Never give in – never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.
Winston Churchill
- 0 -
Early morning
Kent, England
Malcolm dozed in his chair whilst Adam alternated between bouts of pacing and staring out the window, as though he could force the weather to clear through sheer willpower. He wondered bleakly whether Harry and Ruth had survived the jump. It had been madness, they should have postponed. But Harry Pearce was not a man to be argued with once he'd set his mind to something; Adam knew that from past experience. He thought back to the last time he'd observed his former Commanding Officer in full flow - stood before a group of bedraggled French troops and his own unit of Light Dragoons, not looking much better. They had been forced to retreat by the overwhelming number of the German forces that had poured over France and had found themselves cornered against the ocean, the harbour of Dunkirk their last stand:
"We stand here today facing certain defeat," Harry told the men. "It is our choice whether it will be ignominious or noble. Behind us are thousands of troops, and hundreds of ships are on the way to evacuate them. If we hold onto this position right here for today, we will have ensured that thousands of lives are saved. I don't know about you, but I intend to fight until my last breath to see that happen. If I am to die today, I prefer it to be for this most worthy cause, looking the enemy in the eye, rather than to have it happen whilst my back is turned in retreat. So stand to your posts, and let us make sure that the victory is a hollow one for our enemies."
Adam smiled as he remembered the resolve in the faces of the men around him after that speech, and how it had stayed with him once they'd got back to home soil and had eventually inspired him to transfer to the Air Force in time for the Battle of Britain. He wondered what was so important about this mission that Harry would risk their lives with a jump in such awful conditions, and knew he would carry a certain amount of guilt if any harm had come to them. As the pilot it was his responsibility to gauge conditions and to make the final decision.
Behind him the radio beeped loudly in the silence and he spun around. Malcolm jumped up and scrambled for the earphones and a pen and paper. He sat hunched over the table and scribbled frantically for a few minutes. Adam contained his impatience until he was finished before blurting, "Is it them?"
Malcolm looked up with a small, relieved smile. "It's them."
There was another few minutes' silence whilst he decoded the message and checked that all the safety phrases were present. He and Ruth had agreed that she would misspell certain words if they were captured and forced to send messages by the Germans. But the spelling was faultless, and the phrases that indicated all was well were all there.
"They're fine, they made contact with Jo's group as arranged, and are now on their way to Dunkirk," he reported.
Adam briefly closed his eyes. "That man has the luck of the devil," he mused with a shake of the head.
Malcolm nodded. "He'll need lots more to get out of this one alive."
They looked at each other sombrely, before Malcolm proceeded to send a return message.
- 0 –
En route to Dunkirk, France
For the first twenty miles they encountered no-one. The roads were deserted after the storm, its detritus strewn over the countryside. Harry had to dodge around fallen branches and even a few uprooted trees. Ruth was thankful not to be on a horse; even though every bump in the road jolted her hip painfully, it was still better than being jostled about in the saddle for seventy miles. She wasn't sure her hip, or Harry's knee for that matter, would have coped with that. Though she was sat on his right, she could see him massage his left knee every now and then, a sure sign that it was bothering him. She pondered how the events since their arrival in France had once again highlighted the contradictions of the man, and shuddered as she remembered the way he had shot the German, clinically and without hesitation. It had of course been necessary; she understood that - the corporal would have sussed them out sooner rather than later. But still, that young man was not only the enemy, he was also a human being, and she thought it important to hold onto that fact. She wondered whether Harry saw him as anything more than an enemy. Perhaps, if one had survived through the front end of a war like he had in those disastrous months that had ended in the evacuation of their troops at Dunkirk, it was more difficult to do so. By now it was obvious to her that Harry could be determinedly single-minded, and that he would without compunction kill anyone who tried to stand between them and their objective. And yet he had shown such gentle concern when he'd looked at her hip. It made her wonder what he would be like if he could simply be a normal man, rather than someone who carried the fate of the war on his shoulders. Maybe she would get the chance to find out one day.
They climbed a small ridge and Harry killed the light before they crested. He stopped and surveyed the dark landscape before them. They were nearing Béthune and he was certain they would begin to encounter checkpoints soon. It would be better to test their cover at one of the smaller roadblocks – at least then they would have a chance to shoot their way out of trouble.
"Ruth, let's use Malcolm's machine," he instructed quietly.
He backed up until the ridge obscured them and put on his torch. Ruth had the machine on her lap and handed him the cables that needed to be attached to the battery. Harry clipped them on and Ruth fiddled with the knobs for a few minutes. He had to curb his impatience and the urge to snap at her to hurry up. Finally she was ready.
"I have three positions," she announced and read out the coordinates to him. He marked them on their map. Two were quite close together and positioned on the main road they had been following.
"There must be a large contingent stationed there," he surmised.
The third one was on a dirt road that skirted Béthune.
"We'll go that way," he decided. Behind him, the first light of dawn began to lighten the sky.
"Why are they concentrating on the roads?" she asked. "Could someone not simply work their way past the checkpoints across the fields?"
"They'll have foot patrols as well," he responded. "And also, this country consists of hedges. It is impossible to get any sort of vehicle across the fields because of them. Apart from a tank, I suppose."
Ruth thought about it. "If only we had more time to get there," she noted somewhat wistfully. "Then we could simply have worked our way through the fields-"
Something that had nagged at the back of her mind suddenly came to the fore and she grabbed Harry's arm.
"Harry!" she exclaimed in alarm. "Jo said there was increased activity by the Germans since yesterday. Do you think…"
"What?" he asked when she didn't continue.
"Do you think they know about us and about their spy's arrival tonight? And that we have limited time to reach the coast?"
Harry stared at her, amazed by the alacrity with which she had put the pieces together.
"Possibly," he conceded. "But that doesn't change what we have to do. All it means is that we will have to be smarter than them."
She was about to ask how the Germans could possibly have found out about them, but Harry reached into his pocket and produced a chunky gold bracelet from which a round disk dangled. He handed it to her and she took a closer look at the disk, and almost recoiled when she saw the eagle atop the swastika.
"What is this?"
"Part of our cover," he explained. "We are on our way back from a night of debauchery. I gave that to you for, erm, services rendered. Here," he took it from her, then took hold of her arm so that he could fasten it around her wrist. He held onto her for a few heartbeats and was suddenly filled with a desire to one day give her a piece of jewellery that she would actually want.
She stared at the bracelet with revulsion.
"Ruth," he said firmly and her eyes snapped to his. "You are a loose French woman who throws herself at every German officer that comes across her path. You are sated and relaxed after a night of sex, and you have just received a piece of gold that could feed your family for months. You are happy, and that's what I want to see from you if we get stopped. All right?"
Ruth looked stunned, but nodded all the same. She wasn't at all sure that she would be able to pull off what he asked with her limited experience.
Harry saw the doubt flicker across her face. He said, "You have seen women like this the morning after, haven't you? At university she's the one who strolls into the common room on a Sunday morning and pours herself into a chair with that secretive, suggestive little smile."
She raised an eyebrow, and couldn't help but wonder about his past experiences. It certainly seemed to be rather more extensive than hers. But then he was older than her. She swallowed and nodded again.
He started the motorcycle and added, "Make sure the Sten is within easy reach," and set off once more.
- 0 –
Five miles later they rounded a corner and found the road barred by a wooden pole. By now the sun had begun to rise above the horizon and it bathed the storm-battered landscape in streaks of golden sunlight. The air smelt fresh and clean, and Harry enjoyed all these sensations as he slowed the Triumph to a stop. He observed the soldiers closely and noted how they relaxed once they saw the military motorcycle, and then suddenly stiffened as they registered the SS uniform and insignia. They began to snap to attention, but some changed their salute halfway through to the stiff-armed Nazi one, which was accompanied by an uncoordinated mumbling of 'Heil Hitler'. It was almost comical. He lazily returned the salute and looked at them with arrogant authority. Beside him Ruth stretched lazily, and the movement caused the scarf around her shoulders to fall away and reveal her tight blouse. It accentuated her breasts and had enough buttons undone to expose their creamy tops. Aware that many of the soldiers' eyes were riveted on her, she admired the way the bracelet glinted in the sunlight. What she was unaware of was that Harry's gaze also lingered on her as he allowed an expression of lust to settle on his face, before he looked back at the soldiers with an insolent smile and produced the Fifteenth Army pass. One of the soldiers tore his eyes from Ruth's bosom long enough to give it a cursory glance.
"Thank you, Obergruppenführer," he said and waved them through.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Ruth began to laugh. Harry grinned down at her, aware that it was a release of the tension they had operated under ever since their departure from England.
"That was perfect," he told her. "Keep it like that if we encounter another checkpoint. Don't overplay."
Ruth took a breath and nodded that she understood. A few miles later Harry pulled in behind a hedge and they used Malcolm's machine again. In this manner they carefully picked their way through the enemy lines, working towards the coast in a zigzag fashion as they sought out the smaller units. The locals they passed looked at them with defeated, resentful eyes, and Harry noted that most of them were on foot or used horses. A man and a boy aboard a horse cart filled with coal took their time to move over and allow the motorcycle to pass. Their faces, hands and clothes were covered in black soot, and they stared at his uniform warily, their fear barely masking their anger at the intruders that had overrun their country.
Harry and Ruth passed through two more roadblocks without incident. At each Harry casually enquired about the state of the road in a different direction in an attempt to throw the Germans off the scent. But just as he began to think that they could go all the way in this manner, Malcolm's machine went crazy.
Ruth looked at Harry worriedly. "The Germans' communications are spiking. Something must have happened."
Harry grimaced and looked back the way they'd come. They had about a five mile start on the soldiers that had seen them at the last roadblock.
Ruth's eyes widened. "Do you think they found the dead soldier and know about the missing motorcycle?"
"I do," he confirmed. "We have to get rid of the Triumph. Come on, help me push it towards that ditch."
They pushed it across the field and dumped it into a shallow ditch. Harry covered it with dirt and branches. Once he was satisfied that it was invisible to a perfunctory search, he heaved the duffel bag over his shoulder and took the Sten gun from Ruth. He handed her the Mauser and, noting the tentative manner in which she took it from him said, "When I tell you to shoot, you shoot. And you keep on shooting until I tell you to stop."
With that instruction ringing in her ears, they set off across the field, away from the road. Moments later they heard a vehicle approaching at high speed. Harry pulled Ruth down and pressed her into the ground. He saw two jeeps rush by in the direction they had been travelling, and he took that as confirmation that their cover had been blown. That, of course, meant that the Germans also knew that the two British spies were a man and a woman, and that the man was wearing an SS uniform. Once the vehicles were out of sight, he stripped off the uniform jacket and put on an old coat.
"Let's go," he said, and they moved off again.
- 0 –
Kent, England
Malcolm worked through the intercepts of German radio traffic of the previous day to see if there were anything he should inform Harry about during the next scheduled communication. Most of it were run of the mill diplomatic messages. There was a few that provided information about movement of troops that could be useful. He was already compiling his report in his head when another message caught his eye. He read it again, carefully, before he jumped up.
"Bloody Nora!"
He rushed off to compile an urgent report to be sent at the earliest opportunity.
- 0 -
Road to Dunkirk, France
As they crossed yet another field Harry estimated that they had another fifteen miles to go. He did not fancy covering that distance on foot; his knee ached and he was sure Ruth's hip made walking painful for her as well. He needed to find them other transport. Two miles further he saw a horse grazing in a camp. He pulled Ruth down in the shade of a hedge and sat down next to her whilst he watched for any activity in the vicinity. Weariness was beginning to catch up with him and he wondered how Ruth was faring. He turned his head to look at her, and found her leaning back into the hedge with her eyes closed. She had a streak of dirt on her cheek from when he'd pressed her to the ground earlier. His hand rose of its own accord and gently brushed some of the dirt away. Her eyes flew open at the first touch, found his and never moved. He became aware of his own breathing, fast and shallow, and his heart beating wildly at the softness of her skin. Ruth didn't dare move or speak, afraid that she would shatter the moment. The turmoil swirling in his eyes told her of his internal struggle, and just for a moment she thought his heart would win and he would kiss her. But he reined himself in and his hand dropped away. His eyes, though, remained riveted on the dirt stain until she lifted a hand to wipe at it self-consciously. He swatted it away unceremoniously.
"We need the dirt," he stated firmly.
He looked at the horse again and contemplated whether he could fashion a bridle out of one of Ruth's stockings, whilst she switched on the radio set and checked for messages. She took the incoming message down before she sent her own brief report on their progress. Then she settled down to decode the received message. When she was done, she stared at it before saying in a low, urgent voice, "Harry."
He looked up, instantly on alert. She handed him the message – a verbatim account of the report sent by the German spy Anthony.
"It seems one of their spies managed to slip through your net back home," she said with a hint of accusation. Perhaps it was because she was so tired, or her disappointment that he'd pulled back from the moment they shared earlier, but she suddenly had the urge to goad him into some sort of reaction. He looked at her steadily, but said nothing. She was about to speak again when they heard a cart approach. Harry put a finger to his lips and peered through the hedge. It was the coal cart they had passed earlier that day. He sat back, frowning thoughtfully, and then looked back at Ruth and said, "I have an idea."
- 0 –
Fifteenth Army Headquarters, Lille
Helmut Schneider was furious. He glared at the unfortunate communications officer who had brought word of the English agents' ingenious plan.
"Are you telling me that two English spies were allowed to simply drive through three checkpoints? Three?"
The pitch of his voice climbed until it was almost in the hysterical register, and the communications officer tried desperately not to wince as some spittle landed on his cheek. That was the problem with this job – one always got the blame for others' mistakes. He watched apprehensively as the Chief of Staff paced before him.
Schneider once again came to a stop in front of the other man and curbed his impulse to strike out at him. "At least we now know that we must look for a man and woman. That's something, I suppose."
He thought for a moment, swung on his heel and marched toward the map table. The last road block they had waltzed through was about twenty five miles from the coast. Perhaps it was time for him to take personal control of this operation.
"Get their description to every damn soldier out there, and for God's sake tell them not to be blinded by the clothes – it's very likely that they could have changed it by now. And send for my car; I'm going to Dunkirk to sort out this mess myself."
Ten minutes later he was on his way. He sat in the back and stared moodily out of the window as the driver sped towards Dunkirk. Schneider contemplated the fact that he'd not informed General von Salmuth about Tiberius, Anthony or the British spies. He'd seen an opportunity to further his own career by orchestrating the capture of the two enemy agents, and thus ensure safe passage for their own man with his important information. If all went to plan, he could be the man that saved the war for Germany. But now his success could be threatened by the incompetence of those below him. He sneered at the thought of how easily the British spies had pulled the wool over the eyes of his soldiers. He would not make the same mistake.
- 0 –
The horse trudged along, its head hung low. Ruth thought it looked as weary as she felt. She wondered how much more she could take before she either collapsed or made a fatal mistake, but she was determined not to show weakness in front of Harry. A tense silence reigned between them. He had refused to be drawn into a confrontation, and had simply continued to concentrate on what had to be done. It left her frustrated, angry and feeling rather lonely. She reminded herself that she was nothing more than asset to him, and Connie's warning came back to her – with a man like Harry, personal relationships would always come a distant second. She would do well not to forget that again. The growl of a powerful engine coming up behind them interrupted her gloomy thoughts. It pulled right up to them and kept pace a step or two behind. Ruth glanced over her shoulder and her heart nearly stopped. It was a big black car, the type that German officers of very senior rank used. Her adrenaline levels shot through the roof, and when the horn sounded she jumped involuntarily. Her only thought was that their luck had finally run out, and that they were about to be captured. They had failed, and Britain would lose the war.
tbc