Chapter Nineteen

10th May, 1940

Dear Evelyn,

I just posted a letter to you this morning, but I had to sit down tonight to write another. Can you believe it? We’ve been hearing updates all day, and with each one it gets worse. The Luftwaffe is going ahead of the ground troops, bombing in advance. Brussels and Antwerp are getting hit the worst, from all accounts, and so is Rotterdam. It’s really ingenious what the Jerries have developed in their Blitzkrieg. I’m obviously not in favor of the destruction, but no one can deny the effectiveness. As the air force bombs the airfields, communications towers and bridges and transport lines, the ground troops move in behind them, taking advantage of the chaos left behind. It’s truly frightening how effective it is.

I know two pilots who are in France flying Hurricanes. We heard tonight that the air battles over Belgium are already fierce. Funny thing, that. The Luftwaffe is outnumbered by the RAF, French and Belgians, but they’re managing to inflict heavy damage. Apparently they destroyed most of the Belgian air force on the ground before they could even retaliate. Is this the air force that everyone said was no threat? For that matter, is this the German army that everyone said couldn’t afford to go up against the French army? I’m very much afraid that what they lack in numbers, they more than make up for in artillery and tactics. If our lads can stop them in Belgium, and prevent them from getting into France, we still have a fighting chance. But if they can’t...

At least now we have a Prime Minister who will do more than hem and haw and delay. Have you heard? I’m sure you have. Chamberlain resigned this evening, and Winston Churchill succeeded him! Not Halifax as we all imagined. I’m terribly pleased by this turn of events. I think Churchill just might be exactly what we need in Downing Street. Why, he even looks pugnacious! I know many people laugh at him, and most of the party don’t even like him, but he will stand and fight. He won’t back down, and that is what we need right now with Hitler on the move. Luxembourg didn’t even put up a fight, from what I’ve heard. At least Belgium is fighting.

I hope you’re safe and doing well in Cornwall. That is where you said you were going next, isn’t it? At least it’s warmer there than in Wales where you got so ill. Please take care of yourself. I wish you could have rested for a while longer, but at least you’re safely tucked away in what has to be one of the most relaxing places in England. You’re well away from the excitement.

I go down to the advance station in the morning, so I must wrap this up. I hope you’re well, and I can’t wait to see you again.

Always yours,

FO Miles Lacey

RAF Duxford

Bill looked up when there was a quick knock and his office door opened to admit his assistant Wesley. He carried a sheaf of paper in one hand and a ledger in the other.

“I have the latest reports on troop movements, the first batch of transmissions from the basement, and the operating ledger you requested,” he said cheerfully, closing the door behind him. “And tea’s almost up. They’ll bring it around shortly.”

“Anything from Belgium?” Bill asked, holding out one hand for the stack of papers while he closed the folder he was studying with the other.

“No. Two messages came in from France. They’re at the top of the stack. One is from our man in Metz, and the other is from an unknown source.”

Bill raised an eyebrow and pulled the first two sealed messages from the top of the pile. Tearing open the first one, he scanned the message translated by the radio operators in the basement. His face lightened almost immediately.

“Fantastic!” he exclaimed. “It’s from Jian. She’s escaped Brussels and is safely in France. She’ll contact again when she reaches Paris.”

“Yes it is.” Bill set aside the transmission and opened the second one, lapsing into silence.

“Not good news, no,” Bill murmured. He lowered the message and frowned at the map on the wall across the room. “German motorized columns have been spotted moving through the Ardennes.”

“An entire army by the sounds of it.” Bill got up to stride across the office to the map on the wall. “At least five Panzer divisions, and very likely more, have been confirmed.”

“Apparently they aren’t as impenetrable as they thought,” Bill muttered grimly, staring at the map. “Get Jasper on the telephone, will you? He’ll want to know about this.”

Wesley nodded and went over to pick up the handset on the desk. While he telephoned Jasper’s office, Bill traced the line from the Ardennes forest near Sedan to Belgium with a scowl. Five Panzer divisions confirmed meant that a huge part of Hitler’s army was coming through the Ardennes, not Belgium as they presumed.

“Montclair isn’t in his office, but his assistant said he’ll be back in half an hour. Shall I have him give him a message?”

“What?” Bill looked around, distracted. “Oh. No. No, I’ll go up myself when he returns.”

Wesley spoke into the receiver and then hung up. “What does it mean, do you suppose?”

“What does it mean?” Bill snorted. “It means that the French High Command has been caught sleeping. The Germans sent a feint into Belgium, and they fell for it. Based on the attack in Holland and Belgium, they committed all our best troops to Belgium to stop them. In the meantime, it’s not the main thrust of the German army at all. The Ardennes is!”

Wesley crossed the room to join him at the map. “Are you sure?” he asked, his brows drawn together. “There can’t be a mistake?”

“Metz has independent confirmation from four different agents in the Ardennes. Add that to the aerial photos taken two days ago showing columns of forces heading into the area and I don’t think there can be any doubt.”

“We have aerial photos?” Wesley stared at him. “From two days ago? Why didn’t we divert troops to the area?”

“Because the French said it was nothing. They claimed it was a diversionary tactic,” Bill said disgustedly. “When we sent another reconnaissance flight over, the columns had disappeared. So nothing was done.”

“No Wesley, it isn’t. While the entire BEF is tied up in Belgium, the Germans are sending Panzers through the Ardennes. Look.” He pointed to the map. “If they break through Sedan, they can cut west towards the channel and trap our troops in Belgium. See?”

Bill shook his head grimly. “I have absolutely no idea. We must stop them from breaking through at Sedan, but I don’t know how. That’s for the High Command to figure out. Our job is to get them the intelligence. What they do with it is up to them.”

“But...that’s our entire British Expeditionary Force!” Wesley exclaimed. “That’s the bulk of our army!”

“I’m well aware of that, Wesley.” Bill turned to go over to his desk and dropped into the chair. “How long has it been since they began their offensive? Thirty hours?”

“Thirty hours into the invasion and we’re already in danger of losing France.” He rubbed his eyes and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. “It doesn’t seem real, does it?”

“Don’t give up France yet, sir,” Wesley said encouragingly. “It’s early days yet. We can still stop them at Sedan, and then we can pull the BEF back out of Belgium. It’s not over yet, not by a long shot.”

“I hope you’re right, Wesley.” Bill lifted his head. “Thank God Churchill’s in charge now. I can’t imagine what Chamberlain would have done faced with this. It doesn’t bear thinking about, actually.”

“No, sir. I was very happy to see that he’d accepted the Prime Ministership last night. I heard the news when I was at the pub.”

Bill looked at him and his lips twisted wryly. “That’s as good a place as any to hear news like that. Did you raise a glass?”

Wesley grinned. “I did indeed, sir, as did my brother with me. Not everyone is as optimistic about this appointment, but I think everyone is relieved to see the back of Chamberlain.”

“Yes, thank you.” Bill leaned forward and picked up the next paper from the stack on his desk. Glancing up, he stopped Wesley on his way to the door. “I’m sorry you’re here on a Saturday, Wesley.”

He left the office and Bill turned his attention back to the papers before him. It was going to be a long day, and an even longer weekend.

Evelyn stepped into the large kitchen at the back of the house and looked around. It was a sunny room with two windows overlooking the small yard accessed through a door next to the pantry. An old scarred wooden table took up most of the room to the left of the door. Three empty coffee mugs told her that someone was up, even if there was no one to be found. Going over to the windows above the sink and counter, she looked out into the yard. It was empty. With a shrug, she turned from the window and looked at the coffee pot on the stove. She picked it up and, finding it empty, began to look for the coffee. She would make a new pot while she was waiting for someone to show up.

She was just filling the percolator with fresh water when a door slammed somewhere on the ground floor and footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor. A few seconds later Josephine came into the kitchen in a flurry of excitement.

“Oh good! You’re down!” she exclaimed, tossing her hat onto the table and pulling off her jacket. “Have you seen anyone yet?”

“Not really. It was empty and I wanted a cup!” Evelyn replied with a laugh, setting the pot over a burner and lighting the gas.

Josephine tossed her jacket over the back of a chair and crossed the kitchen to turn on the tap over the sink.

“Marc and Luc have gone into Maubeuge to get the latest news, but from what we heard earlier on the radio, it isn’t good,” she said, scrubbing her hands with a sliver of soap under the water. “The Germans are moving quickly. One thing that might interest you, though. Your Prime Minister resigned yesterday.”

Relief washed over Evelyn and she couldn’t stop the wide smile from curving her lips.

Josephine looked at her doubtfully, shutting off the faucet. “Do you think so? I’m not so sure. We’ve heard that he’s a bit of a loose cannon.”

“Oh he has his moments, but he’s better than the alternative, believe me!” Evelyn went over to sit down while she waited for the coffee to percolate. “He’ll stand and fight, not cow tail to Hitler and his henchmen. It’s really official? The King invited him and all the rest?”

“I don’t know about all the rest, but the radio said he met with King George last night and was now Prime Minister.” Josephine dried her hands on a towel and tossed it onto the counter. “You haven’t eaten, have you? We have bread and cheese, and I believe there’s some fruit. I’ll get it for you.”

“You really don’t have to go to any trouble,” Evelyn protested, but it was too late. Josephine had already disappeared into the pantry. “Where are the others? Did they go into Maubeuge as well?” she called.

“No. They went across the border to Bois-Bourdon to find out what they can,” Josephine called back, her voice muffled. “I didn’t want them to go, but they insisted. We have a contact there, and they are going to try to get him to come back with them. They will be gone for a few days most likely.”

She emerged from the pantry with a tray of crusty bread, a variety of cheeses, and huge pile of grapes. Carrying it over to the table, she shook her head when Evelyn would have gotten up to help.

“You sit and eat your breakfast,” she said, setting the tray down. “I’ll get a knife for the cheese. Is your friend up yet?”

“I haven’t seen him,” Evelyn said, reaching for the grapes. “I’m sure he’ll be along shortly. We had a long day yesterday.”

“So did the Germans, by the sounds of it.” Josephine set down a knife for the cheese and sat across from her. “They’re already through Luxembourg, and they’ve been bombing everywhere, it seems. Brussels and Antwerp are getting hit the hardest.”

“Really?” Evelyn looked up from spreading cheese on a piece of bread. “Brussels wasn’t that bad when we left.”

“It is now, and so are all the towns around it. The bridges and communication towers are all destroyed or out of commission, so now they are focusing on the civilians.” Josephine made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “There won’t be much of Belgium or Holland left by the time they’ve finished.”

“Is it bad now?” A new voice asked from the door and both women turned to watch Jens come into the kitchen, a frown on his face. “What’s happening?”

“The Luftwaffe is targeting Brussels and Antwerp with heavy bombing,” Evelyn told him. “We left just in time.”

He crossed the kitchen to drop into a chair at the table. “I’m not surprised. It’s why I wanted to make sure you got back to France. They’ll be targeting the civilians soon.”

Marc strode into the kitchen, followed closely by Luc. Neither of them looked happy.

“It’s worse than we thought,” he continued, looking at Josephine. “We didn’t reach Maubeuge. The army had the roads blocked so they could feed supplies in to the fort. We talked to some men on the road. They’d just come from Trélon. The Germans are bombing France.”

“What? Already?” Josephine stared at him, her face paling. “But they’re still in Belgium! Our army is battling their attack there. How can they be turning their attention to France already?”

“They’re already through Luxembourg, and Panzer divisions have been spotted in the Ardennes,” Luc said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes. The impenetrable Ardennes.” Marc glanced at Evelyn. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’m not so much surprised as resigned,” she replied, tearing another piece of bread off the loaf on the tray. “This is just another example of everyone underestimating Hitler’s resolve. He said himself that this would be nothing like the last war, and yet all our commanders and generals insist on expecting it to be just like the last war.”

“But the Ardennes!” Josephine shook her head, clearly shaken. “How will they get through?”

“That’s not the worst of it,” Marc said. “All of our strongest troops are in Belgium. If the Germans make it to Sedan, we’re lost.”

Silence fell over the kitchen until, with a start, Evelyn remembered the coffee. Getting up, she went over to lift the pot off the stove, pouring hot, black coffee into a clean cup.

“What about the bombing?” Jens finally asked. “You said they were bombing France.”

“Yes.” Marc picked up one of the cups from the table and carried it over to refill it with the fresh coffee. “So far, they’ve hit Bruay, La Fere, Nancy, Colmar, Pontoise, Lambersart, Lyons and Abbeville. There are reports of them heading towards Henin-Lietard, Lens, Bouai, Hasebrouck and Doullens as well. They may have already been there. It seems like they’re hitting everywhere at once.”

“Oh my God,” Josephine breathed, sitting back in her chair heavily. “So many!”

“Those are only the ones we know about,” Luc said grimly. “One of the men said that he’d heard at least forty casualties already, all civilians.”

“And in Belgium?” Evelyn asked, going back to her seat with her steaming coffee. “What about the refugees?”

“No word yet, but if they’re blanketing us...” Marc’s voice trailed off. There was no need to finish the thought. They all understood.

Evelyn glanced at Jens to find his lips pressed together and his jaw clenched. Sensing her eyes on him, he looked at her and his expression softened slightly.

“Still safe. They seem to be confining themselves to the border, although they did go as far south as Lyons.”

Josephine looked at Jens as he fell silent again, his forehead creased in worry. “Will you go back to Brussels?” she asked him. “After you take Marie to Paris, I mean?”

“Is it safe to go to Paris?” he asked, looking around. “If they’re bombing all these other towns and cities, won’t they also bomb Paris?”

Despite herself, Evelyn smiled faintly. Heaven forbid indeed! She couldn’t image in her precious Paris with bombs falling from the huge black shadows that she’d seen flying over them during their flight from Brussels.

“What do you think, Marie?” Jens asked, leaning forward. “I know you have to get back to your boss and to your home, but do you think it’s safe to do so just now?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Perhaps we should wait for a few hours and see what happens as the day goes on. If it looks as though Paris will become unsafe, then we can decide what to do then.”

Evelyn looked at Josephine. “Well, that’s if our hosts don’t mind,” she said.

Josephine waved her concern away. “Of course not! Stay as long as you like.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about Paris just yet,” Marc said, sipping his coffee. “The Germans are moving faster than any of us expected, but Paris is still in the heart of France. They have to get through the border first. If they manage that, then we can worry about Paris.”

“God-willing the army stops them before they can reach the border,” Josephine said. “In the meantime, an extra few hours here won’t make any difference, will they? Is it crucial that you get to Paris?”

“No, I suppose not.” Evelyn looked at Jens, noting the look of worry on his face. “Once we hear more news, we’ll decide where we’re going. If you’re really concerned, Jens, I can make my own way from here. You’ve already done so much for me. I’ll understand if you’d rather go back.”

He shook his head vigorously. “No, no. I said I’d see you safely to Paris, and I will. If you decide to go somewhere else, I’ll take you.”

Jens nodded distractedly and reached for the bread. As he cut off some cheese, Evelyn met Josephine’s glance across the table. They had managed to talk him into staying for the day, at least. Now they just had to figure out what it was that he was hiding.