Page 30 of Love in the Shadows

“The station will not be manned. There will be two guards at the front, the centre and the rear of the train, and one with the driver. We should aim to disable the guards if we can. Tie them up, throw them in one of the wagons. Do whatever we can to minimise reprisals.”

“You’re being too soft,” Bertrand said. “We have to shoot them before they shoot us.”

Fabienne clenched her teeth. His disregard for the innocent victims who would suffer curdled her blood. It wasn’t easy striking a balance, and if they could kill every German this side of the border in one hit, she would be the first to jump at the chance. But they had to be more strategic. They would have enough problems helping the Jewish prisoners escape, and they would all suffer in one way or another because of the disruption to supply routes. Worse still, if they got caught, they too would be executed.

She stared directly at Bertrand. “Are you willing to take responsibility for the people they murder because you killed a German?” she asked. He lowered his head.

She looked at each man in the room as she spoke. “And if they shoot your wife, your mother, your children in response? If we have a chance to liberate the prisoners without killing the guards, we will do so. We cannot afford to be reckless.”

The men nodded. All except Bertrand.

She understood the anger that burned inside him, she felt the same way about the loss of her parents and aunt and uncle, and about the death of people she’d once called friends, but as leaders in the Resistance they had to consider the bigger picture. Their actions would help secure the liberation of France, and when that day came, she wanted as many people as possible to be there to celebrate. “Bertrand, you will take the bridge,” she said. “I’ll take the assault at the station.”

She indicated for two men to work with Bertrand. The others would handle the train with her. “My team will meet outside the post office at ten-forty. From there, we will make our way along the track and hide in the shadows. We will approach the train from the non-station side. Each of you must bring as many armed men as you can.”

“What is the plan to get these people to safety?” a man asked.

“We have to come up with one,” she said.

Bertrand’s eyes widened. “We have no way of moving that many people at the same time. It would be impossible.”

The same thoughts had troubled Fabienne. “I know. We have to direct them to head south across the fields and farm roads, but not all in the same direction at the same time. We need to get word to the farmers to open their barns and to our colleagues in the villages to provide water and as much food as they can spare.” She hated that it was the best they could do. Moving people using the farm trucks across fields would speed up their escape, but moving so many people by road was fraught with difficulties. Let alone with papers identifying them as Jewish.

“It’s suicide,” a man said.

Fabienne stared at him. “It’s the only chance they have, so let’s start talking to our friends. We will save as many as we can.”

The smoke was the only thing that moved in the silence that fell inside the room.

Eventually, she looked towards Bertrand. “The bridge needs to be down by eleven forty-five, d’accord?”

“Je sais.” Bertrand nodded, acknowledged his team, and left the room.

She walked to her van and started home, her thoughts consumed by the layout of the station and the best positions for taking down the guards without having to shoot them, while knowing Bertrand was right. She was being ideological to think she could minimise reprisals. It would be what it would be.

A mile outside of town, she was brought to a stop by a German military police patrol. She wound down the window, reached for her documents in the glove compartment, and handed them to a guard she didn’t recognise.

He studied the papers by torchlight. “What are you doing breaking curfew, Fraulein Brun?” He shone the torch into her face, and she turned away. Fuck. It didn’t matter that it was only a few minutes beyond ten p.m. She could be arrested – or worst still, shot on the spot – depending on the mind of the guard.

“I was making deliveries, Herr Oberleutnant.” She kept her head down.

“It’s very late for that.” He studied her papers again.

“I had a flat tyre and had to change it. My apologies, Oberleutnant.”

“She got a flat tyre,” he said to the others, and laughed. “You expect me to believe you? You see, we have a theory that people out late at night are involved in illegal activities. The curfew prevents these people from operating. Are you one of these people, Fraulein?” He gripped the handle of his pistol, though kept the weapon holstered at his side.

Her heart thundered. “I own the dairy farm, Herr Oberleutnant. I was taking cheese to the distribution centre for your men – and then on the way back, the tyre problem. Working in the dark, alone, as a woman. It is not easy.” The storage warehouses would be closed now. Still, she hoped he wouldn’t try to corroborate her story.

“Fraulein Brun, I think you know that we own everything now.” He grinned, revealing a gold molar tooth. “Now open the back doors.”

She cut the engine and got out of the van. She was shoved forward by the butt of a rifle jabbed hard into her back. She stumbled, pain coursing up her spine, and opened the rear doors. The pallets and churns hadn’t shifted so the trap door was still hidden. She held her breath as he shone a torch around the space, praying he wouldn’t move anything.

“What’s in those?” He flashed the light at the churns.

“They are empty, Oberleutnant. They get filled again tomorrow.”

He indicated for the soldier to get into the van. “Check inside.” He waited for the soldier to confirm.

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