by Soren Petrek
Madeleine kept up a steady pace, eager to cover as much ground as possible under the cover of darkness. She kept to the edge of the hedgerows and trees so that she could quickly take cover if necessary. The sounds of the day’s earlier battle were sporadic now, as if there had been some unspoken agreement to cease-fire until the sun came up and the killing could begin again the next morning. From time to time there was a brief exchange of gunfire as scouting patrols ran into one another. She knew she wouldn’t be able to move well during the day with the heavy shelling and continuous exchanges of gunfire.
After many hours of steady walking Madeleine started to see the evidence of small skirmishes. There were dead soldiers in small groups from both sides. She saw the insignia of American troops for the first time.
As Madeleine came closer to a small hamlet she heard the sound of German voices. Her plan required avoiding all combatants if possible. She moved quickly into a hedgerow and burrowed down into the damp leaves and twigs. She was glad that it was early summer. The ground was wet and the leaves made no noise as she pulled them over herself. She watched as the patrol came by. These were soldiers of the German regular army and seemed less cautious than a squad hellbent on ambushing the enemy. They were green troops, and by the careless way they walked and spoke, they simply did not seem to know any better. She was a veteran of the ambush. She had killed more than one Gestapo officer by remaining hidden before the kill. It was remarkable how her profession so easily relied on the simplest traits of human nature. Once her targets were discovered and the alarm raised, the soldiers scattered in every direction out from the killing ground to find the killer. No one thought to search the immediate area. Soldiers weren’t trained as assassins.
As she lay in the dark Madeleine reminded herself that now was the time to be more cautious than ever. She could hear the old German’s whisper in her ear, “there will come a time when passion, and not duty calls on you to kill. That is dangerous territory. Driven by passion you may kill indiscriminately, and that leads to a place from which you can never fully return.”
Madeleine stood and moved out from under the brambles and watched the road for some time before she continued down it. Eventually she would have to go around the more fortified and entrenched positions. She considered finding some more protected hiding place to wait for the battle to proceed past her. Every instinct told her that mobility kept her options open. Suddenly she saw a figure step fully into the road fifty yards ahead of her. She crouched down automatically and moved her body, crablike, towards the hedgerow. The figure started to move carefully in her direction. Had she been spotted? She believed not; she had been in the shadows when she’d first seen the movement. She eased her pistol from the pocket of the dark sweater she wore and carefully screwed the silencer into place. The man was moving cautiously, stopping every so often to look all around him. He had the feel of someone with combat experience expecting an ambush. It was a dangerous but necessary game. Once the battle began it was right in your neighborhood, the immediate hundred feet around you. All the best planning and training went out the window and things became very personal.
Madeleine carefully turned her head, never taking her eyes off the man. It was too dark to make out his uniform. Without warning the man crouched, crossed over to her side of the road and proceeded directly towards her. Every nerve in her body tingled as a wave of adrenaline passed through her, spreading electrically out from her core. She quieted her mind and slowly pulled the pistol up the length of her torso, keeping it in the dark shadow of her profile. She held it next to her face as the man crept forward. He must have sensed something, as he seemed to hesitate and peer into the hole of shadows in which she hid. He waited for what seemed like an eternity. Madeleine was not used to being hunted. She instinctively knew that the soldier could feel a presence. She had only one weapon upon which she could rely, born of training and endless dark nights alone with her fears, her thoughts, her uncertainty and the endless waiting. There was no one to share her thoughts with to help shoulder the burden she carried, no one to ease her mind through the bond of companionship. She was alone. Some people found the courage to act through the strength of those around them. She had only herself and her cold lonely courage.
“There is somebody out there, Johnny,” Trunce mouthed to himself without making a sound, his eyes darting around nervously. His mouth felt like dust but his hands were damp. This was not good. He’d never find a friendly face in this place, he thought. He had been clambering around for several days now. He was way off the grid but every time he tried to get closer to the fighting another German patrol would blunder by. What was he thinking? That he could just run to the front and skip over to the other side? With all these damn hedgerows there were hundreds of little battles everywhere. There was no defined front. Well, what did he expect? He reminded himself, I’m Airborne, and we’re always surrounded! He just wished that he could be surrounded with a few buddies. He couldn’t do shit on his own except an ambush here and there. He could do that just fine but he was trained to fight in a team. Tonight he was a goddamn guerrilla and he was sure there was another bush fighter out there just down the road! He had a signaling device in his breast pocket, a little metal toy that made a clicking sound. One click was supposed to be answered by two. There was no way he was going to click that damn thing until he knew what the hell was waiting in the dark. He lowered his body to the ground and began to crawl with his weapon held diagonally in front of him. He swished back and forth as he pulled himself ahead, snake like into the gloom. Man, it was dark but there were pockets of cave dark along the sides of the road. His night vision was good but Dracula couldn’t have seen anything in there. He paused and listened for a cough, the rustle of fabric, the sound of a safety disengaging, anything. He started to think that he might have been imagining things.
“You had better speak English,” a voice whispered as a round metal object was pressed carefully into his ear. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind.
“82nd Airborne, on your side, I hope.”
“Keep your eyes ahead and tell me if anyone is on the road.”
“Not that I can see.”
“Now, slowly turn your head and look behind you. I will not be looking away. If you move abruptly, you die. You will not hear the shot.”
Trunce knew better than to try anything. There was something chilling in the voice as it spoke. It didn’t carry threat; it carried certainty. He would die if he didn’t do exactly as he was told.
“Clear.”
“Leave your weapon and stand up slowly and move back onto the road.”
Trunce stood carefully and walked a few paces backwards into the road. He strained to see back into the darkness and saw a small figure rising up from the ground, a pistol and silencer pointed at his chest.
“You are cautious, I will give you that, Airborne. Now, any chance you have a cigarette?” Madeleine said stepping out from the darkness.
Trunce could barely believe his eyes. He felt his body uncoil and relax. She looked hardly older than he was. He could tell from the way she stood and the outline of her body that she was very much a woman, though.
“I have a pack in my pocket. May I get them?”
“Get two,” Madeleine said suddenly lowering her gun. “Let’s both have one.”
Trunce had a thousand questions but instinctively knew that now was not the time to start asking them. He lit two cigarettes and handed one to Madeleine. When she stepped closer to take it he could see the features of her face and the hard grace of her body. She reminded him of a cat. She was a frightening mixture of beauty and implicit threat.
“Merci,” Madeleine said and tasted the tobacco. She relaxed as she blew the smoke out and she looked at Trunce.
“May I pick up my weapon, ma’am?” He asked.
“Of course. We may yet need to kill a few Germans.”
“French Resistance?” John asked, unable to bridle his curiosity.
“Britis
h Intelligence, SOE.”
“Well, that explains it then.”
“Explains what?”
“Why you were better than me back there.”
“You were pretty good yourself. I am trained to wait. Sometimes it seems forever. But forever has come in the form of the United States Airborne.”
“At your service,” John said with a slow salute. “May I ask what you are trained to do?” John asked casually.
“To kill Germans.”
“Then we have something in common already,” John laughed quietly.
Madeleine couldn’t help but chuckle at the insanity of it all. They were two young people who could have just as easily stepped out of a dance hall for a quick smoke and a chat. She found herself liking the young soldier immediately. He had a calm, easy way about him. He hadn’t shown any fear and seemed to care less that she was a woman. At least he had the sense not to comment on it. Maybe he was being deferential, but in her heart she didn’t think so. The man simply had an ability to go with the moment, to adapt and improvise. She was sure there weren’t many like him. Not so young and attractive anyway. She had to admit to herself that he was handsome in an open, natural way. He was lean but broad shouldered and held himself with the kind of casual grace that cannot be learned. It was the mark of being at home within one’s own skin.
“I need to find my unit,” Trunce said.
“That will do for me also. I must get word to the British command. I need some information.”
“Then what?”
“Then I go back in and kill a few SS,” Madeleine said casually.
“Back in? So the war won’t yet be over for you either.”
“My war has been a long one, but I have one more duty to perform before I can lay down my weapons and pick up a spoon.”
“You don’t seem much like a housewife. You must be a cook then.”
“I am nobody’s wife, not yet,” she replied meaningfully.
“Courting someone?” Trunce said, accentuating his Missouri drawl.
“Oh yes, we’ve courted,” she replied wistfully, a secret smile playing on her lips, obviously misunderstanding the meaning of the word. John caught it too and felt himself blush and smile simultaneously.
Madeleine realized her mistake and laughed too. “Courting means dating, not the other?”
“Yes, although sometimes there’s some pretty close dating.”
The two paused briefly and surveyed the road.
“I hope you have a better idea of where we are than I do,” Trunce admitted.
“We are between Caen and Carentan.”
“Carentan was one of our objectives. I am way off. My plane was hit and the pilot struggled with the controls for a long time. There was so much confusion that my stick didn’t make it out all at once. I barely did.”
“And the plane?”
“I don’t know. Many planes were hit. I got out, that’s all I know. I hope the pilots made it,” Trunce said uncertainly.
“The Germans have much to answer for. There are so many dead. My brother among them.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I have a brother too. He’s younger, though. I can’t imagine your loss.”
“We had best be moving. It will be light soon and we won’t be able to move as easily.”
“Lead the way. By the way, may I ask your name?”
“Madeleine, and yours?”
“John,” he said holding out his hand. She took it. He was amazed at the firmness of her small hand’s grip. There was nothing delicate about her, he thought, but he kept stealing a glance here and there. She was a beauty, but not in a doll-like way. She was ethereal, as if formed from the most dark and terrible things of the earth into a thing of splendid radiance. He knew that he’d come across someone special. Without a second thought he knew he’d die to protect her.
The two set out, moving quietly now. When they spoke it was in whispers. There was a discipline between them. They moved as one. They both were happy to be with another person. Especially one so highly trained.
As they walked, night thinned and the first glow of the sun peeked over the horizon. The shadows became weaker and their need for stealth increased.
“Where do you think you are going?” A harsh German voice bellowed through the pre-dawn silence.
Madeleine and Trunce quickly found cover and crept forward. The voice had come from around a bend in the road.
“This one looks like Resistance,” another taunting German voice broke in.
Madeleine peered over the trunk of a fallen log and saw a squad of German soldiers surrounding a small wagon. A family sat on the wagon as the four soldiers roughly dug through a haphazard heap of their belongings. Madeleine saw one of the soldiers, dirty from battle, pulling a young woman from the cart, the girl’s mother struggling to hold onto her.
“Non,” the father cried out.
“Shut up, you,” another soldier yelled and smashed his rifle butt into the man’s face, crushing his nose, blood spurting out as it ruptured.
John raised his rifle to fire and Madeleine quickly put her hand up in front of his face. She motioned for him to flank around the side. Placing her mouth on his ear she whispered, “Wait. Fire only if you need to.” He nodded his understanding as Madeleine crawled silently around the other side of the group, her silenced pistol held slightly raised in front of her. Trunce moved to flank from the other side, careful not to create a crossfire with Madeline’s position. What he saw next he would remember for the rest of his life.
Without breaking her forward movement, Madeleine came out from the brush immediately behind and to the right of the cart. She raised her silenced pistol and shot the two soldiers nearest her. John saw a hole sprout between the eyes of each man in rapid succession. She then simply walked forward without haste and put two bullets in the side of the soldier’s head as he was trying to pull the girl off to the side. She shot the fourth as she casually stepped over the body of the third man. He had hesitated, fumbling with his rifle, and that mistake cost him everything. Trunce had seen killing and done it himself in battle. But he had never seen it done as effortlessly and surgically as now. The look on Madeleine’s face held no animation, her black eyes fixed on each man as she struck. In that instant John knew how lucky he had been last night. She would have killed him without any hesitation. An enormous respect for her solidified in his mind, along with a healthy measure of fear. She was no ordinary agent reporting on troop movements, she was death itself.
The woman holding her husband’s head on the cart was paralyzed with fear. Madeleine had moved over to the terrified girl who had watched her abductor simply melt away to her side as Madeline’s bullets tore into his brain.
Madeleine lowered her pistol and slowly put her arm around the girl’s shoulder. She led her back to her parents. The father looked through the blood that ran down his face and whispered, “Merci, merci.”
“Partez maintenant!” Madeleine said gesturing down the road with her head.
“Est- vous, L’ange de la mort?” The young woman asked as she passed.
“Je suis une fille de France,” Madeleine answered with a quick nod in affirmation. She had gone a long time without any praise or recognition for her dangerous work.
The two women smiled grimly, pride showing behind their eyes, it was an emotion Madeleine had not seen on the streets of her country for too long. It was the pride of the undefeated, knowing France would be free again. As the cart proceeded past the corpses of the Germans, the little family did not even afford the dead a glance. The soldiers were only so much dirt beneath the hooves of their horse.
As the cart passed, John walked out from his position. Madeleine had already started to drag one of the bodies to the side of the road and into the brush. John did the same and soon they had covered the soldiers and made a perfunctory search of their persons. Madeleine watched the respect Trunce gave the dead. He did not riffle through their pockets looking for valuables. Two of the men had wa
tches that he left on their wrists.
“No plunder for the victor?” Madeline asked breaking their silence.
“Not mine to take,” he said simply.
Madeleine shook her head in agreement and walked over to the middle of the road.
“Remind me not to make you angry,” John said, catching her eye. She smiled firmly in return.
“Do you see the insignia on those lapels? Those are SS Panzer; they are experienced soldiers. Two of them had ribbons from the Russian winter war. They are hard men, and animals. They raped their way across Russia and liked it. The Russians will exact their revenge for themselves. I will do it for the French.”
“Panzer means tanks. Things are going to get complicated,” John said as the rumbling of artillery began in the distance.
“The middle of a tank battle is a bad place to be,” Madeleine said, stating the obvious.
“Tanks support infantry and vice-versa. If we’re not blown to pieces we might find friendly forces,” John replied.
“Then let’s go find them,” Madeleine said striding off towards the cannon fire.
“Here we go,” John muttered, turning to follow.
As they approached the battle, Madeleine and John increased their pace. Gone was the time for stealth, as any soldiers they encountered now would be in combat. Madeleine carried the German machine gun John had taken the previous day. If they had to fight, her pistol would be of limited use. The shells screamed overhead and the ground shook as they hit the earth.
The sound of a machine gun’s constant staccato was just in front of them as they left the road and made their way up the side of a small hill. Walking on the road this close to the battle would be suicide. Both armies would have fortified positions, expecting armor or troop transport along any passable road. There would be no way through that route. At the crest of the hill smoke from the battle and the screams of the wounded rose up from below. In every direction there were entrenchments of German soldiers facing the opposite direction.
“We need to punch a hole through somewhere. It might as well be here,” John said, checking his ammunition.