“What about the other one, the one they called Gunter?”
“That’s Hauptmann Gunter Hermann, an old school friend of General Stolberg’s. He’s a sneaky bastard and tends to use Graf to dig up shit about people he doesn’t like. Graf’s ambitious, so he’ll do whatever Hermann wants. They’re two of a kind, and neither one of them have much use for civilians.”
“Then I guess I’d better watch myself,” Jan said. “Where are we going anyway?”
“To the town of Boom,” Rolfmann said. He fished a map from under his seat and tossed it on Jan’s lap. “We have substantial defense fortifications on the west bank of the River Schelde. Because of that, we expect the British will approach Antwerp from the south, and they’ll have to go through Boom.” Rolfmann reached over and tapped the map that was unfolded on Jan’s lap. “As you can see, the main road from Brussels to Antwerp crosses the Rupel River just south of Boom. There is a large highway bridge that spans the river at that location. We’ve placed demolition charges on the bridge. I’d like you to inspect them.”
Jan studied the map, locating the bridge. “It looks like there’s another bridge, a smaller one, east of the highway bridge.”
Rolfmann nodded. “Ja, der Pont van Enschodt. Dates back to the nineteenth century. We doubt they’d try and cross it because it’s out of the way and, from a distance, it doesn’t look like it would support their tanks. But we’ve put a few charges on it anyway. I’ll show it to you.”
Jan looked out the window at the flat fields and the neat, brick farm buildings, hoping he’d be able to get away and meet Sam tonight. He had the feeling his cover wasn’t going to last very long.
Chapter 61
ON BEUKENHOFSTRAAT, like many other streets in Merksem, the cellars of every house were connected by tunnels, dug during the long years of occupation, and it was possible to traverse the entire street without going outside. Auguste had led Justyn on a tour of the tunnel network shortly after they had taken him in.
It was after nine o’clock in the evening when Justyn, shaking with fear, pushed back the curtain and stepped through the tunnel into the neighbors’ cellar. He wasn’t surprised that the van Ginderens were waiting for him. He knew they would have seen the car arrive and the SS troopers enter Auguste and Elise’s house, along with a Gestapo agent.
They looked frantic. “What’s happened?” the elderly couple asked almost simultaneously as they led Justyn to a small seating area in a corner of the cellar. Fortunately, they spoke French.
“It was a Gestapo agent. He was looking for someone,” Justyn said, careful to tell them only what Auguste had instructed him to. “Auguste’s been hurt and he needs a doctor. I think his collarbone’s broken.”
“Mon dieu!” Dora van Ginderen cried, covering her face with her hands.
Her husband placed a hand on Justyn’s shoulder. “Oui, oui, we’ll take care of it. We can reach him at his home. And what about you?” he asked.
“I’m all right,” Justyn said. “But I have an ‘errand’ to run.”
Leo van Ginderen nodded. “Do you need help?”
“Oui… with some directions.”
Leo van Ginderen led Justyn through the chain of tunnels and cellars to the end of the street where he exited through the back door of another understanding neighbor. Without asking for any more details than he needed to know, van Ginderen gave Justyn some advice on a safe route to and from the port.
Avoiding most of the main streets, it was almost an hour before Justyn spotted Storage Building 15 on the Kattendijkdok, the sign illuminated by one of the few streetlamps in the area of industrial buildings and warehouses. He saw a figure standing in the shadows, looking in the other direction. He moved closer, trying to get a better look.
Closer. The man was tall, his hair—
The figure suddenly turned toward him. “Who’s there?”
“Monsieur…Monsieur Boeynants? It’s Justyn.”
“Justyn? What the hell!” The tall, silver-haired man stepped over and pulled him into the shadows. “What are you doing here? What’s happened?”
Justyn took a deep breath. His hands were trembling. “A Gestapo agent came to the house, a man named Reinhardt, with two SS troopers, they were looking for you.” He blurted it all out in one breath.
Boeynants stared at him. “What about Auguste and Elise?”
Justyn’s eyes dropped to the ground. “Auguste has a broken collarbone. The neighbors called a doctor.”
“They weren’t arrested?”
“Non. But the man said they’d be watching the house. Auguste sent me to warn you.”
Boeynants was silent for a moment, then he put a hand on Justyn’s shoulder. “Merci, Justyn. You’re a brave young man. Tell Auguste and Elise that I’ll be all right, not to worry.”
Justyn nodded.
“Can you find your way home safely? I’m expecting someone to meet me here.” As he said this, Boeynants glanced around.
Justyn followed Boeynants’s eyes and noticed the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man about fifty meters away, walking toward them. “Oui, oui, monsieur. I’ll be fine,” he said, wondering who the man was but knowing he couldn’t ask.
“You’d better be on your way,” Boeynants said. He gripped Justyn’s hand. “Merci beaucoup, and be careful.”
Justyn nodded and walked back the way he came.
• • •
As Jan approached Storage Building Fifteen he slowed, peering into the shadows ahead. He saw two figures. One was that of a tall man that he guessed was Sam. The other was shorter and slender, like a boy, a teenager perhaps. Jan walked slowly, watching. The two figures were having a conversation. The taller figure turned and looked in his direction. A moment later, the shorter figure walked away, heading in the other direction.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here last night,” Jan said, when he joined Sam. “It was a long dinner with Stolberg and several other officers. I couldn’t get away.”
“No problem. I’m relieved to see you. How is it going?”
Jan was curious about the person who had just left, but he knew that Sam would explain if it were necessary. “I think it has gone well so far,” Jan said. “A couple of them are a little dubious about me, but the main demolition officer, Leutnant Rolfmann, has been very forthcoming.”
“What about their headquarters? Do you know which building it is?”
“I’m not certain because you enter through a tunnel that originates in a bunker in the middle of the park. But when I first arrived, the officer in charge said that it’s a former bank building. As we were climbing the stairs, I looked out the windows, and it appeared that we were on the western edge of the park. I could see the cathedral.”
Sam smiled. “Oui, merveilleux. I know exactly which building you’re talking about. Good work.”
Jan was struck not for the first time by Sam’s aura of steely self-confidence. The man looked tired though his silver hair was neatly trimmed and his suit freshly pressed, if a little tattered around the edges. He appeared thoughtful and deliberate, but there was a hard look in his eyes and an edge in his tone that suggested he was eager to get on with the action.
Jan continued the briefing, explaining everything he had learned about the Kruisschans Lock and the concealment of the explosive charges. He handed over his notes and diagrams and, in the dim light of the streetlamp, pointed out the locations of the charges.
“If they blow that lock, the water level will drop inside the port and the quay walls will collapse,” Jan said.
Sam studied the diagram carefully for a long silent moment. Then his eyes met Jan’s, the hard look intense and determined. “These bastards mean business.”
“Yes, they do,” Jan said. “There’s no doubt in my mind they’re serious about destroying the port. I also need to tell you about Boom.”
Sam frowned. “Boom? What’s going on there?”
“As I’m sure you know, the main road from Brussels to Antwerp crosses the Rupel River over a
large highway bridge just south of Boom.”
“Oui, oui, I’m quite familiar with the bridge,” Sam said.
“The bridge has been set up for demolition. I examined the placement of the charges and the Germans have done their job well. Rolfmann also told me they have shored up their defenses west of Antwerp, and the tunnels under the Schelde have been set for demolition. Therefore, the Allied forces will have to approach from the south and cross the Rupel River using the highway bridge at Boom.”
Sam nodded. “Yes, that certainly sounds logical. What do we do about it?”
“The problem is that the view from the lookout post on the highway bridge gives the Germans unobstructed observation for almost two kilometers down the main road. They will have plenty of time to spot an armored division moving up the road and to blow the bridge.”
Sam scowled. He seemed about to say something, but Jan continued. “However, there’s another bridge, a much older one farther to the east, which Rolfmann referred to as the Pont van Enschodt.” Jan produced the map that Rolfmann had given him, which he had conveniently forgotten to return.
“I know the bridge,” Sam said, examining the map closely in the dim light. “It’s not used very much except for local traffic.”
“Well, it turns out that the Germans have pretty much discounted this bridge. They don’t think the Allies will use it because it’s out of the way and they may doubt that it would support the weight of their tanks.”
“Will it?”
“I took the opportunity to examine it quite closely. It’s very well constructed. It’ll support the tanks. Rolfmann agrees with me, but he still doesn’t believe the Allies would attempt to use it. They’ve placed a few charges on it anyway, but they’re quite obvious and would be easy to dismantle. They’ve posted a few guards, but the sight lines from this bridge are obscured by buildings.”
“What are you suggesting?” Sam asked, examining the map.
“Someone must intercept the first Allied units coming up from the south before they reach this intersection and warn them,” Jan said, pointing to a location three kilometers south of the highway bridge. “The Allies should be directed to follow this older road to the east then turn north. They’d be out of sight until they were practically on top of the Pont van Enschodt. They could attack by surprise, take out the guards and get across the river on the older bridge.”
Sam was silent for a moment, staring at Jan. “If we have someone intercept them, will the Allied commanders listen? Will they take the person seriously?”
Jan nodded. “I’m an officer in an armored division. We’re trained to be flexible and adapt to sudden changes in battle tactics. If whomever you send is credible and makes himself understood, they’ll listen. They’ll make their own decision, but they’ll listen.”
Sam folded the notes and diagrams, and slipped them into the breast pocket of his suit coat. “I’ve got to pass this information on right away. Time is short. We’ve been receiving coded messages over the BBC to begin our final preparations. The Allies could be here sooner than we thought, perhaps within the next few days.”
“That’ll catch the Germans off guard for sure,” Jan said. “They’re not expecting it so soon. I hope it’s true. One of the officers seems suspicious of me. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep them fooled.”
Sam shook his head. “You know we can’t—”
Jan interrupted him. “Oui, bien sûr. I understand that.”
“There is one other thing you must know,” Sam said. “It just came up. As you arrived, I was talking with a young man. I’m sure you spotted him.”
“Oui.”
“He came to warn me that the Gestapo is hunting for me. They came to the home of a White Brigade operative in Merksem.”
“Was he arrested?”
“Non, and I’m sure that was intentional. They’ll be watching his movements very closely, though he may not be going anywhere for awhile because the boy said they broke his collarbone.”
Jan winced.
Sam continued. “We will not meet again until this is over. I’ll have to remain off the streets until the action starts. If you discover anything else that you think we need to know, go to the Café Brig between eight and ten o’clock any night. It’s just over there, on the street facing the dock. Go to the bar and ask for a Trappist Ale from Liege. They won’t have it, so take any beer and have a seat. You’ll be contacted. It’s a last resort backup. Don’t use it unless you think it’s critical.”
“Je comprends,” Jan said.
Sam paused and looked into Jan’s eyes. “There’s one more job you’ll have to do. As soon as you hear that the Allies have crossed that bridge and are about to enter the city, you must find the telephone lines coming into their headquarters building and cut them. They’re probably in a utility room of some sort in the lower level.”
Jan nodded. “Then what?”
“White Brigade Resistance fighters will lead the first Allied units through the city. They will guide them to the park and the headquarters building. Stay in the building, or close by, and surrender to any Allied officer. Tell them you’re with the White Brigade, and they are to take you to Antoine.”
“Antoine?”
“That’s all you need to know. Tell them to take you to Antoine. With any luck, they’ll know what to do.”
“I certainly hope so,” Jan said with a thin smile. “At least I’m not wearing a German uniform so they may not shoot me on sight.”
The two men shook hands and walked off in opposite directions.
Chapter 62
ON THE THIRD DAY of Anna’s strange imprisonment, Otto finally consented to take her outside the house. It was early afternoon, and she had just finished another fine meal prepared by the massive man who was her jailer and private chef. She felt much better after three days of good food, soap and water, and fresh clothing, sleazy and garish as it was. Though the dread of Koenig’s return was like a rock in her gut, the lethargy and mental dullness induced by the horror of Drancy had subsided and she was able to think more clearly.
They stepped onto the wooden porch, and Otto indicated that she should sit in one of the two wicker chairs. Then he placed a handcuff on her right wrist and clamped the other cuff around the arm of the chair.
Anna gave him a coy smile. “Is that really necessary, Otto? If I tried to run away you could shoot me before I’d taken ten steps.” She gestured toward the pistol that was perpetually strapped around his waist.
He didn’t respond.
“Ah, ja…natürlich,” Anna said. “If Koenig returned and found that you’d shot his little concubine, that wouldn’t be so good for you, would it?”
He stood, leaning against one of the pillars that supported the overhang, arms crossed over his mammoth chest and looked away.
The sun was warm and the tall grass in the meadow was waving in the soft breeze. Beyond the meadow was the dense forest that Anna remembered driving through when they arrived. She considered Otto and wondered what this man must think of the demented Koenig—or was he just as bad and she hadn’t found out yet?
So far Anna had been unsuccessful in her attempts to engage him in any type of conversation, but she knew she had to keep trying. If she had any chance of escaping, it had to be before Koenig returned. “Where did you learn to cook?” she asked, hoping to get more than a one-word answer.
Otto appeared startled by the question. He hesitated then said, “From my mother…when I was a boy. We had a large family and my father died when I was young. I had to help out.”
“Well, she taught you very well. The food ist wunderbar.”
He nodded, uncertainly.
“So, where is your home?” Anna asked
“Munich.”
Anna smiled at him. “I’ve been to Munich, once, with my father. It’s a beautiful city.”
He nodded again.
“What did you do before the war?” she asked, still probing, hoping to find some way to reach him
.
“Polizei.”
“So, I suppose that’s why they made you a Feldgendarme. Do you enjoy your work?”
His face darkened. He turned away again. It was obvious she had struck a nerve.
“I’m sorry, Otto. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I enjoyed being a policeman,” he said, staring out over the meadow. “This is different.”
“Being at war you mean?”
He shrugged. “War is war. But the rest is different, not like being a policeman.”
They remained in silence for several minutes. Clearly, something was eating at him, Anna thought. “How long were you at Drancy, Otto?”
He turned slowly, glaring at her, his eyes narrowed. Then he abruptly reached over, unlocked the handcuff and led her back to her room.
The next day rain spattered on the roof as Anna sat at the table finishing the breakfast Otto had prepared. As usual, he sat across from her sipping coffee but not eating. When she finished, Anna expected that he would order her back to her room, but he just sat there and stared at her for a long time.
Finally, he set down the coffee cup and folded his hands on the table. “Why were you at Drancy?” he asked. “You don’t look like ein Jude.”
The thought of giving an honest answer to a German Feldgendarme was so foreign to everything that had been ingrained into Anna’s soul over the last five years that she could scarcely bring herself to speak. Yet, there was something about this man. Something that suggested he wasn’t just trying to pry information out of her. “No, I’m not Jewish,” Anna said. “I was helping American and British aviators get back to Britain, and I got caught.”
Otto raised his bushy eyebrows, and Anna thought she detected the slightest hint of a smile. “So, I don’t suppose your name is really Jeanne Laurent, then, is it?”
“No, it’s Anna Kopernik.” As she said this Anna realized she hadn’t spoken her last name out loud in five years.
“Kopernik?” Otto mumbled. “That doesn’t sound—”
“It’s Polish…I’m from Krakow.”
Night of Flames: A Novel of World War II Page 32