Echoes

Amadea radioed Serge that night. The message was only “Yes. Teresa.” She knew he would understand, and pass the message on to the colonel. She got her instructions the next day. He was flying in to the east of her this time. And she had to travel to meet the cell there. They would give her papers, and whatever clothes she needed. It was winter, and they wouldn't be having an “anniversary weekend” in Paris at the Crillon. She didn't need anything as fancy, just substantial.

She left in the dark of night and reached Nancy by morning. Colonel Montgomery had landed in a field that night. This time he had been parachuted in. They were expected to be in Germany for five days. When he saw her, he broke into a broad smile.

“Well, Sister, how have you been?”

“Fine, thank you, Colonel. It's good to see you again.” Their greeting was respectful and friendly. It was like meeting an old friend.

He was impressed that she had agreed to take on this mission, knowing full well how dangerous it was for her. He had felt guilty asking her, but the truth was, he needed her, and so did England. He was glad she was coming with him.

They got their papers, and he instructed her that night. They sat talking until daylight. It was complicated this time. He needed her help in culling information, and taking photographs for him. He gave her a tiny camera for that purpose, to conceal in a pocket of her handbag. He was wearing his SS uniform again, and they were taking the train into Germany that morning. As they had before, he spoke to her in German, so they would make no mistake while on their mission. German had to be their language of choice and habit with each other, just as it had been in Paris. And once again, she found she was happy speaking it to him. But they both knew that this mission would be even more delicate than the first one.

They both looked tired and pale when they boarded the train, as everyone did that winter. But they chatted good-humoredly as the train left the station, and after a while she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. She was genuinely exhausted. He read while she slept, and when she awoke, she looked better. They were going to Salzal Thüringen, and staying at a hotel where officers and their wives were billeted. It was nothing to compare to the Crillon. And when they checked in, their room was pleasant. The desk clerk apologized that there were two narrow beds in the room instead of one big one. They were full up with wives visiting their husbands before Christmas. Rupert told them it was no problem, it wasn't their honeymoon, and all three of them laughed. He could see as they walked into the room that Amadea was relieved. And this time the agents in the cell that had outfitted them had provided her with a warm flannel nightgown. This trip was far less romantic, and infinitely more dangerous. Rupert was impersonating an SS officer who did not exist. His name and papers were entirely fictitious, as were hers. They had agreed that it was perfectly all right for her to say she was from Cologne. She was less likely to make mistakes then, and so many of the records had been destroyed in the bombing of '42, the year before. It made conversation much easier and less self-conscious for her whenever she chatted with other officers or their wives.

They went to two formal Gestapo dinners in the evening. But most of the time, Rupert was working. On one occasion, she came with him for a tour of the factory. The Nazis were very proud of what they were doing. Amadea remembered everything she saw and wrote it down in the evening.

The entire trip was a constant strain, and on the fourth day, Rupert said quietly when they went to bed that he had done it. They were leaving in the morning, and everything had gone smoothly. But Amadea was awake all night with an anxious feeling. She still had it when they boarded the train the next day. She was silent for most of the trip through Germany. It was as though she had a strange premonition, which she didn't dare communicate to Rupert. There was no point making him nervous too. What they had done had been stunningly bold and courageous, and they both knew it.

Their papers were checked frequently on their way across Germany, and in the last station, two young soldiers seemed to take forever. They were very near the border, and she was sure something would happen. But once again their passports were handed back to them, and the train moved on.

Rupert smiled at her as they pulled away. And by morning, they were back in France. They were going to Paris, and from there back to Melun. According to Rupert's papers, he was stationed at SS headquarters in Paris. They were going to Serge, where Rupert could radio into England, and then to Melun, from where he would leave. It was the week before Christmas.