A Fine Woman Read online

Chapter Five

  Antibes 1948

  “I suppose now would be a good time to explain how I got involved in this.”

  Sister Marie-Thérèse smiled and nodded. “It would be appropriate, Captain.”

  She had called for more tea and Captain Taylor had gratefully drunk another cup as he carried on with his story. Now he shifted his position on the chair once more.

  “Well, I landed at Green Beach with the 2nd Battalion of the 141st Infantry on the 15th August, 1944. The whole of the 36th Division was involved in the invasion of Southern France. We had been training at Salerno in Italy during July—”

  Captain Taylor paused as he saw Sister Marie-Thérèse raise her hand.

  “Green Beach?” she asked in a gentle voice.

  He smiled. “Sorry. It was a little further west from Agay. Near Cape Drammont?”

  “I see. Carry on.”

  “We landed at eight o’ clock in the morning. A couple of hours later and we had managed to secure the beachhead and were already pushing north through Agay. Our role was to secure the Cannes-Fréjus highway and make sure that the Germans couldn’t press home any attack over the mountain passes from Italy in the east. That allowed the 142nd and 143rd to head north and west.

  “Anyway, on the 17th August we met up with elements of the French Underground on the coast at Théoule-sur-Mer. It had been a pre-arranged meeting to discuss the plans that had been made before the invasion. But the meeting didn’t go as intended. Moniqué’s father was there. He had come straight from Antibes after the telegrapher at Grasse had contacted him. The telegrapher was part of the Underground and he spoke German. It was fortunate that Meyer didn’t know that. Moniqué’s father knew exactly who the Germans were after when he heard their plan to block the roads south of Mougins. But it wasn’t Helga he was worried about. André was quite high up in their organisation, and the French were worried in case he was captured. With the Germans pulling out they feared that there would be reprisals. André was also fully aware of the support the Underground had arranged to give us during the invasion. He knew the plans. So it was important to them and to us that we got him back.

  “At first I didn’t want to get involved. I had my own targets and objectives, and I pointed out that as things were going it wouldn’t matter about reprisals because the Germans wouldn’t be around. But the fact that André knew our plans was a problem. I asked if the French could handle it themselves, and they said that they couldn’t spare any men in a rescue attempt as most of them were already committed to hitting planned targets in support of the invasion, so there weren’t enough to spare to go head to head with a truck load of Waffen-SS.”

  Captain Taylor sighed. “It was then that I asked a stupid question. I asked what André was doing north of Vallauris right in the middle of the invasion. It wasn’t just bad timing; it was downright foolish. There was nothing there, no target and no reason for him to be there. That was when they told me all about Helga. And I mean all about Helga: The camps, the smuggling, her father, the spying, her code name, and why the SS wanted her.

  “Saving one German woman and a Belgian boy wasn’t on our list of objectives. And it meant getting passed Cannes. But a few of the GI’s in my troop were Jewish, and once they heard about the camps and what was going on in them, and about what Helga had been doing, why André had gone after her, and why the SS were hunting her, well,” he shrugged, “there was just no way that we weren’t going to go.”

  South of France 1944

  Captain Taylor came out of the farmhouse with Lieutenant Wellman. It was a picturesque farmhouse and the sound of the surf on the nearby beach added to the peaceful atmosphere created by the summer sun. No one would have guessed that it was a meeting place for Allied forces, and while the Americans left at the front, the French were doing so at the back. And despite his initial agreement, Captain Taylor was still uncommitted to the task he had been given. He looked at the six GI’s gathered around the parked jeeps.

  Sergeant Brannigan was the oldest and most experienced. He had dark hair and he hadn’t shaved in days. He sat in the driver’s seat of the first jeep with his foot wedged against the dashboard. There was a rifle in his lap and a chewed cigar in his mouth. He looked around at the pleasant view with a lazy air. Sat next to him was Johnson. He was just a kid. He had fair hair and wore glasses and he kept looking around nervously. He held his rifle tightly. Standing next to the jeep were Kowalski and Goodman. They were two more fair-haired kids. Bertolli was sitting in the second jeep. He was dark haired, handsome, and thought more about his love life than the war or anything else. He was the most confident even though he wasn’t the best. He also received the most letters at mail time, and they were all from women. Sitting next to him was Valdez. Like Brannigan he was an Army regular, and although he wasn’t as experienced, he was the coolest under fire.

  Eight men and two jeeps. It wasn’t much of a force against a truck-full of Waffen-SS storm troopers.

  “I still think we should let headquarters make the call on this, David,” Taylor said to Wellman as they walked towards their men. They had known each other for three years and their friendship had been born under conflict. They both knew that they could trust each other. They both also knew that what they had learned would test their friendship.

  Wellman shook his head. “It’ll be too late, and you know it.”

  “We’re only a few miles from Théoule-sur-Mer; if we go hiking into the countryside on our own the Krauts could be all over us in minutes.”

  “The Germans are pulling out, you know that. Their whole defence is crumbling and their forces are scattered all over the place.”

  “It’s fifteen miles or more. And we’ll almost have to drive through Cannes to get there.”

  “We’ll go round. We can go across country from La Napoule. We can move faster that way. We could be there in half an hour.”

  “Yeah, if we don’t run into a stray Panzer division,” Taylor pointed out.

  “Look, if we don’t go, she’s dead, along with the evidence she can give at a war trial. You heard what was said in there; the Nazi’s are killing Jews, by the thousands. And it must be true, or why else would the SS be after her?”

  “She’s with a leader in the French Underground and she’s been spying for the British.”

  “That’s just another reason to go get them.”

  “David, I know why you want to go, but it could already be too late. And I have to think about the bigger picture.”

  Wellman stared ahead. “This is the bigger picture, Robert. It’s why we’re here. You gave your word to the French in there, but if you don’t want to go, then I’ll go without you.”

  “And risk our men?”

  “Maybe we should let them decide.”

  By now they were close enough to their men for their comments to be overheard.

  Brannigan took the cigar out of his mouth. “Let us decide on what, Cap’n?” he asked with a Southern drawl.

  Taylor sighed. “Go on, Lieutenant, let them have the full story.”

  André could hear shooting ahead of him. The sound caused him to run faster. His heart fell and he ran with determination. The Germans weren’t supposed to be out here, they were supposed to be all behind him. He had been so pleased with himself over the trick with the dogs. Now it meant nothing. How did they get around him? The only answer was that there must have been two groups. Stephane, Jacob and Helga must have run into this second group. That meant that they were trapped. He had to reach them. At least they would die together.

  Meyer leaned against a tree as he fired his pistol. He waved Schneider forward, his men following as they darted from tree to tree. Each of them squirted off a quick burst from their machine guns as they ran.

  It would not be long now.

  As soon as he had seen the map, Meyer had known he would find them. All the time that the Untersturmführer and his men were chasing their tails —or more rightly, the tails of those wretched dogs— they we
re moving away from the road. And while they did that, the Countess would be heading back to it. The lost shoe had confirmed his thoughts. They had doubled back and were heading south once more. And when they reached the road they would be beyond the Untersturmführer’s original roadblock. For a moment Meyer admired her for her effort to escape. She had always been such a good adversary. But then he dismissed the thought.

  What escape could she hope for? Even if she reached the road, there would be no limousine and chauffer waiting for her. Or would there? No, there would be no other car. She had been caught and that was the end of it. And besides, there was no safe haven here or in Germany. The French would kill her in their ignorance, despite her Resistance friends. And in Germany she was a traitor, she and her father.

  Meyer suddenly realised that the game was over before it had even begun. The Countess must know her father was dead. Yes, those who had warned her would have known and they would have told her. She would already be a broken woman. Her father was dead and she was fleeing in panic for her life. Yes, she already knew she had lost. But in running away she had merely given him the final excuse he needed. In a way it was fitting. She had been a fine woman and an intelligent and resourceful opponent. He would honour that. Meyer decided at that moment that there would be no return to Germany in disgrace for the Countess. Instead he would finish it here and now. He owed her at least that.

  Next to a farmhouse a group of American soldiers were milling around two jeeps shouting at one another.

  Once the cat was well and truly out of the bag the discussion had quickly become a free for all as everyone wanted their say. And the only one of them who didn’t join in was Brannigan, who still sat in the driving seat of the first jeep chewing on his cigar. As the shouts increased and Kowalski shoved Bertolli, Captain Taylor decided enough was enough.

  “Alright! Knock it off, you guys!” he said shoving Kowalski back. “Spare it for the Krauts!”

  “Then let’s go get ‘em!” Kowalski shouted back.

  “Can it, Kowalski! The last time I looked I was still in command of this outfit!”

  Kowalski didn’t seem to think so, and Goodman looked crestfallen. “But, Captain,” he pleaded. “You can’t seriously expect us to sit here on our butts? Not when we know?”

  Taylor looked around at his men. There was silence now, and the look in all their eyes broke his resolve. But he didn’t want to give in. He felt like he was going against his orders, and for an instant he didn’t know what to do or say. And then Brannigan took the cigar out of his mouth.

  “Cap’n, it seems to me that a truck load of Krauts headin’ south could pose a threat to communications. What if they camped out on the road to Cannes? They could shoot up passing traffic, be a right pain in the butt. Seems to me that someone should sort ‘em out. It wouldn’t be like disobeying orders, the road’s our business, right?”

  All the other soldiers nodded and voiced their agreement. They looked at Taylor with renewed hope. Taylor made a snap decision.

  “Alright! But this is a quick in and out operation! Let’s keep it simple! When we get there we fan out and make as much noise as possible! I want the Krauts to think the whole damn Division is in those woods! And keep the jeeps moving at high revs! Kowalski! Valdez! You’re with Brannigan and me in the first jeep! Johnson! Bertolli! Goodman! You’re with the Lieutenant in the second jeep! Move out!”

  They were already clambering aboard the two jeeps with a whoop of delight before he had even finished. There was an eagerness in them that he hadn’t seen since they landed. This was a mission they had a particular interest in.

  Jacob ran with tears in his eyes. He knew they wouldn’t escape now. But he didn’t care for himself. He had done what he could, and he would face God with a clear conscience. But he worried about Moniqué. He didn’t want to think of her crying. And he worried about the Countess. But he knew she wouldn’t cry, at least not on the outside. She never did.

  Bullets smacked into the trees around Jacob as he ran. It caused him to duck down. They were being chased now. It was the final dash before the end. Stephane had run out of ammunition. He had thrown the machine gun aside and grabbed Helga and ran with her. For the first time she hadn’t protested. She ran barefoot, being dragged along by Stephane, her white linen coat torn by the branches that pulled at her as she went by. Jacob followed just behind them. He could see she was already tired.

  Jacob looked back as he ran. He could see the soldiers now; they were running out in the open with no fear of return fire. He could hear the clanking of their ammunition belts and the heavy impacts of their boots. He could see the grim expressions on their faces as they fired—

  With a loud crunch, Jacob ran straight into a tree. He was still looking back as he ran, mesmerised by the sight of their pursuers so close on their heels, so he hit the tree at full pelt just as the bullets did the same. He bounced off and sprawled on the ground in a shower of scattered bark, stunned and unconscious, the back of his head bloody.

  In an instant, the soldiers were upon him. One of them kicked his inert body. It was a heavy kick, but it brought no response. The soldiers ran by.

  Meyer smiled as he passed the body. He didn’t even look down. Instead he fixed his eyes on the white coat the Countess wore as it flashed between the trees ahead of him. He slowed to a halt and aimed his pistol carefully.

  “Countess! Countess! You have left someone behind!”

  The shout caused Helga to slither to a stop, Stephane’s grip on her hand briefly broken. She knew that voice, and she looked back, sudden fear on her face.

  “Jacob! Jacob?”

  Meyer squeezed the trigger on his pistol. There was a loud crack and a bright red blossom appeared above the waistband on Helga’s yellow summer dress. She was shocked by the impact, but then she staggered and lost her footing. She fell to her knees still looking surprised, a gasp passing from her lips.

  “Forgive me, father—”

  Even as Meyer smiled in triumph, machine gun fire cut down two men near him. Meyer ducked and dived behind a tree as Schneider shouted a belated warning. All the soldiers turned and fired at the unknown enemy, taking up new positions, and when Meyer looked back at Helga hoping to see her body, she was gone. A flash of white among the trees marked her departure as Stephane once more carried her still form over his shoulder. Meyer shouted new orders as he pointed to his men.

  “Scharführer! Stay here and secure the area! You! And You! Come with me!”

  Meyer gave chase, the two men following him. He had to be sure.

  André fired his machine gun at the soldiers ahead of him. The sound of the shooting was already attracting the rest of the soldiers from the road. He could hear their shouts behind him. He was in the middle. He should have sneaked away while he had the chance, they would never have found him. But then that German Officer had called out to the Countess. And when she turned André had seen him shoot her. He couldn’t do anything about it. And now all he wanted to do was get that Officer. But even in that he was to be foiled. While the soldiers pinned him down with a constant barrage, the Officer had run away with two men. Again there was nothing he could do.

  Somewhere a dog barked.

  Stephane hurried through the woods with the Countess over his shoulder. He should have abandoned her, but it wasn’t in his nature. He ran as fast as he could, but he couldn’t outpace the soldiers.

  Behind Stephane, Meyer ran almost lazily as his men darted ahead of him.

  “Bring down the oaf!” he shouted.

  The men complied by firing their machine guns.

  Stephane cried out as the bullets hit his legs. He fell and Helga was tossed aside, her body rolling in the grass.

  It was all over. Stephane lay panting, his hand to his bloody legs. He felt the soldiers standing over him. He could smell the leather of their boots. When he finally looked up, their machine guns were pointing down at him.

  Meyer put away his pistol and walked calmly up to the two fi
gures on the ground. He took off his gloves as he stood over Stephane with his men. He smiled.

  “Kill him!”

  A single rifle shot rang out and one of the men dropped to his knees before crumpling to the ground. As Meyer looked around in surprise a second shot rang out and the second soldier spun and fell into him. Meyer was knocked to the ground. He dropped his gloves and pushed aside the body of the soldier just as Stephen tried to reach for him. Meyer twisted away and scrambled to his feet. There was another rifle shot and blood splashed on Meyer’s arm. He clutched at it with his good hand, and keeping his head down, he ran.

  “Damn it, Bertolli! You missed him!” Goodman called out.

  Taylor ran passed them. “Keep moving! Valdez! Keep point on the right! Brannigan! Take the left! Wellman! Use one of the jeeps to get our wounded friends out! Let’s get this party on the road!”

  The soldiers ran forward, shouting and firing their rifles at no one in particular. Bertolli paused to throw a grenade, and the explosion was deafening.

  Stephane looked up as he was suddenly surrounded again.

  “Americans!” he breathed with a sigh.

  As Captain Taylor lead his men passed at the run, Lieutenant Wellman knelt down next to Helga. He examined her carefully. The red patch on her midriff had grown and there was a thin trickle of blood from her mouth.

  “Is this Trojan?” he asked.

  Stephane didn’t know how the American knew the Countess’s code name, it was the only word he had recognised, but he was past worrying. He nodded.

  Wellman looked up and then glanced across at Stephane’s legs. “I need to get you both back to a field hospital.” He turned and raised his voice. “Kowalski! Get the medical kit! And get Johnson up here with that jeep!”

  Rifle shots rang out and mixed with the sound of machine guns, grenades exploded and tore trees to fragments, and shouts filled the air. But the shouts were in a new language and they were backed by the sound of vehicles that blared their horns.

  By the time the Untersturmführer caught up with him, Schneider was near panic. Everyone was shooting in different directions and another man fell to a single rifle bullet.

  “What happens here, Scharführer?”

  “They are Americans! We must have crossed their lines!”

  “Where is the Obersturmführer?”

  “I don’t know!”

  The Untersturmführer swore as another grenade exploded. He waved to his men. “Fall back to the road! Fall back!”

  The soldiers didn’t need to be told a second time. They all turned and ran back the way they had came. And as Schneider made to follow them, a bullet hit him in the back. He threw up his arms and fell forward. He landed next to Jacob.

  André couldn’t understand who was firing at who. He could hear the sound of an engine, but it wasn’t the half-track. For a moment the Germans had been all around him, but now they seemed to have fallen back. And then he saw them.

  Americans.

  André stood up, and in that moment one of them almost shot him. But then an angry looking Captain ran up to him.

  “Are you André?”

  “Yes.”

  “What the Hell are you doing out here? Are you trying to get killed?”

  “The Countess—”

  “Yeah! Yeah! I know all about her!” Taylor hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s back there! My men have put her on a jeep! Now get moving! I don’t want to hang around out here long enough for those Krauts to realise that we aren’t the whole damn army!”

  “You are not the whole damn army?”

  “Hell, no! What you see is what I’ve got!”

  André looked shocked. “This way!”

  As soon as he had spoken, André began running. Taylor didn’t wait any longer either.

  “Valdez! Goodman! Bertolli! We’re pulling out! We’ve got what we wanted!”

  A horn blared and a jeep bounced over the roots from a tree as Brannigan drove over a bush and slithered to a stop next to them. The soldiers scrambled on board, Captain Taylor with them.

  “Follow that Frenchman!”

  Jacob awoke with a throbbing head. Someone was licking his face. As his eyes opened and the fog cleared from his mind, Jacob found himself being nuzzled and licked by Tirpitz and Bismarck. Both dogs were wagging their tails and were obviously excited and worked up. Jacob sat up slowly, patting Tirpitz.

  “Alright, boys, I’m awake! I’m awake!”

  Both dogs moved closer despite his protests and he had to pat and stroke them both. But then the sight of the dead German sergeant lying right in front of him brought his mind sharply into focus. Jacob got to his feet.

  “Come on, boys! Find the Countess! Find your mistress! Come on now!”

  With a flurry of barks, Tirpitz and Bismarck bounded away. Jacob chased after them.

  At first the barking of the dogs worried him. But the woods seemed to be empty. There were no soldiers anywhere. Then he heard Bismarck and Tirpitz barking even louder, and when he caught up with them, it was to find two bodies on the ground. They were German soldiers, both shot. And nearby was Helga’s white linen coat. There was blood on the coat and on the grass.

  Jacob sank to his knees as Tirpitz and Bismarck began to sniff around the bodies and at the coat. They must have caught her. They must have caught them all. Stephane had run out of bullets, so André must have killed the soldiers. That meant he had been here. They would all be dead, or captured. If the Countess were still alive they would torture her and then shoot her. As Jacob fell deeper into despair, Tirpitz and Bismarck began to play tug of war with something they found on the ground. And when they bumped into him, each growling and snarling, Jacob shouted at them and tried to take the object from them. It looked like a ragged piece of cloth.

  “Stop it! Stop it!”

  Bismarck shied away, but Tirpitz wouldn’t let go as Jacob pulled on the rag still clenched in his teeth. It ripped and Tirpitz held aloft his half of the prize in triumph.

  Jacob looked down at the piece that was left in his hand. It was a tattered piece of half of a glove.

  Tirpitz shook his half of the glove like a rat, snarling. Then he tossed it aside, barked loudly, and bounded away. With a scramble of claws in the grass, Bismarck bounded after him.

  Jacob jumped to his feet and called after them. “Wait! Stop!”

  He ran after them, but it was no use. Both dogs were running like lightening, and they were barking furiously. He soon lost sight of them.

  Meyer crept forward slowly and surely. Keeping as low as possible he was heading back the way he had came. He had tied a handkerchief around the wound on his left forearm. It hurt badly and the handkerchief was stained red, but at least it was only a graze.

  As a German Officer in the SS, Meyer knew he would be a great prize to the Americans if they captured him. It was a prize he didn’t want them to have. He was surprised and shocked to find the Allied forces so far in land already. But the news from the local SS headquarters at Fort Carré had not been good. The Americans had gained a foothold and were moving fast. If he were on the wrong side of their lines, he would have to be careful.

  With a last explosion, the noise of gunfire and shouting had slowed and stopped. But the woods were not silent. Meyer could hear dogs barking.

  The sound of those wretched dogs barking made him smile. They had obviously been left behind. Their mistress was dead and no one cared about them. Their pampered lives would be over. He wondered how long they would survive foraging in these woods.

  He was sure now that the Countess was dead. When he saw the way she fell after that French oaf had dropped her, he had known his aim had been good. The bloody patch on her dress confirmed it. And when he saw her on the ground she had looked completely lifeless.

  Meyer had just passed the burnt out wreck of the old Renault when the barking got distinctly louder. He paused for a moment. Were they looking for him? He drew his pistol from its holster and looked back. It didn’t m
atter. He would be at the road soon and the Untersturmführer and his men would soon despatch the wretched beasts. He hurried on, the barking getting louder by the second. He ran the final few steps to the road.

  “Untersturmführer! Untersturmführer!”

  Meyer came to a sudden stop in the road. The half-track was gone. So was the truck. The road was empty.

  Bismarck and Tirpitz burst out of the trees behind him. Barking and snarling madly they both leapt at him. He turned at the last instant and fired his pistol but missed. Both dogs hit him like missiles and he was bowled over.

  Fists, knees and boots competed with tooth and claw as man and dogs rolled around in the grass. Meyer still held his pistol in one hand, but Bismarck had his wrist while Tirpitz went for his throat. Meyer held Tirpitz at bay with his free hand while he kicked at both dogs with his feet. With jaws snapping only inches away he finally heaved Tirpitz aside and punched at Bismarck in the head again and again. For an instant, Bismarck released his hold and Meyer wrenched his bloody hand free and jumped to his feet. At that moment Tirpitz leapt at him again, his mouth gaping as it went for the hand holding the pistol.

  There was a gunshot and a yelp. Meyer was again felled, and this time his pistol was knocked from his grasp. But Tirpitz also fell in a heap.

  Now there was one dog, snarling and growling as it inched forward, one man, alive, bleeding but undaunted, and one Luger pistol, lying on the road between them.

  Meyer dived for the pistol and Bismarck leapt at him. Both came together close to the pistol, but with Meyer reaching for the ground his body was lower and his neck was within reach. Bismarck caught him and his teeth sank in.

  Two jeeps rushed across the fields and farmland towards La Napoule. It was the same route they had taken on their way from Théoule-sur-Mer. And as before, the only people they saw were French farmers who waved and shouted at them in joy. But this time André would shout back, and even Stephane would wave.

  The two Frenchmen were in the same jeep as Captain Taylor. The Countess was with Lieutenant Wellman in the other jeep. Both jeeps were now overloaded, and everyone hung on as they bounced over the uneven ground. The bouncing caused Stephane to moan and swear whenever they hit a larger bump. It probably wasn’t doing the Countess much good either. But at least they were all alive and they had avoided bumping into any German forces. Taylor would be happier when his wounded passengers got proper treatment. The rather basic field dressings they had might be enough for Stephane, but the Countess needed more professional help, and soon.

  André must have read his thoughts. “I know people at La Napoule!” he shouted above the sound of the jeep’s motor. “There is a small hospital there! The doctor who runs it has worked with us before! You can leave us there and be on your way!”

  “The Countess and your friend need proper treatment!” Taylor shouted back.

  “And they will get it! Do not worry, Captain! There are no Germans in La Napoule! They will be safe there! And soon even Antibes will be free again!”

  Brannigan glanced across at Taylor as he drove the jeep. And Valdez and Goodman also waited for his reply. Taylor finally nodded.

  “Alright! We’ll stop in La Napoule! But I need to contact Division and let them know what’s going on!”

  There were two bodies lying quietly and still on the road. One was that of a dog, the other was a man. Meyer lay on his back, his throat ripped out and his eyes staring. His pistol lay on the ground only inches from his hand. Nearby, Bismarck sat by his fallen brother, nuzzling him and whimpering. Tirpitz made no response. The bullet had entered through his gaping mouth and had passed through his head. With a final growl and yap, Bismarck turned and bounded away.