and unless the 108th goes on an epic diversion it will pass through or near the city en route to Normandy. I’m going to take the OT truck. My team and I will drive through the night. Tanks can’t move quickly, so we’ll try to reach Rouen before the 108th and do what we can to stop them from moving on. Questions?’
Nobody spoke, but several sets of eyes looked down at Daniel. Henderson nodded thoughtfully.
‘He wants to come and he’s already proved his worth,’ Henderson announced. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this war, it’s that there’s not much of a link between a person’s age and a person’s ability. Daniel and Michel will go with Team A.’
Although Jean didn’t approve of Henderson’s operation, the elderly ex-teacher cared about the young men. He made sure that everyone who was about to leave was equipped with ration cards, some kind of fake ID and decent boots.
Henderson donned his OT uniform and began preparing identity paperwork that would enable his team to ride his stolen German truck to Rouen in the guise of a construction crew.
The plan for PT’s six-strong team was to pick up bicycles stashed at the edge of the woods. Even if the Tigers could only move long distances at fifteen kph, they had no time to waste if they were to have a realistic chance of following them on bicycles.
Henderson gave Marc and PT maps, marked with the most likely routes to Normandy and key locations where sabotage might be an option. He then grew irritated as the two squads dragged out their goodbyes.
‘Move out,’ PT shouted.
‘Good luck,’ Henderson said, as he quickly shook PT’s hand.
Besides PT, Marc, Luc, Edith, Daniel and Michel, more than twenty other Maquis decided to walk to the edge of the woods with them because they had nothing better to do. Henderson worried that this unofficial entourage could attract attention, but he had other things on his mind and knew that nobody would follow them once they’d picked up the bikes.
The tail end of PT’s entourage had just vanished between trees when a flash and shockwave burst over the small forest clearing. As Henderson and everyone else hit the deck the sky was lit with bright white light and there was a sound like a thousand twigs snapping.
‘Take cover,’ Henderson shouted, but nobody heard because the Germans had launched three more artillery shells.
The first attack of the war had involved Hitler’s tanks pushing into the forests of Poland. The Germans had quickly learned that sending tanks or artillery into dense woodland was hopeless. But setting shells to explode a few metres above a forest canopy turned trunks and branches into thousands of deadly, high-velocity splinters.
As Henderson looked about, hot wooden spears whizzed in all directions, smashing into the ground, into trees and into flesh. The 108th clearly knew exactly where the Maquis headquarters was, even though Jean had only moved here that morning.
Jean’s command tent had been levelled and a man’s legs were smashed under a felled trunk less than 3 metres from Henderson’s position.
‘Team B, move out,’ Henderson shouted, as he stood up.
He did a quick three-sixty, seeing every surface covered with charred splinters, from the size of an arm to the size of a pencil stub. Paul’s face came out of the dark and Henderson put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
‘You OK?’
‘Yeah,’ Paul gasped, as he eyed the sky overhead nervously. There was blood spattered on his face, but it was someone else’s.
‘We stick to our plan,’ Henderson ordered. ‘Round the others up and lead them out of the woods to my truck.’
‘How do we know there isn’t a line of tanks between us and the truck?’ Paul asked.
‘We don’t,’ Henderson said bluntly. ‘But I don’t fancy sticking around here much, do you?’
Before Paul could answer, another triple-shell barrage lit the sky. The first blasts had ripped the tops off the trees, enabling this second wave to penetrate deeper and shred more wood. After finding a couple of members of his team and ordering them to move, Henderson ran towards his tent to grab a leather pouch containing his maps.
Jean got in Henderson’s face as he reached under the canvas to pick it up.
‘You brought this upon us,’ Jean screamed. ‘I hope you feel bloody proud.’
Jean was right, but Henderson felt no guilt. Shitty things happened to decent people. Henderson was a military man and you had to accept that fact if you wanted to wage war.
‘Take your men