Night Fighters in France. Shaun Clarke

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СКАЧАТЬ until the track was inspected by the jeep on point; when it was reported clear, the column of jeeps, using the track, would cross at top speed. Once or twice the last of their jeeps crossed just as retreating German columns appeared along the MSR and headed towards them; but that first day, at least, they managed to push on unseen.

      The first village they came to was on the banks of the Loire. Arriving there just before noon, they were greeted by villagers, mostly women, children and elderly men who cheered, applauded and placed garlands of flowers around the soldiers’ necks. The soldiers then learned that they were the first Allied troops to arrive; that the Germans had only recently fled from this village; that three of the villages around it were still occupied by sizeable German columns; and that the Germans were reported to have recently fled from the next village along the SAS men’s route.

      As most of the soldiers settled down in the sunny village square to flirt with the bolder local girls while enjoying a lunch of fresh bread, cheese and calvados, all supplied by the grateful villagers, Callaghan and Greaves received a visit from the mayor and the sole remaining member of the Maquis. The mayor was a portly, good-humoured individual who gave them invaluable information about the German forces who had occupied the village. The Maquisard was a young man, Pierre, who wore shabby grey trousers, a torn tweed jacket, shoes with holes in the soles and a rakishly positioned black beret. With a stolen German semi-automatic rifle slung over his shoulder, he grinned cockily as he told them, in French, that the rest of his Maquis friends had left the village in pursuit of the fleeing Germans and that he had been left behind to act as guide to the first Allied troops to arrive.

      ‘That means us,’ Callaghan said.

      ‘Oui, mon capitaine. I will be proud to serve.’

      ‘Ah, you speak English!’

      Pierre grinned and placed his index finger just above his thumb, leaving a tiny gap between them. ‘Only a little.’ Then, reverting to his own language, he said: ‘But your French, I notice, is excellent.’

      ‘It’s good enough,’ Callaghan said, though he spoke the language well, ‘I’m sure we’ll get by with it. What was it like with the Germans here?’

      Pierre shrugged and stopped grinning. ‘Not good, monsieur, but other villages had it worse. Here, though the Boche commandeered the best houses and took most of the food we grew, they were a disciplined bunch who neither harmed the older folk nor abused the women. They did take the few remaining young men away for forced labour in Germany, but as most of us knew they would do that when they came, we fled into the forest and made our own camps there.’

      ‘And were very successful at harassing the Germans,’ Greaves said diplomatically.

      ‘In a limited way only – at least until the invasion was launched. Before that, we had to be careful about coming out of the forest to attack the Germans, because if we did they would exact some terrible form of vengeance. Sometimes they shot three or four Frenchmen for every German shot by us, or even worse, in one case they herded every member of a village into the church and then set fire to it. So some of them have done terrible things, but here we were lucky.’

      ‘And your fellow Maquisards are now pursuing those same Germans?’

      ‘Sniping on them as they retreat. The main German supply route, along which they are retreating, runs through hilly, densely forested countryside. The Maquis are well protected by the trees and pick them off from the hills. This not only reduces the Germans in number, but also makes them constantly nervous. I wish I was there!’

      ‘You can be,’ Callaghan told him. ‘It’s imperative that we link up with the Maquis and learn all we can about the Germans’ movements and habits. If you act as our guide, you’ll be able to rejoin your companions.’

      ‘Then I’m your man, mon capitaine.’

      ‘Thank you, monsieur.’

      Callaghan glanced across the village square and saw that the SAS troopers not on guard at the edge of the forest encircling the village were sprawled around the fountain in the middle of the square, in the shade of the leafy trees, finishing off their bread and cheese, swigging calvados, and shamelessly flirting with the younger, bolder girls. The girls’ parents were looking on, not offended, simply thrilled to see the British soldiers here, scarcely believing that they were human like other men, and might seduce their daughters. The fountain itself, Callaghan noticed, had been hit by a bomb and was now half demolished and covered with its own rubble and pulverized cement. There was no sign of water.

      ‘When do we move out?’ the young Maquisard asked, removing his semi-automatic weapon from his shoulder and laying it across his thighs, where he lovingly stroked it.

      ‘When we’ve checked that the next village has been cleared, I want you to go with a forward patrol, lead them to the village, see what’s happening, then return here. If we know that the village is cleared, we can move on to link up with the Maquis.’

      ‘Very good,’ Pierre said.

      Nodding at Sergeant Lorrimer, who was kneeling beside the young Frenchman, Callaghan asked: ‘Do you mind doing this?’

      ‘My pleasure,’ Lorrimer replied. ‘That calvados perked me up no end and now I’m raring to go.’

      ‘Then take Pierre with you and try to get back here as soon as possible. Be careful, Sergeant.’

      ‘I will, boss,’ Lorrimer said. ‘OK, Pierre, come with me.’ When Pierre stared uncomprehendingly at him, Lorrimer stood up and jerked his thumb, indicating that the Frenchman should follow him. With Pierre beside him, he walked around the smashed fountain to where Jacko and Rich were sitting on the steps of a house, enjoying themselves by trying to communicate with two giggling girls who spoke almost no English.

      ‘No, you don’t understand,’ Jacko was saying, indicating himself and the dark-haired girl nearest to him by jabbing at her and himself with his index finger. ‘Me…love…you. Me want to get in your knickers.’

      The girl, not understanding what he was saying, started giggling again, though Rich silenced her by saying: ‘That’s bloody rude, Jacko! They’re decent girls.’

      ‘And we’re their conquering heroes, so we might as well…’

      ‘Shut your filthy mouth, Jacko,’ Lorrimer growled as he approached the men, ‘and get to your feet. Before you cause offence here by saying the wrong thing in front of a Frog who knows English, I’m taking you on a little patrol.’

      ‘Aw, come on, Sarge!’ Jacko protested, wiping his wet lips with the back of his hand and waving his bottle of apple brandy. ‘I haven’t finished my lunch!’

      ‘You’ve had enough for now. And if you have any more of that stuff you’ll be even more stupid and loose-tongued than you are normally. So put that bottle down, pick up your rifle, and get on your feet. You, too, Burgess.’

      ‘Very good, Sarge,’ Rich said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and winking at the moon-eyed French girl beside him. ‘Unlike some we could mention, I never complain about being asked to perform my duty. Backbone of the squadron, me, Sarge.’

      ‘And humble with it, I note,’ Lorrimer responded. ‘Now say goodbye to your two little girlfriends and let’s get to the jeep.’

      Rich shyly mumbled his farewell to the girl sitting beside him, but Jacko, СКАЧАТЬ