Georges nodded and started the car. Madeleine was kneeling in the back seat, gun trained along the hedge in the direction from which their friends would come.
"Any sign of them?"
“No, Albert.”
Tony lifted his gun. "I'm going back for them."
His face was grim as he alighted from the car. The people back there had grown to mean a great deal to him in the short time he had known them. He would not turn his back on them now.
"Wait as long as you can, Georges, but if we're not here soon, get away without us. We'll just have to make it back on foot."
Tony turned and began to run back towards the carnage on the road.
Jean-Paul was waiting for Charles and Alain as they approached.
"Come on, you two! There’s no firing from the other side of the road, so I think the others have already left! There are some Germans sheltering behind that truck," he indicated an undamaged truck which stood incongruously in the road, "so keep your heads down and run like hell!"
The three set off at a fast pace and the sound of firing fell silent. All that could be heard was the roar of flames and the cries of the wounded. The small group of Germans who had managed to survive the attack slowly crossed the road. When they were not fired upon, they climbed the bank to push their way through the hedge in time to see the three Frenchmen retreating round the bend. The Germans set off in pursuit and opened fire as the Frenchmen came into sight once more. Charles cried out and fell to his knees. Jean-Paul turned and began to fire on their pursuers.
"Help him up, Alain! I'll cover you!"
Alain pulled Charles to his feet. His face was pale but he managed to force a grin.
"Come on," he spoke through clenched teeth, "we mustn’t keep the others waiting."
With one arm around his old school friend’s shoulders and Alain’s arm around his waist, Charles made his way at a stumbling run in the direction of the lane and the hidden car. Behind them Jean-Paul was firing at the Germans, who had now taken refuge in a cornfield. He retreated slowly, step by steady step, face to the enemy, praying he would be able to hold the Germans back long enough for Charles and Alain to reach the car. The Germans were attempting to return his fire, but it was half-hearted, as though they were in a state of shock after the ambush. When another machine-gun opened up on his right they ceased firing altogether. Jean-Paul turned to see who it was and was greeted by Tony’s boyish grin.
"Come on, let's get going. The others should be back at the car by now."
The two men ran side by side to the waiting car, and jumped aboard. Jean-Paul and Tony squeezed into the front. The rear seat was taken up by a pale but still conscious Charles, Alain and Madeleine, who was still kneeling with her gun trained behind them.
"Let's go, Georges. I can hear a motorbike coming."
"That must be the one from the rear of the column." Charles' voice was strained. "I killed the rider, but someone else must be using it now."
Someone else was. A soldier had mounted the motorcycle, weaved his way unsteadily between the burning vehicles and was now roaring down the road towards them. Georges accelerated as fast as he could, but the car was overloaded and their pursuer steadily gained on them. Madeleine watched and waited until the bike was close enough to ensure that she would hit him first time. Then she fired. The front tyre of the motorbike exploded. Its rider threw his arms into the air as a crimson stain spread across his tunic. As the German fell from the motorbike which continued on its side until it was brought to a halt by a tree, Madeleine turned round and sat down.
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go home."
The huge doors of the barn had been left open in readiness, and Georges drove straight in. Even before the car had ceased to move, Jean-Paul and Tony leapt out and ran to close the doors behind them.
"Right." Tony’s mind was racing as he explained what was to happen next. "The car will remain hidden here, as will all weapons and munitions. If we’re caught with them we’re dead. Pile everything here,” he indicated a corner of the barn as he spoke, "then help me to cover it all with these bales of hay."
As the others leapt to do his bidding, Tony climbed back into the car.
"How are you, Charles?"
The young man smiled wanly. "It hurts like hell, but I think I’ll live.”
Tony helped him to remove the bloodstained shirt, and examined the wound.
"The bullet went in the back and came out the front. It seems to have passed between your ribs. Jean-Paul!" He called across to his friend as he continued to examine the wound. "Bring across the first aid kit we hid here earlier."
Jean-Paul was at his side moments later. "Is he going to be all right?"
"Yes, as long as he doesn't lose too much blood." Tony began to pad and bandage the wound. "We’ll have to take him back to your place, while the others make their way across country to the city. He'll never manage to walk that far."
Jean-Paul nodded. The other members of the group had finished concealing their weapons and come back to join the three in the car. Tony smiled reassuringly at them.
"You'll be glad to know that Charles is going to be all right." Smiles replaced their worried frowns as they gathered round. "You’ve all done extremely well. I'm proud of you. Now, get back home as quickly as you can by your pre-arranged routes. Try not to do anything to draw attention to yourselves. There will be Germans everywhere, but there is nothing to link you to what has happened. If you are stopped, bluff it out. Jean-Paul will be in touch when I want to arrange another meeting. Now get going, and good luck."
As Alain, Georges and Madeleine left the barn Tony and Jean-Paul helped Charles to his feet.
"Can you make it?"
Charles nodded and Tony led the way out. In the distance he could see the swastika flying above the roof of his grandmother’s home, and he grinned. The Germans would never dream of looking for a stolen car and illegal arms so close by. With a deep breath, he took one of Charles' arms and Jean-Paul took the other as they set off on the two mile walk back to the Boues' cottage.
It was a long and difficult walk, each step seemed to set Charles' chest on fire. His brow was beaded with sweat and an involuntary groan frequently escaped his tightly clenched, bloodless lips. They arrived at last, weary but in one piece and settled Charles in the cool barn. He lay back in relief, as waves of pain and nausea washed over him. Jean-Paul hurried off to make the necessary arrangements to get Charles home, while Tony talked quietly to his companion.
"Don't worry about anything, Charles." His voice was reassuring. “We won’t be able to get you to the hut where we hid Claude because all the roads in that area will be crawling with Germans after our attack, but we'll get you home all right. Dr. Leclerc will come in to see you as soon as possible, probably tomorrow. You should be all right until then." He examined the bandages he had put on earlier. Fresh blood was beginning to seep through, but rather than disturb the wound by redressing it, Tony merely wrapped another bandage tightly around the Frenchman’s torso.
"Sorry...to be so...much...trouble."
Tony grinned at the pale face.
"You’re no trouble, Charles. You’re a valued member of this group and I don’t know what I would do without you. We’re all in this together: and I’m only doing for you what you did for me.”
Charles smiled weakly. "You don’t know how...happy I am to...hear you...say that. At times I have thought you...didn’t want me in...the group."
"We all have our ups and downs and make mistakes, but that’s all in the past now, Charles." Tony smiled. "I can't imagine the group without you as a member."
The Frenchman nodded. "I’m glad because I enjoy working with you." He closed his eyes and leant back weakly as a wave of dizziness washed over him. "How do you plan to get me home? I don’t think I can walk far."
"You won’t have to." Jean-Paul entered the barn as he spoke. "You’ll be going in my pony and trap." He held out a hand and a diminutive figure joined him. "T
his is Theresa. She’ll drive you into Saint Nazaire. If you’re stopped, she’ll say that she picked you up on the road because you wanted a lift. She’s never seen you before."
"Is that safe?"
Jean-Paul shrugged at the question. "I think so. The Germans will hardly suspect a girl of her age of being involved in the ambush. Nor will they expect a member of the Resistance to come so openly back into the city. If you are stopped though, please try not to incriminate my daughter."
Charles' eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "I can’t believe that you’re willing to take such a risk for me. Believe me, Jean-Paul, I won’t let you down."
"It's nothing." Jean-Paul spoke gruffly to hide his emotions. "Now, get this clean shirt on and get moving. Theresa has to be back before curfew."
Theresa left the barn ahead of the three men, and was already seated in the trap when they came out. The pony, which Jean-Paul had only been allowed to keep because of its contribution to the farm work on the estate, tossed its head and pranced lightly on its feet, sending up a little cloud of dust.
"Come on, Monsieur Charles. The pony is in a hurry."
Charles grinned at the young girl as his two companions helped him up into the cart.
"Now make sure that you keep as still as possible,” Tony warned. "If you move too much you may start the bleeding again."
"Do not worry. I don’t intend to move!" Charles settled himself gingerly into the seat as he spoke. "If I do start bleeding, I’ll leave Theresa and hide up somewhere until dark. Once the Germans see a man in a blood-stained shirt, his companion wouldn’t stand a chance."
"But Monsieur Charles!"
"No buts." Jean-Paul’s face was severe as he spoke to his daughter. "You are to do whatever Charles tells you. What you are doing is very courageous but also very dangerous. I don’t want you to take any unnecessary risks. Understand?"
“Yes, Papa."
Jean-Paul smiled. "Good. Now be careful, Theresa, and hurry home."
"Thank you both for everything." Charles' pain-filled eyes perused his companions. "I owe you my life."
"Don’t mention it, that’s what friends are for. Now, get going." Jean-Paul slapped the pony lightly on the rump and it leapt forward at a brisk trot.
Theresa guided the pony along the country lanes towards Saint Nazaire, avoiding the main roads wherever possible. It was bright and sunny, even though the afternoon was drawing to close. Charles grimly held on to consciousness as the pain shot like a knife through his body. He was fearful and uncertain as to whether they would be able to enter Saint Nazaire unnoticed. He marvelled at the calm assurance of the girl by his side, and realised that the deep hatred of the enemy from one so young would shape the rest of her life.
At last, the trap reached the end of a narrow lane which joined the main road into Saint Nazaire, and Theresa drew the pony to a halt.
“Right, Monsieur Charles, we can no longer avoid the main road. It’s only half a mile into the city now. Are you ready?"
Charles gave a weary nod, the pain and loss of blood taking a toll on his strength.
"Yes. Let’s get it over with."
Theresa shook the reins and urged the pony out onto the hard surface of the road at a steady trot. They had covered barely half the distance to the outskirts of the city when the sound of roaring engines reached them, followed swiftly by the looming shapes of trucks racing along the road. Theresa reined in the pony and jumped down to hold his head as the huge trucks hurtled past, and he reared and neighed in alarm. There were five trucks, each filled with soldiers who spared not a glance for the trap and its passengers as they sped past. At last the final truck had gone by. Theresa patted and soothed the frightened pony. When he was calm, she climbed back up beside Charles.
"Where do you think they were going, Monsieur Charles?"
"Out to the site of our ambush I would think. They’ll flood the whole area with troops to try to find us." He smiled at the young girl beside him. "If it weren’t for you and your father and Albert, they would find me out in those fields."
Theresa grinned. "As it is they won’t find anyone, will they?"
She shook the reins and the pony broke into a trot, taking them in a matter of minutes to the outskirts of the city. Charles frowned as they approached.
"A road block. I’d better get down here."
Theresa shook her head. "No. They would notice and want to know why. Sit still please, Monsieur Charles."
As Theresa continued towards the road block, Charles had little choice but to sit still. His palms were sweaty and he wiped them surreptitiously down the sides of his trousers. The trap drew to a halt beside the sentry and the young German perused them.
"Where have you come from?"
"The estate where my father is working."
"Let me see your papers."
Charles and Theresa handed down their papers to the sentry who perused them carefully.
"Where are you going?"
"I have to get some flour and sugar for the family. Mama sent me shopping. I’m a big girl now so she trusts me. I want to see my friends as well while I’m here. Have I got time before curfew?"
The soldier shrugged. "I suppose so, if you hurry." He handed back the papers as he spoke. "Have you come all the way down the main road?"
"No, down the lanes. It’s really pretty with all the flowers and trees. I saw a rabbit and some sheep. Do you like rabbits? I had a pet one before the war."
As Theresa continued to chatter a car drew up behind the trap. The soldier, fed up with the noisy child and not at all suspicious of someone who was willing to sit and talk for so long, waved them on.
"Get moving. I have work to do."
Theresa urged the pony on. As it pulled away, Charles glanced over his shoulder to see the guard approaching the car and taking the papers of its occupants. He shook his head in disbelief.
"I don’t believe it, Theresa. You seem more calm and relaxed than me. How do you do it?"
Theresa shrugged. "I suppose I enjoy playing games where I pretend with my sister."
Charles nodded thoughtfully. Maybe it was so. Children lived in a world of make-believe, to them it was all a game, not a lie to the enemy. He did not doubt that Theresa realised the seriousness of their position, yet she was able to detach herself in a way that he found impossible.
Theresa glanced across at her companion and frowned. "You’re looking pale, Monsieur Charles. Are you all right?"
Charles shook his head slightly. He could feel a warm wetness spreading on his back. His wound was burning and he felt faint.
"I think the bleeding has started again,” he whispered.
Theresa glanced at the steadily spreading bloodstain on his back then reached behind her into the trap. She found an old jacket of her father’s, which she placed over Charles' shoulders.
"Hang on, Monsieur Charles. We’re nearly there."
She drove steadily on, a worried frown creasing her brow as Charles slumped in the seat beside her. But her father’s directions had been accurate. Within ten minutes she was drawing to a halt outside Charles' house. She climbed down and tied the pony’s lead rein to a lamppost. Charles held out a hand to her.
"Here’s the key. Open the door."
Theresa took the key and opened the door, before helping the wounded man down from the trap. He leant his hand heavily on her shoulder as they made their way across the pavement, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Once inside, Theresa closed the door and helped Charles to a seat. Removing the jacket from his shoulders, she blanched at the sight of the red patch spreading over his back.
"Sit still, Monsieur Charles. I’ll re-bandage this for you."
Theresa hurried upstairs and rummaged around, but could find no first aid kit. Eventually she settled on an old clean sheet which she brought downstairs. With a pair of scissors from the kitchen she cut it into three long bandages, and folded the remainder into two thick pads. After boiling some water and setting it ready in a bow
l, she carefully helped Charles out of his shirt. He winced in pain but said nothing. With gentle care, the young girl unwound the bandages and removed the bloodstained dressings. With a cloth dipped in the warm water, she carefully washed both wounds, front and back, and watched as they began to bleed once more. Pressing one of the pads to each wound she managed to smile weakly, though her stomach churned at what she had seen and done.
"It’s not bleeding too fast, Monsieur Charles. If I bandage it tightly it should stop. But you mustn’t move around." She began to wind the bandages around his torso as she spoke. "I’ll help you upstairs to bed before I leave."
At last the bandage was tied and Theresa helped the wounded man up the stairs and into his bed. As she smoothed the blankets, Charles smiled weakly.
"You would make an excellent nurse, Theresa."
The young girl smiled shyly at the handsome man in the bed, one of her heroes from the Resistance, and she felt a blush darken her cheeks.
"You never know, Monsieur Charles. I may become one when the war is over."
Theresa turned and left the room, her mind and body stirred by emotions which she had never felt before. Down in the kitchen, she placed the bloodied bandages and cloth in the fire and watched them burn, while all the time her thoughts were on the man upstairs. She smiled and her heart beat faster; she wondered if she was falling in love. She was too young to understand the feelings which engulfed her. She did not realise that it was a combination of excitement in the face of danger, hero worship of a man wounded in the defence of his country, the feeling of having someone totally dependent on her, all mixed with a genuine attraction towards the older man, which had set her in such a spin. All she knew was that she wished she were ten years older, and that Charles would see her as a young woman instead of a little girl.
With a sigh, Theresa busied herself about the kitchen. She could do nothing about her age, but perhaps she could make Charles see how indispensable she was so that he was willing to wait for her to grow up. In no time at all she had a tray made up for him, with a bowl of hot soup and a piece of bread, a cup of hot coffee, a glass and jug of water and two apples. With a skip in her step she made her way up the stairs once more. Her heart missed a beat as she entered the bedroom and saw the pale face on the pillows. With a forced smile, she put down the tray and helped Charles to sit up.
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