The Brightest Day

by Christopher Nicole

  James knew his reasoning was correct. The pundits in London, and Algiers, had no real understanding of the difficulties of maintaining a large force of guerillas in the field.

  “In any event,” Huet went on, “The raid seems to have been a success. Two nights ago we heard a huge explosion. That can only have been the munitions dump in Grenoble.”

  “Two days ago,” James said. “But the assault party has not returned.”

  “Well, we do not know exactly what happened. Returning will not have been easy. But I am sure they will make it. Some of them, anyway.”

  “Some of them,” James muttered.

  “Well, major, another inescapable fact of war is that people get killed. We must hope that the casualty list will not have been too high. Now, we are almost there. You will have a hot meal and some wine, and a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow it will all look much brighter. Tomorrow I will show you our airstrip, eh?”

  *

  Once, James reflected, he would have utterly shared the colonel’s point of view. It was the only point of view; no commanding officer, whether he be second lieutenant or field marshal, could ever order men into battle if he were concerned for the life of any one of them. Probably that was why women had always in the past been excluded from front-line duties. But this was a different kind of war to any fought in the past, and there could be no question that Liane, and Amalie, were as proficient fighting machines as any professional soldier. But the thought of Liane dead or, worse, captured… He had had to order her into battle often enough, and every occasion had been traumatic, save for the two occasions he had been able to lead her himself. But those other times had been once removed, as it were, however anxiously he had sat by the radio, waiting for news. This time was immediate, and real, and virtually unbearable.

  He could do nothing but pretend the indifference of the experienced officer, accompany Huet on an inspection of the airstrip – and observe with some concern that there was indeed a great deal to be done, and a long time to go, in the absence of any mechanical aids before it could possibly be operational – and wait with increasing apprehension until two days after his arrival he was awakened by the opening of the door of the hut he had been given as a home, and there she was.

  *

  He sat up, staring at her in the dawn light behind her. As always, it might have been yesterday that he had last seen her, just before he had flown away from the Chartrin’s farm; over a year ago. Sometimes he wondered if she would ever change. But then, he did not wish her ever to change. She knelt beside his cot.

  “James! It is so good to see you.”

  He ruffled her hair and held the nape of her neck to bring her face forward for a kiss. “I gather you’ve been up to your old tricks.”

  She smiled. “Amalie’s tricks. She is really very accomplished. It was a glorious bang.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Oh, yes. But there were casualties. Four men. Four good men. One of them…” she sighed.

  “Someone I know?”

  “Philipe Chartrin. You remember Philipe?”

  “I remember Philipe. A rather surly young man.”

  “He was jealous of you. Now… but what is worse is that we did not see his body. He just did not join us when we assembled. He could have been captured.”

  “In which case your position here is blown.”

  “Philipe would never betray us, betray me. No matter what they do to him.”

  James decided that it would do no good to tell her that there was no man alive, or woman, who would be able to withstand the sort of torture the Gestapo could apply; except perhaps Jean Moulin. But he had to say, “You know you shouldn’t have done it?”

  She stood up and began to undress. “It is my business to harm the enemy.”

  “It is your business to obey orders. This place, this establishment, is supposed to be top secret, until the generals consider the time is right to activate it. If the Germans track you up here…”

  Naked, she stood above him. “Move over.” He obliged and she slid beneath the blanket beside him. “These cots were never intended for two. I will have to get on top.” This she did. “Oh, how I dream of this. And all you do is scold me.”

  He put his arms round her to hug her. “Don’t you think I dream of this too? But…”

  She kissed him. “You worry. My business is to harm the Germans, your business is to worry about it. We were a group of twenty. That is not giving away any secrets. I always operate with groups of that size. So I have shifted my position away from the Massif. That is understandable. Since poor Jean was taken the Boche have established a permanent presence in and about Aumont. But they will have expected me to tum up somewhere else. Now they have to start looking for me all over again.”

  “Hold it a moment. You are speaking as if you think they will know you were responsible for the destruction of that arms dump.”

  “Well, of course they do.”

  “How?”

  “We did not kill all the guards. I let the survivors see me, and I told them who I was.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I am the symbol of the Resistance. As long as I am known to be in the field, carrying out my attacks, so will every other Resistance group. Now we have been serious for too long…” She worked her body on his, left him incapable of coherent speech for several minutes, while she sighed her way to orgasm after orgasm. Then she lay with her lips against his neck while they both regained their breaths.

  “You will make me think you have not had a man since last we were together.”

  “Or that you have not had a woman,” she riposted and giggled. “I have not even had any Germans to seduce.”

  “And none of these three thousand blokes have had aspirations?”

  “I think they are all afraid of me.”

  “Even your own people who came with you from the Massif? You said there were fifty of them.”

  “There were. But they are more afraid of me than any of the others.”

  He was frowning. “These fifty men, just disappearing from their homes… Won’t they be missed? I mean by the Germans. If they are really in strength around Aumont.”

  “They are used to sudden disappearances. Just about every man who thinks he is about to be called up for forced labour in Germany disappears.”

  “But this chap Philipe; he would be exempt from any labour conscription, wouldn’t he? If he is needed to work the farm.”

  “Yes. But that being so, they wouldn’t even bother to look for him. Anyway, the Chartrins are virtually under German protection at the moment.”

  “Say again?”

  “The daughter, Gabrielle… Surely you remember Gabrielle?”

  “I do indeed. A pretty girl.”

  “Well, she has a German beau.”

  “Good God! How did she do that?”

  “I have no real idea. But she does. An officer, no less. Amalie and I would have had to leave the farm anyway, even without your orders. But as long as he goes calling, the Chartrins are safe.”

  “Li, darling, we are going to win this war, you know.”

  “I have never doubted that.”

  “And it is going to happen quite soon. Perhaps this year. When it does, there is going to be an awful lot of settling of old scores, of reckoning with people who have collaborated with the enemy.”

  “Shit! I never thought of that. Those people are some of the most faithful I know.”

  “But only you know that. And you’re not likely to be there when the Germans finally surrender or are even driven out of the south of France. Do they still have the radio?” She nodded. “Then as soon as they get me out of here, I’ll be in touch with them to warn them.”

  “You’ve just arrived and you want to leave again.”

  He kissed her. “Well, I am going to be here at least until you have completed the airstrip; there is no other way I can leave. I gather from Huet that we could be talking in terms of at least a
month.”

  “At least,” she said. “Oh, it will be heavenly, having you here for a whole month. We have only once had that, before, and then—”

  “I was too badly wounded for you to be able to do much more than change my dressings and give me a quick flick from time to time.”

  “This time will be different. When you say the War will be over this year, do you mean the Allies are actually going to invade this year? After so many promises? I cannot believe it.”

  “That is what this place is being set up for. To come to life, constantly replenished with troops and munitions, to stab the enemy in the back once the invasion is under way. That is why we do not want the Germans to become interested in us here until we are ready.”

  “I am in deep shit. You should hang me.”

  “I prefer the good old British Army method of confining you to barracks, this barracks, for a prolonged period. But the War could be over even before the invasion. Joanna has been in touch.”

  She rose on her knees, still straddling him, and threw off the blanket. “She’s all right?”

  “At the moment, as far as I know. You know she’s married Hoeppner?”

  “Has she? What a hoot. He was a really nice fellow. But… won’t that make her even more of a collaborator than Gabrielle?”

  “Not if, when the roof finally falls, she can get to us before a lynch mob can get to her. But it’s what she got in touch about that matters.”

  “Tell me.”

  He did so, and she listened with rapt attention.

  “What a coup that would be,” she said when he had finished. “But you say your government wouldn’t support it?”

  “Sadly, no.”

  “They are cretins.”

  “I agree with you, at least part of the time.”

  “But you think she’ll go ahead with it?”

  “I believe she will continue to encourage the conspiracy, yes.”

  “God, if she could bring it off… but the risk.”

  “You do realize that if Helsingen is involved, then Madeleine is too. And the way the Nazis react to conspiracies against them… The niece you’ve never seen, either.”

  “Hitler’s god-daughter,” she said thoughtfully. “How soon will it happen, do you think?”

  “I would say it has to be soon.”

  *

  Joanna got out of the car in the forecourt of Gestapo Headquarters in Berlin and entered that so familiar doorway. It was a damp early June day, the sixth, but the weather appeared to be bad all over Europe. The weather was in keeping with her mood. She had enjoyed the past two months, living as a housewife, and on the Channel coast as well, even if she had been surrounded by a mixture of anticipatory elation and equally anticipatory apprehension, and not only because of the vast forces everyone knew were gathering just across the Channel, waiting to strike.

  She and Franz had had their own apprehensions. To her great relief, his adoration of her had proved greater than any hostile consideration of her treachery, as most Germans officers would have considered it. But then, he knew all her secrets, or he thought he did. If he had no idea that she was, and always had been, an SIS agent, and fully accepted her explanation that she approached James Barron with her story because he had been an old friend from before the War, he knew that she had always secretly supported Liane and therefore the Resistance. But he had a sufficiently male ego to be certain that now she was married to him those days were in the past. For all the tensions that surrounded them, the fathomless uncertainty of the future, whether the plot against Hitler succeeded or not, they had been happy these past couple of months.

  She had even enjoyed meeting Erwin Rommel again; an older, sadder, grimmer Rommel, so different to the totally confident, debonair young brigadier general she remembered from 1940. She had been surprised to discover that he remembered her as well, although, sadly, he remembered Liane more. But that figured. No man who had ever met Liane was likely to forget her, even without her name constantly being headlined in the German press.

  But now the honeymoon was definitely over. Himmler had never actually allowed her to retire from his service, merely given her prolonged leave of absence. Now he had summoned her back. Franz had been furious. “You are not to go on any more missions for him,” he had declared. “Those days are finished.”

  “I don’t see what mission he can possibly have in mind,” she had pointed out. “But I must go.”

  “And if he simply wants to sleep with you?”

  “Are you going to be jealous of that limp rag?”

  “God, it makes me so angry that a man like that can have such power. But there is another point. Suppose he has found out about the conspiracy, and your part in it, and intends to hand you over to someone like Roess for interrogation?”

  “I think if he had found out about the conspiracy, he would have sent a warrant for my arrest, rather than a mere request for me to go to him.”

  “You are so calm. Don’t you have any nerves at all?”

  “I think they all got burned up, long ago.”

  Which was a lie, she thought, as she walked along that unforgettable corridor. Sentries stood to attention, secretaries smiled at her; they all knew who she was. But no one could enter this building without a sense of apprehension, except perhaps Himmler himself. And if one happened to have a guilty conscience, it could be quite terrifying.

  She went up the stairs and was greeted by another secretary. “Frau Hoeppner. The Reichsfuehrer is waiting for you.”

  The double doors were opened for her, and she entered the office. “Heil Hitler!”

  “Heil!” Himmler came round his desk to embrace her. “You are looking splendid. Marriage agrees with you. Don’t you think so, Roess?”

  Joanna turned her head sharply and Roess grinned at her. “Indeed, Herr Reichsfuehrer.”

  What was he doing here? Could her nightmare be about to come true? Himmler looked genial enough, but she knew how two-faced he was. “Well, sit down, sit down,” he said. “Now tell me, Joanna, How is life in Boulogne?”

  “Tense. On a clear day we can see England.”

  “Do you know, I have never seen England?” Himmler sounded almost wistful. “But I am sure Field Marshal Rommel has things under control.”

  “He has certainly done wonders since taking command, sir. But I do not think he is content. He could do with more men and more resources.”

  “More men and more resources. That has been the cry of every commanding general since time began. Rommel was always complaining in Africa about shortage of men and materiél. Well…” He glanced at their faces, daring either of them to point out that Rommel had been defeated in North Africa, at least partly because he had run out of men and materiél. “In any event, I have brought you here to deal with a more serious matter. Have you seen these reports? I have had a list made up. March 26, the Phillips radio factory at Brive-la-Gaillarde, blown up. April 4, sabotage halts production at Broonzavia aircraft components plant outside Paris. April 6, sabotage halts production at Timken ball-bearing factory, also near Paris. April 28, several tanks blown up and some cars stolen – stolen! – from the Renault works outside Paris. April 29, Dunlop factory at Montlucon crippled; repairs had only just been completed after an RAF raid. May 2, steel works at Aubert and Duval completely shut down. May 3, 100,000 litres of acetone set on fire at Lambiotte plant in Premery. May 13, production halted at SP gun factory of Lorraine-Dietrich, Bagnieres-de-Bigorre. May 17, attack carried out on CAM ball-bearing plant at Ivry-sur-Seine. May 22, hydroelectric station at Bussy blown up. May 25, production of artillery pieces halted at Arsensal National, Tarbes. May 26, hydroelectric station supplying Tulle badly damaged. May 30, Decazeville colliery attacked.

  “The Fuehrer is absolutely furious. He wishes this so-called Resistance stamped out, and before the Allies can launch any kind of invasion.”

  “Hostages,” Roess said. “If we take sufficient hostages and start shooting them—”

  “That
has not produced any results in the past,” Joanna pointed out. “Why should it now, when they are almost daily expecting the invasion?”

  “Joanna is right,” Himmler said. “We must strike at their leaders.”

  “Well, Herr Reichsfuehrer, we have done this, successfully, whenever we have been able to identify them. Moulin, Delestraint…”

  “But not de Gruchy.”

  “With respect, sir, de Gruchy is not a national leader. She has a following of at most thirty—”

  “You think so.”

  “And in addition, we have heard nothing of her for some months now. Indeed, not since the capture of Moulin, and her raid on the wolfram mine. It is my belief that she was thoroughly scared by that, and that we shall hear little more of her.”

  “You believe,” Himmler said scathingly. “You should read this.” He threw the sheet of paper across the desk.

  Roess picked it up cautiously. “A munitions factory? Grenoble?”

  “I assume you know where Grenoble is?”

  “Indeed, sir. It is not a place in which de Gruchy has ever operated before.”

  “But she was there.”

  “Is this identification positive?”

  “I believe it is. Not only did she play her usual trick of making herself known, but one of her people was captured and he has admitted that she was the leader of the attack. And you say she commands not more than thirty men? This man has told us that more and more men have been assembling in the area south of Grenoble known as the Vercours. Do you know of it?”