"It must have been hard for you."
"She hasn’t talked about it, but Marie and I know what she feels and try to be understanding. It is hard though. She has constantly asked to come out on ambush with me, but I think she is too young. Besides, I love her too much." Jean-Paul sighed. "If only I could find a job to satisfy her thirst for revenge, while keeping her relatively safe."
Tony nodded. "A difficult task. I'll see what I can do, but I promise that I won't ask her to do anything that will put her in too much danger, and of course, I’ll discuss it with you before asking her to do anything at all. But you must both come to terms with facts. She is growing up fast, too fast perhaps because of this war, and she must be allowed more freedom to choose her own way. Just guide her with love and you won't go far wrong."
Marie smiled and covered his hand with hers.
"Wise words, Albert, surprisingly wise for one your age. You’ve obviously given a great deal of thought to the subject of parents and children."
Tony thought of the endless hours he had spent pondering the problems in his relationship with his father but said nothing. He turned to his hosts.
"You’ve both been so kind to me. I want you to know that I’ll do my best to make sure that neither of your daughters is endangered because of what I ask them to do."
Jean-Paul nodded. "We can’t ask for more. Now drink your coffee before it gets cold!"
140
Tony spent his first week back in France reconnoitring the land. During the day, he and Jean-Paul spent hours poring over maps, trying to identify targets. At night they moved silently around the countryside, getting a closer look at the places they intended to sabotage. By the end of the week, Tony had a list of places he felt must be disrupted. He intended to start with the ones which would take the longest to repair. He did not know exactly when the invasion would come, but there was no point blowing things up now which might be repaired before the landings. At the top of his list were the two bridges, which carried the railway from the south into the Saint Nazaire area. If they could be destroyed, it would make it difficult for the Germans to move troops up to the area of the landings. Road bridges, too, were high on his list of priorities, as were the rail tunnel, and the bridges on some of the minor roads. That would cause disruption to the vehicles detoured from the main routes which should have been blocked by earlier attacks. Finally, as the day of the invasion approached, the group would attack as many of the railway points as they could, and the telephone exchange. If they took their time and did not try to do too much damage on each sortie, they should get away with it. He was already working on his plans for the attack on the docks, the culmination of his work in preparation for D-Day. He knew that was where the real danger to himself and his friends lay.
Careful plans were laid. Jean-Paul conveyed instructions and arms to the other members of the group and, on the last day of April, the attacks were launched on the two railway bridges. Jean-Paul, together with Georges and Madeleine, took the bridge just south of Dognes, while Vincent joined Tony in his attack on the bridge to the west. Everything went like clockwork. The bridges were not heavily guarded. It took only a little time and patience for the saboteurs to place their charges of plastic at the points indicated by Tony, set the pencil fuses and retreat to their homes. They were all back in their warm beds when the bridges were blown at 6.30 a.m. on the morning of May 1st. Tony’s bridge was totally destroyed, and although Jean-Paul’s had part of its frame intact, it was completely unsafe. There was no way that the Germans would be able to move trains over it for months to come. Although Tony was unable to go back and check the bridges carefully for himself, he was satisfied as to the success of the mission by observing, from a distance, the reaction of the Germans. Patrols were increased and searches made, but the occupying forces had nothing to work on. Tony knew that his group was safe, although the increased security would make subsequent attacks more difficult.
That evening Jean-Paul and Tony sat in the barn with the radio playing softly, awaiting the BBC messages. Jean-Paul smiled at his companion.
"The attack went well."
Tony nodded and lay back in the hay. "Yes, but the others won't be quite so easy. There’ll be additional guards at vital points. I'm sure the Germans are as aware of the coming invasion as we are. They will rightly assume that our attacks, and the other ones all over France, are all part of the general build up." He picked up a wisp of hay and began to chew it thoughtfully. "We'll have to space the attacks about a week apart, and make sure we get in and out fast."
"Shhh. Here come the messages."
Tony sat up and leant eagerly towards the radio. He was not expecting the invasion to come yet, but it paid to be alert. He listened carefully, and his concentration was rewarded with the second message.
"Les sanglots longs des violins d'automne."
In a daze Tony leant across and switched off the radio.
“Albert? Was that it?"
Tony nodded slowly, unable to believe that he had just heard the message heralding the invasion. Then his face broke into a broad grin.
"Yes! The invasion will come this month!" He was thoughtful for a moment, then continued. "We have to listen each evening for the next message. That will give us forty-eight hours warning. If we have to be ready sometime this month, we’d better move the next attack forward. We'll hit the bridge on the Nantes - Vannes road in three days time. By then I should have finished finalising my plans for the attack on the docks and will be able to let everyone know what their job will be."
Jean-Paul hid the radio in a small secret compartment in the barn wall. He was grinning broadly.
"I can’t believe it’s really happening! The invasion! Soon we’ll be free at last!"
The two men left the building happily together, unaware of the confusion which raged in S.O.E. Headquarters after hearing the first line of the Chanson d'automne broadcast by the BBC.
141
On 2nd May, Angeline listened in to her radio at 10 p.m. as usual. She had received very few messages from Britain. Her main task was to send information back, but this evening was one of the exceptions. Right on time the steady tap, tap tapping of Morse code filled her headphones. She wrote down the list of letters quickly, sent the received signal and hid her radio, before settling down to decode the message. It did not take long. When she finished she frowned in puzzlement at the words. They meant nothing to her.
'Urgent. Albert. Disregard Chanson d'automne. Not May.'
With a shrug she hid the message safely away. It was bound to mean something to Tony, and that was all that mattered.
Angeline slept well that night. Immediately curfew was over, she set off to deliver the message. She left it in the same post-box as before, knowing that Tony would check the log before the day was over.
That afternoon, Tony walked along the track as usual and was surprised to see a handkerchief caught in the hedge. He had not expected a message from London. His features creased in a worried frown as he made his way down the track to the hollow log. A brief check told him that he was unobserved, and he quickly retrieved the message from the north end of the log. Slipping it into his pocket, he made his way back to the farm. He was eager to read what London had to say, yet to read it in the open would be to court disaster.
Back at the cottage he went into the empty kitchen and took the message from his pocket. He scanned it quickly, and was not sure that he understood it, so he read it again. The meaning was abundantly clear. Someone, somewhere had made a mistake and now, all over France Resistance groups were preparing for an imminent invasion which would not arrive.
Tony screwed up the paper and threw it into the fire. He was angry that his expectations had been built up, his plans changed, risks taken, all for nothing. He watched the paper shrivel and blacken as the fire took hold and consumed it.
"Damned BBC."
"Is anything wrong?" Tony whirled round in surprise, his heart beating wildly, then he smiled sheepishly a
t Jean-Paul.
"You gave me a fright."
“Sorry, Albert. Is anything wrong?"
Tony sighed. "Yes Jean-Paul, I'm afraid so. It's nothing bad,” he hurried on as he saw the Frenchman’s worried frown, “it's just that someone in London made a stupid mistake. The message put out by the BBC two days ago should not have come."
"So there will be no invasion?" Jean-Paul looked crestfallen, and Tony smiled comfortingly.
"Oh yes, it will come. It's just not going to happen this month, that's all."
Jean-Paul nodded. "At least it gives us a little more time to disrupt the Germans. That reminds me, do we still go ahead with tomorrow’s attack?"
Tony nodded. "Yes, it is well planned and the others are ready to go. It might be dangerous to call it off now." He smiled. "Don't let the false message get you down. The invasion will come."
"I know." Jean-Paul was pensive. "But if they can mess up sending a simple message by radio, what other mistakes will be made, with even more lives at risk? Another stupid mistake like that could be costly. We might never know about it until too late."
Tony’s smile did not waver. "You could be right, but I doubt it. A lot of time and effort has gone into organising this. It will go without a hitch. Just wait and see."
The group met at some distance from the Nantes - Vannes road. There were some crestfallen faces when Tony explained that the Allied landings would not be coming for at least another month.
"Don't worry,” he concluded, "the landings will come this year. Having at least one more month gives us more time to disrupt the Germans. Tonight’s little outing will be to destroy the bridge on the main Nantes - Vannes road, or at least damage it so much that no heavy trucks or tanks will be able to use it. There is also a stretch of road about two miles further north, where it runs close against a steep hillside. If we plant charges there too, we can cause a landslide to block the road as well." He turned to Jean-Paul. "I want you, Georges and Madeleine to take that one, and meet back here in three hours’ time. Vincent and I will take the bridge. Set your pencil fuses for a six hour delay. The further we are from here when they go off, the better."
The others shouldered their packs.
"Good luck, Albert. Keep your head down."
Tony smiled. "You too, Jean-Paul. Now get moving."
Vincent and Tony watched the small group of people disappear into the night. Then Tony led the way towards the road bridge.
"How’s Angeline?"
Vincent smiled. "She’s fine. She works hard and no-one suspects her true identity. She has also improved my life considerably."
Tony raised his eyebrow questioningly and Vincent chuckled.
"Not like that. Having Angeline around is like having a daughter in the house. I feel my life has a purpose again, now that I have a surrogate family. I would do anything to help her in her work."
Tony inclined his head towards a black shadow which loomed ahead of them. "Right. There's the bridge. Let's see how far you’re prepared to go."
The two men approached the bridge slowly and silently. The huge brick pillars reared above them, supporting the road where it spanned the wide ravine. The sound of footsteps came from above. Tony listened as they crossed and re-crossed the bridge. A guard. He frowned. That made things more difficult. Motioning Vincent to hide and wait, Tony silently shrugged off his backpack and began to make his careful way up the steep sides of the ravine. It was slow, painful progress as he tried not to attract the guard’s attention to himself. At one point his foot slipped. He waited in silence, heart beating rapidly, as a small shower of stones slithered down the ravine. The guard halted his pacing and peered over the parapet for a few moments, but could see nothing moving. With a shrug he turned away from the ravine and recommenced his measured pacing. With a silent sigh of relief Tony continued his ascent. For a moment he had imagined himself back in the SS cells. . He felt as though a black cloud had engulfed his very soul. A fear which he had not felt for months washed over him. He would do anything to make sure that he was never in such a situation again. He continued to climb silently until he was crouched behind the parapet of the bridge where he slipped his knife with its razor sharp blade from its sheath and waited.
The guard’s measured tread was approaching, and Tony crouched, ready to pounce. He heard the footsteps draw level with his position and then move past. That was his cue. He straightened and leapt over the wall with one practised movement. His arm was around the guard’s throat and he guided the blade of the knife between the ribs and into the heart before the German knew what was happening. Tony felt the body go limp, and the soldier’s rifle clattered to the ground. He dragged the dead weight to the end of the bridge and into some nearby bushes. The body rolled over, and he saw the German’s face for the first time. He froze in shock. The fresh face hardly showed any stubble; the eyes wide in fear were frozen in death, a boy’s features, a boy who should still be at school, not dying for his country. Tony felt tears spring to his eyes. The boy could not have been more than sixteen years old. He had not stood a chance against Tony, with all his sophisticated training. Then Tony’s features hardened. He had a job to do. No matter what his age, the German soldier was his enemy. He turned and went back out onto the bridge to retrieve the rifle. Then he slid back down into the ravine to re-join Vincent.
"Is everything all right?"
Tony nodded. "The guard is dead. We go ahead as planned, but use shorter fuses. If they plan to change the guard before the bridge goes up and can't find him, they'll get suspicious. They might find the charges."
Vincent took the first charge from his pack and handed it to Tony.
"Let's get moving, then."
Tony began to place the charges around the base of the supporting piers, setting the timers as he went. It helped him keep his mind from the image of the boy lying dead at the head of the ravine. Soon all the charges were set. The two men made their way back to the rendezvous point, where Jean-Paul and the others were already waiting.
"Did everything go all right?"
Jean-Paul nodded. "No problems at all. When that hillside comes down, it will totally block the road. It will take them weeks to clear and repair it."
"Good."
"What about you, Albert?"
"Just a slight problem. The bridge was guarded, but I took care of him. I shortened the fuses though. We have just under two hours before they go off. We’d better get out of here."
Tony led the way back to the empty barn where they had hidden the car, and they were soon on their way back to Saint Nazaire.
Long before dawn the ground shook with the force of the explosion at the bridge. But by then, the Resistance group were all safely back home and unable to see the evidence of another mission successfully accomplished.
142
May was half over when Tony and Jean-Paul set out to destroy the railway tunnel to the west of the city. It was a cool night for the time of year. They were well wrapped in warm, dark clothing, their faces blackened, packs of explosives on their backs and Sten guns in their hands. As they moved silently along, parallel to the tracks, Tony smiled. With the rail and road bridges down, the destruction of the tunnel would cause havoc in the German transport system and he was proud of the part he was playing in the preparations for D-Day. They were approaching the tunnel when Tony saw a siding branching off to the left. He stopped to stare at the deeper shadow of the trucks which occupied it. His indrawn breath hissed through his teeth. Jean-Paul laid a questioning hand on his shoulder.
"What is it?"
Tony inclined his head towards the train. "Tanks."
Jean-Paul looked more closely. He too could see the huge bulk of the war machines with the long muzzles of their guns held low for ease of transportation. He could not see the full length of the train, but he estimated there must be twenty trucks, each with their heavy load of a single Panzer. The thought of all the destruction they could unleash on any invading force filled him with fear. He turned
to the Englishman at his side.
"What do we do about them?"
"Nothing tonight. But I have an idea how to put them out of action. I'll tell you all about it later. Meanwhile let's concentrate on the tunnel."
The two men moved silently on the grass which edged the stone chippings close to the rails. Soon the black maw of the tunnel revealed itself as a deeper patch of darkness in the night, and Tony led them in until total blackness engulfed them. The two men felt their way carefully along the wall, until the curve of the tunnel hid them from the entrance. Tony took out his pencil torch, and shone it into the blackness ahead of them.
"We'll lay charges in four places. There's no way they'll be able to clear up all that mess." He led the way deeper inside. When they were almost a hundred yards from the tunnel entrance he stopped, removed his pack and knelt down beside it on the sharp stones of the tunnel floor. Quickly removing the first package of plastic explosive he began to fix it to the tunnel wall.
"You take the other side."
Jean-Paul crossed the tracks to place a similar charge on the opposite wall. Soon all was ready, timers inserted, and they began to make their way back towards the entrance. After twenty yards, Tony stopped.
"Let's put the next ones here."
The two men worked as an efficient team. Both knew what to do, and could get on with it swiftly and silently. Within three minutes the charges were laid and the saboteurs were about to move on when they felt a strange vibration in the tunnel. A train.
"Find an alcove! Quick!" Tony yelled as he ran along the tunnel, searching its surface for one of the recesses put there to offer safety to rail workers who found themselves in the tunnel with a train approaching. The sound of the approaching train grew louder, and Tony was relieved to see the black opening of a recess in the narrow beam of light from his torch.
Heronfield Page 70