Operation Kingfisher

by Hilary Green

  ‘Michou’s pups are safe, but in a different kennel.’

  She almost failed to take it in the first time but, as always, the message was repeated:

  ‘Michou’s pups are safe, but in a different kennel.’

  Almost weeping with surprise and relief, Isabelle switched the set off and returned it to its hiding place. Safe! That was the important point. Only Luke or Christine could have known to send that message and it had said ‘pups’ in the plural. But ‘in a different kennel’. What could that mean? If they were not back in England, how could they have got that message to the BBC? So why say a different kennel? Not with their grandparents, perhaps. If so, why not? Perhaps the grandparents had been bombed out, or had been evacuated? That seemed a likely explanation. Anyway, they were safe. That was all that mattered. She closed the cellar door behind her and went back to the house.

  Her father had wheeled his chair close to the window and as she entered he greeted her with a growl in which triumph and fury were equally mixed.

  ‘So, now I understand. Who is he? Who is this man you go to meet every night?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Isabelle said, flustered. ‘What man?’

  ‘I saw him. Don’t try to lie to me. Hanging about in the shadows, like a criminal. Who is it? Why is he ashamed to be seen? You’re not having an affair with a Boche, are you?’

  ‘Of course not! What do you take me for?’

  ‘You’re far too pally with them. I thought it might be your officer friend, but I can hear him coughing in his room. It’s not that other one, is it? That Schulz?’

  ‘Of course it isn’t!’ She hesitated, then moved to crouch by his chair. ‘Papa, I can’t believe you think so badly of me, but I see I have got to tell you the truth. The man you saw is Louis Beaupaire, the cobbler’s son. He’s with the Maquis. He came … he came to ask if I could spare some wine for him and his comrades. Of course, I said yes. They will send someone to collect it tomorrow.’

  Her father leaned back in his chair and blew a long breath through his nose.

  ‘Well, why didn’t you say so to start with? The Maquis, eh? Brave fellows. Pity you wouldn’t let Luke join them, instead of sending him off to Montbéliard. Come the end of the war, young Beaupaire will be able to hold up his head with pride. I doubt if Luke will be able to do the same.’

  Isabelle stood up. She had not wanted to trouble her father with her own anxieties about the children, so she had let him think that they were safely in Montbéliard with their godfather.

  ‘I think you’ll find Luke will have done his bit by the end of the war, Father. Just wait and see.’

  Chapter 14

  Rollo left the camp early the following morning, travelling in the same van in which he had arrived. Luke and Christine saw him off and he shook hands with both of them.

  ‘I’m sorry we can’t help you get any further. Father was asking around for a cargo going in the right direction when the Boche came and took over the barge.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Luke said. ‘You were very good to come here and warn us. I’m sorry you got such a rough welcome.’

  ‘We might have walked straight into a trap if you hadn’t come,’ Christine agreed. ‘And it was a risk for you, too. You were very brave.’

  Rollo shrugged and grinned, but the colour rising in his cheeks gave away his pleasure in the compliment.

  ‘It was nothing. What are friends for, after all? But I’m afraid we shall not meet again.’

  ‘It seems that way,’ Luke agreed. ‘Good luck with the Germans. I hope they won’t keep your boat too long.’

  ‘Who knows?’ Rollo responded and Christine saw that underneath his casual manner he was afraid.

  ‘Come on, let’s go!’ the driver of the van called.

  ‘Adieu! Bonne chance!’ Rollo turned away and climbed into the back of the vehicle.

  ‘And you! Good luck! Take care!’ they called in return.

  As the van bumped away, Luke said, ‘You know, I really didn’t like him when we first met. He struck me as being much too cocksure. But he’s turned out OK in the end.’

  ‘He tried to kiss me once,’ Christine said.

  ‘He what? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I kicked him in the shin and told him if he tried it again, I’d kick him where it really hurt. I feel bad about it now.’

  Luke grinned at her. ‘I shouldn’t. He deserved it.’ He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her back towards the camp. ‘Anyway, it’s just you and me now, Sis.’

  ‘You and me and about twenty Maquis,’ she responded. ‘You’ve got your wish, haven’t you?’

  ‘I had the impression you weren’t so averse to staying on,’ he retorted. ‘I can’t think what the attraction is for you. Oh, talk of the devil, isn’t that Cyrano coming back from his morning sked?’

  She kicked him quite hard in the shin in his turn.

  ‘Shut up, idiot! I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  An hour later, Gregoire reappeared, with his usual armed escort. After a brief conference with Xavier and Cyrano, he beckoned them over.

  ‘I gather you two are staying with us for a while longer.’

  ‘It seemed the best thing to do,’ Luke said. ‘Provided it’s all right with you.’

  ‘It’s not up to me. This is Xavier’s show. But I understand he’s agreeable and you’ve volunteered for active service, Luke.’

  ‘Yes. I want to do my bit.’

  ‘You realize how dangerous it could be? Things won’t always be as quiet as this.’

  ‘I know that. I’m ready to fight. And Xavier has promised to teach me how to use a gun.’

  Gergoire and Cyrano exchanged glances.

  Then Gregoire said, ‘Very well. I have no authority to refuse you. But if you join us, you will be under orders and you must promise to obey them without question. Is that understood?’

  ‘Your orders?’

  ‘Mine, Cyrano’s or Xavier’s. OK?’

  ‘Yes, of course. You have my word.’

  ‘What about me?’ Christine said.

  ‘You?’ Gregoire looked puzzled.

  ‘I want to do my bit too.’

  He smiled. ‘Well, I gather you are to be in charge of motor maintenance.’

  ‘That won’t take much of my time.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure Xavier will be able to find other ways you can be useful. I daresay Jacques can do with some help with the cooking.…’

  ‘But…’ Christine began furiously, but Gregoire had already turned away.

  He raised his voice. ‘We have some important information to announce. Xavier, call your men together, please. Luke, you’d better join us.’

  The men assembled and there was a general air of excited anticipation. Since yesterday it seemed the whole camp had guessed that something was about to happen. Luke found a place on a log among the rest and Christine pushed her way in to sit beside him.

  Xavier said, ‘My friends, this is a great day. At last, our appeals have been heard. Gregoire will explain.’

  ‘I know,’ the tall Englishman began, ‘that ever since I came here, you have been asking for one thing above all others, and that is better weapons to fight with. I’m now able to tell you that your request has been granted. Tonight there will be a parachute drop of arms and ammunition.’ He paused until the shouts of triumph subsided. ‘A suitable dropping zone has been located, but it is some distance from here. All of you will be required to make it ready and then to carry back the supplies when they have been dropped. Each man should carry enough food and water for 24 hours. It will be dawn at least before we get back to camp. Prepare yourselves. We leave in one hour.’

  The men dispersed amid excited chatter, some heading for the spring to fill their water bottles, others lining up outside the lorry/store where Jacques dispensed the rations. He must have been forewarned, because h
e had baked extra bread and each man was handed a baguette, a sausage and a piece of cheese. Christine queued up with Luke, but when their turn came, Jacques handed Luke his ration and turned to the next man in the line.

  ‘Hey, what about me?’ she demanded.

  The cook looked surprised. ‘You, Mademoiselle? There is no need. I am staying in camp and we can share something tastier for lunch.’

  ‘But I’m not staying,’ she protested. ‘I’m going with the rest.’

  He raised his shoulders.

  ‘That is not what I understood. You must speak to Xavier.’

  ‘Right!’ She swung on her heel and headed towards the tent where Xavier was poring over a map with Gregoire and Cyrano.

  Luke hurried after her.

  ‘Chris, hold on a minute! Don’t.…’

  She turned to face him.

  ‘Don’t what?’

  ‘Well, you know … Gregoire said we have to take orders if we want to stay.’

  ‘He said that to you, not to me.’

  ‘But…’ his words fell on deaf ears, as his sister marched on towards the tent.

  ‘Gregoire?’

  He looked up, frowning. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Please tell Jacques to give me my rations. I’m coming with you.’

  Gregoire straightened up. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t think that would be suitable.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘For one thing, it is going to be a long hike. The DZ is a good ten kilometres from here and it’s steep going most of the way. Then there will be work to do and finally we have to walk the ten kilometres back.’

  ‘Twenty kilometres? That’s nothing! I can do that easily. Before the war, Father used to take us both hiking in the mountains and we often walked further than that. I can walk just as far as Luke. Tell them, Luke!’

  ‘It’s true,’ her brother admitted. ‘She can do it OK.’

  ‘That’s all very well, but this is not a joyride. Everyone will have to pull their weight.’

  ‘I have a thought,’ Cyrano said. ‘When I was in real pain with my ankle, Chris bandaged me up very efficiently. Couldn’t you do with someone who can offer first aid if it’s needed?’

  Gregoire looked at her.

  ‘Can you do that? Have you had any training in that area?’

  ‘A bit,’ she said, recalling her few months as a Girl Guide. ‘I can certainly bandage people up, or make a sling and that sort of thing.’

  He scrutinised her for a moment longer. ‘OK. You can come. But be aware that if you can’t keep up, or you get tired, no one is going to drop out to help you. No one!’ he fixed his gaze on Luke. ‘Understood?’

  ‘I won’t need any help,’ she said firmly.

  ‘All right. Tell Jacques to give you your rations and then get together whatever you can find in the way of first aid equipment. You’ve got less than an hour to do it.’

  ‘Thank you! I promise you won’t regret it.’ She turned to Cyrano with glowing eyes. ‘Thank you, Cyrano! You’re a … you’re a pal!’

  He looked at once amused and slightly embarrassed.

  ‘That’s all right. I owe you a favour.’

  As she turned away she was aware of her brother looking at her.

  ‘What?’

  He grimaced. ‘You’ve got your own way this time. But.…’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘You can’t keep pretending you’re one of the lads. When it comes to the real stuff – the fighting etc. – you can’t expect to get involved with that.’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  ‘Because it’s not right. Chris, you’re a girl! Isn’t it time you grew up and accepted that?’

  She turned away, feeling herself flush.

  ‘Oh, shut up, Luke! Leave me alone.’ She walked away and he did not follow her.

  Christine spent the next hour scouring the camp for anything that could be pressed into use for first aid. She persuaded Jacques to hand over an apron which had got scorched in the fire and tore it into strips for bandages. It should be boiled to sterilize it, she knew, but there was no time for that. One of the men contributed a scarf, which could be converted into a sling. There was no such thing as antiseptic, but she recalled that alcohol had antiseptic properties and asked Jacques for a small bottle of marc, which he handed over somewhat reluctantly. There remained the problem of splints, in case someone broke a leg. She searched everywhere, but there did not seem to be a straight piece of wood of the right dimensions anywhere. She had almost given up and decided that in an emergency she would have to improvise with whatever fallen branches she could find, when she noticed the table on which Cyrano was accustomed to work. The tent was empty. Gregoire was talking to some of the men on the far side of the camp and Cyrano had disappeared. The table was made up of a series of laths laid across two trestles. One less, she reasoned, would make very little difference. She sidled over and lifted one lath from the rear edge and walked away with it as nonchalantly as she could manage.

  Most of the men were used to working in the forest and it was easy to get one of them to saw it in half, giving her two flat pieces about half a metre long. She packed everything into her rucksack, added her rations and her water bottle, and strapped the two laths on top. Then, she joined the men who were assembling ready to leave.

  ‘What on earth have you got there,’ her brother demanded.

  ‘Splints,’ she responded succinctly, and to her relief he left it at that.

  They set off, walking in single file along the forest track, with Gregoire at the head and Xavier bringing up the rear. Jacques, who maintained that he was too fat for strenuous exercise, remained behind to guard the camp with a boy who had a twisted leg as a result of a childhood accident and Cyrano, who was still limping badly. It occurred to Christine, too late, that she could have stayed behind to keep him company. She banished the thought and concentrated on keeping up with the rest.

  It was, as Gregoire had said, a steep climb, and towards the end there was no proper path. They scrambled up, pushing aside low branches and tripping over roots, where the ground was so treacherous that Christine thought her services might well be needed to deal with a sprained ankle, if nothing worse.

  It was mid-afternoon when they finally emerged onto a rocky plateau, which thrust itself up clear of the surrounding forest. After a brief rest and a chance to eat some of the supplies they had carried with them, Gregoire set the men to gathering firewood.

  ‘We need five bonfires, good big ones, to guide the plane in. I’ll mark out the places for them to go. Make sure the wood is good and dry. We also need a pit to bury the parachutes and containers. There mustn’t be any trace left that might be spotted by enemy reconnaissance aircraft. Xavier, can you divide the men into six teams, five to collect wood and one to dig?’

  As they dispersed he called Christine to him.

  ‘We need torches to set fire to the wood when I give the signal. We don’t want to be messing about with matches. Can you find small, dry twigs and bind them to five long branches that will reach right into the heart of the fire? Then fill in the gaps with anything easily combustible you can get hold of – dry leaves, moss. Do you get the idea?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll do my best.’

  By the time the fires had been built, she had her five torches ready. She had sacrificed two of her improvised bandages to bind the twigs and, as a final touch, she had soaked the material with marc.

  ‘They should catch light pretty easily,’ she said, handing them over.

  ‘Very neat,’ Gregoire approved. ‘Well done.’

  When all the men had reassembled, he addressed them.

  ‘The plane is due at 01.00 hours but that is only approximate. It could easily be twenty minutes either side of that time, depending on weather conditions and other factors. When we hear the plane, I shall give a signal in Morse code with this flashlight and, all being well, the plane will respond in the same manner. At that point, I will give the signal for the fires to be lit �
�� but not before. I don’t want anyone going off at half cock and setting light to one before that. Understood?’ He paused for the murmured response. ‘When the pilot sees the fires, he will make a run in over the site. He may decide to drop the cargo straight away or he may want to come round for a second pass, so don’t worry if nothing happens the first time. When the ’chutes do come down, it is up to all of you to track where they fall. Grab the ’chute and roll it up, then bring it and the container here. I want you to designate one man in each team to put out the fire as soon as the drop is over. And before we leave not only must we bury the evidence, we must erase all signs of the fires. If the Boche spot them, we could get some very unwelcome visitors. Now, we have several hours to wait so I suggest you all get some rest. There won’t be much chance later.’

  The men settled down, each team by their unlit fire. Luke found his sister and sat down beside her.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yes. Why shouldn’t I be?’

  ‘I was just asking. Look, I’m sorry if I was rotten to you earlier. I think you’re terrific, really. I don’t know how I’d cope if you were a girly sort of girl, frightened of spiders and crying because you’d broken a fingernail.’

  ‘Oh, come off it! Not all girls are that feeble,’ she said, but she smiled at him and nudged his arm in a gesture of affection.

  The time passed slowly. Darkness fell, but the sky was clear and the moon was just past full.

  Perfect conditions, according to Gregoire.

  Christine lay down, pillowing her head on her arm, and Luke stretched out beside her. A low murmur came from the groups around the unlit fires, but apart from that, the only sound was the wind in the trees and a distant owl hooting. She was very tired but she knew there was no chance of sleep; she was too keyed-up for that. However, she must have dozed, for she was suddenly aware that Gregoire was on his feet, his flashlight ready in his hand.

  ‘Is it time?’ she asked.

  ‘Ssh! Listen!’

  She strained her ears and became aware of a low, distant drone. Others had heard it too, and all round the area, men scrambled to their feet exchanging brief, tense snatches of conversation. The sound came closer.