Uncommon Enemy (26 page)

Gradually the sounds faded but at least twenty minutes elapsed before either of them in whispered conversation, agreed to confirm that the enemy had moved on. Cautiously Carol began to move the branches aside, pausing every few seconds to listen. Then, putting her head through the gap she slowly peered round. Nothing appeared to be moving. Slowly she eased herself outside the cave and crouched by the entrance. A warning cry and a flutter of wings accompanied the hasty departure of a tui but the brief noise elicited no response.

“Stuart,” she said in a low voice, “I think it’s safe.”

“OK. Let me have a look.”

He moved slowly forward past her and looked out at the silent bush.

“Come on,” he said, moving forward.

He cautiously stepped outside the cave and stood stock still, straining for any unnatural sounds.

“I think it’s all clear.”

“Now what?” she asked.

“They’re obviously combing this area and have key spots under surveillance which is probably why Geoff copped it. I think our only course of action is to follow the soldiers at a distance. They’re unlikely to retrace their footsteps without good reason.”

“But where are we heading?” asked Carol.

“The farmhouse, the same direction as they seem to be heading. Let’s hope that they’ll continue to assume that it’s an ordinary farm going about its normal business.” The tone of his voice showed that the ordeal in the recesses of the cave and the continuing pain in his leg had taken its toll. “If we find it we’ll check it out very carefully and then, when the time is right, make contact.”

She shrugged. “We’ve not much choice. But we’ll have to be extra wary.”

More slowly than before, they began to move forward. For a time the bush track remained unchanged but then suddenly it widened into two paths, the smaller one of which went off at a tangent. A brief inspection of the damp ground showed that the soldiers had continued along the main section.

“How about a change of plans,” suggested Carol. She indicated the smaller track. “This one could take us to the edge of the bush from where we can check our position. If it shows us nothing we can always come back and resume our journey on the original track.”

Stuart nodded his agreement. His armpit was becoming chafed and his leg was throbbing painfully. Any chance, however slight, of spotting the farmhouse was worth a change of plan. His hopes lifted a little when they began to see a thinning of the bush and in front of them a glimpse of a large paddock stretching up a long slope. Mindful of Geoff’s fate, near the edge of the clearing they both lay flat and pausing frequently, slowly slithered their way forward.

Stopping behind a large tree at the edge of the clearing they paused, listening. On Stuart’s nod they cautiously stood up. Carol pointed with her chin.

“Look. A road. Recognize it?”

Stuart shook his head. “Too far away. But that big slope looks a little familiar.”

The grass in the paddock was long and after a quick discussion they decided to move slowly through it to the summit of the slope from where they might be able to gain a more accurate view of their position.

Their approach, in a series of low, slow movements, took longer than expected but eventually they reached the top and lay there panting from their efforts. The sun, which had been a welcome relief after the dampness of the bush, was now causing them both to sweat uncomfortably.

“OK,” said Stuart. “So far so good. But we can’t lie here forever. Can you get up slowly and see if you recognize any landmarks? Keep your Sten at the ready.”

“As always,” she replied beginning to slowly rise. “Just wish we knew-----.”

From the base of the slope the shouted orders followed by the sound of a barking dog froze the words in her mouth.

“Los! Los! Vorwarts! Beeilt euch!”

The excited barking of the dog blended with the cocking of machine pistols and the rapid booted footsteps.

Carol flung herself on the earth next to Stuart.

“Schmeissers!” he muttered. “Bastards. A quick burst! Straight and fast! On my command…”

A helmet appeared over the crest.

The intense pain caused him to cry out. Confused voices swirled around him during his brief periods of consciousness and he was aware of being jolted up and down and pulled and pushed by many hands. At other times he woke with the sweat pouring from him and was vaguely conscious of soft voices and hands providing him with cool water. Yet, although the bouts of pain at times seemed to recede, every time he moved or was moved by others, piercing spasms rapidly traversed every part of his body.

Voices and images dissolved in ever-changing patterns. Carol’s hands reaching out to sooth his brow, his mother reprimanding him for his foolhardiness, faces of leering German officers and New Order soldiers with Kiwi accents, smiling benignly at him and calling him ‘mate’. The face of Hamish Beavis appeared in various guises, sneering menacingly or standing with an arm around Carol gloating with triumph. Other times he found himself stumbling and falling over the prone bloodied bodies of Boys Brigade youths, who sat upright and shouted abuse. New Order soldiers whose bodies, cut to pieces by machine-gun fire suddenly came together and leapt to their feet, causing him to grope for this Sten gun. The images abruptly vanished and he was in his office at university, calmly poring over his books. Professor Sterling entered, smiled, and was about to speak when he was suddenly seized and pulled back by unseen hands obeying shouted orders. Abruptly Stuart found himself in the university quad. Bleeding students sprawled on the ground stretching out their arms to him, pleading for assistance. A young woman her face streaked with blood rose from the group. She staggered towards him and seizing him by the shoulders began to shout his name.

“Stuart! Stuart!”

He awoke with a jolt and found himself staring into the eyes of Carol. She had him by the shoulders and was gently shaking him.

“Stuart, darling.” Her voice was calmer. “It’s me. It’s me! Carol! Everything’s OK! You’ve been really sick. Some sort of fever. But we think the worst is over.” She held out a glass of water. “Here. Drink this.”

His eyes fixed upon hers, expecting them to disappear at any moment and to be replaced with some hideous image of violence and death. Instead she stayed in his vision, smiling gently and talking quietly to him.

He sipped the water gratefully and then shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t understand. We were both shot weren’t we?”

“No, darling, you were wounded in the shoulder and I twisted my ankle badly. The soldiers surrounded us and I thought we were done for. But remember how you thought that slope looked familiar?”

“Yes.”

“It was the one by the old farmhouse where we do our weapons training. Ian and some of the others were checking their weapons when they heard the firing. Just as the soldiers surrounded us our boys came over the hill, caught the Blitzkrieg Boys by surprise and wiped out the ones that we hadn’t killed.”

“God! Then what happened?”

“They managed to carry both of us to the truck and drove back to the farmhouse. They got us down here in the Albany Ritz with a few minutes to spare. When the New Order troops arrived on a house-to-house, everything was normal. Barbara and Lisa were in the kitchen preparing the evening meal; Tom and Jason were out milking the house cows. They all admitted that they had heard shots in the distance, hoped nobody had been hurt and reiterated their support for the New Order due to the excellent prices the farmers were getting for wool, meat and butter.”

“Were the soldiers convinced?” asked Stuart.

“Apparently. A couple of them came into the woolshed. We heard them walking about above us and we were worried that you’d start moaning or shouting, but Lisa had given you painkiller injections and you stayed sound asleep. Our chaps had also managed to load all the soldiers’ bodies on the truck and hide their weapons. It also rained heavily for most of that night so all signs of the skirmish were obliterated. Since then planes have flown over occasionally, and some soldiers came back sniffing around briefly a couple of days ago. Consequently we’ve had to lie low down here but Tony and Jason have continued to go into the village for supplies as usual.”

“Why haven’t the Krauts gone on the rampage arresting and shooting hostages?”

“From what we can gather, they’re in a difficult situation. They need the populace on their side and they particularly need the farmers to keep producing for the Russian war effort. They’re worried about having to cope with widespread rebellion, sabotage and civil disobedience. We think there’s a major dispute between the German’s two main factions, one led by Governor von Stauffenberg who wants the long term goal of winning hearts and minds and the other by the Gestapo who want swift and brutal reprisals.”

“Who’s winning?”

“No idea.” Tony had entered the cubicle and was standing in front of the bed. “Hopefully we are, in the end.”

He held out his hand.

“You’ve had a rough time, mate. Great to see you sitting up and talking sense for a change.”

“Thanks. Obviously somebody’s been taking care of me and I’m really grateful.”

Tony smiled. “You took one in the shoulder but Lisa said there’s been no infection. The bone is healing nicely and she thinks you will be as right as rain in about a month. Your leg’s also doing well.”

“She’s great.”

Tony smiled. “Yea. Her knowledge about such things has been invaluable. And she’s also been ably assisted by the two German girls.”

“Are they settling in OK?”

“Yea. Suppose so.” He grinned wryly. “I think some of the group is still coming to terms with providing refuge for a couple of Germans. The girls’ prime responsibility has been keeping an eye on the professor who’s still pretty crook, and they’ve done that well. And they were also keen to help out with looking after you.”

“I look forward to thanking them.”

“Sure. But the person you should really thank is this little lady here. She has been at your side night and day, soothing you, bathing you and talking to you as you thrashed about like a bloody Marlin on the end of a long line!”

“Oh, Tony you exaggerate,” smiled Carol. “We agreed at the beginning that we would always be there to support each other.” Smiling at Stuart she reached for his hand.

Tony grinned again at Stuart. “Great to see you on the road to recovery, mate. We’ll bring you upstairs later when the sun’s gone down and you can catch up on all the news.”

Reaching out he shook Stuart’s hand warmly and left as Stuart and Carol turned back towards each other.

After the evening meal it was decided that a celebration was in order. A small beer ration was brought into the woolshed, enough for two glasses per person, and a windup gramophone placed carefully on a table in the corner. Additional personnel were posted on sentry duty while the rest of the group celebrated not only the success of their rescue mission but Stuart’s initial recovery.

John had been assigned the task of keeping the gramophone supplied with a steady stream of 78 records that, although in some cases scratchy and prone to jump the grooves, added considerably to the party atmosphere. As the evening wore on, Stuart and Carol remained relaxed in a corner of the woolshed catching up on the news. They both noticed that in another corner Brendan and Susan were engaged in a tense conversation.

“What do you think’s bothering those two?” asked Carol.

Stuart shrugged. “Dunno.”

“So why do they both keep looking at the two German women?”

Abruptly Stuart held up his hand.

“Listen.”

Instantly on the alert, Carol sat bolt upright.

“It’s OK,” laughed Stuart. “John’s playing my favourite melody; the W.C.Handy classic The St Louis Blues.” He got cautiously to his feet, and bowed exaggeratedly to Carol. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, ma’am?”

“Are you sure you can manage, Stuart?”

“Quite sure.”

“Then, sir, I accept your invitation.” Taking his outstretched hand she got to her feet and drew him close.

“What about your leg?” she asked.

“It’ll be OK if we take it easy.”

Slowly they began to dance to the music and he smiled down at her.

“I owe you my life, Carol.”

She smiled. “The others helped too. And, in any case, we both agreed.”

“To do what?”

“To look after each other.”

Reaching up she kissed him slowly as they continued to move gently with the music. 

“How are you feeling, sir?” Professor Sterling lifted his head slightly from the pillow as Stuart and Brendan entered hiscubicle.

“Not too bad under the circumstances,” he replied.

Stuart tried not to gasp at the weakness in the professor’s voice. His pallor and the thin film of sweat across the top of his head added to the impression of a man who was having difficulty finding the road to recovery. Stuart pulled two wooden apple boxes from the corner and flipped them on their sides. Both young men sat down.

“If you’re not well enough-----,” began Brendan.

The professor’s right hand appeared from under the two grey army blankets and waved impatiently.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Delighted to see you both.” He looked at Stuart. “You’ve been having a pretty rough time too, they tell me.”

“Yes, sir - my own fault, really. I was just so cocky after the raid on the Albany library that I got careless. Nearly cost me my life.” He looked at his mentor and then asked, “How about you, sir?”

Sterling sighed and lay staring at the ceiling for a moment. “Not too good, I’m afraid. When I was taken in for questioning,” he gave a cynical grunt, “they hit me repeatedly in the stomach. When I fell to the floor, they then resorted to the time - honoured tactic of putting the boot in. Not very imaginative but very painful.”

“Bastards,” muttered Brendan. “What were they trying to do? Get some sort of information from you?”

“Strangely enough, I’m not sure if they knew themselves. I think it was more a matter of intimidation than extracting any hard information.”

“So, why did they decide to let you go home?”

“Probably when they realized that there wasn’t much point in beating me any more. I was in a pretty bad way and kept passing out. I do remember at one point regaining consciousness and hearing an argument going on between the Germans and a couple of the New Zealanders. The latter were expressing reservations at my continued ill treatment.”

“Huh,” grunted Stuart. “Big of them.”

“Well, they may have won the day because the following morning I was taken home. Don’t remember much. I was fairly heavily drugged.”

“To ease the pain?”

“Maybe, Stuart, or to keep me docile. They probably intended using me as an example to intimidate my academic colleagues.” He sighed heavily. “Susan was horrified when she saw me but I urged her to get away before she was next on the list.”

“She hated leaving you, sir,” said Brendan.

The professor nodded slowly. “Yes, I know.” He looked at Brendan. “She means a lot to me, young man. I hope you’re taking good care of her.”

Brendan shifted awkwardly and folded his arms. “Of course, Professor.”

Sensing the awkwardness, Stuart moved quickly to change the subject.

“What impression did you get of Sophie and Gretchen, sir?”

“Limited, I’m afraid. They spoke German most of the time. Sophie tried her English out on me when the German doctor wasn’t around but even then I think I was heavily doped up.” He smiled wanly. “Pretty girls, though. Especially the blonde. What do you think, Brendan?”

“Er, yes sir. You seem to be in good hands with both of them. And they’re keen to improve their English. Sophie’s is pretty good but Gretchen needs more assistance. I’m the only fluent German speaker in the place and therefore----.”

“It’s alright, young man,” smiled Sterling. “You don’t have to justify yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”

“No, sir, I wasn’t-----,” began Brendan when Stuart touched him on the arm. The professor had already fallen asleep.