Incursion (A James Shaw Mission Book 1)

by Richard Turner

  In the resistance fighters’ camp, people shielded their eyes from the brilliant light surging out of the woods that for a brief moment turned the dull gray light of dawn as bright as day. Anyone standing was instantly bowled over by the powerful blast wave.

  Opening his eyes, Shaw found himself lying down looking up at the cold gray sky, winded. He lay there wondering if their explosive charges had accidentally gone off. The German Major had told him that they had found the craft and that he had disarmed the explosives himself. If the charges had detonated, then where was the sound from the blast? Rolling over onto his elbow, Shaw could see Bruce lying face down in the snow, not moving. Shaking his head to clear the spots still flashing in his eyes, Shaw moved over beside Bruce. Rolling him over, Shaw could see that his friend had been knocked out when his head hit the ground. Dragging his body over to a tree stump, Shaw propped Bruce up and then went to help with the other people still lying motionless in the snow.

  Wiping the blood away from its mouth, the Pilot lifted its head and looked back towards the camp. The fading flash of bright light told him that his craft was gone. It didn’t matter. The craft was un-repairable. His training told him to leave absolutely nothing behind. No matter how large or small, nothing could ever fall into the hands of inferior beings on the cusp of incredible technological advances. Wiping his blood-covered hands in the snow, he felt sated. Standing, he walked among the carnage he had created. Grabbing the body of the man he had cut open, he effortlessly tossed the body deeper into the woods. Bending down, he picked up a rifle. It felt odd and foreign in his hands. It was such an archaic weapon, but he knew that he would need it to complete his deception for just a little while longer. Turning his head, he looked up at the sky. He could sense the approach of others. Soon he would be able to leave this cold, inhospitable place. Taking a deep breath, the Pilot closed his eyes and concentrated. A second later, he began to walk back down the trail towards the camp.

  18

  Partisan camp

  Vogel looked around in disbelief; where the odd-looking craft had been there was nothing. Not a single piece of the craft remained. He had expected a hole at least several yards deep to have been created when the explosives went off. Instead, there was only a slight indentation in the ground. Even more troubling was that aside from a few charred weapons, there was no sign of the men he had left behind to guard the craft. He struggled to believe that a silent explosion could incinerate men and leave no remains, but there could be no other explanation.

  Wagner stepped up beside Vogel and with a cruel smile upon his face said, “I thought you said that you had removed the detonator from the explosives Herr Major.”

  The sarcasm in Wagner’s voice grated at Vogel. He had to suppress a growing desire to punch the black-coated toad right in the mouth. “I did,” snapped Vogel. “Did you hear a detonation? Because if you did, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer, then your hearing is better than mine.”

  Wagner saw the anger, like a coming storm, raging in Vogel’s face. He knew he had pushed it too far. Stepping back slightly, he said, “Perhaps the trees blocked the sound?”

  “If you had spent any time in the field soldiering, instead of being an apparatus of the Party, you would have realized how stupid you just sounded Herr Sturmbannfuhrer,” said Vogel sarcastically. Shaking his head in disbelief, Vogel turned to leave when he saw Sergeant Muller making his way towards him.

  “Do you have the casualty figures?” Vogel asked the sergeant.

  “Sir, we have three men dead, one of whom was killed by some escaping partisans. The other man at the cut-off site survived and managed to kill all of the Norwegians,” explained Muller. “There are also four men wounded. None of the wounds, thankfully, are life-threatening.”

  “That is good news,” said Vogel.

  “Sir, we have looked everywhere and cannot find any of the men we left to guard the plane. The must have all been incinerated in the blast.”

  Vogel nodded his head. “List them as missing for now. What about the Norwegians?”

  “Sir, during the assault we killed nine Norwegian partisans and captured four, including the American and British agents.”

  “Very good Sergeant, please see to our wounded. I want to leave in the next fifteen minutes. It’s a long walk, and I want to be back in our camp before nightfall.”

  Muller saluted Vogel and then headed back the way he came. He had to arrange transport for the wounded. The two allied prisoners were unhurt and Muller intended to use them to help carry some of the casualties out of the woods.

  Wagner left with the sergeant to grill the allied prisoners.

  Placing his right hand inside his jacket, Vogel stood there looking out over the scene of devastation. His mind was awhirl with questions. What was the strange plane and how had it exploded without a sound, levelling trees for fifty yards around it? He hoped that some of his answers were contained in the journal he had stashed away inside his jacket. Turning away, he slowly walked back towards the partisan camp.

  Just out of eyesight, two large shapes silently moved through the woods, stalking Vogel as he walked alone. They were hungry again; growing as fast as they did they needed constant nourishment to feed their rapid metabolism. Bred to protect and to kill, the animals could sense their master somewhere close to them. They were about to split apart and move on parallel tracks, preparing themselves for the hunt, when they heard an unfamiliar sound. Crouching down, they waited to hear it again. Instantly, their hearts raced in their chests, fueling their bodies with adrenaline and oxygen.

  A cold shudder wracked Private Fuchs’ body. Opening his eyes, he realized that he was lying on his back inside a deep snowdrift. Pushing the snow away from his face, Fuchs tried raising himself up to see where he was. A horrible stabbing pain radiating up from his left leg told him that it was broken. Gritting his teeth, Fuchs tried dragging himself out of the drift towards a tree barely three yards away. The pain shooting through his body was excruciating. He had never broken a bone in his life. Even though the temperature hovered around zero, sweat broke out on his forehead as he slowly crawled forward. A minute later, with his back propped up against a tree, Fuchs struggled to catch his breath. Looking down at his leg, he let out a low moan. Bloodied and jagged bone stuck out through his pants leg. He had a nasty compound fracture. Turning his head, he was about to call out for help, when he heard a low guttural growl in the woods just off to his right. His heart instantly started to race in his chest. Looking around, he tried to see where his weapon had landed. It was lying under another tree, perhaps ten feet away.

  Another growl filled his ears. This time it came from somewhere off to his left. Fuchs’ stomach tied itself in a knot when he realized that there were two animals out there hunting him. Fear gripped his entire body. Looking over at his weapon, it was close, but not close enough. Fuchs swore under his breath with his shattered leg, the rifle might as well have been back in Berlin.

  The sound of something large edging its way closer though the bush was all the incentive Fuchs needed. Adrenaline instantly surged through his body. Pushing himself away from his tree, he began to crawl as fast as he could through the snow. The pain in his leg was forgotten as his instinct for self-preservation kicked in. The rifle was soon no more than an arm’s length away, when Fuchs heard the sound of an animal growling close behind him. Had no doubt that whatever it was, it was only feet away. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. Resisting the urge to turn his head and see what it was, he kept moving, trying to reach his rifle before it was too late.

  Suddenly, Fuchs felt something take hold of his good leg. A second later, he felt a sharp pain shoot up his body as the bones in his leg snapped as easy as dry kindling. He tried to scream, but only a terrified whimper came out. Thrusting his hand out, he felt his fingers touch the butt of his rifle. Inching along, his fingers tried to get a grasp of the rifle. He needed only one second more and his rifle would be his, but he never got that second.

  With a sh
arp tug, the beast pulled Fuchs back and away from his rifle. Clenching his leg in its mouth, the creature began to pull Fuchs deeper into the woods, back towards its twin.

  Fuchs fought in vain to grasp hold of anything he could to stop himself from being dragged backwards. With tears in his eyes, Fuchs pleaded with God to save him. He didn’t want to die this way.

  Suddenly, he stopped moving; his leg fell free. The smell of rancid flesh filled the air. With his whole body trembling in fear, he slowly turned himself over so he could see what was behind him. A second later, he wished that he had not. All his eyes could see was a massive jaw as it opened up, exposing row after row of razor-sharp triangular teeth. His mind shut down just as the beast leapt forwards and placed its wide jaw around Fuchs’ head and then bit down, easily cracking open his skull. With its prey killed, the beast and its twin hungrily began to feast.

  19

  Weather Station

  January 20th, 1942

  Anna delicately placed her hand on the eyelids of the man she had been trying to save for the past hour and then slowly closed his eyes for the last time. She felt like crying, but what would that do to change anything? The man’s name was Nicholas. Anna had not met the man until a couple of days ago, and now he lay dead on the floor of the room they had been locked in. Standing up, she grabbed the nearest chair and then glumly sat down in it. Pulling the bloodied bandage from her head, Anna reached up and felt her chestnut-colored hair matted to her face where the bullet had grazed her head. Looking down at her hands, she saw that they were caked with dirt and blood. A shudder ran through her tired frame. Anna couldn’t remember when she had last bathed. She had no doubt that it had been more than a week, but she was so tired that she honestly couldn’t remember that far back. Everything in her life right now seemed to be locked in the small, barely heated room with her.

  Shaw walked over, placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “It’s not your fault. There was nothing more you could have done to help him. His injuries were just too severe.”

  “I know, but it’s still hard to watch someone die before your eyes,” she replied, her voice sad and drained.

  “What about the other two?” said Shaw, looking over at the two men asleep on the floor.

  “Erik has a bullet lodged in his leg,” said Anna. Getting out of her chair, she bent down to pull up the worn, gray blanket over the sleeping fighter. He was barely out of his teens, with short curly blonde hair and a thin beard growing on his face.

  “Can you remove it?” said Shaw.

  “No, I’m a nurse, not a surgeon,” she said, looking back at Shaw. “He needs someone to remove the bullet right away, or I fear he will lose his leg.”

  Shaw could see the anguish in her eyes. He wanted to do something to ease her pain, but there really was precious little he could do. “I’ll ask the German Major to have him taken to a doctor.”

  Anna nodded her head and then moved over beside the other fighter. His head was covered in a bloody bandage. The bullet had gone straight through his mouth, shattering his jaw. She knew she didn’t need to tell Shaw that the man also needed medical attention.

  The Germans had bandaged both men and given them morphine for their pain, but Anna knew that the dose would wear off shortly, and they would need another dose or they would both be in excruciating pain.

  “Can you hand me something to burn?” said Bruce to Shaw as he opened up the stove at the far end of the room. A few seconds later, with pieces of a smashed chair in his hands, Bruce stoked the growing fire. The warmth quickly filled the room, making it seem less like a frozen jail and somewhat hospitable.

  “How’s your head treating you?” Shaw asked Bruce.

  “It’s still a bit sore from where I hit it back at the camp, but I’ll live,” replied Bruce with a smile on his face.

  “Take it easy if you can. You hit the ground pretty hard. You may have a concussion, so no unnecessary running and jumping for at least a couple of days.”

  Bruce chuckled. They had been locked up inside the camp’s old weather office. He doubted that he could run and jump anywhere inside the cramped room.

  Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door, startling everyone inside the room. A second later, the door was thrown open and cold air rushed inside. Two German soldiers stood there with their rifles aimed at Shaw.

  “You are to come with us,” said one of the soldiers to Shaw.

  “Very well,” replied Shaw in German. “Before I go, could you ask your officer if we can get some more medical supplies for the two injured Norwegians?”

  The soldier nodded his head and then motioned with his rifle for Shaw to step outside.

  “Shan’t be long,” said Shaw to his compatriots.

  “See if you can get us a room with a view,” replied Bruce.

  Doing up his parka to protect his body from the biting wind, Shaw made his way outside. The sun was up, and for the first time since he had arrived in Norway, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. A minute later, Shaw found himself sitting down in one of the smaller offices of the camp’s headquarters building. Although dead tired, his curiosity grew by the second. A German soldier walked in and handed him a cup of steaming hot coffee and then without saying a word left. During his commando training, he had been taught how to resist Nazi interrogation techniques. One of the best ways to get a man to speak was not to beat them, but to treat them with kindness. The golden rule was seventy-two hours. If a person could stay quiet for seventy-two hours, then any information they had memorized would be considered out of date. Shaw knew he had to be wary. Still, there was no harm in accepting coffee, especially when he was exhausted.

  Major Vogel stepped into the room, looking refreshed. He had washed and shaved. Under his left arm was the journal he had taken from Shaw.

  “Captain Shaw, in case you have forgotten, my name is Major Vogel. I have been told that one of the partisans has succumbed to his wounds. Is this correct?” Vogel asked.

  “Yes it is. The other two men need proper medical care as well, or they will both die. Can you have them moved to a hospital?”

  “No, but I will have a doctor brought to them. Is this satisfactory?”

  Shaw was surprised by Vogel’s humanity. The man was not what he had expected from a Nazi officer. He wondered if it was all part of the act to break him down. “Major, that would be more than satisfactory, also I was wondering if you could spare some rations for us as well.”

  A sour looked emerged on Vogel’s face. “Have you not been given anything to eat?”

  Shaw shook his head.

  A minute later, a severely chastised Lieutenant Beckers headed out of the room to find out what was going on.

  “If you don’t teach them good habits early, they will only learn bad ones,” said Vogel to Shaw.

  Shaw simply grinned and then took a long sip of his coffee.

  Vogel placed the journal down on a small table and then looked over at Shaw. “I know that according to the Geneva Conventions, all you need provide me with are your name, rank and serial number. However, I need much more than that, and if you were in my shoes, I know you would feel the same way.”

  “Major, I am not sure what information I can provide you that will be of any value to you. What I can tell you is that Corporal Bruce and I are not spies. We are soldiers who are here on a very specific military mission.”

  Vogel slowly drummed his fingers on the closed journal. “Captain, let us not play games with one another. It is obvious that you were sent here to Norway to find out what happened to the plane that blew up in the woods. Once you had recorded every detail of the crash, you had been ordered to destroy it to prevent it from falling into our hands. Why else would it have been rigged with explosives?”

  Shaw felt himself being painted into a corner. “As I have no doubt that my Scottish friend would sing like a terrified canary if you were to let your SS counterpart near him, I will tell you what I know,” said Shaw. “For starters, my superiors thought
that it was a German plane that had crashed in the woods. After the resistance had contacted London, Corporal Bruce and I were dispatched immediately to take pictures of the craft. Once that was done, you are quite correct, we were to blow it up to stop your side from recovering the craft.”

  Vogel grinned and then said, “One of our sides is not being forthright. For now, we will leave that matter.”

  “Major, just in case you or your SS friend is curious, I can assure you that I do not know the names of any of the resistance fighters active in this area. The people to date have all given me false names to prevent their network from being exposed. And since they are all dead or dying, I doubt there is anything to gain from going down that rabbit hole either.”

  “For now that also can wait, what I want to know is why did you come to the weather station? Was it part of your mission?”

  “No, it wasn’t. When I heard that everyone had been found dead inside the camp, I knew I had to investigate what had happened. Call it morbid curiosity.” Shaw took a deep breath and then told Vogel everything, from the time they walked through the front gates until they left with the dead station commander’s journal.

  Vogel sat there quietly sipping from his coffee cup. He never asked a question. He seemed to be soaking in every word, every detail. When Shaw was done, Vogel asked him why he took the dead lieutenant’s journal. He was satisfied that Shaw was telling him the truth when he explained that he was curious to learn what had happened to the men inside the camp as he would have done the same. Sitting back in his chair, he asked Shaw to repeat precisely what had happened in the men’s barracks when they discovered the four dead soldiers.