The Last Letter from Juliet - Melanie Hudson Page 0,105
that it was safe for me to land), then the remaining torches would be turned on. If no Morse signal was sent from the ground (or if the signal was corrupt) then I would not land, but turn tail and fly home. On landing I was to keep the rotor running and spend no more than three minutes on the ground. The agents had been trained to find suitable fields and describe them by wireless ahead of time. The pilot had to simply trust that field would be suitable for landing – no ditches, low walls or trees.
At eight hundred feet, just as had happened with my previous flights into France, I saw the light. At that moment, the fact that the passenger waiting anxiously in the field for our rendezvous was Edward, was not relevant.
I surged my engine, flashed the bright landing light and, while nearing ever closer to the ground, waited for the secret code to be flashed back at me. It came, the remaining lights of the L-shape came on and I made final preparations for landing.
But the landing itself was where my luck ran its course. The field was rough, full of drainage ditches and completely unsuitable for landing, but in the dark it was impossible to see just how unsuitable the field was. The aircraft was fitted with a super-strengthened undercarriage, but even my wonderful Lysander could not possibly withstand the brutality of such deep ditches. I had slowed on the ground to about 20 mph when the aircraft stopped abruptly as the nose pitched forwards into a ditch, tipping the aircraft to an angle of about forty-five degrees with the tail in the air.
I was too stunned to move at first but then survival instinct kicked in. I slid back the canopy and scrambled out. My poor aircraft was trashed, disgraced and dishonoured.
A man dashed towards me as I jumped down onto the grass. I ripped off my helmet and shook my head.
‘You fool!’ I shouted in French, forgetting momentarily the need for silence. ‘How could this field ever have been suitable for a safe landing.’ I turned towards the Lysander. ‘And look at my aircraft! Look! Look at it!’
The man did not answer immediately, but stared at me. I had seen this look before. It was the confused gaze of a man trying to understand how it could be that a woman would be flying such an aircraft. He came to his senses.
‘I checked the field this morning,’ he said. ‘The farmer must have ploughed the ditches this afternoon. I’m sorry.’
I put my hand to my head and felt something wet. I was bleeding. But I had others concerns right now. I needed to grab my survival bag, torch the aircraft and run. Two men approached. One was holding the other, helping him to walk as they struggled across the field. The weaker man, I saw as they approached, was Edward.
‘Juliet?’ he whispered, still leaning on the other man. ‘But … how?’
‘I came for you, but … I’m so sorry. The field … the ditches …?’
The man who had approached me first spoke directly to Edward in a rushed whisper.
‘We need to get you out of here.’ He turned to the other man. ‘Julien, take Edward to the next safe house. She’s right, we need to torch the aircraft. I’ll stay here and see it’s done.’
Edward spoke. His voice was weak.
‘But, Juliet? No, I can’t leave her.’
My resilience rallied.
‘Go, Edward. I know this area. I’m strong. You know I am. Please …’
Edward was simply too injured, too frail, to argue. He held me close and whispered into my ear.
‘We’ve been compromised. Run alone and evade in the opposite direction before heading to safety. Tell the agent you’ve been told to head to Spain, to try for a boat out of Santander. Don’t trust him. Make sure you’re not followed to the farm.’
He turned and disappeared into the darkness. I grabbed my survival bag and threw it in a hedge, away from the aircraft.
‘You know how to torch an aircraft?’ I asked.
He nodded.
‘You’ll have to shoot the fuel tank. Do you have a silencer on your gun?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Get on with it.’
No dog barked and no church bell sounded to pierce through the silence. As my poor Lysander began to burn, we ran to the hedge where I had stowed my survival bag. I took out my French overcoat, beret and shoes. The man turned to me.