Operation Kingfisher (19 page)

Back at the
Maquis
camp in the woods above the town, they found Luke pacing the area in a ferment of anxiety.

‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried out of my mind.’

She looked at his face and felt suddenly contrite.

‘I’m sorry. You weren’t around to tell and I had to make up my mind quickly. We’ve been to get these from Jean Claude’s friend at the garage.’

‘You’ve been into Montsauche? Are you mad?’

Cyrano had seen her arrive and joined them.

‘You could have told me, Chris. I was here and I’ve been worried, too. You really shouldn’t go off without telling someone.’

Christine scuffed the dead leaves with her toe. She regretted worrying her brother but being told off by Cyrano, even as gently as that, really hurt.

‘I’m sorry.’ She looked up. ‘But I’ve got some really important news. The Germans are in Montsauche.’

‘What? Are you sure?’

As quickly as she could, she related what had happened.

Jean Claude, who had stood by silent until then, said, ‘She was brilliant! I was too scared to go into the garage, but she didn’t turn a hair.’

Cyrano looked at her and shook his head. ‘Chris, I don’t know what to say. You shouldn’t take risks like that but … you really are an amazing girl! Well done!’

Luke was looking at her with an expression she could not quite read.

‘My God, Sis. Don’t put the wind up me like that again.… Please!’

Gregoire was still absent but Cyrano sent the young man with the motorcycle to fetch him from the
Maquis Vincent
. He listened to her story in silence and when she had finished, he nodded briefly.

‘OK. You’ve got some useful equipment and brought back some important intelligence. But in future you refer all such expeditions to me or Cyrano before you set out. Understood?’

‘Yes, Gregoire.’

He smiled. ‘Cheer up. You’ve shown initiative and a cool head. Luke, you should be proud of her.’

T
hree days passed without further excitement, then Gregoire called them together and spread out a map.

‘This is our next objective. Luke, you and Christine will be particularly interested in this. Those gunboats you saw being hauled out at Auxerre – you were quite right that they are heading for the Saône. But it’s a long, cross-country route from Auxerre to Chalon and I’ve just received some very interesting intelligence. Between Arcy-sur-Cure and Voutenay-sur-Cure, there is a road tunnel and apparently it is too narrow for those huge vessels to go through. So they have had to divert along the valley of the Yonne to Mailly, and then cut across to rejoin the main road at Voutenay.’

‘Just a minute,’ Xavier interjected. ‘That’s in the
Maquis Jean
’s neck of the woods.’

‘It’s through them that I heard about this,’ Gregoire said. ‘In order to get through the village of Avigny, the Huns had to demolish several houses, including the bar. The owners’ son was so incensed that he took himself off to the
Maquis
to tell them what was going on. Jean doesn’t have the necessary equipment or expertise to do anything useful, so he passed the word to me.’

‘So what have you got in mind?’ Xavier asked.

‘Look here at the map. Just before reaching Voutenay, the road passes through the Bois de Mailly. It is thickly forested on both sides – perfect for an ambush.’

‘Marvellous!’ Xavier said. ‘We can blow them all to kingdom come.’

‘Not quite, I’m afraid. The convoy will be very heavily guarded
and we should be very foolish to try a pitched battle and we don’t have enough explosive to be sure of causing real damage. What we can do is bring them to a halt and then call in the heavy mob, in the shape of the RAF.’ He paused and regarded the bemused expressions on the faces of the men around him with a grin. ‘Cyrano and I have been hatching a little plot. He has already been on to London and they have agreed to have planes standing by. By my reckoning, the distance from the airfields on the south coast of England to Voutenay is roughly three hundred miles. A Mosquito fighter/bomber can cruise at 300 mph easily, more if necessary. From Avigny to Voutenay is eight kilometres and my informant tells me that the convoys can only average about five kilometres per hour. So this is the plan: we create some kind of obstacle that will stop them before they get into Voutenay. As soon as a convoy passes through Avigny, the boy from the bar will telephone Father Martin, the curé at Montsauche. Cyrano will be set up ready to transmit from the church tower and at his signal, the Mossies will be scrambled. If everything goes according to plan, they should arrive just about the time the convoy reaches our barricade. It won’t be easy for the pilots to spot it under all that tree cover, but I can talk them in with the S-phone. Any questions?’

‘Won’t it be dangerous for Cyrano to transmit from the church, now the Germans are in Montsauche?’

The men turned to look at Christine with expressions of irritation, but Gregoire nodded. ‘It’s not ideal, but as far as we can ascertain, the
Boche
do not have radio detection vehicles in the area at the moment. And the message will be very short. Just a single code word.’

‘When is all this going to happen?’ Xavier asked.

‘I’m told one convoy goes through every day, so we’ll plan for the day after tomorrow. We’ll need to reconnoitre the area to decide the best approach, so I plan to leave tomorrow morning. It will take several hours to get there. I’ll take four of your men, Xavier, plus Jules and Fernand,’ with a nod towards his two inseparable bodyguards.

‘Only four!’ Xavier exclaimed. ‘Surely you need more men than that.’

‘Not for what I have in mind. So can I have four volunteers?’

Hands went up all round the group. Luke put his up too, in a desperate effort to attract the leader’s attention. Gregoire looked around and indicated four men, then just as Luke was about to drop his hand in defeat, he said, ‘All right. You can come along, too, Luke.’ Overriding the murmur of disappointment from the rest he went on, ‘There are two more important jobs. We have been promised another
parachutage
but we need to find a more convenient DZ; somewhere we can get transport in to remove the containers instead of having to open them and carry back the contents piecemeal. Xavier, can you and some of your men scout for somewhere suitable? You know what’s needed, a reasonably open area, not too close to any villages but accessible by some form of wheeled transport.’ Xavier nodded. ‘And finally,’ Gregoire went on, ‘we need someone to go down and check out the situation in Montsauche. Are the Germans still there and in what strength and for what purpose? Do we have any informants in the town, Xavier?’

‘Plenty,’ Xavier replied. ‘It’s just a matter of contacting them.’

Christine raised her hand eagerly. ‘I could do that.’

Gregoire shook his head. ‘No, you have taken enough risks already.’

‘But I’ve been thinking,’ she hurried on before he could turn to other things. ‘Xavier’s men can’t show their faces while the Germans are there, because any young men who have not been sent on STO are liable to be stopped and questioned. But that wouldn’t apply to a woman, or a girl. I could walk around town without anyone taking any notice at all.’

He looked at her with a frown. ‘Well, you have a point … but you would need to look … to blend in with the locals. Local girls don’t dress like that.’

‘No, I know. If I could get hold of a skirt somehow.…’

‘I’m sure that can be arranged,’ Cyrano said.

‘I don’t want to wear stuff belonging to that girl at the Beau Rivage,’ Christine said hastily. Then, when they both looked at her in surprise, she added, ‘They wouldn’t fit. She’s much bigger than I am.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of her,’ Cyrano said. ‘You remember I told you I was trying to arrange some private pupils for music lessons? Well, one of them is the daughter of Madame de Labrier, who owns the
château
at Lantilly. Her name is Colette and I’d guess she is about the same size as you. They are already supporters, so I’m sure they would be prepared to help.’

‘Oh, right,’ Christine said, embarrassed by her outburst. ‘That sounds fine.’

‘I could take her over this afternoon,’ Cyrano suggested. ‘Now my ankle is strong enough for me to drive, I want to get to know the area better. I can drop Christine outside Montsauche on the way back and then pick her up again.’

‘OK. But no heroics, Christine, understand? Xavier will tell you whom to contact. It shouldn’t be difficult to find someone who can tell us what we need to know. Everyone will have been asking the same questions. Then you come straight back here. OK?’

‘OK.’ Christine sat back.

As the meeting broke up, Luke drew her aside. ‘Chris, I wish you wouldn’t.’

‘Wouldn’t what?’

‘Volunteer yourself for jobs like that.’

‘You’ve just volunteered yourself for something much more dangerous,’ she pointed out.

‘I know, but.…’

‘But what?’

‘I feel responsible. Well, I am responsible.’

‘We’re responsible for each other,’ she said, with sudden warmth. ‘But that doesn’t mean we can sit back and let other people do all the dangerous things. And don’t tell me it’s different because I’m a girl. It’s being a girl that makes it less dangerous. You do see that, don’t you?’

He sighed. ‘I suppose so. But do take care.’

‘I could say the same to you. We must both be as careful as we can, under the circumstances.’

The sabotage contingent set off the following morning in two cars. Gregoire led the way in the Mercedes, with Luke, and his two bodyguards, and the four men he had chosen followed in the most serviceable of the two Peugeots. Loaded into the boots of the two vehicles, was a quantity of plastic explosive and a selection of connecting wires and time pencils. Luke was uncomfortably aware that if they were to be stopped and searched, there was no chance that they could pass themselves off as innocent farmers. They headed north, along forest tracks or narrow lanes until they saw the great cathedral of Vezelay towering above them on its hilltop. Here, they had to cross the main road to Avallon, which was in regular use by German patrols. Gregoire stopped the car and went forward on foot. He stood for a moment, peering in either direction, then at his signal Fernand accelerated forward and slowed just enough for Gregoire to jump aboard.

‘Turn right! We’ve got a kilometre to cover before we can turn off again. Put your foot down!’

At top speed, the Mercedes roared along the road. Looking back, Luke saw the Peugeot struggling to keep up. Mercifully, the road was deserted, but he felt as if he was holding his breath until they swerved left into a narrow lane no wider than a cart track and, with a whine of gears the Peugeot swung in behind them.

In the woods outside the tiny village of Blannay, they were flagged down by three bearded men, who identified themselves as Jean and two of his
Maquis
.

‘A convoy went through just after dawn today,’ Jean told them. ‘They seem to keep to a pretty regular schedule and we know there is another one on its way, so you can expect it about the same time tomorrow.’

‘Ideal!’ said Gregoire. ‘Jump in. You can show us the way.’

A few miles further on, they found themselves looking down on
a narrow road winding through the forest. They left the cars parked in the shelter of the trees, guarded by two of Jean’s men, and worked along the hillside from one vantage point to another while Gregoire studied the road through his field glasses.

‘That’s our best bet,’ he said eventually. ‘See that line of tall poplars where the road leaves the forest? If we can bring them down it will take the
Boche
quite a long time to clear them all.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘There’s nothing more we can do now until dark. We may as well go back to the cars and relax for a while. We shan’t get much sleep tonight.’

Several miles to the south, Cyrano, with Christine sitting beside him, drove up to the front of the
château
of Lentilly. It was typical of its type, with an elegant grey stone façade topped by pointed towers at each end, surrounded by a moat and set in a formal garden, which now showed signs of neglect.

‘M. de Labrier was killed in the fighting before France capitulated,’ Cyrano explained. ‘Madame has never forgiven the Vichy government for giving in and rendering his sacrifice useless. That’s why she is a fervent supporter of the resistance. Come along, I’ll introduce you.’

They found Madame de Labrier in a salon decorated with silk wallpaper and Louis Quinze furniture, but she herself presented a much more down-to-earth image, dressed in rather shabby tweeds and carrying a pair of secateurs.

‘M. Cyrano! We were not expecting you. Forgive my appearance. I was busy pruning the roses. Have you come to give Colette a lesson?’

‘No, Madame. We have come to ask for your assistance.’

Without going into details about Christine’s background, he explained that she had been forced to leave her own clothes behind and was in need of the loan of something more suitable than her current attire. ‘I think Colette is very much the same build as she is,’ he concluded. ‘I wondered if she might be able to help.’

‘Of course!’ was the immediate response. ‘I will call her. I’m sure we can find something that will do very well.’

At her mother’s summons, a slim, dark-haired girl appeared from the garden and Christine was introduced. When the problem was explained to her she caught hold of her hand.

‘You poor thing! It must be horrible to lose everything like that. Come upstairs. I’m sure I’ve got things that will fit you perfectly.’

In her bedroom, she pulled open a wardrobe.

‘I haven’t got anything very up-to-date, I’m afraid. With clothes rationing, it’s impossible to keep up with fashion. But you’re welcome to anything you like.’

‘I don’t need anything fashionable,’ Christine said. ‘I just want to look … well, ordinary. So no one will notice me.’

‘Oh?’ Colette looked puzzled for a moment. Then she said, ‘Of course. You’re with the
Maquis
. I should have realized when Cyrano brought you here. How brave of you! Well, let’s see what we can find.’

It was obvious that before the war and the advent of clothes rationing, Colette had acquired an extensive wardrobe and she pulled out garment after garment, laying them out on the bed for Christine to examine. It took a little persuasion to make her understand that most of her offerings were too good, too expensive looking, to serve the purpose; but eventually they settled on a simple blue pinafore dress with a white blouse and a grey and green plaid skirt with a dark green blouse. She put on the dress and Colette exclaimed:

‘Oh, it suits you! You look better in it than I ever did. Now, what about shoes? It’s too warm for those boots now.’

Christine’s feet were larger than hers, but a search produced a well-worn pair of sandals that could be adjusted to fit; and Colette insisted on providing her with underclothes and ankle socks as well. Eventually, feeling unusually self-conscious, she made her way downstairs to where Cyrano was waiting with Mme de Labrier. She saw his eyes widen as she appeared.

‘Well, look at you! You look great!’ He took her hand and spun
her round, laughing, and she found herself responding with the kind of girlish giggles she would have despised in anyone else.

In the hall on the way out, she had a sudden thought.

‘Madame, do you have a shopping basket I could borrow?’

The basket was quickly forthcoming and with it, a small handbag.

‘You must have something to carry your money in, and your papers and your ration card,’ Madame pointed out.

Christine transferred the items from the pockets of her dungarees and, on reflection, left her penknife and the other bits and pieces she had carried with her since she left home where they were. They hardly fitted with the new image she wanted to present, and there was always the possibility of being searched.

Back in the car, Cyrano said, ‘Do you have any money? If you are going to go shopping you will need some.’