To Chase the Storm: The Frontier Series 4

by Peter Watt

  In the hall Jakob sat at the battered wooden table and told the gathered community leaders what Saul had reported.

  ‘What if he is wrong?’ Aaron Herzog said to the gathering. ‘What proof does he have of an attack on us?’

  ‘Because he told me,’ Jakob replied with a sigh. ‘And I trust the young man’s opinion. According to my son, he was a good soldier in South Africa and I heard through friends in the army that he was recommended for their country’s highest award for bravery. If Saul Rosenblum thinks that we are going to be attacked, then I believe him. We have been fortunate to receive early warning to prepare our defence.’

  ‘I see no proof,’ Herzog persisted, but his argument was gathering little support as it was well known that he and Saul despised each other. ‘I say that we should go out immediately and bring back Ivan’s body for a fit and proper burial. He was, after all, a devout man.’

  This brought a chuckle from a few in the meeting.

  ‘Ivan was devout to the vodka,’ someone muttered, causing the chuckle to escalate to a ripple of laughter. ‘But we will miss his presence amongst us.’

  ‘I would suggest that we gather the women and children to a place of safety in the settlement,’ Jakob said, quietly drawing back the attention of the meeting.

  The men nodded, some tugging at long beards. Only Aaron appeared to disagree. If he had his way, the Australian would be ejected from the settlement. From what he had learned, Saul Rosenblum was a man who had no real belief in the spirituality of his ancestors. Nor was his mother even Jewish. The likes of the Australian had no place in the new Zion.

  On the perimeter Saul waited patiently. He knew with certainty that the time of blooding for his small force was only hours away. How would they cope? The next few hours would answer his unspoken question.

  It was approaching midday in Ireland.

  Patrick finished his packing, leaving only his pistol on top of the bed. It was time to say goodbye to his friend Father Eamon O’Brien and then make his way to the Fitzgerald manor.

  From the tiny window of his hotel room Patrick surveyed the countryside. The weather was boiling up for another heavy cloudburst, which would bring cold driving rain to the village and fields. He walked back to his bed and sat on the edge, staring at the revolver. He had failed either to convince his cousin Martin to desist in his seditious activities against the British Crown or to adequately explain his feelings to his wife. Since his visit he had no word from her.

  ‘Damn!’ he swore savagely and screwed up his face in anger. Why could Catherine not see his love for her? Or was it that he had been too long under the influence of war to truly be able to express his deepest emotions?

  The peat digger closed the door of his tenement house behind him and with hands in pockets hunched against the biting wind. The upraised collar of his coat helped both to protect his face and neck and disguise his features. He hugged the wall of the narrow cobbled street as he strolled casually towards the edge of the village.

  If the intelligence was correct, Norris was due this evening and Sean wanted to be pre-positioned to make his meeting with the British landlord. But it was a meeting that Sean knew only he would walk away from. Then he would go in search of the traitorous Major Duffy and make his score two for the night.

  FORTY-NINE

  A moonless night came to the settlement.

  Saul had issued his orders and the village lay in darkness, his tiny force deployed to strategic points around the village to cover as much of the perimeter as possible. Saul knew that it was not enough, but he had at least trained his militia in night firing and demonstrated to them how easy it was to fire too high in the dark. They had soon learned in range practice to keep the rifle barrels down and fire low.

  Those not armed – the older men, women and children – had been confined to a storage building made of heavy stone and easily barricaded. Aaron Herzog was amongst the frightened settlers huddled between bales of straw and crates of farming supplies. He had refused to learn how to use a rifle as he did not believe in violence, and Saul had not pressed the point.

  Saul checked the rope he had laid on the ground between the outposts established just after last light. In the dark, each of the outposts could be found by following the waist-level rope he had hung to wooden markers. It was time to inspect the positions and Saul commenced with an outpost manned only by one person. It was a site less likely to be exposed to an attack but critical in the defence of the interlocking fire zones Saul had designated each position. He was duly challenged for the password and, on giving the correct reply, moved forward cautiously and bumped into one of the defenders.

  ‘It is you, Mr Rosenblum?’

  He recognised the frightened voice of the pretty young girl who had been in tears at the range only days earlier. ‘How are you holding up?’ he asked.

  ‘I see nothing in the dark,’ the girl said. ‘I am very frightened. Do you think I will be killed?’ she asked in a rush of tight words.

  ‘How old are you?’ Saul asked gently.

  ‘I am seventeen,’ she replied.

  ‘Then you will live to be seventy and have many children born on this land,’ Saul said with a smile she could not see. ‘That is a promise.’

  The young girl’s voice seemed to relax just a little. ‘Will they really attack us if they think we know they are out there?’ she asked.

  Saul considered her question. ‘I wish that they would instead show some sense and return to their village, but I feel they are stupid enough to attempt an attack on us, so be vigilant.’

  ‘Mr Rosenblum?’

  ‘What, Elsa?’ Saul responded.

  ‘Can you stay with me, if they come?’ she blurted. ‘I would feel safer knowing that you were beside me.’

  Saul felt a lump in his throat. How could he tell her that he expected many of them to die before the sun rose on the next day and that she might be one of them? It had taken a lot for Saul to adjust to the idea that women would also be fighting alongside the men to defend the settlement. Jakob had quietly insisted, telling Saul biblical stories about the Hebrew women of old and how they had stood beside their men.

  ‘I will try,’ he said, and reached out instinctively as a father would to touch the face of the young girl with the palm of his hand. He felt the wetness of the tears that flowed down her cheeks as Elsa gripped his wrist tightly.

  ‘I would like to tell you something,’ Elsa said. ‘But I do not know how to say it.’

  ‘Tell me tomorrow, when this is all over,’ Saul replied as he self-consciously drew away his hand. ‘I must go now and check the others but I promise I will be back tonight.’

  Elsa nodded and watched the Australian disappear silently. She settled in to watch her area of responsibility to the front, feeling the reassuring cold wood of the rifle tucked loosely into her shoulder. But the shallow trench that had been hastily dug after last light felt like a grave. Would she have the courage to tell Saul of her feelings, she wondered.

  When Saul had completed his rounds to each outpost, reassuring his defenders, he returned to report to Jakob.

  ‘You know that we don’t have enough people with rifles to defend the village,’ Saul said bitterly as he slumped against a wall, rifle between his knees. It was dark in the hall except for the flickering light of a candle, and with the windows and doors barricaded no light could be seen from outside. Jakob sat at the big table with a book open before him. ‘We could have done with bayonets and a machine gun or two,’ Saul added with a sigh.

  ‘That is all we could afford,’ Jakob answered with a shrug. ‘We must trust in God’s protection. He will not desert us.’

  ‘You sound like that sanctimonious bastard Herzog,’ Saul said. ‘I got to see a lot of dead Dutchmen who figured the God of their Old Testament was on their side.’

  ‘Ah, but God has sent you to us,’ Jakob countered gently with a twinkle of a smile. ‘That is the way He works. He will not desert His chosen people in their dire h
our of need.’

  Saul glanced at the old man. There was something gentle and wise about the former jewel trader that endeared him to all those he met. ‘Rather have Ivan with me right now,’ Saul answered. ‘But he is probably introducing the archangels to the joys of vodka.’

  ‘That you believe that much, my young friend, is a sign that you have not completely deserted the ways of your father.’

  Saul frowned. ‘Don’t misinterpret my bad jokes as faith, Jakob,’ he said. ‘But I do believe in the people you have gathered here. Don’t ask me why – I just do.’

  Jakob nodded. No matter what Saul believed in, it was more important right now to believe in the young former soldier’s skills. Such a responsibility was God given.

  Elsa tried to fight off the sleep that came to her, despite the fear she felt for the unknown. On his last round of inspection Saul had told her it was midway between midnight and dawn. But involuntarily her eyes closed and for a time she was in a world of serene happiness, dreaming of the snowfields of her village. Saul was beside her and smiling. He held out his hand...

  She came awake instantly as the world around her exploded with screams and rifle shots. Blinking desperately to clear her eyes, she could see the myriad burning torches waving in the dark. It seemed that they were all in front of her and suddenly a figure loomed out of the dark only feet away.

  Elsa surprised herself by swinging her rifle around and firing. The shadowy figure disappeared momentarily only to rise again from the earth. In shock, Elsa had forgotten to work the bolt to eject the spent cartridge and chamber another round and there was no time to do so before the figure was before her.

  ‘Jesus! You almost shot me,’ Saul exclaimed. ‘The enemy are out there to your front,’ he said as he took up a position beside the young woman.

  Saul quickly surveyed the scene. There must be hundreds of them, he thought with a sinking feeling. But the attackers had lit firebrands and unwittingly disclosed their positions as they came in a human wave of blood-curdling, ululating cries, firing wildly. The attackers were shooting high. Saul could hear the thwack of their bullets hitting the stone walls of the village behind him. Already his militia were firing steadily into the ranks crossing the ploughed paddock. For a second he hoped that they just might cripple the attack. It all depended on how well he had trained his small army in using their rifles at night. Each shot of their limited supply of ammunition had to count. But the attackers were also returning fire as they kept coming in what appeared to be an unstoppable wave.

  The firebrands began to fall in showers of sparks as the defenders’ rifle fire bit into the closely packed formation of attackers. Saul recklessly stood up to observe the flow of battle. It seemed as if the Arabs had concentrated their assault in one formation in order to overwhelm the villagers. If so, then he could draw in the reserve of rifles he had positioned at the other ends of the village. But if he were wrong, and the attackers had placed a force to the other side of the village, then gathering his reserve to the main front would leave them extremely vulnerable. It was a gamble, but Saul also knew that if he did not stem the flow of Palestinians to his front, they were lost anyway.

  Saul made his decision and moved quickly to bring up his reserve who scrambled to take up positions next to their comrades in the now less thinly spread front line. The attackers were only a hundred yards or so out when they were met with heavier gunfire than they had experienced from the outset. Saul commanded the deployment from beside Elsa’s position where she kept up a steady and disciplined rate of fire, calmly reloading the magazine as it emptied and then continuing to shoot into the flickering wave of torches. Saul could hear the war cry of the Palestinians, goading them to a victory. But the attack was wavering as many turned to flee the murderous fire. It was obvious that they had underestimated the new settlers’ capacity to defend themselves. But those who did get close enough hurled their firebrands towards the front line of the defending militia. They landed in a shower of sparks, giving some weak light for the attackers to see their enemy.

  A sudden drop-off in rifle fire and new screams and curses to Saul’s left flank alerted him that some of his young militia were now engaged in a desperate and vicious hand-to-hand battle. Without hesitating he ran to bolster their attempt to stem any collapse of the defence.

  As Saul stumbled into position, a huge Arab in a distinctive white robe swung an ancient scimitar sword. The man’s bearded face flashed. A mask of hate and blood lust, he was mere feet from Saul who desperately brought up his rifle to parry the blade. Sword and rifle met in a bone shaking crash, dislodging the rifle from Saul’s grip. It clattered to the earth and the swordsman skilfully changed foot, this time readying to deliver a killing blow from the side.

  In the blink of an eye Saul realised that there was nothing he could do to prevent the sword slicing through him. The triumphant expression on the Arab’s face confirmed that he was a dead man.

  As if in slow motion, Saul saw the barrel of a rifle thrust into the Arab’s side, and the triumph on the man’s face suddenly turned to anguished pain. Saul did not even hear the sharp discharge of the rifle as its projectile ripped through the man’s heart and lungs, flinging him sideways. When Saul swung to glimpse his saviour he saw the pinched face of Elsa, her eyes as big as saucers in the semi-dark. He was almost ready to curse her for leaving her position but the terror written across her pretty face was enough to quell his anger.

  Without a word he scooped up his weapon and was not disappointed when an attacker stumbled forward to be cut down with a bullet from Saul’s rifle only a pace away. Around him, Saul could hear man-to-man fighting. Grunting, cursing and screaming, men kicked, punched, bit and stabbed each other to death to the sound of metal crashing down on metal. The occasional shot indicated to Saul that one or two of his militia had been able to disengage themselves for enough time to reload and fire. Screaming defiance, Saul waded into the melee swinging his rifle like a club.

  It seemed an eternity until there were no shots or curses left.

  ‘They have gone,’ an awed voice said in the dark as the sound of someone sobbing followed.

  Panting, Saul staggered back to a group of men and women as they emerged from their positions, seeking each other to celebrate their survival.

  ‘Get back to your positions,’ Saul rasped. ‘They might be reforming for another attack.’

  Reluctantly, the young defenders returned to their allocated defences while Saul tried to establish how many had been killed and wounded. He moved from position to position as they waited in exhaustion. When he had ensured each man and woman had ammunition and water to drink, he again sought Elsa out.

  ‘Just thought I should thank you for what you did earlier,’ he said quietly. ‘If you hadn’t been nearby I was definitely a dead man.’

  Elsa blushed at his words, grateful for the darkness. ‘I was doing what you taught me to do,’ she replied modestly.

  ‘And didn’t I tell you to remain at your post – regardless of anything,’ Saul growled gently. ‘You disobeyed my orders.’

  Elsa hung her head. Did he not know that his life was precious to more than just himself? If he had been killed the others might have broken and run. He was the rock on which the safety of the moshava now depended. ‘You are a stupid man, Mr Rosenblum,’ she snapped. ‘It was my duty to make sure that you were not killed.’

  Saul was taken aback by her anger. The girl had spirit, he thought, and he now felt just a little remorse for being so hard on her in the past. If the truth be known, he had been frightened that she might suffer the same fate as Karen and Anna – and that he could not endure again.

  Without replying, he walked away. Elsa felt tears welling in her eyes. The events of the night were closing in and flashes of what had happened, only a short time earlier, began to erode her nerves. She trembled uncontrollably and her teeth chattered. Dropping her rifle Elsa hugged herself, tears finally flowing. Soon the morning would come and the result of the ni
ght before would be evident.

  When the sun rose over the battlefield Saul was unsurprised to see that no bodies of the slain enemy were left in the ploughed paddock. The Arabs had taken their dead and wounded under cover of darkness.

  But fourteen bodies remained at the edge of the village where the close quarter fighting had occurred. Five of the bodies were of the defenders, four men and one woman, who lay scattered in death with the many, terrible wounds a testimony to how hard they had fought.

  Saul supervised the removal of all bodies with the help of grieving settlers who had come out of the sanctuary of the storage shed whilst the remaining militia stood half their number to guard against a daylight attack. Saul sent out a patrol of three to sweep the area beyond the village for any sign of the Palestinian attackers. Then he sent his exhausted defenders into the village to sleep. He reissued their arms to others to put up a pretence of defence should they still be under observation from the attackers. But for himself there was no luxury of rest. The village was still under threat and there was much to do to ensure the safety of these people whose lives Jakob had entrusted to his skills and experience of war.

  Saul’s mind and body were numb with weariness and he hardly registered Jakob’s presence when he came to him sometime before noon.

  ‘Go and sleep,’ Jakob had gently commanded. ‘We will wake you if anything happens.’