As she ran her work-hardened little hands over his smooth, hairless body, Maria-Pia told herself blissfully that this was exactly as she had imagined it would be: he was cuddly, soft and small, like a child; it was what she needed to banish the inhibiting memory of the hairy, grunting, bestial Schwuler and come to terms with sex so that she would be ready for her Guido when they married, not made frigid for him by the vile recollection of that hirsute beast into whom she longed to plunge a kitchen knife.
In the morning Tommy Tindall, the first to wake, told Teoh later, "You were lying there asleep with a smile on your face like the cat who got at the cream, Charlie. I'm glad you like it here so much. Or were you dreaming about being rescued?"
But all he got in reply was an inscrutable oriental smile.
They were breakfasting when von Trampel came in. "I trust you slept well, gentlemen. I think it would be pleasant and civilised if you were to dine with me this evening. Your uniforms have been repaired and laundered: I have heard about the Luftwaffe entertaining British flyers whom they have shot down, and I believe the R.A.F. reciprocates: on the rare occasions, of course, when they have a German officer in their hands."
"Rare is right," Tindall said quickly. "They don't usually survive when we shoot them down."
Von Trampel frowned. "I think you are forgetting the courtesies normally observed between officers of your rank and mine, Flying Officer."
Tindall touched his forelock. "Sorry, sir."
Von Trampel was icy. "What were you in civilian life?" "I'm only supposed to give my rank, name and number, but I'm not ashamed to say I was an insurance salesman."
"Perhaps that explains it."
"Sure. I'm not officer class, you see. Sir." Tindall grinned cheerfully.
"Neither, I regret to say, are some of my officers. Perhaps I should invite one along this evening to keep you company." He turned to Teoh Tai Mo. "And you, Flying Officer... er... Teoh?"
"In civilian life? I was a millionaire." Charlie Teoh was ineffably bland about it.
Even von Trampel had to let that pass. He opened the seat of his shooting stick and sat on it. "Tell me about yourself, Flight Lieutenant Middleton."
"I suppose there's nothing specially secret about it: I was a schoolmaster."
"Really? Where?"
"Wellscombe."
von Trampel knew how to score points off the English. "Where on earth's that?"
"Somerset." Middleton, despite himself, was drawn and betrayed his annoyance.
"Forgive my ignorance, but I only know Eton, Harrow and Winchester."
"And do Eton, Harrow and Winchester know you?... Sir." Tindall asked.
von Trampel stood and folded his stick. "Don't be insolent." He limped huffily away.
When the door closed Middleton said quietly "He's a weirdo all right, with his shooting stick and Scottish accent. Don't upset him, Tommy: we're completely in his hands. Put his back up, and he'll kick us out of here at once: you know what that would mean; hello Gestapo, and goodbye any hope of escape."
They had a lot to occupy their thoughts. Middleton was thinking of Fay and that he would probably never find her again if he were sent to a prison camp in Germany. If he did ever manage to trace her, she would probably be already married. He fretted about his damaged leg that would handicap him when they made their attempt to escape. He would not hold the others back; if he couldn't make it, he would be left here alone: and the Gestapo would be savage in trying to find out how the plan had been made between them and their rescuers. He had a double incentive for getting away: to return to Fay and to avoid a merciless interrogation. He damned his injuries; it was humiliating to have to depend on others to help him to walk.
Tindall was worried mostly because of the despair of his wife if she did not hear from him, and the shock of cold official telegrams and letters. Their daughter had been a year old when he came overseas nearly three years ago: he had already missed too much of her life and if he were imprisoned now, with the end of his second tour of operations in sight, it would be like looking down a long tunnel with no light at the end. He had to get out of here; but he wasn't going to leave George.
Teoh was as keen to escape as they were, but hoped that the timing would not prevent another delicious episode with Maria-Pia. Both his companions would move more slowly and unsteadily than he: he made up his mind that they must all get clear, for he would not desert either of them although he had the best chance.
Zdenka came in with the doctor, who addressed them with professional detachment and no trace either of hostility or cordiality. She stayed to change their dressings, and when they were alone she whispered quickly "They come for you tonight. About two hours after midnight. When you hear aeroplanes, you must be ready. You stay here and they come for you."
"Are they going to bomb this house; or rocket it?"
Middleton asked. It would be bad enough getting out, having to be carried or supported, as it was; he didn't want it to become an obstacle race over heaps of masonry.
"No. They will pretend the attack is only on the harbour. While they attack, the soldiers will land from a special kind of ship and take you away."
"Surely the Germans will suspect that it's a rescue? We've never made a night attack before. Perhaps they’ll move us out of the house, or bring more guards here."
Zdenka smiled. "I will answer that later." When she had finished attending to them, she said "I bring Eva. She will tell you. '
The doctor had told Charlie Teoh that he need not stay in bed. Zdenka had brought him his own clothes and taken away the borrowed garments he had been given on the U boat. By the time he had dressed she was back, accompanied by Eva.
Eva smiled nervously, sensing the suspicion of the three men. She greeted them, then spoke to Zdenka; who in turn smiled and translated: "I asked her to tell you what will happen if they try to move you from here or send more guards. She cannot explain properly in English: she says she herself will kill as many Germans as possible. MariaPia does not know yet. We have not told many people. But when we tell Maria-Pia she will say the same: she will kill Germans too."
Eva nodded vigorously. "Yes, and Petar, my brother, he come also to help."
"Have you got guns?" Middleton asked.
"We have knives," Eva said. "Maybe we can get guns: we kill Germans and take guns."
"Can you bring guns for us?" Tindall asked. He didn't much fancy the idea of three women defending him.
"We will try," Zdenka said.
"And what about Klebrig and Schwuler?"
"Maybe we have to kill them also," Zdenka replied with a shrug. "I do not want to kill Klebrig; he is quite nice boy. But if he tries to stop us, we shoot; or..." She made a stabbing gesture.
Eva said harshly" Maria-Pia kill Schwuler if possible."
Teoh protested. "She's too young. And too small. Can't you keep her out of it?"
"We need everybody to help," Eva told him.
"What about von Trampel?"
"Don't worry." Eva clenched her teeth. "I make sure von Trampel will not stop you."
Tindall murmured "I don't think she's kidding, George."
Middleton, almost flinching himself under her hot, determined gaze, did not think so either.
Later in the morning Klebrig saunted in carrying some books; with Schwuler, his hand resting on the butt of a holstered Luger, glowering behind him.
"The Commandant thought you might like some light reading. He's also sent you down some cigarettes."
Tindall said "There'll be no smoking: the ventilation down here's too bad. But thanks for the books. What are they?"
"Reminiscences of Harry Lauder and a set of Walter Scott, I should think," suggested Tindall. "Where did your boss get his accent?"
"I understand he had a Scots nannie. And the books are P.G. Wodehouse." Klebrig put the volumes down on the table.
"He must have some sense of humour then," Tindall said." But we haven't noticed it."
"Maybe he'll get a
bit mellow after dinner. I can't stop and talk now: this old bugger won't let me come in at all if he thinks I'm getting too chatty." And in fact Schwuler did snarl at him and jerk a thumb at the door. "See what I mean? See you when I bring your lunch."
*
The tension at Afrona had, by late afternoon, become infused with an excitement that was almost as blithe as the anticipation of a party. The whole squadron had been stood down for the day. The pilots and navigators lazed in the mess, slept in their tents or lay dozing on the beach. By teatime they were refreshed and optimistic. Operating in pairs there should be little risk of collision. The flak gunners would find it hard to see them. At their low altitude, searchlights would not be effective. They would, everyone agreed, with the usual studied disrespect for the other Services, have only one worry; the ability of the pongoes to snatch the three prisoners without making a mess of it.
This cheerfulness was abruptly changed into a mood of frustration by a summons to the Ops. Room, where Wg. Cdr. Beale, looking worried for the first time, announced that the Meteorological Section had reported one of the sudden Mediterranean storms which happened almost without warning at this time of year; and forecast more storms, in the Adriatic, which would make the operation impossible. The group captain had no choice but to postpone the operation for twenty-four hours. They could only hope ("And pray, boyos," Ianto Parry-] ones intoned, interrupting him) that the delay would not permit a security leakage or give the Gestapo time to fetch the three prisoners away.
The storm began to blow in the Taf area as dusk settled. In the cellar, they were unaware of it. Only when Klebrig brought Middleton and Tindall their freshly laundered and ironed khaki drill slacks and shirts (shorts and rolled-up sleeves were forbidden when flying; long trousers and sleeves gave some protection from fire if an aircraft were set alight), did they learn of it.
"Good evening, sirs: wish I could say it's turned out nice again, but it's raining cats and dogs and the wind's howling like a regiment of banshees." He saw the disappointment on their faces and asked "Not planning to go anywhere, were you?"
"Don't be a damned fool," Middleton snapped.
Klebrig gave him a contemplative look and went out, as Zdenka came in. When the door was shut she said "This is a terrible thing. There are very bad storms everywhere. They cannot come for you tonight. We must wait until tomorrow night."
Sixteen
The snarling voices of a perverse Fate seemed to boom in their ears. They heard the manic laughter of malevolent spirits who had thrown slippery banana skins under their feet.
To Middleton, the whole series of operations since they had been sent to Bardoc seemed like one long, bitter taunt; a mockery of their efforts to prevail over a preordained pattern: whatever they did and whatever was attempted in their aid, they must be destined to stay in enemy hands for the rest of the war.
"Are you sure?" He asked Zdenka. "How do you know?''
"I am sure, because I have been to my home and I have heard with my radio. Secret message from Afrona."
"As long as the bad weather holds, the Gestapo can't come and fetch us," Tindall said.
"If we're well enough to go up and have dinner with von Trampel, we must be well enough to be moved," said Teoh.
They looked at Zdenka's serious face. "Have you heard anything about us being moved from here?" Middleton asked.
"No. Eva will hear when von Trampel sends the message. But I do not think he wants to: he is a German pig, but he des... despises the Gestapo. He will keep you here as long as he can."
"Even so, it can't be for much longer. We can't pretend to be more sick than we are, now: the doctor wouldn't be convinced. But after dinner- we may as well get a decent meal and try to learn a bit more about what makes von Trampel tick - I'll pretend to collapse a bit. And you, Tommy. Then we can make a bit of a fuss tomorrow and get the M.O. to stall off a move."
"What about me?" Asked Teoh ruefully. "Shall I fall down the cellar stairs and break my leg too?"
Middleton laughed at his crestfallen air. "No need to take it as far as that, Charlie: they won't move you without us."
Klebrig was waiting to escort them to the drawing room. Schwuler, looking truculent and disapproving as usual, lurked at the door to let them see the pistol at his belt. The sight of him brought home to Middleton that the three of them were poised on the edge of a great nervous wilderness into which too much reflection on their predicament would plunge them. They must not think about it; must pretend that they were reconciled to captivity without making any concessions to it. Too much calm and lack of depression would make von Trampel suspicious, but for their own morale they must avoid resignation.
Their host greeted them with his wintry smile. Middleton, helped up the stairs by Zdenka and Klebrig, was given a stout walking stick to ease his hobble.
"Permit me to present you to Major Holzkopf: I have invited him because he commands the anti-aircraft batteries and he speaks English." He turned to Tindall. "The major is a shopkeeper in private life." The implication was clear: counter-jumper and salesman were fit company for each other. Tindall saw Holzkopf look angry and redden. "And this is my second-in-command, Kapitänleutnant Wüstling."
The German and British officers bowed to each other and Wüstling said, in good English, "I hope you are all feeling better now and recovering from your wounds."
Hello, thought Tommy Tindall, detecting the faint lisp and sibilance in the German's speech, we've got a bit of a nancy boy here: have to watch it; those buggers have a woman's intuition. Mustn't let him twig anything. Instinctively prompted to smile at Eva, he ignored her.
They seated themselves with their whiskies and von Trampel observed genially that the foul weather should assure them all of a little peace and quiet for a while. "Your friends won't be visiting us, and we're confined to shore. But let's change the subject. Does any of you gentlemen know Germany?"
"I once went to a scout jamboree in the Black Forest," Tindall replied.
"Oh, really?" von Trampel's inflection made scouting and jamborees both sound unspeakably vulgar.
Screw the snob, Tindall thought. "And what's the news from the Gorbals?"
But von Trampel had turned his attention to Middleton, who had said "You must know England well, sir?"
"Scotland rather better. My sisters and I had a Scots nannie and I've spent many holidays fishing and stalking in the Highlands."
"And what do you sell in your shop, Major?" Tindall asked.
"It is one of the biggest chains of department stores in Germany: we sell everything. My family are the owners."
Tindall was beginning to understand von Trampel better every moment.
Teoh was chatting to Wüstling. "Are you a regular, sir?"
"Yes, I am. And I understand you are a businessman?" He was attracted to the chubby, youthful-looking little man with the peachy complexion and dear little hands and feet, dainty fingers and a full, curling mouth.
The conversations followed their trite, awkward course, everyone making a conscious effort to avoid being tactless, Zdenka and Eva avoiding the British officers' eyes. It was over coffee that Middleton slumped in his chair, leaned his head on his hands and said in an almost inaudible voice "I wonder if you'd excuse me: I think I've rather overdone things..."
von Trampel jumped up, concerned. "It was thoughtless of me: I should have noticed you were looking a bit unwell..."
Middleton said "I'm afraid I... I'm a bit g-groggy, too... I assure you I'm sober... it's just that I did lose rather a lot of blood..."
"My dear-r-r fellow!" von Trampel was genuinely solicitous. "Flying Officer Teoh, if you'd be kind enough to lend a shoulder for your friend to lean on..."
With the help of Klebrig and Zdenka, Middleton and Tindall were taken back to their cellar, where von Trampel came to see them a little later.
"Dinna worry about anything," he said. "Ye'll be all richt the noo: I'll make sure you stay here until you're quite fit enough to travel."
&
nbsp; "Mission accomplished," Tindall whispered as the door was locked behind him.
The morning brought a cheerful Klebrig with cups of tea and news that the storm had cleared and the sun was shining.
After the doctor's visit, Zdenka, who had stood by to translate for them, returned, accompanied by Eva. The girls' expressions gave warning of trouble.
"What's gone wrong?" Asked Middleton.
Eva, fists clenched with frustration as she tried to find the English words, said "Major Holzkopf... not like von Trampel... tell Hauptquartier..." She gave up and made an appealing gesture to Zdenka.
"Major Holzkopf has... grudge... is that the right word?... against von Trampel. He is very strong Nazi; party member I think. He sends information to Headquarters you are here. Now they will come for you."
*
Sqdn. Ldr. Grimes asked Hargreaves "How much reliance can we put on this information?"
"I’ll guarantee it sir, and you can have me court martialled if I'm wrong."
"Don't worry; I will!"
"It's from a reliable source, sir."
"Well, even if it's a trap, we're going ahead: we've got just once chance to pull it off and if we don't do it tonight it'll be too late: the Gestapo will have got them."
"There's a message from George Middleton, sir."
"Can you be sure it's authentic?" asked Beale, who had been listening without comment; for this was very much Grimes's personal affair.
"As sure as I am of the other signal, sir. They've been told that you're going to rocket the house, if it's the only way to get them out. He doesn't want you to: he says the German Commandant has been decent to them, at the risk of his own life, by not reporting to his H.Q. George says if you rocket the house, he's bound to be killed."
"Sounds to me," said Beale with a short laugh, "as if it's either us or his own people: he's going to get it one way or another, if he's been playing silly buggers with the Gestapo."
"I see Middleton's point," said the group captain, "but the decision doesn't lie with the wing commander; it's my decision; and my decision is that we knock that house down if there's the slightest doubt that we'll get the chaps out unless we do. But don't pass that on: they must be pretty shaken after more than 48 hours as prisoners and last night's fiasco. I don't want them to worry about anything, or it could ruin the whole show."
My Enemy Came Nigh Page 18
