Antoine grabbed an artillery officer and asked for the regiment’s commander. The officer led them to a location alongside the wharf, just beyond the range of the German guns, where a British colonel studied a map along with several other officers.
Across the street, Jan noticed a group of more than a hundred heavily armed men in paramilitary dress, wearing White Brigade armbands. He guessed they were waiting for instructions from Antoine.
When the British colonel saw Antoine and Jan approaching, he gave them an uncertain look and stepped forward. “Colonel Canfield, Third Royal Tank Regiment. Who are you?”
“My name is Antoine. We’re with the armed forces of the White Brigade. I’m told you’ve been briefed on our activities.”
“Well, yes…somewhat,” the British colonel said.
Antoine stepped directly to the map spread out on the hood of the British officer’s Jeep and pointed to their location. “We are right here, at the Bonapartedok,” he said. “This dock, along with the next two, the Willemdok and the Kattendijkdok, were seized last night by White Brigade forces and are under our control. A few hours ago our forces also seized the Kruisschans Lock, located right here.” As Antoine said this, he pointed to the location of the crucial lock, almost five kilometers to the north. “Our forces at the Kruisschans Lock are in desperate need of reinforcements.”
Colonel Canfield studied the map but didn’t respond.
Antoine glanced at Jan with a quizzical look then turned back to the British colonel. As Antoine spoke he traced a line with his finger from the Kattendijkdok to the Kruisschans Lock. “Colonel Canfield, I am requesting at least six tanks and a company of infantry to accompany my troops north, along the Kattendijkdok, across the Albert Canal and on through the remaining docks to the north. If we move quickly, we should be able to take control of them without much trouble. We will then have secured the entire port and be in position to support the men holding the Kruisschans Lock.”
Canfield continued to stare at the map for what seemed to Jan like a very long time. Finally he looked up and rubbed his chin, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have orders to penetrate that area. Besides, it appears to be very dangerous terrain to operate with an armored unit. All these canals and docks, lined with warehouses and cranes. It’s over five kilometers, we’ve had no reconnaissance. We really don’t know—”
“Excuse me, Colonel,” Antoine interrupted. “Our reconnaissance of the entire port is very thorough. My men have been operating here for a long time. Most of them work in the port. We’ll guide your troops all the way.”
“Well, that may be true…but it’s not the same as…” The colonel paused. “No disrespect, but I’m sure you understand. My orders are to proceed to the port as far as the Albert Canal. I have no authority to penetrate farther.”
Antoine could not hide his annoyance. “Colonel Canfield, the Kruisschans Lock is vital to the safety of the port. The Germans rigged it for demolition, which we are now in the process of dismantling—”
“Well then, we have some time,” Canfield chimed in.
“No, sir, we don’t,” Antoine snapped. “We were able to seize the lock with a surprise attack, but we won’t be able to hold it without reinforcements. If the Germans retake that lock, they will blow it up. Do you know what will happen then?”
“Look old chap, really, I think we—”
Antoine interrupted him again. “Sir, the entire port could collapse. If they blow that lock, the water in the port will go out with the tide, and without the water pressure in the docks the sides of the quays will collapse. The port of Antwerp will be out of commission for years.”
The two men stared at each other.
Jan knew that Colonel Canfield was clearly in a bind. He had incomplete orders and was suddenly being asked to risk an armored unit and a company of infantry in an unknown area on the word of a foreign civilian he had never before met. As a career military officer, Jan knew that was an untenable position. But he also knew that what Antoine was asking was absolutely necessary.
“Colonel Canfield, may I have a word with you in private?” Jan asked, stepping a few meters away from the group and gesturing for the colonel to join him.
The colonel stepped over to Jan, but he was clearly agitated. “And who the hell are you, again?”
Jan glanced around. Antoine and the other British officers had moved out of earshot. He looked at Canfield. “I am a regimental commander with the Polish First Armored Division, attached to the First Canadian Corps. Our unit was on Mont Ormel at the Falaise Gap. I also have advanced training in demolition devices. Two weeks ago I was assigned by General Maczek to special duty with the SOE. I have been operating undercover for the past week within the German garrison here in Antwerp. I am the one who routed you over the Pont van Enschodt. I’ve been to the Kruisschans Lock. I can assure you, Colonel Canfield, that what Antoine is asking for is absolutely necessary.”
“Well, he may think it necessary, but—”
Jan held up his hand. “We also need support to seize the bridges over the Albert Canal.”
“That may be, but my orders—”
“Quite frankly, Colonel, I don’t give a shit what your orders are,” Jan said, cutting him off. “We’re both officers and we both know we have to make decisions in the field. Will it have made any sense to have fought your way into Antwerp and then let the Germans destroy the port?”
Canfield removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. He glanced around at the other officers who were all looking off in another direction. “You make a very persuasive argument, but I still do not have the authority—”
“If you don’t have the authority, then get on the radio and contact whoever does,” Jan exclaimed. “But let’s stop fucking around! Those men out at the Kruisschans Lock need reinforcements, and they need them now!”
Canfield stared at him for a moment. Then he turned and stormed off, yelling to one of his officers, “Captain Anders! Get a radioman up here! On the double!”
Chapter 67
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER, Jan wandered through the quiet battlefield surrounding the Kruisschans Lock. British medics tended to the wounded from both sides with the help of a Belgian doctor. Trucks were on their way for transport to the hospital.
Jan kicked at a small clump of dirt, staring at the wreckage. They hadn’t gotten all they asked for from Canfield, but they’d gotten enough to save the lock and, as battles went, this one was minor. Compared with what Jan had experienced at the Bzura River and the Kampinos Forest, compared with Montbard, Chambois and the Falaise Gap, it was really nothing more than a blip on the chart.
But it had now been five years. Five years…and he was standing in yet another battlefield with bodies of young men sprawled in front of him. Dead Polish boys and French boys now replaced by British and Belgian boys. But they were still dead. And after five years, there were still dead German boys. Jan rubbed his eyes. By now, he thought, an entire generation of German youth had been wasted across the entire continent of Europe. From the vast expanses of Poland and Russia to the tidy hedgerows of Normandy and now, along the canals of Belgium and Holland, there had been one constant. Young men had died…millions of young men. For what?
A British officer named Wilson walked alongside him. “How long have you been at this?”
Jan shook his head and kicked at another clump of dirt. “It seems like forever.”
• • •
A little before six o’clock in the evening, Antoine returned to the Kruisschans Lock with an additional British infantry platoon. The Resistance leader joined Jan and Wilson who were standing on the outer gate of the lock. “Another British regiment and two Canadian regiments have entered the city, and the Germans have been pretty well rooted out,” Antoine said.
“What about the bridges to Merksem?” Jan asked.
Antoine shook his head. “They’re all blown. The Germans have Merksem sealed off. Most of them got over the bridges
before they were destroyed, but Canfield tells me they’ve taken more than two thousand prisoners.”
“Two thousand?” Wilson exclaimed. “Where the hell are they going to put them?”
“Well, he asked me if I had any suggestions,” Antoine said. “I told him to lock them up in the zoo. It’s right near the Central Station.”
“The zoo? What about the animals?” Wilson asked.
“They were all eaten long ago.”
Wilson looked at Jan, an incredulous expression on his face.
Jan shrugged. After what he’d seen in Poland, he knew anything was possible.
Antoine continued. “We’re clearing out the last of the Germans from the docks north of the canal. We should have complete control over the port by morning.”
“But now we’ve got to hold it,” Jan said.
The Resistance leader nodded. “Yes. And until Merksem is taken we can expect additional attacks. With the bridges gone, the only way into Merksem is over the Groenendallaan, which we’ve already tried and failed, or across the canal in boats—but that’s for another day.” He turned to Jan. “You’ve had a busy week. You’re officially relieved from my command as of now. Get some rest and report to Sam at 1400 hours tomorrow at the Den Engle Café on the Grote Markt. Do you know where that is?”
“I’ll find it,” Jan said.
Chapter 68
IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT and Anna was still awake, staring at the shadowy outline of the crystal chandelier. Frustrated, she turned onto her side, and her eyes fell on the garish flowered patterns of the wallpaper illuminated by moonlight shining through the window. Alone and isolated in this bizarre prison cell for almost a week, she felt herself slipping into a well of despair.
She had tried to fight it. She had tried to keep her mind occupied, devising a hundred different plans for escape, all of which seemed futile. Otto had shut her out, refusing any further communication, and the stark reality was that she was sealed in a room with a stout, locked door and barred windows in an isolated farmhouse at least fifteen kilometers inside Germany. The last thought she had before finally drifting off to sleep was that she may never see Jan again.
Anna snapped awake at the sound of footsteps outside the door. As the fog of sleep lifted she heard a key turning in the lock. She sat upright as the door opened, her eyes gradually focusing on a figure in the doorway.
For a few seconds the figure just stood there, then slowly stepped forward and flipped on the light switch.
Anna was momentarily blinded by the bright light and covered her eyes. Her heart pounded.
“I apologize for waking you,” Dieter Koenig said. “But I’ve missed you terribly.” He spoke French, his voice just a whisper.
Anna blinked to clear her eyes and tried to speak, but she felt as if she were choking.
Koenig turned away for a second, closed the heavy wooden door and locked it, slipping the key into his pocket. He took off his hat and placed it on the bureau, which stood against the wall opposite the bed. “I trust you are well? Otto has taken good care of you in my absence?”
His words made her stomach churn. She glanced quickly to her left, to the door of the washroom. Could she make it? She didn’t think so. He stepped closer to the bed. Anna jumped off the other side, pulling a blanket around herself. “Get out of here,” she snapped, backing into the corner.
“Now, now, ma chérie, that’s no way to treat a soldier returning to his home.”
Anna watched with loathing as he unbuckled his black belt with the holster and handgun and placed it on the top of the bureau.
He smiled, unbuttoning his black tunic. “We both know what’s going to happen here,” he said, as he hung the tunic on the bedpost. “If you’re smart, you’ll make the best of it. After all, you really have no choice.” He moved around the foot of the bed, trapping her in the corner, and stepped closer.
“Get away! Don’t touch me!” Anna spat out the words and grabbed the lamp from the night table, jerking the electrical cord from the socket, holding the heavy brass base like a club.
Koenig was on her in an instant. He ripped the lamp out of her hands and smashed it against the wall.
Anna pushed him away and crawled over the bed, but her feet became tangled in the blanket.
Koenig ripped the blanket away and lunged at her.
Anna rolled off the bed and landed heavily on the wooden floor. She got to her feet and started for the washroom, but Koenig was too fast. He scrambled over the bed and grabbed her by the hair.
He spun her around and slapped her across the face.
Anna screamed, clawing his cheek, frantically trying to grab the lamp from the other night stand.
“You fucking bitch! Ich werde Sie Töten! I’ll kill you!” Koenig bellowed in guttural German as he grabbed her by the throat and shoved her backward against the wall.
She tried to knee him in the groin, but he slapped her again, harder, and pushed her to the floor. Anna scratched at his eyes but he was wild with rage and punched her in the stomach.
She heaved in a sudden spasm, gasping for breath.
Koenig pinned her to the floor with one hand around her neck, kneeling on top of her. With his other hand he grabbed the neckline of her nightgown and ripped it open, exposing her bare body to the waist. He stared at her breasts, then began to unbutton his fly. She squirmed beneath him and spat in his face.
“Verdammt!” he screamed, and grabbed her by the hair, banging her head against the floor.
Anna’s sight shattered into a thousand bright lights as a paralyzing pain sliced through her skull. Then she slipped into a dull blackness.
Anna flinched as a coarse hand groped between her thighs. She blinked. Koenig was glaring down at her, forcing her legs apart with his knees. She struggled to hit him, but her hands were tied together above her head, secured to the heavy wooden leg at the head of the bed. She was naked, the rest of her nightgown lying in a shredded heap on the floor next to her. Christ, had she passed out?
Koenig’s face came closer, his coarse hand now fondling her breasts. His forehead pressed against hers, intensifying the pain. “Now, you’re mine,” he whispered. His breath was hot. His saliva dripped on her face.
“Please,” Anna begged. “Please! Don’t!” She felt the prick of a sharp blade against her neck.
“If you resist, I’ll slit your throat,” he hissed, lowering himself into position, his weight pressing her against the hard wooden floor.
She squirmed again and cried, “Non! Non! Attends! Halte—”
The blade moved, cutting into her neck with a burning sting. “Be still!”
She threw her head back and bit her lower lip, convulsing with agony as he plunged into her.
He thrust again…and again, grunting each time, “You’re mine! You’re mine!”
When he finished, Koenig stood over her, pulling up his trousers. Anna lay on her back, pain coursing through her groin, her arms numb from the tight cord knotted around her wrists. Her stomach heaved and she swallowed, forcing down the bile in her throat. She wanted to curl into a ball, but she was terrified to move, praying he wouldn’t touch her again.
Then, through the throbbing pain in her head, she heard a thumping sound.
She heard it again, a loud thump. The floor seemed to vibrate. She heard a voice, deep and raspy. At first it seemed far away, then it became louder, more distinct.
Koenig mumbled as he buckled his belt, “Fucking moron, I’ll kill him.”
Suddenly, a thunderous crash shook the room.
Koenig jerked his head toward the door. An instant later, two enormous hands grabbed him by the neck and flung him across the room.
Anna rolled on her side and pulled up her knees, the cord digging into her wrists.
Before Koenig could regain his feet, Otto jerked him upright and smashed a mammoth fist into the SS officer’s face, knocking him backward against the bureau like a stuffed doll.
Koenig’s face was a mass of blood. He cl
utched the top of the bureau to keep from falling.
Otto lunged forward and kicked him in the chest.
Anna heard the cracking sound of breaking ribs, as Otto kicked him again. Koenig crumpled to the floor.
The big man stepped back to the bed and knelt beside Anna. Instinctively, she turned away, but Otto picked up the knife and cut the cord binding her hands. He scooped her up as easily as if she were a small child and lay her on the bed. He glanced around, found the blanket, and gently covered her.
“I’ll get some water,” he said and turned toward the washroom.
The gunshot was so jarring that Anna couldn’t comprehend what had happened until she saw Otto slumping against the washroom door, clutching his chest.
She sat up and stared in horror at Koenig, leaning against the bureau, holding his gun with both hands.
Blood streamed down Koenig’s smashed face, and his hands shook as he pointed the gun at Anna. She rolled to her left just as he fired.
As Anna toppled off the bed, Otto stepped over her and staggered across the room.
Koenig swung around, trying to get off another shot, but the big man was on top of him.
Otto ripped the gun from the SS officer’s hand and bashed it into his skull with a sickening thud. He hit Koenig a second time, then a third. Koenig sagged forward and collapsed.
Anna jumped to her feet and grabbed Otto as the big man stumbled backward. With every ounce of strength she could muster, she steered the wounded man to the bed.
Groaning in pain, Otto laid back while Anna lifted his feet onto the bed. She quickly wrapped herself in the blanket and stepped over to Koenig’s body. She held her fingers to his throat to make certain the bastard was dead, then ran to the washroom and returned with a pan of water and towels.
Otto stared at the ceiling, his eyes glazed, his face wet with perspiration.
Anna picked up the knife and gently cut away his blood-soaked undershirt.
The wound was high on the left side of his massive chest, halfway between the collarbone and the shoulder. As Otto moaned in pain, Anna reached behind his back and felt around, her fingers finally touching an exit wound. The bullet had gone right through his body, and Anna knew enough to realize that was better than having it lodged inside.
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