by Andrew Wood
Lemele was shocked at how quickly the gun clicked onto empty; she had been firing almost blindly and in panic and the thirty round magazine seemed to be used up in moments. It would be necessary to fire in shorter, more controlled volleys when it really counted. She crouched down, banged in another magazine and was rising back up to have another ago when a blast jolted her off her feet.
A grenade had exploded on the other side of the cover behind which she was hiding and a piece of shrapnel tugged at her hair as it whizzed past. Hands pulled her up from the ground and dragged her on. She stumbled but the hands held her firm and kept her moving. She looked to see who it was; Slowikowski smiled at her. “Too damned hot to stay here; too many of them.”
They ran flat out, weaving through the trees and around the rocks. For the moment, no bullets fell close although they could hear continued firing and the bangs of grenades. The enemy seemed to have stalled, unsure of what they were facing.
At the end of the copse they were confronted by a standard hedgerow of north-western France: a one metre high earth bank topped by a tangle of bushes and brambles. Urged on by Slowikowski, Lemele dived into the gap that had been just used by Delaune. Thorns snagged at her clothes and scratched her hands as she passed through. She seemed to be stuck for just a moment, looking at the gorse-covered ditch directly below, the road beside it and the orchard beyond. Something, presumably one of the others trying to follow her through, bumped her and she was free and tumbling uncontrolled down the far side. Marner came next, landing on top of her in a shower of leaves and yellow petals from the tiny gorse flowers.
Shooting resumed from just above her head and she looked up; Dubus and Slowikowski had come over the top but had taken care not to fall. Instead, they had turned and dug their feet into the soft earth bank and were returning fire back at the copse. Delaune was beside Lemele and was frantically trying to poke a way out of the blanket of thick gorse that covered the bank and under which they were now trapped. He stopped when they heard the roar of an engine and screech of brakes. More Germans were arriving on the road in front of the ditch. Delaune yelled up to his men above and they came crashing down, thumping into the damp earth to join the others.
They were perfectly hidden behind the gorse. On their side they were faced only with the network of grey-brown roots and branches, whereas from the exterior it would appear to be an impenetrable mass of thorns and leaves. Boots were clattering up and down the road just metres in front of them, the voices of the owners becoming frustrated that they could not find their quarry. Any comfort that might have been taken from this was eroded when the shooting behind them ceased and the soldiers who had pursued them across the copse arrived at the hedge above their heads. They called to their comrades on the road that the fugitives must be somewhere close, probably in the bushes below.
The Germans on the road were still unable to see Lemele and the group through the gorse, despite the fact that they were only metres away, despite the ragged breathing of the group. Frustrated, one of the German soldiers began to fire shots randomly into the bushes. Lemele shrieked; fortunately the sound was drowned out by the sound of the shots and by the other soldiers who began firing, all wanting to join in this fun sport. Slowikowski put a hand on her arm to steady her nerves, and then silently raised his weapon to point back at the Germans. Delaune had done the same. Only Dubus was not pointing his machine gun outwards; he had it poked into the ribs of Marner to dissuade him from making any noise; from giving away their position to his compatriots. It was also clear as to which German would receive Dubus’ first bullet when the final shoot-out began.
Shaking, Lemele quietly manoeuvred her Sten around and into firing position. She was shocked that this was the end, could not believe that she was now going to die in a hail of gunfire in a field far from home. It was not how she had expected to end her days. In spite of her trembling body, her mind was calm, ready. She hoped that it would be instantaneous, painless.
Ready for death, finger already applying pressure to the trigger, Lemele screamed again when two planes roared low overhead, their cannons thundering at the mass of German troops milling on the road in front and in the field behind. Debris from above rained down onto them, everything shook and, although she was already deafened, her ears popped at a huge explosion; one of the trucks used by the troops had been hit. Now the Wehrmacht began scattering, some running for the remaining vehicles, some of them looking for cover to hide. Lemele feared that they might jump into the ditch, but the gorse looked far less inviting from the other side. Within thirty seconds the commanding officer had rounded up the soldiers and had them loaded aboard the trucks and moving away, fearful that the planes would return.
After a pause of minutes, sitting totally silent but for the blood pounding in her ears, Lemele heard Delaune declare that all was clear. Dubus wiggled his way a few metres to one side and found a gap that it was possible to emerge from. Once he had gained the road, he turned to help heave the rest of them up through the scratchy bushes. It took three of them to heave the overburdened Slowikowski up and out of the vegetation. Marner was last and only Lemele offered to help; he gave her a curt nod of thanks but that was all.
On the road, Lemele stood on trembling legs, looking up and around at the sky and clouds as if seeing them for the first time, hearing birdsong once again now that peace had descended. Even Slowikowski seemed subdued after such a close call; having faced death. Delaune, ever professional, announced that they should quickly vacate the area before the Germans returned to see what might be salvaged from their burning truck.
Chapter Forty Eight
Delaune pushed them on until well after dark, needing to cover as much ground as possible. He was aware that his group was tired; in deference to this and to the increased risk of running into a static enemy observation post, he slowed the pace for the final few hours.
They set up for the night in the corner of a field that was bordered by a crumbling stone wall. This gave them solid protective cover on two sides, as well as allowing then to light a small, carefully covered fire in the corner to warm their C-rations. Delaune knew full well the psychological as well the physical benefit of warm food.
It was agreed that Slowikowski would take the first two hour watch. Although he was visibly the most tired, this would then permit him an uninterrupted four hours sleep until dawn. Lemele offered to take a turn, to substitute for one of them. This was politely but firmly refused. She remembered what Dubus had said earlier about amateurs and wondered if their refusal was due to gentlemanly chivalry or distrust of her abilities, their confidence extending only amongst themselves.
----
Lemele woke at dawn, stiff, cold and damp from the dew. These soldiers travelled light with just the minimum of food and the maximum of ammunition in their packs. There were no luxuries such as groundsheets or blankets.
Whilst Slowikowski warmed food over the fire, Lemele removed her boots and socks to tend to her feet. She had been aware during the previous day that her feet were hurting. The stiff boots borrowed from Loic had been fine for riding. However, walking kilometres in them had been difficult and she was dismayed to see the number of blisters that had developed, a few of which had burst and were bleeding.
Slowikowski turned, alerted by her moans of pain and saw the problem. He pulled a field dressing kit from a pocket of his webbing and made her put her feet, one at a time, in his lap so that he could minister to them. Finally content, he wrapped a single layer of gauze around each and then fitted his spare socks over the top. “A soldier’s best friend is a pair of clean, dry socks,” he told her with a wink.
Dubus let out a curse and Lemele turned in panic, thinking that they were discovered; about to be attacked again. The source of Dubus’ distress turned out to be the burning food, forgotten by the distracted Slowikowski. Dubus took his rations from the fire and stamped off a few metres, muttering profanities that were intended for Slowikowski, who seemed unconcerned and even amused.
>
Lemele’s feet were swollen and now, further bulked out by the thick socks, it was difficult to squeeze them back into her boots. She was concerned that it was going to be a problem to keep up the same pace for another long day on foot. The rendezvous date in the message sent by Graf was for the coming night and Delaune had estimated that they still had in excess of twenty five kilometres to cover.
----
Mid-afternoon found them taking a pause at the centre of a small wood. The entire day had been frustrating. They had been required to make numerous detours to avoid civilians and German military.
Whilst the others rested, Delaune and Dubus moved a few metres away to converse in low and urgent tones, casting occasional glances at Lemele and Marner. When they had finally concluded their discussion they waved for Lemele and Slowikowski to come and join them. Delaune got straight to the point, "We still have at least ten kilometres to cover and we are moving too slowly. I'll be blunt: we could go a lot faster without you and Fritz over there. We must get to the destination before nightfall. I do not want us to be stumbling around, trying to orientate ourselves and having to figure things out in the dark. Therefore, we are going to keep moving, but at some point soon we are going to stash the pair of you somewhere safe, in an abandoned farm or building if we can find one. You will only be there for twenty four hours at most and we’ll leave you food and drink.”
Lemele’s instinct was to protest, having come this far and gotten this close to Graf. She kept silent because she could understand the logic in Delaune’s words. The idea of having to walk another ten kilometres was intolerable; her feet were in constant agony, the worst being the occasions when she was required to run across open ground. Even just sprinting a short distance to cross a road from one hedge to another was a feat of endurance. Reluctantly she nodded her agreement.
“Good,” said Delaune. “Now for the difficult question. Can we leave Fritz under your guard? He is still my prisoner and my responsibility and I need to know: can I trust you to guard him?”
Lemele started to speak to but Delaune held up a hand, he was not quite finished. “Which specifically means: will you shoot him if he tries to escape? I know that you can shoot a gun; the question is would you? Because he is still dangerous to us, you included. He knows what we are doing here, our destination and objective. And he saw the camp. Even though it is now dispersed, he saw the scale of what our organisation have going on in this region. So I need to be absolutely certain. If there is any doubt in your mind, then I am going to have to leave either Dubus or Slowikowski behind with you, which obviously slashes my fighting force by a major percentage.”
Lemele did not know how to respond. She cast a glance across to where Marner sat slumped, lost in his thoughts. She knew that he was above all an enemy of herself and the forces trying to liberate her country. But if he was running away, escaping, would she be able to shoot him?
Delaune saw the confusion and indecision flitting across her features and knew that he had his answer. “Okay. We will have to decide who is going to stay with you. This next farm has no signs of activity so we are going to take a look at it, see if it really is deserted. If it is, we can....”
He was cut short by the sound of several gunshots from the north. “Oh shit, what now!” cursed Dubus. Delaune motioned the group to follow him and they crept forward until they reached the edge of the wood that overlooked the farm. Two hundred metres in front of them was a farmhouse in the centre of a cluster of outbuildings, all of which were encircled by a rough wall. There were open fields all around it; the shots could only have come from there. They watched for a full minute but could see no sign of activity or movement. Dubus had just suggested that he go and scout when suddenly a group of civilian men carrying rifles and Stens ran out of the farm entrance, heading across the field and directly towards them.
“Maquis?” asked Dubus.
Delaune shrugged. “Since they are running away, it probably is, but then again it could be Milice. Whichever, they are armed and I don't want a confrontation with them so let's move along a bit.” He led the group along the edge of the tree line, leaving the fleeing civilians the bulk of the wood. As he had predicted, they plunged straight into the centre and kept crashing directly on through. Dubus crept away to follow them whilst Delaune continued to observe the farm. When Dubus returned after a couple of minutes he confirmed that they had kept on running, through the wood and out the other side. Just as he was delivering this news, the noise of motor engines drew their attention back to the farm. “Oh this just gets better and better,” groused Dubus.
Two open-topped Wehrmacht Kubelwagens were speeding along the single track that led to the farm. They braked heavily at the open gateway and the soldiers jumped out and flattened themselves against the wall, peering carefully around the corners into the farmyard. One of the cars sported an MG42 heavy machine gun on a pivot mounted between the two front seats. A soldier remained standing in the back of the vehicle with the MG trained on the entrance. The other soldiers then sprinted through the gateway and into the complex of buildings and were lost to view. After a long minute one of them returned to the vehicles and called to the machine gunner. Things were evidently under control because the latter clambered down and the two of them leaned against the car smoking.
“So what the hell is going on?” asked Slowikowski.
“Who knows? Maybe the Maquis who just charged through here were settling an old score and the gunshots attracted this German patrol. We do now know for sure that the farm is not deserted. They could hang around for hours.” Delaune cursed and spat, looking back and forth at the flat and open terrain on either side. “This means that we are going to have to go back through this wood and make yet another detour to go around.”
Dubus rose to move off but Slowikowski tugged on his trouser leg and pulled him back down. He spoke to Delaune, “If we were to borrow those Kubelwagens, it would solve our problems. We could cover a lot of ground in those, and it would mean that we wouldn’t have to split up.”
Dubus was not convinced. “A nice idea, but we have to take out the Fritz first. I counted six of them and we have to cover open ground just to get close. They have numerical advantage, solid cover and that damned MG. It seems like a big risk just to save your poor aching feet.”
Delaune was silent, weighing the options. They left him in peace to think, each having given their opinions. Now it was his decision. “Okay, let’s do it. If we go back along the front of this wood to the other end, the wall and buildings will block us from view of those two near the vehicles. We can move double-time across the field and up to the wall. We then creep around the perimeter, maybe even split and go both ways around it and get the entrance zeroed in from both directions. If we find a break in the wall or another entrance, that would be even better. It would give us the option to have one of us rush straight in making bangs and noise. They’ll probably run back out to their vehicles and the cover of that MG. With the two of us waiting outside to catch them in crossfire as they come running out.”
Dubus made a sour face. He preferred better odds than two to one. Slowikowski grinned and slapped the tube of the PIAT. “If I can shoot this at them inside the farmyard, that’ll make a big bang for sure.”
“Too many ‘ifs’ in it,” criticised Dubus, but he knew from previous experience that Delaune was rarely dissuaded once he had decided on a course of action, and the kid’s enthusiasm had sealed it.
----
As Delaune had predicted, their approach to the farm from the far end of the woods was screened from view to those standing by the vehicles. They would be able to move unseen across the open ground, provided that the Wehrmacht stayed where they were and did not venture around the outer perimeter of the farm.
Dubus found a tree with a branch at shoulder height. He leveled his sniper rifle to sight on the farm, ready to provide accurate suppressing fire if anyone was caught out in the open. Delaune went first; the field of hay stubble gave him
no cover to dive into if trouble erupted but it made for easy running. As soon as he reached the wall it was the turn of Lemele, Marner and Slowikowski. Dubus gave them the all clear to go. Nearing the end of the two hundred metre dash, trying to keep up her speed despite the searing pain from her chafed feet, Lemele was startled to see Dubus come sprinting past. He was remarkably fast on his feet for one so short.
Delaune had already crept to the end of the wall and peered around the corner. He beckoned the group to approach. “One of them has gone back inside the yard,” he whispered. “The other has his back to us. Andrei: you see if you can sneak up and take him down quietly.”
“Do you want me to go around?” asked Dubus, referring to their earlier discussion.
Delaune shook his head. “Too long. Too much risk and too many ‘ifs’,” he smiled, quoting Dubus. “Let’s keep it quick and simple.”
Slowikowski shrugged off his pack and the PIAT, placed them down quietly on the ground, and then set off through the rough grass and weeds, a dagger with a serrated top edge in his left hand and his pistol in the right. Lemele was kneeling, peering around the corner and holding her breath. It seemed to take Slowikowski forever to cover the fifty metres to the cars and the unsuspecting soldier who was leaning against it with his back to them. Dubus was leaning around the wall above her with his rifle trained on the shoulders of the soldier, ready to shoot if he turned around. Slowikowski stepped carefully left and right to keep to the softer, shorter grass, causing Dubus to curse repeatedly as his shot was blocked.
Ten metres from the soldier, Slowikowski slid the pistol carefully back into its holster. He was close enough now to attack with the knife, even if his prey turned and spotted him. At the last moment the soldier heard a footfall scuff the grass behind him and started to turn, but he was too late. Slowikowski clamped his hand over the soldier’s mouth a fraction of a second before he plunged the knife through his victim’s throat. He then tore the blade forward to rip through the front of the neck and windpipe. The splash of blood and gurgling sounded loud to him but he ignored it, dragging the twitching body back and around the car to lay it gently on the grass. He stepped up into the back of the car, still being careful not to make any noise and took up position on the MG. He kept it trained on the gateway whilst the others now hurried up to the cars, Lemele lugging the PIAT launcher with difficulty under one arm. It was incredibly heavy; how on earth had he managed to carry it such a distance? Delaune had the pack containing the PIAT rockets and he placed it carefully onto the back seat beside Slowikowski. Lemele put the launcher in with it, also careful to remain quiet.
