In Line of Fire (Secret Soldiers of World War 1 Book 2)

by David Hough

  “Thank God!” DeBoise released himself from the seat harness and climbed out onto a lower wing from where he could reach the into pilot’s cockpit. Lieutenant John Goodwin was slumped forward, his head resting against the cowling above the instrument panel.

  The final minutes of his life were ended.

  “Damn!” DeBoise jumped to the ground and stared around at an empty landscape. This was not where he was meant to be. He gazed up, wondering if Marie or Polmassick had seen the forced landing, but there was now no sign of the Avro. He was alone in the wrong place. Was he behind the German line? It seemed likely. Why else had they flown over a line of German troops?

  Cumming would not be impressed.

  How long could he remain here before the Germans spotted the downed aircraft? Not long he guessed. The troops they had flown over may have seen them come down and might, even now, be racing towards the landing site. If he was to avoid capture, he would have to set off on foot towards Gheluvelt. Meanwhile, he must do something with the aeroplane. He could not fly the BE2 – it would be fatal to even attempt it – and neither could he give the enemy the free gift of a perfectly serviceable machine.

  He climbed back onto the wing and retrieved the pilot’s pistol. He cursed silently. Sadness filled his thoughts as he paused long enough to stare at Goodwin, a young man not long out of school or university, who had bravely tried to do a man’s job. He shook his head. The young pilot had been given no chance to grow up. DeBoise stared at him for a few more seconds. Getting Goodwin’s dead weight out of the rear cockpit would be difficult, maybe too difficult, and he was running out of time.

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. There’s nothing I can do for you now. I’d have buried you if I had the time. Cremation is the best I can do.” He patted Goodwin’s shoulder and dropped to the ground.

  “Bloody aeroplanes!”

  Still cursing under his breath, he walked round to the engine cowling. He had never learned how to fly, but he did know a little bit about engines. He knew enough to be able to disconnect a fuel line and drain off enough petrol to soak his scarf. And he had a box of Lucifers in his pocket. It was the work of only a couple of minutes before he was ready to destroy the aeroplane, and the pilot. He draped the petrol-soaked scarf over the engine and turned his head away as he threw a lighted Lucifer onto it. The flames shot up with a loud whoosh, quickly followed by thick black smoke. If the Germans were looking for the downed aircraft, this would be one hell of a big pointer.

  “You were a brave man, John Goodwin!” DeBoise shouted as he backed away from the conflagration. “I’ll make sure your family know how brave you were.” Then, with one last look around, he started walking in a direction that he hoped would lead him to Gheluvelt.

  *

  Marie felt physically sick. It was her first time in an aeroplane and she fervently hoped it would be her last. So this was why Charles hated the flight down from Antwerp. She empathised: neither of them was meant to fly like a bird above the battlefield. They were supposed to keep their feet on the ground, the solid, unmoving ground.

  She put a hand to her mouth as bile rose in her throat.

  The Avro dropped suddenly in an air pocket and the bile rose up into her mouth. Unable to contain it, she leaned over the side of the cockpit and vomited onto the lower wing. She groaned as she heaved herself back into the seat. Maybe death on a battlefield really would be preferable to this. Dear God, Charles, you were right!

  She jerked upright, startled, when a hand tapped her shoulder. Slowly, she glanced around to see the figure in the rear cockpit reaching towards her. Lieutenant Commander Polmassick pointed towards a flat stretch of ground surrounded by trees away to the left. A large house stood nearby. It had to be Château Gheluvelt.

  His beard quivered while his mouth slowly formed the inaudible words, “We’re going down now.”

  Going down? Thank God for that! Marie nodded and settled once more into her seat for the landing. A few more minutes and she would be able to stand on firm ground once again. Just a few more minutes. As the aeroplane began its descent, she tried to take her mind away from the sinking feeling in her stomach.

  The Château grounds looked larger now. She fixed her gaze on the flat ground that she now saw to be a large ornamental lawn and guessed they would land there. The aeroplane banked sharply, turning into wind with the engine throttled back for the landing. Thank God this version of hell would soon be over. Marie clasped hold of the cockpit surround and held tight. She closed her eyes until she felt a heavy bump as the wheels hit the ground. Then she breathed a long sigh of relief as the tail skid bumped down on the grass.

  The pilot taxied the machine towards a line of trees, swung the nose back towards the open area of lawn and cut the engine. He climbed onto the lower wing and helped Marie out of the front cockpit.

  “You look a bit pale, Miss Duval. A bit under the weather, are you?” He held her arm tightly. “Be careful as you get out of there.”

  Marie groaned. “It’s the altitude you fly at. It’s so damnably cold up there. I’ll be all right now.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you will be.” The pilot pointed to a splodge of vomit on the wing and he winked. “Be careful you don’t slip on that mess. Must be a load of birdshit.”

  Marie stumbled down the ground and leaned against the fuselage. “Where’s the other aircraft?” she asked.

  Polmassick pulled at his beard. “It was flying much lower. I saw it in the distance, near the salient, and then I lost sight of it.”

  “But they took off the same time as you.” Marie mopped a handkerchief across her face. “They should be here by now.”

  “Yes.” Polmassick stared up into the sky. “Bit of a worry, isn’t it?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Marie was relieved to see Wendel running across the lawn towards her. She had no strong feelings towards him, not the sort of feelings she reserved for Charles DeBoise, but the whole operation was dependent upon what he had been able to do here at Gheluvelt. He looked odd, she quickly noted, wearing a uniform that patently wasn’t his. It was only in the last few yards that he seemed to recognise her.

  “Marie? What in hell’s name…” He pulled up suddenly.

  “Never mind the questions, Captain. We haven’t much time.” She nodded towards the pilot. “Lieutenant Commander Polmassick brought me and he can’t wait here long.”

  “Glad to see you’re still alive, sir.” Wendel saluted the naval pilot. “You seem fated to get caught up in my problems.”

  “Put that down to this young lady’s persuasive talents.” Polmassick looked up into the sky. “There should be a second aircraft carrying your Lieutenant DeBoise, but it appears to be lost for the moment. I’ve got my fingers crossed that it’s not run into trouble.”

  “DeBoise? On his way here?” Wendel looked surprised.

  “Wherever that aircraft is, we can’t wait for it,” Marie said, anxious to hide the concern she felt for DeBoise. Pray God he was safe. She tried to focus on the matter in hand as she stared at Wendel. “Where are Sophia and Pierre von Birkensaft?”

  “They’ve left, both of them. Gone back to Rupprecht.”

  “Pierre was…” she began.

  “I know.” Wendel raised a hand. “Pierre was Wood Wine. I worked that out for myself.”

  “And Sophia…”

  “Is one of C’s agents. Yes, I figured that one out as well.”

  “Good.” Marie was relieved but not surprised that he seemed to be on top of the deception. “And where is the Countess?”

  This time Wendel gestured towards the Château. “Sulking in the library. I’m getting tired of that stupid woman. It’s not going to be safe here once the Germans regroup. And there’s no way we can safely take the old dear back down the Menin Road.”

  “We don’t have to.” Marie nodded to Polmassick. “Our friend here will fly her out. That’s if we can fool her into boarding the aeroplane.”

  “Fly here out?” Wendel took a
step backwards and shook his head. “In that thing? She’d never agree to it.” He gave a cold, mirthless laugh.

  Marie shrugged and started walking towards the Château. “That’s why I’m here, Captain. Whether she agrees or not, we have to get her into that damned machine, and she can complain all she wants after it takes off.”

  “You think you can force her into it?” Wendel fell into step beside her.

  “Persuade her, Captain. Persuade her.” She stopped and pointed back to the pilot standing beside his aeroplane. “Please don’t come with me. Help Lieutenant Commander Polmassick find a ladder to get the old lady aboard. Then you must keep out of sight and leave it all to me.” She took another step forward before turning to add an afterthought. “And tell that pilot to keep his mouth shut when I bring the Countess out here. She must be made to think this is a German machine with a German pilot.”

  “It’s got British markings, Marie,” Wendel called after her.

  “I doubt that she’d notice, but you can tell him to stand in front of the markings. I’ll try to distract her.”

  No one approached her as Marie entered the building which seemed to have suffered from a previous attack. Emboldened, she found the library, with the doors standing ajar. With a last deep breath and a silent prayer, she stepped inside.

  The elderly Countess sat, pale-faced, in a high-backed chair beside a fire that barely glowed. She had an ornate shawl wrapped about her shoulders.

  Marie approached the old lady and curtsied. “I have the honour of meeting the Gräfin von Birkensaft?” She spoke in German.

  “Who are you?”

  Marie leaned forward to speak softly. “My name is Mariele Bach.”

  “You are German? You sound German.” The Countess gave her a look of surprise.

  Marie effected a worried glance over one shoulder. “Not so loud, please. There are English soldiers here. They think I am a servant from the village. In fact, I have come from Prince Rupprecht’s headquarters. I work on his staff.”

  “Rupprecht sent you?” Her eyes lit up. “You have come from Rupprecht?”

  “Yes. Your grandchildren are both with him. He wants you to come with me now so you can all be together again.”

  The old lady frowned, as if unable to shake off previous thoughts. “Come with you? But he said I should remain here. Has he changed his mind?”

  Marie adopted a pleading expression. “Yes, his plans have changed. You must come quickly. He knows it is no longer safe here. He has given me specific instructions to see that you get to safety. And he sends orders that you must do as I say.”

  “He has sent me orders?” The Countess gave Marie’s words some silent thought and then she rose shakily to her feet. “Yes, it is what he would do. He always gives orders. I came here because of his orders. But I knew he would not forsake me. We are related, you know, Rupprecht and I. You have transport?”

  “Yes, I have transport. But you must trust me and you must hurry. The English have not yet seen the transport, but they will spot it soon. You do trust me, don’t you?”

  “I trust Rupprecht. He would never let me down.” A look of relief was spread across her face as she took a step forward.

  Marie took the Countess’ arm to support her. “Good. Sophia and Pierre are safe and well at his headquarters. They are waiting for you.”

  “That is good. Pierre is the decent one, you know. I don’t trust his sister though.”

  “Prince Rupprecht will deal with her should the need arise.”

  She led the Countess out from the library, through the hall and out into the cool air. The old lady drew her shawl tight about her shoulders as they descended the front steps.

  “Where is the transport? You said there was transport.” A hint of suspicion rose in her voice.

  “It’s not far away. Hidden at the far side of the lawn. We must get to it before the English soldiers see us.”

  “Yes, yes. You are right. We must hurry.” And the Countess put an extra effort into her step.

  As they walked, Marie focussed on the single aeroplane standing in the shade of the trees. There was no sign of the second machine.

  *

  DeBoise lay still beneath a small hedge at the edge of a forest. His leg was aching badly but he dare not react. He wondered if the German soldiers would hear his rapid heartbeat.

  They numbered at least a dozen, advancing noisily through the trees just yards away. When they emerged from the leafy shadows into daylight, they paused to light up their pipes and cigarettes. Some of them slumped down onto the grass while others paced up and down, as if they were unable to relax. One man came closer to the hedge and urinated on it.

  “The English have too many machine guns,” he called to his mates as he fastened his trousers.

  “No. They have too many rifles and they shoot too quickly.” The response was surly, delivered with a note of anger. “They did not tell us the English guns would shoot so fast.”

  “It happened like that at Mons.” The first man ambled back towards the others. “I heard it from Hans. He said they load and fire fast. We outnumbered them, but they were faster with their shooting.”

  “That will not help them when our siege guns get their range. We shall annihilate them.” The speaker stood up slowly. “Come on, you lot. Get to your feet. We can’t wait here forever.”

  DeBoise let out his breath slowly and silently. He waited several minutes until the German soldiers had been gone before he eased himself to his feet and looked around. There was no one else in sight.

  The sun was only a vague pool of light barely penetrating the cloud cover, but it was enough for him to take a bearing that would lead him to Gheluvelt. Despite the continuing ache in his leg, he ran quickly through the forest where the trees were thick enough to give him cover should he meet another German patrol.

  *

  Marie’s trick had worked! Lieutenant Polmassick’s Avro was only a small speck in the sky when Wendel turned to walk towards the Château. He felt a burden of responsibility slide from his shoulders and he was glad to see the back of the old Countess. He was also glad to be rid of her grandson and granddaughter. The junior members of the von Birkensaft family must now look to their own resources.

  “The old lady will probably make an official complaint,” he said with a deliberately cynical tone. “She’ll say she was kidnapped. Forcibly abducted.”

  Marie fell into step beside him. “That’s someone else’s problem. Don’t worry about it. What should we do now?”

  “Get the hell out of here, of course. I’ll round up the four British soldiers and we’ll head back towards Ypres.” He was positive on that decision. He wasn’t sure how they would make the dangerous journey back to the town, but make it they must. The car with the American flag draped across the bonnet stood idle in the driveway outside the building. Maybe they could use that. Would it hold six people and carry them safely along a road that was under siege? He wasn’t sure, but it was one avenue open to them.

  “What about Lieutenant DeBoise?” Marie asked quietly as she moved in close beside him.

  The question caught him unawares. “What about him?”

  “He was flying here in a second aeroplane. We can’t leave until we know what’s happened to him.”

  “Damn!” Wendel knew instantly she was right. He turned and scanned the sky. Where was the man? What was delaying him?

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Any sign of them moving on?” Marie asked.

  Her voice was infused with a strange weary tone, something Wendel had never noticed in her demeanour until now. What was bothering her most? The activity outside, or the loss of Lieutenant DeBoise? His suspicions about the relationship between them were becoming more solid by the day. What was it about DeBoise that drew Marie to him?

  “Looks like they’re here to stay. We’ve left it too late.” Wendel peered out from a small attic window and allowed a deep sense of frustration to wash over him.

  D
own below, pockets of German soldiers milled around in the Château gardens. Some were cooking over open fires, decimating the carefully-manicured lawns. Others sat beneath the trees and smoked. A group of officers sat on camp seats, drinking and eating. The distant rattle of rifle fire was punctuated by the occasional louder echoes of field guns. The troops in the Château grounds seemed to ignore both. A stray shell landed beyond the surrounding trees. The flash, the explosion and the plume of smoke provoked little more than casual glances from them. Likely, they had seen worse.

  “We had to wait for Lieutenant DeBoise.” Marie pressed in close beside Wendel, peering anxiously at the scene outside. Her breath feathered against his cheek. “You do understand that, don’t you?”

  “It’s unlikely he’ll get here now. Whatever happened to him.” The words came out with less concern than he intended, but he wasn’t sure why. Was he jealous of the Lieutenant? He tried to adjust his tone as he added, “The machine was probably shot down somewhere near the front line. Maybe he survived and is hiding out from the Huns.” Even to his own ears it sounded like a feeble suggestion.

  “We had to wait for him,” she repeated. Her hesitant voice made it seem more like a plea than a statement.

  He stepped aside and rubbed his hands down his cheeks. Puzzled by the amount of cold sweat that came away in his palms, he turned back into the small attic room where the four British soldiers sat, leaning against the far wall. Their faces were universally glum.

  Marie was right, of course, they had had no other choice, even though it had sealed off their line of retreat. How could they have foreseen the speed with which the Germans would retake so much lost ground?

  He let out a long sigh. What could they do to avoid capture? Nothing, except hope to God the enemy would be pushed back once again. And hope wasn’t working. Could they hold out here in this attic much longer? Or would the Huns eventually search the Château and discover them?