Attack at Night

by Robert Jackson

  There was a sudden sharp crack and Preuss threw himself against the side of the cockpit, an involuntary cry bursting from him. Then tremors of heat and cold ran through his body as he realized that he was still alive.

  He looked down. The upper half of Rainer Becher lay on the flight deck, his legs still in the nose compartment. He held a smoking Luger. General von Falkenberg lay on the floor, sprawled across the entry hatch that gave access to the flight deck.

  The navigator came forward and bent over the general. A moment later a blast of freezing air roared into the cockpit as the hatch was opened. Then it was slammed shut again. When Preuss looked round, the navigator was back in his seat and the general was gone.

  Becher jettisoned the missiles and the Dornier, although still losing height, was now losing it more slowly. Carefully, Preuss swung the nose round towards Spanish territory.

  After a minute or two of silence, he said: ‘We’ve been together a long time. Long enough to get our story straight. About the general, I mean.’

  ‘The general?’ said the navigator. ‘I could have sworn he was on one of the other aircraft. Probably got blown to bits.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rainer Becher. ‘What general?’

  He spoke for all of them.

  EPILOGUE

  The news from Italy was not good. The Allied invasion force had gone ashore on the Anzio beaches on schedule and at first had met little opposition, but the Germans had reacted with unexpected swiftness and now, early in February 1944, the Anglo-American divisions were engaged in bitter fighting and unable to break out from the beach-head they had established. It seemed that the war would not be shortened, after all.

  Douglas had told Colette none of this when he visited her in the military hospital on Gibraltar. She was recovering from a severe bout of pneumonia, and the doctors had stressed that she was not to be upset in any way. So he had sat there beside her bed and held her hand, and made small talk until she had drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

  He walked slowly down the hospital steps, narrowing his eyes against the sun, lost in his own thoughts. He did not really see the tall figure ascending the steps towards him until a familiar voice greeted him.

  ‘Well, Douglas. And how is she?’

  Startled, Douglas looked up and a moment later threw a hasty salute in the general direction of Brigadier Masters.

  ‘Improving, sir, thank you,’ he said. ‘But she has to take things very quietly for another week or two. She hasn’t to have any worries. I didn’t know you were here,’ he added.

  ‘Oh, I’ve a job or two to take care of in Gib,’ the brigadier told him cryptically. ‘By the way, it was a good show you put up in France. A very good show indeed, KG 100 won’t be troubling anybody for a long time, I fancy.’

  Masters frowned suddenly. ‘You said that Colette has to take things easily — no sudden shocks, or anything like that?’

  ‘That’s right, sir. Why — is there something wrong?’

  Masters put his hand in a pocket and pulled out a buff telegram envelope.

  ‘I came to give her this,’ he explained. ‘But maybe it’s not advisable just at the moment. Will you be seeing her again — when she’s a little better, I mean?’

  ‘Yes, sir. In fact, I understand we’ll both be going home on the same aircraft in a couple of weeks’ time, when my leave is over, I could have gone already, but I thought I would stay and — well, you know how it is.’ To his embarrassment, he found himself blushing.

  Masters nodded. ‘So that’s the way of it,’ he said smilingly. ‘Well, good luck to you, Douglas.’ His expression grew sombre. ‘Maybe she’ll need all the comfort she can get,’ he said. ‘Give her this when she’s in better health, will you? Break it to her gently. It’s open, so you can read it.’

  He handed Douglas the envelope. The SAS officer opened the flap and extracted the single message sheet. The few words stared up at him starkly. The signal was from SOE Headquarters in London, and was addressed to Colette personally.

  REGRET INFORM YOU ETIENNE BARBUT CAPTURED AND EXECUTED BY GESTAPO. DEEPEST SYMPATHY.

  And that was all.

  Douglas turned his face away, full of emotion. ‘Damn,’ he said softly. ‘Damn it to hell. He was a brave man. None of us would have got away without him.’

  ‘He was much more than that to Colette,’ Masters said. Douglas looked at him, puzzled, and asked what he meant. There was genuine amazement in Masters’ voice. ‘You mean Colette never told you? Good God, man. Etienne Barbut was her father.’

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