Jackdaws

“Teams E, F, G, and H will be in this cluster of trees beside the pond, each equipped with a large battery searchlight. Teams I and J will remain at La Maison Grandin to guard the prisoners and maintain the command post with Major Weber.” Dieter did not want Weber at the scene of the arrest. “Teams K and L will be with me, behind this hedge near the cowshed.” Hans had found out which of the men were the best shots and assigned them to work with Dieter.

“I will be in radio contact with all teams and will be in command in the pasture. When we hear the plane-we do nothing! When we see the parachutists-we do nothing! We will watch the parachutists land and wait for the reception committee to round them up and assemble them near where the vehicles are parked.” Dieter raised his voice, mainly for the benefit of Weber. “Not until this process has been completed will we arrest anyone!” The men would not jump the gun unless a skittish officer told them to.

“When we are ready, I will give the signal. From this moment on, until the order to stand down is given, teams A, B, C, and D will arrest anyone attempting to enter or leave the village. Teams E, F, G, and H will switch on their searchlights and turn them on the enemy. Teams K and L will approach them with me and arrest them. No one is to fire on the enemy—is that clear?”

Schuller, obviously the thinker among the group, raised his hand again. “What if they fire on us?”

“Do not return their fire. These people are useless to us dead! Lie flat and keep the lights trained on them. Only teams E and F are permitted to use their weapons, and they have orders to shoot to wound. We want to interrogate these parachutists, not kill them.”

The phone in the room rang, and Hans Hesse picked it up. “It’s for you,” he said to Dieter. “Rommel’s headquarters.”

The timing was lucky, Dieter thought as he took the phone. He had called Walter Goedel at La RocheGuyon earlier and had left a message asking Goedel to call back. Now he said, “Walter, my friend, how is the Field Marshal?”

“Fine, what do you want?” said Goedel, abrupt as ever.

“I thought the Field Marshal might like to know that we expect to carry off a small coup tonight-the arrest of a group of saboteurs as they arrive.” Dieter hesitated to give details over the phone, but this was a German military line, and the risk that the Resistance might be listening was very small. And it was crucial to get Goedel’s support for the operation. “My information is that one of them could tell us a great deal about several Resistance circuits.”

“Excellent,” said Goedel. “As it happens, I am calling you from Paris. How long would it take me to drive to Reims-two hours?”

“Three.”

“Then I will join you on the raid.”

Dieter was delighted. “By all means,” he said, “if that is what the Field Marshal would like. Meet us at the château of Sainte-Cécile not later than nineteen hundred.” He looked at Weber, who had gone slightly pale.

“Very good.” Goedel hung up.

Dieter handed the phone back to Hesse. “Field Marshal Rommel’s personal aide, Major Goedel, will be joining us tonight,” he said triumphantly. “Yet another reason for us to make sure that everything is done with impeccable efficiency.” He smiled around the room, bringing his gaze to rest finally on Weber. “Aren’t we fortunate?”

CHAPTER 29

ALL MORN INC THE Jackdaws drove north in a small bus. It was a slow journey through leafy woods and fields of green wheat, zigzagging from one sleepy market town to the next, circling London to the west. The countryside seemed oblivious of the war or indeed of the twentieth century, and Flick hoped it would long remain so. As they wound their way through medieval Winchester, she thought of Reims, another cathedral city, with uniformed Nazis strutting on the streets and the Gestapo everywhere in their black cars, and she gave a short prayer of thanks that they had stopped at the English Channel. She sat next to Paul and watched - the countryside for a while; then-having been awake all night making love-she fell into a blissful sleep with her head on his shoulder.

At two in the afternoon they reached the village of Sandy in Bedfordshire. The bus went down a winding country road, turned onto an unpaved lane through a wood, and arrived at a large mansion called Tempsford House. Flick had been here before: it was the assembly point for the nearby Tempsford Airfield. The mood of tranquility left her. Despite the eighteenth-century elegance of the place, to her it symbolized the unbearable tension of the hours immediately before a flight into enemy territory.

They were too late for lunch, but they got tea and sandwiches in the dining room. Flick drank her tea but felt too anxious to eat. However, the others tucked in heartily. Afterwards they were shown to their rooms.