Wings of the Morning

by Beryl Matthews

  The door had been opened now and she could feel the cold air rushing in. And then a strange thing happened – suddenly she was calm and focused on the task ahead of her. She made her way to the open door, and when Healey shouted ‘Go!’ she stepped out into space.

  Once the chute opened she peered into the gloom and wished the moon would come out again just for a moment so she could see her landing site. The instructor had been wrong – this was much more terrifying than jumping from the balloon in daylight. At least she’d been able to see what was beneath her then, but the moon had chosen this moment to go behind a cloud and it looked just like an empty dark pit beneath her …

  As she hit the ground every bone in her body was jarred and the breath knocked out of her, but she hadn’t injured herself – that had been her greatest fear. Thank heavens she’d missed the trees. It had been a close thing and one part of her parachute was snagged on a lower branch. The plane she had come in had already disappeared and there was darkness and silence everywhere. The drop zone was as close to Saint-Brieuc as possible. She hoped the pilot had found the right field because she couldn’t see a damned thing.

  Two men and a woman appeared out of the trees and ran towards her, quickly freeing her and rolling the chute into a bundle. They already had a hole dug and it was soon expertly hidden.

  ‘Come, come!’ the woman whispered, ‘we must hurry.’

  The men were barking out orders, and Annie was glad her French was fluent as they were speaking hurriedly and in hushed tones.

  Annie didn’t have time to ask questions until they reached a secluded farmhouse, then they introduced themselves. The man who was obviously the leader shook her hand.

  ‘My name is Pierre, and this is Marcel and Christine.’

  She shook their hands. ‘Annie.’ It had been decided that she should use her own name because if she couldn’t find Jack then he might hear it and come to her.

  ‘Welcome, Annie, you must be hungry. Sit down and Christine will give us some food.’

  Annie sat at the large kitchen table and hoped she could eat. That jump into the darkness had been terrifying and hadn’t done her stomach any good, but common sense made her pick up the spoon and start eating as if she was starving. It wouldn’t do to show any sign of weakness. These brave people lived with the danger every day but she would only be here for a short time if all went well.

  ‘You know why I’m here?’ she asked.

  Pierre nodded. ‘We were told you are looking for someone.’

  At that moment the door opened and a small man slipped into the room.

  ‘Ah, Pascal, have you had any luck?’

  ‘Maybe.’ He eyed Annie suspiciously.

  ‘This is Annie,’ Pierre told him. ‘She has just arrived. Now tell us what you’ve found out.’

  The man sat down next to Annie, and she instinctively wanted to edge away from him. He wasn’t very tall but he looked tough and not at all happy to see her. She couldn’t blame him for his caution because she knew that her presence here was a danger to them all. He kept glancing at her and shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was obvious from his attitude that he didn’t think she was going to be much use, but she was determined to prove him wrong.

  ‘There is a man being hidden in a church not too far from here, but nobody knows who he is or if he is French or English.’

  ‘Why?’ Annie asked sharply.

  Pascal glared at her. ‘He is badly injured and has not been able to speak.’

  ‘What does he look like?’ she demanded. This surly man was not going to intimidate her. She was determined to find Jack and would follow up any lead, however tenuous. Sam had only given her a week to find Jack; if she weren’t successful in that time she would have to return. Going back without him was something she was not prepared to consider.

  ‘I do not know.’ He started to tuck into the bowl of stew Christine had placed before him. ‘The place is swarming with SS and I didn’t stop to ask questions.’

  Annie stood up. ‘Tell me where this place is and I’ll go there now.’

  Pierre placed a hand firmly on her shoulder. ‘No, Annie, it is curfew until dawn. You and Christine can go and pray in this church tomorrow. No one will think that suspicious and the priest knows her.’

  Annie sat down again. Of course, that was sensible. She mustn’t allow her anxiety about Jack to make her careless. These Resistance workers knew what they were doing, and would make sure she didn’t do anything stupid. And what good would she be to Jack if she was captured or killed before she found him? The silence from him made it clear that he was in great trouble and she had to find out what had happened.

  She held her bowl out for another helping of stew. ‘Very well, we will go in the morning.’

  It was going to be a long, anxious night.

  13

  It was eleven o’clock before Annie and Christine reached the church the next morning. It was in a tiny village about twelve kilometres from Saint-Brieuc and, according to Annie’s map, another five more kilometres from the coast. The journey had been nerve-racking for her, as she expected a hand on her shoulder at any moment. Annie and Christine were on bicycles and it took every ounce of her willpower not to pedal faster when they passed German soldiers. She became even more worried when she realized they were heading inland all the time, because the man they had come to see was badly injured, and if it was Jack then the journey back to the coast was going to be a long one for a sick man.

  They slipped into a pew and Annie bowed her head in prayer. There were two Waffen SS soldiers in the old church and they weren’t there to pray. They were standing at the back and watching everyone as they came in and went out. It was frightening, but Annie copied everything her companion did, and pulled the headscarf forward so it covered more of her face.

  After about half an hour Christine whispered that if the SS men didn’t go soon they would have to abandon any action for today. If they stayed there bowed in prayer for much longer then it would look suspicious.

  Annie rested her forehead in her hands, certain that the Germans must be able to hear the thump of her heart, but she was reluctant to leave until she’d found out if it was Jack in the crypt. If it wasn’t him then she would have to start searching. She had a rough idea of where his last message came from and that would be the place to start.

  She prayed that it wasn’t Jack being hidden here, because this church was about twenty kilometres from the coast; that was a long way when you had to move with stealth.

  Christine made Annie jump when she touched her arm a few minutes later. ‘They’ve gone. Quickly.’

  Annie followed her as she lifted aside a curtain and opened a heavy oak door. This led to a flight of worn stone steps. At the bottom was a dark, bleak room. A makeshift bed had been made up behind a large marble tomb, and the priest, who was bathing a man’s face, looked up anxiously.

  ‘You must move him,’ he said. ‘It is getting too dangerous to keep him here. Two men of the Resistance brought him here; they could do no more for him, and left immediately because they were being hunted. I’m sure the SS are suspicious.’

  Annie rushed to the bed and knelt down beside the injured man. It was hard to see his face in the gloom. He had a couple of weeks’ growth of beard. She pushed his hair away from his forehead and felt like crying out in panic. She didn’t know if it was Jack or not.

  ‘Is it your friend?’ Christine asked.

  She was about to say that she didn’t know when the man opened his eyes and looked directly at her. They glittered with fever and pain but she would have recognized the bright blue anywhere. It was Jack Graham.

  She bent over and kissed his cheek. He muttered something. He was delirious and clearly didn’t know who she was but she whispered, ‘I’ll get you home, Jack.’

  ‘Come.’ Christine pulled her to her feet. ‘We will tell the men and they will move him today.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘W
e will leave that to them, but now I will take you to the first safe house on the route and they will bring him to you.’

  Annie never asked how Pierre and the others managed to spirit Jack out of the crypt right under the noses of the Germans, she was only too relieved they succeeded. Over the next three days they moved from one safe house to another, all the time getting nearer to the coast, but progress was slow and she was so afraid Jack was going to die. She prayed, talked to him and held his hand, refusing to leave his side for more than a couple of minutes at a time. If only he could know she was with him it might give him some comfort; but he didn’t appear to know her, and when he did occasionally open his eyes she saw no sign of recognition in them. The only response from him was a moan every time they moved him. He was suffering and it nearly broke Annie’s heart but she controlled her distress. These brave’ Resistance workers were risking their lives to help and she was not going to add to their problems by causing a fuss. As she nursed Jack she felt like screaming – he’s dying, we must move faster than this. But she didn’t.

  Annie was heaping more straw around Jack to try to keep him warm when she heard voices – German voices! Her heart crashed against her ribs when the barn door opened and the soldiers came in. Annie lay beside Jack and pulled his head on to her shoulder. She was so frightened. If they came up to the loft then that would be the end for them.

  Annie prayed as never before. Jack, she silently urged, be quiet or we shall be discovered. His arm moved around her waist and he became absolutely still, just as if he had picked up her urgent plea. She bit back a sob of relief. Through his delirious pain, did he know she was here? Was he aware of what was happening? She pressed her lips to his hot brow, and listened to the Germans below, hardly daring to breath. Were they looking for them?

  The barn door scraped open again and Annie heard the farmer urging the soldiers to come into the house for food and a warm fire. He sounded so friendly and accommodating but Annie knew the Frenchman was only trying to get them away from the barn. The Germans didn’t need much persuading and abandoned their search. As they all left, she allowed her rigid, tense body to relax, and sat up. That had been close. They just had to get away from here. But how?

  ‘Annie,’ Jack called.

  She bent over him, her hope rising that he was coming round. ‘I’m here, Jack.’ But her hopes were immediately dashed when she saw that he was still delirious. She clasped his hand in hers and could have wept but she couldn’t allow herself to fall apart. It was bitterly cold so she lay full length beside him, trying to keep him warm. Jack seemed to settle then and quieten down, so she stayed like that for an hour, until she couldn’t stand the waiting any longer.

  Scrambling down the rickety ladder in the barn she peered through a small hole. There was no sign of the German soldiers. Annie had always considered herself to have infinite patience but there was little of that in evidence in this situation. Anxiety was making her want to take chances, and that was dangerous. Not only for herself but also for everyone who was helping her. The Resistance workers were too experienced at dodging the Germans to allow her to put this operation in jeopardy.

  Annie sat on the floor and tried to calm her agitation, but it was useless. Where was Pierre? It was going to take days to reach the coast at this rate, but she knew she couldn’t do this on her own – she needed their help. Then she heard a cart being brought into the yard and breathed a sigh of relief. At last!

  With Pascal was a man she didn’t know; he hurried in, shinned up the ladder and carried Jack down as if he were nothing more than a child.

  ‘Quickly! The soldiers are relaxed and enjoying a good glass of wine, so we are taking you to the next safe house,’ the farmer told her.

  ‘And how far is that?’ she asked.

  ‘Five kilometres,’ Pascal informed her.

  ‘Is that all! We’ve got to make better progress than this,’ she exploded, forgetting all her good intentions to remain calm.

  ‘It is too dangerous, Annie.’ Pierre had arrived. ‘We have to go past a checkpoint as it is, so you will have to keep Jack quiet.’

  ‘Can’t we go another way?’ Annie knew how difficult that was going to be; Jack was delirious and he groaned frequently.

  Pierre shook his head. ‘The farmer has to deliver the hay to the next farm and it would be suspicious if he made a longer journey. Be patient.’

  Annie bowed her head. She had no right to question the wisdom of these moves, but she was frantic with worry for Jack. He had been badly shot up in the sabotage operation, and although someone had done a good job in patching him up, each day that passed lessened his chances of surviving. He couldn’t die like this, far away from his home and family. She wanted him to live so much.

  The journey to the next safe house had been dangerous but they’d got through the checkpoint without being challenged. The farmer made this trip several times a week and was known to the guards, so as far as they were concerned it was simply routine.

  Annie was relieved to find Christine there when they carried Jack into the house. The elderly woman with her had fresh bandages and some kind of ointment; without a word she set about tending to Jack’s injuries. He had at least four gunshot wounds, two of which were obviously not serious, but despair ripped through Annie when she saw the other two. They were infected, and it was no wonder he was delirious.

  She spun round, fists clenched, to face Pascal. ‘How much longer before we reach the coast?’

  ‘Not long,’ he told her. ‘You had better send a message now.’

  Annie hurried upstairs, set up her wireless and tapped out the signal to Sam. It had been arranged before she’d left England and was only four words – Wish you were here. She waited, counting the seconds, because every one that passed put them all in danger. The reply came through quickly, and after deciphering it she went back downstairs.

  ‘A boat will pick us up in two days’ time, at two in the morning from a bay ten kilometres north of Saint-Brieuc. Can we make it?’ Annie asked anxiously.

  ‘We’ll get there in time,’ Pierre assured her.

  When they reached the coast two days later, Annie was just about at the end of her strength. When the sea came into view and she heard the gentle sound of waves caressing the beach she nearly wept in relief. The sound and smell of the sea was the most wonderful thing in the world to her at that moment. They’d made it, and Jack was still alive, but only just. How he had survived the journey was a miracle.

  They scrambled on to the beach and laid Jack in a sheltered spot to protect him from the biting wind. Annie shone the torch on her watch. They’d arrived with half an hour to spare. She walked forward until the water was lapping at her feet and then scanned the sea for any sign of the signal.

  An hour later she was still standing in the same place and watching. Had she got the time wrong? Would they be able to come? Was this the right place? Oh, God, suppose she had come to the wrong beach? Doubts assailed her.

  ‘Annie,’ Pierre called softly. ‘Over to your left.’

  There was the flashing light she’d been waiting for. She let out a pent-up breath, returned the signal, then turned to the men who had helped her, and silently hugged them in turn. It was impossible to put her gratitude into words. ‘You go now,’ she whispered. ‘You mustn’t get caught here.’

  They slipped into the darkness and she was left alone, watching a small rowing boat make its way towards her.

  Two men leapt out. ‘Where is he, Annie?’

  ‘Over there,’ she answered in surprise. ‘You shouldn’t be here, Sam.’

  ‘Get in the boat,’ he ordered. ‘We’ll argue about it later.’

  The motor torpedo boat was a welcome sight and she groaned in relief as Sam tossed her aboard. Willing hands lifted Jack on to the deck and he cried out at the rough handling.

  ‘There’s a doctor with us,’ Sam told her.

  She tried to soothe Jack’s pain, talking quietly to him, as she had done throughout thi
s dreadful journey. The boat purred its way out to sea, moving as quietly as it could.

  ‘Let’s get him inside,’ the doctor ordered.

  Annie followed them and watched as they went to work on the dying man.

  ‘How badly hurt is he?’ Sam asked the doctor, after they had managed to strip the clothes from their patient.

  ‘He has been shot several times, but someone has made a reasonable job of tending his wounds before he lost too much blood, and that has obviously kept him alive. However, I will need to get him to an operating theatre as soon as possible.’

  The boat picked up speed as it left the Brittany coast behind, and Annie knew that England was going to be a very welcome sight. She closed her eyes as utter exhaustion swept through her and didn’t protest as someone picked her up and put her on a bunk. Then, with all her responsibilities taken from her, she slept for the first time in days.

  There was an ambulance waiting for them at Dover and they sped to the nearest hospital. When they arrived Jack was rushed straight into the operating theatre.

  ‘Drink this.’ Sam handed her a mug of black coffee, made by a kindly ward sister.

  ‘Any news yet?’ she asked, sipping the piping hot liquid. They’d been here for two hours; what was taking so long?

  ‘No, they are still operating.’ Sam sat next to her, studying her pinched and weary face. ‘Is it any good telling you to leave?’

  She shook her head.

  At that moment the doctor came striding down the passage and she jumped to her feet. ‘How is he?’

  ‘I’ve done the best I could but his injuries are severe. If we’d been able to treat him as soon as it happened he might have stood a chance.’

  Annie’s head began to swim and she swayed as the floor seemed to be coming up to meet her. ‘What are you saying?’

  Sam had a firm grip on her and nodded to the doctor. ‘Tell her the truth.’

  ‘Well, he’s survived the operation but I’m afraid he will not live more than a few hours.’ He gave them a sympathetic look. ‘I’m so sorry, but we’ve done everything we can for him.’