The Farmer's Daughter (14 page)

‘What is it, Karl? What's the matter?'

‘I have had a letter at last …'

‘From Heidi?'

‘No, from my mother. She tells me they are well, but much of her letter was blacked out by the censor, so I could not read it.'

‘But at least it's news. They are OK and they know where you are.'

‘Yes, but there was more. Heidi is married.' He spoke flatly. ‘She has married a Gestapo officer in Berlin.'

‘Oh, Karl, I am so sorry.' She reached over to put a hand on his arm. ‘I don't know what to say.'

‘Don't say anything. I have been half expecting something like it.'

‘Even so, it must be a dreadful shock. All that waiting and hoping …'

‘And now the hope is gone.' He reached in his breast pocket and took out the well-thumbed snapshot of Heidi. He looked at it for a moment, then tore it into tiny shreds, letting the pieces drift from his hand.

She watched the wind take them across the field until they faded from sight. ‘Oh, Karl, I am so sorry.'

‘Please, let us not speak of it again.'

‘Very well, but if you want to talk, I'll listen.'

‘There is nothing else to say.'

She thought he was more hurt than he liked to admit, but there was nothing she could do about it, except sympathise and try to take his mind off it.

Karl at last learnt from Major Richter what all the preparations were about and they filled him with foreboding. ‘The time has come,' he had told him that evening while they made their way across the compound to the latrines. No one said anything important in the buildings; they knew they were bugged. ‘We are going to take over the camp.'

‘Who is “we”?'

‘The company of volunteers I have selected. On Friday, we will rush the guards after morning roll call and seize their weapons. They will be held in the guardroom, while the weapons store is raided. With these we will break out of the camp.'

‘Armed?' That worried him.

‘Of course.'

‘How many?'

‘All but the most weak-hearted, the cowards and the English-lovers.'

‘How many do you expect to reach home and safety?'

‘Every single one.' Hans had grinned at him. ‘But not yet. We have other work to do before that. Every camp up and down the country has plans to break out. It is being timed with a counteroffensive in the Ardennes. We must gather more weapons, transport, tanks if we can find them, machines guns, artillery with carriers …

‘After we have broken out we will meet up with others, coming down from the north and west, and march on to London. So many Allied troops have been sent to the front line, the city is largely undefended. The Führer has promised a mass parachute drop to support us. The swastika will fly over Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament. Without a government the enemy will collapse.'

‘
Gott in Himmel!
How do you know all this?'

‘It has been planned for some time.'

‘Before you were captured?'

‘Before I allowed myself to be captured.'

‘You are mad.'

‘Not mad, my friend – inspired. It can be done. Are you with us?'

Karl had thought it expedient to agree, if only to find out more. ‘What do you want of me?'

‘When your transport reaches your place of work on Friday – what is it called – Briar Rose Farm?' Karl nodded. ‘You will disarm and dispatch the escort. You will then enter the farmhouse and find money, civilian clothes and food. If anyone offers resistance, you know what to do. When you've got that, take their vehicle and pick me up at the crossroads where the village road meets the main road from Wisbech.'

‘What about the other men in the transport?'

‘They will not be your usual companions, except Otto Herzig who has reconnoitred the way, but hand-picked men, ready to do their duty. We will drive to Cambridge and join up with others from camps round there. Together we march south, collecting more men on the way. By the time we reach London we will be a formidable army, more than a match for those decrepit troops, left behind to take care of their country.' The man was so pleased with himself he was laughing. ‘Oh, what a panic we will cause. The enemy will not know which way to turn.'

‘You will meet resistance.'

‘Bah, nothing to speak of and we will be able to deal with it.' He laughed. ‘They will be wishing they had not disbanded the Home Guard.'

Karl, hosing down the yard the next day, could think of nothing else. Jean was looking at him in puzzlement, but he could not respond to her questioning expression. He had too much on his mind. One half of him applauded the daring of the plan and wished it would succeed, the other knew it was madness borne of desperation. His own orders – and he had been left in no doubt they were orders to be obeyed – worried him more than a little. Dispatch the escort and driver meant shoot them. On a battlefield he would have had no compunction about doing that, but in England, as a prisoner
of war with every man's hand against them? He had been right to call it madness.

Worst of all were his instructions regarding Jean and the Coleman family. How could he repay her kindness with treachery like that? His refusal to do so when Otto had tried to escape and the punishment he received for it, paled into insignificance. He might well lose his life over it.

Jean turned off the tap and the jet of water dribbled to a halt. ‘Karl, what's the matter?'

‘Nothing.'

‘I know there is. I can tell by the grim look on your face. They are not moving you away, are they?'

He was tempted to say yes, that was it, but if he refused to board the lorry tomorrow Richter would only send someone else. He took a deep breath. ‘Tomorrow I may not come to work. I think there will be an extra roll call and a search of the huts.'

‘Oh, no, not another escape attempt.'

‘I cannot say. But please, when the transport comes in the morning, do not come out to meet it. Stay inside and lock all the doors and windows. If I am there and ask to come in, do not admit me.'

‘I don't understand you. What is going to happen?'

‘I cannot tell you.'

‘Karl, you are scaring me.'

‘I am sorry. I do not wish to frighten you, but please do as I ask, for everyone's sake. Perhaps you will see me again and perhaps you will not.' He dropped the hose and took both her hands in his and searched her face. ‘Try not to think badly of me.'

‘It sounds as if you are saying goodbye.'

‘Perhaps I am. I do not know. It is out of my hands.' He turned his head as a lorry drew up at the end of the drive. ‘There is my
transport.' He raised her hands one by one to his lips and left her.

Afraid and miserable, she coiled the hose and hung it over the tap, then went back indoors, deep in thought. Something was going to happen with the POWs, something big enough for Karl to try and warn her. She knew the ways of the prisoners well enough to know that if his fellows learnt he had warned her he would be punished as he had been before. But he
had
warned her, so what was she to do?

Her mother was preparing the evening meal. Her father sat in his chair by the kitchen fire, simply staring at the flames. He hardly read the newspapers nowadays and only glanced at his
Farmers Weekly
. Poor Pa, he was so helpless and not improving and though she had done her best to keep the farm running smoothly, she knew she fell far short of his high standards. He would be glad to hand over to Gordon. After more than five years of war, her mother, too, was feeling the strain. Everyone, all over the world, wanted peace.

‘Sit down, Mum,' she said, taking the paring knife from her mother to finish peeling the potatoes. ‘I'll do this.' She put the potatoes on the stove and sat down at the table, drawing her mother down beside her. ‘Mum, Karl just told me something very worrying. He warned me to keep all the doors and windows locked and not to answer the door if he arrives tomorrow. But he might not come.'

‘What did he mean?'

‘I don't know. I think perhaps some of the prisoners are going to try and escape.'

‘What, again? They'll be caught like they were last time.'

‘Yes, but why would he tell me not to let him in? I think he's being forced to go along with them.'

‘Forced?'

‘Yes, I am sure of it. He seemed agitated and upset …'

‘Jean, you had better ring Colonel Williamson. Do it now.'

Colonel Williamson had gone to London for a meeting, she was told by the sergeant who answered her call, but he would tell him the minute he returned. In the meantime he would keep a sharp lookout for trouble brewing. He thanked her and she rang off and went to the cottage to fetch her grandmother. ‘I don't know what it's about,' she told her, ‘but you'll be safer with us if anything does happen.'

‘Secret information has come from a reliable source,' Colonel Alexander Scotland told the camp commandants who were gathered at the house in Kensington Palace Gardens, referred to by everyone as the ‘London Cage'. It was said he knew more about the German army than its own generals. ‘The German POWs are planning something big. We can't be sure exactly what they have in mind, but intelligence suggests a mass breakout. We think it is connected with what is happening on the Continent. Hitler has asked for volunteers for a special mission. They are required to speak perfect English.'

One of his listeners laughed. ‘Is he thinking of invading Britain?'

‘Perhaps not as far-fetched as that,' the colonel said, smiling. ‘But there are a quarter of a million prisoners on UK soil and they could cause a helluva lot of trouble one way or another. The German high command might think we would have to pull troops from the fighting in France to deal with them.'

‘So, that's what that earlier breakout was in aid of,' Colonel
Williamson said. ‘I couldn't make out why they didn't venture far from the camp and allowed themselves to be recaptured so easily. One of them even strolled back to the camp the same evening and gave himself up.'

‘That happened to us, too,' another put in and it soon became apparent that they were not the only ones.

‘How the hell do they communicate with each other?' Colonel Upton asked.

‘They may have found a way, but I think it more likely they communicate with Berlin by radio and Berlin issues the orders the same way,' Colonel Scotland told him. ‘No doubt some of the more recent prisoners have come ready primed.'

‘What has that to do with speaking English?' someone else had asked.

‘We are not sure, but there have been a lot of instances of Germans dressed as American officers, driving American jeeps, countermanding orders and issuing new ones. It's causing havoc in the American lines and they are arresting perfectly innocent officers even when they know the passwords. It is all a prelude to something.'

‘Trust Jerry to come up with something diabolical like that.'

‘Naturally, we do not want the general public to know anything about this, so keep it under wraps, but keep on your toes, increase your surveillance. Let us know of any unusual activity in your camps, anything at all. Talk to your moles, find out what they know.'

A general discussion followed, as everyone exchanged news about their own situation and made suggestions for dealing with an outbreak. It was very late by the time the meeting broke up and Colonel Williamson was able to go for his train. He was tempted to stay in town overnight, but what he had learnt made him
decide to catch the last train back to Wisbech. If there was trouble brewing he ought to be at the camp.

Halfway to Cambridge, the train was shunted into a siding while a series of armament trains went through bound for Southampton, and the passengers were left shivering for hours. He could not find a taxi when he finally arrived at Wisbech and, cursing, he found a telephone box and rang the camp for someone to fetch him.

It was three in the morning when he finally arrived. All was quiet. The guard on the gate told him everything was normal, roll call had gone through without any disruption and the men were all locked in their huts, safe and sound. Thoroughly relieved and very tired, he did not go into his office but went home to bed.

Roll call took longer than usual the next morning. There was an air of suppressed excitement as people dodged about making counting difficult. No attempt was made to tackle the guards and Karl wondered if the idea of everyone breaking out was just a pipe dream on Hans Schmidt's part. They were still milling about in the compound when the lorry arrived for the outworkers and drew up at the gate. Karl walked over to it and climbed in.

‘Roll call's late today,' Corporal Donnington commented. He was not carrying his rifle; it was propped in a corner.

‘Yes. Don't know why.'

Karl sat down on the bench near the tailboard as others joined him. Major Richter had been right; they were not the usual workers. One of them was Hartmann. Last to board was Otto. He grinned at Karl but did not speak.

As they drove off, they could hear gun shots behind them, but their driver did not stop and no one spoke. The corporal, suddenly realising they had missed a turning, banged on the back of the
cab. ‘Ted, where d'you think you're off to? We're supposed to drop some of these men off at Emneth first.'

The man turned his head and the corporal gasped as he realised the driver was not Ted. He turned to the men, who were all laughing. ‘What's going on?'

The laughing stopped as Hartmann picked up the corporal's rifle and pointed it at him. Otto let down the tailboard. ‘Out,' Hartmann said, prodding him towards the back of the vehicle. Donnington shuffled forward. He was teetering on the edge when Hartmann shot him in the back. He toppled into the road.

‘
Verdammt
, Hartmann, did you have to kill him?' Karl asked.

‘Why not? A dead Englishman is the best kind and there will be plenty more before we're done. If you don't like it, you can join him.'

Karl said no more. It was not the time to protest. He wanted to be alive when they reached the farm which they soon did, directed by Otto, the only one, apart from himself, who knew where it was.

‘You know your orders, Muller?' Hartmann asked him, as they drew to a stop.

‘Yes, but these people have been kind to me. I don't want to hurt them.' Even in his own eyes this excuse sounded feeble. ‘Can't you get what you want from somewhere else?'

‘No doubt we will,' Hartmann said. ‘Everywhere we can, but you have to play your part too.'

‘Karl, it's a test of your loyalty,' Otto put in.

Every one of the dozen men was looking at him, waiting for him to respond, all bloodthirsty men who did not like being incarcerated and did not seem to care that the object of the menace was one of their own. They wanted action.

Reluctantly he jumped down and walked up to the house, aware that Hartmann was behind him with the rifle. He knocked on the door, desperately hoping Jean had heeded his warning.
‘Don't open it,
mein Liebling
,' he prayed silently.

The window above their heads opened and Jean leant out. She could hardly miss seeing Hartmann with the rifle pointed at his back. ‘Sergeant Muller, you are late for work,' she said.

‘I know.' A prod in the back from the rifle, urged him to go on. ‘If you let me in,
Fräulein
, I will explain.'

‘Certainly not. Go and get on with your work.'

He turned to Hartmann and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. Hartmann rattled the door but it was locked.

‘Tell her that if she does not obey I am going to shoot you.' He heard the click of the safety catch behind him and held his breath.

Jean disappeared and he thought she meant to obey, but she was soon back at the window with a shotgun. ‘Tell that man to leave,' she told Karl. ‘Or I will shoot him.'

The rifle which had been aimed at his back was suddenly lifted towards the window where Jean stood defiantly with her finger on the trigger. Karl couldn't let it happen. He lifted his arm, trying to knock the rifle out of Hartmann's hands. A pain shot through his side and he crumpled to the ground. He did not hear the lorry turn and drive away at speed, nor the shot that felled Hartmann. He knew nothing until he regained consciousness on the settee in the farm living room. Jean was kneeling at his side.

‘The doctor's on his way.'

He smiled and shut his eyes again.

‘What are we going to do about the man on the doorstep?' Doris asked after they had half-carried, half-dragged Karl into the sitting room and laid him on the settee. She had tried to dissuade Jean from confronting the men but Jean could be obstinate when she needed to be. ‘Is he dead?'

‘I doubt it.' Karl's warning had become clear as soon as she
saw the man with the gun, who was evidently prepared to use it. Something had to be done.

‘I rang the camp. The colonel was too busy to talk to me,' Doris said. ‘The man I spoke to seemed to be in a bit of a flap, so I rang Constable Worth. His wife said he was out chasing escaped prisoners, but she would tell him when he came in. I don't like the idea of a body on our doorstep. Pa is really agitated and the children will be home from school soon.'

They realised the German was far from dead when they heard someone start their truck and drive away, but she had no time to worry about that as Doctor Norman arrived to examine the patient.

‘All hell's let loose,' he said, as he worked. ‘Half the POWs at the camp have legged it.'

‘I shot one of them,' Jean said. ‘He got away in our farm truck.'

‘I doubt he'll get far. There's a major alert on.' He nodded towards Karl. ‘What about him?'

‘He's my farm worker,' she said. ‘Not one of them.'

‘He's got a bullet in his side. Luckily it's gone in at an angle and is not very deep, but it needs to come out. I should turn him over to the camp doctor, but I reckon he's got his hands full. I'll order an ambulance to take him to Wisbech hospital.'

‘Can't you get it out?'

‘Of course I can. I didn't serve as a medic in the last war without learning how to do that. The question is, should I?'

‘Yes, you should. It will be half an hour at least before an ambulance can get him to hospital, that's if it isn't busy elsewhere. In the meantime, he could die. Do it, please. I'll help you.'

He hesitated before answering. ‘Very well, on your head be it. I'll have to go home and fetch my instruments and some ether. Keep him calm while I'm gone. Don't let him thrash about.'

After he had gone, Jean sat on the side of the bed holding Karl's
hand, watching his laboured breathing and praying for him not to die.

Doris came into the room. ‘What's happening?'

‘Doctor Norman has gone to get his instruments and anaesthetic. He's going to take the bullet out of Karl's side.'

‘He's going to do it here?'

‘Yes. It will be safer.'

‘Safer? Who for?'

‘Karl.'

‘Sergeant Muller was one of them.'

‘No, Mum, he wasn't. He tried to warn us what would happen and because of that he was shot. That man was intent on getting into the house and he would have shot me if Karl hadn't stopped him. We owe him.'

Doris had no time to reply because Constable Worth arrived. Jean explained what had happened. ‘The ones in the lorry drove off but one of them took our pickup. It doesn't have much petrol in it, so maybe he won't get far.'

‘Right. I'll report that. We found a body in the lane. A British corporal by the look of it.'

‘Oh no! How dreadful. It must be Corporal Donnington. He was the guard on the transport. Poor, poor man, he didn't deserve that. I wonder if he has any family.'

‘It's a real bad do.' He nodded towards Karl, still deeply unconscious. ‘What do you want me to do about that one?'

‘Nothing. Doctor Norman is going to take the bullet out of him and then we'll put him to bed. Don't worry about him. He won't harm us.'

‘I'm not sure if I should allow it.'

‘Well, I
am
sure.'

‘Then I'd better get back to helping round up the others.' He settled his helmet back on his head and left them.

‘Where are we going to put him to bed?' Doris asked, after he had gone.

‘In Gordon's room. Terry can move in with Don.'

‘I'm not sure that's a good idea. It's all very well to be friendly with the man, but this is taking it too far. We could all be in trouble.'

‘Mum, it will be all right. I'm not letting Karl go back to that camp until he's fully fit.' To herself, she added, ‘And not then if I can help it.'

‘Jean, you are not becoming too fond of him, are you?'

She felt the colour rush into her face. Her mother knew, of course she did. ‘Oh, Mum, don't be silly. I like him and feel sorry for him, that's all. It would be cruel to send him back in his condition.'

‘You might not have any choice if Colonel Williamson sends for him.'

But Colonel Williamson was too busy to do anything like that. He had a major incident on his hands and it required all his attention.

What Colonel Scotland had feared had come about. He had learnt most of the plot through listening devices, interrogation and other means he was not prepared to divulge, but what he had not known was when it would take place. He had been left in no doubt when, on Friday 15th December, prisoners began breaking out from camps up and down the country, spreading themselves about the countryside and causing fear among those who lived near enough to see the efforts being made to round them up. Although the majority of the population knew nothing of it, some news leaked out that a few prisoners had escaped, but were being rapidly recaptured. People were warned to be vigilant, but that was all.

‘It's all under control,' he told Colonel Williamson over the telephone. ‘Have you contained your lot?'

‘Yes. They are all back in camp bar three. Two stole a farm truck and made off in it. I am confident they will be caught before long. The other was shot by one of his fellows and is recuperating at the farm where he's been working.'

‘That's a bit irregular, isn't it?'

‘I suppose it is, but I do not think he poses a threat.'

‘You can never tell, Charles. Get him back under lock and key until everything calms down.'

‘Very well, Colonel.'

Karl slept most of the next two days, during which time Jean sat on a chair close to his bed, leaving him only for a couple of hours' sleep. Doris and Donald milked the cows, fed the animals and collected the eggs, which had to be done; the rest of the work was neglected, she had no time for it. In vain did her mother protest that the patient did not need such constant care, that she could safely leave him for an hour or two.