The Maids of Chateau Vernet

by Steven Landry

  “But-,” his eyes narrowed. “I never mentioned Saarbrücken.”

  Rosette shrugged. “That was the plan. By bombing the bridges and rail crossing near Saarbrücken, Hiram hoped to stop the Holocaust Trains, at least temporarily, until the Americans and British can invade.”

  “Holocaust Trains?” he asked.

  “The mass murder of Jews in Europe by the Nazis will be known as the Holocaust. The trains that carry the Jews east from France and the Low Countries will be called Holocaust Trains.”

  “Does this man Hiram have more of these weapons?”

  “Yes, many more.” She let him think for a moment, then said, “Now you tell me about my children before I tell you anything else.”

  Locard sighed, his weariness growing. “Your children were sent to separate camps by the police. Leverette to a camp for men and boys near Marseille, called Camp des Milles. Sophia to Frontstalag 194 in the town of Vittel, in the Vosges Mountains. Both children are relatively safe for the moment.”

  “And the rest of the families from Camp Joffre?”

  He settled back in his seat, took a heavy breath. “On July 22nd the Jewish detainees from Camp Joffre were sent to the concentration camp at Drancy. This past Friday, most of them boarded a Holocaust Train, as you call them.” Rosette’s heart caught in her throat as Locard continued.

  “The train approached the French-German border when the explosion occurred, so your plan-“

  “Hiram’s plan,” she interrupted. “I thought my children were safe in Saint Chamond.”

  “I understand,” he said. “After the explosion, the train was diverted to the south to Vittel - the nearest available option. The prisoners are being transferred from the train to the Camp in the morning. My contact tells me the guard on patrol is light. I assume it will be supplemented by the guard assigned to the train.” Locard paused, and then smiled. “My superior, Captain Petain, is not happy they are still in France.”

  33

  1100 hours, Monday, August 10, 1942, northeast of Loches, Indre River Valley, Indre-et-Loire Department, Vichy France

  Hiram and Captain Trembley spent the morning reviewing the intelligence reports Trembley brought from England. Most of France’s “Army of the Armistice” and Army Air Force soldiers were stationed in North Africa, along with about half of France’s Navy. The remainder of the French Navy was reported in port at Toulon, on the Mediterranean Coast.

  “Hiram,” Agnes said, hesitant. The Babel Fish translated the rest of her words. “There’s something you should see.”

  Engrossed in one of Trembley’s maps, Hiram thanked her. He heard whispering behind him.

  “Hiram,” Trembley said, “I think it’s important.”

  For a second time, Hiram realized he had shooed Agnes away. He handed the map back to Trembley.

  Agnes looked at Trembley and then to Justine for guidance. Justine put a hand on Agnes’ back and pushed her forward. She handed Hiram her C2ID2 display unit.

  The monitor showed a rambling farmhouse surrounded on three sides by fields of grain. In an open area of dirt and grass between the house and barn, someone had placed a large number of painted white rocks and spelled the phrase FAMILLES ENVOYÉS VITTELCAMP and below it DÉPARTEMENT VOSGES followed by DANGER EXTREME.

  “What is that?” Trembley peered at the monitor over Hiram’s shoulder.

  “Video feed from a drone flying over a farmhouse where one of our people is being held,” Hiram answered. He read the words over again, considering the implications of the message.

  “Huh,” Trembley said.

  “Think of it like a film that you can see as it’s being made,” Agnes said.

  “I’ll show you,” Nathalie said. She took out and activated her own display unit, which showed the view from a drone circling above their position. “Ida, step out into that clearing over there and wave your arms about a bit.”

  Ida appeared on the display. Trembley looked back and forth between the real Ida out in the field to the one on the monitor. Once satisfied it was not a trick, he walked out into the field with Ida and searched the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun.

  “You can’t see it,” Ida said joining him in his skyward search. “Too small and too far up.”

  “It flies without a pilot?” Trembley asked.

  “We tell them where to go, but they fly on their own,” Ida replied. “We have three in the air at the moment. One flying above us like this,” she made figure eight motions in the air with her finger, “one over Saint Chamond and one searching for two of our people near Saarbrücken.”

  Hiram had only been half paying attention to the conversation the Babel Fish repeated in his ear. By the time he checked back in to the discussion, it was too late. He hadn’t intended to expose the drone technology to the Americans.

  Protecting his team’s technological advantages for as long as possible would increase their bargaining power, but he couldn’t blame them for the drone lapse he had caused. To their credit, neither Nathalie nor Agnes had mentioned the Icarus drone also flying above them. The Americans and Brits knew about the C2ID2s. As for the portal technology, he wouldn’t disclose his piece de resistance, unless necessary.

  Hiram looked away from the display and out to Trembley and Ida, still peering up into the sky and talking. Agnes stood close to him, focused more on the terrible words on the display than the thing that captured them.

  “What do we do, Hiram?” Agnes said, her words soft, desperate. The Babel Fish failed to capture her emotion.

  Before he could respond, Barbara pushed past Agnes and stood in front of him. She stabbed a finger at Rosette’s message on the display. “We go to Vittel now! We save the families!”

  “We’ll send a team south as soon as it’s dark,” Hiram said. “We don’t want the railbikes spotted during the day.”

  Satisfied with Hiram’s response, Barbara nodded then walked off with purpose, ready to kick everyone in gear to save their families. He returned Agnes’ display unit and said, “Keep an eye on the farm. Search for any signs it might be a trap. Find out how many people are in that house and the area around it.”

  “We are going to save them,” she said. Hiram debated whether she was asking a question or telling him it was going to happen.

  “We are going to try.”

  She nodded and walked away with the C2ID2. Hiram doubted Agnes would look away from the display without more news to report.

  Trembley, still searching for the drone above them, sidestepped his way back to Hiram. “What else do have hiding in your bag of tricks Hiram? I’d swear you practice witchcraft if we didn’t need what you’ve got to win this war.”

  Hiram took out his own display unit and set it to show a map of France on which he’d already superimposed a line of demarcation between Occupied France and Vichy France. Working with Trembley, he added the locations of major German units and headquarters.

  “Defensive preparations along the Mediterranean Coast are minimal compared to the Atlantic Wall,” Hiram said. “Except for the French fleet at Toulon.”

  “I agree. I suppose the Germans think they can shift forces to the coast faster than we can mount an invasion from Great Britain, despite the limitations of the terrain. Movement from north to south in southwestern France is constrained by the mountains, dormant volcanoes, and river gorges of the Massif Central and the westernmost Alps. Their spies have probably learned we intend to attack western North Africa before invading Europe. At least we did until a few days ago.”

  “For the sake of argument, if the fleet at Toulon no longer existed, and these two divisions belonging to 1st Army were also eliminated.” Hiram indicated the position of an infantry division near Moulins, across the demarcation line north of Vichy, and a panzer-grenadier division near Libourne, south of Bordeaux. “Then Vichy would have a difficult time repulsing a surprise invasion from the Mediterranean. What’s left of the German Army’s forces in France remain static divisions along the Atlantic Coast.
They can’t move without significant transportation support.”

  “Don’t forget the 2nd Waffen SS Panzer-Grenadier division here,” Trembley said as he pointed to Dijon in the Côte-d'Or Department. “They have a high-speed avenue of approach south along the roads paralleling the Rhone River all the way to the coast.”

  Hiram studied the map, looking for a choke point. “Here, south of Valence,” he said. “Minimal casualties if we plug them up here.”

  “If we put the eight divisions slated for Operation Torch ashore here,” Trembley indicated the broad sweep of coast from the French-Spanish border to Marseille. “And seize the passes coming down from the north before any additional German reinforcements arrive.”

  “And hold them long enough for the rest of the invasion force to arrive,” Hiram said.

  “But we leave a wide gap between the southern end of the Massif Central and the Pyrenees.” Trembley indicated a ten-kilometer-wide by fifty-kilometer-long valley of open farmland between Alzonne and Olonzac in the Aude Department. “That will be difficult to hold.”

  “It’s sparsely populated farmland,” Hiram said. “We can use the atomic weapons there without a lot of collateral damage. It’s a lot easier to employ them as we retreat than to set them on ground we are trying to take.”

  “Sounds like we have the beginnings of a plan,” Trembley said.

  A plan that will speed the end of the war. But not one that will save the families. Hiram excused himself, saying he needed to go talk to his team. He found Agnes near her railbike.

  “Can you cover for me for a little while? I need to do a little research. If Trembley shows up, let me know via C2ID2,” Hiram said. “Have you ever heard of Frontstalag 194?”

  Once the translator completed its work, Agnes shook her head.

  The camp must have been a minor one compared to Joffre. He found a quiet spot away from the group and sat down on a fallen tree. He searched for the unknown camp on the C2ID2, though he found few references that provided any detail. Initially, the place had been the spa town of Vittel with several well-known, glamorous hotels. Early in the war, a few of the buildings served as a hospital for French soldiers. Over a short period of time, Vittel transitioned into an internment camp for foreign citizens stuck in France during the German invasion. Vittel served as a poster child for the way an internment camp was meant to be run. The staff provided fresh, generous rations supplemented by packages from the Red Cross, running water, and medical care, and facilities for leisure activities. The guests at Camp Vittel had been encouraged to partake in leisure activities. They had even been allowed to receive mail and visitors from outside the camp.

  When he returned an hour later, he relayed his findings to Agnes. “Security is most likely lacking compared to an SS-run camp.”

  Agnes grinned. “Then it should be easier to free the families. Once we get them out of there, where do we go?”

  “It might be safer to leave them in Vittel. The Germans won’t start shipping prisoners out of the camp until 1944.” He refrained from adding that he had changed this version of history.

  “Barbara will never go for it,” Agnes said.

  “So, we send teams Foxtrot and Golf to keep watch from a distance. Frontstalag 194 is small and in the middle of the mountains. If they try to move the prisoners, we can set up an ambush.”

  34

  1800 hours, Monday, August 10, 1942, northeast of Loches, Indre River Valley, Indre-et-Loire Department, Vichy France

  Captain Trembley coded a message to be sent by HF radio to London, using a one-time cipher. Hiram took the time to relay the plan to invade southern France to his troops. He referred to the plan as Operation Roundup, a homage to the plan the Allies would not develop now that Hiram had meddled with the timeline.

  “Team Charlie,” Hiram said, “you’re going to work your way southwest toward Bordeaux. You’ll need to position yourselves near Libourne, where the 7th Panzer Division has set up camp. When you are in place, I’ll join you and employ one of the Mark XII’s.” Hiram didn’t relish playing another game of hop-scotch on French trains, but it was the only way to ensure that only he could bring a working Mark XII into the world.

  “The rest of us will travel southeast towards Vichy,” Hiram said. “Teams Delta, Foxtrot, and Golf will break off before we reach Vichy. Team Delta you’re going northeast to Moulins, where the German 15th Infantry Division is stationed. You’ll notice your proposed route has been programmed on your C2ID2.” The translator repeated his words.

  The individuals with the C2ID2s pulled up the maps on their display, while the others in their team looked on.

  “Teams Foxtrot and Golf, you’ll continue north to Vittel. You’ll need to monitor the camp until we can liberate the prisoners and get them to safety. Teams Bravo and Echo, you’re with me. We’re headed to Saint Chamond to free Rosette. Once we get Rosette out, Team Bravo will proceed south towards the coast. We’ll be deploying a Mark XII at Toulon to take out the French fleet. Team Echo, we’ll drop you off along the way near Valance.” No one seemed to contest the effort to save Rosette, not even Barbara.

  Agnes stepped forward. “Should we send the Icarus drone towards London,” she pointed upward. “Might take five days or more to get there, but we’d need to shut it down anyway. It’s too slow to keep up with us. I expect it’ll arrive before the invasion fleet departs, assuming our plan is approved in the first place.”

  “Good idea. Ida, tell Captain Trembley to include a note in his radio message for Sarah to begin checking her C2ID2 for a signal in four days.” Ida nodded and stepped away from the group to relay the message.

  “Team Charlie, you’ll have to launch an Icarus drone upon arrival at your staging point,” Agnes added, the Babel Fish translating for Hiram’s benefit. “We won’t be in contact with you once you move out of C2ID2 range.”

  “She’s right,” Hiram said. “The distance is going to push the limits of the drones. Make sure each team has the necessary equipment before we leave.”

  After Rosette’s unexpected departure and his inability to locate Deborah and Danette after the event in Saarbrucken, Hiram had learned his lesson. He refused to let the modified railbikes out of his sight without a means to find them. He handed Isadore a bag full of radio-frequency identification chips and a tube of superglue.

  “Glue one of these on each railbike, somewhere under the driver’s seat,” he said. “Record the number of each chip on your C2ID2. We’ll be able to track the railbikes with the Icarus drones that way.”

  As the women around him discussed the plan, Hiram thought of Deborah. He had convinced himself Deborah and Danette had survived the blast in Saarbrücken, but the more time that passed the less likely the possibility he would see them again. Why in the hell had he taken such a risk! He would not give up on them – on Deborah. “Any sign of Danette and Deborah?”

  “Nothing yet.” Agnes offered a hopeful smile. “Isadore continues searching the area with the drone.”

  “We need another railbike, which means I have to go into the pod. And I don’t want Trembley to see me do it,” he said.

  Agnes looked in Trembley’s direction, Hiram joined her.

  “Do you think Ida could keep him occupied for a while?”

  Agnes’ left eyebrow went up as she searched for the reason of his request.

  “I’m going over to Team Golf’s position on the other side of the ridge. I can open the portal there. It will take Justine and Emma at least an hour to assemble another railbike.”

  “You need a little privacy. Understood.” Agnes headed off toward Ida while the Babel Fish continued its translation. Hiram headed up the hill.

  Two hours later, Hiram’s band of nuclear insurgents stood ready to head off into the darkness. Everyone bid goodbye to Irene, Denise, Camille, and Joanne. As Team Charlie disappeared, Hiram and his remaining troops headed southeast.

  Captain Trembley and Charlotte rode in Hiram’s sidecar, first in line for another long jou
rney down the tracks. Charlotte scouted ahead via the drone, running figure eights around the tracks, searching for concentrations of troops and ensuring the train stations along the way posed no imminent danger.

  The American marveled at the speed of the railbikes and seemed enchanted by the night vision goggles. Hiram had also armed him with an M22 assault rifle. While Justine finished assembling the railbike, Ida convinced him he needed proper training to be able to carry such a powerful weapon. Barbara, eager to destroy as many of the bad guys as possible, jumped at the chance to get one more soldier up to speed.

  Hiram ignored the man’s delighted observations as they sped down the tracks. His thoughts travelled eastward, toward the area just outside of the devastated city of Saarbrücken. Deborah, where are you?

  35

  1845 hours, Thursday, August 13, 1942, Saint Chamond, Loire Department, Vichy France

  Rosette stared out a west-facing window, searching for any sign that her message had been received. The sun had sunk below the horizon, but twilight would linger another couple of hours. In the distance, a hunched shape, Alphonse Benoit, the farm’s owner and Emile Locard’s uncle, cleared debris from an irrigation ditch. Alphonse’s wife Janel milked cows in the barn, leaving Rosette alone in the small kitchen, tasked with peeling potatoes.

  “Rosette,” a women’s voice called from the open doorway behind her. She spun at the sound, adjusting the paring knife to a fighting grip as she did so.

  “Ida!” She dropped the knife in the bucket of potato peels and rushed to embrace her. “I can’t believe you made it here.”

  “It wasn’t easy with the police checkpoints on the roads near every town.”

  “What about the others?”

  “You don’t think they let me come after you alone, do you?”