Angels Don't Die

by Petrek, Soren

  They came from every part of Europe, Russia, England and the United States. Each had a story of a struggle; many had been part of the military in other countries. There were German soldiers who had come to the Legion after their defeat in the First World War. The dashing Colonel Amilakvari was a Russian Count. He’d fled the Bolsheviks in 1917 when the Tsar was deposed and the aristocracy murdered.

  Within a few days the Legionnaires’ long wait was over. On May 26th, 1942 Madeleine awoke to the sound of artillery. Madeleine ran to the command center and was among the first to arrive. Shells were raining down on the fort and in the early morning sunlight it was clear to see that Rommel’s tank and motorized infantry divisions were attempting to encircle the fort from the southeast.

  “Toche, make yourself useful. Find a gunnery team and see what you can do,” Colonel Amilakvari shouted, ducking as an Italian shell whistled harmlessly to the rear of the fort. Madeleine moved towards the forward entrenched positions, a grim smile pasted to her face. Several of the other Free French officers looked with surprise at Amilakvari. He met their gaze, resplendent in his white coat, cape and Kepi. He was a favorite of General Marie Pierre Koenig, the leader of all of the Free French battalions defending the fort. Amilakvari’s expression was clear and didn’t invite challenge. The British Special Operation agent would fight alongside the Legion.

  Madeleine found her way to the forward most line of .75 mm guns. She found the team she was looking for, grabbed a heavy shell from the carefully arranged pile and passed it to the next man. Her training included the operation of heavy artillery and tanks. She lacked the honed experience of the gun crew but intuitively fit into the rhythm of loading and firing, keeping well back from the recoil of the weapon.

  The French guns pounded into the advancing Italian armor. The area surrounding the fort had been heavily mined and all of the field weapons were directed right where an advancing army would be most vulnerable.

  In less than an hour of a sustained barrage by both sides, the Italians had lost more than half of their tanks and ninety of their men had been captured. The first wave of Rommel’s assault withdrew; but the defenders at Bir Hakeim knew the worst was yet to come. The entire complement of Free French numbered 3600, while Rommel commanded many times that number. Given their superior and well-defended position, they would be able to hold Rommel back from his march to the north for a long while.

  The Free French held Rommel off for more than two weeks. Madeleine marveled at the bravery the Legionnaires displayed. Colonel Amnilakvari seemed to be everywhere at once, his cape flowing in the wind, his face set in grim determination.

  The battles became a blur for Madeleine whose bravery was openly applauded. Casualties among the defenders were surprisingly few given the huge losses among the enemy. She and several others had repeatedly driven the open topped lightly armored Bren Carriers out to meet the German heavy tanks. Madeleine’s aim with the machinegun and anti-tank rifle was devastating, and more than once she pulled wounded men to safety when their vehicles were hit by enemy fire. When the fighting stopped for brief periods the men spoke to Madeleine as one of their own. She kept to the Legionnaires. When other Free French soldiers attempted to engage her in conversation, the murderous looks they received from the Legionnaires kept the other soldiers away. Madeleine shared their food, tobacco and the misery that low water provisions occasioned. There was no water for bathing or washing clothes. Sand was everywhere and in everything. Madeleine shared in every task, cleaning weapons, removing the dead, treating the wounded. She shared in their ribald jokes, having earned their respect.

  At the end of the second week there began to be discussion of moving out. The British high command had sent word that they were to begin an orderly retreat to fight again another day. The Free French had demonstrated to the world that they were an effective fighting force, and the Legion had proven while some of their brother Legionnaires were commanded by the German controlled Vichy government, the defenders of Bir Hakeim bled and died for France, as they had done since 1831, and not for a puppet government controlled by their enemies. Madeleine was summoned to the command center for an officer’s briefing.

  Madeleine looked around the small room. Every man was caked in sand and dried sweat, their eyes were red from dust and from the smoke of battle and the constant barrage they were subjected to by the Luftwaffe and Rommel’s field artillery. She motioned for a cigarette from the man standing next to her. At least cigarettes were in ample supply; unfortunately food and ammunition wasn’t. Madeleine and the other officers stood quietly, each considering the severity of their situation. Colonel Amilakvari walked into the room, and although he had spent most of his time moving back and forth between the trenches immediately facing the enemy, his uniform was free from sand and sweat. He appeared refreshed and ready to fight on.

  “Legionnaires,” the Colonel began, “I have good news. While many of you may like our new accommodations here at Bir Hakeim, we have been ordered to evacuate. I am informed that we have carried out our mission heroically and with distinction. We are considered too valuable to lose to Rommel.” Amilakvari turned towards Madeleine, “Toche, we are to meet up with the British Eighth Army in the north, somewhere in the vicinity of Tobruk. Unfortunately, I have no authority to order you to assist in our evacuation and I expect your superiors might want you back in France.”

  “Yes Colonel, I’m sure they do, but I’d like to travel with you to Tobruk and seek my passage to Gibraltar and home that way.”

  Amilakvari was clearly pleased and said, “We couldn’t ask for a better companion. Now I have something of great importance to ask you. You are a French citizen and an officer, so I am completely within my rights as a Colonel in the Free French military.” As he spoke, the other officers drew near. “I know that France is your home, and the Legion is mine. If you will join us, then the Legion will be your home as well.” Amilakvari gestured to the other Legion officers in the room. They had each witnessed Madeleine’s bravery, her savage fury in combat and her devotion to her fellow soldiers. They each nodded their approval in turn.

  “I don’t understand, Colonel,” Madeleine said. “Am I being offered a chance to join the Legion? I thought that women couldn’t serve in the Legion.”

  “We made one exception before, and I can assure you she doesn’t fight. Quite frankly, there are few that fight like you do. You are a wonder to behold. The Legion should be your home. Only happenstance placed you in the British army. You belong to the people of France and their defenders. Join us,” Amilakvari said.

  “I will,” Madeleine said, without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Then accept these,” Amilakvari said, holding out a full uniform and Kepi. “We might get separated in battle; I would feel better if you are wearing a uniform. I do not want you shot as a spy.”

  “I will not be captured and I cannot surrender,” Madeleine answered.

  “Then you are a Legionnaire already. Our moto, ‘Legio Patria Nostra’, means the Legion is our fatherland,” Amilakvari said.

  “I understand, and I accept. I believe the response is, the Legion is our strength,” Madeleine responded in a firm voice.

  “You fight like a Legionnaire, you kill like a Legionnaire, and you are a Legionnaire. Wherever you go, whatever you do, from today until the hour of your death, the Legion owes you a great debt. We are family and we will come to each other’s aid in times of need. We will fight together to the death, with honor if that is our destiny,” Amilakvari said.

  The Legionnaires all returned Amilakvari’s salute. Madeleine did as well.

  “The honor is mine, Colonel. I am very interested in your evacuation plans. I would like to meet up with Rommel some other time. I have much unfinished business.” The men chuckled.

  “We’ve been ordered to retreat to meet up with the British southwest of our position. The evacuation order came last night,” Amilakvari said.

  “That’s good sir, we have little ammunition left.
We used the last of the mortar rounds pushing the Germans back. I should say, Lieutenant Toche and Captain Durand used the last of the mortars pushing back the panzers,” Captain Thomas said.

  “Then the orders couldn’t have come at a better time. We need to clear a 200 meter wide evacuation corridor through the minefield to the rear and west of us. Once the Germans realize that we are out of ammunition and retreating, they’ll try to turn it into a rout. Captains Bricogne and Durand will be in command of the sappers to clear the minefield. Toche, you and Lieutenant Dewey organize the men for close quarter combat. They will try to encircle us to cut off our means of escape, but will be held back by the remainder of the minefield. It’s likely that some of the enemy will get through.”

  “Colonel, I think we should dig in strategically placed machinegun nests along the escape route as it is cleared. Most of the men will be on foot. Therefore, I believe we should clear a narrow path first and then broaden it if we have the luxury of time,” Madeleine said.

  “Men, what do you think?” Amilkavari said addressing the rest of his officers.

  There were nods of agreement all around.

  “It’s settled then. You each know your assignment. Now let’s get going,” Amilkavari said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Years later and a desert away, Madeleine played the memories of Bir Hakeim over and over in her mind as she kept pace through the night. The temperature was both a relief and a burden as it cooled down. The cold did nothing to slack her maddening thirst and seemed to draw even more moisture from the air. It helped her to remember those cherished days in the desert with the Legion. The battle had been terrifying, but the evacuation was a success even though it was haphazard as Madeleine suspected it would be. Regardless, she’d lived to fight another day.

  Many of the officers with which she fought died shortly after the evacuation. Colonel Amilakvari, a short period of time later, had been taken down by a shrapnel wound through the cloth of his kepi. Perhaps he would have lived had he worn a helmet, but he would have none of it. He wasn’t about to spoil his image by wearing a ‘tin hat,’ as he called them. He was wrapped in his cape and buried a hero. To those that survived him, including Madeleine, he was the Legion.

  The moon helped Madeleine to keep to the road that wandered through the sand hills of the Judea. Despite her predicament, there was endlessness and a stark beauty to the desert. How could she hate something that bore her no ill will? It was a marvel of nature, forbidding and wonderful all at once. She was the intruder; she was unprepared for the challenges of the desert. The desert held no blame.

  Madeleine’s legs ached with fatigue and the lack of water and nutrients. She knew that following the pain, there would be a loss of control and her steps would become shaky. She tried to calculate the distance she had traveled and took confidence in the fact that she must be nearing the halfway point. Each step carried her closer to the cross roads and civilization. There was little chance that any vehicles would be on this road in the middle of the night. It truly was a road to nowhere. She hoped it wouldn’t be the road to her grave.

  She chastised herself for relying too much on her assumptions concerning the assassin sent to kill her. She never should have become separated from her vehicle and water. Had she stayed in the city, many innocent lives would have been lost in the ensuing gun battle. She had to draw her enemy out, but made a serious tactical mistake while doing so.

  Madeleine remembered that it is easier to be the hunter and not the hunted. She should not have rejoined the others when she did. A messenger could have been sent from the Mossad headquarters and she could have taken on the role of the hunter. It was fair to say that it was a new experience to carry out an operation such as this while worrying about the safety of a team, especially when they were loved ones. But there was nothing normal about this mission. She should have expected trouble when things seemed to be going so well, and now her error had put the others in jeopardy. What if the killer targeted her team? The delay I’ve caused puts Tracy in danger longer, she thought.

  Madeleine scanned the road ahead of her. The view was always the same, more dusty road and sand hills. She hoped that the nocturnal hunters would stay out of her way. She didn’t worry about scorpions, but watched the road for movement. A snake bite at this point would seal her fate. So far she hadn’t seen any snakes, and that was one thing to be thankful for.

  She allowed herself to think briefly about rescue, but that was a dangerous road to go down. She assumed that Hartmann would have shared his information with Jack and John, but they’d have no idea where to start looking. Her hope rested with herself and the next day. If there were people searching for her, they would have no chance of seeing her at night. If they sent a plane, she had no flashlight to make a signal. Whatever voice she had left would never sustain a yell.

  It was nearing morning when Madeleine began to have trouble focusing on the road. Shortly after that the whisper inside her began. It was not the voice she expected, the voice of the embodiment of hate that she carried inside. It wasn’t Yves or Jack, as she had hoped; it was the voice of her old friend Amilakvari, who told her simply, “Legionnaire, march or die.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Hans Meyer was asleep in his bed when a junior officer entered the room. It was foolish to touch any combat soldier while he slept, so the adjutant cleared his throat with increasing volume.

  “Miguel, you can stop choking now, I’m awake,” Meyer said keeping any anger out of his voice. He liked the young Spaniard and knew the interruption must be something important.

  “Sir, there’s a phone call.”

  “I hope for the caller’s sake, it’s a national emergency or something equally important.”

  “The caller said to mention his name, Sir. He said he was Horst Stenger.”

  “Are you sure?” Meyer said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

  “That’s what he said, Sir.”

  “Give me a moment while I throw on some clothes. Please tell him I’m coming.”

  “Yes sir,” the adjutant said as he turned and stepped out of the room.

  Meyer walked into the adjoining room and took a seat next to the phone.

  “Horst?” Meyer said into the phone as soon as he picked it up from the desk. “Is everything okay, are my parents alright?” he said in German.

  “They are fine, Hans. I am sorry to call so late at night. I was just awakened myself a short time ago. Believe it or not, I am calling on behalf of a Legionnaire of great renown. She is in trouble and needs help.”

  “She?” Meyer said with some trepidation. “There has only been one woman in the Legion to this day ……….” Meyer said hesitating.

  “L’ange de la mort, the Angel of Death,” Stenger added. “I know it sounds fantastic, but she needs your help.”

  “Even all these years after the war, hearing her name sends shivers down my spine. She had no love of the SS. That is for certain,” Meyer said quietly.

  “She is a hero of the Legion, Hans.”

  “Uncle Horst, please don’t insult me. I know about her service to the Legion. The Legion saved me after the war and it’s my home. I’ll do whatever I can to help a fellow Legionnaire, even when that Legionnaire hated the SS and would happily kill anyone then or now that was associated with my former comrades,” Meyer said.

  “Hans, I meant no disrespect. I just didn’t know how you would react if you were asked to help her,” Stenger said.

  “Do you know her personally? How is it that you are involved with her?”

  “I never told you because her wartime activities remain classified. But I can tell you this much, Willi and I initially captured her and then set her free. It had to do with the tragedy at Ouradour Sur Glane,” Stenger said referring to the slaughter of over 800 French civilians in the small town of Ouradour by a renegade SS division.

  “Tragedy is one word for it. Nightmare is another,” Meyer agreed. “You know I will help. I owe you tha
t for my father and the Legion. But please do me one favor?”

  “Anything you want,” Stenger said.

  “After this is all said and done, please tell the Angel of Death that I’m one of the good guys now,” Meyer said.

  “You always were Hans. I will make sure she knows it.”

  “Thank you. Now what can I do to help.”

  “We believe that she is lost in the Judean desert. She had a run in with a PLO hired gun and fled out into the Judea.”

  “Do you know approximately where?”

  “We assume about a 50 mile radius from where the desert begins, outside of Jerusalem.”

  “That is a lot of ground to cover. How will we accomplish it?”

  “By plane,” Stenger answered.

  “I don’t have any planes at my disposal.”

  “I have a plane, a jet courtesy of the Mossad.”

  “This gets better and better, Horst. Now the Mossad is involved. They don’t like the SS much either,” Meyer said.

  “It’s okay. The leader of the Mossad is well aware of your assistance to those Jewish families at the end of the war.”

  “Who is their leader, or is that something I don’t want to know?” Meyer said, letting out a slow sigh.

  “Berthold Hartmann.”

  “Oh no, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, you mention Berthold Hartmann. He might have killed more Nazis than anyone,” Meyer said.

  “Don’t worry; he will appreciate your help. He has close ties to Madeleine. He’ll assist with providing a plane, a Mirage jet fighter. We just need a pilot. Can you help?”