It wasn't a bomber's moon. Whatever else that night might have been, it wasn't a bomber's moon, and the four men on the ground knew it. If it had been a bomber's moon, they would have been asleep in their barracks, threadbare blankets wrapped around their lean bodies. But it wasn't and so they were out, slinking silently through the bushes toward the railway siding.
"Hold up a minute," came the hissed whisper from the shadowy figure in the lead. The other three closed ranks around the first man, their heads moving slowly from side to side as they appraised the situation.
They all saw the same thing. There were two guards stationed on each side of the bridge and another two on each side patrolling the riverbanks. The patrols didn't have floodlights, but each man had a flashlight at his belt. The four crouched in the bushes could hear the metal of the flashlight clinking against the metal of the guard's side-arms with every step.
"How close do we have to be to set off the charges?" the leader asked, turning to one of the others at his side.
"We have to be at least there." The excited whisper was accompanied by a jab of a finger toward a stand of trees about fifty metres from the tracks. "Too much closer and we'll be caught in the explosion. Too much further and the wire won't reach."
"I thought we got more wire in the last airdrop."
A silent shake of the head. One of the others answered, "It didn't come, mon colonel."
The leader passed a hand up over his dark hair. "Everyone saw that stand of trees Carter pointed to?" His answer was a round of nods. "We'll meet back there at oh-one-hundred hours. Newkirk, you and Carter wire the bridge itself as best you can. LeBeau and I will take care of the section of track around the bend."
Splitting off in pairs, they headed toward their objectives. Two men moved along the tree-line toward the place where the tracks curved around a corner. The other two slipped quickly back into the brush, moving toward the bridge. The night was still quiet, almost too quiet for what it was. But in the silence it hadn't lost its purpose; it was another night in a string of nights fighting a private war within a war.
But it wasn't to remain silent for long. The four men had only just started back toward the grouping of trees when the sound of bomber engines drifted toward them from the west. Ears perked, the men could tell almost immediately that the planes were British. The newly-reconstructed bridge had obviously been dubbed important enough to send bombers in after all.
The guards stopped in their patrols to turn their eyes skyward, anticipating something. The four men didn't take the time to stop and wonder what the guards were anticipating. The four were making the most of the time to get back to their meeting place before the appointed time. They only had moments to spare.
The planes were silhouetted darkly against the black sky. And then that black sky was afire with bright bursts of flak. The flack guns were on the other side of the river, hidden from aerial photography by the trees. The bombers had flown right into a set-up.
Three of the four had frozen, eyes turned toward the heavens and glued to the bombers. The fourth, the leader, allowed it for just a moment. Then he whispered, "Carter, get wiring that detonator. If we can set it off when the bombs start dropping, they won't know that it wasn't just a lucky hit."
"Yes, sir," Carter answered, turning immediately to his work. His quick fingers darted among the various wires, connecting the fuse box to the bundles of charges they'd spread out along the railway. The others kept their eyes glued to the sky.
Bombs started dropping from above the bridge. But it wasn't a bomber's moon and they weren't coming close to the target. The first set landed too far to the north, blasting a section of forest into oblivion. The second were too far south, annihilating another section of forest. "Hurry, Carter," one of the others hissed. "There aren't too many more coming."
"Done, sir," Carter answered.
"Well, what are you bloody waiting for?" someone asked.
"There are no planes overhead," the leader answered. "We have to wait until another one flies over. Just keep waiting, there's another one coming."
"Mon colonel, that plane isn't flying. It's crashing." Flames were licking at the fuselage from both engines. They could see the fire spreading from their position in the trees.
"Wait until it's overhead," the leader said. "The Germans might not notice if it drops its bombs or not. Hopefully all they'll see is explosion."
Parachutes were coming from the plane. The first cleared the plane completely and started drifting toward their hiding spot. The second brushed against the flaming body of the plane and the fabric of the parachute caught fire. They could see the flames falling. There were no others.
"Detonate it now," the leader ordered.
"Wait, Colonel Hogan. The first man, he's too close to the explosion. He'll be killed," Carter answered, his eyes following the parachute as it snagged on a tree. The dark figure beneath it slammed into the trunk and hung unmoving beneath the strings. "I'm going after him."
"There's one more plane coming over," one of the men pointed out.
Carter was already standing, ready to take off running. "Push the plunger when the bomber's overhead. I'll make sure that we're far enough away." And without waiting for permission, he took off in the direction of the white parachute.
"Carter," Hogan hissed. But it was too late. Carter's dark figure had already covered half of the short distance between the two positions. The last dash would bring him within sight of the guards on the bridge, but luck was with him and the guards were still watching the flak explode above them. The last plane was getting closer.
"Mon Dieu," one said, hiding his face in his hands, "he will never make it."
None of the others had an answer, their eyes were fixed on Carter's figure as he scaled the tree to help the man hack at the strings holding him entangled in the branches of the tree. "At least we wore our uniforms tonight," Hogan said, eyes flickering up to the last bomber as it drew ever closer. Carter and the airman only had maybe about thirty seconds to get to safety.
The dark figure dangling beneath the parachute dropped suddenly to the ground and the watchers could see Carter scamper quickly down the tree. Together the two moved off toward safety. But they didn't have much time; the bomber was almost overhead. Hogan's hand hesitated on the plunger. He knew that the two men were still too close to the explosion.
Carter knew it too, but he motioned over his head for Hogan to detonate the explosives. Hogan applied a little pressure to the plunger, but his hand hesitated once more. The bomber was directly overhead. Hogan pushed the plunger.
The bridge exploded in a fireball and around the bend in the track, the same angry flash could be seen. The bomber released its bombs at almost the same time as the explosives blew, but the bombs went wide, taking down still more trees, but likely little else. It wasn't a bomber's moon.
There was no sign of Carter or the airman. Waiting for a second to allow the secondary explosions to settle, Hogan turned to the two men still with him. "We've only got a few minutes before these woods are crawling with Germans. Spread out and comb the area you saw them in before the bomb went off."
They moved silently off, splitting off in different directions so that they could cover more area in less time. "Why would he do such a reckless thing?" Hogan whispered to himself as he moved through the brush toward the point where he had last seen Carter. "He knew what would happen if he didn't get far enough away."
There was no sign of him in the bushes in front of Hogan. He closed his eyes, trying to remember exactly where he had last seen the two figures. He needed to be a little further east; they had been closer to the bridge. He was starting to move toward the spot where he thought he had seen them last when he heard a sharp whisper from behind him.
"Over 'ere."
Both of the other men hurried over. Carter was sprawled out on the ground, bleeding slightly from a gash on his forehead. Other than that he appeared fine. He had landed on a relatively clear spot on the ground. Hogan knelt to gently slap Carter's cheeks. "Come on, Carter, wake up." It took a few slaps, but he started to come around, moaning a little and clutching his head.
"Find the other guy," Hogan ordered, helping Carter up into a sitting position. "He can't be far from here." The other two split off immediately. They both knew that time was of the essence. The Germans would be flooding into the woods at any second.
"Anything broken?' Hogan asked, fingers gently feeling the cut on Carter's head.
"I don't think so, colonel," Carter answered a little shakily. "But my head sure hurts."
"You're going to have quite a shiner in the morning. You think you can walk?"
Carter nodded and Hogan helped him to his feet. If the others didn't find the airman in the next minute, they would have to leave without him. "Where's the other guy?" Carter asked, supporting himself on a nearby tree a little.
"Newkirk and LeBeau are looking right now." There was something in Hogan's voice that made Carter stand a little straighter, almost as though he were expecting to be dressed down for his actions.
"I had to, sir," Carter started, defending himself already. "I couldn't just let him die. Not when he's one of ours."
Hogan might have answered, but there was another call. "Over here."
Hogan hurried over. Carter followed a little more slowly. The airman hadn't been as lucky as Carter and had landed awkwardly over a log. In the darkness, and against his dark flight suit, it was difficult to see anything. They couldn't just tell by sight if he had any serious injuries, but they couldn't take the time to examine him properly, already German orders could be heard from where the tracks had once been.
"Newkirk, you think you can carry him?" Hogan asked, jerking his head toward the prone airman.
Newkirk nodded. "I think so, guv'nor." Without waiting for Hogan to respond, he knelt and scooped the man up into his arms. "At least I can carry 'im for a while."
"Unless we want to get friendly with some Krauts, let's get a move on." Hogan started striding off deeper into the woods. "LeBeau, give Carter a hand."
"I'm fine," Carter asserted, pushing himself away from his tree. He swayed and LeBeau stepped in quickly to steady him.
"In the interests of speed," Hogan said, turning and raising his eyebrows at Carter. Carter nodded slowly and allowed LeBeau to help him.
Newkirk shifted the dead weight of the airman more comfortably into his arms and followed behind Hogan and the entwined figures of LeBeau and Carter. "This is going to be one bloody long walk," he whispered, trying to walk as fast as he could without stumbling.