by Conor Bender
“Keep to the woods; it’ll give us better concealment,” Carver added.
“Right,” Parker agreed. “We need to get moving. If you see anything, let us know.”
Murray nodded wordlessly and went back to his team.
Parker turned and waved the radio operator back over and grabbed the headset. “Whiskey 1, this is Baker 6.”
“Roger, Baker 6. Go ahead.”
“Assembly area secured. We have both Fox and Baker Troops ready to proceed to Objective 1.”
“Roger, Baker 6. Proceed to Objective 1.”
***
Cutter worked the action of his pistol and inspected the barrel, making sure it was clear of dirt. He hadn’t been able to sleep, and had already cleaned it three times in the past four hours, but it was all he could do to keep his mind off the raid. Dawn was fast approaching, and with it, the riskiest part of the mission.
Cutter had no idea what was waiting for them at safe house B, but he could only hope it was a commando team with a quick egress plan. His thoughts turned to Talia and he couldn’t help but wonder how he would bring her with him to London. He knew Hambro would be pissed as hell, but he figured he could weather the consequences. The Gestapo had backed them into a wall.
With Durand’s disappearance, bringing Talia back with him could be justified. I can worry about it when we get to England, he thought. Right now, all they had to do was make it to the safe house and the commandos would get them home.
Cutter stopped fiddling with the pistol and set it on the table. He debated trying to eat something, but thought better of it. He doubted he could hold anything down, and simply brewed a pot of tea.
The ceiling of the kitchen creaked and Cutter listened as Talia started to get ready. He sipped at his tea as she made her way downstairs and checked her appearance in the living room mirror. She was dressed smartly in a pair of dark trousers and work boots and a blue wool turtleneck.
“They should be landing in the next thirty minutes.”
“How will we get to the safe house? You still haven’t told me your plan.”
“As soon as the raid commences, the Germans will be too busy to the east to bother with us. We’ll take the car to the safe house and await the commandos there.”
“I don’t see it being that easy.”
Cutter gave her a knowing wink. “O ye of little faith.” With his foot he slid his trunk out from under the table. Talia hadn’t noticed it before, but bent down and opened it. Inside were two Sten machine guns and four magazines. “Call it our back up plan.”
“Where did you get these?”
“If there is one thing I always have, it’s a contingency plan. There’s also a timed explosive rigged to the car, and four grenades in the glove compartment. Well before I started sending weapons to the Resistance cells, I set up a cache on the outskirts of town.”
“Why is it that this is the first I’m hearing of this cache?”
Cutter’s smirk faded from his lips and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, at the time I didn’t trust you.”
“But you do now?”
“That should be obvious.”
“Time will tell,” Talia said simply, and walked over to the kitchen window and gazed out into the twilight. “We still haven’t heard from Durand.” She didn’t want to admit it, but she suspected he was dead.
Cutter nodded but didn’t say anything, unsure of whether or not he should jump to the most probable conclusion.
“It’s been a week since the bombing. A body hasn’t been provided by the Germans like they normally do to discourage us, and no one has seen him.”
“You think he betrayed us?”
“That or he was captured and will be tortured into answering questions, and we both know everyone talks eventually.”
Cutter grunted, “We’ve been through this. If the Gestapo had captured him, he would be in one of their cells being tortured till he begged for death. If we encounter any issues, we have the Stens and the grenades.”
Talia nodded absently. She reached down and grabbed one of the Stens from the trunk and inspected it. As she did so, an explosion shook the house. Plates and cups rattled in the cabinets and the sound of dogs barking could be heard outside.
Cutter jumped at the noise. “The raid has begun.” He immediately felt like an idiot for pointing out the obvious. He grabbed his pistol from the table and put it in his shoulder holster and checked to make sure his F-S knife was secured in his waistband. “Talia, you have everything you need?”
She nodded and placed a magazine in her Sten and handed Cutter one. She paused and took one final look around her uncle’s house. A whirlwind of emotions swept through her in an instant. The sadness of leaving behind her family home quickly was replaced by a feeling of elation at the knowledge that by the end of the day she could be in England. As she thought about that, a fearful realization washed over her. “For all I know, I may never see this house again.”
“Never is a long time,” Cutter said as he pushed the magazine into the Sten and cocked it. “I promise we will return.”
Talia gave a curt nod and looked at Cutter. “I never said this, but I’m glad you came back.”
“Me, too.” Cutter smiled and shut off all the lights in the house and opened the back door. Lights were on throughout the village as everyone was awakened by the sound of the artillery. Cutter waited a second to let his eyes adjust to the dark before walking outside. As he waited, a German half-track raced past the car.
Cutter watched impassively but felt the knot in his gut tighten. If they’re rolling through here with a half-track, they no doubt have more vehicles up the road. Cutter grumbled and walked back into the house.
“German’s have a half-track. We can’t take the car.”
“It’s still dark and the safe house is a mile away. Could we walk?”
Cutter’s mind turned as he contemplated their chances and shook his head. “Too risky. We could easily be mistaken for raiders and shot. We’ll wait thirty minutes and then drive.”
***
Squadron Leader Faraday hated flying at night; the thought of crashing into another aircraft always scared him. Fortunately, the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, making it easier to identify the rest of No. 71 Squadron’s aircraft. The whole squadron was in the air for this raid. From what Faraday had gathered when Leigh-Mallory had given the briefing, all three Eagle Squadrons were supporting the mission; an unusual happenstance that Faraday suspected was fueled by politics to show that America had officially entered the war.
Faraday checked his heading and made sure they were on course. Their orders had changed an hour before takeoff. Rather than just drop their bombs and gain altitude, their mission was now to conduct interdiction operations on one of the artillery batteries, code-named Hitler Battery, inland of Dieppe and intercept any German air support before they could attack the raiders.
“All flights, listen up. This is Saxon Leader. Reese and Victor Flights will conduct interdiction operations while Swift covers the skies. I want tight, efficient work . . . no heroics.” Faraday stressed his final words. It was meant mainly for the seven new pilots that had joined the squadron two weeks prior.
“Roger, Saxon Leader,” Faust, Tombs, and Chambers, the three flight leaders, chorused.
As the sun started to creep into the sky, the coastline started to come into view. Faraday could just barely make out the shapes of the boats transporting the raiders below him. He turned and looked over his shoulder to inspect his pilots. Spread out in a wing formation, nineteen Spitfires churned through the air. As much as Faraday questioned the tactical potency of the big wing, he couldn’t help but marvel at the site of his whole squadron moving as one. It was a terrible beauty, one that the Germans would no doubt regret ever laying eyes on.
The sun glared off the windshields of each aircraft, obscuring the heads of his pilots and making the Spitfires appear all the more like an inhuman beast. A chill went down Fara
day’s spine, a combination of fear and excitement at the thought of this being his first large-scale operation as squadron leader. He said a quick prayer, hoping that he had done everything he could to ensure his pilots had the proper training and preparation for this mission.
“Alright, lads, heads on a swivel. Swift Flight, call out any bandits, and all of you watch that crossfire from the ground.”
“Saxon Leader, this is Paddington aboard the HMS Fernie. We will be vectoring you in. Correct your course to 1-6-4.”
Faraday pushed down on the rudder and brought his aircraft onto the designated course. “Roger, Paddington. Changing course to 1-6-4. Any bandits identified?” He looked over his shoulder to make sure the rest of the squadron adjusted course as well. They were all listening in on his conversation with the controller aboard the Fernie.
“None at this time. Proceed with your mission. Be advised, coastal barrage from the Navy will conclude in two minutes.”
Faraday acknowledged him and switched his mic to speak with the rest of his squadron. “All flights prepare to conduct initial gun runs on Hitler Battery. Deploy bombs and begin engaging targets at your discretion.”
All flight leaders acknowledged him and started to break off from the squadron formation. Swift Flight started to climb to get a better view of the battle space while Reese and Victor moved into position for their initial gun run.
As soon as the naval barrage ceased, Victor Flight split up and started to dive on the battery.
Faraday watched as the bombs detonated, destroying at least one artillery piece. Reese Flight followed suit and mimicked Victor with their approach and dropped their payload. Faraday watched in annoyance as the blast from the bombs had little to no impact on the three remaining artillery pieces. “Victor Flight, this is Saxon Leader, replace Swift Flight on overwatch so they can conduct their bombing run.”
Victor Flight quickly climbed and replaced Swift Flight as they started to descend. Faraday positioned himself behind them as they flew in on their bombing run and dropped his bombs with them. He gave a victorious whoop as he pulled back on the stick and watched as their bombs landed on target, knocking out the rest of the battery. Faraday banked and turned sharply. As he turned, a puff of smoke appeared next to his wing and a pressurized thump rocked his aircraft. Faraday quickly pulled back on the stick and started to climb. Tracer fire and flak saturated the sky as antiaircraft guns and machine guns started to target his squadron.
Faraday pulled back hard on the stick, moved into a tight turn, and pushed forward on the throttle, going into a corkscrew. He felt his body squish down in his seat as the force of gravity started to exert its weight on him. He tightened his leg muscles and grunted, slowing the blood rushing down away from his brain as he quickly turned. Faraday kept the gun crews on the ground guessing as he darted across the sky, never flying straight for more than a few seconds. His eyes scanned the skies, hunting for their real target.
“There they are,” he heard Faust call out, his voice flat and monotone like he was commenting on the weather. “Messerschmitts to the south. Looks like a whole squadron.”
“Tallyho.”
***
An hour ticked by before Cutter and Talia felt that it was safe for them to leave. The naval barrage had lasted an entire hour before the whirring buzz of aircraft started to drone overhead. With the arrival of the RAF, and the realization that an aerial assault from paratroopers wasn’t occurring, the Germans had started to frantically move toward the beaches and antiair batteries.
Cutter checked his watch; it was nearly 4:00 a.m. “It’s now or never. The roads should be clear.”
“You’d best let me drive. I know these roads better and can get us there quicker.”
Cutter nodded and once again checked the road outside the house; it was clear. He shoved the Sten underneath his coat and walked out to the car. Talia quickly followed and climbed into the car and started it. Cutter did one final check of the road and got in. “Drive fast, but don’t look like you’re in a hurry.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Never mind. Just drive.”
***
Sergeant Callum checked his bandoliers and adjusted the shoulder straps of his pack with a wordless grunt. He searched the faces of the men around him for any doubts, any loss of nerve, any fear. He had done nearly a dozen raids like this one, and had come to accept two things: Nothing ever went according to plan and the enemy never did what you expected or wanted them to.
He watched Captain Parker and First Sergeant Adams as they checked the map. He trusted both of them. Captain Parker had proven a quick study during Saint-Nazaire and wasn’t afraid of asking the hard questions. His composure under pressure was a rare trait among his peers, but the one thing that worried Callum was Parker’s ability to make the tough decisions that came with command. For that, he trusted Adams to be a solid backstop. As a relic of the Great War, Adams understood that there wasn’t always room for compassion or neatness as a commander. Sometimes a decision had to be made that would end peoples’ lives, or would have a messy outcome.
“Christ, that’s a lot of fighters,” Tarbor observed through the breakage in the trees.
Callum looked up. He could see contrail plumes covering the sky in multiple directions as aircraft started to engage in multiple dogfights.
“Think we’re winning?” a commando whispered.
“I suppose if we weren’t, the Luftwaffe would be attacking us instead.”
First Sergeant Adams looked up from the map and shot them a murderous look. “Quiet!”
Callum bobbed his head apologetically and resumed scanning his sector as they waited to see what the holdup was. They were making slow work navigating through the forest. Aerial intelligence hadn’t seen this, nor had any brief mentioned the thickness of the foliage. Between the tightness of the trees and the thick underbrush, forward movement had stalled twice in the past thirty minutes. Callum briefly wondered if when their armor reached shore they might encounter similar issues. He looked around; both troops had resorted to walking single file through the woods to move faster. They had followed the meandering river as far as they could and had already crossed to the other bank.
Callum watched eagerly as Corporal Carter bounded through the woods back toward them. “Sir, Murray says they’ve reached checkpoint one and are sweeping north.”
Parker folded the map and shoved it into his jacket. “Good, Tarbor. Once we’re clear of the woods, push your team wide to the east and cover the right flank on the advance.” Parker turned and looked at Callum. “Do the same with yours to the west, and I’ll bring up the middle with the rest of Baker Troop.”
Callum nodded and turned to his boys. “Alright, lads, break’s over. Devon, you’re lead scout. We’ve got the left flank. You know the drill.” He checked his watch one last time as they started to shuffle out of the trees. The pale light of morning had set in, and as far as Callum was concerned, the element of surprise had sidled away with its arrival. They needed to make up for lost time quickly if they wanted to remain undetected much longer. By moving so far inland and looping behind the artillery batteries, it was a sure thing that they would surprise the Germans by attacking from the south rather than from the seaside. But going this deep into enemy territory had its trade-offs. If a single German spotted them, the game would be up.
Callum hopped over a dead tree and looked up in annoyance. The incessant buzz of aircraft overhead started to aggravate him, like a mosquito flying around his ear and refusing to fly away.
“That noise really is annoying,” Adams murmured as he fell in step next to Callum.
“Indeed.”
“Make sure your boys are quick on their feet if we come into contact. I don’t want anyone freezing up, especially in the open.”
“You don’t have to worry about my lads.”
Adams shot Callum a skeptical look. “If I had a buffalo nickel for every time I heard that. Just keep them moving.
” Without another word he stepped off toward Tarbor’s team.
Callum watched him for a brief moment. He liked Adams. He had dealt with few American senior enlisted men, but he liked what he saw of the grizzled old man. In the few weeks he had been attached to Baker, he had become a force of stability and had quickly earned the trust of the British veterans. His experience and demeanor made it so that he was easy to approach with a problem while simultaneously being someone you didn’t want to make angry. Although Captain Parker was their commander, there was no question that First Sergeant Adams was the father of Baker Troop.
“Sergeant, Fox is splitting off from us,” Reynolds murmured, nodding his head toward the far side of the field. Captain Carver’s troop slowly started to disappear into the adjacent woods.
“Eyes up. We aren’t far from the battery. Magar, make sure your explosives are secured, we’re gonna need them in a hurry.”
Callum’s Gurkha assistant team leader nodded his head and patted the satchel on his hip. “Don’t you worry, Sergeant.”
Callum nodded and eyed the nasty-looking kukri knife that swung from a sheath next to the satchel. He pitied the German that would have to face off against that. In close quarters, Magar had proven unmatched in his prowess, both with his fists and with his obtuse angled dagger.
One of Carter’s men, an American ranger, shuffled up next to Callum. “Sarge, we just passed the first checkpoint. Moving to objective one.”
What the bloody hell is a Sarge? “Thanks. Get back to the center.”
The ranger nodded and scampered across the thirty-foot gap Callum’s team had created between them and Parker’s main force.
“Eyes up, lads. Don’t be surprised if an enemy listening post is out and about.”
The troop quickly closed the remaining distance of the field and reentered the trees. Callum breathed a sigh of relief once they were under the verdant canopy of the forest. He had felt naked and exposed in the fields. As he looked around, he noticed that the trees were much more spread out than the dense foliage along the river. It would make moving much quicker. Having thoroughly studied the map of the area, Callum knew that they weren’t far from the artillery. If they stuck to the woods, they would end up at a crossroads that was right next to the battery.