The Lines We Leave Behind

by Graham, Eliza

  Five hours’ sleep and a bath and she’d be fine for the last training session she’d ever have with Robert. Perhaps he was thinking about this too.

  ‘This time tomorrow you’ll be packing up.’

  ‘I won’t have much.’ Certainly not as far as personal items were concerned. A few clean shirts, underwear and toothbrush. A lipstick and some hair-grips. Good quality, yet light and comfortable boots that Robert himself had selected. At least she wasn’t going somewhere like France, where the girls had to look like French women in every single respect. Amber was going to be with Partisans, a fighting force. She would be a combatant, not passing for a civilian and living under a cover story.

  She sat in her taxi feeling the disapproval oozing off the back of the driver. Robert was right. The Partisans would regard behaviour such as hers in an equally unfavourable light. Drinking. Sleeping with a man who wasn’t her husband.

  ‘I pick you up later,’ the taxi driver told her, pulling up outside her apartment. ‘Take you to the secret building.’

  So much for the location of SOE HQ being classified information.

  Yugoslavia would be a further step away from being Maud, she told herself as she got out of the taxi. She’d be Amber over there, Amber who operated sleekly and efficiently, who evaded the Chetniks and Ustaše militiamen. She was leaving behind Maud with her rackety past. This operation of hers would be a success, her opportunity to show both Robert and the discarded Maud exactly what she could accomplish.

  8

  June 1947

  I’m sitting on the window seat of my room looking out over the drive, it being too wet today for spending time in the garden. May lulled us into thinking that summer was going to be as it is in the books, sunny and bright. This cool and damp spell is not supposed to last, however. I hope the doves are dry in their dovecot.

  I get a good view of Dr Manners when he arrives for his next appointment with Jim and his other patients. He wears a smart mackintosh and a hat that seems to intimidate the rain from dampening it. Before he enters the main door Dr Manners pauses and looks up at the first floor. I freeze. Has he seen me?

  Stand down, I tell myself. This isn’t a surveillance exercise and I’m in my own room, exactly where I’m supposed to be. Indeed, I could push the bell and Ingrams or one of the others would come and let me out. I walk over to the button and place my fingers on the brass to show myself. But I don’t press it.

  Jim looks brighter this morning when we meet for coffee in the drawing room. ‘Dr Manners is a sharp man, Amber. Notices things.’ He pauses. ‘But every time I see him, there’s this cold feeling in the pit of my stomach just before I go inside his room. It’s fine as soon as I sit down. I don’t know what I’m worried about. It’s as though I’m still back in the war, waiting for . . . something to happen.’

  I know what he means about that sense of danger in the pit of the stomach, cold, sour tasting, heavy. Before I can stop myself I’m back there at the airfield in Italy, preparing to be flown to Yugoslavia. Young. Scared.

  Perspiration beads my brow. Jim’s preoccupied himself with a crossword. I mutter an excuse and go up to my room. Once I’m there I pick up my pen. I can control my feelings and update my journal by writing about the parachute drop.

  I’d trained for the drop in England and had been an assiduous learner, mastering the steps from jumping off a tower, from a balloon and then from the training plane. I found it easy to understand the physics behind parachuting: the way the chute increased my surface area and thus my air resistance, reducing the gravitational force that would otherwise bring me crashing to the ground.

  You can concentrate a lot on the parachuting, but it’s what happens when you hit the ground that’s the important part. Nothing prepared me for what would happen when I was safely on Yugoslav soil.

  The RAF sergeant eased the webbing of the parachute between Amber’s legs. ‘Just open a little wider . . .’ He blushed.

  ‘How indelicate. Lucky she’s not a married woman,’ Robert said. Everyone laughed in an over-nervous way.

  ‘Still can’t get over ladies doing this kind of thing,’ the sergeant said, a slight reproach in his voice.

  ‘What makes you think my agent is a lady?’ Robert said. Amber made a face at him. ‘Just make sure the straps are done up properly on her shoulders.’

  ‘I’d put my mother-in-law in those straps,’ the sergeant said, patting Amber’s shoulder. ‘Without the chute, though.’ He caught Robert’s expression. ‘She’s safe, sir.’

  But they couldn’t be entirely safe, could they? Several Allied liaison officers had already fallen to their deaths during drops onto the unforgiving mountains of Yugoslavia. And Amber and the rest of the team were now going to be descending on a zone they had not had time to research in detail, because of yesterday’s change of plan.

  She wasn’t going to be one of those who died. She would remember everything she’d ever been taught about parachuting. Robert crouched down in front of Amber, his gaze on her serious.

  ‘Remember how you threw up in the Highlands on a night exercise when the temperature was well below freezing? How you blacked out once because your muscles had used up all your oxygen and your brain couldn’t cope?’

  She shuffled uneasily on the hard floor. He’d obviously read all the notes on her training.

  ‘And how you and Naomi slugged it out in that sweaty gymnasium in Cairo?’

  She nodded.

  ‘You did all of that for a purpose. This is it, Amber.’

  She bowed her head. When she lifted it again he was still looking at her, intently, warmly. Her heart suddenly skipped a beat as the words I love him floated into her head. The realisation came to her at such an inopportune moment, and with what felt like such certainty, that she wanted to laugh. It was just nerves talking, wasn’t it?

  ‘This is for you.’ He pushed something small and metallic into her hand. A silver cigarette lighter. ‘I’ve had it personalised.’

  A small bird engraved on the side carrying a letter A.

  ‘It’s lovely. Thank you.’ The lighter felt warm where his hand had held it.

  ‘Well, let’s not get all sentimental.’ Robert took Amber’s hand, suddenly formal. ‘Best of luck, my dear. We look forward to receiving your first transmission in twenty-four hours’ time. Sorry for the last-minute change of arrangements.’ The original plan had been to parachute them around fifty miles farther east, much nearer Hungary. Increased German activity in that area had resulted in a revision. Naomi was not happy: it would take her far longer to reach Hungary now. She and Robert had quickly consulted the maps, deciding on a revised route.

  Robert moved on to wish the others similar luck. She watched him to see if he was giving Naomi a lighter, too, but he had his back turned, blocking her view. Then he was gone, the doors shut. Amber felt his absence like a change in pressure. She might never see him again; those murmured night-time confidences might have gone for good. She’d miss the talking as much as the physical intimacy. Nobody now knew as much about her as Robert did. Perhaps nobody ever would.

  The bomber bumped over the runway. For all its size, the Halifax was quickly airborne, its humming engines rendering conversation impossible. She didn’t want to talk, anyway. Closing her eyes, Amber sank back among the bags and cylinders of supplies for themselves and for the Partisans, which were to be dropped with them. You may find your hosts more enthusiastic about receiving the weapons, especially the Stens and Brens, and medicines than they are about you.

  Amber wore a flying suit, but her teeth chattered. She unrolled her sleeping bag and stuck her legs into it. Naomi sat beside her. Occasionally their eyes met and they exchanged half-smiles, though Naomi’s face still wore concern about the change of drop site.

  In the floor a hatch had been cut out, and when the light above it changed colour, they would drop out of it. Like bombs, Robert had told them, but hopefully landing with rather less noise.

  The despatcher offered ro
und a flask of hot toddy. The lacing of rum made Amber’s stomach lurch, but she drank. The toddy was a tradition, to settle your nerves before you plunged. She wondered where they were now. Passing over some of the Dalmatian islands, perhaps? It would have been reassuring to have picked out her childhood holiday spot like a little jewel on an azure velvet background, but the Halifax’s windows were blacked out and anyway it would be dark outside.

  The despatcher took the empty flask from the last of Naomi’s group, looked at his watch and gave them the thumbs-up. Perhaps the Partisans were already in position at the drop site, lighting fires for the pilot. Down below men and women would be anticipating their arrival, hoping that they could help bring about the great aim of ridding the Balkans of Hitler. I’m only twenty. How can someone like me really help anyone?

  The engine’s hum grew less insistent. The pilot would be slowing for the drop. The despatcher opened the circular hatch and flashed a torch signal down towards the ground. He must have been satisfied with the signal he received because he nodded at his passengers. Time to stand, roll up the sleeping bags and strap them onto rucksacks. The despatcher rolled the containers out one by one, reminding Amber of barrels of beer being delivered into a pub cellar.

  Amber and Naomi strapped their slip lines onto the hooks on the inside of the fuselage. When they jumped, the lines would unravel until their full length was reached, automatically opening the chutes. A red light flashed on. The despatcher raised and lowered his hand. The light turned to green. Naomi sat down, legs dangling over the hatch before the darkness beneath silently swallowed her up. Aaron jumped after her. Amber now. She sat at the hatch, watching the light and the despatcher’s hand, and then found herself in the dark air before she’d even realised she’d left the Halifax. The ground was already coming towards her – they jumped at low height to avoid radar. Below, the landing fires twinkled. Feet together. And there she was, on Croatian soil. The chute landed on the ground beside her. She tugged it towards her and released herself from it, then folded it quickly, as she’d been taught. Patrols of local pro-German Home Guards could be close by. Don’t keep your reception group waiting.

  Around her, she heard voices murmuring.

  A figure in dark clothing approached her. She saw the red star on his cap. ‘Eagle,’ she said, giving the password. ‘Zdravo.’ Hello.

  ‘Falcon,’ came the answer. Correct passwords given, the figure grinned at her. ‘Smrt fašizmu, slobada narodu. Death to fascism, freedom to the people. And welcome to Yugoslavia. Or what passes for it, these days.’ He reached out and tugged at her sleeve. Amber ducked the aluminium tube that was floating down to the ground. The wireless. She jumped aside as it thumped to the earth. A pack pony was led towards her. ‘We’ll load this on here,’ her companion said. Around her dark-clothed figures led more ponies onto the field, loading them quickly.

  ‘We should go.’ The man nodded at a boy standing next to him, who reached for the parachute in Amber’s arms. ‘We will take care of this for you.’

  Men, women and ponies were moving almost soundlessly off the field towards the cover of the beech and fir trees. The lamps to guide the pilot had already been extinguished. Above them the bomber’s engines sounded more distant. The whole operation had only taken minutes. Amber breathed in the cool air. ‘Ovdje sam. I am here.’ She spoke her childhood language to herself silently.

  ‘We have a long walk,’ her new companion told her. ‘Thanks to the Chetniks breaking through.’

  Chetniks; interesting. Robert had only mentioned German movements.

  ‘I’m Branko, by the way,’ he said, raising his right fist and clenching it in the Partisan salute.

  She saw he wore what looked like a former Yugoslav army jacket, but with breeches and boots that might once have belonged to a Wehrmacht soldier. She returned the salute with the traditional British version, palm out. ‘Amber.’

  ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Comrade Amber,’ he said in careful English. He was pulling a tin out of a pocket, offering her a cigarette.

  ‘How long have you been with the Partisans?’ she asked in Serbo-Croat, pulling out the lighter Robert had given her to light his cigarette and hers.

  ‘Since the beginning, since 1941,’ he told her proudly. ‘My mother and I were with Tito himself when he began the defence of our homeland in western Serbia.’

  Like coming over to England with the Normans, she thought.

  Branko moved forward to direct the man leading the ponies through the trees.

  A hand landed on Amber’s shoulder. She turned to see Naomi. ‘Safe landing?’

  ‘Yes. You, too?’

  Naomi nodded at one of her companions. ‘Just one slightly twisted ankle between us all, and he’s been given a ride on a pack pony.’ She grimaced. ‘Might be worse than walking on the ankle, given how bony that poor animal’s back is.’ She became more serious. ‘Unfortunately, it’s Samuel.’

  Samuel, also trained as a wireless operator, would be going on to Hungary with Naomi.

  ‘Shame we now have to move even farther to the south,’ Naomi said. ‘It’ll take us even longer to reach the Hungarian border. Increase the risks.’

  Every atom in her being was propelling her forward to Hungary to warn her people, Amber thought.

  They were walking between beeches and firs now, the air moist and resinous. Amber couldn’t resist drawing a breath, appreciating the difference from the odours, good and ill, of Cairo and the burnt-brick-and-metal reek of London. Boughs of evergreen or pine of about four foot long can be used to construct a shelter if it is necessary for an agent to live out in the open.

  Branko had returned. ‘How far are we marching tonight?’ Amber asked.

  ‘Twelve more kilometres.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry we can’t give you hot food and a rest when you’ve just landed, but it’s not safe.’

  ‘What’s our bearing?’ Naomi asked.

  ‘South, maybe south-southeast.’ He opened a map and showed them. ‘There’s a series of caves we can hide in for a few days until we’ve treated the wounded and things are quieter.’

  ‘That far south?’ Naomi said.

  ‘It’s not what I intended, either.’

  Naomi frowned. ‘I need to talk to my people about this. Can we send an emergency signal now, Amber, asking Cairo for a view on this?’

  Amber translated for Branko. ‘No time for that,’ he said. ‘Too dangerous to stop while you set up your wireless. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.’

  Naomi said nothing, but Amber could feel doubt radiating from her. ‘It’s only twelve kilometres,’ she told her. ‘You’re fit. Fast. Remember that race in the gym?’

  Naomi gave a little smile.

  ‘In daylight, when we know the situation with the Chetniks, you can easily make up the distance.’

  ‘If Samuel’s ankle heals quickly enough. But once we’re up on the karst the going is slower.’

  The karst was the limestone-dominated landscape, with its thin covering of trees on some slopes, and steep drops to waterfalls and streams. They walked on in silence, Branko ahead of Amber, whistling what sounded like a folk tune, in turn melancholic and upbeat. She recognised it. Mama had sung it to her when she’d been a small child, its lyrics telling of ill-fated love and loss.

  As her eyes accustomed themselves to the dark and her ears picked up more of the sounds around her, the sighs and grunts of people carrying heavy loads reached her from behind. She glanced over her shoulder. Stretchers, with wounded people on them. Carried by tired-looking men.

  Branko saw what Amber was looking at. ‘We tried getting the ponies to pull the stretchers, but the track is too rough and it jolts the wounded.’ After an hour, he raised an arm. ‘Odmor.’ Rest.

  A flask was passed around, containing something burning and strong, making her eyes water but warming the very core of her body. Amber sat on a rock rubbing her hands. She had gloves, but the cold still seemed to seep into her fingers. It was early in the
year to be up in the hills of Croatia at night. Her mind switched to Robert. He wouldn’t stay long in Bari, she knew. But he’d be there tonight, probably asleep. Or out in some bar. Why was she even thinking about Robert now?

  One of the young men standing beside them stiffened, removing his rifle from his shoulder in a single fluid movement, then placing a finger on his lips. Without a word being spoken the Partisans ceased their whisperings. A current of wariness ran through the group. Two men – boys, really – ran silently into the trees. Minutes passed. Nobody spoke. Even the ponies seemed to quieten.

  An owl hooted twice.

  ‘Chetniks ahead.’ Branko had moved silently back to them. ‘We’ll wait it out until they move on. They haven’t seen us, but they’re clustered around a bridge we need to cross.’

  Amber felt Daniel stiffen beside her. She knew he was thinking of the weapons they had brought with them. ‘We could take them out,’ Daniel muttered. ‘There’re enough of us.’

  ‘If it goes wrong, we’ll be left with a slow-moving trail of wounded we can’t take across that bridge,’ Branko said sharply. ‘It’s the only crossing. We can’t retreat because there’s nowhere we can shelter with the casualties. We can’t fight tonight.’

  Naomi sighed. ‘We can never fight our enemy, it seems.’ She said the words so softly that only Amber could hear. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to force the point, but it’s frustrating.’

  ‘Fighting isn’t our objective,’ Amber said. ‘Settling in with this unit is. We need to wait until we’ve made the transmission before we do anything else.’

  ‘We’ve been trained in night combat. We could be down at that bridge before they’ve heard us, slitting throats,’ Daniel said.

  ‘No.’ Amber heard the authority in her own voice with surprise. Technically, as liaison officer, she was superior to the others, but Robert had positioned this operation so that they would work in parallel.

  ‘We can defend ourselves,’ Naomi said. ‘We shouldn’t wait for the enemy to make the first move.’

  ‘We’re not under attack,’ Amber said.