It seems to be a long way to the train tracks where Panther has sent them for their mission.
“We could walk faster than this.” Marguerite shoves a bicycle over to make more room in the cart just as the horse wheezes loudly and stumbles forward. The man pulls the reins, and they come to a sudden halt. He jumps out and pats Le Roi’s rump, murmuring words of encouragement in the horse’s ear. “You can do this, Le Roi. We’ll both rest later. Let’s get them on their way.”
Just as the horse vigorously shakes its head and neighs in despair, they hear a truck whining behind them. “That’s German,” the farmer snaps. “Get out—go ahead on your bikes. We can’t be seen together.”
The girls jump off the cart and pull out the bikes as the truck gets louder. They’re able to round a bend on the thin road and stop behind a row of pines, just as the truck screeches and is suddenly silent.
“Go!” Collette mouths to Marguerite, and they pedal the bikes as hard as they can on the uneven road, frantically looking for a better place to hide. They can hear yelling in German, a shout from the farmer, then a high-pitched whinny.
A shot is fired, and Le Roi sounds like he’s screaming. Germans are shouting all at once. The girls frantically pump, making little progress as the bicycle wheels catch in the ruts and slide in the dirt. Collette can feel her heart racing, and she can’t seem to control her legs. Her face is covered in sweat, and she can hear Marguerite gasping behind her.
As the road begins to climb, she jumps off her bike and drags it behind a pile of giant limestone boulders. Marguerite joins her, and they duck down, shaking. Their eyes lock in fear until Marguerite looks away. “We’ll be fine,” Collette insists as she pulls the bicycles in closer, to make sure they can’t be seen from the road. They huddle close, pressed against the back of the rocks.
The truck starts up, and the rumble of the engine gets louder as it approaches their hiding place, roars past them, and charges up the hill. Collette catches a glimpse of German soldiers hanging off the sides. Dust scatters as the truck disappears.
“I’ll go back,” Collette says, peering around the rocks. “Stay here.” She’s gone before Marguerite can object.
The horse is in the middle of the road, lying on its side, as if sleeping. The farmer is sitting on the ground, leaning against the emaciated horse. “I wouldn’t let them have him. They were not going to take Le Roi,” he repeats angrily without looking at Collette.
She steps closer to the horse and is relieved to see he’s panting, and there’s no sign of blood. As if to reassure her, he snorts and tries to lift his head.
She squats down to inspect the farmer. “Are you hurt?” He shakes his head. “Stupid German, he tried to shoot me because I wouldn’t let him have this poor, tired horse.” He pats Le Roi’s sweaty neck. “But Le Roi reared up when that German aimed at me, and the gun went off in the sky.” He points up at the cornflower blue sky with wispy white clouds, then drops his hand and strokes the horse’s side. “He was protecting me. I didn’t know he had it in him.”
Marguerite appears and leans over Le Roi. “You saved him,” she says to the horse, and pats his nose. Le Roi stares up at Marguerite, his eyes bloodshot and wide with fear. He gives a feeble kick with his back legs. One rubber-coated horseshoe, replacing iron shoes no longer available, dangles loosely from a hind foot.
“And they let you go?”
“They’re in a hurry. They know their time in France is ending.” The farmer struggles to stand up, and Collette reaches for his hand. “Go,” he says firmly, giving her a slight push. “We’ll be fine.” He stands as Le Roi jerks in an attempt to rise. “Maybe those Germans will be on that train. Get it done.”
He rattles off directions, describing an abandoned hut where they’ll be able to hide their bicycles and see the train tracks. They don’t have to hurry; they’re close. Their mission must be done at dusk, right when a loaded German supply train will be roaring toward them.
Still unsteady, the girls walk their bicycles for a while before they feel they can ride again, dodging large stones in the dirt road. Without rubber available for extra bicycle tires, a flat tire would be disastrous. But soon they see the dilapidated hut by the side of the road, its door hanging loose, the crossbar dangling. “We’re here.” Collette removes the fishing pole from her bicycle and props the pole against the side of the hut. She rolls her bicycle inside, leaving room in the cramped space for Marguerite’s. They lean both their bicycles against the rickety walls and slump to the ground. The dark hut is shaded by tall plane trees that protect them from the hot sun, but the hut is still warm and musty. Marguerite takes a canteen from her bicycle basket and shares it with Collette.
“It’s not much longer, but I don’t think we should wait here. If another truck goes by, we’ll be trapped. Leave the bikes.” Collette passes back the canteen, carefully opens the door to the hut and peers out to check the road. She dashes into the surrounding woods, Marguerite at her heels. They clear out a cool, mossy spot under low juniper trees to wait until dusk when the train is due so they won’t be seen as easily.
Collette plucks wild rosemary and rubs it between her fingers, smelling it. A rush of hunger for her mama’s long forgotten roast lamb helps her forget the night’s mission for a moment.
Panther had described their task as “quick and simple,” but they both know they’re an important link in a chain of Resistance missions. Tonight, the Resistance fighters will guide a British plane so that spies can parachute into a field nearby. “The British will stay in France to gather intelligence on the ground,” Panther explained to both of them. “It looks like soon there will be an attack on the Germans from the south, and we need to help.”
Collette had overheard conversations in her father’s shop about an invasion from the north that would destroy the Germans and finally force them out of her country. The stories had given the townspeople hope and motivated Noah’s Ark to step up their secret resistance.
But Collette had heard nothing about an attack from the south.
Panther continued to describe how the British paratroopers were going to bring gas and radios, more guns, and better maps. Members of Noah’s Ark were prepared to turn on flashlights to guide the men floating down onto the field.
“Your mission is to create a distraction to take attention away from the landing field.” He spoke urgently to Skylark and Wallcreeper, his voice rising. “Liberation is near!”
Hélène interrupted, her voice steady and calm. “You’re going to crash a train.”
Marguerite reached for Collette’s hand and squeezed tightly.
“But not with explosives,” Hélène continued. “The American Army has figured out a way to derail a train without blowing up the tracks.”
Panther grunted. “You’re removing pieces of the track. That’s all. The pieces are already cut. You just have to pull them out.”
“Just slide them out,” Hélène added. “At the right time.”
“When the train comes?” Marguerite asked. Her voice sounded unusually high-pitched. “We’ll be on the tracks?”
Collette could picture it. “Before the train approaches, we’ll slide out pieces of track and disappear. By the time the train derails, we’ll be gone, right?”
“You’ll be gone,” Panther said, sounding pleased that Collette was following. “And while the plane is dropping British spies two miles away, the Germans will be busy pulling soldiers out of the train wreck and scrambling to clean up a mess.”
Collette and Marguerite understood what they had to do.
And now they had to get it done.
Chapter 28
Thunderclaps
Avignon, near Brume
Late Summer 1944
Collette and Marguerite crawl in the gravel and dirt along the side of the railroad track until they reach the spot that has been marked with a small pyramid of pebbles. This is where the rails had been cut.
Collette scrambles across the track to the othe
r side. It may be getting dark, but they both lie flat to make sure that the locomotive engineer won’t see them. Collette presses her chin to the rough ground and thinks about the warning that Hélène gave the girls before they left for the mission. “Be very careful. Don’t get caught. Every day another Resistance fighter is killed or sent away.”
“I know that,” Marguerite had responded impatiently. “I’ve heard the German officers and Milice talking in my home. They brag about torturing and killing anyone who gives them trouble. Anyone they don’t like.”
Hélène hushed her. “Don’t talk about that. Not even to me. You put everyone in danger if you reveal anything at all.” Her piercing eyes bore into Marguerite. “Remember that we are the people of the underground. You must be sure you want to do this.”
As Collette stretches along the side of the tracks, she can feel determination strengthen her body. She will not quit until every German is gone from France. Her brother started the fight, and she will finish it.
She can’t see Marguerite’s face on the other side of the tracks, but she knows that Marguerite’s just as determined. Collette can count on her. As soon as Collette signals, they will complete their task, dash back to the hut where their bicycles are hidden, and follow the dirt roads through the countryside, back to Brume. It will be a long way back to Panther, but they must only report that the mission was a success. They can’t fail.
She studies the rail next to her and spots the cuts that have been made, marking off a piece of iron almost two meters long. The cuts are barely visible. It must have taken a long time to get through the solid rail. The bolts connecting the rail to the cross ties have already been removed by someone from Noah’s Ark.
The other rail will have cuts, too, a little farther up from Marguerite. Panther explained that the cuts in the tracks were staggered, as that would better trip up the wheels of the train. But since the Germans send scouts to check the tracks for explosives, the rails have to be lifted out at the last minute.
Collette starts to tell Marguerite to crawl forward and look for slices in the other rail, when Marguerite raises her head slightly. “I see the train,” she shouts, “but there’s no whistle!”
Collette doesn’t hesitate. “Now! Hurry!” She grabs the cut piece of rail with both hands, but it’s thick and much too heavy to lift. How is she ever going to pull it out?
“Marguerite! Help me!” She pulls on the piece with both hands and can feel it vibrating from the approaching train that is still miles away. Her hands barely fit around the rail. She tries to get a strong grip and pull hard, but the piece won’t budge.
Marguerite is quickly at her side and they pull together. The piece of rail wobbles, but rests heavily on the railroad ties and can’t be lifted. Collette desperately digs with her hands between the ties and tries again. No movement.
She tries pushing forward to see if she can dislodge it, while Marguerite searches the ground for something to use as leverage. While Collette pushes, throwing her entire body into it, Marguerite grabs a flat rock and jams the rock into the dirt, working to lift up the rail. The rail gives a little, just as the train whistle blows. They both glance up to see in the distance the train moving over the top of a hill, in their direction. The headlamp on the front casts a wide arc over the tracks. The engineer, hanging on to a bar on the side of the locomotive, leans out, shades his eyes, and peers down the tracks.
“Can’t we just slide it over instead of lifting it out?” Collette pushes on the side of one end and the rail moves another inch. Marguerite drops the rock and pushes with her so that the piece begins to slide at a wide angle and is finally free from the main track.
“Grab the end and slide it out!” Marguerite yells.
Panther had demonstrated lifting the rail as if it were made out of straw. But the rail is at least six inches thick and solid iron. Together they stand, grab the end of the long piece, and pull hard, using any strength they have left. The piece slides slowly away, leaving a gap in the rail. The rhythmic pounding of the train can now be heard, and the whistle blows again, continuously.
“That’s good enough!” Collette pushes Marguerite toward the other side of the track.
“We’re halfway there!” Marguerite can barely be heard as she crawls over the tracks, Collette right behind her.
The second piece of rail is half the size of the first, and about three feet up the track. Although shorter, it’s tougher to remove. They pull and push together as the screaming train rapidly approaches. But the rail doesn’t move.
Collette spots one bolt that has been loosened, but not removed. She grabs the nut, gives one more twist, and yanks the bolt out of the tie. The clatter of the oncoming train is deafening. Together, they pull hard and slide the piece of rail away as the train continues to bear down on them. Collette, aware that they are visible, glances up to see the engineer in the front of the locomotive peering out into the night. Can he see them? He makes no attempt to slow down.
As the train barrels toward them, the girls roll away from the track and tumble on top of each other. They scramble to get up and run fast toward the protection of the trees, just as the locomotive and first three boxcars fly by, speeding along easily over the broken track.
But the fourth car wobbles, and the fifth car shakes even more. The sixth car starts to drift and suddenly topples and plunges off the track, twisting in a heap, pulling the remaining cars with it. On both sides of the track, the cars roll, smashing into each other as they skid onto the fields. The brakes shriek as the engineer tries to control the engine and the attached cars that made it over the dismantled rails.
Dirt and rocks fly around Collette and Marguerite as they race away from the crash, away from train cars that slide behind them on the dirt. They keep running, heat blowing at their backs, sudden booms and long, high screeches filling the air. It’s hard to tell how close they are to the tumbling cars, and they don’t dare look back.
Collette wants to leap out of her heavy boots and leave them behind, but the broken train is at their heels and she needs to move fast. She focuses on Marguerite’s pale shirt ahead of her. She feels a thrill of pride as the outline of the trees appears, and she can still hear the train cars smash into one another like thunderclaps, tossing crates, heavy boxes, and metal barrels in all directions. Quick blasts explode, filling the air with thick black smoke and chunks of splintered wood.
Suddenly Collette feels a sharp pain, as if she’s been stabbed by a hot poker in her thigh. She rolls onto the ground clutching her leg and slams into the side of a metal box that has tumbled far from the tracks and broken open. Guns and ammunition have spilled on the ground. She lies disoriented in the dirt, staring in shock at a Nazi swastika painted on the side of the box.
The train cars nearby have stopped rolling, but the wheels are still spinning and squealing. Men are shouting in German amid loud popping sounds. Flames flicker along the tracks. Cargo is scattered everywhere.
Collette can’t see Marguerite. I’ve got to get away, she thinks as she presses her hand on the box and pushes to help herself up. A sharp pain shoots up her leg, and she groans in surprise and falls back to the ground. She can see that her pants are torn and burned. She carefully pulls the cloth away to reveal a ripped cut on her thigh, globs of blood congealing in the cut and lines of red running down her leg. Her eyes blur as she registers the pain, and she realizes that she’s in terrible danger. She has to be able to walk. She has to find Marguerite.
Two German soldiers run by, yelling orders. Collette manages to roll over and press against the box, but it’s hard to figure out where she is. Can she possibly get out of there if she can stand and run?
“Collette!”
Is that Marguerite? Collette whips her head around but can’t see her.
“Collette. Over here.” Collette can hardly see in the dark and the smoke. There, peeking around an overturned railroad car is a girl with baggy clothes and a crooked beret. Marguerite.
Collette po
ints to where the soldiers went. Marguerite stands on her toes and looks around, then sneaks over to Collette. In an instant, she pulls off her cotton shirt and wraps it around Collette’s leg. Her loose gray undershirt is covered in soot and sweat. “Can you walk if I help you?”
“Was ist das?” A German soldier looms over them and kicks Marguerite’s leg with his high leather boot. As he continues to shout, he grabs Marguerite’s chin and glares into eyes that are wide with fright. She jerks her head away and slides closer to Collette. He squats down, unwraps the shirt around Collette’s leg, studies the wound, and uses the shirtsleeves to tie a makeshift bandage over the cut. Collette winces as he roughly tightens the cloth, and she shudders in dread as he leans so close she can smell cigarettes on his breath. She can’t help the tears as her leg throbs.
Steam and sooty smoke are still rising from the rubble. The noise from the crash has quieted down so that the voices of running, shouting soldiers can be clearly heard.
“Steh en sie auf!” the man orders, gesturing for them to stand. He grabs the back of their shirts and lifts the girls up. Collette leans on the metal box trying not to cry out, and Marguerite wraps her arm around Collette’s waist. They exchange a look of dismay as they take in the pileup of train cars and German war supplies strewn along the tracks and into the fields. They hadn’t expected to see the damage they’d done. They thought they would be on their bicycles by now. Collette wants to shout, “We did that!”
“Was machen sie denn hier?” the soldier asks harshly as he pushes them toward a tipped boxcar that’s lying on its side. Every step sends a sharp pain up Collette’s leg, but Marguerite holds tight.
He shoves them roughly into the boxcar and slides the heavy door shut, leaving them alone in the pitch-dark. Collette waits to hear the clang of the lock, but there’s just the distant sound of yelling soldiers.
“We have to get out of here before he comes back!” Marguerite tugs on the metal door handle. “They’ll never think we could have crashed their train, but they’re going to want to know why we were so close to the tracks—if they don’t shoot us first.” She grabs the handle with both hands and shifts her weight, and the wide door opens slightly, revealing shadows of train cars in pale moonlight. “Do you think you can walk if you lean on me?”
Skylark and Wallcreeper Page 19