For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.

Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.

And, so, it continues…

——

SS Standartenfuhrer Wilhelm Schmidt and his men were looking forward to some rest and recreation, after they completed one small but vitally important job for the Reichsfuhrer: retrieve a traitor named Meyer and bring him back to Berlin so an example could be made of him to deter others.

A simple job, several days at best, very much a holiday in itself after several long years in various campaigns.

He always wanted to visit Italy and particularly Tuscany, and they would be staying in a castle, with, he had been told, a very refined wine cellar.

He had also been told there was a possibility that the column might be attacked on its way to the castle, and he had all of his men on high alert.  He was almost disappointed nothing happened.  He didn’t think it would.  Few resistance fighters would hardly go up against the might of a panzer, and his crack troops.

He’d said as much to the castle commander, a double agent by the name of Wallace, known as British to the British and German to the high command.  Schmidt had no interest in double agents, or agents of any kind, along with the intelligence services or the Gestapo for that matter.  He was here for the traitor and then gone.

They made it without incident, the main gates opened for their arrival, then closed after the panzer and trucks were parked inside.

Wallace was waiting for him.

Salutes, then, “No trouble along the way?”

“No.  Should there be?  I know we were warned, but all we saw were war-weary Italian women and children, and a few old men.”

“The resistance is out there, led by an Englishman by the name of Atherton.  I wouldn’t underestimate him and the few resistance left.”

Schmidt thought Wallace looked rattled, a man at the end of his tether.  He’d seen quite a few like him, too long at the front, jumping at shadows.

“It won’t be a problem.  I’ll send out a squad of 10 and they’ll mop up anyone left.  They’re probably hiding in the woods, or, if they saw the tank, shaking in their boots.  Chances are they will have left if they had any sense.”

Wallace hated arrogance, and Schmidt had it in spades.  There would be little point telling him that this wasn’t a battlefield, but guerilla warfare against an enemy on their home ground.  The fact Jackerby had not come back, or Fernando and his men told him Atherton was picking them off, one by one, if they left the castle.

If Schmidt wanted to go wandering around outside, that was his choice.  Wallace was staying inside and waiting until they mounted an attack.  Or for them to realise it was going to be a stalemate.  He was now no longer interested in Meyer, that was Schmidt’s problem.

Schmidt selected 9 soldiers and put his second in command in charge of them with very specific orders.  If anything, other than one of their men moved, shoot it.  He did not want prisoners.

The rest of the men were sent to the makeshift barracks, a building that was used as a chapel not far from where the tank and trucks were parked.  The rest of the castle’s men were also there, except for those on guard duty on the ramparts, and in the cellars where there were entrances from outside.

Not that anyone could get through the iron gates that were currently locked.  Atherton and whomever he had with him would not be gaining entrance to the castle from below, and those on the ramparts would pick them off long before they reached the main gate, or the walls.

At strategic points on the rampart, machine guns had been set up, and a box or two of hand grenades were available.  Wallace was fairly confident there was nowhere where Atherton could gain access, despite his clandestine exploration of the castle when he first arrived.

Wallace personally checked the sentry points and alertness of the guards.

Then he went down to the cellar and the gate where the soldiers involved in what was now called ‘operation mop-up’ were waiting for darkness to fall before leaving.

Wallace came down to see them leave, not surprised by the buoyed spirits and camaraderie of men who had been working together for a long time.  He envied them.  With the sort of work he and the few members of his team did, there was no time for any bonding, and each lived with the fact that they could not really trust anyone, even those they worked with.

Then, in a matter of minutes, in almost silence, they were gone, and the gate was locked.  With any luck, the area would be cleared of resistance and locked down in preparation for the arrival of Meyer.  His handler would be captured and would inform them of the pipeline further up the chain of command, and then he could put an end to the traitors escaping.

With any luck, he might still get back to Germany as a hero.

——-

© Charles Heath 2020-2023

For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.

Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.

And, so, it continues…

——

One of the sentries came running into the church, out of breath and clearly agitated.

Blinky looked at him.  “What is it, man?”

“The reinforcements, sir.”

“Theirs or ours?”

“German.  Staff car, a panzer, and two trucks with soldiers.

He looked at me.  “That’s a little over the top, or have you been more of a pest than usual?”  He sighed.  “How many men are in the castle”

“Twenty-plus, but this is not unexpected, just a little sooner than I was told it might happen.  it simply means they know Meyer is coming.”

“This adds what, another twenty or thirty, and a tank.  I mean, seriously, a tank.  Why?”

“I think the target that we’re here to rescue is far more important than we’re being told.  If he’s part of the V2 rocket program or just rockets in general, what does that suggest to you?”

I had an idea, but I hadn’t really thought too much about it.  But somewhere in my subconscious there had been a movie, rather far-fetched when I saw it, Flash Gordon, a man who flies a rocket into outer space.

No one really believed it was possible, that it was akin to a modern-day fairy tale.  Could it be possible that this one man, Meyer, could make that fairy tale become true?

Was Hitler’s eventual plan to send rockets into space?  He had a chap called Von Braun, why would it matter about Meyer?  Perhaps he wasn’t willing to share this fantastic knowledge.

“You’re talking impossible stuff.  I’m guessing he knows where the rocket factories are, so we can bomb them.  I’d want to stop someone with that knowledge, at any cost.  I guess we’re now going to take out a panzer and kill a few more enemy soldiers.  It might be why we came with explosive.”

Why did it not surprise me that someone knew more than they were letting on?

“Where are they headed, Sarge?”

“The castle.”

“Then we’re going to have to move on them before they get out and about.  A panzer can do some serious damage.  They’ll no doubt park it in the castle walls, so we’re going to need a way in, and out.”

“Got just the man.  In the meantime, Sarge, follow them just to make sure they are going to the castle.”

“Sir.”

…

I searched the compound for Carlo but he had gone missing.  It didn’t take much to guess where he had gone.  I didn’t think he believed he could take on the whole German army on his own, but he would have heard about the new arrivals and gone to have a look where they ended up himself.

Since he knew the other entrances to the castle that none of us did. He would have much better access to the inside than any of us, and no doubt without the fear of being caught.

He was nowhere to be found, though one of Blinky’s soldiers said that he had seen Carlo leaving and thought it wise not to ask him where he was going.

It wasn’t until several hours later, as darkness fell, that both he and the soldier sent to follow the new arrivals, returned together.

Blinky called a conference, it was time to make a plan of attack.

The soldier reported the new arrivals had gone to the castle, in the main gate, and where to beyond that he couldn’t tell.  They closed the gate, and he wasn’t following them in.

Carlo had more information because he had managed to get inside.

He’d even drawn a rough map of the castle and surrounding grounds.  There were a series of lines drawn on that map, and it turned out, Carlo said, these were the drainage tunnels under the castle.

I was surprised to see that the tunnel I had tried to escape in however many days ago that was, was part of that drainage system.

As much as I was equally surprised that the drainage tunnels were big enough to have men walking in, and that they were a much more efficient manner to travel within the castle, via under the castle, useful no doubt in times of battles between the warring Italian cities.

The map also showed four underground entrances, three of which I knew about, the other I should have guessed because they would not have left one direction without an exit.  The reason why no one knew about it was because it looked like the tunnel had collapsed and blocked the way.

That, Carlo said, was just an illusion.

That was going t be our way in.

Our force was small, five soldiers, myself, Enrico and Carlo, and two Resistance defectors.  10 against fifty battle-hardened soldiers.  Of course, Carlo being Carlo said that would not be a problem,. A statement I took with a grain of salt until he said, “We have the means to even the odds.”

He had our undivided attention.

“We use the drains to create a diversion.  The fools have parked their tank and trucks over the drains.  You have brought explosives with timers?”  Carlo looked at Blinky.

“We did.  It was an afterthought.  Thompson thought you might find a use for them.”

“Good.  You have an expert?”

One of the soldiers, Corporal Spellman, put his hand up.  “Tell me where to put them and I’ll make them go boom.”

“You come with me now,” Carlo said to Spellman. “We come back in an hour, maybe a little more, so be ready to leave.”

——-

© Charles Heath 2020-2023