"About as well as anyone could expect to, with a busted arm and a bullet through the leg. You're our batman, are you?"
"I'm your guard. Name of Klebrig."
"Where d'you come from?"
"Stuttgart and Leicester: I've got relations in Leicester."
"You must have spent a lot of time in England."
"Four years at prep. school, actually. I was going to Rugby, but my father changed his mind; mere political prudence: can't blame him. Anything I can get you?"
"Yes, three suits of civvies and a key to the door."
"Tut-tut. Anyone would think you want to get me shot. Sorry I'm not feeling as quixotic as all that today. I 'II see if I can rustle you up some tea: the Commander drinks rather a lot of it. And there's a buxom pet of a cook called Maria-Pia who'll do anything for me as long as I keep between her and the C.O's orderly: he persistently pinches her bottom. So do I, but she doesn't seem to mind it from me."
A tray of tea came, and with it Eva.
"I am friend of Zdenka," she said. "Petar my brother you know Petar, I think?"
"Oh, my God!" Middleton exclaimed. "I must be dreaming. You're not the buxom pet of a cook, are you?"
Klebrig's voice outside the door, said "No, she's... euphemistically... the housekeeper. This one's the plump little pigeon."
This was followed by a giggle and Maria-Pia stumbled into the room, evidentially propelled by Klebrig.
She fetched up against Charlie Teoh's bed and half-fell onto it. With a squeal she cried "Dio mio! Un Cinese!"
"Her name's Maria-Pia," Klebrig explained with a certain loftiness. "Not exactly top drawer, but I'm sure she could be a bundle of fun. Eva's father is the Town Clerk and she's quite intelligent."
Eva, who had not expected the German to follow on her heels, put a warning finger to her lips as she faced Middleton.
Middleton began to tremble with delayed shock. During fleeting moments of consciousness before he was picked up, insensible, he had worried over the cruel treatment which he was certain lay in store for Tindall and himself and which Charlie Teoh was probably suffering already. He had no illusions about the Geneva Convention. He knew human nature; and it was logical and understandable that an enemy garrison who had been under frequent attack from his comrades -and himself would grab a chance to get some of their own back.
Cheered though he had been by Teoh and Tommy Tindall, he was convinced now that the whole situation was an illusion. That affable, rather camp young bastard of a guard was part of the plan to win the prisoners' confidence. When the right moment came the Germans would change their attitude to one of menace and it would be even more effective for its contrast with the present softening up.
Middleton lay in bed with his wound and his broken bone sending waves of nausea and agony through him, his mind seized by apprehension and the need for caution. It was unlikely that Zdenka and Petar had got back to Taf without being caught; much more likely that this other pretty girl, Eva, who apparently lived here with the C.O., was on the Germans' side. As for Klebrig, he was just a bloody shyster. Rugby School, my foot.
Persistent bitch, this Eva, though. Klebrig had gone and the giggly little Italian girl was sitting on Charlie's bed, smiling at him. Eva bent down to say quietly to Middleton "Tonight... Zdenka... come talk you."
Eva must be on their side too, then, Middleton thought.
His head ached and his thoughts were confused. If the whole business were a pretence, the clandestine visit to Bardoc and Eva's warning gesture just now, then there was no hope for them: sooner or later they would be handed over to the Gestapo for a questioning which would be tougher in proportion to the delay in surrendering them; and, after that, the misery of imprisonment for the duration of the war.
But he had instinctively trusted both Zdenka and Petar, and his judgment was usually sound: anyone who had experience of dealing with boys understood humankind; and Eva had seemed genuinely taken by surprise when she warned him to be silent a minute or two ago.
Grappling with the problem only made his head ache more.
Fifteen
Wg. Cdr. Beale said, uncompromisingly, "We've got to get those chaps out of there: we can't afford to lose two good pilots and a navigator. Besides, it'll shake the enemy's morale to the core if we can snatch the boys from under their noses."
"I agree, Arthur." Gp. Capt. Mason had been thinking that it was about time that he got a share of the fun, and here was a chance to lead an operation in which he could justify his participation. It was, strictly, his job to command the wing from the ground, not to fly on operations when there was a perfectly competent Wing Commander Flying to lead them. But an attack to liberate three of his officers, especially as it would mean a combined operation with the other two Services, would be a special circumstance and he could get away with it.
Sqdn. Ldr. Grimes had no hesitation either. "We've got to be quick, or they'll move them."
Fit. Lt. Hargreaves, who had been flown back to Afrona for this conference, endorsed this. "According to the reports coming through, sir, George Middleton's pretty groggy and they won't be able to shift him for a couple of days. Tommy Tindall's condition is also rather weak, and although Charlie Teoh wasn't injured he was badly shaken up and bruised when he ditched. He's fit enough to be moved but the Germans won't waste effort on two trips to Taf; they 'II wait till all three can be taken away together."
"Which gives us twenty-four hours," the group captain said. "If we assume they 'II be well enough to be sent to the Jugoslavian mainland or to Greece in forty-eight hours or so, we've got to pull them out at once to make sure we don't run out of time."
This was music to Beale's red and rather protruding ears. Inaction stultified him. "Can we get a message to the chaps, to warn them to fake sickness, if necessary, to make sure they are kept there?"
"Yes, sir," said Hargreaves. "And we're getting very good intelligence from Taf now, very frequently."
Grimes raised his eyebrows. "Couldn't that be just too good to be true? Couldn't it mean we're being led up the garden path?"
Hargreaves shook his head. "I believe it's genuine, sir."
The group captain, who was as impatient for action as Beale, brushed caution aside: "We've got to take the chance; and we're all going to be in the same boat, because I'm going to come on this one myself. I’ll get the two liaison officers in straight away and we'll plan the op. now. Hargreaves, you've got to find out exactly where in the Commandant's quarters they're imprisoned: there's going to be very little time to get them out, and we need accurate, detailed information."
When Hargreaves returned to Bardoc and reported what was planned, Grummitt, his eyes gleaming with lust, said "I want to volunteer to go along. George and Tommy need medical attention, and they may get shot up again in the raid; so might Charlie. It doesn't make sense to go without a doctor. Besides which, there'll probably be other casualties as well." And, he was thinking, if that gorgeous Zdenka's hanging around the boys, I’ll be able to give her a spot of strictly non-medical attention at the same time; maybe bring her back with me.
"That makes sense," Anstey agreed. "The Army would normally send one of their M.Os, but I know the group captain will thoroughly approve of your volunteering and insist it's the R.A.F.'s right to send one of ours. Well done, Grum.'" (He was known as Grum not so much because it was short for Grummitt as because it was short for grumble-and-grunt, which in rhyming slang stood for the young doctor's chief interest.)
In the mess at Afrona that evening Ianto Parry-Jones was indulging in more of his characteristic inflammatory rhetoric. "We can't leave those boyos there to rot, look you. Taf's not so far from here, after all, and it's very close to Bardoc: we should go in and get them. If I weren't a man of the blood-dy cloth, look you, I'd take a revolver and go and get them out myself. I mean, they're so easily within reach."
Grimes, who was intolerant of the padre at the best of times, spoke quietly to the group captain; who, although more amused than irrit
ated by the Rev. Parry-Jones, was growing weary of his pugnacious loquacity. The group captain smiled, nodded, and beckoned Ianto into a quiet corner.
"This is Top Secret padre: we are going to get those types out of Taf. Grummitt's volunteered to come with us, to look after them and any other casualties." He paused and held the padre's eye,
Parry-Jones's Adam's apple oscillated with excitement.
"By God, sir, I ought to be there too: men can't go into action, look you, without benefit of clergy to give them spiritual comfort if they're blood-dy wounded; or worse."
"Good man." The group captain's Harrovian reserve almost broke down to the point of clapping the reverend volunteer on the back; but Ianto's goaty smell (he hadn't been in the sea that day) and soiled, sweat-stained bush shirt held him back. "You'll come to all briefings, then: we're calling it Operation Cwmry. That ought to please you: it's a pun on Taf and it's bound to be totally incomprehensible to the enemy if they do happen to get hold of it."
"Boyo... Sir... That's blood-dy brilliant." The padre went off chortling to have another large Italian brandy to drink a private patriotic and Top Secret toast.
*
While Ianto Parry-Jones was celebrating his impending introduction to active warfare, Middleton was coming to the surface of consciousness again after another deep sleep. He was aware of voices. Opening his eyes blearily he saw a strange, tall figure leaning on a shooting stick. His unbelieving ears heard the stranger say "Och, aye, he's awake the noo." Rescue already! But no, as his eyes focused he saw that the visitor wore German naval uniform; and was now looking directly at him and saying "Good evening, Flight Lieutenant Middleton. My name is von Trampel: I'm in command here. I hope you are feeling better?"
"Good evening... sir. Yes, thank you."
"I was saying to your friends, it was a brave raid you put on this morning." Middleton let that go. Aircrew were given lectures on caution in captivity: on resisting attempts at drawing them into seemingly casual conversation; warned to beware of the softening-up process which prefaced harsh interrogation. "I happen to have some good malt whisky. Perhaps you'd care for a wee dram?" von Trampel took a bottle from the bedside table and poured whisky into four glasses. "Water, anyone?" He sounded as genial as an indulgent uncle. "No? Good. I see you know better than to contaminate good Scotch." He raised his glass. "Here's to your health, gentlemen."
The three R.A.F. officers looked at each other, lifted their glasses and muttered "Good health," and drank gratefully.
von Trampel lowered himself stiffly into a chair. "In case you're wondering why you're here, instead of in cells, I must warn you it's for your own protection. I didn't want any... accidents." He smiled thinly, the sabre slash on his face changing shape. "There's a certain amount of resentment towards the R.A.F. Understandable, I think you’ll agree." He paused, inviting comment. When none came, he went on; "I won't insult you by asking for your parole: I know you aren't allowed to give it. But since I can't ask you, on your honour, to promise not to attempt to escape, I'm afraid I've got to keep you under lock and key. My housekeeper is too busy to nurse you, so I've brought in an extremely capable and intelligent young woman to do that. To cause the least disturbance, I'm moving you to the cellars and she will stay there also. Not, I regret in the same room." He smiled again, rather roguishly this time.
Middleton felt he had to say something. "Thank you...sir."
"You will sleep in one cellar and there will be a portable toilet in an adjoining one, with washing facilities of course. Your nurse will sleep in a separate cellar, but she will have a key to yours. The door leading down to the cellars will be kept locked and both my orderlies will be armed at all times."
"How long will we be here, sir?" Middleton asked.
"Until you have fully recovered from your injuries. Of course Flying Officer... Teoh is quite well now, apart from a few bruises, but I shall allow him to stay until you can all be transferred together."
"To a prison camp," Middleton suggested.
"Eventually." There was a touch of menace m the intonation.
"After the Gestapo have had a go at us?" Middleton said coldly.
von Trampel's expression changed. "Tell me, Flight Lieutenant, are the British really reduced to attacking hospital ships?"
"She was blatantly being used as a troop transport, for one thing; and for another, there was no movement signal. She broke the Geneva Convention."
The deception by Nurnberg had humiliated and angered von Trampel. He gave no direct reply. Instead, with a look of scorn, he said "And you're recruiting in Hong Kong, it seems? Haven't your ain folk got any stomach for flying?"
"I volunteered," Teoh cut in indignantly. "I came to England at my own expense."
"Sir, if you please."
Teoh, tight-lipped, conceded, "Sir."
von Trampel stood up. "Now that you're awake, Flight Lieutenant Middleton, I’ll have you all moved down to your new quarters, and you can then have your dinner. The M.O. who's looking after you will be in later to see you: he's dining with me." He paused expectantly.
"Thank you, sir." Middleton spoke for them all.
Hardly had von Trampel left them when the key turned in the lock again and Klebrig came in, carrying a stretcher. "We've come to carry you down to the cellar," he said to Middleton. "This gorilla, who's going to help me, is called Schwuler: he's the Fregattankapitän's shadow and he's an old slob."
Schwuler came "swaying into the room and glared at the prisoners. He spoke to Klebrig, who translated. "He says you ought to be on bread and water and in handcuffs, instead of drinking whisky with his beloved Commander."
"Tell him officers are never handcuffed and are entitled to better treatment, including diet, than Other Ranks," Middleton ordered. "And also tell him to show proper respect for our rank."
Klebrig grinned. "It'll be a pleasure. And here is your nurse."
Zdenka, stern-faced, stood in the door.
*
Gp. Capt. Mason's wish to rescue his officers within twenty-four hours was impracticable. The raid would have to be made by night, which meant a delay of at least a further six hours, and it would take all that time to find the naval landing craft and the Army assault force.
The plan was for an infantry-landing craft to sail for Bardoc after sunset, pick up Grummitt and Hargreaves, who was going as liaison officer, and continue to Taf in time to arrive at 2 a.m. The party on Bardoc would be withdrawn to Afrona the same night, for it was impossible to maintain operations from the air strip any longer: a German attack soon was inevitable. Fourteen Beaufighters, flown by twelve of the squadron, Wg. Cdr. Beale and Gp. Capt. Mason, would attack in pairs, to present a small target and to extend the harassment over a period long enough to allow the landing party to do its work without being detected.
The landing would be made by Marine Commandos. The R.A.F. Regiment had made a strong bid for the task but were trained in airfield defence and general infantry tactics, whereas the Commandos were specialists in lightning raids.
The two aircraft left of the Bardoc detachment flew back to Afrona on the morning of the operation, for briefing and to operate with the rest of the squadron.
It was a nervous time for everyone. The short spell on Bardoc had been interesting, enjoyable at first, but unsettling. Recent casualties had been saddening and discouraging. If the rescue attempt failed the plight of the three prisoners would be aggravated. Finally, a night raid on a land target at low-level was a new experience for them all and fraught with unfamiliar problems and dangers. The chatter and laughter among the squadron that day was high-pitched.
The air raid was intended as a diversion. Beale had wanted to destroy von Trampel's house with rockets but Gp. Capt. Mason would not allow it, on the grounds that it would give away the real purpose of the raid.
*
The German Medical Officer had seen the prisoners, Klebrig had said good night and now they were alone with Zdenka. For the first time, she relaxed and smiled. "Do n
ot worry," she reassured them. “Everything is all right. You trust me, you trust Eva. Petar is her brother. Eva hates von Trampel. She has to live here for the sake of her family, also because she can help the partisans best, like me, by staying always close to the enemy. Believe me."
"We have no choice," Middleton said, but kindly enough. "But if you have to stay here, how can you send your radio messages?"
"Petar can do it. Not so well as me, but enough. We have news already: they will save you tomorrow night."
"You mean rescue?"
"Yes, yes, that is it. Rescue."
Charlie Teoh gave a whoop of joy.
"Quiet," Middleton said crossly. "How will they do it?"
"We do not know yet. I hope they will bomb this house."
"And leave us buried under tons of rubble?" said Tindall.
"Rubble?"
"The ruins of the house."
"They could destroy only part, so soldiers can come in and take you away. Not bury you under... rubble."
"I'd rather not rely on that!"
Middleton asked "What about Klebrig?"
"He is all right. Since they kill your friends at Sprot, Klebrig is sick of Germans. He will help us."
"Schwuler?"
Zdenka drew a finger across her throat and grinned. "Also von Trampel"
"Och aye, what a bluidy shame," was Tindall's comment.
She left them, saying "Klebrig is sleeping outside your door. I sleep in next room: if you need anything, you knock on door and wake him. He will bring me."
Teoh, the most mobile of them, put the light out. Fifteen minutes later, when the other two were snoring under the sleeping pills the doctor had given them, the door creaked open and Teoh sat up. He heard Klebrig whisper "Don't worry: we provide all mod. cons. here," and giggle. The door closed and there was another giggle, a softer one, accompanied by the sound of garments being shed and followed by a hand groping among his bedclothes. MariaPia whispered "Piccolo Cinese, che bello, che simpatico,' and slid naked in beside the astonished and delighted Charlie.
My Enemy Came Nigh Page 17