Excerpt



Chapter One



It was dark. It was wet. Annette Renard was crouched in a shallow ditch on the periphery of a field close to a railway line in Brittany, France. She felt cold, damp and tired, and her left calf muscle was beginning to cramp up. She would have to move in a minute or that muscle would go solid with tension and give her unbearable pain. She glanced along the ditch to her right as though she wanted permission from someone before making a movement. Erwan Cottereau was the person she sought, a black, amorphous form lying fifteen feet from her.

It was hard to distinguish Cottereaus features through the slashing rain and the deep darkness of the November night. His black oilskin-covered body melded into the mud of the ditchs bank. His face was blackened with chimney soot, and his thinly-gloved hands held a Sten gun. He had it set for single shots of the 9-millimeter bullets it fired. Erwan sensed that Annette wanted to say something, so he slowly crawled over to her, keeping his head below the top of the ditch.

Are you all right? he said in a whisper.

Im getting a bad cramp. Ive got to move my leg; is that OK? responded Annette.

Yes, of course it is, in fact both of us can probably stand up safely. That German patrol isnt coming back, and they wont send another one out on a night like this to check the railway line, said Erwan.

They both stood up and stepped out of the ditch which was rapidly becoming water-logged. Erwan knew that Annette was feeling miserable in the foul weather, and her apparent calmness belied her nervousness. This was her very first sabotage operation as a member of the French Resistance, although she was more of an observer than an active participant. She was not even armed.

OK, Annette, youre really doing fine. Try and relax a bit. I know those krauts gave you a scare. They came close but I can guarantee that they didnt see us. If they had, wed be dead by now, said Erwan with an attempt at a calming voice.

Thanks a lot, Erwan! What the hell have you got me into? I must have been crazy to come on this caper.

This isnt a caper, as you call it. This is serious business for serious patriots who want to throw the krauts out of our country, and dont you forget it, said Erwan, whose voice had switched from being calm to containing a strain of anger.

Sorry, sorry, my liege, Im just a little bit nervous.

My liege? Whats that supposed to mean? Now come on, weve got a job to do. Were going over to the railway line to see how Marcel is progressing with the plastic explosives. Keep low and move fast, but make sure you dont trip; we cant afford a sprained or busted ankle at this point. Follow me! commanded Erwan.

They bent their bodies double and awkwardly covered the hundred yards of ground from the ditch to the embankment upon which the railway lines ran. There they crouched in-between a group of gorse bushes that gave less than meager protection from German bullets.

The bad visibility did not allow Annette and Erwan to view Marcel at work, but Erwan knew exactly what he was doing as he, himself, had laid charges before. In fact, Marcel had already completed his task and was in another thicket of gorse about thirty yards from that of Annette and Erwan.

The railway lines ran north-east and south-west, close to the small village of St. Lry which was about twenty-six miles west of Rennes. Marcel had clamped a percussion triggering device, called a fog signal, to the outside of the left rail of the track for trains running north-east up to the main line between Rennes and Brest. The trigger would activate the detonator which in turn would fire the cordtex fuse that ran to the first charge and then on to the second one. The three-quarter lb charges were about four feet apart and of the plastic explosive variety. To be exact, the plastic consisted of cyclotrimethylene-trinitrame - called RDX by the British - mixed with beeswax to give it the plasticity for easy molding into a convenient shape. With the charges placed against the left rail, and a lot of luck, the south-west track would also be destroyed and the train derailed to the left, causing blockage in both directions, and a severe headache for the Germans.

Erwan laid down his Sten gun, cupped his hands and blew gently into the small gap between his thumbs that were drawn together and parallel. The cooing sound of a dove was produced. He repeated it five times and then listened intently for a response. He tried again, but no response. The seconds ticked by. He cooed a third time.

OK, OK, I heard you. Stay where you are; Im only a few yards away, said Marcel, in a stern whisper.

I dont believe this, thought Annette; my life is in the hands of a boy scout making bird calls; its pissing with rain and Im shivering with a likely dose of pneumonia. Ive got some gorse thorns sticking in my thighs and my boots are full of water. What am I doing here? Annette extracted herself from the bushes and stood tall.

Over here, Marcel, wherever you are, she yelled. Very suddenly Marcels hot breath was in her face.

Shutup, you stupid idiot! That German patrols not long gone. It could have circled around and be only a hundred yards from us. For Gods sake use your commonsense, and dont act like an amateur.

But I am an amateur, retorted Annette, highly piqued.

Ive no time for this now, said Marcel. Listen, the charges are all set, and weve got to get back to some better cover. Theres a clump of trees on a small rise back beyond the ditch you were in.