A/N (1): Chapter 7 finally up! I won't bother with a summary as it's late and I'm tired.
The disclaimers have already been covered, so no need to repeat them – again.
Enjoy the chapter!
January 29th 1944, the Castle
Following their return from Ft. Benning, Chuck and Sarah went back to the easy routine they had established early in their cohabitation. Every morning Chuck would go to her room and wake her up, she had asked him to, in order to spare her alarm clock from a horrible fate at her hands. They would go to breakfast together after roll call. They would do a lot of things together during the training sessions. She loved spending time with him and Devon and Morgan, but she preferred it when she was alone with him. She had finally realized that she now had something she'd been missing for a long time: a friend. Someone who would be there for her selflessly, just as she would be there for him. And that friend had led to her making more friends. She liked that and would make the most of it.
Just like the morning after their unforgettable evening in town, Chuck entered her room to wake her up as usual. He smiled as he always did when he saw her. She was sleeping peacefully, like an angel, a halo of flowing blond hair framing her face. He knelt by the bed and gently shook her awake. She opened her eyes and smiled. Her bright smile was by itself something that could make him breeze through even the hardest day. He lingered a bit to make sure she would not fall asleep again and discreetly left her room to allow her to get dressed.
The daily briefing was unexceptional. As they already knew, the team would practice an assault on an enemy held building. The exercise scenario included approach, entry, clearing and intelligence gathering. The only surprise came when Casey announced that Devon would have to report to an AAF unit for intermediate and advanced flight training. It was made clear to him that the course would be compressed to meet the operation's deadlines. Fortunately Devon already had many flight hours under his belt, quite a few of which on aircraft with such modern features (by prewar general aviation standards) as retractable landing gear and the like, the Beech Staggerwing being an example. Therefore, he was told that he'd have a few refresher flights on an AT-6 trainer, both with instructor and solo, followed by multi-engine aircraft training on the AT-11 and finally a number of flights on a captured German Ju 88A-4 bomber brought home from the MTO. Devon packed and left after breakfast.
The exercise kept them busy most of the day, with only a short break for lunch, which consisted of Spam sandwiches and coffee. Casey and Sarah had them all repeat the appropriate actions until the execution became automatic. The grand finale for the day was a brief demonstration of demolition techniques by Morgan and Sarah. He was a trained and experienced sapper, while she had received comprehensive sabotage instruction in the past. Their 'bangs' were simply works of art. Naturally, Casey had to draw his .45 and threaten to use it when Jeff and Lester, who happened to wander by the demolition ground, thought it might be fun to play with explosives. Eventually, they gave the two a single quarter pound block of plastic explosive with a very long fuse and told them to blow up a mockup electrical transformer. To the entire team's surprise they did it without a hitch, but they all had a good laugh later when Sarah tossed a 'Hedy', a firecracker like device intended to mimic the sound of an exploding bomb and thus create confusion and allow agents to easily escape in a crowd, at the two men's feet. The way they tripped over each other as they scrambled for cover was indeed comical. That noisy action spared their ears from another assault by Lester's off-key singing after dinner.
When the dishes were finally cleared away, Sarah asked Chuck if he'd like a walk on the beach. As expected, the answer was yes. They strolled quietly on the sand for a while, Chuck keeping a respectful distance between them at first. It was left up to her to decide if she wanted closer proximity. She did and leaned on him. They had gone some distance from the resort-turned-base when she suddenly wrapped both her arms around his right arm and held him tight. Chuck sensed that she was troubled about something.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
"Sorry?"
"There's something bothering you."
"No, nothing," she said too hurriedly. Her own reaction puzzled her for a moment. It should have been natural for her to deflect the question or automatically answer it with the appropriate lie. Her life had frequently depended on her acting skills. What had gone wrong? Was she losing her touch? She realized with a start that she could lie easily to almost everybody, but she could never lie to Chuck.
"Come on, Sarah, I'm not blind. Talk to me." She sat down on a rock and took a deep breath. Chuck joined her and patiently waited for her to speak.
"Chuck, I told you the other day that I spent most of my childhood traveling across the country with my dad. I never stayed long in one place. This meant that I could not make many friends. Even in Harvard I was too focused on my studies to have time for anything more than passing acquaintances with people. Never real friendships. And the espionage business makes virtually no allowance for friends. You, Chuck, are the only real friend I've had in years. Not only that, but you managed to make your friends mine as well. And now I'm scared, Chuck, scared of losing you. Our mission will be very dangerous, and…"
"Stop. Sarah, please, say no more. I know the risks. Some of them at least. I was given the option of refusing this assignment and I did not take it. I volunteered for this. It's my chance to do something more. To go the extra mile, for my country, my family, my friends, for me, for everything I hold dear. You are the spy, the others are soldiers, and I'm good at what I normally do. Together we can do it. We are a team now. Don't second-guess yourself. I've come a long way, and I have you to thank for a large part of what I've managed to do here. I know you are afraid that you've played a part in making me ready to go in harm's way eventually. But I want to do this. That you have to understand."
Sarah looked at him with misting eyes. She had certainly not expected that. Until that day he had been relying on her for guidance and help. Now she found herself drawing strength from him. His quiet determination, his soothing voice helped quell her fears. She blinked back the tears. She did not want to cry. She did not want to appear weak to him. He suddenly pulled her into a hug. It was warm, reassuring, showing her that he knew she was strong; that it was only natural to have feelings and admit having them. They held each other for a few minutes, before getting up and walking back to their place, the bond between them stronger than ever.
Occupied France
"Guy, you were the Count's family doctor for fifteen years. That's why you are here. Right now you are the only person I can turn to for help. So, please, tell me; how well do you know your way around the chateau?"
"Do you know what you are asking me Carina? If you get caught our entire network will be compromised. First they'll go after Ilsa and then they won't stop until they get every last one of us. I simply cannot tell you anything without express approval from the BCRA." Carina got up from her bed and furiously paced around the room. It had been tricky enough to get Dr. LaFleur to come to her place at such a late hour. A German patrol had stopped Ilsa just outside of town, but her papers were in order and she'd managed to convince them that her mistress was ill and she needed to get the doctor. They had insisted on escorting them both to the country house. Carina had been forced to act like she was really ill. Fortunately, the Wehrmacht patrol leader, a Feldwebel, had been a perfect gentleman and just peeked inside her room after knocking and getting permission to enter; seeing a young woman who was apparently in a lot of pain lying in bed, he apologized and wished her well in halting French before uttering a curt 'Aus!' and leading his men out of the house. Ilsa had made sure they were well on their way back to town before giving the all clear.
"Guy," she finally said, "our orders come directly from London."
"Yes, they do. And they do not mention going in that damned chateau and risking everything. We are supposed to wait for the OSS team to arrive." He had called her bluff and she knew it. But she had one more card to play.
"When the team gets here, they'll be pressed for time. We could make it easier for them."
"Easier, how?"
"You could prepare a schematic of the chateau, with points of entry and egress, any secret passages that you know of. I'm sure the Count has not told the Boches about any such things when they forced him to move out."
"I'll tell you what, Carina. I will make the schematics. But I will not give them to you. I will personally hand them over to the team leader when they arrive." Carina had no choice but to accept. The good doctor had, however, inadvertently confirmed the existence of at least one secret passage or in any case a way to get in and out of the chateau undetected.
Ilsa saw Dr. LaFleur to the door and returned to Carina's room. Noticing the satisfied look on her friend's face, she realized what she'd been thinking.
"Carina, no," she said firmly, "you can't try to find the passage on your own. We can't risk you blowing the whole operation." Carina realized that Ilsa had a point and slowly nodded.
January 30th 1944, the Castle
The mess had been turned into an operations briefing room this morning. Big Mike and Langston had set up some boards and photographs and maps of the targets had been pinned to them. Casey began the briefing by giving them al rundown on strengths and dispositions of the German forces guarding the airfield and the chateau. Getting in the airfield would be easy; the garrison there had settled into a routine, predictable and the security measures were not very difficult to bypass. The chateau was another story. It was guarded by a platoon of elite Waffen-SS Panzergrenadiers and its relatively small perimeter was easily covered. It would be quite a challenge to infiltrate it. They were too few to go in with guns blazing and they did not want to involve the Resistance too much. Casey had agreed with Sarah on that. It was something they would have to work on later, but a report from the local contact saying that there might be a secret passage into the chateau had given them a glimmer of hope.
Chuck stole a glance at Sarah. She was diligently taking notes and fielding questions, back to being her usual confident self. Casey finished speaking and lit one of his Costa Gravan cigars before he adjourned the meeting in time for lunch and gave them all a few hours off before some more practice at the range. Chuck smiled as he saw Bryce and Jill leaving to raid the kitchen and go back to their cottage. He knew they were going to have lunch there and resume their fun activities. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Sarah. He looked up at her and gave her his gigawatt Bartowski smile which caused her to smile too, brightly. They were going back for lunch after getting some fresh air outside, when Morgan intercepted them.
"Hey buddy! Got some time?"
"Sure Morgan, what's up?"
"Nothing much, I found a photo album in my stuff earlier today and I was wondering if you'd like me to show it to you. We've talked about my time in North Africa, but now I have the pictures to go with the stories."
"That would be great, Morgan, I'll get us something to eat while you go get your album," Sarah answered the question for Chuck.
"I'll help you with that," added Chuck.
Just a few minutes later Chuck Sarah and Morgan were sitting at a table enjoying lunch and browsing through Morgan's photos. Chuck pointed to a color photo of his friend and some other Legionnaires posing in front of a tank. It was not a very big vehicle, but it was the paint scheme that caught his eye. Green and red brown squiggles were painted over the sand yellow base color, a white bordered blue heart and a French red/white/blue cockade were painted on the turret and a big French tricolor adorned the hull.
"Morgan, what is that?"
"That's an old Somua S35 tank of the 12e Régiment de Chasseurs d' Afrique. The photo was taken in Tunisia after the Axis surrender."
"I like it. It's colorful," said Sarah.
"Yeah, I was lucky to be able to get some color film rolls from a Life photographer. I traded a nifty little Beretta I took from an Italian officer for them. Hey, I got my camera here. How about a taking few photos? You know I'm a sucker for such mementos." Chuck and Sarah agreed. Leading them outside, Morgan took a picture of Chuck in his Army fatigues, then a picture of Sarah, then Chuck and Sarah together – he had insisted on that and would not take no for an answer. Finally, he got Cole to take a group photo of him, Chuck and Sarah. The three thanked Cole and after Sarah took a picture of Chuck and Morgan they saw Big Mike heading towards the boathouse carrying a fishing rod and a tackle box.
"Big Mike," Chuck called, "you going fishing?"
"Yes, it's my hobby. Time for those dimwits, Jeff and Lester to do something useful too. Fancy a boat ride, fellas?" Chuck looked at Sarah, who smiled and nodded.
"Sure, why not?"
They all followed Big Mike to the boathouse. Jeff started up the diesel and Lester cast off the mooring lines. A few minutes later the USS Loretta was rolling gently with the swell in the middle of the bay. Big Mike was explaining the finer points of fishing to Jeff and Lester. Morgan was snapping photos. Chuck and Sarah were in the troop bay by the starboard gun mount abaft the narrow corridor to the bow ramp, simply leaning on the gunwale, breathing in the view. From the sea their base looked just like the resort it was originally meant to be. They were thinking the same thing: in the summer it must be absolutely beautiful here. Sarah decided that she would definitely take Chuck back to this place after the war. Just the two of them. No training, no missions, nothing else but them. Her smile grew wider. It was certainly something to look forward to, also providing another motivation for her to complete the mission.
"You know, Chuck," she said, breaking the silence, "if we were here in the summer instead of in the middle of winter, I'd be sure to go water skiing. Never tried it, but I really want to do it someday."
"How would you do that?"
"Easily enough; all I'd need would be a length of line to tie to the stern bollard with a loop on one end, a suitable board and someone to steer the boat."
"Sounds like fun." Chuck's mind was already picturing her in swimwear.
They were so absorbed in their conversation that they failed to notice Lester who had just passed by behind them to retrieve some bottles of beer from the port side gun tub. Had they seen him, they'd have also noticed the funny look on his face as he made his way back to the stern.
They went back ashore in time for the scheduled weapons practice. And this time Casey had a little surprise for all of them.
"Here, numb nuts, catch," Casey said as he tossed a short barreled rifle to Chuck, who fumbled and then caught it.
"What's that?"
"It's the De Lisle silent carbine. Basically a cut-down Lee-Enfield rifle, rebarreled to .45 caliber with an integrated silencer. Takes standard Colt .45 mags. Care to try it?"
"Uh, yes."
"Lock and load."
"Ready."
"Fire!"
Chuck aimed, pulled the trigger, then worked the bolt and fired again. The loudest sounds were the bolt cycling and the spent cartridge cases hitting the ground. From twenty feet away the weapon's report was almost inaudible. Its accuracy was also impressive. The others took their turn with the De Lisle and then Casey had Sarah demonstrate the High Standard Model HD .22 silenced automatic pistol and the Welrod 7.65mm special purpose silent pistol. Cole also showed them the operation of the silencer equipped Sten Mk IIS submachine gun and its restrictions.
The day's firearms training was concluded with a lesson on German weaponry, mostly pistols and submachine guns. It was already dark when they made their way back to the mess for dinner and some more free time. Casey and Sarah had deliberately made a more relaxed schedule for a few days. The team had made sufficient progress to allow for it. They all needed the break, since the previous two weeks had been exhausting.
Chuck ended up playing cards with Morgan and Bryce. Cole also joined in the game at some point. Sarah went with Casey to his office to do some paperwork. Later, Chuck returned to his and Sarah's cottage and worked a little more on his own notes. He only looked up when Sarah returned. She plopped down on the couch and sighed.
"Everything OK, Sarah?" he asked her.
"Hmmm? Oh, yeah, sure. I just hate paperwork."
"I don't blame you. You are a woman of action."
"I need a drink," she said. "Want some bourbon?"
"That'd be great, thanks." She poured two glasses full from her stash and gave one to him. She then moved closer to him and sat on the edge of the desk.
"Still doing your normal job?" she asked, indicating his notes.
"Yes, after all, it's what I do best." He took a sip of his bourbon.
"What else do you do, Mr. Bartowski?" she asked with a sly grin.
"Let's see… I like to go to the movies…"
"I figured that out already."
"I like reading too. Jules Verne, Isaac Asimov, H. G. Wells, that kind of books."
"I used to read Verne as a child. Never had the chance to read anything by Wells or Asimov though."
"Oh, I can fix that." He got up and disappeared to his room for a few minutes before returning with a book, which he gave to her. "Consider it your reintroduction to science fiction," he said.
"Thanks Chuck," she said with a smile. Suddenly a thought came to her. "Chuck?"
"Yes, Sarah?"
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"What does your sister think of your hobbies?"
"Normally, she doesn't mind much. She does think I should go out more though. Oh, and she was really mad at me when I tore apart the radio at our place once, when I was still in high school. I'd wanted to make my own transmitter-receiver radio and I could not afford all the components I needed, so that was the easiest solution for me."
"Somehow it fits," she said regarding him with a critical eye, trying to picture a younger Chuck being given a dressing down by his sister for what he'd done. An amused smile started creeping across her face as the image formed in her brain.
Occupied France
"Can you do anything about it?"
"No, Herr Major. I'm sorry, but the crankshaft is broken and at least one bearing has failed. We will need to replace the entire engine."
"Then get to work," Rechenberg said irritably.
"It's impossible, Herr Major. We do not have spare engines here. We'll have to bring one in from the main base in Metz," replied he mechanic, trying to keep his voice at a respectful tone. He already had more than enough to keep him busy without having that conceited Prussian officer hassling him. Rechenberg realized that he had nothing to gain by heaping further abuse on the mechanic and stalked off.
A Frenchman who was employed at the base overheard the conversation; he decided to report what he'd just heard to his Resistance cohorts. He did not know much about aircraft, but he could see that this one was different. The information might be important.
January 31st 1944, the Castle
"Are you kidding? You'd freeze to death in minutes. Sorry, pal, the answer is no."
"Come on, mate, I got it all covered. We have some waterproof rubber diving suits in the storeroom. I know, I checked. All I have to do is put some warm clothing underneath and we're in business."
"OK, fine. But I'm not letting you do it without a lifebelt on."
"Magnificent! I will only have to find some more things I need, as I told you."
"Colonel Casey's gonna put our asses in a sling, you know that, right?"
"I heard the blonde talking about doing it yesterday. Don't you want to help me beat her to it?"
"OK, partner, we'll do it just before lunch."
"Hooray for Jeffster!"
The Project Intersect team members were making their way back to base after a long hike in full combat gear, their minds on the refreshments awaiting them in the mess. Suddenly, Sarah, who was point, stopped and cursed roundly and loudly after taking a look with her binoculars at the scene that had caught her eye.
"Son of a bitch!"
"What's wrong, Walker?" Casey asked, coming up behind her.
"Take a look over there." He did. His reaction mirrored Sarah's.
"Are we ever gonna find peace with these two around?"
"Hey, what's up?" Chuck asked, rounding the bend and walking up to the two team leaders. Casey just glared at him and grunted. Sarah passed him the binoculars.
"You have to be kidding me!" he exclaimed after realizing what he was seeing. Lester in a rubber suit and a lifebelt was skimming through the water crouched on a homemade surfboard, which was towed behind the Loretta at the craft's full speed of nine knots.
"How is that possible? How could these two be so imaginative as to think of something like this?" Casey asked, dumbfounded.
"It's my fault," Sarah admitted miserably.
"No, it's not. Casey, don't listen to her. We were talking about water skiing while on the boat yesterday and Lester must have overheard the conversation. And the fool decided to try it in the middle of the damned winter!"
"Is it true Walker?"
"Yes."
"You are not at fault. You could not foresee their monumental stupidity. Don't worry, I'll rip 'em a new one when we get back." Casey turned to Morgan, Bryce and Cole. "Alright, saddle up people, the break's over. Just over half a mile left to go. Move it!"
Back at the base, Casey ordered a quick roll call. Jeff and Lester were fairly beaming with pride for their 'accomplishment'. The others were trying to keep straight faces, knowing what would ensue. A scowling Casey walked up and down the line a couple of times, before pausing in front of Lester.
"What is that in your mouth, Patel?"
"Chewing gum sir!"
"Swallow it!" Casey roared.
*gulp!*
Casey then grabbed Jeff and Lester by their collars and conked their heads together. They fell to the ground dazed.
"I want you two assholes in my office in five minutes. I'm not through with you yet. The rest of you are dismissed."
Naturally, Chuck, Sarah, Morgan, Bryce, Cole, even Big Mike and Langston, were all crowded in the corridor outside Casey's closed office door, listening to him shout and curse at the two idiots. What they were hearing was eliciting a wide variety of reactions, from chuckling, to cringing in mild shock, to outright laughter as Casey set new records for inventiveness and originality in insults and threats for a single chewing out session.
The rest of the day was mostly spent doing routine stuff.
At the cottage, Chuck had gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and was heading back to his room, when he just happened to look in Sarah's room through her open door. She had fallen asleep, the book he'd given her still in her hand, the nightstand light on. Apparently, she'd been so absorbed by it that she'd continued reading until exhaustion got the better of her. He smiled, gently took the book from her fingers placing it on the nightstand, adjusted the covers, turned off the light and exited the room closing the door behind him with a last fond look at her sleeping form.
A/N (2): The "Hedy" was a real device, named after movie actress Hedy Lamarr because, according to the inventor, "lusty young officers said she created a panic wherever she went" (Time-Life Books, World War II The Secret War, revised 1982 edition, p.128).
There is also photographic evidence of US personnel waterskiing behind landing craft (Time-Life Books, World War II War In The Outposts, revised 1981 edition, p.117).
The North American Aviation AT-6 is the well known Texan (Harvard to the Brits) trainer.
The AT-11 Kansan is the bomber crew training variant of the Beechcraft Model 18 (see Chapter 1 for mention of the USN/USMC JRB-4 light transport variant).
The suppressed (silenced) weapons mentioned here are all real. Look them up online for more information. Oh, the Welrod was available both in 9mm Para and .32 ACP, the latter being featured in this chapter.
MTO: Mediterranean Theater of Operations.
