Young Lions (20 page)

“The Police found you unconscious, Ulrich,” Schuster explained. “You and Hauptsturmfuhrer Zorn here were the only survivors of your patrol.”

“How many men did we lose, sir?” Ulrich asked.

“Ten,” Schuster answered. “The Police found eleven dead terrorists. One of the Policemen was also killed.”

Eleven terrorists? Ulrich thought. But there were twelve prisoners. So one of them was on the run. One of them had escaped. Did Schuster know that one of the prisoners had escaped?

Schuster turned around in his chair to face Zorn. “Before we hear your story, Hauptsturmfuhrer, I want to give you the Police report.” He began to read from a folder that rested on his lap. “The first Police patrol on the scene stated that when they arrived they found a full scale fire fight in progress. One of their men was killed in the crossfire. Forensics found out that he’d been killed by 9mm rounds fired by a Schmessier machine gun. The firing rapidly died out. Another Police patrol then arrived at the scene and the second patrol found you and Ulrich here. The first Police patrol had already left the scene to take their comrade to hospital. S.S. and Army patrols arrived soon afterwards.” Schuster looked up from the folder. “No doubt you were aware that twenty hostages were to be executed on Wednesday.” Zorn and Ulrich nodded their heads. “Unfortunately, I was summoned to London on Tuesday at short notice. I found out about the gun battle and the deaths of the terrorists on Wednesday morning. I tried to get a message to Sturmbannfuhrer Munchausen to free the hostages, but terrorists had cut the telephone lines between London and Hereward and for some reason we couldn’t raise Hereward on the radio,” Schuster explained. “So I sent a dispatch rider. He didn’t get there in time. By this time the crowd had got ugly. Our men opened fire on the crowd. We still don’t know why yet. The Gestapo is still investigating. Publicly, we’re saying that shots were fired from the crowd at our troops.”

“Any idea of casualties, sir?” Zorn asked.

“We found nearly one thousand dead and dying civilians in the Square.”

“My God…” Ulrich whispered in shock, “a massacre…”

“Not a ‘massacre,’ Ulrich!” Schuster slapped his gloves on his thigh, “our men were fired on first, and we reacted in self defense. Get that through your thick skull, Ulrich and you too, Zorn. If you can’t then you’ll found yourself fighting partisans in Poland for the rest of the war faster than you can say bratwurst and sauerkraut!” Schuster threatened.

“Yes, sir,” Ulrich and Zorn replied in unison.

Schuster’s fury subsided as quickly as a spent geyser. “Now gentlemen, as I was saying, the only good thing that has happened in the last few days has been your encounter with the terrorists. The fact that ten of our men were killed is an unexpected bonus…”

Try telling that to their wives and families, Ulrich thought.

“It is the icing on the cake,” Schuster continued. “I can see the headlines in the papers back home right now,” Schuster sketched the words in the air with his hands, “‘Foreign Jewish-Bolshevik terrorist threat to Hereward destroyed: Ten German soldiers killed whilst fighting alongside their British Police comrades. The good citizens of Hereward can sleep safely in their beds once more’ Brothers-in-arms. Racial unity. That sort of thing. You get the idea.” Schuster was smiling like a Cheshire cat who’d got the cream. “You’ll both be mentioned by name of course, as the two officers who destroyed the terrorists. Heroically wounded in the attempt. You’ll be famous both here and at home. I’ve recommended you both for the Iron Cross First Class.” Schuster went on. “There’ll be a medal presentation ceremony in the Square as soon as you’re released from hospital. The whole Brigade will be there and there’ll be top brass up from London as well. Newspaper reporters, photographers, the lot. Also…” Schuster wanted to keep on the roll; “Sturmbannfuhrer Munchausen blew his head off when he read the dispatch rider’s order to free the hostages so I have a vacancy on my staff.” Schuster looked directly at Zorn. “Now, what is your version of events, Hauptsturmfuhrer?”

“Exactly the same as Obersturmfuhrer Ulrich’s, sir,” Zorn confirmed confidently.

“Hallo, Dickey,” Daylesford said, extending his right hand. “How are tricks?”

“Can’t complain, Johnny,” Hook said as he shook his friend’s hand.

“How are they treating you?” Daylesford asked.

“To be honest, Johnny, I don’t know who’s worse: the Huns or my trainers here,” Hook answered.

“They mean well, Dickey,” Daylesford assured him.

“They mean to kill me, Johnny. That’s what they mean to do,” Hook said only half joking.

Daylesford steered Hook back towards the Alligin Hotel on the northern shore of Loch Torridon which served as the Training Centre for the Special Operation Executive. He only started to speak when he was certain that he was well out of earshot of any potential eavesdroppers. “Listen, old boy, something’s come up. Ideally, we’d like to train you here for six weeks, but I’m afraid that that’s not going to be possible. Your trainers have said that it will take at least another two weeks to give you the minimum amount of training.” Daylesford paused to let the gravity of what he was saying sink in. “ I’ve given them a week to get you ready.” Daylesford turned to face Hook. “Dickey. Understand that with only two weeks intensive training you will only have a 50-50 chance of surviving at best.

Hook nodded.

“But the truth is that we need you down south.”

Hook put his hand on Daylesford’s arm. “I understand, Johnny. I’ve never had as good odds in my life. What was our life expectancy as young officers in the trenches? Six weeks?”

“Two weeks,” Daylesford corrected him.

“Exactly.” Hook squeezed Daylesford’s shoulder. “Anyway, I like a challenge.”

During the week following ‘Bloody Wednesday’ there were general strikes in Liverpool, Manchester and Leeds. There were riots in Coventry, Cambridge and York. German Navy warships were sabotaged and sunk in Plymouth, King’s Lynn and Bristol. Luftwaffe aeroplanes were firebombed in Ripon, Ely and Southampton. There were mass demonstrations against Sir Oswald Mosley’s puppet government in Cheltenham. Italian Occupation troops refused to open fire on protestors in Canterbury. There was a mass break out from a Prisoner-of-War camp for French soldiers in Dover.

Traitors and collaborators were a main target for the Resistance forces. In response to these attacks, Brigadefuhreur Schuster intensified his ‘Specials’ program. Special Constabulary units were established in all major towns and cities. Both the Police and the Specials were to be equipped with weapons supplied by the S.S. Sir Oswald Mosley, Prime Minister of the Government of National Unity, asked for permission to raise his own paramilitary forces to be used for internal defense and security against people he described as “warmongering Jewish-Bolshevik gangsters.” The German occupation authorities in London eagerly grasped the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone: they would be able to solve their manpower shortage crisis on the one hand and on the other hand they would be able to achieve their long term aim of setting Englishmen against Englishmen. Divide and conquer. It had worked in Occupied Europe; the Germans were confidant that it would work in Occupied Britain.

On February First, Mosley announced the creation of “The Legion of Saint George.” Major-General J.F.C. Fuller, Mosley’s pre-War Military Advisor, was named Commanding Officer of the Legion.

Sam and Alan continued with their studies during the day at St. John’s Academy and with their duties once per week with the Specials. Sergeant Hitch and Special P.C. Linsdell were buried in Hereward Cemetery in a joint ceremony. Family, friends, students and every single Special and Policeman who was not on duty attended the funerals. Bishop Rathdowne led the service and stressed the virtues of love, devotion, duty and sacrifice.

The following day Mayor Brunswick publicly presented Alan with a Police Medal for Gallantry in the Town Hall. Chief Inspector Brown and Inspector Mason were also there. All flashing white teeth and beaming smiles over Golden Boy. More accurately, Superintendent Brown and Chief Inspector Mason. Schuster had made a recommendation to S.S. headquarters in London that Scotland Yard should be ‘persuaded’ to promote Brown and Mason as a result of their sterling contribution to the fight against terrorism. Their promotions would also show that collaboration, if not crime, paid.

Ansett and Sam also attended the ceremony. Alan had been awarded the medal because he had shot the fire bomber, David Jones, who had shot Sergeant Hitch. Or so the World thought. Alan had never admitted that it was he who had killed Hitch and not Jones who had killed him. Alan had never admitted that he had killed both of them to anyone, but Ansett had put two and two together. Alan had shot Hitch because he had gathered proof that Sam was also an arsonist. Alan had killed Hitch to protect Sam. Sam seemed oblivious to all of Alan’s Machiavellian machinations. Or perhaps Sam was reluctant to give thanks where thanks were due.

Chapter Sixteen
 

The R.A.F. Special Duties Squadron Lysander flew over the Scottish border into England. The pilot flew low and hugged the ground, ducking and diving between houses, hedges and stonewalls in order to evade enemy radar.

The S.O.E. secret agent had been tasked with re-establishing contact with any Auxiliary Units of the British Resistance which had become activated when the Germans had invaded. The units had been divided into three separate groups:-fighting groups, intelligence groups and communication groups. Each group acted independently without physical contact with other groups and without the knowledge of the whereabouts or makeup of the other groups.

Edinburgh had given specific coded instructions to each group to carry out various tasks during the ‘Bloody Wednesday’ uprisings in order to discover which groups had survived the invasion and were still active or could be activated. For example, one fighting unit in Southampton had been ordered to attack an airfield. An attack on an airfield had taken place in Southampton so Edinburgh concluded that the unit was still active. Another fighting unit in Southampton had been ordered to attack harbour and dock facilities. This attack had not taken place so Edinburgh concluded that the unit had either been destroyed or, for whatever reason, was inactive.

The agent’s primary mission was fourfold:-to secure lines of communication between Edinburgh and active Auxiliary Units; to ‘persuade’ inactive units to reactivate; to recruit new members for existing units and to establish brand new units. All of the agent’s activities were confined to South-East England. The agent’s secondary mission was to bring a message of hope from the Free North to the Occupied South. To let his fellow countrymen and countrywomen know that all was not lost, that Britain may have lost the battle, but they had not lost the War, Britain was down, but not out and Resistance and the struggle would continue until liberation and final victory.

The Lysander landed in the middle of the night on a farmer’s field to the south of the Cathedral city of Ely that was situated ten minutes by train north of Hereward. The family who had owned the land had fled and the farmhouse lay deserted. The agent code named Ivanhoe jumped out of the aeroplane and was met by three members of an Ely Auxiliary Fighting Unit. The group walked through the countryside to another farmhouse where Ivanhoe and the Resistance fighters ate a delicious meal of rabbit stew.

During the meal the unit leader gave Ivanhoe a full situation report. When ‘Bloody Wednesday’ took place in neighbouring Hereward, it was if dam burst. Months and months of pent up anger and hatred poured out into the open. A peaceful candlelit procession through the town rapidly escalated into a full scale riot when the marchers refused to disperse when ordered do so, first by the Police and then by the German Army. Squadrons of German cavalrymen on giant warhorses charged the crowd knee-to – knee and cut and slashed at the defensenseless men, women and children. The casualties ran into the hundreds. The next day there was a general strike in Ely. Troops tried to force shops to open and a butcher was bludgeoned and battered to death with rifle butts when he refused to comply. On the following day, isolated groups of Germans were attacked in the streets. The next day, a German soldier was chased and captured by a mob. They lynched him from the nearest lamppost. The Germans had reacted ruthlessly. They had picked up twenty random men and women from the streets and had hung them that evening in the Market Square.

Ivanhoe said goodbye to the Ely Resistance group on the outskirts of the city. From here on in, he was on his own. Ivanhoe traveled on the train and walked through the streets of Hereward without a care in the world as if he was walking home from work. Although it was only five o’clock, people were hurrying home. The curfew began at 7 p.m. and the deadline was rigorously enforced.

Ivanhoe crossed the street and walked towards his contacts who were waiting, as arranged, beneath a lamppost. They heard him coming and turned his way. He whistled the tune that accompanied Gilbert and Sullivan’s ‘Pirates of Penzance’ Policeman song, “When Constabulary duties to be done, to be done…” the two Specials finished the second part of the password: one of them whistled “A Policeman’s lot is not a happy one, happy one.”

“That’s my favourite Gilbert and Sullivan.” Ivanhoe said.

“I prefer the ‘Mikado,’” one of the Specials returned.

Ivanhoe breathed out a sigh of relief. “Ivanhoe,” he said.

“Batman,” the Special said. “And this is Robin.” He pointed to his companion. His companion gave him a ‘I can’t believe you just said that’ look.

“Take me to the gates of St. John’s Academy,” He ordered. Ivanhoe knew fine well where the gates were. After all, he had been teaching there since he finished his teacher training in the twenties. But he had to pretend that he had never visited Hereward before.

“Ivanhoe,” Batman said. “Written by Sir Walter Scott.”

“Have you read it?” Ivanhoe asked.

Batman nodded. “The most boring book that I’ve ever read.”