I returned to the Kommandant’s office and couldn’t see any sign of my benefactor, so I sat down and waited. After about twenty minutes, when my anxiety was starting to mount, Major Konrad Bahm descended the stairs and walked over to where I was sitting.
‘Are you ready to go Oberleutnant?’ he asked me.
‘Yes. There is nothing to keep me here, in fact, I will be glad to get away from all this bureaucracy,’ I replied.
We walked towards the harbour and eventually found his driver who was patiently waiting for him. As we approached the car the wail of sirens commenced.
‘Let’s get out of here; there is a raid on the way.’ He started to run the last few meters to the car.
We jumped into the car, and he told the driver to get out of the port area sharpish. As we sped up the hill out of the town, we heard the ‘thrump’ of bombs exploding in the port area. I was back in the war where death was not far away. Eventually, we were out on the open road with the bombs left behind us.
I noticed the Major pick up a sub-machine gun which he cocked and held on his lap. Seeing the alarm on my face he explained.
‘We have to travel down the whole length of the Cherbourg peninsula, and the hedges are exceptionally high. The French Resistance is active in the area, so I want to be prepared in case we are attacked.’
I thought to myself: We don’t actually stand a chance if the French Resistance fighters are hiding behind the hedges they will ambush us, and we won’t see them before a hail of bullets hits the car and wipes us out.
I was now more scared than I had ever been in my life and wished that he had not mentioned the possibility of attack to me.
Fortunately we weren’t attacked, and we reached the airfield at Caen safely at around eight o’clock. The Major had his orderly show me my accommodation, and I joined him for dinner in the mess. He introduced me to the other pilots who were sitting around having a drink after their dinner.
One of the first facts that I was told was that the squadron was spending very few hours in the air as there was a severe shortage of fuel. Any fuel that was available was being stock piled in case the area was attacked. Flying was limited to just keeping the pilots’ skills at an acceptable level.
As an experienced 109 pilot I was put in charge of training the recent recruits, so I got more flying in than most. The greatest advantage was that we didn’t fly combat missions, so the threat to me personally was minimised. The nearest we came to danger was when we flew sorties to attack enemy shipping in the Channel, but these occasions were few and far between as they used a lot of our precious fuel. The biggest problem that we had as officers was maintaining a high level of morale. The pilots had joined the Luftwaffe because they liked to fly and they wanted to help the cause of the Fatherland. They were now based at an airfield in France, where it was too dangerous to go out into the town and where they were grounded because of a lack of fuel. Boredom set in, and morale plummeted. The only alternative to their present predicament was to volunteer to go to the Eastern front and fly against the Russians. There wasn’t a long list of applicants wanting to transfer.
The Major wasn’t too hard a taskmaster, so I found it the perfect place to contemplate what steps I needed to take to fulfil the main part of my mission. I somehow had to get into the squadron who would be flying the new jet engined fighter.
While I was settling in to my new squadron, I was unaware that I had been seen in Cherbourg on the day that I had arrived from England. I had been spotted going between the various offices trying to get my papers.
Chapter 42
Francette Tranquet:
Francette’s heart missed a beat when she rounded the corner and saw the German checkpoint fifty meters ahead. She was cycling to Cherbourg to gather information on the numbers and types of vessels that the Germans had stationed there. It was too late to turn around as it would look highly suspicious and the motor cyclist she saw parked beside the checkpoint would easily catch them. She would have to brazen it out and hope that her forged papers would get her through.
She cycled up to the barrier and offered her papers to the soldier at the checkpoint.
‘Where are you going?’ the soldier asked.
‘I am going with my brother to Cherbourg, to see my uncle who is dying.’ she replied.
‘Where do you live?’
‘We live in Carentan where my brother is a fisherman.’
The soldier carefully inspected her papers to ensure that they were not false. She had used them at other checkpoints before, and they had been accepted, so she was confident that they would pass inspection here.
‘You know that Cherbourg is a prohibited area so I really shouldn’t let you through.’
‘I was aware of that, but I thought that you would allow me through as my uncle is so seriously ill,’ Francette replied.
He went over to his superior officer who was sitting in a staff car parked nearby and she saw them talking for a few minutes. They looked over at Michel and her, a number of times, as they worked out what to do. Finally, the soldier came back to them.
‘The Oberleutnant says that I can let you through, but I must give you a special twelve hour pass which will expire at ten o’clock this evening. You must be out of the area by then.’
‘Thank you, I am extremely grateful. I will make sure that I will be out of Cherbourg by 20:00 hours this evening.’ Francette added in a contrite manner.
They drew up a pass to cover the two of them, stamped it, and gave it to them. They then hopped on their bicycles and cycled away from the checkpoint towards Cherbourg, an immensely relieved pair of Resistance fighters.
It was just over a month since Francette had landed in France. She had felt extremely frightened when she had left Markus and Major Richards at the airfield in Weston-super-Mare, but had put on a brave face for Markus’s benefit. Getting on board that tiny plane made her realise how dangerous her mission was.
It was an hour and a half later that the pilot indicated to her that they were in the area where he was expected to land. As they flew low over the area, there was the flash of a light from the ground. The pilot flashed a light on the underside of the aircraft to indicate to the reception committee that this was the plane that they were expecting. The next thing that Francette saw was a row of lanterns being lit on the ground, and suddenly there was a landing strip. The pilot made his approach and expertly landed the aircraft. It was extremely bumpy, but they were safe, and the Lysander was undamaged and would be able to take off.
She was helped from the plane with her small suitcase and the wooden box containing her radio. She was led from the area by two men, the plane then took off, and the lights were extinguished. The whole operation hadn’t taken much more than ten minutes.
She learnt from the two men who had met her and who were now taking her back to Carentan that the field where they had landed was close to a little village called Sainteny. They came to the gate that led from the field onto a road where there were three bicycles. One of the men took Francette’s suitcase with her personal belongings while she strapped the box with the radio to the carrier of her bicycle. She just hoped that they wouldn’t come across any Germans on their way to Carentan. She was told that there was a curfew in operation, and nobody was supposed to be out after nine o’clock at night.
Luckily they didn’t encounter any of the enemy on the way, and they reached a fisherman’s cottage on the other side of Carentan without any problems just before dawn. Francette had settled in remarkably quickly in the month that followed her arrival. She spent most of her days confined to the cottage and anybody that she needed to talk to came to see her rather than vice versa. It turned out that Michel owned the cottage and that he wasn’t married, so there was only the two of them living there. She sent radio messages back to England once a week. She had been told to keep her radio contact
s to a minimum unless there was a serious emergency as the Germans were capable of tracking down transmitting points.
The only alarm happened one night when Michel drank rather too much brandy and became very passionate. Francette had to bring her combat training into play which greatly surprised Michel as he ended up flat on his back on the floor with a heavily bruised rib cage. He didn’t try it again and, in fact, warned his Resistance friends: ‘Don’t try it on with Francette.’
With their twelve hour pass safely in their possession, they successfully negotiated two more checkpoints before arriving at the port area of Cherbourg. They found a Boulangerie on one of the quays where they were able to buy some croissants and coffee. Francette assessed the portion of the harbour that she could see from the Boulangerie, drawing up a list, in her mind, where the best viewing points would be. She would have to be extremely careful not to arouse the suspicion of the many German service personnel she saw wandering around.
As she was sitting there having her coffee, she suddenly froze. She spotted her Markus walking along the quay with a young naval officer. He had his Luftwaffe trousers on but he was wearing some type of tunic that she had never seen before. His head was bare, and he was looking weathered, like a fisherman. She ducked down behind a screen so as he wouldn’t see her.
What on earth was he doing in Cherbourg? He must have started his mission and have somehow arrived here. She could have bumped into him on the street and what a disaster that would have been. How good it was to see him again. He vanished up into the town leaving her heart fluttering.
Later on that day, she was on her way back from the area of the harbour where the fast patrol boats were moored, when she saw him again. He was walking this time with a senior officer; they got into a car and headed off out of the town. He heart beat faster again. What a pity that she couldn’t wave to him or let him know that she was here. It was painful just to ignore him.
She met Michel at the Boulangerie they had drunk coffee at earlier in the day as arranged. They jumped on their bicycles and started to ride up the hill out of Cherbourg. Just then the air raid sirens went off and they heard the whistle of bombs descending. Should they continue cycling or should they take shelter? They decided to keep going as their safest option. Their decision turned out to be correct as it was the port area that was being bombed.
Two hours later they arrived back in Carentan. Francette was in a great mood having seen her beloved Markus even if she hadn’t been able to talk to him. That glimpse of Markus had shown her that she had much deeper feelings for him than she had thought. There was now another reason why she must make sure that she survived this mission and got back to England to see him.
Chapter 43
Back to Markus:
I was talking to the Major in his office one day at the beginning of May when he was interrupted by a telephone call. I listened as he talked to the person on the other end of the line. From the side of the conversation that I could hear, it sounded as if someone was asking him to choose pilots for a new squadron.
When he put the phone down I asked him as casually as I could, ‘are they looking for pilots for something special?’
‘Yes, that was the Kommandant at Cherbourg asking me if I could let him have one or two experienced pilots for a special project in Germany. He said that he would give me six pilots who have just finished their training in return.’
‘What is the new project?’ I cheekily asked.
‘They are forming a new squadron at Leipheim to fly the new Me262 jet engine fighter.’
This was the moment that I had been waiting for, and it had just landed in my lap.
‘Do you think that I could be considered as a prospective pilot?’
‘I don’t want to lose you from my team, especially as I am receiving six raw pilots who will need to be made combat ready and you are the best person to train them.’
‘I would really love to apply for this new squadron if I could be spared,’ I pleaded.
‘I’ll think about it and let you know tomorrow morning.’
When I left the Major, he was looking a bit disconsolate. I, in turn, was feeling extremely excited as I was convinced I could persuade him to let me apply for the new squadron.
The following morning, he informed me that he had given my name to the Kommandant, and he was confident that my application would be considered.
Two days later I received orders to travel to Leipheim, in Germany, where I would undergo extensive tests, medical, physical and flying, to see if I was suitable.
The first problem that they had was with my height, however, when I explained that the way I had got around this problem in the past was to have a special seat made they relented on that one. Physically I passed all the tests with flying colours, and I was also medically in perfect working order with 20:20 vision.
The aircraft that I had to use for the flying tests had to be one that I was not familiar with. The fighter that they selected for me was the Messerschmitt Bf 110 E version. I had never flown one before, but after the problems I had to overcome when flying the 109, this was a lot easier. The biggest difference was that it was a twin engine fighter and was not as nimble as the 109. If I was to pass all the tests and be selected as a pilot for the Me262, I would have to fly the 110 like a pro.
The officer putting me through my paces flew with me as it was a three seater airplane. He gave me all sorts of tasks to complete while we were in the air. I never knew what he was going to ask me to do next as he gave me no warning. This included on one occasion stalling the engines, diving and then getting them, going again. He must have had complete faith in my ability as if we had plunged into the ground, he would have been killed with me, and the heavy fighter did not have dual controls. A pleasant thought!
I had three long days where my flying skills were tested to their limits. I noticed that the number of pilots being tested gradually got fewer as the week progressed, so presumably there was a high fall out rate and those no longer around had been sent back to their squadrons. On the Friday afternoon, I landed the Messerschmitt Bf 110 after a particularly tough session and was told through my headphones:
‘Well done Oberleutnant Bekker you have successfully passed and you are now a member of the squadron that will test fly the Me262. You have proved to me that you are an exceptional pilot. Congratulations.’
Out of the twenty pilots who had collected at Leipheim on the Tuesday evening, there were only four who celebrated with a drink that Friday evening. I had been focusing so much on what I was doing that I hadn’t noticed the high attrition rate. One pilot had crashed a 109 on landing and obviously he had failed, but I wasn’t aware why the others had been kicked out.
A thought crossed my mind: If I had not been skilful enough to pass the tests, what would have happened to my spying mission? It would have been over before it had begun.
I received a pleasant surprise for having been accepted as a test pilot. I was allowed to go home to Lubeck for a few days before returning to my squadron in France. I would have to report to my new role as a test pilot at the end of May. I hadn’t seen my mother and grandad for a long time so it would be nice to catch up with them.
Leipheim was in the southern part of Germany, so it was a long train journey through Nuremberg, where we had been for the Hitler Youth rally’s so many years ago, through Hanover and Hamburg and then finally on to Lubeck. I was mentally and physically exhausted after the few days of qualification, so I dozed a lot of the journey. There was very tight security on all the trains that I took and my papers were checked frequently even though I was in uniform. I arrived at 9:00 in the evening and by the time that I knocked on my mother’s front door it was almost 10:00 and she was in bed. What a surprise she got when she opened the door and saw me standing there.
‘Markus, oh how good to see you. I didn’t think that I would see yo
u again.’ She hugged me and broke down in tears.
‘I escaped from England and joined up with a squadron in France, and now I am going to be based at Leipheim in southern Germany. Sorry, but I had no way of letting you know.’
‘Come in, come in, Markus, you must be worn out after your journey.’
We went into the kitchen where my mother started to poke the fire.
‘Mum, don’t bother with the stove I am exhausted and will just eat some bread before I go to bed. Sleep is more valuable than food at this time.’
‘How is grandad, I am looking forward to seeing him in the morning?’
‘I have some unpleasant news for you Markus. I am afraid that he passed away about four months ago. We had a very severe winter, and he caught a bad cold which went to his chest. I went in one morning to the bakery and found him dead on the floor of the bakery. Thankfully, he went quickly and didn’t suffer at all.’
‘It must be terribly lonely for you here Mum without any of the family around. What has happened to the bakery?’
‘I am running it myself, with the help of Horst Bielenberg. He is a thirty year old man who was invalided out of the army after he had his leg blown off.’
‘I wish that I was in a position to help you, but I have to return to France next Wednesday. I will help while I am here.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me Markus. We have very little flour these days so we can’t bake much, and Horst is well able to cope.’
‘I take it that you heard about what happened to Chris?’
‘Yes, a letter from your father got through, and he explained everything, but maybe you can tell me more of the details when we have a chance to talk tomorrow.’
My mother got me out some bread although there wasn’t much to put on it. She gave me another hug and had another weep before we both headed upstairs to bed.
War Brothers Page 23
