Night of Flames: A Novel of World War II (40 page)

“Pardon me, the CEP?” Jan asked.

“The Circular Error Probable, the accuracy. That’s the only good news, I’m afraid. The bloody thing’s not very accurate. But I’m sure their people are working on that. They’re quite good, you know.”

“Well, there you have it,” Whitehall said.

The three men sat in silence for a moment, before Jan spoke up. “Mr.

Fletcher, I understand that British anti-aircraft batteries have been successful in shooting down a high percentage of the V-1s and that RAF fi ghter planes have been able to take them out as well. What is your defense against the V-2?”

Fletcher glanced at Whitehall then picked up the paper and placed it back in the briefcase. He folded his hands on his lap and stared down at the table.

Whitehall stood up, signaling the meeting was over. He looked at Jan.

“Colonel, I understand that you’ve been re-assigned to the Polish First Armored Division and that you’re shipping out for France in a few days.”

“That’s right,” Jan replied.

Whitehall stepped around the table and extended his hand. “Kill the fucking Krauts, Colonel. Help us win this war as quickly as possible. There’s no defense against this goddamn thing. If they improve its accuracy before we get to Germany, we’re done for.”

Chapter 54

By the fi

rst of August, fewer than a thousand prisoners remained in the rat-infested, disease-ridden camp at Drancy. Word had spread that the fi nal train was due any day to collect the last of the survivors and haul them to the death camps in Poland.

Anna sat on the dirt fl oor, leaning against the clammy block wall in the cellar of her building listening to the sounds coming from the courtyard. In the nearly two months she had spent in this hellhole there had never been this much activity in the afternoon. At Drancy, things always seemed to happen in the morning—or the middle of the night.

Inbound trains loaded with Jews always arrived in the morning. The routine never varied. Feldgendarmes separated the men and women, clubbing to the ground anyone who resisted. Old people and any who appeared fee-ble were shoved off to the side and herded back to the boxcars for immediate transport.

Then the children were taken away, torn from their mothers’ arms and hauled off to a separate building. The wailing of distraught mothers and the screaming of terrifi ed children was more than Anna could bear. She had to keep her sanity. She had stopped watching.

The trains sat on the siding all day, a long string of empty boxcars, in plain view, as a sadistic reminder of what would happen to hundreds of unfortunate souls that night. It was almost impossible to sleep during the long, hot nights, not only because of the cramped and foul-smelling quarters into which they had been jammed like so many hogs, but mostly out of fear and anticipation that this might be the night they were chosen.

272

Douglas W. Jacobson

The sounds in the night were paralyzing: stomping boots, barking dogs, Feldgendarmes shouting in guttural German, women wailing. In an hour it was over, with only the sound of a chugging locomotive receding into the distance.

But this afternoon was different. The routine changed, and a fl urry of activity broke out in the squalid camp. German army trucks and black motorcars roared into the courtyard. Wehrmacht soldiers jumped out of the trucks, shouting orders.

The remaining prisoners who could still walk were rounded up and forced into the cellar of the building where they sat, jammed elbow to elbow with scarcely enough air to breath. Anna assumed that the gunshots she heard had taken care of those who no longer had the strength to stand or walk.

An hour passed. The terrifi ed huddled people in the basement with Anna were quiet, save for sporadic whispers of encouragement, occasional coughs or muted sobs.

Then stomping boots echoed on the fl oor above. A murmur rippled through the crowd. The boots descended the stone staircase.

A scraping noise, as heavy bars were lifted from the doors that sealed off the cellar. Anna got to her feet, a shiver running down her spine. Icy fi ngers.

The doors burst open.

Feldgendarmes shouted, “
Raus! Raus!
Everyone out! Move to the door!”

Those near the front of the dimly lit room struggled to their feet. The Feldgendarmes yelled louder, swung their nightsticks and herded the group up the stairs. The crowd moved as a single body, people clutching those nearby to keep from stumbling.

Anna felt someone lean against her and wrapped her arm around the skinny waist of an emaciated elderly woman. Keeping their heads down to avoid the swinging nightsticks, Anna and the woman moved with the crowd out of the cellar room and up the stairs.

In the courtyard, a voice barked from a megaphone, bellowing instructions in German and French.

“
Schnell! Vite!
Keep moving toward the train!”

“No talking allowed!”

“Do not step out of line or you will be shot!”

“Schnell! Vite!”

Squinting against the bright sunlight, Anna looked at the empty boxcars Night of Flames

273

lined up on the rail siding, their doors open wide like gaping mouths of de-monic monsters waiting to swallow their prey.

She struggled to force back the bile rising in her throat and concentrated on helping the woman who leaned against her. The group inched forward.

Soldiers cursed. Nightsticks crunched the skulls of those who stumbled and fell. The voice bellowed through the megaphone and the waiting boxcars loomed larger.

Anna thought about Jan and tears welled in her eyes. Could this be the end?

Would she never see him again?

She heard another voice, off to her left, shouting in German. “That one, over there! That one, the redhead!”

Two Feldgendarmes shoved their way into the crowd. Before Anna could react, one of them, a large, thick man she had seen around the camp, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out of the throng. The elderly woman stumbled and fell to the ground.

The second Feldgendarme clubbed the old woman with his nightstick then shoved Anna from behind while the bigger man held her wrist in an iron grip, dragging her toward a building on the other side of the courtyard.

Up the stairs, down a hallway, pulled and prodded. It was all she could do to keep from falling. At the end of the hallway they stopped in front of a door. The big Feldgendarme opened it while the one in back shoved her into the room.

Anna stumbled and fell on the tile fl oor. The door slammed behind her.

It took Anna a moment to get her bearings. As she got to her knees, she noticed the boots—shiny black boots. She lifted her head and looked into the ice blue eyes of SS Hauptsturmfuhrer Dieter Koenig.

She got to her feet and took a step backward.

Koenig moved closer and placed a gloved hand under her chin. “
Mon dieu,
look what’s become of my pretty girl,” he said in French. “Haven’t these barbarians fed you?”

Anna turned away, swallowing, barely able to breathe.

Koenig touched her cheek.

She brushed his hand away.

He laughed. “Well, it’s good to see you haven’t lost your spirit,
ma chérie.

We’ll get you cleaned up and give you a good meal before we leave; then you’ll feel better.”

274

Douglas W. Jacobson

Anna instinctively folded her arms across her chest and backed away, glancing around the stark room. It was obvious that it had been someone’s offi ce, but now all that remained was a metal desk and a single chair. Through the frosted glass in the top half of the door she could see the silhouette of the big Feldgendarme standing in the hallway.

Unconsciously, Anna rubbed her wrist where the Feldgendarme had gripped it with his enormous hand. She looked at Koenig. “What do you mean, ‘before we leave’? Where are you taking me?”

Koenig smiled and stepped over to the single window overlooking the courtyard. He clasped his hands behind his back and glanced out, then turned toward her. “Why to Germany, of course, as we discussed before the unfortunate timing of the invasion.” He paused. “That is, unless you’d prefer to join those wretched bastards outside.”

Anna feared her legs wouldn’t support her for another second. She had to blink to keep her eyes in focus. Her mouth was so dry she could barely get the words out. “That’s where I belong. So, perhaps you should let me join them.”

Koenig removed his hat and set it on the desk. He sat down in the chair, leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “I think you belong with me,
ma chérie.
Oh, I know you don’t like me very much right now, but, in time, you’ll come around. You’ll see . . . it won’t be as bad as you’re imagining. After all, I’m no animal. I’m just a man who appreciates beautiful women.” He stood up and moved around the desk.

Anna took another step backward.

He pretended not to notice and moved slowly, circling around her, brushing his hand on her shoulder.

He stepped away. “We certainly need to get you cleaned up and put a little meat back on your bones. But underneath all that grime lies a gorgeous creature who I—”

Anna bolted for the door.

Koenig lunged for her.

He grabbed her shoulder and whirled her around, slapping her hard across the mouth.

Anna stumbled backward against the wall.

Koenig grabbed her throat, pressing her head against the rough plaster.

His eyes were wild, his face red with rage. He screamed at her in German.

Night of Flames

275

“
Verdammt!
Don’t ever turn away from me again, you fucking bitch, or I’ll have you raped in the courtyard by every Feldgendarme in this camp!”

He squeezed her throat until she could hardly breathe and screamed again, louder. “You’re mine! You’re coming with me to Germany!”

Koenig leaned forward, his face close to hers and whispered. Anna could smell his breath . . . cigarettes, alcohol. “You’ll give me what I want, whenever I want it and as often as I want it. If you refuse, even once, I’ll have you raped until you wish you were dead. Then . . .
Ich werde Sie töten.
I’ll kill you—slowly.”

Koenig thrust her to the ground and stepped back. He glared at her then reached down and stroked her cheek, his fi ngers tracing the line of her neck.

Then he abruptly picked his hat off the desk and jerked the door open.

“Kommen Sie!”
Koenig barked to the Feldgendarme. “Get this bitch cleaned up and get her some food. Then put her in my car. We leave tonight.”

Chapter 55

Following the strict protocol of the White Brigade, Willy Boeynants had asked the bartender at the Café Brig to arrange a meeting with Antoine.

Later that same day, the two men met near Antwerp’s Kattendijkdok in the dwindling light of the humid August evening.

“I received some information from my colleague at the Interior Department,”

Boeynants said. “General Stolberg has requested the services of a demolition engineer. He has demanded that he be sent to Antwerp as soon as possible.”

Antoine nodded. “
Oui,
we’ve been expecting he might do this.”

“The engineer’s name is Ernst Heinrich. He’s a civilian. And, according to the cables my colleague intercepted, Stolberg only knows this man by reputation. He has never met him, and neither has any of his staff.”

Antoine shrugged. “That’s probably not all that unusual.”

Boeynants continued. “In a stroke of luck, my colleague was on duty when Heinrich’s personnel fi le arrived from Berlin. His department is responsible for processing these fi les. He managed to look at Heinrich’s before passing it on to General Stolberg’s offi ce.”

“
Oui,
but how does this—?”

Boeynants got to the point fi nally. “Ernst Heinrich is arriving in Antwerp on the train from Berlin on the 28th of this month.”

Antoine’s eyes widened. “
Mon dieu,
that’s just fi ve days from now.”

“There’s more. The fi le included Heinrich’s resume—and his description.”

“His description?”

Boeynants handed Antoine a piece of paper with the handwritten notes his colleague had given him. The two men stood in silence for several minutes as Antoine studied the notes.

Night of Flames

277

Antoine dropped the cigarette he had been smoking and ground it out with his shoe. “We need the details on that train, the schedule at every stop along the way. Use our contact in Holland. The train will probably go through Amsterdam, and they can put someone on board.”

Boeynants nodded.

Antoine extended his hand. “
Très bien,
very good work. Now I’ve got to contact SOE.”

Chapter 56

In all of his years as a military offi cer, Jan had never imagined a fi ghting force as formidable as the one that was now charging through France. When he arrived at Normandy the scope of the invading army had astounded him.

Hundreds of ships moved in and out of the artifi cial harbors at Arromanches, disgorging tanks, armored cars, heavy-duty trucks and self-propelled guns by the thousands. Tens of thousands of troops slogged across the beaches: Americans, Brits, Canadians, Australians and Poles, all heading inland to assault Hitler’s Germany.

A month later, the Polish First Armored Division reached the Falaise Gap, and the fi ghting was ferocious, as brutal as any of the battles Jan had fought in Poland, but this time it was the Germans who were crushed.

Jan was surprised at his emotions when the battle at Falaise ended. He hated the Nazis for the monstrous annihilation of his country, and he had been determined to have his vengeance. But when he looked out at the vast killing fi eld from the top of Mont Ormel, he felt only sadness—and a great emptiness. He was so tired. After fi ve years of war, he wanted his life back. He wanted Anna.

But the end seemed nowhere in sight.

The Polish First Armored Division advanced rapidly eastward. With the First Canadian Corps on their left fl ank, the American Third Army on their right, and the skies overhead secured by Allied air forces, the contrast with the isolated, outgunned Polish forces of 1939 was dramatic. Jan looked around at the tanks and armored cars clanking along the dusty French roads. He watched the bomber squadrons fl ying overhead. The outcome of the war was no longer in doubt. Germany would be defeated. The unknown was how long it would take.