Jubilee- Spies and Raiders

by Conor Bender

  Talia shook her head.

  “Bollocks.” Faraday checked his Webley. “Can your man drive them off or are we about to have a fight?”

  “I don’t know.” Talia peeked through the window. Her pulse quickened; she was terrified for Olivier.

  Faraday slowly moved so he could see out the window. Cutter was still talking to Amsel, but by the looks of it, it wasn’t going well.

  “This isn’t going to work. That SS prat knows.”

  “What would you have us do?”

  “Start shooting.”

  “Not yet.”

  “They will check the house. At that point we will be out of options.”

  Talia bit her lip, her finger hovering over the trigger of the Sten, eyes transfixed on Amsel.

  “Oh shit, they’re coming,” Faraday said as Amsel motioned to two of his men. He got into a low crouch and took aim with his pistol.

  ***

  The snap of a pistol round whizzing past Cutter made him jump. One of Amsel’s men collapsed to the ground, a crimson, bloody hole in his chest. Cutter quickly drew his pistol and took aim at the German nearest to him and fired two shots in quick succession. He was close enough that both found their mark.

  The German collapsed and Cutter scrambled back toward the house. As he did so, the Sten opened up, raking the half-track with withering fire. As Cutter got a hand on the door, he felt a concussive force hit him in the shoulder. The initial impact of it spun him slightly, and within milliseconds he started to feel blinding pain and realized he had been shot. He staggered through the doorway, ducked behind the entranceway, and took cover. He took a moment to control his breathing. He peeked around the corner, took aim at the nearest German, and fired. Then gunfire erupted from the right side of the cottage.

  ***

  Parker ducked at the sound of Faraday’s pistol. They had seen the Germans arrive in the half-track and had started to creep closer to the cottage. The high grass in the field was giving them good cover, and they were only a few hundred yards away.

  Parker looked around and spotted both Tarbor and Callum looking at him for instructions. “Tarbor, have your team lay down a base of fire! Callum, your team will assault on my mark! Covering fire!”

  “My team, let’s move! Reynolds, Devon, move in pairs!” Callum shouted and stood up.

  “Teach, get the Bren up! Allen, help me with the Boys gun!” Tarbor shouted as he worked the anti-tank gun, getting it ready to take out the half-track.

  Parker’s and Callum’s teams moved slowly up toward the cottage and took aim at the Germans as they moved. Parker spotted their officer and took a well-aimed shot and fired. The bullet grazed Amsel’s arm as he moved at the last second. He grimaced in pain and ducked behind the half-track.

  Parker ducked behind the low wall of the house and started to reload.

  “Teach is hit!” Allen shouted, as the Bren was silenced.

  “Get the Bren up!” Tarbor screamed, shoving him away. He finished preparing the Boys and took aim and pulled the trigger. The round penetrated the half-track through the engine block with an audible ping. Tarbor worked the bolt and took aim again, this time aiming at the driver’s seat, and fired. Satisfied that the half-track was down, he quickly went to check on Teach.

  Parker scrambled behind the corner of the cottage and took cover. Callum ducked behind him. “Reynolds, Devon, enter the back of the house. Make sure you announce yourself and watch your fire.”

  “Will do, Sergeant!” Devon doubled back behind the cottage.

  Magar peeked around the corner of the house and unloaded his Sten. “Sergeant, those Bosche are SS.”

  “I bloody hate the SS.”

  “I’m sure the feeling is mutual,” Parker said as he stuck his Thompson around the corner and fired blindly while Magar reloaded.

  ***

  Cutter strained his ears, confused by the new sounds of gunfire. He heard the back door open and quickly trained his pistol on the hallway leading to the kitchen.

  “Friendlies! British! Don’t shoot!” Reynolds called as he slowly moved through the hallway toward Cutter.

  Once Cutter saw who they were, he dropped his pistol. Reynolds duckwalked over to him and inspected his shoulder while Devon took up a firing position at the window.

  “Where the bloody hell have you been?” Cutter asked in annoyance as Reynolds probed his shoulder and applied a bandage.

  “Took the scenic route.”

  Cutter groaned in pain as Reynolds applied pressure to his shoulder, his tone changing. “Happy to see you.”

  “Much better.” Reynolds picked his rifle up and started to return fire through the window.

  “Talia, Faraday, commandos in the house!” Cutter turned to Devon. “Go upstairs; you’ll have a better angle.”

  Devon nodded and scurried up the stairs.

  Cutter picked his pistol back up and peeked around the edge of the door and resumed firing.

  A few minutes later the firefight ended.

  “Friendlies coming across!” Callum shouted, and he and Parker came around the corner of the house, guns trained on the half-track.

  “We got a live one!”

  Talia and Faraday made their way down the stairs and surveyed the first floor. The windows were shattered and the walls were full of bullet holes.

  Talia looked down at Cutter and dashed to his side.

  “I’m alright.” Cutter struggled and stood up. His shoulder felt like it was on fire, and was slick with blood. He felt a little light-headed as he negotiated the stairs outside and grabbed Talia’s arm to steady himself. He ambled up to Parker. “Who the bloody hell are you?”

  “Captain Parker, here to extract you. Identify yourself first.”

  “Arthur Cutter.” As he said his name, Cutter saw the look of shock on Talia’s face and couldn’t help but feel guilty about having never told her his real name.

  “Arthur Cutter?” Talia said the name slowly, as though she were trying on a new pair of shoes.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

  Talia hesitated for a moment but gave a small smile. “You look like an Arthur.”

  Parker looked at the pair of them in confusion. “Never mind, we’ll prove who you are later. You ready to go?”

  “You’re extracting me, an RAF pilot, and a French agent.”

  Parker hesitated but nodded as Faraday walked out of the house.

  “Who are you?”

  “Captain Parker, US Rangers.”

  “Christ, ’bout time you entered the war. I’m Squadron Leader Faraday. Get us out of here.”

  “Will do, sir. We’ve got a bit of walking to do and need to leave before we get cut off. So if you’ll follow us, we can get out of here.”

  Cutter nodded but paused a moment. He walked over to the other side of the half-track where Tarbor was standing over the wounded Obersturmführer Amsel. Blood and mud stained the Obersturmführer’s gray tunic. His hand covered a jagged hole in his shoulder where he had been shot, and his SS service cap sat unattended in the dust. Cutter looked down at the leering skull perched atop the cap’s visor. The taunting smile looking more like a twisted grimace. A heavy gust of wind picked up the cap and sent it flying into the field. Cutter watched with mild disinterest as it cartwheeled off. He knew he didn’t have much time, but part of him wanted to savor the moment, the one time he would ever be able to put a face and name to his enemy, a defeated enemy. There was something romantic about it, good overcoming evil. A part of Cutter, a piece he had locked away during the war, the boyish scholar, yearned to witness this conclusion. He crossed his arms and looked down at Amsel. For all his bluster the prancing peacock was beaten.

  “Well, how the tables have turned,” Cutter said softly in French as he stood over Amsel.

  Amsel looked up at Cutter in wide-eyed surprise. A combination of terror and fury filled his eyes. “You coward,” he spat, “Scurrying around here as a spy, too cowardly to fight man to man.”
>
  Cutter winced as he struggled down into a low crouch, his arm burning with every movement. He looked Amsel in the eye. A devil was getting his due, but the moment was bitter-sweet. Amsel had hurt a lot of people, and Durand’s fate was still unknown. “Being called a coward by you means as little to me as your life.” He looked up at Tarbor and gave him a nod. Tarbor moved back toward Parker and Callum.

  “Where’s Durand?”

  “What makes you think I’ll tell you?”

  Cutter didn’t hesitate; he aimed his pistol at Amsel’s knee and pulled the trigger. Amsel let out a howl of pain and swore up and down at Cutter in German.

  “I won’t ask again.”

  He looked up as Parker, Faraday, and Talia walked back around the half-track. Parker moved to stop Cutter from continuing the interrogation, but Faraday and Talia stopped him.

  “Ease up, lad, this needs to be done,” Faraday said, his voice calm but making it clear that it was an order. Parker grimaced in disgust and walked back to his team.

  Cutter nodded his thanks and turned his attention back to Amsel. “What happened to Durand?”

  “We spotted him loitering around our headquarters a number of days prior to when the RAF bombed it. We assumed he knew something and collected him.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “Enough.” Amsel grinned, blood coming down his chin. “My men killed your man Claude this morning. Your Resistance is broken, and your raid has failed.”

  Cutter looked up at Talia and saw tears forming in her eyes. “You’re lying.” She spat.

  “Why would I?”

  Talia frowned but did her best to stifle the hot tears she felt filling her eyes. She wouldn’t give Amsel the satisfaction in his last moments. Her parents, her brother, Francois, Durand, now Claude. . . she let out an anguished breath and looked over at Cutter. He was one of the last people she had, and she hardly knew him. That’s not true, she realized, as he looked at her in concern. She could tell his worry was genuine. For all his distancing and bottling up of his feelings, Talia could tell by the anxious look on his face that he cared for her. That feeling of loneliness and isolation she had first felt when Francois had been killed dulled as that realization dawned on her.

  She walked up next to Cutter and put a hand on his shoulder. There was little they could do for the remainder of the cell, and as for the raid, that was well out of his hands. Cutter raised his pistol and without any hesitation pulled the trigger. Amsel’s head snapped back as the bullet bore through his forehead and exploded out the back into the ground. Cutter stood up in silence.

  He looked at Talia. Her face was like stone as she wiped her eyes and nodded to him.

  Faraday eyed Cutter for a long moment, conflict covering his face. “Cutter, that man was unarmed.”

  “Our rules don’t apply to the SS,” Cutter shot back and walked over to the group of commandos. “Come on, it’s time to go.”

  Parker glared at Cutter, but Cutter could care less. He thought back to when Amsel had killed that Jewish family and the priest at the church, and felt justified. He thought about the SS soldier who had killed Victor. He knew it wasn’t Amsel who had pulled the trigger, but a sense of closure washed over Cutter, as though he had avenged his friend. He knew what he had just done would do little to bring his friend back, but Cutter took solace in the knowledge that Amsel wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else.

  “Lead on, Captain, we have a lot more to do before this war ends.”

  Parker said nothing but turned and motioned for them to move out.

  They made it back to the artillery battery just as Lord Lovat was ordering his commandos to retreat. The staccato of machine gun fire could be heard a hundred yards down the road.

  “Back just in time.” Lord Lovat walked over and shook Parker’s hand. “Where’s Cutter?”

  “Sir, I’m Arthur Cutter, call sign Cartographer.”

  “What’s your sister’s last name?”

  “Bailey.”

  Faraday’s ears perked up at the mention of Bailey. “You related to Sharon Bailey?”

  “Aye, what of it?”

  “You know Peter?”

  “Aye, he’s my brother-in-law. He was shot down a few weeks ago.”

  “Small fucking world,” Faraday chuckled.

  Lord Lovat studied Cutter for a long moment. “Tripoli.”

  Cutter quickly recognized the code word. It was one he hadn’t used in years, but he quickly responded, “Trafalgar.”

  Lord Lovat nodded and turned his attention to Faraday and Talia. “And who are you two?”

  Faraday stepped forward. “Squadron Leader Ian Faraday, No. 71 Eagle Squadron, sir.”

  Lord Lovat nodded and looked at Talia, expecting an explanation.

  “She’s with me, sir, that’s all you need to know,” Cutter interrupted. He would explain himself to Hambro but had no intention of explaining himself to anyone else.

  Lord Lovat shrugged and seemed to take Cutter’s word. He turned and surveyed the destroyed artillery battery. “Captain Parker, get these three to the boats. Captain Carver and the rest of your troop are pulling back as we speak. This position will be swarming with Germans in minutes.”

  “Yes, sir.” Parker motioned for Cutter, Faraday, and Talia to follow him.

  Cutter paused and looked at Lord Lovat. “Sir, was the raid successful?”

  Lord Lovat looked at Cutter and pulled his watch cap off his head and ran a hand through his curly brown hair. “We won’t know the full effect of this raid for a few days, but by my estimates we just pissed away a large contingent of Canadians and commandos.”

  “A damn shame.”

  Lord Lovat shrugged, “No shame in it.” He paused and a smirk tugged at his mouth. “No planning either.”

  “We can agree on that.” Cutter extended his hand. “Thank you for getting us out.”

  Lord Lovat took his hand and shook it. “Go on, lad, we got a whole lot of war left to fight.”

  Cutter smiled and nodded. On that we can agree. He followed Parker through the woods back to where the boats were. As they boarded, Lord Lovat and the rest of Parker’s troop as well as Captain Carver’s came sprinting through the woods and jumped onto the boats.

  First Sergeant Adams clambered into their boat and quickly made sure everyone was there. Satisfied, he started shouting orders. “Get us underway! Go! Go! Go!”

  As the boats pulled away and started to sail back to England, First Sergeant Adams walked over to Parker.

  “We lost four.”

  Parker frowned. “Who?”

  “Davenport, Neely, Best, and Hawkins. Twenty wounded.”

  “Dammit.”

  The raid was a failure and Parker had no way to justify the deaths of his men. He looked over at Cutter.

  “Let it go, sir,” Adams said quickly, reading his mind.

  Parker ignored him and walked over to Cutter. “Why did we do this raid? You must know something!”

  Cutter looked at him and couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Parker had obediently followed orders and had taken part in a raid that Cutter had known from the start had little chance of success. Before Cutter could respond, Sergeant Callum interceded. “Sir, it doesn’t matter, you know this.”

  “Yes it does, you know that.”

  Sergeant Callum shook his head. “Sir, our job is to keep the Germans on their toes. Sometimes we catch them flat-footed, sometimes we don’t.”

  “So we’re expendable?”

  “Sir, you were at Saint-Nazaire. You know better.”

  Parker looked at him in surprise and looked at First Sergeant Adams.

  First Sergeant Adams shrugged. “It’s part of the job, sir. How many times do you think I went over the top in the Great War with the expectation I was going to be killed in a failed attempt at gaining ground?”

  “I don’t understand. This was a waste.”

  Callum nodded. “It was, but we can’t look at it that way. We engaged the ene
my, and with these surprise attacks we’re keeping Jerry unsure of where the big invasion will happen.”

  Parker grunted and looked at Faraday. “How many pilots did you lose today?”

  Faraday frowned; since they had clambered into the boat it was the only thing he could think about. “Definitely a few.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  Faraday walked over to the railing of the boat and shook his head. “I’m not. I understand what you’re feeling. I felt the same way after the Battle of Britain. I lost a lot of friends to sorties and Rhubarb missions over France, for no reason other than the off chance Command thought they would get lucky and destroy a supply train or something. It kept me up at night and I nearly lost my nerve.”

  “What stopped you?”

  Faraday shrugged. “My mates, I suppose.”

  Cutter looked at Parker and put a hand on his shoulder. “Mate, this is the hard part, sometimes you need to be emotionally vacant.” He looked up at Talia as he said it and changed his mind. “No, actually that doesn’t work. That makes you no better than the Nazis. For blokes like us, if we can ask ourselves if it’s worth it and the answer is yes, then there you have it.”

  “And you think this was worth it?”

  Cutter paused and locked eyes with Talia. Her eyes were unwavering but the look in them was different. There was a warmth and familiarity Cutter hadn’t seen since the night they had slept together. Cutter patted Parker’s shoulder. “When we get back to England, the lot of us can down a bottle and we can sort it out.” He moved past Parker and back to Talia and reached for her hand.

  “Durand, Claude, the others—”

  Cutter raised a hand and stopped her. “There is nothing we can do for them now.” He gently put his arms around her and held her. She stifled a cry and her body shuddered. Cutter slowly lowered her to the deck and they sat with their back to the bulkhead. Cutter continued to let her sob quietly as he held her close. He looked up at the faces of the men who had rescued them.

  He spotted Teach and Tarbor in the aft compartment. A cigarette dangled loosely from Tarbor’s lips as he wrapped a new bandage around Teach’s chest. Another commando had his arms around a ranger as he shuddered and hyperventilated, struggling to get control of himself. Cutter turned and saw Faraday and Parker leaning against the railing sharing a cigarette, talking about home and continuing to discuss compartmentalization of what had just happened. Sergeant Callum and First Sergeant Adams moved among the commandos, checking the emotional and physical status of each man. They both floated among the soldiers, exchanging a good word and comforting those that were distraught.