Partisan

by Christopher Nicole

  She rolled away from him, and a few moments later he heard her begin to snore, very softly and gently, and entirely femininely.

  *

  The following morning Tony located the surgeon, and persuaded him to come to the hut and look at Sandrine’s feet. The camp was a hum of somewhat depressing energy. More recruits had come in overnight, all with tales of death and destruction, and still very little order was being achieved. Men and women stood around in groups, arguing, discussing, asking after relatives; children played and wailed; dogs growled and occasionally fought over scraps of food. While Elena, not unnaturally, was feeling increasingly depressed.

  ‘When are you going to get me out of here?’ she begged.

  ‘We’re working on it, believe me,’ he said.

  At least she seemed to be on quite good terms with her fellow prisoners.

  The doctor examined Sandrine’s feet. ‘These are healing very well,’ he said. ‘Can you put on your boots?’

  ‘I haven’t tried,’ Sandrine said.

  ‘Then let us see.’ He re-bandaged the flesh – which was now more discoloured than cut or swollen – then eased the first boot over the toes. Sandrine made a face but said nothing. ‘There.’ He laced the boot. ‘Tell me when it is too tight.’

  ‘Now,’ Sandrine said.

  He tied the laces, then fitted the other boot. ‘Stand up.’

  Sandrine struggled to her feet.

  ‘Move around. Stamp your feet.’

  Biting her lip, she obeyed.

  ‘Is it painful?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That is in the mind. You must try to use them as much as possible.’

  ‘How far would you say she should walk, doctor?’ Tony asked.

  ‘Oh, well, one needs to be careful. Anyway, there is nowhere to walk to right this minute, eh? Just make sure she spends as much time as is comfortable on her feet.’

  ‘Thank you. Tell me, doctor, your name wouldn’t be Dukic, by any chance?’

  ‘No, no. I am Slivnic. Do you know Dukic? But obviously you do not, or you would not have supposed I could be he.’

  ‘I know his wife.’

  Slivnic raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Mrs Dukic helped us to escape from Belgrade,’ Tony explained. ‘It was she who first tended to Mademoiselle Fouquet’s feet. Very successfully, it seems.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Helene would have done that. She was a nurse before she married Josef.’

  Tony nodded. ‘She told me.’

  ‘And she has survived the Germans?’

  ‘She had survived them, three days ago. But three days ago they had only just arrived. She wanted me to tell her husband this, if I came across him. Do you know where he is?’

  Slivnic shook his head. ‘He could be anywhere. He could be dead.’

  ‘Well, if you do meet up with him, will you give him his wife’s message?’

  ‘Of course. But I will only meet up with him if he comes to this camp. And if he does that, you can give him the message yourself.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  Slivnic went off.

  ‘You need to be careful what you say,’ Sandrine admonished.

  ‘Point taken. How far is it to your brother’s village, Ivkov?’

  ‘From here? Maybe twenty miles.’

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘I can walk twenty miles,’ Sandrine said. ‘For a hot bath.’

  ‘I will carry you, mademoiselle,’ Ivkov said.

  ‘I was sure you would. When do we leave?’

  ‘Tonight,’ Tony told her.

  *

  But immediately after their midday meal there was an immense stir throughout the camp as an aircraft swept over the hills and along the valley before disappearing round the next peaks.

  ‘Do you think he saw us?’ Ivkov asked.

  ‘If he didn’t, he must be blind,’ Tony replied.

  Mihailovic obviously held the same opinion; half an hour later all officers were summoned to the headquarters tent.

  ‘We should disperse our people,’ Colonel Zardov said.

  ‘Will we ever get them back together again?’ asked someone else.

  ‘What is your opinion, Captain Davis?’ the general asked.

  ‘That we should evacuate the valley, certainly, sir. But endeavour to keep in being as an army.’

  Mihailovic stroked his beard. ‘We will make preparations to move tomorrow morning,’ he said.

  ‘Can we delay that long?’ Zardov asked.

  ‘Think of the number of valleys that plane has flown over,’ the general said. ‘So in this valley he saw what he might consider an accumulation of refugees. The Germans know that many people fled Belgrade. They will expect them to congregate. There is no suggestion, from the air, that this is a military encampment.’ He gave a sour smile. ‘There is not much on the ground to suggest this, either. So that pilot will return to his base and report, and his superiors will decide whether or not to take action. No decision will be made before tomorrow. If we move out at dawn, we will be away before they return.’

  ‘Do you not suppose they will be able to follow our movements from the air, sir?’ Matovic asked.

  ‘So we may have to keep moving for a while. I have never supposed we would be able to sit on our asses in relative comfort forever. I think there is a more serious possibility that we have not yet considered: that the Germans may be satisfied with the grip they have taken on the country, and are now intending to attack us here in the mountains. That plane was a reconnaissance, possibly for considerable ground forces. Colonel Zardov, I would like patrols sent out to discover what is happening. They should cover an area of at least twenty miles to the east and north, to ascertain if there are any troop movements towards us.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Zardov said. ‘Now you can earn your keep, Captain Davis. I will give you a platoon of the Fourth Regiment of Foot. They are your friends, eh?’

  *

  There was nothing for it, and at least Tony had his revolver returned to him. He hurried back to the hut to put Sandrine and Ivkov in the picture.

  ‘But . . . will you be back by tonight?’ Sandrine asked.

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘Then—’

  ‘We shall have to postpone our departure. But the whole camp is going to move out tomorrow morning. That will be our opportunity to slip away.’

  ‘With Elena?’

  ‘Of course with Elena.’ He glanced at Ivkov, who, as usual, was regarding Sandrine with the expression of a starving man contemplating a large steak. ‘Just remember that I am coming back, old friend,’ he said.

  To his pleasure, his second-in-command was again Matanovic, who also seemed pleased to be reunited with the British officer, although he and his men were obviously aware of the previous day’s dispute.

  ‘I hope your lady is well, sir,’ Matanovic ventured.

  ‘She is as well as can be expected.’

  ‘I would be happy to vouch for her, sir. For the way she fought against the Germans.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant. I may just need to take you up on that.’

  He had been given a map of the area they were to reconnoitre, as well as a pair of binoculars and a flashlight for when it grew dark – which it very rapidly did as the afternoon closed in, with heavy black clouds rolling up from the south.

  ‘That is very bad weather,’ Matanovic said. ‘When it rains in the mountains it can be very bad. There can be flash floods.’

  Tony had to assume that Mihailovic was aware of that possibility. On the plus side, heavy cloud cover and rain tomorrow morning would limit the possibility of a Luftwaffe attack.

  The patrol – ten men including Matanovic and Tony – made their way through a succession of shallow valleys between the peaks, seeing and hearing nothing until just before dusk. Then one of the soldiers held up his hand. ‘Listen!’

  He obviously had very sharp ears, but a few moments later they could all hear the noise: the throb of aircraft engines.

&n
bsp; ‘Take cover,’ Tony said.

  They crouched amongst the heather, and then realised the aircraft were not looking for them. Now they saw a good dozen planes, flying in formation, in the direction of the encampment.

  Like so many others before him, Mihailovic had made the mistake of assuming that the Nazi war machine needed time to think before acting.

  Chapter Six – Communists

  ‘Where are they going, sir?’ Matanovic asked.

  ‘Where do you suppose, Sergeant?’

  ‘Will they be able to find the camp in the dark?’

  ‘Very easily,’ Tony said, remembering the total absence of any blackout precautions.

  ‘Should we warn them?’

  ‘Those planes will be there long before we can get back. But we will go back, just as fast as we can.’

  The two women were there!

  They hurried, although in the darkness it was not always easy to find the way. But they were only some ten miles away from the valley, and fifteen minutes later they heard the sounds of explosions as bombs were dropped. Tony tried not to let himself imagine the scene, but he knew there would be complete pandemonium, sheer terror . . . and a great deal of death and injury.

  Once again he found himself thinking of Sandrine rather than Elena, of that pale wisp of utterly beautiful humanity, lying there shattered and broken.

  ‘Get a move on,’ he told his men.

  *

  It was eleven o’clock before they regained the valley. The planes had only been overhead for a few minutes, but they had left a good deal behind them. As the patrol climbed over the hills and looked down, they saw a mass of fires, and heard a continuing chorus of misery.

  ‘Find your regiment,’ Tony told Matanovic, and had to stop himself from adding, if it still exists.

  He hurried down the slope, tripping over more than one dead body. There were fewer live ones than he had expected. Most of the people had fled, probably irrationally and without orders, to the supposed safety of the surroundings hills. As had most of the animals; even the dogs were gone. There were a few wounded, sitting or lying, groaning and moaning and crying out for help, but no one was giving them any. There were also several officers, roaming through the flickering gloom, shouting commands which were being totally ignored. Of Mihailovic and his staff there was no sign.

  He found his way to the hut, shone his torch into the interior . . . and gazed at the faces of Ivkov, Sandrine and Elena. Elena had regained her satchel and thus her pistol, which was pointing at him.

  ‘Holy Hallelujah!’ he said.

  ‘Tony!’ Elena shouted, getting to her feet and throwing her arms round him.

  ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘The guard ran away when the bombing started. So I and the others forced the door.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘I don’t know. They went off. I came here.’

  ‘I made the ladies stay,’ Ivkov said proudly. ‘I knew you would come back.’

  ‘It was terrible,’ Sandrine said. ‘The bombs were all around us. I thought we were going to die. How we were not hit is a miracle.’

  ‘It was not as bad as it was in Belgrade,’ Elena pointed out.

  ‘I thought we were going to die then, too.’

  ‘Well, let’s get out of here while we can,’ Tony said.

  ‘Where can we go?’ Elena asked.

  ‘To Ivkov’s brother. Right?’ he asked the bath-keeper.

  Ivkov scratched his head. ‘If you think that is our best option, sir.’

  ‘I don’t think it is our best option,’ Tony said. ‘But right now it happens to be our only option. You lead us, Ivkov.’

  ‘What is the difficulty?’ Elena asked.

  ‘His brother is a Communist,’ Sandrine explained. ‘And lives in a Communist village.’

  Elena made a whistling sound. ‘You mean they are outlaws.’

  ‘Perhaps not now,’ Sandrine said, always happy to become involved in an argument. ‘They were outlawed by the government, but now there is no government, so—’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ Tony said. ‘I don’t care if their head man is called Jesse James. They’re our only immediate hope of survival. Let’s go.’

  Ivkov was already outside of the hut, waiting. ‘We need to go to the north-west,’ he said. ‘But . . .’

  Tony studied the stars; the clouds had not yet formed overhead. ‘That way.’

  ‘How do you know this, sir?’

  ‘Before this damned business started I used to sail boats. One of the things you learn to do as a sailor, even an amateur, is to read the stars.’

  ‘But how can the stars tell you where my brother’s village is, sir?’

  ‘They can’t. What they do is always point in the same direction. See that big one? That is called the North Star. It points to the north. So if we keep it on our right hand, we are travelling north-west.’

  ‘What a wonderful thing,’ Ivkov commented. ‘We must cross the stream.’

  He led them down the hill.

  ‘Shit!’ Sandrine commented as she tripped and fell to her hands and knees. ‘What was that?’

  ‘A dead body,’ Tony told her. ‘There are a lot of them about.’ He stooped to help her up, and tripped over something himself, only this was hard. He fumbled in the darkness, and picked up a rifle. ‘Well, glory be.’ Another fumble located the bandolier. He stood up. ‘You ever fired one of these, Ivkov?’

  ‘Oh yes, sir. When I was a young man I served in the army. Well, I had to.’

  ‘Then here’s a present for you.’ He held out the rifle and bandolier.

  ‘Oh, sir!’ Ivkov took them as if they were made of gold, slung them both on his shoulder, and positively strutted down the hill.

  ‘Now you have made him happy,’ Elena said, squeezing Tony’s arm. ‘Tell me about this Jesse James.’

  ‘Later,’ he promised. ‘Mind how you go.’

  They had reached the stream. He helped Sandrine down the bank – Elena had already stepped in – and she gave a squeal of pleasure.

  ‘Oh, that feels so good. Wait . . .’

  They had reached the centre, where the fast-flowing water was about thigh deep, and she raised her torn skirt to her waist.

  ‘I could stand here forever. Ooh . . . what . . .’

  Tony caught her before she fell over, knocked off balance by a floating body that had bumped into her.

  ‘Shit!’ she commented as he helped her out of the water on the other side of the stream.

  ‘People,’ Ivkov said.

  Actually, there was only one person, stumbling through the darkness, peering at them.

  ‘You!’

  ‘Captain Matovic,’ Tony said. ‘Bit of a mess, eh? Did the general survive?’

  ‘The general has evacuated to the hills.’

  ‘I bet he has. Well, give him my regards.’

  ‘He has left me behind to round up stragglers. I will give you directions.’

  ‘Forget it.’

  ‘If you do not rejoin the general, you will be classified as a deserter.’ He waved his arm. ‘All of you.’

  ‘I am not a member of the Yugoslav army,’ Tony reminded him. ‘Neither is Mr Ivkov. Neither are these ladies. So—’

  ‘Ladies?’ Matovic came closer to peer at them. He was a sorry sight, for he had lost his cap and his tunic was torn and dirty, presumably from rolling on the ground to shelter from the bombs. But he still had a revolver holster on his belt. ‘That woman is under arrest!’

  ‘Now don’t start that again,’ Tony said. ‘She is coming with us.’

  ‘She is under arrest. She—’

  ‘Ivkov,’ Tony suggested.

  Ivkov licked his lips, then swung his rifle butt. It crashed into the back of Matovic’s head. The officer fell to his knees, and then on to his face. He did not utter a sound.

  ‘Shit!’ Sandrine commented.

  Tony bent over him. ‘I hope you didn’t kill him.’

  ‘No, no
, sir. I did not hit him hard enough. But he will have a headache when he wakes up.’

  ‘And a bad temper,’ Elena suggested. ‘But I am grateful, Ivkov.’

  ‘I obeyed the captain,’ Ivkov said, at once proudly and with some embarrassment.

  ‘Our business,’ Tony said, determined not to be irritated by the tendency of his little group to engage in irrelevant conversation at the wrong time, ‘is not to be here when he wakes up.’

  *

  They made their way through the remainder of the shattered encampment, stepping round fires, stumbling in and out of shallow craters, encountering other people – but no one else attempted to stop them or inquire about them.

  The heat of the fires faded as they climbed into the hills to the north.

  ‘When do we eat?’ Sandrine asked.

  ‘You mean, what do we eat,’ Elena corrected.

  ‘I am so hungry.’

  ‘We’re only twenty miles from Ivkov’s brother’s village,’ Tony reminded them. ‘There we will be fed. Eh, Ivkov?’

  Ivkov grunted.

  Only twenty miles, Tony reflected. In terms of his own personal fitness and experience this was no great distance, although soon enough his leg began to ache. But none of the others was in the least used to such exertion, and there was also the matter of Sandrine’s feet. Soon she was complaining of the pain, and they had to rest regularly; by dawn Tony and Ivkov were again sharing the load of carrying her.

  ‘If you were a horse we’d have shot you by now,’ Elena pointed out.

  ‘If I was a horse I would have kicked you by now,’ Sandrine retorted.

  Again Tony had the impression that he was presiding over the end of a beautiful friendship, although the exchange had been good-humoured enough.

  He was glad to be able to call a halt at dawn to survey the situation. He knew they had been descending steadily, and were now in the middle of what appeared to be a series of low hills. Below them was another valley, through which bubbled an especially inviting mountain stream.

  ‘Water!’ Sandrine cried. ‘Oh, let’s get down there. I am so thirsty. And I so want to wash.’

  ‘Be patient.’ Tony had retained the binoculars given to him the previous night, and he used these to survey the ground beneath them. The stream certainly looked tempting – he was as thirsty as anyone – but just in front of it he could make out a roughly paved road. He handed the glasses to Ivkov. ‘What do you make of that?’