While Annette was going through her ordeal with Eichmann, Erwan had a less sinister one with the local doctor who had been summoned, as promised by Claudette, to check his leg wound as he rested in a bed in the spare bedroom. Erwan did not like the fuss and was less than gracious with the doctor who, however, was not perturbed because, over the years, he had learned that Erwan’s rough character had a well-meaning base.
“You’re going to live, Erwan,” said the doctor, “and most likely continue to worry your wife half to death. I don’t know how you got this wound, and I don’t want to know. Your nocturnal activities are your affair. Claudette, please change the dressing every two days for the next week, and check for any increasing redness around the periphery of the wound or puffy swelling. That would be a sign of infection. If that happens, get word to me at once. I’ll leave you this small pot of antiseptic ointment; use it sparingly at each dressing change. And finally, stay off your feet for at least four days, Erwan. No plowing, no hedge cutting, no chasing your cows. You’ve got Marcel and the boy for that. So, good day to you, Erwan and Claudette.”
Erwan did not like the idea of staying off his feet for a few days. He had planned to make a trip to St-Brieuc tomorrow with a truck full of assorted vegetables and to bring back a load of fish. He would have to postpone that journey until his leg was healed because he could not risk a road inspection with a bandaged leg; that could lead to too many questions. He thought that perhaps he should familiarize Marcel and Annette in more detail with his little wholesale business, so that they could step in when needed. Perhaps even Claudette should get involved, although he thought that she may not be a tough enough bargainer when dealing with fishermen and vegetable retailers.
An half an hour later, Claudette allowed Marcel to go up to Erwan’s temporary bedroom. Marcel explained that he would rather talk to Erwan alone. Claudette just shrugged her shoulders as a sign of condescension, and went out into the farmyard to feed the hens.
“You’re dead lucky, Erwan, or should I say you’re lucky not to be dead. Either way, no more heroics on our next operation; use your head not your heart. But, as you know, we’ve got a couple of big problems.
“First, the communication problem. André’s death leaves us without an expert radio operator. I tried to set up the Paraset and make a quick transmission to Grendon early on this morning. But either my brain is muddled from lack of sleep or I don’t know as much as I thought I did about procedures. I couldn’t raise anyone. I tried encoding and sending by Morse. No response. Not surprising really; I haven’t much of a clue about the code that André used. He did mention something about a poem-code once, but he never told me what poem or what code; said I was safer not knowing. Anyway, I made up my own code. Simple Boy Scout stuff; shifting the letters of the alphabet five steps to the right. The boys and girls in Grendon should have been able to figure it out quite easily. Then I broke the rules and tried voice on the emergency frequency. Still nothing. With all the German activity out there I just cannot risk a further transmission. They’ll home in on us and then we’d all be cooked.”
“I doubt they’d detect us,” said Erwan. “They’d need to get within 200 yards of the transceiver while we were sending in order to catch us, and we’d spot their big detection van well before they got that close. We’ve got good visibility of all access roads and lanes from the hill where my barn is located.”
“Maybe so, but with you in bed and me using the set who’s going to watch for Germans? Your most intelligent cow?”
“We could try that,” responded Erwan with a wry grin, “but I was thinking of someone more attractive, like Annette.”
“Not a chance! I don’t want her hanging around the farm in daylight. That would be abnormal and therefore suspicious to any passerby. Anyway, she teaches all day, remember. And can you see Claudette allowing her up here; she’d get more than a cold shoulder. You saw the way Claudette looked at her when we staggered back here in the middle of the night with her wounded beloved between us. If looks could have killed, Annette would have been a goner. No, we have to find an alternate radio operator, and fast. London needs to know the outcome of the arms drop and our losses, but, in particular, they need to know about our new found friends, the guys who stopped us all being wiped out. Jean and his merry men. Essentially they are a rogue group of communists without any central control, splintered from a bigger group that was somehow betrayed and scattered.
“Now I’ve got nothing against working with communists; we all have the same goal, but the SOE big boys in London may not see it that way. They are politically sensitive, to put it politely. However, I intend using them, no matter what London says. So, first, I have to find them again; find Jean or anyone of them who can lead me to Jean. We left them in the forest doing a disappearing trick with their share of the arms, so in the forest I guess they remain.”
“And how do you intend finding them in 18,000 acres of woods? By walking every path whistling The Marseillaise ?”
“I’m not going anywhere near the forest at the moment, and I only hope that Jean’s group had the sense to go way deep into the woods well away from where we had the skirmish with the Germans. No, what I think will happen is that Jean will come searching for us. At the moment, he needs our help more than we need his. I don’t know whether you noticed in the dark, but his group looked in bad shape; half starved, poorly clothed for the winter, and generally exhausted. They’ve probably been on the run for days, carrying just what’s left of their weapons. They probably had to destroy all their support gear once their cover was blown; all their identity papers, true or false, maps, permits, the lot.”
“And how exactly will Jean find us? That’ll be almost as hard as we looking for him?” questioned Erwan, wincing as a sharp pain traveled up his wounded leg.
“I told him the name of your farm and roughly where it was,” said Marcel. “I had to. I had no option. I knew it was risky, but I also knew we’d have to make contact sometime or another.”
“My God, you’re right it’s risky, damn risky! What happens if Jean and his twelve men come strolling up the lane to the farm in broad daylight, waving to the neighbors as they do so. Tongues will wag and the Germans will be up here in a flash.”
“Now don’t be stupid, Erwan. That won’t happen. These men are seasoned Resistance fighters. They know how to move around as silent as shadows. Jean will probably get the lie of the land over the next few days, and then he, and he alone, will approach under cover of darkness.”
“Well, I hope you’re right. Remember, their group has already let themselves be betrayed once. Who’s to say they don’t have another traitor in their midst ready to pull us down too? And another thing, there were two strange coincidences last night. First, the German patrol just happened to be in the very spot where the arms drop was made. Then, secondly, Jean’s group just happened to be in the very spot where the Germans were lying in wait for us. Think about that, Marcel.”
“Yeah, yeah, I already have. For now I’m going to trust Jean; we really do need his men. We’re five short, and to continue our operations we’ve got to have replacements. But don’t worry, I’ll be making some checks. I no more want a lingering death in the hands of the Gestapo than you do.
“Back to the question of communications. It may be a long shot, but perhaps Jean has a trained radio operator in his group, or, at least, somebody with more knowledge than I have. If so, we’ll introduce him to the Paraset in your barn and hopefully raise Grendon. Then I’ll put in an urgent request for an airborne pickup. I want to take Jean back to London headquarters with me, get him known, in the flesh as it were, to the controllers and bosses. I have to get formal permission to link up and use Jean and his bunch of communists in the fun and games of our sabotage work. If SOE has any bad information on Jean, they’ll tell me about it after the meeting. But if they think he’s loyal and can eventually fit well into the organization, they may want to send him on some crash training courses to learn our methods.
“If all goes well and green lights flash, we’ll have to forge new papers and dream up cover stories for Jean and his men while in London. That means we’ll need photographs of them to be made before Jean and I are picked up. That’s going to be a difficult job. As you know, I have an SOE field camera but I don’t have a well-lighted studio that goes with it. But I’ll think of something.
“Next problem. Assuming Jean makes contact, we’ll then have to take on the role of group support. You’re a man of the forest, where can they best hide until they’re ready to diffuse into the various communities around here? I mean, they’ll eventually have to get jobs; on farms, in stores, in small workshops, wherever they can lead a normal, unnoticeable life. I bet you know a few places, Erwan; caves, old mines, quarries, that sort of thing? Speak to me.”
A deep frown came over Erwan’s brow and the corners of his mouth turned up in a grimacing smile. He seemed agitated.
“I didn’t think my question was all that difficult, Erwan.”
“It isn’t,” hissed Erwan through clenched teeth. “My backside’s gone numb sitting like this, and I can’t feel my good leg. I hate lying in bed, so I’m going to get up and hobble around. Give me a hand, will you. To hell with doctor’s orders.”
“You really think you should? What if you slip and open up the wound?”
“Well, I won’t have to, will I. Now come on, give us a hand. Your shoulder is just the right height to be my crutch.” Erwan slowly swung his legs out of bed, and with support from Marcel stood up and moved around the room.
“Do you want me to rub your backside to bring it back to life?” asked Marcel.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’m very particular about who does that; you’re not on the list.”
“Thank God!” And they both laughed.
“OK, I’ve been thinking. Hiding places for our friends. I know one for sure; a nice big cave in a rock outcrop, deep in the forest. Another one I have in mind is a steep hill with a lot of trees and very heavy undergrowth. The hill will give them the high-ground advantage in any shoot-out, if the heavy undergrowth fails to provide concealment.”
“That’s good, that’s good, Erwan. Yes, but how are we going to show them the locations? You can’t lead them there with your leg.”
“Well, I couldn’t lead them there without my leg.”
“Very, ha, ha, funny, smart ass.”
“Annette’s the solution. Years ago I showed her the cave, one beautiful summer’s day. We did a little hike to the Fontaine de Barenton, and then went on to the cave. We spoke of Merlin and Vivian and other legendary people as we walked. The forest smelled of a million scents, the insects buzzed lazily and birds preferred to doze rather than fly through the warm, soft air. It was a perfect day.”
Erwan looked out of the bedroom window and his eyes glazed over as the memories flooded back.
“Don’t get sentimental on me, Erwan. How many times has Annette been to this cave of yours?”
“Just the once, I believe, unless she tried to find it again on her own. But no matter, I can draw her a map and remind her of the landmarks used to find the place. She’s a smart girl and never forgets details.”
“Good, very good. We’ll get Jean’s group into the cave just as soon as possible, and when you’re fit enough again for strenuous walking and climbing, you can split the group and take half of them to the hill area.”
“OK, boss. All this assumes Jean actually does make contact and does need us. He could, instead, just decide to operate on his own, or go back to Normandy and link up with another communist group.”
“You’re a real devil’s advocate, aren’t you, Erwan?”
“If I knew what that meant and it’s good to be one, then I am.”
“One day I’ll explain it, but for now I order you back to bed, then I’ll go and get on with some farm work. There are hedges and fields out there needing attention, and livestock to feed. If we don’t work, we don’t eat. I’ll let myself out and give Claudette a kiss on the way.”
“You may get your face slapped if you try. She’s been mightily depressed lately. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. I seem to annoy her. She’s taken to disliking Annette, and she hates the war.”
“I’ll turn a little charm on. Perhaps she’s got a numb backside as well. I can fix that,” said Marcel, with a twinkle in his eye, “but, of course, only with your permission, Erwan.”