Army of Shadows

by John Harris

  ‘I don’t want to be caught in any woods.’ The gunner major had fought his guns all the way up from the south and he wanted to keep them.

  ‘There are no woods in the Rue des Roches,’ Klemens pointed out, and the gunner nodded his assent.

  ‘That’s it then, gentlemen,’ Klemens said. ‘Perhaps well take a drink before we go to our posts.’

  As he rose, Goehr came forward with a tray of glasses of champagne. Since it might be their last chance to drink graciously for some time, Klemens had decided to put on a little show of ceremony. To Tarnera there was a strange air of unreality about the room. In the candlelight, with the rumbling of gunfire outside, they seemed like a lot of aristocrats in a revolution waiting for the tumbrils, and he wondered if this was what it had been like when Germany bad been defeated at the end of the other war.

  6

  Tarnera was the last to appear for breakfast the next morning. He’d been to the village with final instructions for Captain Witkus of the Afrika Korps. General Dannhüber had felt that four buses in front of his car would prevent him from seeing enough, and had decided it might be wiser to have only two - one in front and one behind - with the others further back near Colonel Klemens.

  Witkus grinned. ‘The old bastard’s frightened that if anything happens they’ll prevent him nipping to safety,’ he said.

  Returning between the crowding lorries, Tarnera remembered the shootings of the night before and was surprised that there were no weeping women or shaken fists and hysteria. The French were an emotional people, and he’d seen too many deaths in the course of the last four years not to know how they acted. But the houses were silent and, feeling that every shuttered window hid a pair of eyes, he drove through the village conscious of a collective German guilt.

  The shops hadn’t opened, he noticed, and the shutters were still up outside the bar. He decided it was a sign of mourning, but then he realized he’d seen no children about either and could only assume that their mothers were keeping them safely out of the way of heavy wheels. Yet there was a strange stillness about the place, an absence of humanity that filled him with a sense of foreboding. Something was wrong, he was certain, but he couldn’t say what it was.

  The rain had stopped and the sky was clear. Under a blazing sun, the centre of the village was jammed with vehicles and horses. It stank of petrol, diesel fumes, ammonia, and the sweat of hot human beings. A cart had mounted the pavement near the bar and the driver was wrestling with his animals, which were nervous at the throbbing vehicles and the streams of men laden with ammunition and weapons who threaded between them. One or two of them wheeled stolen bicycles loaded with loot, and there were a few civilian cars among the army vehicles - ancient Citroens, Renaults and Matfords, even the big black traction-avants the Gestapo liked to use - all piled high with kitbags and suitcases.

  As he turned into the grounds of the chateau, he heard a cow bellow in a field opposite. It sounded as though it were in agony with the need to be milked. There was a whole group of them standing where they normally gathered in the evenings and he realized he’d heard them on and off all night. It puzzled him a little that the French weren’t doing anything about it, but he decided that they were keeping out of the way until the Wehrmacht had shaken the dust of Néry from their feet. With liberation so close, they probably preferred to avoid trouble.

  When he reached the dining-room, Klemens was giving last-minute instructions to Unteroffizier Schäffer. Frobinius was just rising to his feet and, jerking his jacket straight, he buckled on. his pistol and reached for his cap.

  ‘Hello, Tarnera,’ he said. ‘Been out creating discord?’

  Tarnera couldn’t manage to answer him and Frobinius swept past him with a grin. Klein-Wuttig was waiting down the corridor, and Frobinius grinned again. ‘Have no fear, Fritzi,’ he said. ‘I shall be waiting for Herr Tarnera when he arrives in Belfort.’

  By this time, having sorted out the problem of the general’s position in the column, neither Klemens nor Dannhüber was in the best of tempers. It had been Dannhüber’s intention, thinking in terms of a long and dusty journey in the heat, to have a bath to start the day. But there was no water, not even for washing, and only a minimum amount of coffee for breakfast; something which had also irritated Colonel Klemens.

  ‘I want all orderlies, their kit and equipment away by 9 a.m.,’ he was saying quietly to Schaffer. ‘Immediately behind the general. But not you, Schäffer. I want you in the yard behind the house with a lorry, a driver, one orderly, and one sentry. I want your equipment and their equipment to go in that lorry. You understand why, of course?’

  Schaffer stiffened. ‘Of course, Herr Oberst.’ His eyes went down to indicate that he knew what was below their feet.

  Klemens nodded. ‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘Loaded properly, what there is in the cellar shouldn’t occupy more than half the lorry. The rear end will be stacked as high as possible with your equipment and yourselves. Understood, Schäffer?’

  ‘Jawohl, Herr Oberst’

  There’ll be something in it for you, Schäffer,, of course. Promotion and the additional pension it’ll bring when you leave the army. Perhaps even a little -’

  Klemens gestured with finger and thumb, and Schaffer stiffened. ‘Very good, Herr Oberst.’

  As he saw Tarnera eating. Klemens sat down alongside him ‘I shall need you later, of course, Tarnera.’ He tapped the table, nodding pointedly downwards. ‘We shall wait until the general and Colonel Kaspar have left. Then I want the rear gates closed and the cellar doors unlocked and the paintings stowed in the lorry waiting in the yard. Quickly, you understand. At that time, there’ll be only you, me, Klein-Wuttig, Schäffer and three men. Understood?’

  ‘Understood, Herr Oberst.’

  ‘Good. Get plenty to eat. A good meal carries a man a long way.’

  Sitting round the table in the Baronne’s kitchen, Reinach, Dring and Ernouf were tucking into rolls, butter, coffee and slices of excellent German sausage which had found their way there from the Germans’ pantry.

  ‘A good meal carries a man a long way,’ Ernouf pointed out.

  Reinach was staring with brooding eyes at a vase standing on the table in front of them. The Baronne sat opposite him, her face a mask.

  ‘How valuable is it, madame?’ he asked.

  ‘Probably priceless,’ the Baronne said.

  ‘It’s a lot to ask.’

  The Baronne eyed the vase. ‘It’s in a good cause, Hyacinthe. Joseph got it out of the roof last night.’

  ‘I can’t guarantee they won’t break it.’

  ‘We have to accept that. I’ll happily give it up to see the back of those filth. What are you going to tell them?’

  That there’s more where that one came from -’

  ‘I hope you’re not.’

  ‘ - but that they’re hidden in the cellar in one of the wine casks.’

  ‘Will it work. Hyacinthe?’

  There are eight more of us hidden in the stables, madame. They came through the park last night The same way we brought the crates.’ Reinach paused. ‘Madame, you should leave.’

  The old head went up. ‘No, Hyacinthe. I’ve waited for this day for years. I want to enjoy it.’

  Euphrasie appeared. They’re at the cigarette stage,’ she said. There are seven of them left, including the general.’

  Reinach rose. ‘Right. Lead us to the orderly.’

  As the German officers began to collect their papers, weapons, map cases and binoculars, Klemens’ orderly appeared with a tray.

  ‘There’s that chap Reinach outside, Herr Oberst,’ he said.

  Klemens was preoccupied with explaining to General Dannhüber the schedule of his movements to the frontier. ‘For God’s sake,’ he said in a low voice, ‘I don’t want his damned logs just now!‘

  The orderly didn’t move. ‘It isn’t about logs, Herr Oberst,’ he said. ‘He has a large package.’

  Klemens frowned, and from behind Dannhüber’
s back he signed to Tarnera to attend to the matter.

  Reinach was waiting in the corridor with Ernouf and Dring, their caps in their hands. Unteroffizier Schäffer was with them.

  ‘They insist they have something for the colonel,’ he explained. ‘They say it’s to do with -’ he looked at the floor ‘-you know, sir.’

  Reinach, his face split in his empty smile, was clutching a large object wrapped in cloth. ‘I found it, monsieur,’ he said. ‘It’s for the colonel.’ He opened the cloth and Tarnera saw a wide-topped case with white classical figures on a blue background. ‘It was in one of the old stables at the other side of the estate.’

  Tarnera frowned. Somehow, he’d believed that no one in Néry would be guilty of collaboration. For a warm fire and to fool the Wehrmacht a little, yes. but not with such as this.

  Reinach’s smile had a shifty look about it and Tarnera sighed, disappointed and obsessed with the depression brought on by the shootings and his own foreboding. ‘The colonel won’t be interested,’ he said.

  Reinach stared back at him. There was a hard look in his eye that Tarnera hadn’t seen before, a cold calculating look that made him decide he’d misjudged his fellow men. ‘I think he will, monsieur,’ he said.

  Klemens was just lighting General Dannhüber’s cigar when Tarnera opened the door. Before he could stop them, Reinach, Ernouf and Dring had slipped in behind him.

  Dannhüber’s head jerked up. ‘What the devil’s this?’ he snapped.

  Reinach gestured. ‘We just wanted to see the colonel, monsieur. That’s all. We have a gift for him.’ He opened the top of the cloth-wrapped parcel. ‘He’s been good to us and we thought he’d like this.’

  As Klemens moved forward, so did Dannhüber. ‘What’s that?’ he demanded.

  The cloth fell at Reinach’s feet. As he put the vase on the floor, Dannhüber stared at it. Kaspar joined them. ‘Good God,’ he said. ‘Where did you find that?’

  Reinach chuckled. ‘Plenty more where that came from, monsieur,’ he said. ‘We found it in the loft of the old stables at the other side of the estate.’

  Colonel Kaspar had picked up the vase with an expert’s gentle hand and was examining it. ‘Hard paste biscuit porcelain with white classical figures applied on a blue ground.’ He turned it upside down. ‘Mark: A.B. for Alexandra Brachard, jeune.’

  Dannhüber’s eyebrows rose. ‘Genuine?’

  ‘Without a doubt, sir. His blue and white jaspar-ware Wedgwood vases, in the neo-classical styles of the late eighteenth century, were copied by several contemporary potters in similar material. This is a surprisingly late reproduction.’ Kaspar turned to Reinach. ‘Did you say there were other things?’

  Reinach scratched his head. ‘At least four, monsieur. One of a dancer playing some pipes.’

  Kaspar turned to Dannhüber. ‘Probably a Siot-Decauville made for the Paris exhibition in 1900. Go on.’

  ‘A white inkstand thing with a chap on it.’

  ‘Mennecy porcelain probably.’

  ‘And a thing like a bucket with birds on it. It’s got a mark on it like a fort with crossed swords underneath.’

  ‘Peterinck.’ Kaspar’s eyebrows rose. ‘Probably around 1750. Tournai porcelain.’

  Watched by Klemens who was now beginning to grow distinctly uneasy, Dannhüber turned to Reinach. ‘Did you find the others in the stable, also?’ he asked.

  Reinach grinned his gaping smile. ‘Yes, monsieur. Ernouf s cousin - this is Ernouf - let the cat out of the bag. Before he went to Marseille to look for work.’ Reinach leaned closer. ‘He and some others hid them months ago. There are more in the wine vats, monsieur. Near the paintings.’

  Dannhüber leaned forward. ‘What paintings?’

  Klemens’ complexion was rapidly changing colour. Reinach picked up the vase and wrapped the cloth round it again.

  The colonel found some old daubs belonging to the Baronne,’ he said. ‘They were pretty filthy. Somebody said one of them was a Corot or something. I wouldn’t know. About nineteen of them, I think there were. Somebody said they were valuable.’

  Dannhüber frowned. ‘Where are these paintings now?’ he asked.

  ‘In the cellar, monsieur. All crated up.’

  ‘We had them prepared for transport to Germany, General,’ Klemens said hurriedly.

  Dannhüber eyed him. ‘Ill bet you did. I’d like to look at these paintings, Klemens.’

  Klemens’ heart sank and he glanced at Tarnera. ‘Ask Schäffer to come here, Tarnera,’ he said.

  Tarnera was feeling better as he went to fetch Schäffer. ‘All is discovered, Schäffer,’ he said cheerfully.

  ‘All what, Herr Hauptmann?’

  ‘The colonel’s little scheme for the paintings. The general’s discovered it.’

  ‘What’s going to happen?’

  ‘I’m afraid the Baronne will still lose her pictures but I doubt if the colonel will get them.’

  When they entered the room Dannhüber was still questioning Klemens.

  ‘What did you intend to do with these paintings, Klemens?’ he was saying.

  Klemens’ mouth opened and shut for a moment and Tarnera stepped forward. ‘We intended to deliver them to the curator of the first museum we came to, Herr General,’ he said. ‘The first one of any size would be Breisgau, I think. I had it in hand.’

  Klemens flashed him a grateful glance as Dannhüber studied the scheme.

  ‘Good idea,’ the general said. ‘On the other hand, of course, we have to accept - and we must face this - that within a few weeks the Americans and the British will be at the borders of Germany and - who knows? - perhaps soon afterwards in Breisgau.’

  Tarnera was recovering his spirits rapidly. ‘Of course, Herr General. Unless the Wehrmacht stops them at the frontier as the Führer instructs.’

  Dannhüber gave Tarnera a look that seemed to indicate that he thought the Führer hadn’t a cat in hell’s chance of stopping even a boy on a bike.

  ‘Under the circumstances,’ he resumed, ‘I think it might be wiser if the collection were not simply dumped in Breisgau, as you suggest, because as soon as they cross the border the French will be looking for it. I know these paintings and I think perhaps they should be split up. Shall we say, some to your home, Klemens? You nave somewhere to keep them, I presume?’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘So have I. So I think some to my home also and some to Colonel Kaspar’s. We can keep things quiet there until the uproar dies down and we can convey them deeper into the Reich.’

  ‘Of course, Herr General.’

  Tarnera coughed, enjoying himself. The colonel, Herr General, indicated that I might be able to hide one of the pictures too, and Major Klein-Wuttig another.’

  Dannhüber’s look suggested that Klemens was a fool to let so many people into the secret. ‘If he said so,’ he conceded. ‘You’d better take them from the group Colonel Klemens -will be caring for.’ He glanced at Reinach and the others waiting patiently in the background, Reinach still clutching the vase, and turned back to Klemens. ‘I think we just have time to take a look round the cellar. Sevres vases shouldn’t be allowed to rot in old wine casks, should they?’

  It was noticeable as Schaffer led off - followed by Tarnera, then Dannhüber, Klemens, Kaspar and Klein-Wuttig - that Major Doench from Rolandpoint, Major Rieckhoff from St Seigneur, and Fregattenkapitan von Hassbach joined them. Not only were they highly intrigued by what was happening, but it had also occurred to them that there might well be a piece of Sevres porcelain lying about loose which was small enough to be stuffed in the pocket.

  Schaffer led the way out of the front door and round to the back of the house, his boots crunching on the gravel. Reinach, Dring and Ernouf brought up the rear. As they reached the yard, Klemens glanced round. His orderly was standing with the driver by the waiting lorry and there was a sentry on the open gate. Beyond was the tumult of the village street where the column was trying to get under way.

 
‘Close the gates, Schaffer,’ Klemens said.

  The big wooden gates were slammed to. They could still smell petrol and diesel fumes and hear engines revving up.

  ‘Shift the hay, Schaffer,’ Klemens said, his mind seething with frustrated rage.

  Schaffer clicked his heels and signed to the sentry. There was a long-handled fork leaning against a cart, and the sentry and Schäffer got to work.

  ‘You had them well hidden, Klemens,’ Dannhüber observed cheerfully.

  ‘It seemed wise, General.’ Klemens gave a sick grin.

  Tarnera, Wuttig and I worked on this with Unteroffizier Schäffer.’

  Schäffer, Klein-Wuttig and Tarnera exchanged glances. The old bastard was shopping them all.

  ‘Open the door, Schäffer,’ Klemens said as the worn boards appeared. Schäffer fished out his key and unlocked the heavy padlock.

  ‘Light. Wuttig!’

  There was a hurricane lamp standing in the corridor behind the door. Klein-Wuttig lit it and replaced the glass. Dannhüber stared at Reinach’s new door with interest.

  ‘Nice piece of work, Klemens,’ he said.

  ‘We built it,’ Reinach said loudly from the rear of the party, ‘We’re proud of that door. It moves like a dream. Not a sound.’

  Dannhüber wasn’t listening. He was examining the woodwork with interest.

  ‘Well, if nothing else.’ he said, ‘you’ve given the Baronne de Frager an excellent new door at the expense of the Reich, Klemens. Nobody will ever rifle her wine cellar.’

  ‘It isn’t at the expense of the Reich, monsieur,’ Reinach said politely. ‘It’s at Colonel Klemens’ expense. It’s still to be paid for.’

  ‘Has it now?’ Dannhüber smiled. ‘How much is it to cost?’

  ‘Around seven thousand francs, monsieur. And cheap at the price.’

  Dannhüber grinned suddenly and looked maliciously at Klemens. ‘Under the circumstances, Klemens, you’d better pay up. It might be your last chance.’

  ‘Of course, General,’ Klemens fished in his wallet and sourly handed over the notes to the delighted Reinach. Then, moving a pick handle leaning against the door, he fished for the key. At the back of the group, Tarnera was smiling broadly.