Uncommon Enemy (18 page)

The trip to Albany took most of the morning. They had agreed to travel as separate pairs but to catch the same bus in order to keep watch for each other. They’d also agreed to write a short note to their families to be posted the same morning – a note that would provide almost no information but would at least prevent their parents from assuming their children had met with an accident and calling the police.

Earlier in the morning they had boarded the yellow North Shore Transport bus near the blacksmith’s shop in central Takapuna and headed to Northcote where they had then caught the bus for Albany. It was a warm Saturday morning and the bus, which was half full, was soon winding up the gravel roads towards its destination. The rural scenery, with sheep, cows and small houses drifted slowly by as the vehicle made its ponderous way northwards, pausing from time to time to pick up or set down its assortment of passengers.

Initially Stuart, along with the other three, had been keyed up at the prospect of joining the resistance group. However the familiar tranquillity of the countryside had resulted in its becoming somewhat anticlimactic. Nevertheless the occasional military vehicles with the swastika and the silver fern painted on the side, was a sharp reminder that rural New Zealand life was not the same. A further and unrelenting reminder of the New Order came from large billboards that now dotted the roadside at regular intervals. Stuart had seen most of them before but as the bus pulled up at a stop Carol nudged and pointed to a new billboard alongside the bus shelter. It featured a Maori soldier, dressed in New Order military uniform leaning forward with his bayoneted rifle thrust in front of him. Ghostlike, in the background, a traditional tattooed Maori warrior brandished his long-handled taiaha in an identical pose. The poster caption read, “Fight the Communist enemies of the Maori people! Join up now!”

“That’s the second one that I’ve seen targeting Maori men,” muttered Carol. “That young soldier on the motorbike wasn’t an isolated example.”

“More’s the pity,” sighed Stuart. “The Maori Battalion mauled Rommel’s troops in the Western Desert, and the Germans are smart enough to recognize good soldiers when they see them.”

With a lurch the bus moved away from the stop and headed towards a long hill, the heat mixing with the occasional petrol fumes as it ground its way upward. Stuart felt Carol’s head fall onto his shoulders and, comforted by her nearness, closed his eyes and drifted into a light sleep.

He awoke with a start to the sound of shouting. The bus had ground to a halt behind an army truck at the top of the hill. The bus driver was standing outside on the grass verge next to several armed New Order soldiers who were lined up beside a man with sergeant’s stripes. The shouting that had awoken Stuart was coming from a man standing in the aisle at the front of the bus. In spite of the heat he was dressed in a dark suit, black tie and Homburg hat. Behind him stood an officer and two soldiers.

“Passengers!” The special police official’s accented voice was unnecessarily loud. “We have stopped this bus to carry out a search.” He paused. No sound came from the passengers. “We apologize for any inconvenience but there has been some unpatriotic activity in this area. Therefore it is necessary for us to take precautions to ensure that you can continue your journey in safety. You will please take all your belongings, exit from the bus and stand where the soldiers tell you.”

Stuart felt Carol’s fingers dig into his arm. “It’s OK,” he said softly. “Keep calm. We’ve got nothing incriminating on us. We’re just going to visit friends and then go hiking in the country. Just do as they say.”

The pair slowly made their way down the narrow aisle. Stuart was thankful that the authorities had not yet had sufficient time to implement a system of identity cards for all New Zealand’s citizens. As they passed Brendan and Susan who were standing by their seats, his eyes briefly met those of his friend’s but neither man showed any sign of recognition.

Descending the steps the passengers were instructed to stand in a line by the roadside. Stuart noticed that the army officer, two soldiers and the special police officer were moving slowly down the aisle of the bus, checking under the seats and on the luggage racks.

“If you have any possessions, ladies and gentlemen, please place them on the ground in front of you,” said the sergeant, whose accent was also Germanic. There was a rustle of noise as the passengers complied. “Thank you. Now, from your possessions, take two steps backwards.”

“And keep your thumbs down the seams of your trousers,” muttered a male voice in the middle of the line.

“No talking!” barked a soldier standing on the left-hand side of the sergeant. His accent was local.

“OK, mate, take it easy,” responded the male voice. “We’re just bloody bus passengers. What are you going to do? Shoot us with your big new gun?”

At the murmur of mirth the soldier blushed and shifted uncomfortably.

Stuart, turning his head sideways, saw that the comments were coming from a tall, slightly dishevelled dark haired man.

“Your co-operation is -,” began the sergeant when the dark haired man interrupted him.

“Hey, Brownie! I didn’t recognize you! What are you doing in that uniform?”

The soldier looked sharply in the direction of the speaker.

“It’s me, mate,” continued the dark haired man. “Last thing I heard was that you’d joined up and gone overseas to fight the Germans. S’truth, Brownie, what the hell are you doing now?”

The soldier cleared his throat. “Er, g’day, Eric. Didn’t recognize you. Er, how would you be?”

At this point the army and the special police officer stepped off the bus. The army officer glared at the soldier. “What is going on, here, Brown?” His accent was local.

“Christ! Another one. What’s the matter with you jokers?” Eric addressed the officer directly. “You an ex-digger too, mate? If so, have you no bloody shame?”

Catching Brendan’s eye Stuart frowned fiercely and briefly shook his head.

By now the other two soldiers had exited from the bus and were standing behind the officer. “Excuse me, sir,” said one of them, “we found these.” He held up two beer bottles. “One was empty.”

“What of it?” snapped the officer.

“I think it belongs to him, sir,” replied the soldier, indicating Eric. He grinned uncertainly. “Probably had one too many.”

“Yeah, they’re mine,” said Eric. “What of it. You bully boys going to confiscate my bottles of beer? Wow, that will really show your Berlin bosses how brave you are!”

“Enough!” barked the special police officer. He turned. “Brown, place this man under arrest. We will take him into custody for further questioning!”

Eric laughed, but with a nervous edge. “Come on, Brownie. Don’t be a mug. I’m not doing any bloody harm.”

The soldier, who had begun to move towards his friend, hesitated.

“All I had was a couple of beers and----.”

“Silence!” shouted the German. He stepped forward and swept the palm of his right hand across Eric’s cheek with a loud ‘Thwack!’ causing him to stagger backwards.

The sound hung in the heavy air for a moment. “Hey! No need for that!” Brown shouted stepping towards the German. “He’s just a bit drunk. He meant no harm!”

“Yeah, Brownie’s right, you bastard!” shouted Eric who, recovering from the blow began to move forward. The German immediately drew a Luger pistol from inside his jacket. “Get back, you fool!” he shouted but Eric, clearly angry at the unexpected blow, kept advancing.

The shot echoed through the valley. Eric’s chest exploded with the force of the close range bullet. He sprawled on his back, his left leg twitching.

Brown reacted with horror. “You shot him! You shot my mate! You bastard!”

The spray of bullets from Brown’s Schmeisser machine pistol sliced into the plain clothed German pulping his dark suit. As he fell everyone else dived to the ground.

“Get him!” shouted the army officer, jerking his head up and groping for his holstered pistol. Another burst of fire and the officer collapsed, twitched and lay still.

“Brownie!” The voice was one of the other two soldiers sprawled in the dirt. “Don’t shoot, mate! Please!”

Brown stood holding his smoking weapon, looking at the sprawl of people and the three bodies. Red rivulets were flowing steadily from underneath the corpses and mingling with the brown earth. From his position on the ground, Stuart could see that the soldier was trembling. With open palms held out in front of him, he slowly rose to his feet.

“It’s OK, Brownie,” he said quietly. He turned to the sprawling soldiers. “Leave your weapons on the ground and stand up slowly.” The men looked at each other uncertainly.

“Brownie,” he said softly. “Your mates are going to stand up. Give me your word that you won’t shoot them.”

Brown nodded slowly. “I won’t shoot them.” He lowered his Schmeisser. “I won’t shoot my mates.”

Slowly the soldiers rose to their feet and stood looking at Stuart.

“There’ll be hell to pay over this,” said the taller one.

“Knowing the Germans, you can be sure of that,” replied Stuart. “They hate to lose any of their own, particularly outside of a battle zone.”

“What do we do?” asked the other soldier, a smaller man who had removed his helmet and was nervously playing with his red hair.

The sounds of snapping twigs caused Stuart to whirl round, only to catch a final glimpse of the bus passengers and driver rapidly disappearing into the nearby area of bush.

“Yea, Stuart,” asked Brendan quietly, moving alongside him. “There’s still a fair way to go, we’ve no transport, and…” he swept his hand over the scene, “this mess could bring a Blitzkrieg Boys backup group here at any moment.”

Stuart grunted an acknowledgement and then turned to the three soldiers who were clustered uncertainly together.

“Had enough of playing soldiers with the other Blitzkrieg Boys?”

“‘Blitzkrieg Boys’?”

“Yea. A sarcastic label for you Kiwi glory seekers who’ve joined the New Order armed forces.”

The men shifted uneasily and the tall man looked sideways at Stuart. “Like I said, there will be hell to pay for this. And we’ll be the one’s to cop it. But, why did you ask that question about us having had enough?”

Carol and Susan joined Brendan. Stuart noticed that his friend was carrying the officer’s Luger.

“Look, we haven’t got much time,” he said, “but these men could possibly come with us.”

“‘Come with us’, Stuart,” murmured Brendan. “You sure? It’s a hell of a risk.”

“Their truck’d be useful.”

“‘Us’? Who’s ‘Us’?” interrupted Brown.

“We’re heading towards a rendezvous.” Stuart looked at Brendan and the two women who exchanged glances and then nodded. “A rendezvous with a local resistance group.”

“Could, er, could we come with you?” said the small soldier tentatively, looking at his mates who immediately nodded their heads

“Possibly,” interposed Brendan. He looked at Stuart and then at the three soldiers. “But you’ve been fighting for the Krauts. How do we know you can be trusted?”

“Look,” replied the soldier, “All of us thought it would be OK to join them. They promised good pay and told us that we wouldn’t have to harm or kill any of our own people. Then they bloody put us on this search duty and we had to watch some of the Germans arresting locals and beating them up. We hated it but we couldn’t do anything. Now we can, eh, chaps?”

His two companions nodded vigorously.

“How far away is the rendezvous point?”

“Apparently it’s near Albany School at the end of the straight.”

“OK. I think that’s about five miles------.”

“Look,” interrupted Brown. “I’m the driver of that army truck. We’re all in deep shit, and like us, you need transport to get away from here bloody fast. The school’s not that far by truck. If one of the soldiers gets in the front with me and the rest of you get in the back, we’ll set off down the road. If we see another army vehicle we’ll just wave. When we get near the school we’ll ditch the truck and head across country to the school.”

“We’ve no choice, Stuart,” said Carol. “Someone could come past at any moment.”

Stuart looked at Brendan who nodded his assent.

“OK,” said Stuart, “but I’m staying in the front as a precaution.”

He turned to the red headed soldier. “Give me your helmet and tunic. Carol and Susan, take the soldier’s weapons.” Seeing one of the men about to protest he barked, “Hand them over. You’ve no choice.”

After an exchange of glances and a mutual shrug, the soldiers handed their Schmeissers to the two girls.

“Now, all of you, in the back. I’ll ride up front with Brown.”

He looked at the soldiers. “No funny business you men. We’re all in this together but for the moment, we have the weapons.”

Once the decision was made the group moved quickly. The unarmed soldiers, followed by the two women and Brendan, scrambled over the tailboard. Stuart and Brown climbed into the cab. The motor started immediately and the truck roared away. Stuart had ordered the soldiers to drag the bodies behind a hedge – a particularly unpleasant job as the officer’s body had been dismembered by the long burst from Brown’s machine pistol – and to pick up any debris. At the redheaded soldier’s suggestion ground sheets were taken from the truck and draped over the bodies to prevent swarms of flies attracting unwanted attention. Hopefully inhabitants of any passing vehicle would pay little attention to an empty bus parked by the side of the road.

“Take it easy, Brown,” warned Stuart, as the truck lurched around a corner and slid sideways in the loose gravel. “Don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

Brown looked embarrassed. “Sorry, just want to get away and have time to think. It all happened so quickly, one minute the bus had been pulled up and the next minute I was---.”

The soldier was beginning to babble. Stuart leaned across and gripped his arm. “It’s going to be OK, mate. Just take it easy and slow down. We’ll soon be safe and you’ll have plenty of time to debrief.”

The truck slowed as Brown eased his foot off the accelerator. “How much further do you reckon?” asked Stuart.

“Another five minutes. Then what?”

“We’ll ditch the truck and go on foot. You chaps will have to get rid of your uniforms otherwise you might get shot at by the resistance group.”

“Bloody ironic, isn’t it. We’ll soon be on the run from the German authorities and we’re also possible targets for your resistance people. Talk about the bloody Devil and the deep blue sea.”

“Not the best, I agree. Hopefully by the end of the day we’ll have worked out something.”

Brown shrugged. “Hope you’re right. Anyway, what’s the story on these resistance blokes?”

“We’re not sure. We got some information on them. They sounded well organized and so we’re hoping to link up with them sometime today.”

“Why have you decided to contact them?”

“Long story. Tell you later.”

“OK. What’s with the two sheilas?”

“They wanted to come. No reason why not. From what I’ve read Russian women are playing a major role as partisan fighters on the Eastern Front.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t seem right, somehow - pretty women, both of them. ‘Specially the one with the dark hair.”

“And spoken for - and don’t you and your mates forget it!”

Stuart looked at the long stretch of gravel road in front of them. “OK, here’s the Albany straight. Check that there’s no-one watching and pull off the road behind those trees up ahead.”

There was no approaching traffic and Brown glancing in the wing mirror muttered, “All clear. Here goes.”

He hit the brakes and as the truck abruptly slowed, swung the wheel to the left. In a cloud of dust and a scattering of gravel the vehicle swung onto a small overgrown track. With a graunching of gears Brown eased through the narrow gap noisily snapping branches and scattering leaves and twigs.

“Over there,” commanded Stuart and Brown eased the truck under a large macrocarpa tree. It bounced to a halt and as a small dust cloud drifted past the vehicle’s front, the soldier looked enquiringly at Stuart.

“Looks OK. Hang on and I’ll check,” said Stuart swinging open the door and dropping onto the ground. The thick trunk of the tree concealed most of the truck’s body while the tree’s lower branches draped themselves protectively over the roof.

“Look’s pretty good to me,” shouted Stuart. “Everybody out. Make sure you don’t leave anything behind.”

The group quickly assembled at the right hand side of the truck, out of sight of the road.

“Look’s all clear,” said one of the soldiers gazing out over the rolling paddocks in front of them. “Now what?”

“We keep out of sight and continue to head in the same direction.” He removed the German tunic and helmet and tossed them in the back of the truck, motioning to the three soldiers to follow suit. He then looked at the trio. “You chaps must have had plenty of army training in moving through enemy territory. Lead the way and we’ll follow you. When you come in sight of the Albany school house, find a place where you can’t be seen but from where you can see the building and signal us.”

“Then what?” asked Brown.

“We wait until we’re contacted,” replied Stuart. Although the soldiers had made no attempt to cause any trouble he was aware that the situation had far too many unknowns for him to add to the risk by divulging the next stage.

“Stuart.” Carol, who was standing close to him, squeezed his arm. “I think we should go now.”

He smiled warmly at her. Her face was dusty and sweat-streaked, and she looked pale. He reached out and scratched her head briefly. “We’ll be OK, my sweet.” He nodded to the soldiers. “OK you chaps. Away you go. We’ll follow.”

“Hang on a minute, Stuart,” Brendan broke in. “These men are in enough trouble already. We can’t send them off without any weapons. At least give them one of the Schmeissers.”

Mindful of the pressure of time, Stuart thought quickly. It was taking a chance. The Schmeisser was a lethal weapon that could quickly wipe out any small group. However, if New Order troops tracked the soldiers down they would have no chance. Once captured, they would almost certainly be tortured and forced to describe their companions and the rendezvous point. One weapon was worth the risk.

“Yeah. OK. Brownie, you take it.” He smiled grimly. “You’ve already proved your ability. Just remember we’ll be watching.” He nodded to Carol who handed a weapon to Brown. “Right. Let’s get moving.”

Quickly the soldier trio moved forward, keeping low as they crossed the narrow track. The other three looked at Stuart who nodded and they began following the soldiers’ route. A motorbike was heard approaching and immediately the soldiers dropped into the paddock’s long grass. The others immediately followed suit. As the sound of the motor bike slowly receded, the trio rose and, lead by Brown, moved quickly forward at a crouching run.

Stuart, who had half risen to watch them, nodded to his three companions. “Good. They seem to know what they’re doing. Let’s keep moving.”

The clouds had cleared completely leaving an unbroken blue sky above them from which the sun blazed steadily down. The summer cacophony of the cicadas mingled with the bleat of the sheep and the soft lowing of the cows that were spread through the paddocks. The two parties moved steadily but with caution – without being told they realized that if any of the animals were startled it could draw attention to their presence. The occasional sound of a car or motorbike, while causing them each time to pause and drop, was reassuringly normal.

The heat, the heavy weapons, their bags and the inevitable tension made their progress tiring. Where the grass was long
and the hedges were high, progress was easier. However when they reached a newly ploughed paddock, there was the double challenge of a rutted surface and the lack of any ground cover. Consequently both groups tried to move as quickly as possible across the expanses of dirt.

Ten minutes of moving and crouching brought the soldiers almost to the far end of the ploughed area. Stuart and his group were halfway across when the sounds of several slow moving vehicles echoed through the countryside. Both groups dived quickly between the ruts of brown earth and lay still. The vehicles were coming from the south and could therefore have passed the stationary bus. Each fugitive listened to the ponderous approach trying to interpret the vehicles’ intentions from the speed and the sound of the engines. As the noise drew level with the centre of the paddock instinctively they pushed deeper into the freshly ploughed earth. The droning noises grew louder and then, slowly and inexorably continued on down the road.

“Stay down,” muttered Stuart. “Let them pass the soldiers.”

The engine notes, maintaining their consistency, slowly receded into the distance.

“They’ve gone,” said Susan. “I wonder what they were?”

No one had an answer.

“We can get up now, Stuart?” asked Carol.

“Yeah, but be careful.”

Slowly they stood up and looked around. Ahead, the soldiers were also rising to their familiar half crouch. One of them looked back and waved briefly. Stuart waved back and watched them as they moved forward.

Suddenly Carol laughed softly. Startled at the unexpected sound he turned round.

“Have you seen yourselves?” she asked, pointing at the others. “Talk about mobile mounds of dirt.”

“Yeah, well speak for yourself, grubby,” smiled Brendan. “But at least we’re well camouflaged.”

“True. OK, grubs, let’s keep moving, and keep your eyes and ears open.” Stuart moved quickly forward.

“They’ve stopped, Stuart,” Brendan, touching him on the shoulder, pointed ahead. The trio had halted and one of them was looking back and pointing forward. When Brendan waved an acknowledgment the soldier and his two companions dropped quickly into the long grass.

“They must have spotted the school house.” There was relief in Susan’s voice.

“Yes. Move up quickly in single file and watch them for any sudden movements.”

“Surely, Stuart, they’re not likely-----.”

Stuart cut Susan short. “In this situation we can’t be too sure. Remember that up until an hour ago they were wearing Jerry uniforms.”

Leading the way and keeping low Stuart headed forward followed by his companions. Susan was probably right. The behaviour of the officer in killing Brown’s friend, the support that the other soldiers had shown for Brown’s subsequent action and their acquiescence to Stuart’s role of leader indicated that their new loyalties were intact – for the moment.

Nevertheless, as they drew closer, Stuart was relieved to see them all lying facing towards the schoolhouse. Signalling the others he quickly moved into a position on the grass beside Brown who was looking through a pair of German Zeiss binoculars.

“Any sign of movement?” he asked.

“Not a sausage, just a schoolhouse and a few sheep nearby. Here. Take a look for yourself.”

The schoolhouse jumped into view and he slowly panned the binoculars across the full spectrum.

“OK, listen,” he said in a low earnest voice. “I’m going forward to sit on the porch just inside the entrance. Apparently that’s the rendezvous point. I’m assuming someone will eventually spot me and make contact. The rest of you stay here and keep watch. I’ll take the Luger which will leave all of you reasonably well armed in case anything happens.”

Brendan handed him the weapon and wrapping his right hand around the butt, Stuart pushed the safety catch forward with his thumb. Catching sight of Carol’s face he murmured, “I’m sure nothing will happen, but we need to be careful.”

Not trusting himself to say any more lest his fears reveal themselves he hugged Carol briefly and awkwardly and then moved forward at a crouching run. At the edge of the cleared section around the small schoolhouse he paused and scanned the surrounding area. Nothing was moving. Quickly he ran forward, mounted the three steps and entered the small porch. He paused to listen above the sound of his breathing. Apart from the steady hum of the cicadas and the occasional bleat, there was nothing. Following the instructions, after a further visual check he sat down on the top step to wait. His beating heart and sweating palms contrasted sharply with the familiar tranquillity of the rural environment. Although the porch faced away from the sun the humidity hung heavily.

Leaning against the porch wall he gradually relaxed. He wondered how the others were faring, how Carol in particular would cope with whatever lay ahead. She’d shown herself to have a considerable resilience but clearly both of them would be facing greater tests in the future. And his family? How would they cope with his absence – little Claire in particular? Already he missed her bright eyes and her trusting smile. It was all just----.

The heavy hand on his right shoulder instantly brought him back to reality. As he tried to rise another hand was placed firmly on his left shoulder and he was held in a sitting position.

“Just keep still, mate.”

He looked up into the roughly shaven face of a man in his thirties wearing a canvas hat, a faded tartan shirt, grubby shorts and a pair of well-worn army boots. His companion, similarly dressed, carried a Luger in his right hand.

“What are you doing here?” asked the man.

“I was handed a pamphlet at university. It instructed us to come here. My friends are out there in the paddock near by.”

“We know, mate,” said the other man. “Been watching them for a while.”

“Oh. Good. Can I call them in? They’ll be worried.”

“Hang on. Your instructions were no weapons. You’ve disobeyed that order and have brought a larger group. Yea, and three of them are wearing bits of Jerry uniform.”

“Yes, that’s right. Let me explain.”

“Be quick then. We don’t have a hell of a lot of time.”

As rapidly as he could Stuart explained the sequence of events that lead to his arrival at the schoolhouse. The two men listened without interruption and when he had finished they looked at each other.

“That tallies, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Tallies’?” asked Stuart.

“We picked up one of your bus passengers a couple of hours ago. She’d been running away from the scene, hurt her ankle and was resting by an old cowshed. What she told us agrees with your story.”

“Look,” said Stuart, “I’ve explained why we disobeyed your initial orders about weapons, and I can’t vouch unreservedly for the loyalty of the soldiers. But,” he shrugged, “they bring military experience and inside knowledge, and I presume you can use the weapons.” He looked at the two men. “My story tallies, so under the circumstances it’s worth a chance, surely?”

Both men looked at each other and the man in the tartan shirt nodded.

“OK, you can call your people in.”

Stuart rose quickly.

“Just a word of warning,” said the first man.

“What?”

“No funny business. Our people have all of you completely covered.”