by Andrew Wood
“Well then, you will either have to stay here or catch a train. But I am not wasting another full day at the mercy of the vagaries of the rail system. This....” He was suddenly thrown forward as the car braked hard for the rapidly approaching security barrier and guard hut at the entrance to the airfield. His knees cracked painfully on the metal frame of the front seat, although he managed to land his hands on the seat back to brace himself from being launched over it. Lemele was less prepared and slid fully off the seat and onto the floor. He grabbed her arm to help her back up, noting that her body seemed to be entirely limp. “This plane can get me to Bordeaux in two hours, so that is what I am taking. Come with me, or make other arrangements, it is your choice.”
The driver now seemed in no hurry and was chatting and joking with the guard, who was leaning close up to her window, even though she revved the engine all the while. Marner guessed that they were extremely well acquainted, judging by the intimate tones of their voices. The guard had barely glanced at the papers that Marner and Lemele had waved at him, instead preferring to keep his eyes locked into those of the driver. Marner was just about to protest the urgency of their business when the car rocketed forward again as the barrier began to rise slowly, causing Marner and Lemele to instinctively duck in alarm, fearing that the car would strike it. The driver did now keep to a brisk rather than lethal speed within the confines of the airbase, probably due to the high level of activity and pedestrian and mechanised traffic. They weaved a course between a maze of hangars and huts; through half-opened doors they could see aircraft being worked upon. There was no sign of bomb damage; Marner had heard that German airfields were being extensively targeted to render both the aircraft caught on the ground and the airfield non-operational. Perhaps this was too far south to be of interest.
They were driven directly onto the edge of the runway and delivered right up to their waiting plane, engines already running, and the propellers causing the air to vibrate and shimmer. Marner stepped out of the car, Lemele momentarily forgotten as he struggled to take in the incredible sight that his eyes beheld. On the one hand, it was just one of the ubiquitous Junkers 52/3’s, an old and slow design that was instantly recognisable by the three huge radial engines, one of them mounted on the nose, but in particular by its corrugated metal body panelling that had given rise to the nickname ‘Iron Annie’. Marner knew from personal experience that these beasts were slow and noisy. He also knew by reputation that their lack of armament, speed and manoeuvrability had resulted in a withering attrition rate in military use for what was actually a passenger service design dating from the early 1930’s. He recalled the words of the adjutant at Avenue Foch regarding the folly of taking to the air over France at the moment.
What made this particular example so bizarre was the metal hoop fixed underneath the plane, spanning fully in diameter from the nose to the tail fin. At first he wondered if it might be some temporary attachment that was used whilst it was stationary on the ground; on closer inspection he saw that it appeared to be securely mounted to the nose and tail of the plane, as well as where it passed under each wing tip. Other than that, it looked to be a relatively new example of the Iron Annie and he took some comfort from this.
Someone was waving at them from the door in the fuselage behind the wing and he remembered that they were late. He turned just as Lemele emerged from the car, still ghostly pale and shaky on her legs, seeming ready to collapse back into the car under the onslaught of the thundering roar and the waft of hot air and exhaust fumes. Smiling reassuringly, more than he actually felt, he stepped behind her to reach into the car for their bags, cutting off her retreat. Nudging her in the back with her bag to propel her reluctantly forward, they both high-stepped over the hoop and advanced up to the door. Marner pushed the bags up through the opening and they were accepted by a grinning crewman wearing the classic flying jacket, hat and goggles.
Lemele did not react when Marner motioned her to ascend the steps first; she looked at him, wild-eyed and mouthing inaudible words. He grew impatient and flapped his hand upwards, trying to convey the message that she should hurry up and get in. When she reached the top of the small ladder she hesitated again; he was debating whether it was more prudent to use his hands or shoulder to give her an encouraging shove in the behind, but the need was obviated when hands reached out from inside and hauled her aboard.
As soon as he too was inside the crewman reached around him and yanked the door shut. The noise level dropped considerably, changing in tone from the rasp of the propellers and engines to a low booming that was more tolerable. There were several windows letting light into the interior of the fuselage, which showed the bare bars and spars of the aircraft frame under the outer metal skin. He followed Lemele forward, weaving past the butts of the MG15 machine guns that were mounted in the windows on each side, racks of ammunition hooked into the frame above. He also had to step past what appeared to be a large motor complete with control panel fixed to the floor.
They reached the seats behind the bulkhead of the flight deck, two banks of three facing inwards towards each other. One set of three was already taken, the occupants being an elderly civilian of approximately sixty years of age in a shabby suit, flanked by two young soldiers. Or at least Marner assumed that these two were military, based upon their short haircuts and lean, muscled physiques. They wore loose grey combat fatigues but without any markings of unit or rank nor even service, giving no indication of whether they were army, navy or air force. Both wore external shoulder holsters; Marner could only see the butt end poking out from under the armpit of one of them and, from the large flat end with its magazine clip and wooden grip plates, it looked to him very much like one of the powerful Colt 45 automatics. Their machine guns, of a type that he didn’t recognise at all were under their seats. One soldier was apparently asleep, despite the noise; the other nodded at Marner and then looked away again out of the window, not interested in engaging in conversation. The civilian continued making notes in a pocketbook, not even acknowledging their presence. This individual appeared relaxed and Marner had the clear impression that he was under the protection of his companions on either side, not under arrest. Marner considered asking them for identification, just for sport, but then reconsidered. This trip was Hauger’s favour and these might even be Hauger’s operatives, so it would not be a good idea to aggravate the sponsor, especially since Marner might soon be needing transport back to Toulouse.
The cheerful crewman installed them in their seats and then thumped on the bulkhead wall before retiring to the rear of the aircraft. The engine note rose and the plane jolted into motion, which caused Lemele to groan and grab his wrist. This in turn prompted the solider to return his attention to them. Marner smiled and informed him, “Her first flight,” before turning to her to offer some reassuring words, although there was no sign in her terrified face that she heard or believed him.
They taxied slowly out towards the runway and Lemele seemed to relax a little. Through the window he saw a BF109 fighter plane waiting on the edge of the runway, its propeller turning. By contrast to their own plane, this fighter with its matt tan and green camouflage paint over light blue belly and yellow painted wing tips and engine cowl was visibly old and battered, with differing colour patches applied over what he assumed were old battle scars. As they rolled along he observed that there were actually very few planes around. Perhaps they were hidden away in case of attack.
Once on the runway the plane slowed for a moment, the engine noise volume and vibration rose up once more and then they lurched forward, began gathering momentum. The increase in engine pitch did not seem to result in a corresponding amount of velocity; it was not really acceleration, more like a gentle push. Marner was wondering how long it would take this shuddering beast to gain enough speed to overcome gravity. If Boris had been there he would have made a joke about having to drive halfway to Bordeaux on the ground before they attained sufficient speed to take off. However, Marner did n
ot think that it was prudent to make jokes to Lemele about the plane’s capabilities.
Unexpectedly the plane lifted off of the ground, amazing really, because they did not seem to be moving very fast and yet they had broken free of the earth. Lemele had been steadily increasing the pressure of her grip on his wrist as they rumbled along. As they lifted and the shuddering of the wheels on the rutted concrete thankfully ceased, the beast made a sudden dip back towards earth and he felt her nails finally bite into the flesh. He used his free hand to prise her fingers open and resettle them further up his arm, where the tunic protected his skin. Now that they were up, maybe a hundred metres and rising, Lemele actually seemed to settle, perhaps accepting that there was no escape and no alternative now but to give herself over to fate or god. She picked her bag up from the floor and threw it onto the empty seat beside her, slumped up against it and closed her eyes.
After a couple more minutes he realised that they were not gaining altitude. Turning to look out of the window behind him, he could see the trees, fields and occasional farm buildings flashing past just a couple of hundred metres below. He also confirmed that the hoop was still there, was not temporary. He looked down the cabin towards the crewman, who was sitting on a platform that gave access up into the roof-mounted machine gun. Marner rose and weaved his way back. He stood swaying gently, hanging onto the frame bar above his head. “Why aren’t we going higher?”
The crewman paused to reach inside his jacket and pull out a silver flask which he offered to Marner, who declined out of consideration for his thumping head. The crewman shrugged and took a long draught from the flask before responding. “Standard procedure. We keep close to the ground to avoid detection by enemy planes. If they are up there at two or three thousand metres, we are actually quite hard for them to spot.” Another pull from the flask. “Did you see the fighter waiting for us on the runway? Our escort. It’s way up there above us,” he pointed up, “watching out for any potential attackers. If he sees any he’ll radio us and then try to distract them away.”
Marner peered up into the plexiglas gun turret above, but could see nothing except for clear sky and a few scattered clouds. “It looked pretty beat up to me.”
The crewman nodded and grimaced. “Old planes and young pilots.” He raised the flask as if in toast to this motto, took another drink. No wonder he seems happy, thought Marner. “Although with the big shortage of planes and fuel, it is unusual that we got an escort. One of you must be valuable.”
“Well it certainly is not us,” Marner assured him “Who are our fellow passengers?”
“I have no idea. Like you, they are just hitching a lift. Mind you, they carry a lot of luggage with them!” and he jabbed his thumb back over his shoulder. Marner looked past him and saw a number of metal cases in the dark tapering recess of the fuselage, such as might be used to transport delicate and valuable technical instruments, lids secured with good quality locks. Marner swivelled his head to look at the others, found that the soldier’s dead, cold grey eyes were already fixed upon him, had probably been watching him and his proximity to their precious cargo since he had left his seat.
“Where are the crew to man the guns?” he enquired, tapping the butt stock of the machine gun on his right.
“We don’t have them yet. We will get our full crew when we get installed at Bordeaux. We’ve been at Toulouse getting this tub fitted out by the technical group there. I’ve been on a training course to operate it.”
“You mean that circular thing fitted below?”
The crewman nodded. “The Dural hoop.” He explained that this hoop was energised by the motor that was mounted on the floor behind Marner. “You should hear the noise in here when that thing is running too!” With the hoop activated by the motor, the plane could fly at low altitude above the surface of the water and the magnetic field created by the hoop would detonate magnetically fused enemy mines. “So we’re going on minesweeping duties in the Gironde. We have a big problem there because the Bordeaux submarine base is a long way from the sea. The u-boats have to navigate the seventy kilometres along the Gironde estuary to the marina. The enemy are constantly dropping mines; we take a lot of losses from them.”
“How long until we land?”
“Another hour. Providing that our watchdog upstairs doesn’t spot any trouble and we don’t have to start ducking and diving.”
There did not seem to be much room for ‘ducking and diving’ when they were already skimming the treetops, but Marner did not see any point in arguing semantics so he just nodded. “How far is it from where we land to the Kriegsmarine base?”
“Our airfield is at Merignac on the western edge of the city, so it is just a short drive. I can try to arrange something for you when we arrive if you like?”
Marner thanked him and turned to go back to his seat. As soon as he started back to his seat the soldier lost interest in him, satisfied that the cases were not being tampered with. When he was seated again, Marner stared hard at the solider for a full minute, almost daring the man to make eye contact. He completely ignored Marner, however; this was a very cool and controlled individual who felt no need to engage in unnecessary macho point scoring with mere mortals like him.
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Sitting sideways in his seat, he was able to appreciate the aerial view of the city of Bordeaux. Due to their low altitude and direct approach across the roof tops of the city centre he had a clear view of the town, with the glistening silver arc of the Gironde River dividing it in two. His attention was drawn by a cluster of grey barrage balloons floating in the air over the north-western edge of the town. As they drew closer he could see that it was in fact the submarine base that they were tethered above. He was amazed to see it positioned within the town suburb, entirely surrounded by urban buildings. The gargantuan rectangular structure of the concrete bunker containing the dozen submarine pens was instantly recognisable, the thick grey lattice-work of the roof showing several blackened scars of bomb blasts. As they came closer he noted that the passage from the river estuary to the pens required the submarines to traverse not one but two rectangular dock basins, with access from the river via lock gates that were heavily defended.
As the city slid past below he turned in his seat to continue looking back at the base and was startled by a tap on the shoulder. Another crewman had emerged from the flight deck and was shouting to him, “Bumpy landing, hold on tight!” and then he went back into the cockpit and slid the partition shut. Lemele was now sitting straight up in her seat and had heard this warning clearly; fortunately her hands were locked on the seat arms this time, not on him.
In fact the initial touchdown was very smooth. The plane made almost no change of speed or direction for the approach; the only sign that they were about to land was the throttling back of the engines and the subsequent gentle deceleration and then moments later they bumped, rose, fell again and rolled. Marner just had enough time to turn to Lemele and say “Bumpy Landing?” when without warning they were being bounced and battered around as the plane jolted over uneven terrain. A deafening crash from the rear announced that one of the ammunition boxes had fallen to the floor, causing Lemele to scream. Marner was now sure that he must be deaf in one ear.
Finally the plane shuddered to a halt and the engines were shut down immediately. Lemele slumped over again, clutching her bag as someone adrift in the sea might cling to a buoyant object. Marner had not been able to look out of the window during the landing due to the need to cling onto the seat frame. Now he swivelled to look and saw that the grass on the side of the runway was a mess of bomb craters and scattered debris. Further off he could see the smouldering wreckage of aircraft and buildings.
Immediately that they were stationary the soldiers had risen and moved off with their passenger between them. Whereas, Lemele did not seem to be in any hurry to move or flee from this nightmare. He found that it was necessary to grip her shoulder and pull on it to convince her to leave her seat. As they worked thei
r way back down the cabin to the open door they found that the soldier who had been sleeping had stayed inside and was now sitting on the cases, discouraging any interest in them. He was almost a facsimile of the other, the same detached cold look, nothing warm or human behind those eyes that one might wish to make contact with.
Once on the ground and able to look back along the runway that they had clattered over, the reason for the chaotic landing was obvious; numerous raw patches where the holes in the runway had been hurriedly filled with earth, though not smoothly enough. “We get hit hard and often here,” grinned the crewman as he led them towards the buildings where he hoped to find them a ride. “Every couple of days they fly over the airfield to check that we’ve repaired it after the last time, and then they come and pound us again. We rotate the planes around the camouflage nets so they never know which are empty and which are hiding the few planes that we have got, though they do catch some out in the open.” He waved in the direction of the charred wreckage. “And they always target the runway. We hide the earth moving machines most carefully of all, because that is the most essential equipment to repair it and get back into operation.”
As they stepped around a huge smoking hole in the earth, they passed a black Daimler into which their civilian co-passenger was already settled, the other soldier standing guard. Marner wondered again who they were and where they were going.
Chapter Twenty
Their journey from Merignac to Bacalan Quai took just fifteen minutes in the dirty cab of a military truck, part of a convoy that was making its way from the airfield to the docks. The trucks were waved automatically through the main gate. Nevertheless, Marner instructed their driver to stop and let them out. There was no point in them wandering around the docks; he had seen from the air how large this installation was and they would need help if they were going to be able to track down Graf.
