Resistance

by Christopher Nicole

  *

  The RAF sergeant saluted. ‘Sterling, sir. The car is waiting.’

  ‘Right.’ James put on his cap.

  ‘I still think it’s crazy for you to be wearing uniform,’ Rachel said.

  ‘It’s absolutely essential that I wear uniform. That way, if I’m captured, the Jerries will have to lock me up as a POW rather than shoot me as a spy.’

  ‘Your faith in their ethics is touching.’ She handed him the valise. ‘There’s everything you need. You’ll be back tomorrow morning. Right?’

  ‘That’s the idea.’

  ‘Well, then... Oh, fuck it.’ She took off her glasses and tears dribbled down her cheeks.

  ‘I’ll take your valise down, sir,’ the sergeant said, picking up the case and leaving the room.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rachel said. ‘I just wish I was coming with you.’

  ‘I’ll be here when you come in tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m not coming in tomorrow. I’m spending the night right here. Well, someone has to mind the shop. Right?’

  ‘Right.’ He held her close, kissed her mouth. ‘I wouldn’t have you anywhere else.’

  ‘And you’ll give Liane my love. I feel I’ve known her all my life.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll bring her back to meet you.’ A last kiss, and he was hurrying down the stairs.

  It was a long drive from the East End to Northolt, and it was seven when they arrived; the early September evening was just drawing in. The sergeant spoke little on the journey, which suited James very well. He had to concentrate, to forget what he was leaving behind and be concerned only with what lay ahead. And who. After four months. And she was again about to endanger her life. But from what he had been told, her life had been in danger just about every day of those four months. Well, he was determined to change that.

  Group Captain Patton was waiting for him, together with his pilot, a fair-haired young man who also sported an outsize moustache. ‘Flying Officer Brune, sir. Glad to have you aboard. You’ve flown before, I take it?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘Piece of cake, really.’

  ‘You mean it’s not dangerous.’

  ‘Well, sir, driving a motor car is dangerous, if the wrong person is behind the wheel.’

  Patton had been listening with quiet amusement. ‘He’ll take care of you. Now, you’re loaded with everything you can safely carry. You understand that because of the extra fuel tanks we have only been able to fill half the order.’

  ‘Which means we’ll come back a hell of a sight faster than on the way out,’ Brune grinned.

  ‘So we could have room for a passenger.’ if you want to bring a Froggie back, that’s okay by me. But just one. The fuel situation is going to be pretty tight even with our reserve tank.’

  ‘Your flying gear is in that hut,’ Patton said. ‘So I’ll wish you good luck. I look forward to hearing how it went.’

  Brune showed James how to put on the gear, and his mae west. ‘You ever had to use one of these?’ James asked.

  ‘No, sir. It was a hard landing where I was concerned.’

  ‘You mean you’ve been shot down?’

  ‘The old Gladiator just wasn’t fast enough for a 109. If I’d had a Spit, now... But they were saving those, even back in the winter.’

  ‘You were hit in France?’

  ‘That’s right, sir.’

  ‘But you survived.’

  ‘Well, in a manner of speaking. When I came out of hospital they told me I was down to this lot. Reaction’s shot, you see.’ He gestured at the rather flimsy-looking upper-wing monoplane they were approaching across the tarmac. ‘Still, it’s better than nothing, and as the used car salesmen say, it’ll get you there and back.’

  An orderly was holding the door for them, and they climbed into the fuselage, having to crawl over the various bags and boxes that coated the floor. There was no way of telling which were the explosives, but James didn’t suppose it really mattered until they got there. Supposing they got there. ‘Will it fly with this load?’ he asked as they reached the flight deck and strapped themselves in.

  ‘She’ll fly, all right, if we can get her off the deck.’

  ‘What happens if you can’t get her up?’

  ‘Be positive, sir.’

  A ground crew spun the propeller, just as James remembered from films like The Dawn Patrol. The engine spluttered but did not fire.

  ‘Hear the one about the lady pilot who backed into her aircraft propeller?’ Brune asked.

  James managed to unclench his teeth. ‘No.’

  ‘Dis-ast-er. Haw, haw, haw. Get it?’

  The propeller had been swung again, and the engine spluttered into life. The ground crew jumped aside, Brune gave the thumbs-up sign, and the aircraft taxied across the parking apron to the end of the runway. Brune put on his earphones and engaged a distant voice in some incomprehensible exchanges regarding wind speed and direction, and a moment later they were rolling down the runway, slowly gathering speed. Brune watched his air speed indicator, then brought his yoke back. For a moment nothing happened. ‘Come on, you silly cow,’ he muttered.

  James watched what appeared to be a perimeter fence rushing at them. What a way to go, he thought. Then the nose lifted, and they cleared the fence by a few feet.

  ‘Gotcha!’ Brune said. ‘Well, sir, that’s the hard part over.’ James waited for his stomach to drop back into place. ‘What about coming back down?’

  ‘Piece of cake, if it’s reasonably flat.’

  ‘And the bit in between?’

  ‘You can sleep if you like.’

  ‘Thank you. What the hell is that?’ It was dark now, and away to their right there were flashing lights.

  ‘Jerry’s early tonight. We’ll have some overhead in a few minutes.’

  ‘Dropping bombs?’

  ‘That’s what they do best.’

  ‘We’re underneath them. What happens - ’

  ‘You do think about the oddest things, sir. That is one question to which we are never going to have the answer. So why ask it?’

  *

  ‘What time is it?’ Amalie asked.

  Liane peered at her watch. ‘Ten past one.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we light the flares?’

  ‘They said one forty-five. Are you all right?’

  ‘Of course I’m all right.’ But her voice was trembling. As they were sitting against each other, Liane knew that her entire body was trembling. She supposed it was tension more than actual fear, and after what Amalie had been through she could not be blamed for being perpetually tense.

  Jules crawled towards her. As Moulin could no longer move very quickly, he was in nominal command of the reception party. ‘You think they are coming?’

  ‘I have no doubt of it.’

  ‘You know them?’

  ‘Yes. I know them.’ Him, she thought. How can one know a man after two days, even if those days had included a fuck? She had not intended to know him at all. He had been different, and amusing, and she had been excited at the thought of Amalie getting married. Even a little dejected that it had not been her? She would never admit that, even to herself. But James had definitely been no more than an episode. She had been genuine in her invitation for him to look her up next time he was in Paris, but she had never expected it to happen, even had the French army not collapsed so dramatically. But now he was sending weapons to help her! Amalie had listened to the wireless conversation, and had told her he had sounded quite overcome at the news that she was alive. Well, she thought, it was nice to know that she had made an impression. She looked at her watch. ‘Time.’

  Jules crawled away to where Etienne and the other six men were waiting. These now hurried from torch to torch, setting them alight; the flames flared in the breeze drifting through the shallow valley. Liane peered into the gloom; the lights would only bum for half an hour. ‘I see it,’ Amalie said.

  A moment later the aircraft could clearly be seen, slotted between
the mountains to either side, sinking slowly to the ground. Liane found she was holding her breath. The approach was accurate enough, but the pilot would have only his altimeter to tell him how far above the ground he was. Yet there was no hesitation. The Lysander dropped to the ground, bounced once or twice, and then rolled to a halt not fifty feet from where she stood.

  Instantly the Frenchmen ran forward. The two women followed more slowly, and Liane stopped when she saw the big man climbing down from the aircraft. Even in the darkness there could be no doubt who he was, but he was the last person she had expected to see. ‘That’s Captain Barron,’ Amalie said. ‘I told you. He’s Pierre’s contact in England.’

  ‘I remember Captain Barron.’ Liane went forward.

  ‘Parlez-vous Anglais?’ James was asking, and then saw her. Thank God! Liane...’

  ‘James!’ She embraced him, kissed him on both cheeks. ‘We did not expect you to come in person.’

  ‘Did you really expect me to stay away, once I knew...well...’

  She stared at him. My God, she thought. He is still carrying a torch. But there was no time for that. ‘Tell us what we must do.’

  He returned her gaze for several seconds before replying. ‘Get the plane unloaded. Then we’d appreciate a hand in turning it.’

  Brune had now also climbed down. ‘You know this lady, sir?’

  ‘Yes,’ James said. ‘I know her. Liane de Gruchy, Flying Officer Brune.’

  Brune shook hands. ‘My pleasure, mademoiselle. But could we make it a quick job? We need to be out in the bay by dawn.’

  ‘Of course. But would it not be safer to remain here for the day?’

  ‘Here?’ Brune looked from left to right.

  ‘My people will camouflage your machine with branches, and stand guard over it. We intend to leave the munitions here anyway. There is no point in carrying them up the mountain just to have to bring them down again.’

  ‘Well...’ Brune looked at James.

  ‘I think that is an excellent idea,’ James said.

  ‘You’re the boss, sir. But let’s get her unloaded.’

  The Frenchmen were already passing boxes down from the aircraft, unable to resist the temptation to open them and look inside; they exclaimed in delight as they uncovered the hand grenades and automatic pistols, and even four tommy-guns. ‘Chicago comes to France,’ Amalie remarked.

  James had not noticed her before. Now he embraced her. ‘Amalie, my dear girl. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ Amalie said.

  James didn’t know what to make of her tone, and looked at Liane, but as she didn’t comment, he asked, ‘Do you people know how to use this stuff?’

  ‘They’re anxious to have a go.’

  ‘And what about the gelignite?’

  ‘That too.’

  ‘But they haven’t used it before?’

  ‘Well, no. Blowing things up is not a usual peacetime activity.’

  ‘But you have an explosives expert?’

  ‘Of course. At our headquarters.’

  ‘He and I need to have a talk. But for God’s sake tell them to be careful, or we are all going to be just a hole in the ground.’

  Liane gave instructions, and the boxes of explosives were carefully removed from the plane and carried into the shade of the trees bordering the improvised runway. ‘Now where do we go?’ James asked.

  ‘We stay here until daybreak. There is coffee. Not good, but drinkable, and it should still be quite hot.’

  ‘But... daybreak?’

  ‘We cannot climb the mountain in the dark. Daylight is perfectly safe. Nobody dares interfere with us.’ She led the way into the trees, where they had been camped while waiting for the plane. Here was food and thermoses of coffee. Brune and Amalie joined them.

  James sat beside Liane. There was so much he wished to ask her, say to her, do to her, but she was clearly preoccupied. Nor could he glean any inkling as to whether or not she wished to invoke the past. So he asked, ‘Why do we have to go up the mountain? Your explosives man should be down here.’

  ‘I wish you to meet our leader.’

  ‘Moulin?’

  ‘That is right. Do you remember him?’

  ‘Very well. What exactly are your plans?’

  ‘We are going to blow up the Paris-Bordeaux railway.’

  ‘With what objective?’

  ‘Why, to destroy it. It is a major link.’

  ‘But the Germans will simply repair it.’

  ‘Of course. But it will let them know, let the world know, that there are Frenchmen, and women, who are prepared to fight, no matter how they have been betrayed by their government.’

  ‘And to die?’

  ‘If necessary. But there is no need for us to die.’

  ‘You’ll be very lucky if none of you do. And you understand that there will be reprisals?’

  ‘That has to be accepted.’

  ‘Innocent men, maybe.’

  ‘You brought us the goods. Are you now telling me we must not use them?’

  He held her hand. ‘I just want to be sure you have considered every aspect of what you are planning.’

  ‘We have. Now get some sleep. We have a long climb ahead of us.’

  *

  Sleep was impossible, with Liane in touching distance. But he dared not do so. She had changed from his memory of her. Presumably any woman would change after undergoing what had happened to her. His problem was that he did not know if the memory he had, of such an utter hedonist, careless of either yesterday or tomorrow, was in the least accurate. She had revealed, briefly, a serious side of her character during the drive north. Yet even without make-up or nail varnish, wearing pants and blouse which had seen better days, her hair almost invisible beneath a bandanna, she remained the most exciting woman he had ever known. Would she agree to come out with him? But he knew she would never leave Amalie. Then would Brune feel able to take them both and still get back to England?

  He was glad to have a full day to work on it. Brune elected to remain in the valley with his aircraft and two of the Frenchmen, and the store of weapons and explosives. There was little time for conversation on the climb, which took them until noon, while James reflected that he would almost immediately have to begin the return journey. ‘You understand,’ Liane warned, ‘that Jean is not the man you will remember. He was most savagely tortured by the Gestapo.’

  A cue. ‘Are any of us the people we remember from that dinner party?’ She glanced at him, then resumed climbing.

  But Moulin was certainly pleased to see him; he clasped his hands and embraced him. ‘It is good to be all working together,’ he croaked.

  ‘Absolutely,’ James agreed. ‘Now, sir, what I really need to do is have a chat with your explosives expert.’

  Moulin looked at Liane. ‘I will handle the explosives,’ she said.

  ‘You said you knew nothing about them.’

  ‘So tell me what I need to know. We have an hour.’

  ‘An hour? Good God! You can’t learn how to handle explosives in an hour. Have you ever used a detonator or a trip line or a remote control?’

  ‘I do not know what you are speaking of. I intend to place the explosive on the track and wait for the train to run over it.’

  ‘And hope that it will explode. Besides hoping that it will not have already been found. The Germans will certainly maintain patrols along the tracks of all major lines.’

  ‘You are determined to raise difficulties. You have brought us what we need. We are grateful. Now you must let us get on with our business.’

  They gazed at each other. He knew she was as uncertain of her emotions as himself. But the idea already half formed in his mind was slowly taking shape. She would never agree to come with him, not at this moment, but afterwards... Supposing she survived. It was his business to make sure of that. Or go out with her in a blaze of glory.

  ‘It happens to be my business too,’ he said quietly. ‘I am responsible for the success, as
I will be held responsible for the failure, of this mission. And without an explosives expert it is bound to fail. Therefore I will carry out the business for you. And with you.’

  ‘You are such an expert?’

  ‘I have been trained in the use of explosives, yes.’ Amalie clapped her hands.

  Liane looked at him for several seconds. Then she looked at Moulin. ‘If that is the major’s decision,’ Moulin said, ‘we should be grateful for his assistance.’

  ‘Do you intend to take command?’ Liane asked.

  ‘Yes. With deference to your command of your men, and your local knowledge.’

  ‘Well, then,’ she said. ‘We had better get started.’

  *

  Brune rubbed his nose. ‘That’s a turn-up for the book. How long do you reckon, sir?’

  James looked at Liane. ‘Three days to the line, three days back.’

  ‘So if you were to return one week tonight,’ James suggested.

  ‘With respect, sir, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to. The brass hadn’t anticipated this development. I’m not sure they’ll go along with it.’

  ‘You mean they’d write me off.’

  ‘Well, sir... but if I don’t go back...’

  ‘They’ll write you off as well.’

  ‘If we don’t turn up tomorrow they’ll decide we’ve been nobbled. So when we do turn up, in a week’s time, they’ll be relieved. Mind you, I’m not saying they’ll be pleased. Unless...’

  ‘We have had a whopping success. All right, Flying Officer. I will give you a command to remain here with your aircraft until this operation has been completed, whether successfully or not. Give me your log book, and I’ll put that in writing. That way, only one of us can be cashiered.’

  He wondered how Rachel would take the news that he had gone missing.

  *

  ‘You are taking a great risk,’ Liane said as the little band walked into the night; there were four Frenchmen, commanded by Jules, and including Etienne, James and herself — she had refused to allow Amalie to accompany them. Now that they were leaving the shelter of the mountains they had to reverse their tactics; in a day’s time they would have crossed the border into German-occupied territory.

  ‘No more than you or your people.’