Cutter reached into his pocket and pulled out the fabricated documents Freddy had given him and made his usual silent prayer that they were inspection-worthy. He rolled down the window as they got closer to the checkpoint and gave a friendly nod to the German soldier.
The German couldn’t have been older than eighteen. He was still a gangly youth and was a bit clumsy in his movements as he reached for Cutter’s papers and struggled to keep his rifle on his shoulder. Cutter shivered at the memory of the boy he killed in Paris when he had to escape.
“What is the purpose of your visit?” the soldier asked in broken French.
Cutter wrapped an arm around Talia’s shoulder and beamed up at the guard. “Taking in the sights with this beautiful woman.”
The soldier bent down and looked through the window at Talia.
Talia deliberately bent over pretending to search for her papers. She was wearing a blouse with the top two buttons undone. At the angle she was at, the German soldier was getting a good view of her chest.
Cutter suppressed a chuckle as the soldier made no secret that he was enchanted with Talia’s breasts. He continued to stare until just before Talia looked up to give him her papers. He took the papers staring at them in a perfunctory way, but Cutter doubted his mind was on the task.
“Is everything alright?” Talia asked innocently. “Your face is flushed.”
The soldier gave a weak smile and struggled to find the words. He handed them their papers. “Everything is in order. You can go.” He turned and quickly motioned for the gate to be lifted.