The wind had risen slightly, blowing clouds across the face of the moon so there was little light to see by, but Tony did not mind. Although he had to take greater care of where he was walking, he was less likely to be seen by any German patrols. He walked for almost an hour until he came to a dense thicket of trees which he felt was far enough from the Boues’ home to be safe. After carefully reconnoitring the area to make sure that there were no signs of life, he forced his way into the centre of the thicket and set to work.
Tony opened the suitcase to reveal a cadmium steel box eight-and-a-half inches by five-and-a half by four-and-a-half, and a six-volt battery. As he removed a small bakelite box from his breast pocket, a detached part of his brain wondered at his coolness. It was so much like being on a training exercise that it was easy to forget this was enemy territory. Moving swiftly and surely, he opened the small box and used the pair of tongs inside to lift out the postage-stamp sized crystal, which was cut to a precise wavelength. He plugged it into the set, checked the battery connections and, when he was sure everything was in order, took a deep breath and sat back on his heels for a moment. This was it then. He placed the headset in position, rubbed his hands together, took a final look at the pre-encoded message, took another deep breath and began. His fingers moved easily as he tapped out his name and code.
"Albert. KHURQILHOG."
He sat in total stillness for a moment, wondering at his own calmness as he waited for acknowledgment of his code, the letters of Heronfield transposed three places. Then it came, the regular beep...beep...beep... of Morse in his headset.
"Receiving."
Tony’s fingers began to briskly type out the message.
"Arrived safely. In safe house. Contact made with Resistance. Over."
The reply was swift. "Received. Will continue listening. Over."
"Understood. Out."
Tony removed the crystal and replaced it in its box, before slipping it into his pocket. The headset was put back in the case and the battery disconnected. In moments the case was closed, and he was making his way back towards Jean-Paul’s cottage. It had all gone like clockwork, and he should have felt good, but reaction to the evening’s tension was building up. Half-way back to Jean-Paul’s, Tony had to sit down. His legs and hands were shaking as though he had been exposed to extreme cold, and a slight throbbing at his right temple told him that he would soon have a headache. He leant back against a tree for a few moments, eyes closed and breathing deeply. He was scared now, far more so than on his way to make contact or during the transmission. What if his transmission had been intercepted? There could be Germans out looking for him at this very moment. He rose to his feet and continued towards Jean-Paul’s at as fast a pace as was possible in the darkness. He was breathless when he finally reached the edge of the trees and stopped to look carefully around for any signs of movement. When certain that all was safe he ran over to the cottage and knocked on the door. It was opened immediately.
"Albert. Is everything all right?"
Tony grinned. "Yes Jean-Paul. It was easy. Now let's hide the stuff and then have a drink."
59
Tony and Jean-Paul began their search of the coastline soon after dawn the following morning. Tony did not like the idea of working in daylight but, by the very nature of the task ahead of them, this was the way it had to be done. The submarine pens would be well concealed, so they could easily miss them if searching in the dark. To the north of the city was a stretch of sand which shelved gently into the sea, a totally unsuitable place for U-boats, so they began their search just north of this where the cliffs fell sharply to the sea and the deep blue of the waves indicated deep water. Each man carried a pair of binoculars. Lying flat on the cliff edge, they carefully scrutinised every inch of the cliff face below them. There were so many cracks and crevices that their eyes soon became tired. After three hours they had covered little more than two miles of the cliff face, and the tide was coming in rapidly. Tony rubbed his eyes and rolled over onto his back. Seagulls wheeled overhead, calling shrilly, and Tony hoped they would not attract the attention of German patrols. He turned towards Jean-Paul.
"We may as well give up now. As the water’s rising it may cover a secret entrance. We'll have to come back again when the tide turns."
Jean-Paul nodded. "Let's go."
The two men crawled along the cliff top until they reached a stand of trees, then rose to their feet. Tony led the way silently to where the trees bordered the road and listened intently.
"Trucks."
The two men crouched down. The sound of the engines drew closer and Tony felt a shiver run down his spine. It was just like waiting for the Panzers on the road to Dunkirk; but this time the idea was to remain undetected. As he crouched lower, the first truck rounded the corner and came towards them. It was a covered truck, carrying supplies of some sort, followed by another half-dozen similar vehicles. The trucks disappeared northwards, and an idea came to Tony. He smiled.
"Jean-Paul, perhaps we’re going about this search in the wrong way. It’s true that the U-boat pens will be well hidden, but they will need supplies and spares for repairs. They must be accessible from the cliff top."
Jean-Paul grinned and struck his forehead with the heel of his hand.
"But of course! We should be looking for the tracks of heavy vehicles leading to the cliff edges, or perhaps a cliff path!"
"That's right. It will certainly be easier than searching the whole cliff face inch by inch." Tony was thoughtful for a moment. "Can you get in touch with Madeleine, so she can tell the others what to look for?"
Jean-Paul nodded. "I can go into Saint Nazaire on estate business this afternoon. I’ll see her then."
Jean-Paul made contact with Madeleine later that day, and she promised to speak to Claude and Charles later the same evening. Tony spent the reminder of the day working on the estate to establish his cover story in the eyes of the German soldiery. It was not until early the next morning that he and Jean-Paul began to search the cliff-top for tracks which might indicate a supply point for the U-boat pens. The cliff-top the north of Saint Nazaire was barren, which made the task more difficult as they could not approach the edge without being observed from the road. So far they had seen no German patrols, but if the U-boat pens did exist there would be some sort of security for them; this might well be hidden so they had to proceed cautiously. By mid-afternoon they had moved some five miles further up the coast, with no sign of a well-used track or path leading to the cliff edge. It was a very disheartened and tired pair who made their way back to the Boues' cottage that evening. Theresa and Jeanne were curious about what their father was doing.
"Why haven't you been working as usual today, Papa?"
Jean-Paul gently ruffled his younger daughter’s hair. "I’ve been showing Albert around. He wants to get to know the area around the estate better."
"Why?"
Jean-Paul shrugged. "Why not? He’s living and working here now."
"What about the Germans, Papa? Won't they expect you to do your work?"
Theresa nudged her younger sister, whispering "Perhaps they’re doing something the Germans won't like. You shouldn't ask so many questions Jeanne."
Jeanne gazed at her father, wide eyed. "Are you and Albert fighting the Germans, Papa? Can I help?"
Tony laughed, trying to change the subject. "How can we fight the Germans, Jeanne? We have no weapons, and there are only two of us."
"I wish you would fight them, Albert. I hate them."
"Me too,” said Theresa.
Tony looked at Theresa. Although she was only eleven, he saw something in her eyes which gave him pause for thought. Jeanne had just been chatting, like all small girls do, but Theresa’s face was deadly serious. Had she guessed who he was, and what he was doing? Would the girls be a danger to his mission?
Jean-Paul noticed Tony’s frown and rose to his feet.
"That's enough of this chatter, girls. Time for bed."
&nbs
p; Jeanne rose to her feet and flung herself into her father’s arms, placing a huge wet kiss on each of his cheeks.
“Goodnight, Papa."
“Goodnight, my little one." He put the child down and patted her gently on the bottom. “Now, off you go to bed."
As Jeanne’s footsteps were heard thumping up the stairs Theresa turned to face her father.
"Are you working with the Resistance, Papa?"
Jean-Paul frowned. "Why do you say that?"
"Because you’ve changed your routine since Albert arrived." She directed her serious gaze at their guest. "I recognised him on the first day. I remember Madame’s house in the summers before the war. But don’t worry, Jeanne doesn’t remember. I think you’re working with the Resistance to try to get rid of the Germans, and I want to join the Resistance too."
"Who do you think I am?"
Theresa turned to Tony. "I know you’re the grandson of Madame de Thierry. But don’t worry Albert, I won’t give you away. This is my country and I have the right to fight if I wish." Her eyes were pleading. "Please trust me. I won’t let you down."
Tony’s heart was in his mouth. What should he do now? He knew that Theresa had every intention of keeping his secret, but what if things went wrong? Would she be a liability? Would her life be in danger too? He frowned as he took in the serious expression on the child’s face in front of him. At last he nodded slowly.
"I don't know why you think I’m the grandson of Madame de Thierry, but if I was, I would trust you as your father’s daughter. But I have no rights over you, Theresa. If your father knows anything about the Resistance it is up to him to decide what he wants you to do."
The young girl turned eagerly towards her father.
"Please let me help, Papa."
Jean-Paul’s frown deepened. "What do you know about the Resistance?"
Theresa shrugged.
"Nothing much. There are rumours at school." Her face was grim. "I hate the Germans, Papa. If you are helping the Resistance, perhaps you could find work for me. There must be many things someone my age could do. The Germans wouldn't suspect me."
Jean-Paul was thoughtful. Tony did not envy him his problem. Finally he broke the silence.
"You are old enough to understand something of this war, Theresa. You understand it is dangerous, and it will probably take us years to defeat the Germans. Any work that the Resistance does must be kept a secret. It could cost the lives of many brave Frenchmen and women."
Theresa nodded. "I understand, Papa. I don't think Jeanne understands or even knows about the Resistance. But I do, and I want to help."
Jean-Paul took his elder daughter’s hand in his, and squeezed tightly.
"You’re very precious to me, Theresa. I wouldn’t want to put your life in danger..."
"But Papa!"
Jean-Paul held up his hand to quieten her. "I was going to say that I wouldn’t want you to put your life in danger, but if I ever have contact with the Resistance, and if they can use you without endangering you then I shall consider it."
Theresa smiled. "Thank you, Papa. I understand." She turned to their guest. "Goodnight Albert. I won't let you down."
“Goodnight, Theresa."
She turned back to her father and hugged him tightly. “Goodnight, Papa."
Jean-Paul closed his eyes and held her tightly. “Goodnight, Theresa."
The young girl made her way towards the door then turned back.
"Papa. Albert. Please be careful."
Then she turned and was gone.
Jean-Paul sighed deeply and turned to Tony.
"I’m sorry about that. I had thought that Theresa was too young to recognise you. If I’d known that she remembered you, I could have found somewhere else for you to hide."
"That’s all right, my friend." Tony smiled. "You have a very remarkable daughter there. So perceptive, and so brave."
"Do you wish to find somewhere else to hide? I'm sure she won't betray you, but if you wish to go I’ll understand."
Tony shook his head. "No. I don't think Theresa will speak of this to anyone else. I trust her." He frowned thoughtfully. "Would you be willing to let her help us?"
Jean-Paul rose and poured each of them a glass of wine to give him time to think. Finally he turned back. "I don't want to, Albert, but she is French, as I am, and she loves her country. If she’s willing to help, then it would be wrong of me to stand in her way. I would rather she helped us than try to do something stupid on her own."
Tony nodded. "I understand. You must be very proud of her."
Jean-Paul nodded. "I am."
"I’ll be honest with you, my friend. I won’t ask her to help in anything that I would consider to be too dangerous."
Jean-Paul smiled. "Thank you."
"Well." Tony stood and stretched as he spoke. "I'm for bed. We have a lot of work tomorrow."
It was a dull day. A light drizzle fell steadily, soaking their clothing and depressing their spirits. Tony and Jean-Paul made their way slowly through a narrow stand of trees, stopping frequently to study the cliff top with their binoculars. Jean-Paul noticed the tracks first, and pointed them out to Tony. He trained his binoculars on them and studied them carefully. The tyre marks made a well-defined track through the trees and out over the grassy cliff edge. They were deeply rutted, signifying that heavy loads had passed that way, and puddles gathered in the ruts as the rain increased.
"They seem to go right over the cliff edge."
Jean-Paul nodded. "I believe there’s a narrow cliff path there, but it’s not large enough for vehicles. I can't imagine how they could get supplies down there if this is the place we’re looking for."
“What’s down there? Caves? A beach?"
Jean-Paul frowned. "I haven't been here since I was a child. If I remember correctly, there’s a cave, but the approach to it by water is very narrow. There’s also a wide rock ledge at the base of the cliff path."
"Sounds promising, but we can't get any closer now. If there are U-boat pens down there then there are bound to be security patrols around. We’d better come back when it’s dark."
Jean-Paul nodded and the two men made their way back through the narrow stand of trees, following the tracks to find out where they joined the main coast road. As they approached the edge of the trees, Tony placed a hand on Jean-Paul’s arm and pulled him down into the undergrowth.
"What’s that?" He inclined his head towards a small building.
"It’s just a small hut that was used by the local gamekeeper some years ago. But it’s empty now."
“No, it isn't. Look."
A thin column of smoke was rising from the chimney.
"Who could be there?"
Jean-Paul shrugged. "I don't know."
"It could be the Germans."
Jean-Paul nodded. "We watch?"
“Yes Jean-Paul. We watch."
They were there for almost half an hour, the water from the trees dripping down on them, leaving them wet and uncomfortable. But their perseverance was rewarded when the door opened and two men came out swathed in cloaks. Each man carried a rifle. The field-grey of their trousers left the two watchers in no doubt about their identity. Germans. The two soldiers turned and spoke to someone else inside the hut, then closed the door and made their way down the muddy pathway, passing within feet of the hidden men. The Germans splashed through the deep ruts towards the cliff edge. Once they were out of sight, Tony and Jean-Paul retreated into the trees.
"There was someone else in the hut."
Tony nodded. "More sentries. At a guess I’d say that there are four of them. There should be two on guard at any time. This rain has probably driven them all inside the hut, and they’re only patrolling at intervals. Getting wet has probably been to our advantage after all."
"Do the sentries change your plans for tonight?"
“No, I must come back and check this out, but I’ll be all the more wary now I know where the sentries are. Now let's get back to the cotta
ge. I’d give anything to be warm and dry."
60
The rain stopped early in the evening, just as Tony and Jean-Paul were setting out to reconnoitre the cliff top. They wore dark clothes to make them as inconspicuous as possible, and carried ropes in case they were unable to use the cliff path because of the patrols. Jean-Paul, being more familiar with the lie of the land, led the way. Barely an hour after setting out they found themselves in the narrow band of trees, surveying the gamekeeper’s hut. A small beam of light escaped from a crack in the curtains. Tony smiled grimly.
"They’re careless. They don't seem to be expecting trouble. Look at that light. They aren't even afraid of air raids!"
Jean-Paul nodded. "These Germans are so full of themselves. And in my country too!" His voice, although merely a whisper, expressed all his pent up anger and hatred for the enemy. "Let's get to work, Albert."
Tony nodded. "Come on."
They made their way cautiously along the rutted track until they reached the edge of the trees. The tracks stretched ahead of them for some two hundred yards to the cliff edge, and Jean-Paul frowned.
"There’s no cover for us out there. What if we meet a German patrol?"
"It's a risk we have to take, Jean-Paul. Can you see any movement out there?"
The Frenchman shook his head.
"Right, let's go."
Tony led the way, crouched low to the ground and running as fast as he could, Jean-Paul was right behind him. Moments later, the relieved men found themselves at the edge of the cliff, still undetected. The tracks halted some three yards from the cliff edge. The ground around them was disturbed, as though a great many goods had been unloaded there. Tony made his cautious way towards the edge of the cliff and gazed over. The cliff path went down steeply, weaving back and forth but accessible to men on foot. It varied in width from three to five feet, plenty wide enough for supplies to be man-handled down, although that would be time consuming and a little dangerous. Tony let his eyes wander further. A large flat expanse of rock at the base of the cliff led to a dark shadow. A cave? But access to this from the sea looked almost impossible. The cliff walls curved round here, creating a small bay ending in a narrow cleft where the waves crashed along the sides even though the sea beyond was smooth and calm. Tony was uncertain. Could the U-boat captains actually negotiate such a passage? It seemed impossible to his untrained eye.
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