Cold Lonely Courage (Madeleine toche Series Book 2) (20 page)

Bullets slammed into their sandbagged position from all directions. John tossed his two grenades towards the German line to their right and left. The air was charged with the overwhelming odor of gunpowder and explosives. The air was a mixture of heavy smoke and dirt that hung dispersed like a screen over the battlefield. Men were dying and screaming all around them as they fought for their lives.

In rapid succession two German stick grenades, called potato mashers after their shape, landed behind John. Madeleine was on each instantly, flinging them back at the Germans one after the other. John was amazed at her presence of mind and cool demeanor under fire. There was more fight in her than a squad of men, he thought. While he poured bullets into the enemy, Madeleine conserved her ammunition, exposing herself to fire for the briefest instant while she mechanically and unerringly killed each target. It was a frightening thing to see, a raw display of discipline and sheer guts under fire. It was like watching a marksman plink ducks in the shooting gallery back at the Patience County Fair. Together they were pure warriors without fear or caution. They fought flat out.

Suddenly John ducked down and tore off his paratrooper jacket. He tossed it so that it laid over the front of the nest.

“Flash!” He heard yelled from the edge of the trees nearby. How he heard it over the crash of gunfire and explosions he didn’t know.

“Thunder!” He yelled over and over bringing the machine gun to bear again on both flanks. He fired relentlessly as American paratroopers tore out of the woods into the field. Madeleine and he had created a weak point in the line and he could see flashes of American uniforms from behind trees and brushes. Without warning two men threw themselves into his fox hole and joined Madeleine firing from behind. Even in the heat of battle the two men were shocked to see a stunningly beautiful woman firing into the enemy and killing them right and left. They joined in her fire and poured it onto the enemy position.

Soon other soldiers moved up as the German line retreated. Madeleine heard the metal upon metal squeak of tank tracks and saw the American star on the side of several tanks crashing ahead of the advancing soldiers. Madeleine slid down to the bottom of the trench as the firing moved away and the Germans retreated.

“Welcome to France,” she breathed heavily as she reached out to accept a cigarette from John.

“Nice welcome. Is everyone here as hospitable as you?” one of the other soldiers laughed.

“Not to Germans, they’ve been here long enough.” She stood up and moved away from the trench and past the astonished faces of American soldiers as they ran past her towards the fighting.

“Hey buddy, who the hell is that? French Resistance?” The second soldier asked.

“Nope, British Intelligence,” John said, clearly enjoying his chance to shock the two men. He smiled as he looked at the incredulous expression on the men’s faces. He stood up and wiped the sweat and dirt from his eyes as he caught up to Madeleine.

“Last thing I remember was flying through the air,” Madeleine said putting her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“We’re even on that score. You were great back there. I would pick you every time over three good men. I thought we were done for.”

“We have the singular distinction of having two enemies fire on us at once,” Madeleine said.

“I think we should try to avoid that in the future.”

“Yes John, I think we should.”

.

CHAPTER
FIFTY-TWO

“Teach, you’re familiar with Caen. What’s our best plan for deployment along these sectors?” General Montgomery asked Jack as several men stood around a map table hastily set up not far from the front as British armor rolled towards Caen. They stood inside a large canvas tent that served as the British temporary command center.

“There’s high ground towards the back that we have to take quickly, sir. We don’t want this thing to turn into a siege. We know we have
Panzer
resistance and my latest reports tell me that in addition to determined infantry, we are up against the
Das Reich
division. They have a solid reputation for nastiness, sir. They barely got away from the Russian front, and then only in pieces. Things became very unholy there, sir. They will make us pay for every inch we get.”

Montgomery listened carefully as Teach spoke. It was clear that Jack knew what he was talking about. Montgomery was either loved or hated by the various Allied commanders, but he was always respected. He had bravado and courage that inspired his men. This too was his second war, too, having seen significant action during the last war during which he was so severely wounded that a detail dug his grave in anticipation of his death. ‘Monty’ was credited for expelling the Axis armies from North Africa and was more than happy to face Rommel, his old nemesis, once again.

Jack stepped away from the table as Montgomery left to take a phone call. Jack pushed aside the tent flap and lit a cigarette, looking south as he often did when he thought of Madeleine. There had been no contact except a US military inquiry that had gone through channels requesting information for a field operative. It wasn’t highly classified. It simply requested the last known position of
Das Reich,
the same division that waited for them near Caen. There had been some reports of massive retaliation against the Resistance by the SS. But what would the Americans have to do with that?

Jack had been informed personally about the tragedies at Oradour sur Glane and Tuelle. He was confident that Madeleine wouldn’t have been in either place and certainly wouldn’t have waited around for capture. Other agents hadn’t fared as well. He had received news that Violet Szabo had been captured and sent to a concentration camp. The Resistance had dealt with the Germans responsible in a messy, stupid way. Many mistakes had occurred, on both sides. The German defenses, however fierce, were disorganized and the command structure in some disarray. He could only surmise that Berlin was interfering and frustrating the ability of her commanders on the ground to make quick and effective decisions.

It was well into July, and Montgomery, along with his detractors, thought they should have secured Caen long before now. Teach was frustrated with the lack of progress but several factors including the weather and the ferocity of German Resistance had delayed things. To him, every inch of French soil liberated meant that Madeleine would soon be out of a job. SOE was now assisting with intelligence and ground experience wherever it was useful. For his part Jack had been redeployed to Montgomery’s staff. He couldn’t have asked for a better posting and was told that he had earned it. He would experience firsthand the victory England so richly deserved. In addition he had spent a great deal of time in occupied France and knew these areas intimately.

Jack dropped his cigarette and ground it out under his boot. He pushed his thoughts of Madeleine as far back in his mind as possible. He had to concentrate. His personal life would have to wait just as it did for so many other men and women on both sides. The Germans weren’t going to hand Caen over with their compliments. Yet, who knows? He smiled, thinking maybe it was Madeleine coming at them from the other direction. Somebody was in for one hell of a surprise if she was after them. A couple of passing soldiers gave him an odd look as he chuckled out loud at the absurdity of the notion.

.

CHAPTER
FIFTY-THREE

Madeleine and John sat across from one another in a mess tent just a few hours after breaking through to the American lines. She relished the strong black coffee and the endless stream of cigarettes and complimentary looks the young American soldiers gave her. John watched all of the attention with a crooked smile on the side of his mouth. If they only knew, he thought. She flirted a little with the men. They were mostly boys like him from farm families or hardworking city dwellers. They had all lived through the depression and many of their families had barely scraped through. They were used to hard work and treated women with deference, glad to share a few moments in the company of a woman as beautiful as she. Madeleine kept them at bay, letting slip that her boyfriend was an officer in the British Military fighting on the same front.

After they rested, John introduced Madeleine to his company commander. He had developed a rapport with the officer and told him the full story including Madeleine’s attachment with British military intelligence. The commander raised his eyebrows more than once when John described the way she dispatched the SS soldiers intending to rape the French girl they had encountered.

“SOE, Toche? Tough as nails, the SOE I’ve heard of,” Captain Franklin said as if stating a fact cast in stone. Whatever you need, give me the word. I’ve already lost too many good men to these SS bastards. Go kill all of their God damn officers for me!”

“With pleasure, Captain. Thank you for your service to France.”

Madeleine had said the magic words. Franklin saluted her, a look of stoic pride spreading on his face. He turned and walked out of the mess tent.

“That, John, is a soldier. I already know without asking, he would lead every attack if he could.”

“And then some,” John answered.

Captain Franklin contacted division headquarters to determine the intelligence on
Das Reich.
Word had come shortly thereafter that the
Panzer
division was reinforcing Caen against Montgomery. The inquiry was fairly routine. The location of the enemy was pretty common knowledge. The enemy was everywhere the Allies wanted to go.

“John, I need one more favor from you before I leave,” Madeleine asked.

“Anything, Madeleine,” John answered, suddenly remembering that she had to leave. He felt genuinely sorry to see her go.

“I need a sniper rifle and some ammunition for it. A case to transport it in would be nice. I could wait for one from England but that will take too long.”

“I’ll find you one on one condition.”

“What?”

“Write to me later on after you get home. I get letters from home, but they’re few and far between.”

“Only if you write to me,” Madeleine said, smiling.

John left the tent and found Captain Franklin going over some requisition forms near the supply tent.

“Sir, I need to find a sniper rifle for the field agent.”

“Go back to ordinance and have one issued on my orders. Just make sure there’s no damn paperwork. I see one more damn requisition form and I will take a unit and go commandeer what we need myself,” Captain Franklin said, only partially joking.

“That’s it, sir?” John said with some surprise.

“You are a hell of a soldier, Trunce. I take for granted what you told me about the SOE agent is true. She is a damn killer. It would be far better to have her out there doing her job than on a boat back to England. Quite frankly, I don’t think she’s going back until whatever job she has left to do is finished. By the way, sergeant Trunce, I need a new lieutenant around here. You’re hired.” He strode forward and pinned the lieutenant’s bars on Trunce before he could utter a word. “By the way, that’s part of the deal too, Trunce, you keep those bars or no rifle. Now get going. I have work to do.”

John turned and left before his Captain could change his mind. Jesus, that man was rough and tumble. He was an inspiring leader. Things were a little different in the Airborne. The man just made a decision and didn’t agonize over it. There was something to be learned from that and John intended to.

John found Madeleine packing a sack with a couple of canteens and food rations she’d rounded up.

“With the compliments of the 82
^nd
Airborne,” John said handing over the sniper rifle.

“New shiny bars, John?” Madeleine teased, touching his lapel, accidentally brushing against him for a moment.

“I keep the bars, you get the rifle,” John said, stepping back slightly and turning his head so that she couldn’t see him blush. It’s going to take some getting used to having a friend and combat buddy that looks like she does, he thought.

If Madeleine noticed she didn’t let on. She hefted the rifle and walked a few paces to a small table. She expertly detached the telescopic sight. Next she broke the rifle down to its constituent parts and then reassembled it in a series of fluid exacting motions. A couple of paratroopers off to the side watched her, their mouths open in surprise.

“I guess I don’t have to ask you if you know how to shoot one of those,” John said smiling.

“No, I was trained by the best. I am better at close range with a light pistol but I’ll need a bit more persuasion than that. There is an agent I know of who is much better than I with any weapon. She is the best shot in the SOE, a British girl not much older than I am. Of course the best snipers in the world are women. There are hundreds of female snipers in the Red Army. Some have more than two hundred kills. I have that from an infallible source, the man who trained me.”

“He must be a formidable man.”

“Oddly enough, a German Jew. He was a German war hero in the first war. They rewarded him by throwing his family into a concentration camp and trying to do the same to him.”

“He escaped, I take it.”

“He killed many of his countrymen doing it. He is a lost soul and the most dangerous man either of us is likely to ever know. I feel sorry for him. When the war is over he’ll have nowhere to go and probably no one to go home to.”

“War isn’t just armies and battles, is it, Madeleine?”

“No, John, it’s about politics, power, and the elite. It is about people like you and me torn from our loved ones and our lives when all we want to do is live a good life. That’s all I want. I want a husband who loves me, some children and a little restaurant to call home.”

Madeleine picked up the rifle and her bag.

“You keep your head down, John. We will meet again some sunny day
en Provence
!” Madeleine said with a flourish and walked out of the tent.

John waited a moment, not wanting to follow her like some puppy dog. But finally he couldn’t help but step out and look for her. It had only been a couple of minutes but she had vanished into the wind.

“The British will be coming again soon, Major Diekmann,” Lieutenant Boche said, looking through field glasses at the preparations the British were making below in the lower part of the city of Caen. The town had seen fierce fighting as the Germans tried to hold onto it. Diekmann and his men were dug in on the high ground on the far side of the town. Its strategic importance was too great to abandon it to the Allied advance. His orders were “to die in Caen”. When the German High Command regrouped for a counter attack a major crossroads like Caen would be of vital importance. It represented one of many stepping-stones to Paris and, ultimately, the heart of Germany.

“Let them come. We’ll show them more of the same. We have more armor arriving and will give them a nasty surprise, Diekmann answered.

“How was Paris?” Boche said casually, not taking his eyes from the glasses.

“You mean the obligatory inquiry? Nothing much happened. Nothing will ever happen. Everything is tied to the outcome of the war and they weren’t about to pull a field commander from the front. The General intervened as well, I am sure. Perhaps they realize that if we have any chance in this war that we must show no mercy. The Fuhrer has rockets falling on London and there are new weapons being deployed. There are only war crimes trials for the conquered. I appreciate your being unavailable for the inquiry.”

“I’m glad, Major. Those people were terrorists and terrorist sympathizers.”

“Well, I’m going to check our forward positions, Lieutenant,” Diekmann said as he stepped out from behind their entrenched position.

Several hundred yards away in a blind constructed of brambles and field grasses, Madeleine watched the small building that had been fortified by surrounding it with sand bags. Earlier she had been much closer to the building armed only with her pistol, having hidden the sniper rifle for later retrieval. She had lain hidden for hours watching the German officers preparing for battle. She was close enough to identify that the division was
Das Reich
and by process of elimination she had picked out the more senior officers. One in particular, a major, seemed to be constantly on the move. There was a violent, bullying air about him. He matched the description that she had been able to obtain through Resistance contacts. It had to be Diekmann. Regardless, she saw every man in the regiment as a criminal. If she shot the wrong pig by mistake she could live with it. Madeleine considered the enormity of the additional evidence.

There had been a few very lucky survivors of Oradour sur Glane. They recounted their terrifying ordeals once the Germans were gone as they returned to the ruin of their village. It had been almost completely decimated. None of the buildings were habitable, even the one that the Germans had occupied, drinking the contents of the owner’s wine cellar in an impromptu celebration, as he lay dead in a hole somewhere. The next day his home, too, was torched.

One woman had escaped the church through a back window, along with a young mother and her baby. The three had been machine-gunned, but the older woman had survived by crawling away to hide in a nearby field. Miraculously, some wounded men had escaped. As the barn they were in was set ablaze they were able to crawl away and hide. Diekmann and his
der Fuhrer
regiment had gone on a looting and killing orgy. Bodies were found down the well at the center of town. Madeleine needed no further proof. Diekmann would never see a courts marshal. She was going to send him straight to a higher authority for judgment.

“I see you, Diekmann,” She whispered. She moved over to the rifle, nestled in a makeshift cradle to steady her shot. With a few minor adjustments she readied the scope and rechecked the distance and wind velocity. She positioned herself behind the rifle and saw Diekmann standing alone. She put the cross hairs of the telescopic sight on the side of his head. The arrogant fool refused to wear a helmet. That can be dangerous, she thought coldly. Diekmann seemed oblivious to the malice that radiated from her. She felt her heart beat and regulated her breathing. The finger of her right hand curled evenly around the trigger. She released her breath slowly and between heartbeats squeezed the trigger. The heavy grain bullet ripped apart Diekmann’s head long before the report of the rifle was heard. She was so far away that little sound reached the German troops. Diekmann collapsed as every muscle in his body simultaneously relaxed. It was almost a minute before anyone noticed his inert body on the ground. Men took cover when the gun’s report reached their ears. He was clearly dead and it was several minutes before Lieutenant Boche crawled over and inspected Diekmann’s body. He looked down at what was left of the man’s head, the eyes vacant and cloudy.

“Move the Major’s body and cover it for burial,” he told two attending soldiers. He looked in the direction the shot must have come from and was puzzled. If the sniper was an advance scout he would have continued firing as a signal for a British advance. Diekmann had been singled out and assassinated. A cold chill ran down his spine as he considered what that meant. There was a killer out there that had specifically targeted Diekmann. For all he knew maybe the sniper had been sent from Berlin in an attempt to put an end to the ramifications of the business at Oradour sur Glane. The General himself may have ordered the killing. Equally disturbing was the notion that someone else was retaliating. If that was so, it might never end. Was he next? He scanned the horizon and knew that he needed some kind of answer. He assembled a squad of three men and piled into a vehicle with a mounted machine gun in case the British decided it was time to start the war again and attack.

Not far away, Captain Teach stood among several officers preparing to signal the British advance against Caen. The men looked at each other as they scanned the horizon with their binoculars looking for the shooter.

“That didn’t come from our side, lads. The sound was from Jerry’s flank. I don’t remember sending a scouting party over there; it would be bloody suicide at this point. Maybe some
Maquis
is taking pot shots at the Hun.”

“That was no potshot, Harry,” Teach said, addressing his fellow officer. If the shooter is who I think it is, there is a dead German in hell right now.”

The men looked at Teach. His face glowed with something they couldn’t label.

“Not one of your old crew, eh Jack?”

“You know I can’t tell you that, old boy,” Jack said with a jovial pat to the man’s back.

The assembled men chuckled, as they broke apart to attend to their duties.

“Hello, Madeleine,” Jack whispered aloud as he walked towards the command tent.

A short while later Lieutenant Boche was summoned over by one of his men.

“I think we found the weapon, Lieutenant,” a soldier said, pointing to the sniper rifle lying where it had been fired. “It took us a while to get close. We weren’t sure the shooter had moved on. The man must have some talent to make a head shot from this distance.”

Boche walked over and looked down at the rifle still cradled in the stand. The bolt had been removed, rendering the weapon useless without repair. He walked over and reached down and picked up a small hat that was carefully laid next to the rifle. It was a tiny scrap of a thing but he recognized it for what it was immediately. The killer had left behind a tiny baby’s bonnet charred and discolored with smoke. Inside the bonnet was a small piece of bread. His insides turned to ice as he remembered the screams of the children of Oradour. He remembered hearing that one of the soldiers had thrown a live baby into the oven of the local bakery. Their ghosts sought vengeance and this was the beginning. Boche turned and walked away, trying to banish the memories from his mind. But the sound of hundreds of tiny feet marching in wooden clogs drummed accusingly in his head.