That made what she was looking at over Roess’ shoulder the more incomprehensible. For she was watching dozens of trucks rolling through the streets of Grenoble, to come to a halt in the square beneath them, and out of every truck there was debouching a mass of men, the smartest troops she had ever seen, in perfectly fitting black uniforms and black boots, black helmets, even black bayonets hanging on their hips to fit on to their black rifles when required to do so. Other trucks were unloading heavy machine-guns and others had artillery pieces bouncing along behind them.
“The Heinrich Himmler Division of the Fighting SS,” Roess said, his tone reverential.
Clearly the people of Grenoble had never seen anything like it either. They lined the streets, at a safe distance from the trucks, to gape at the troops and mutter to each other. “Shouldn’t they be in Normandy?” Joanna asked.
“Oh, they will go to Normandy when they have completed this job. It will not take them more than a few days. And then, why, you may be reunited with your old friend, Fraulein, and my greatest ambition will be fulfilled. I am afraid it will only be a temporary reunion, of course, but I will allow you to watch her die.”
Joanna almost drew the Luger automatic pistol she carried in her handbag and shot him on the spot. But what would that accomplish, other than her own death? She had to believe that Liane would somehow survive. Because Liane always survived. And James would be fighting, and if necessary dying, beside her. Her mouth twisted, because she knew that that was how Liane would wish to go.
“The general,” Roess said urgently. “Look smart.” They hurried downstairs to where the SS commander, having been greeted by Bittner, was just entering the building. “Welcome to Grenoble, General Kirschner,” Roess said.
“Ah, Roess,” Kirschner remarked disparagingly. He was a stockily built man with heavy features. “I understand this is your idea.”
“The Reichsfuehrer instructed me to reduce these people, Herr General.”
“And you estimated it would take a division of the Waffen SS to do this.”
“They are very strongly entrenched, Herr General. General Bittner’s opinion coincides with mine.”
Kirschner gave Bittner an even more disparaging glance, then looked at Joanna. “Frau Hoeppner,” Roess hastily explained. “The Reichsfuehrer’s personal assistant. She is here to interrogate the prisoners.”
“Prisoners,” Kirschner remarked, more disparagingly yet. “I did not come here to take prisoners. We have met, Frau Hoeppner.”
“Yes, Herr General. At a reception at the Chancellory in 1939.”
“You have a good memory. You were Fraulein Jonsson then. And now you are married to Colonel Hoeppner. A good officer. I hope he is well?”
“I hope so too, Herr General.” Kirschner raised his eyebrows. “He is on Field Marshal Rommel’s staff,” she explained.
“Ah. Well, perhaps I shall have the pleasure of meeting him, when this business has been completed. You have an office, Roess?”
“Just up here, Herr General.” Roess led the way into the office, where Kirschner sat behind the desk, the other three, including Bittner, being left standing in front of him.
“Now then,” Kirschner said. “My instructions are to liquidate the guerilla base said to be established in the Vercours as quickly and completely as possible and to render it impossible to be reoccupied at any future time. This will, of course, necessitate the destruction of all dwellings or places of refuge, and of all inhabitants of the area who may be considered capable of assisting guerillas in the future.”
“You mean total annihilation,” Joanna said in a low voice.
“It may well come to that, Frau Hoeppner. If you have no stomach for it, I suggest you remain in Grenoble.” Joanna gulped.
“Ah… with respect, Herr General,” Roess said. “It would be useful to take some prisoners for the information they may be able to give us on other guerilla groups.”
Kirschner shrugged. “If they are unwise enough to surrender, Colonel, you are welcome to them. Now, the operation commences at dawn tomorrow morning, when the bombers go in. I estimate this will take about three days.”
“I do not think that is going to be very effective,” Bittner objected. “We have been bombing them, on and off, for months, with no result. The country is so split up with narrow valleys and precipitous cliffs that it is impossible to pinpoint any targets.”
“As you say, on and off. But I am not seeking individual targets. This will be blanket bombing designed to crush their morale.”
“And of course, if we can knock out the airstrip they have built,” Roess said eagerly, “we can prevent them receiving any help from Algiers.”
“The airstrip will not be touched,” Kirschner said. “I have instructed the Luftwaffe commander regarding this. We need the use of it. Now, as soon as the bombing is completed, my people will commence an artillery bombardment of the approach roads, following which my infantry will advance. I will require you people to follow, General Bittner, to consolidate our gains.”
“A frontal assault, even supported by artillery, will be very expensive,” Bittner remarked. “The ravine we used to attack them has been entirely blocked.”
“My people are not concerned with casualties, General. In any event, I am told there are at most three thousand guerillas. With our combined forces we will deploy fifteen thousand men; fifteen thousand German soldiers, highly trained and heavily armed. Do you really think we are going to be stopped by a handful of ill-equipped peasants?” He looked from face to face, daring anyone to argue. “Very good. Assembly will be a three a.m., when the bombers go in, so I suggest you get a good night’s sleep. However, Frau Hoeppner, perhaps you will join me for dinner?”
Taken by surprise, Joanna for a moment did not know what to say.
“May I ask, Herr General, what is our role in this campaign?” Roess inquired.
“As you are a policeman, you will follow the troops and see if you can find any of these prisoners you seem to regard as so important. Frau Hoeppner?”
Joanna had got her breath back. “It will be my pleasure, Herr General.”
*
Kirschner had appropriated the hotel de ville as his headquarters, and the meal was served in a private dining room. “I have never really been able to appreciate French cooking,” he admitted. “I suppose that is because I am only a simple peasant at heart.” Once again, Joanna was left without words or, at least, any she dared utter. “But you,” he said. “The so sophisticated American who has opted for Germany instead of her own country…” He paused inquiringly.
“I am half Swedish, Herr General.”
“Ah. Yes, there is a point. And now you are Reichsfuehrer Himmler’s confidante.” Again, there was an expectant pause.
“That is correct, Herr General.”
“As well as Franz Hoeppner’s wife. The Reichsfuehrer must be a generous man.”
“Wheren he wishes to be, Herr General. Do you know him?”
“We have met once or twice. He takes great pride in the Waffen SS.”
“With reason, I am sure.” Joanna finished her wine. They were approaching the crunch.
“I have also met Franz Hoeppner,” Kirschner went on. “A good soldier. He should go far.”
“Is there any longer far to go, Herr General?”
He studied her for several seconds. Then he asked, “Do you say things like that to the Reichsfuehrer?”
“From time to time.”
“And what is his response? Some people might call what you have just said treason.”
“I think he finds me refreshing. In private.”
“Ah. Yes. I am sure he does. You and I are in private now. Would you care to refresh me?”
Joanna smiled. “Have I not just done so, Herr General?”
“Touche, as the French say. I was thinking of refreshment in a more positive manner.”
It was tempting; she might be able to find out his actual plans; she was sure he had not out
lined them that afternoon. It was even more tempting to consider than she might be able to murder him. But again that would be to die for no purpose. The assault might be delayed but only until another general arrived. It would not help Liane, or James, in the long run. So she said, “I’m afraid, sir, that I am a happily married woman. And besides, did you not say that we should all get a good night’s sleep?”
“I do not think that applies to you, Joanna. Or to me. The troops will not be going in for three days.”
“I must still decline, Herr General. I have to obtain the Reichsfuehrer’s permission before I sleep with any man, apart from him. Or my husband, of course.”
Another appraising look, then he said, “We will resume this conversation when this campaign is over. But you will accompany me when we go in. I am sure the Reichsfuehrer would wish you to do that.”
Joanna drank some more wine.
*
Liane dug James in the ribs. “Bombers.”
He listened to the drone and the explosions. “So what’s new? They can’t get at us in this gully.”
“This is different. It is only just dawn and there are more of them than usual.”
He sat up. The noise was certainly very loud. “Maybe we’d better have a look.”
They dressed and went outside to find most of the encampment also peering up at the sky. “They’re going for the airstrip,” Huet said. “That has to be it.”
James frowned. Although the noise was tremendous, it was all relatively distant; the strip was only a quarter of a mile away. “They don’t know it’s there,” he said. “How can they?”
“Then what the hell are they at?” Lewis demanded.
“I would say they’re softening us up for another assault.”
“They wouldn’t try the ravine again, surely?” Huet objected.
“Not as long as it’s adequately defended. Then they’ll be coming up the road.”
“We can slaughter them like flies.”
“Maybe. But in the meantime they are slaughtering the villages like flies. We had better get down there.”
“I will assemble all our people,” Huet said. “Major Lewis, would you get on the radio to Algiers and tell them that we are about to be attacked in considerable force and that we need assistance now.”
“Will do.” Lewis hurried off to the radio hut.
“I’m coming too,” Amalie said.
“Just be careful,” Liane warned.
*
The bombing continued for the next three days, scouring the entire area, destroying most of the few villages, driving the inhabitants out to shelter in the woods and ravines and yet, because of the terrain, there was surprisingly little loss of life; nor, in the continuing warm weather, was there any great discomfort in being out of doors, although the women and children, and a good number of the guerillas, never having experienced anything like this before, were clearly shaken. Huet and James, Liane and Gaston went amongst them to lift their spirits and they had good news to impart as well. Lewis had been in touch with his headquarters and a massive drop of arms and ammunition had been promised, with troops to follow later.
“I think we could be going to gain a great victory,” Amalie said, “But you are not so optimistic, eh, James?”
“James is never optimistic,” Liane said.
“I cannot understand why they have not touched the airstrip.”
“Because they do not know it is there,” Amalie insisted.
“Maybe. But they have bombed every other piece of flat land in the whole area, save just for that.”
“So they are not as good as they think they are.”
“Are you really worried?” Liane asked as they lay together that night.
“Let’s say that I have a high regard for the efficiency of German planning.”
She hugged him. “I wish they would come and get it over with. You have so much on your mind you are no good in bed.”
*
That night the call came from Algiers that the drop would be made at dawn with, hopefully, the airlift of reinforcements to follow twenty-four hours later. “The strip must be cleared tomorrow night,” Huet told his people.
Before dawn, the bombing stopped. “That’s very odd,” James remarked.
“Their reconnaissance aircraft have told them our boys are coming,” Lewis pointed out. “And they don’t have any fighters to put up.”
The continued, somewhat irrational, confidence all around him James found irritating, but the skies were certainly clear as the American aircraft came over in great waves protected by fighters and the parachutes filled the sky as they drifted down.
“Bazookas!” Lewis shouted.
“Aren’t they meant for use against tanks?” Liane asked.
“Sure. The Krauts will have tanks.”
Liane scratched her head; she had traversed that road up from the north, and she couldn’t see it standing up to tanks, while once they left the road…
*
That afternoon it was misty; as the wind dropped the temperature fell. As there was no sign of any German planes, the people began to drift back to what was left of their homes. But just before dusk the advanced positions overlooking the approach road reported the sounds of a considerable number of motor vehicles in the valley beneath them.
Huet’s dispositions were already made. It was simply a matter of taking up positions. He himself commanded the centre group of a thousand men, directly blocking the road. James was on the left with five hundred, Liane on the right with another five hundred; Amalie was with her. Gaston commanded a reserve of three hundred, to be used to plug any gaps that might occur. Lewis remained at the airstrip with the last hundred effectives; they had more than two hundred men too sick or wounded to fight. His orders were to clear the strip of its camouflage as soon as it were dark.
“Remember,” Huet told his commanders as they prepared to march off. “All we have to do is hold them for tonight, and our reinforcements will be here.”
James’ position lay just in front of one of the villages, which was again full of people despite the fact that only half the houses were still intact. They cheered and clapped as the guerillas filed by. “You will give the Boche a hiding, monsieur,” said the priest, standing in front of his as yet undamaged church.
“We’ll try,” James agreed, endeavouring to disengage himself from the crowd of small boys and girls who were marching to either side and in front of him. To his relief, they were persuaded to retire when the position was reached, although he suspected that quite a few were still hiding in the trees behind, waiting to see the battle.
Lucien was his second-in-command and, having distributed their people, they crouched together to look down at the valley. The pickets had been called in. They had actually seen nothing, but they were adamant about the noise, and now it could clearly be heard.
“Are those tanks?” Lucien asked. They had been given two of the bazookas and he was anxious to use one. But he had never actually seen, or heard, a tank in action.
“Trucks,” James told him. “And…” He frowned. “That sounds like self-propelled artillery.”
“They’ll never get anything like that up here,” Lucien said.
Certainly the road beneath them was quite steep, but James knew that they would have caterpillar tracks. On the other hand… “I don’t think they mean to try,” he said, as the mist was suddenly starred with red gleams and the shells screamed over their heads into the trees and the village. From behind them there came shouts of alarm and screams of pain and distress. The guerillas, over-conscious of the children, moved restlessly. “Easy,” James told them. “They’ll be coming soon.” As he spoke, the guns ceased firing.
*
The night was quiet, but when in the first light James levelled his binoculars and peered into the mist he could see movement; as the men down there came into view he caught his breath. Black uniforms!
Lucien had seen them too. “Those are SS!”
; “Those are Waffen SS, the fighting branch. They are probably the best trained and most fanatical fighting troops in the world.”
Lucien gulped. “What do we do?”
“We fight. They are flesh and blood, like us. When they are shot, they die. Tell our men to hold their fire.”
Lucien hurried off, while James continued to study the slowly advancing troops through his glasses. For all his brave words to Lucien, his heart was pounding quite painfully. He knew this was the supreme crisis of his life. Of all of their lives. Everything would depend on how many of the SS were being deployed. He was looking at no more than a few dozen, but these were clearly skirmishers, their cautious advance intended to discover in what strength the approach was held. He glanced along his line of men, crouching in the bushes and behind rocks. They looked grim but determined. They would obey his orders, he was sure. Of course the German advance had to be stopped, but when it was it would mean revealing their position to the gunners behind, supposing even one of the advance guards survived to get back to the main body, “Hold it,” he said. “Hold it. You’ll get your—”
A shot rang out, and then another, followed by a volley and the chatter of machine-guns. “Damnation,” he muttered. It had not been his men who had opened fire, far too soon, in his opinion, but those further to the right. But there was no point in recriminating now. “Fire!” he shouted.
His men responded with a will, and his own machine-guns started chattering. But the range was too great, and the black-clad soldiers simply disappeared behind their own rocks and bushes. He supposed one or two had been hit, but not more, while the guerillas continued to blaze away for several minutes before they could be brought to cease firing, both wasting ammunition and amply revealing their positions. “What happens now?” Lucien asked, crawling back to him.
The Brightest Day Page 18