The Maids of Chateau Vernet

by Steven Landry

  Donath nodded, shook Hiram’s hand, and the introductions continued. The women who had accompanied Hiram fell into quiet conversation with the French Partisans, whose attention seemed drawn to the advanced weapons they carried.

  Donath and Trembley said a few more words before laughter erupted between them. Trembley made friends with ease.

  Trembley, Donath, Deborah, and Hiram discussed the guard detail around the railyard. Trembley translated. Charlotte’s numbers came in a little shy, but Hiram suspected Donath’s men might be the kind who overestimated and prepared for the worst.

  “Most of the men guarding the train climbed into a truck and left about two hours ago, heading north,” Trembley said. “You have anything to do with that?”

  “Captain Petain can be most persuasive when he has a gun pressed to his ribs,” Hiram said. “And in case you’re thinking of ways to deal with Petain after this is over, we already have plans for him.”

  “Yes, Captain Trembley told us one of your soldiers is the mother of that poor girl he shot. She deserves her revenge. I presume you have a plan. How can we help?”

  “Okay, here’s what I want to do.” Hiram used a picture of the railyard taken from the overhead drone to illustrate his primary plan. “We enter the camp through the north gate in Petain’s sedan. I’ll drive. Petain will join me in the front passenger seat, Deborah and Nora in the back seat. Simone, Catherine, and Pauline will follow on one of the railbikes. Everyone will wear civilian men’s clothes, including the women. It’ll be dark, and Petain’s credentials should get us through the gate without much trouble.”

  Donath and Trembley nodded.

  Hiram continued. “Petain will tell his remaining men they are being relieved and gather them together here.” Hiram pointed to a spot near the locomotive. “We should be able to get the drop on them.”

  “And if they put up a fight?” Donath said.

  “It won’t be a fair one,” Trembley said. “Hiram’s team has weapons that don’t make a sound and goggles that allow them to see in the dark.”

  “Speaking of which…” Hiram signaled Team Charlie to distribute the silenced nine-millimeter pistols, Milkor grenade launchers, and AT-7 anti-tank missiles they’d hauled up the hillside. “Sorry, I don’t have any spare night vision goggles to give you.”

  “These’ll do just fine,” Donath said, examining one of the Milkors. “How long to train my men?”

  “A half-hour, max,” Hiram said. Trembley seemed disappointed that he wasn’t getting an M22 with night vison scope, but he said nothing. “And I’ve got an HF radio for Captain Trembley so we can stay in contact once we deploy the jammer.”

  “Jammer?” Donath and Trembley said at once.

  “As soon as the convoy enters the camp, I’ll activate an all-spectrum radio jammer. It can be programmed to allow our signals to go through, but not anyone else’s.” Hiram had found the tech in Jacob’s pod. “Can you have one of your men cut the phone lines leading out of the railyard?”

  “No problem,” Donath smiled as he admired the sleek pistol. “I’ll put Sean on it. He likes to climb.”

  “Once we’ve subdued Petain’s men, we’ll stick them in a cattle car and wait for the convoy from Camp Joffre.”

  “How long before they arrive?” Trembley said.

  Hiram looked at his watch. “An hour, maybe a little less. Once we’ve loaded everyone on the trucks, we’ll leave through the south gate, here.” He touched the gate on the map.

  “Then we’re free to torch the place?” Donath said.

  “Right. Tear the place up as best you can,” Trembley said. “We’ll want as much confusion as possible.”

  “Looking forward to it.” Donath showed his teeth as he traded the pistol for the Milkor.

  * * *

  Hiram made the excruciating trek back to Team Charlie’s location with Deborah and Team Delta. He struggled to stand by the time they arrived and sat on the ground disseminating the plan to his soldiers.

  “How far out is the convoy now?” he asked Irene.

  “About forty-five minutes,” she said.

  “Barbara, take Team Charlie and head up to the wood line and assume your positions. Delta, let’s get going.” Hiram limped off toward the Citroën.

  Nora continued to operate her drone from the backseat of the car as they drove around the mountain and down into the town of Peyraud. Hiram slowed the sedan and removed his night vision goggles when the railyard’s north gate came into view.

  “Nora, better shut it down until we pass the guard post.” Hiram directed a quick glance at Petain. “If you want to keep on breathing, don’t do anything stupid.”

  Petain looked at Hiram for a moment while Deborah translated, then nodded.

  The sedan stopped at the gate and a guard approached Hiram’s side of the car. Petain called out the window, waving the guard over to his side. They exchanged a few words, Petain flashed his credentials, and the guard waved the car and the trailing railbike through.

  Twenty meters into the railyard, Nora powered up her C2ID2. She gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” Hiram said.

  “You need to see this,” Deborah said.

  Hiram stopped the car and Nora handed him the display. She leaned over the seat, reached in, and pointed to a line of red heat signatures moving west on the highway along the Moselle River. Hiram tapped the screen and the view changed from thermal to low-light visual mode. A clear line of thirteen half-tracks, two pulling heavy mortars and led by three tanks, appeared on the screen. He stared at the image. “Well, that changes things.” A reinforced mechanized infantry column headed toward Pont Saint Michael.

  47

  0415 hours, Monday, August 17, 1942, Pont Saint Vincent, Meurthe-et-Moselle Department, Vichy France

  Pauline pulled up beside the stopped Citroën, her NVGs reflecting the glow of Deborah’s C2ID2. “Pauline thinks they are passing through,” Deborah said as she touched Hiram’s arm. Simone and Catherine leaned in the left side windows waiting for more.

  “With orders to exterminate the families on the way through,” Simone said. Deborah translated. “Can we take that chance?”

  Pauline looked away from the car.

  In the backseat, Nora studied her C2ID2 display while the others talked. She blurted something out in French, interrupting them all. “What if we give them another target?” Deborah said.

  “Another target?” Hiram said.

  Nora spoke and Deborah continued to translate. “Something on the other side of the river. The company is still well north of the bridge here.” Nora pointed to a bridge in Maron, about five kilometers downstream of Pont Stain Vincent. “If we get them across the bridge, we can blow it up behind them. And, be long gone before they could get back across the river.”

  Hiram looked at the display with Deborah. The La Madon River joined the Moselle in Pont Saint Vincent in a confusion of tide pools, rapids, and tight turns in the two rivers. As a consequence, the French had built the Canal de l’Est to route vessels around the troubled waters. A long narrow island divided the canal from the north-flowing river, stretching from near Flavigny-sur-Moselle all the way to Maron. The Allies had destroyed any bridges that spanned both the river and canal. A single bridge stood across the canal, about three kilometers north of Pont Saint Michael, which provided access to the island, but didn’t extend across the river.

  Allied bombing had destroyed the highway bridge connecting Pont Saint Michael with Neuves-Maisons on the north side of the river. The railway bridge over the Moselle River stood fast, though a portion of the bridge that crossed the canal had collapsed.

  “What are these?” Deborah pointed to a man-made structure just south of the railroad bridge. Hiram zoomed in.

  “Locks on the canal,” he said after studying the image for a moment.

  Hiram looked at Nora and smiled. “I like it, but let’s take care of the guards first.”

  * * *

  Hiram stopped the sedan at the
spur where the holocaust train sat idle. His soldier’s families waited inside. Pauline and Catherine pulled up beside them on the railbike.

  One of Petain’s guards approached the incoming vehicles. He readied his weapon, took slow, calculated steps toward them. He called out to the policemen on-site. Two of the men nearby turned toward the incoming vehicle with weapons ready. In the darkness, more watched unseen.

  Petain climbed out of the car and said, “I’m Captain Petain.”

  The man snapped to attention and saluted. “Officer Reynard, sir.” He called out to the policemen and Hiram noticed a change in their stance. A man echoed Reynard’s words to those waiting deeper in the railyard.

  Hiram and Deborah climbed out of the car and joined Petain. The others on the bikes dismounted and congregated behind the police captain.

  Petain returned a casual salute and said a few words. He made a familiar motion with his hands as if to invite the men to come in closer.

  Standing beside him, Deborah repeated Petain’s words in a whisper. “He says there are only five guards on duty. Petain is relieving the men.”

  Officer Reynard called out again to the men. In minutes, all five of Petain’s men stood before him in a line armed with bolt action rifles and pistols. Petain addressed his team, his tone casual.

  “He says to prepare for inspection,” Deborah said. “Now put your hands up.”

  The guards looked back and forth at one another and back at Petain.

  Reynard said, “Capitaine?”

  Petain held his hands up the way he intended his men to comply. One by one, the men became aware of their captain’s betrayal and their hands headed skyward.

  * * *

  0445 hours, Monday, August 17, 1942, North Bank of the Moselle River, Moron, Meurthe-et-Moselle Department, Vichy France

  Hiram and Simone touched down in a cornfield one kilometer north of where the river and canal split near Maron. The precision of their landing did not spare his injured ankle. He bit down hard trying not to scream from the pain, catching the side of his tongue. The taste of blood filled his mouth. Hiram leaned on his good leg and took a few deep breaths while Simone fought to gather up the parachute snagged on the tough corn stalks. She had taken a chance jumping through the twin portals, even though he had promised safe passage. They had both made it safely to the ground.

  Simone helped Hiram down to the river bank, occasionally bumping helmets on the way down. He opened his pack on the gravel shore, activated the portal inside, and hopped down the ladder into the pod, careful to keep his weight on his good leg. He dragged a quick deploy motorized RHIB and a few drift mines over to the base of the ladder. The small black explosive devices, designed for underwater attacks, contained ten kilos of explosives. He passed the boat up through the portal to Simone, then began the painful climb up the ladder with the mines cradled in his arm. Several agonizing minutes later, they boarded the RHIB and motored out into the Moselle. Hiram scanned the shore with his NVGs.

  “Hawk, this is Echo.” Charlotte’s voice came through his helmet. The Babel Fish translating a few seconds behind. “Reference point Papa Tango, over.”

  Charlotte had taken over tracking the mechanized infantry company via drone while Nora was busy with Petain’s men. Reference point Papa Tango sat at the outer edge of Pierre-la-Treiche, a village six kilometers north of Maron. Under blackout conditions, Hiram expected the column to travel about ten kilometers an hour.

  The RHIB approached the bridge. Hiram and Simone maneuvered the small vessel into position adjacent to one of the concrete piles near the center of the span. Hiram picked up a floating mine, powered on the device, and set it into the water. It slipped below the surface, a spaghetti-thin aerial the only visible indicator of its position above the murky water. He secured the explosive to the pile. They maneuvered the RHIB next to another pile, where he repeated the process.

  With the mines placed, Hiram activated his C2ID2.

  “Echo, this is Hawk, over.”

  “Hawk, this is Echo, over.” Charlotte wore a helmet similar to his. In tandem with the C2ID2’s tactical mode, they communicated via the wireless earpieces and microphones built into the helmets.

  “Echo, Phase One complete, moving to Phase Two, over.”

  “Roger, Hawk. Target is midway to reference point Sierra Foxtrot. Hurry, over.” The column would make one final turn through the village of Sexey-aux-Forges before reaching the bridge across the Maron. He was running out of time.

  “Wilco. Hawk out.” They passed under a bridge, the flow of water more disagreeable around the footings. A set of dim lights passed overhead.

  Deborah spoke in his ear. “Hawk, this is Alpha, over.”

  “Alpha, this is Hawk, over.”

  “Hawk, the convoy arrived. We’ve captured the drivers. No casualties. We’re transferring the prisoners from the train to the trucks as fast as we can. The drivers are cooperating, but it’s a slow process, over.”

  “Roger, Alpha. How much more time do you need, over?”

  “Another hour, Hawk. Over.”

  “Roger, Alpha. Hawk, out.”

  The railway bridge came into view in their night vision goggles and they headed for the shore.

  Gravel crunched underneath the RHIB’s bow as it grounded on the eastern shore of the island, one hundred meters north of the northernmost gun emplacement. Simone dragged the boat to shore, while Hiram erected the small tent to mask the glow from the portal. He laid out his pack on the floor of the tent, opened it, and activated the portal inside.

  Hiram climbed in and retrieved the parts for four combat robots. Simone pulled the parts out of his hands as he passed them up. He grabbed two more drift mines and headed up the ladder.

  By the time Hiram emerged, Simone had assembled the first of the robots. Simone’s familiarity with the design and operation of the devices made her the ideal partner on this endeavor. Ten minutes later, the remaining combat robots stood beside the first. Armed with electro-magnetic grenade launchers loaded with a mix of 40mm high explosive and incendiary munitions, Simone sent the mechanical monsters down the riverbank toward the locks.

  Hiram tied off the two new drift mines to the boat’s main spar. Simone helped him into the RHIB, then pushed him back into the water before returning to her robot controls.

  He repeated the process of attaching the floating bombs to the lock gates and motored back to shore. He programmed them to go off in six minutes. If the situation changed, he could detonate by remote control.

  “Hawk, this is Echo, over.” Charlotte’s voice carried more urgency than her last communication.

  “Echo, this is Hawk, over.”

  “Hawk, the enemy column is passing reference point Sierra Foxtrot, over.”

  “Echo, is Falcon in place, over?”

  “Roger, Hawk. Falcon reports all elements are in place. Charlie and Delta are awaiting the signal, over.”

  “Echo, five minutes to detonation. Hawk, out.”

  48

  0510 hours, Monday, August 17, 1942, Pont Saint Vincent, Meurthe-et-Moselle Department, Vichy France

  Charlotte grew more anxious as the enemy column moved closer to the railyard. The line of vehicles snaked down the road past Sexey-aux-Forges. A bright spot blossomed on her screen alongside the canal locks. In front of her, the night sky lit up for a few seconds. The familiar boom followed. A few seconds later, another bomb detonated closer to the shore. Neither bomb inflicted any real damage to the locks. But no one could deny an attack was underway. Water and debris continued to rain down from the twin explosions as the four combat robots opened fire on the lock’s control booths, powerhouse, and administration building from positions along the canal’s western shore farther downstream. The position of the robots presented the illusion that a more sizable force had dug in along the canal.

  The combat robots unloaded high-visibility incendiary grenades and loud explosive grenades. Bright, thundering explosions drove the frightened guards and w
orkers to abandon the locks. A few of the men running from the powerhouse disappeared into the patches of trees that lined the road.

  The enemy column slowed to a stop. The assault on the powerhouse continued, although the combat robots slowed their rate of fire.

  When the column began to move again, they turned left down a narrow road that followed the shore. Another left and a right led them through the center of a small village and back through La Corvée. The column lumbered toward the only bridge that could get them across the river.

  Charlotte touched Barbara’s arm, and pointed to the moving column on the display. Barbara nodded and relayed information to Teams Charlie and Delta, Deborah, Hiram and Simone, and Captain Trembley and the partisans.

  When Barbara completed her transmission to Trembley, she adjusted her position. She lay down beside Charlotte and aligned her body to form a straight line from her right foot to the muzzle of the M22.

  “Targeting the shorter man up top,” Barbara said. “Try to keep an eye on his buddy.” Barbara spoke of the two guards standing atop the railyard control tower.

  “Roger,” Charlotte said. The firefight across the river continued to draw the guards’ attention and they neglected their watch. She doubted they would notice Captain Trembley and the French partisans moving toward the railyard perimeter, but she kept an eye on the second man anyway, switching between the view on the screen and the tower in front of them.

  The weapons fire across the river slackened as the combat robots ran low on ammo. The guards atop the tower kept their eyes on the mayhem.

  “A few more minutes,” Charlotte said. On her display, the enemy vehicles crossed over the Moselle one by one.

  “Merde.”

  “What’s wrong,” Barbara asked, not taking her eye off the target in her scope.

  “Three Panzers at the end of the column changed direction again,” Charlotte said. “They’re headed south. I bet the bridge isn’t rated for the weight of the tanks.”