Bombers’ Moon

by Iris Gower

  ‘I wouldn’t be anything of the sort if you left me alone.’ Just then the radio started making noises. I was receiving a message and it could only be from Hari. I hastily took down the message, most of it in coded Welsh, and gasped at the information, which was brief but to the point.

  ‘What is it?’ Fritz asked in a sharp voice.

  I handed him the hastily scribbled message.

  ‘I can’t make it out,’ he said, and appeared uncomfortable and confused.

  ‘I relented. ‘I’m not surprised, it’s in coded Welsh.’

  ‘See?’ he said, ‘see how valuable you are to us? Not many other people in Germany would speak and read Welsh; that’s really clever. What does it say?’

  I prevaricated, not sure if I could trust him. ‘How do I know which side you’re on, Fritz?’

  He shook his head. ‘You damn woman.’ He undid the laces on his worn shoes and slipped them off. His socks were clean, confirming that he was no tramp. Gently, he took off his socks and showed me his disfigured feet.

  ‘Your nails, they’ve been torn out,’ I said in horror.

  ‘Aye, the Germans suspected me of spying and took me in for “questioning”. In the end I managed to convince them I was stupid and knew nothing.’

  ‘Not too difficult a job for you.’ My sarcasm brought a grimace to his face. He stared at me.

  ‘The message, it could be urgent.’

  I hesitated, instinctively I felt he was telling the truth but I couldn’t be sure. He read my expression.

  ‘If I’m the enemy why haven’t I turned you in?’ he demanded. ‘You’d be a fine prize for the Germans I can tell you. Herr Euler is not liked by everyone, he has enemies who would like to see him disgraced. You would be the perfect excuse to discredit him.’

  I capitulated; his words made sense. ‘It’s important,’ I said at last. The Allies are going to invade several of the Normandy beaches at the same time.’

  ‘You’d better tell me all about it, slowly and quietly.’

  I decided I might as well trust him as I couldn’t do a lot on my own. I told him the code names of the beaches: ‘Sword, Juno, Gold, Omaha and Utah. The Americans and Canadians will be invading along with the British.’

  I went over my notes again and explained several times and then Fritz took my piece of paper, lit a match and burnt it.

  He gestured to the radio. ‘Send an acknowledged signal and for God’s sake switch the thing off. Come on.’

  He climbed into my jeep and started to drive. He bumped over the grassy bank and on to the roadway and then we were heading away from the spot as fast as my poor old car could make it.

  We stopped outside a tall building on the outskirts of Hamburg and he pulled to a stop. ‘Thanks for the lift. I’ll be in touch.’ He took the radio and left me sitting there open-mouthed. ‘I won’t be Anna!’ I said in a sibilant whisper. ‘But I’ll be Anwn if I have to be anything.’

  I saw a movement in an upstairs window and instinctively looked up. A blonde woman was staring down at us, his girlfriend I supposed. When she saw me looking she let the curtain drop. Without turning, Fritz went into the building and closed the door. With a sigh of resignation, I shifted into the driver’s seat and, seething, and not without difficulty, found my way back home.

  Fifty-Four

  Kate snuggled into Eddie’s arms. ‘I’m sorry about the row so I am.’ She smoothed Eddie’s lean jaw feeling a muscle jump and knowing with a dart of joy he loved her as she loved him.

  ‘I didn’t mean to quarrel,’ she said pleadingly, ‘but please, Eddie, accept that Stephen is the father of my baby and there’s bound to be contact some of the time.’

  Eddie was silent for a long time and when he spoke it was in a strangled voice that betrayed his feelings so clearly to Kate that she felt it like a knife thrust.

  ‘But of all men, Stephen! He was the one who bragged that he took your innocence. He told me about all the men you’d had, he wanted to destroy us; how could you forgive him enough to take him back into your life?’

  Kate was suddenly angry. ‘I thought you were dead. I was about to give birth to a child with no name, “father unknown” on the birth certificate, what else could I do? Stephen stepped in at the last minute and gave our child respectability, even your mother was grateful. He kept us fed and clothed, Eddie, a roof over our head. He wasn’t you but he was a good husband and father to our son. How dare you begrudge him a little bit of happiness? He’s coming to see his own son later today so even if you can’t be generous, sure you can just put up with it.’

  A gentle tapping on the door interrupted her flow. ‘That’s Hari.’ She sighed in relief. ‘She’s taking me and the boys to the park. Now Eddie, we must grasp what happiness we can get because who knows what is going to happen to us tomorrow?’

  When Hari came into the kitchen Kate behaved as if no angry words had been spoken. Eddie helped to get the children ready and Kate knew he was contrite about his outburst. She smiled in his direction, loving him.

  The weather was hot for May and the scent of blossoms drifted to where Kate was sitting on the warm wooden bench in the park.

  ‘Everything all right, Hari? You’re very quiet.’

  ‘Just the usual, work and worry about Meryl.’

  ‘And worrying and wondering about Michael,’ Kate said.

  ‘He’s not mine to think about any more.’ Hari’s voice held a note of sadness mingled with anger. ‘I slept with him, Kate, we made beautiful love, didn’t that mean anything to him?’

  ‘Learn a lesson, Hari, my love,’ Kate said softly, ‘making love doesn’t mean a thing to some men; it’s meaningful at the time, they think they love you just then but men can put things like feelings into different boxes. We women think it means they love us for ever, fools that we are.’

  ‘Aye, wise words and I’ve heard them before but it doesn’t make any difference,’ Hari said.

  Kate was glad to sit down in quietness while Hari took the boys on the swings. She could hear the excited squeals of her boys on the soft air, she could smell the spring flowers and for a time her sadness vanished.

  Kate was sorry when it was time to go home but Teddy was crying; he was hungry and the baby grizzled incessantly.

  ‘Let me push the pram.’ Hari took charge. Kate held Teddy’s hand and put her other hand on the pram handle for guidance. They walked in silence, the children quiet now they were on the move. Everything would be all right, Kate reasoned, Eddie would see sense, if not friendly he would at least be civil to Stephen and they would have tea together with Hilda, who was good at smoothing things over, and the hours of Stephen’s visit would pass soon enough.

  Kate would have liked to chat with Stephen, they had always been able to talk and, really, she was lucky to have two fine men in her life at a time of war when there were so many widows about. She made the sign of the cross quickly, her Irish roots surfacing. She heard Hari giggle.

  ‘What evil thoughts are you thinking now, Kate, that you have to ask pardon of God?’

  ‘You’re a heathen,’ Kate said mildly, ‘you don’t understand, not being Catholic.’

  ‘Well, I’m a good chapel girl,’ Hari said, ‘nothing wrong with that is there?’

  Kate pushed her friend’s arm away. ‘Go on with you! I’m not getting into all that, I’ve too much else to think about.’

  As if to punctuate Kate’s words, the wail of the air-raid warning wrenched apart the silence of the day.

  ‘Hurry, Kate, we’re nearly home.’ She felt Hari drag her along the road and heard her push open the door and wheel the pram through the passageway into the kitchen.

  There was the screech of a doodlebug. Kate froze. And then, after a long terrifying silence came a blast as the house fell apart. The glare penetrated Kate’s eyes, for a long moment she was dazzled, her sight cleared and she realized she could see.

  She cried out as she saw all around her the dead bodies of her family. Hilda, Eddie and Stephen wer
e on the floor in a tangle of disjointed limbs. Teddy was flat on his face, his small body crushed by a huge piece of masonry. She crawled towards him to look at his face—he was the image of his father but he had her own dark curly hair and white skin.

  ‘My boy, my boy,’ she whimpered. She heard a small cry and struggled to where the pram lay overturned on the floor. The baby had tumbled out and his head was gashed and bleeding. Kate picked him up and snuggled him to her. He lay limp in her arms as slowly his little face became blue, waxen like a doll. Kate howled like an animal unable to bear the pain of it all.

  She felt an agonizing pain in her legs, it spread slowly up her body and she realized the blood on her clothing was her own. That was all right, there was nothing left for her now, nothing to live for. She had got back her eyesight just to see her family die.

  She saw a movement near the door. Hari was half in half out of the passage. She stirred and looked up.

  ‘I’m all right, Kate,’ she said, ‘I’ll help you to get out, don’t you worry, my lovely.’

  ‘It’s too late, Hari, don’t grieve for me.’ Kate heard her own voice thin as a thread. There was no need for Hari to help her, she was going with her family to her maker. She put her youngest son on the blankets tumbled from the pram; any minute now she would lie down beside him and let the angels take them all together.

  Hari managed to move a little way towards her.

  ‘I can see you, Hari,’ Kate whispered, ‘just as lovely as you ever were.’

  The dreaded sound of whining overhead, rushing downwards towards them ‘Another bomb,’ Hari cried, ‘oh Kate, my lovely, don’t die.’

  Kate found the strength to move. She fell across Hari protecting her with her own body and waited. There was a smile on her face as the second explosion plunged her back into darkness and demolished what was left of the house.

  Fifty-Five

  I watched Michael come across the fields, German fields, but looking just like the fields of home. My heart fluttered and danced as though I was still thirteen years old. I loved this man and I anticipated the moment when he’d take me in his arms and hold me close.

  He came close and when he kissed me I breathed him in, the man scent of his skin, the faint smell of shaving soap and fresh summer breezes. We held each other in the bright sunshine and then Michael took me upstairs to bed.

  Our loving was deep, slow, almost as if we were saying goodbye. The thought frightened me. Afterwards, we lay together with just a sheet over us, the hot sunshine pouring in through the window, lighting on us like a benediction.

  ‘I’ve only a few days’ leave,’ he said softly, blowing my hair with his breath. ‘The mission, it’s important; we have news of the Allies landing in France. We don’t know where exactly, not yet, but I promise to try not to kill anyone.’

  I put my hand over his sweet mouth to hush him. ‘Let’s not talk about the war.’ I turned into his arms, his chest was hot, lightly dotted with gems of sweat. ‘Love me again,’ I begged.

  The days passed like a honeymoon. I made the most of it. Perhaps this time was the only time I would own Michael, as if he was my husband only for now. We could not have been closer during the golden hours together.

  When he left me I waved as happily as if my heart wasn’t breaking and then I turned indoors, ran upstairs and flung myself on the bed and remembered every detail of our love and love-making, breathed in his smell from the pillows. At last I curled into a tiny ball and fell asleep.

  It was early in the morning when I heard a thunderous knocking on my door. I knew instinctively I’d been found out—the Germans had come for me. It was Fritz.

  Fritz came into the house and shared my breakfast—some weak tea and dry toast—every mouthful feeling like sawdust as I remembered Michael had gone.

  ‘We have an assignment for you; it’s dangerous.’ Fritz toyed with a crust of toast.

  ‘How kind, but I have to go to work or have you forgotten what you call “my cover”?’

  ‘Not today, idiot, today you must plead sickness, take time off. Today you will not be surprised when you hear the invasion of the Allies is to take place in Calais although we know different.’

  ‘So do the Germans, I thought that was part of the plan.’

  ‘It is but the enemy must be fooled into confusion.’

  ‘Germans are not that stupid,’ I said thinking of my friend Eva.

  ‘No, I grant you that, but lies and misinformation have been leaked through the right channels to convince the enemy that Normandy is just a sprat to catch a mackerel, you understand? We hope to send the enemy to Calais.’

  ‘I’d worked that out. And what is this “assignment”?’

  ‘You will help the incoming British troops to set up wireless signals at the bay now named “Sword”.’

  ‘I know that, I had the message, remember? In any case, the beaches are miles away.’

  ‘You have the jeep and you will have plenty of time to get to the coast, Anna.’

  ‘Anwn,’ I said. ‘I will not answer to anything but Anwn, it’s an ancient Welsh name.’

  ‘I don’t want you to look ancient.’ Fritz was just as stubborn as I was. ‘You must plait your hair, wear childish clothes. You still have the roundness of youth in your face. How old are you, Anna?’

  I closed my mouth firmly. He capitulated.

  ‘How old are you, Anwn?’

  ‘Old enough.’ I was seventeen, a woman.

  ‘All right. Here’s a map. You will take the radio to “Sword” and there you will hand it over to a bona fide British radio engineer.’

  ‘How will I know him?’

  ‘He’ll stop being shelled and shot and make a formal introduction! Don’t be stupid. I will come there and take over from you.’

  ‘So I’ll take the risk of carrying the radio miles across the country and you’ll have all the glory.’

  ‘I’ll probably end up with a bullet in my guts,’ Fritz said.

  ‘And if I’m caught with the radio before you come?’

  ‘That’s all part of the deal. You can say no if you want.’

  How could I say no? I nodded.

  ‘I’ll meet you on the road on the fourth to the sixth of June. The invasion is scheduled to take place, hopefully about then, though it could be later. The weather might make a difference. Anyway, remember to start off early in the morning, it’s a long drive.’

  He went away and I sat over my cold cup of tea and wondered how on earth I’d come from the little town of Swansea to be a spy in Germany. I went to the window and tried to picture Michael, my last sight of him as he walked away from me. I was determined not to cry but I did anyway.

  I arrived at work as usual and laid the groundwork for my ‘illness’. I grimaced at Eva as I sat down. ‘My monthlies are due, I’ve got belly ache.’ My German was very good by now, I’d almost lost any Welsh accent I’d brought with me. Luckily none of my friends knew the difference between Welsh, Scottish, English or Neutral Irish and by now no one could tell me from any other German citizen.

  ‘You look a bit pale,’ Eva said, ‘and your poor eyes are all baggy.’

  I grinned. ‘Michael’s been home.’

  Eva shot me a mischievous glance. ‘I have no sympathy then you lucky slut.’

  I rubbed my stomach. ‘I’m paying for it now.’

  ‘You are still a lucky slut! I haven’t seen my man in months—I’m fancying anything in trousers these days. I foam at the mouth if Heinrich comes anywhere near me.’

  Heinrich was a code maker and a code breaker and we all had great respect for him. He had bright eyes and pale gold hair and, as he rarely came into our little office, he was quite safe from Eva’s desires. In any case, she loved her husband desperately, just as I loved Michael; in that we had a bond. And I was about to betray her and all my German friends. I bent over my radio unable to hide my shame. My brief happiness with Michael had evaporated and I was once more back in the real world.

  Fi
fty-Six

  Hari heard voices above her. She tried to open her eyes but they were gritty with dust. She felt an arm hanging lifeless over her face and her memory came flooding back.

  ‘Kate!’ Her voice was a whisper although she felt as if she’d shouted out the name of her friend.

  They were all dead, the children, the two men, Hilda—and Kate? ‘Kate?’ Dust filled her mouth and Hari gagged on it.

  Someone tapped on the masonry above her and Hari tried to lift her head. She felt Kate’s body shift and tip sideways. ‘Oh Kate!’ Hari tried to move her arms but they were pinned by jagged pieces of bricks and mortar.

  ‘Help us.’ Her voice was faint but the tapping stopped. ‘Help us,’ she called again.

  ‘It’s all right, cariad, we’re coming for you.’ A face appeared in a gap above her grimed with sweat and dust. ‘Be still, we’re going to move the debris carefully, love, so not to hurt you.’

  The work was painfully slow but the light above her became steadily brighter, the weight gradually lifting away so that she could breathe more easily. Hari tried to lift her head again but her neck was wracked with pain and with a sob she fell back against the bricks again. All she’d seen for her effort was a glimpse of Kate’s hand with the wedding band shining golden in the light.

  A lifeless, waxy hand smeared with blood. Her friend was dead, they were all dead. Hari couldn’t stop the gasps of grief and pain escaping from between her swollen lips. Tears scaled her grazed cheeks as she let herself slip away into a fog of darkness.

  A week later Hari was discharged from hospital with little more than cuts and bruises. The nurse led her to the entrance. ‘You’ll have two black eyes for a while but you got off lightly, my girl.’

  Hari shook her head. ‘Except that I lost people I love.’ Her tone was disconsolate. The nurse touched her shoulder sympathetically.

  ‘I see that here every day,’ she said gently, ‘we’ve got to keep telling ourselves we’ll win this damn war, somehow.’