Cold Lonely Courage (Madeleine toche Series Book 2) (18 page)

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CHAPTER
FORTY-SEVEN

Madeleine had been feeling out of sorts and nervous all afternoon. Stenger and Willi sensed it right away. They said nothing, but the tension in the small police station was growing. Suddenly a wave of fear hit her. She clutched her stomach and sank down onto a cot. She had a strong intuition. All of the women in her mother’s family had it. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Madeleine felt it physically. She wasn’t sick. Her emotion was grief, and she was struck by it as intensely as she had been when Yves died. There was no mistake; she had lived with it for more than three years. She was wild to find out what had happened.

“Stenger! Help!” She screamed instinctively. Stenger and Willi were through the door in an instant.

Stenger saw Madeleine’s face contorted in fear. He had seen fear too many times to be mistaken. He went directly to her, Willi close behind. Without hesitation Madeleine threw herself into his arms.

“Something horrible has happened to my family,” she cried into his chest. He held her gently as huge sobs shook her body. Stenger looked over at Willi and caught his eye. He had been right. There was more human compassion and love in the woman he held than he had suspected. He pushed aside his amazement and held her in her torment. It was as real as if she had witnessed a loved one’s horrible death.

“I have to go home,” Madeleine pleaded.

“Where are your parents? The time for secrets is over,
mademoiselle.
I’ll call the police station there and have them run a routine check.”

Madeleine thought quickly. Stenger was right. This was her first step in regaining some trust in the world. If she couldn’t trust him, who could she trust?

“La Ciotat. We own a small restaurant, Chez Toche.”

“Toche. That is a strong name,” Stenger said in a reassuring tone.

Madeleine began to regain her composure as Willi left the room to place a call to the police station in La Ciotat.

Minutes later, Willi’s call went through, luckily, considering the chaos and cut phone lines up north.

“Chez Toche on
Le Boulevard de la Republique
is open for business. One Jean-Pierre and Claire Toche are offering a
daube de boeuf
and
potage de Pommes-de-terre
on the board today. They are safe and sound,
mademoiselle.”

“My name is Madeleine. I am Madeleine Toche. I’m an officer in the British army, a special operations division. Thank you, Willi. At least I know my parents are safe. It makes me feel a little better, but I can feel that something is wrong.”

“Saying it only confirms what I know,
mademoiselle.
I suspected all along that you were with the SOE. They’re the best, but it doesn’t change anything. We will all surrender to the British or Americans. Willi and I have both done it before.”

“The Great War?”

“Willi and I were at the Marne, among other delightful locations.”

“My father’s leg is still there,” Madeleine replied, her initial panic having somewhat subsided.

“Did you hear that, Willi? The Marne,” Stenger said turning.

“Then we’re almost family,” Willi said, smiling. “Did your father ever tell you about it?”

“He told me many things after my brother died. He was killed in the first days of fighting up north.”

“Lots of painful memories there,” Stenger said. “My generation was used as cannon fodder, mostly by foolish officers fighting a modern war with conventional tactics.”

“My father says the same thing, and that your sacrifice has been forgotten.”

“One million causalities at Verdun. I guess that wasn’t enough for the world,” Stenger said, his voice trailing off, sitting down heavily.

No one spoke, but it was clear that they had cast aside any remaining barriers between them. Souls had been laid bare. Madeleine was now bound beyond her word. Stenger knew she would never do anything to put her parents in danger.

“An SOE agent? No wonder you took me so easily, Madeleine. But much more importantly, your family owns a restaurant. Can you cook?” Horsty here is pretty good with boot leather, but I’m tired of that,” Willi said, smiling.

“You just show me a kitchen, Willi,” she answered as she stood.

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CHAPTER
FORTY-EIGHT

Field Marshal Erwin Rommel’s face was pained as he read the details in a report concerning a cursory investigation of the destruction of Oradour sur Glane. It was a two-page document intentionally devoid of any meaningful detail. Not a man prone to intense outward displays of emotion, he paused as he finished reading the document and lowered his head and slowly shook it from side to side. The report was conclusive enough to tell him what he needed to know, that an SS division had razed a town and murdered its entire population. He swung around in his chair and looked out the window of his office and contemplated the disaster unfolding as Germany tried to defend against the invasion. His hands were tied. All command decisions had to go through Hitler’s office. All of Rommel’s pleas to station armor near the front had been ignored. The tragedy of the town was a direct result of that stupidity. The farther away your armor is, the more time, fuel, and resources it took to bring it to bear. He had argued that the longer the road to the front, the more opportunity for the Resistance to attack. Unless the invasion became a stalemate, Germany’s chance to negotiate reasonable terms of peace with the Allies will be lost, he thought. Without a negotiated peace, they’ll crush Germany into oblivion.

He stood up and began to pace. He wondered whether Germany would be permitted to exist as a nation after the war. Some officers had taken the more direct approach by trying to assassinate Hitler. He had not participated in any of that. His duty was to his men and the defense of Germany. Things had been much easier in the beginning of this war, he mused. He thought of the heady days in command of the seventh
Panzer,
his beloved “Ghost Division,” spearheading through France like a blazing meteor gobbling up and casting aside military resistance wherever he encountered it. Sometimes he had been so far ahead of the rest of the German army that even command headquarters didn’t know where he was, hence the name, ‘Ghost’. This was his second war leading men into battle by example, and, sometimes, by reckless bravery. He had the privilege of serving with men of monumental courage and determination. This abomination could not go unanswered. A country has a right to defend itself. When combatants fight, they know they risk death. The women and children of Oradour were not combatants.

Rommel made a decision. Although not technically his responsibility, an investigation had to be completed. He wanted there to be examples of propriety and adherence to the rules of war followed by German officers when future generations looked back. I’m not going to turn a blind eye, he thought. My troops do not engage in murder. I can’t understand how any man can condone such savagery. He walked out into the adjoining office where his aides and staff officers were located and called for his secretary.

“Find out where Major Horst Stenger is stationed. He’s military police. Once you find him, place a call to him immediately. Tell me as soon as you have him on the line.”

Rommel walked back into his office and picked up the papers on his desk. It was time to move, he thought. He commanded from the front and expected his officers to do the same. The fight was right down the road along with his duty. If his old friend and comrade in arms, Horst Stenger, couldn’t get to the bottom of what happened in Oradour, no one could. Horst was brave and smart. He had a tenacity that when unleashed was inspiring. Rommel had commanded him in the first war. Stenger had proven himself beyond measure. Horst would find out what happened and produce a report for Berlin that would also bear Rommel’s name. One last act of decency, even if he knew in his heart no one would be punished.

Stenger’s face blanched as he listened to his old commander over the phone.

“Horst, I’m not sure what happened over there, but I do know that over eight hundred civilians were massacred,” Rommel said quietly.

“General, I don’t know what to say except that I’ll find out.”

“Thank you, my friend. Of course, remember that they’re SS and highly unlikely to take kindly to your involvement.”

“Is the word out yet?”

“It’s out there enough so that
Das Reich
and that fool Lammerding will tread lightly. I’m sure that he’ll blame some subordinate, claiming he had no direct knowledge of it. I just want names and their personal actions. I’ve dispatched a courier to give you the appropriate orders. You should have them in your hands before the end of the day. Now I’m off to the front. I trust your decisions more than my own sometimes, Horst.”

“Is there anything but war for us, Erwin?” Stenger asked, speaking to a friend who he sensed he might never see again.

“Not for me, Horst. Make sure there is for you and Willi. You two are the best soldiers I have ever known.” With that Rommel slowly set down the receiver and abruptly walked out of his office.

Stenger went back to the kitchen and found Madeleine and Willi playing cards and filling the little room with cigarette smoke. They both looked up, sensing something wrong.

“What’s happened, Major?” Madeleine asked, her face suddenly serious.

“That was Field Marshal Erwin Rommel calling me about some police work,” Stenger replied.

“Did it have to do with me?” Madeleine said.

“No, Madeleine. All I seem to have left is my word and I gave it to you. We’re not telling anybody about you.”

“Do you need anything from me?” Willi said, concern on his face. Stenger could never hide anything from Willi. They read each other’s emotions openly.

“Just stay here for now, Willi. I’m taking a trip, strictly police business. I am afraid it’s bad business.”

“I thought we were out of that now,” Willi said with a sad smile.

“This is a direct order from General Rommel. He needs a report on some SS activity,” Stenger said, skirting the truth. He hadn’t failed to notice the flash of interest in Madeleine’s eyes as he mentioned the SS.

“Remember,
mademoiselle,
you’re retired,” Stenger said, giving Madeleine a meaningful glance.

“Of course,” Madeleine smiled demurely, slightly inclining her head.

Stenger looked at Madeleine. She was so beautiful, in the way that only daughters of the Mediterranean can be. The years of killing and running hadn’t harmed her savage beauty. In the last few days he had learned more about her and concluded that his decision to spare her might have been one of the best decisions of his life.

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CHAPTER
FORTY-NINE

Stenger rode with a detachment of regular army troops past the road sign marking the entrance to the doomed town of Oradour. Their vehicle pulled up to a roadblock staffed by some SS troops.

“Can I help you, Major?” the soldier asked, having made no effort to have the truck blocking access to the town moved.

“Yes, you can get that truck out of the way and let me through.”

“I can’t sir. My orders are to allow no one in without permission from General Lammerding.”

“How about permission from his senior officer Field Marshall Erwin Rommel?” Stenger said handing over an enclosed case holding one of several copies of his orders signed by the Field Marshall.

“I, I don’t know if…” the soldier said, clearly confused.

“See this insignia, corporal? Military police. I am giving you a direct order. If you do not follow it I will have you shot on the spot. Perhaps I’ll order one of those fellows to do it.” Stenger had allowed his voice to build until he was shouting. He stood up in the vehicle and unbuttoned the flap covering his side arm. The corporal’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as he shrunk in the face of Stenger’s barrage.

“Move that truck,” the corporal stammered, as he hastened to distance himself from Stenger and his pistol.

Stenger intentionally glared at the corporal as they passed and the men proceeded into the town. As they entered the outskirts Stenger’s driver slowed. It wasn’t long before the men in the vehicle grew silent as they surveyed the damage. It seemed as if every building had been demolished and then set on fire. Stenger’s face was grim as he directed the driver to stop in the village square.

“Spread out, I want pictures and notes taken. We’ll meet back in an hour.” Stenger said, exiting the vehicle.

The men moved cautiously, as if on hallowed ground. Something evil had taken place. Stenger didn’t have to walk far before he saw signs that a crime scene had been compromised. Heavy equipment had been used to move earth and, presumably, bodies. There was evidence in every building he looked into of arson and cremation. In their haste, charred body parts had been overlooked as they had been hastily collected and most likely shoved into communal graves. An untrained eye might have missed the pieces of human bone scattered everywhere. To Stenger, it was unmistakable. It looked like a bone yard.

Walking out from the perimeter of the town, Stenger approached the remnants of a church and looked inside. He saw more than one child’s clog that had not been completely engulfed by the flames and explosions that had ravaged the interior. He saw blood cooked by intense heat into the porous stone floor of the building. Tears stood in his eyes as he realized the magnitude of the barbarity that had obliterated the people of the small town. He had seen carnage in war, and as a detective in civilian life. He had seen dead children, both as casualties of war and as victims of the worst of crimes. He knew that hundreds of women and children had died in the most horrible manner imaginable within the confines of a house of God. The evidence was beyond dispute. He raised his own camera and began to take pictures, having to stop periodically to wipe tears from his eyes so that he could do his work and record the shadows that remained of an unspeakable act that demanded justice. He knew that his report would be read with the usual degree of efficiency and then no significant action would be taken. Stenger shook his head silently, horrified that such a crime would go unpunished and the victims forgotten. He was not so calloused by war that his humanity was corrupted. In truth it was the one thing that saw him through his first war, killing to keep himself and his friends alive. Humanity had driven him to pursue a life of service and to hunt down those that preyed on innocence.

Once he finished, Stenger went back to the church for one last look. He was about to make the hardest decision of his life, and he wanted to be as close to God and the victims of the town as possible. As he looked inside his eyes caught sight of a smoke damaged crucifix nailed up in a recessed area that had escaped the brunt of the damage. The figure of Christ seemed to be looking at him silently, imploring the decision that took root in his mind. The German high command might never seek to punish the guilty, but he knew somebody who would, a champion so fierce that nothing could keep her from getting revenge.