Incursion (A James Shaw Mission Book 1)

by Richard Turner

  “Jesus Christ, what the hell happened here?” said Bruce, under his breath.

  “I wish I knew,” said Shaw.

  “It’s worse than a slaughterhouse in here. I have no love for the Nazis, but to die like this is inhuman,” said Anna as she lowered her flashlight. She had seen enough.

  “Where is Gert?” said Shaw, looking around the room.

  “He is in the barracks next door,” replied Carl.

  “Damn it,” snapped Shaw. “I told you two to stay together.”

  “Sorry sir, I just thought you needed to see this,” said Carl, realizing that he had screwed up.

  Shaw nodded his head and said, “Ok, I think we’ve seen enough. Let’s find Gert and get the hell out of here.”

  With Carl in the lead, they walked over to the barracks. Opening the door, they all stepped inside, grateful to be out of the blowing wind. At the far end of the long dormitory style, room stood Gert silently looking down at something on the floor. Walking over, they all stopped when they saw what he was looking at. Four pairs of black boots stuck out from under bloodstained gray woolen blankets.

  Shaw shook his head. The place was nothing more than a tomb. There was no one left alive who could tell them what had happened. He wanted nothing more than to leave and carry on with their mission. He was about to say they should go, when Anna got down on one knee. A surprised gasp escaped her lips as she lifted the blanket up off the corpse. Unlike all the other corpses they had discovered so far, the man’s neck and been crushed and a long incision had been cut into his chest.

  “They are all the same,” said Gert, his voice barely concealing his fear.

  Anna handed her flashlight to Carl and then told him to shine it over the body. Edging closer on her knees, Anna removed her gloves, opened up the man’s blood covered tunic, and exposed the man’s chest. It looked as white and cold as the snow outside.

  “Move around so I can see what I am doing,” Anna said to Carl as she placed both her hands on the long gash on the dead man’s chest.

  Shaw said, “Anna, what on earth are you doing?”

  “Aside from being in the resistance, I am also one of the village’s three trained nurses,” replied Anna.

  The sound of frozen flesh being pulled apart even surprised Shaw; he hadn’t expected it to be so loud or disturbing.

  “Flashlight,” said Anna, without looking up from the hole that she had made in the dead man’s chest.

  Bruce, looking quite pale, bent down and hurriedly handed Anna his flashlight.

  Anna shone the flashlight around inside the cavity for a few seconds before plunging her right hand deep inside. Pushing and pulling as best, she could at the man’s frozen internal organs, Anna gritted her teeth as she worked. After about thirty seconds, she sat back on the floor. Sweat trickled down her forehead.

  “What were you looking for?” Shaw asked Anna.

  Anna wiped the sweat from her face with her scarf and then said, “At first nothing. I was curious as to why these four men were cut open, while the others were murdered. After looking around inside, I can tell you that this man’s heart, liver, and kidneys have been removed.”

  “Oh God no, please say it isn’t so,” said Bruce. “Why would the Germans do that?”

  “I’m not sure that they did,” said Anna. “Without the advantage of performing a proper autopsy, I am going to go out on a limb and say that the organs looked to have been cut out with a very sharp knife by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. Who, I have no idea.”

  “I’ve seen enough,” said Shaw. “We’ve got a mission to accomplish, so let’s get going.”

  No one objected. A minute later, the truck pulled out of the camp. The falling snow soon covered their tracks. In the dark, the camp sat silent, its frozen occupants waiting for their next group to arrive.

  They wouldn’t have to wait for long.

  8

  Crash site

  January 19th, 1942

  The climb up from the valley floor in the cold, gray light of dawn was tricky and exhausting. The slope from below looked deceptively easy; instead, it was a slick, ice-covered trail that meandered from side to side as they climbed. Bruce had the worst of it, falling down several times on his face. Carl, the youngest of the resistance fighters, hearing Bruce swear up a storm, moved over and helped Bruce climb the remainder of the way up the steep hill.

  Stopping at the top to allow Bruce to catch his breath, Shaw looked out over the valley floor and was struck by the quiet beauty. For as far as he could see, the world was blanketed in snow. It was almost picturesque. For a moment, it reminded him of his home in Northern Pennsylvania. He recalled a time when he and his brother had decided to climb the hill behind his parents’ home in the dead of winter. It seemed a good idea at the time. Both brothers expected that it would only take them a couple of hours to climb up and down the tree-coved hill. When the sun went down, and they weren’t home, a search was organized. They were found several hours later, huddled together under a fir tree trying to keep warm. After they got home, their father gave them both a swift hit on the backside and a talking to that Shaw never forgot. That it was his brother’s idea never escaped his lips. He would never have told on him; as a kid he looked up to and loved his brother too much.

  A steady stream of new and creative invectives coming from Bruce brought Shaw back to the present.

  “No one back in England told me that we had to go mountaineering,” complained Bruce loudly.

  “This was a mere hill,” said Anna. “We have some pretty talk peaks nearby. I can take up one if you like.”

  “No thank you miss, this was bad enough,” said Bruce as he stretched out his weary legs.

  Shaw said, “Undo your parka. Let all the hot air out. If you don’t, you’ll freeze later. Trust me on this one.”

  Bruce nodded his head and reluctantly opened up his parka. Stream instantly rose into the cool air from his sweat-covered body.

  “How far is it to the downed plane?” Shaw asked Anna.

  “About half a mile,” she replied, looking into the woods.

  “On your feet Duncan,” said Shaw to Bruce as he offered him his hand. “Let’s go and see what all the fuss is about.”

  For about thirty minutes with Carl in the lead, the group made their way through the thick evergreen forest. The snow wasn’t as deep in the woods as it was in the open, making their passage easier than before. As they neared the crash site, Shaw noticed an aroma on the wind. The mouth-watering smell was unmistakable. Someone was cooking bacon. Instantly, his stomach grumbled. Although not a big eater, he found that when he exerted himself, especially in the winter, he needed to eat all the time to keep his strength up.

  A few seconds later, they stepped out into a clearing. Shaw could see about a dozen young men standing around a large bonfire while off to one side another older man with a long gray beard was cooking breakfast for everyone in a couple of large iron skillets over an open flame. There were several improvised shelters built around the fire. It looked to Shaw as if the resistance fighters had been camped here for several days already. Seeing Carl, a tall man dressed in warm hunting clothing waved over to him, left the roaring fire, and approached. Shaw could see that the man was perhaps in his mid-twenties, had a thick bushy red beard and had dark-green eyes. After embracing Carl in a friendly embrace, he let him go and turned to face Anna. Moving close to her, hushed words were exchanged. Shaw couldn’t hear what was being said, but by the growing look of anger on his face, Shaw guessed that Anna had just told him about their unscheduled visit to the German camp.

  The man stepped away from Anna and walked over to Shaw; anger burnt in his eyes.

  “Good day Captain, my name is Hans Wahlberg. I am a Lieutenant in the Royal Norwegian Army,” said the red-bearded man in flawless English. “Unlike all the other members of this resistance cell, I am a soldier who remained behind the lines when the Germans overran my country. My mission is very simple. I am responsi
ble to train and organize resistance groups in this area. Your stop at the German weather station was unnecessary and foolhardy. It could have easily endangered the lives of the people that I sent to fetch you.”

  Shaw felt his back bristle. He wasn’t used to being challenged, especially in front of other people. Taking a long, slow breath, Shaw stepped back slightly, giving himself some space. Locking his eyes on Wahlberg, he said, “Normally, I would agree with everything that you said. However, things right now are far from normal. Has Anna told you about happened to the Germans in the camp?”

  “She said that everyone there is dead,” replied Wahlberg. “Which is something that I find hard to believe.”

  “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would have not believed it either. However, I can assure you that every last German in the weather station was either murdered or took his own life.”

  Bruce added, “It was truly horrible sir. I canna imagine what drove those men to kill one another.”

  “Are you the photographer?” Wahlberg asked Bruce.

  “Aye, that I am,” he replied cheerfully.

  Looking passed Shaw, Wahlberg said, “Where is the demolitions expert?”

  “Dead. His parachute failed to open,” replied Shaw bluntly.

  Wahlberg swore.

  “We have the explosives with us,” said Anna. “Carl and Gert are carrying them.”

  “Thank God for that. This thing is unlike anything I have seen before,” said Wahlberg. “If it is a prototype aircraft, I don’t want them to get anything useable back.”

  Shaw said, “Where is the plane?”

  Wahlberg smiled and then looked up at the trees.

  Turning their heads, Shaw, Bruce, and Anna did the same. Above them, the boughs on the trees and been shattered and bent aside by the force of impact. Following the trail of broken limbs, they could see a trail carved through the woods that carried on for as far as the eye could see.

  “It’s sitting down there,” said Wahlberg, pointing into the woods.

  A chill ran down Shaw’s spine. For a moment, he felt as if he was being watched. His gut told him once more to be wary. He was sure that something sat quiet and waited for him in the woods…something more than a crashed German plane.

  “Now before we check out the plane, I suggest that we all eat some breakfast. It could be a long day,” said Wahlberg.

  “A brilliant suggestion, I could go for some nosh,” said Bruce, rubbing his hands together.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty hungry too,” said Shaw.

  “Are there plenty of explosives?” asked Wahlberg.

  “I think so, why?”

  “Because we found something else besides the plane out there.”

  “What did you find?” said Anna.

  “I have no idea and neither does anyone else,” answered Wahlberg. “All I know is that it has grown rather large over the past few days.”

  “I beg your pardon. Did you say that it had grown?” said Shaw.

  “Yes. And whatever it is, none of my men, me included, want to go near it. All I want to do is get rid of whatever it is,” replied Wahlberg, turning to leave.

  Shaw grabbed Wahlberg by the arm and said, “Did you report this to London?”

  “No. We found whatever it is after we had sent our request for assistance,” said Wahlberg. “It must have been buried in the snow when we found the crashed plane.”

  Shaw let Wahlberg go. Stopping, he watched as Anna and Wahlberg carried on towards the fire. Turning, he looked over at Bruce. “During breakfast I’m going to teach you how to work your Thompson.”

  “Why’s that sir?” replied Bruce.

  “Because right now you’re the only man I can trust.”

  “Right sir,” said Bruce. Looking down at his weapon, Bruce wished that he had taken the time to learn how to shoot better when he went through basic training.

  “Come on, Duncan. Let’s join the others and have some breakfast. You never know when you might get the chance to eat again,” Shaw said, hitting Bruce on the back.

  “I hope I get the chance to eat a meal back home,” said Bruce under his breath as he followed Shaw.

  9

  German military airfield - Haugesund

  January 19th, 1942

  The tri-engined Junkers JU 52 transport plane taxied down the long snow-covered runway. The freshly fallen snow swirled up into the cold morning air behind the plane as it made its way towards a group of men waiting at the far end of the airstrip. Coming to a halt, the plane’s engines were switched off as a couple of soldiers quickly ran under the plane’s wings and then kicked into place heavy wooden chocks against the wheels to prevent it from moving. At the back of the Junkers, the passenger door swung open.

  Major Vogel stuck his head out and felt the bitter wind whipping across the open ground as it assaulted his face. Pulling up his scarf, he glanced around and saw that the countryside was blanketed in snow. Vogel had happily changed from the dress uniform that he wore daily in Oslo into winter field attire. Carefully using his good hand, Vogel climbed down from the plane and looked for his escort. Waiting off to one side to greet him was a young lieutenant standing beside a white and green camouflaged jeep with its motor running. Seeing Vogel, the junior officer ran over and gave the stiff-armed Nazi salute. Vogel returned the man’s salute, bringing his hand up to the brim of his field cap as he had been taught when he was a young officer candidate. For a moment, he saw a look of confusion in the lieutenant’s eyes. Vogel knew that the officer had never known an army that wasn’t imbued with National Socialist rhetoric and traditions. For a brief moment, Vogel thought about educating the young man about true German military traditions, but decided that he didn’t have the time or the patience to waste on the officer. He had more important things to do today.

  “Good morning sir, my name is Lieutenant Beckers. On behalf of the garrison commander, Major Stengel, I am here to personally welcome you to Haugesund. Do you have any bags Herr Major?” asked the young officer.

  “Yes, I have two bags still on the plane,” replied Vogel.

  The jeep’s driver was dispatched to fetch the bags.

  A minute later, with Vogel comfortably seated in the front passenger seat, the jeep pulled away from the airstrip and headed towards Haugesund. Vogel saw that the town had been established beside an inlet that led out to the North Sea. The buildings were a mix of redbrick and multi-colored wooden structures. The town especially reminded Vogel of the fishing communities that dotted the landscape of Northern Germany. After a few minutes driving, the driver turned off the main road and drove towards what Vogel assumed was an old wooden factory that had been taken over as the headquarters for the German garrison. The building was two stories high and painted dark green. After a quick check of IDs at the front gate, the jeep slowly drove inside. The instant the jeep came to a halt the lieutenant jumped out of the back and hurried to open Vogel’s door for him. Climbing out, Vogel thanked Beckers and then told the driver to bring his bags inside right away.

  “Sir, if you’ll follow me,” said Beckers, “Major Stengel is waiting to greet you inside.”

  Vogel nodded his head and followed the lieutenant. Stepping inside, Vogel instantly felt the warmth of the building on his cold skin. It was a welcoming sensation after the freezing wind raging outside had cooled his body.

  On paper, the garrison at Haugesund was supposed to be a full infantry battalion of six hundred men; however, looking about, Vogel began to wonder about the accuracy of the reporting. He barely saw a soul moving about inside the building. He felt his jaw muscles tighten. If someone had falsified the unit’s readiness report, there’d be hell to pay, and he would be the man to collect for the devil himself.

  Beckers led Vogel to the back of the building and then up a flight of stairs to an office that overlooked the floor. Stopping outside the office, Beckers politely knocked on the door and waited. A moment later, a deep voice told them to enter.

  Vogel followed Bec
kers inside.

  “Good morning Major Vogel,” said Major Stengel as he stood up and walked out from behind his desk. Vogel could see that the man was in terrible shape and doubted that he ever left his office other than to eat and sleep.

  “Good day to you Major,” said Vogel brusquely. He was far from impressed with what he had seen so far and he had no intention of masking his feelings on the matter either. “Major Stengel, have you received and acknowledged your orders from Major-General Reckow?”

  “Yes I have Herr Major, but it will be hard to supply you with a company of men.”

  Vogel’s eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”

  “Many of my men are down with a debilitating stomach bug,” said Stengel, looking apologetic. “It just hit my men in the past few days. The doctor has quarantined hundreds of my men to the barracks until the men get better. I was told that they could be down for up to three days with this particular bug.”

  Of that, I have no doubt, thought Vogel. “Well then, what can you spare?” he asked, his voice growing angrier by the second.

  “Lieutenant Beckers has volunteered to lead forty men,” said Stengel looking over that the young officer. “They are the best and healthiest men under my command,” he said with a forced smile on his broad face.

  Probably the only forty men you could find fit enough for field duty, thought Vogel. The man and his command were a disgrace. Vogel intended to bring him up on charges the instant he got back to Oslo.

  “Herr Major, my men are waiting outside and are ready to go,” said Beckers as proud as a peacock.

  “Not yours, mine,” stressed Vogel, deliberately knocking the young officer down a couple of notches. The man needed to be taught who was in command, and it most certainly wasn’t him.