Scorched Earth Read online

  ‘Where are PT and Luc?’

  ‘When we got back to the woods and heard what had happened we thought you’d want us spread around,’ Paul explained. ‘So we all grabbed our equipment. We came here, and PT and Luc went to find Sam and Edith’s team.’

  This made sense, but Henderson was in too much of a mood to voice approval. ‘We all loved Rosie, but she’d have wanted us to respect her memory by continuing to fight the war, not by going off on some wild goose chase tracking down the man who killed her.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Paul said. ‘So shall we stick here with you?’

  Henderson nodded. ‘I picked this spot for myself because it’s central. The other two teams are all within a kilometre. If we hear any tankers getting blown up we can reinforce them if necessary—’

  ‘Captain, sssh!’ one of the Maquis boys said.

  He was a small blond lad who looked younger than his seventeen years. Henderson didn’t like his tone, but soon realised there were vehicles coming. Daniel was up a tree 20 metres back from the road and gave a shout.

  ‘Eight vehicles, including three tankers. Six hundred metres, moving fast.’

  Henderson grinned as he turned towards Marc and Paul. ‘Good job you turned up – eight vehicles is a big chunk to bite.’ Then he looked around at the two Maquis and addressed them as well. ‘There’s a lot of them and not many of us. This is strictly blast and run. No heroics. Is that clear?’

  As the boys nodded or said, ‘Yes, sir,’ Henderson grabbed a package of explosives stuck to a wooden bar tray. He planned to throw them into the road a few seconds ahead of the lead vehicle.

  Daniel had jumped out of his tree and emerged breathlessly at the roadside as the convoy started getting loud. ‘Can I help?’

  Henderson shook his head. ‘Run now, and don’t stop until you get to the woods.’

  It was just dark enough for the lead truck in the convoy to have its headlight on. Henderson had to slide his tray of explosives skilfully. Too soon and the driver might swerve, too late and it wouldn’t blow until the vehicle passed over.

  ‘Spread out,’ Marc told the two Maquis. ‘Wait for the first bang, then aim everything you’ve got at the tankers.’

  As Paul grabbed a couple of grenades from a sack, Marc flipped up the scope on his sniper rifle and dropped into a firing position. Springing up from his crouching position at the side of the road, Henderson shoved his tray of explosives in front of the lead vehicle, which was an open-backed truck equipped with a heavy-calibre anti-aircraft gun.

  The truck’s front wheel hit the tray, spilling plastic explosive across the road. The back wheels cleared before a dozen balls of explosive detonated, but the blast was still enough to lift the truck off the road and shatter the rear axle.

  As Henderson ducked chunks of shrapnel big enough to kill him, the blast caught the second vehicle in the convoy – a troop truck. The shockwave instantly killed the driver, while the soldiers behind were forced to bail out through a flaming canvas canopy.

  Marc had moved further down the road to attack the tankers sandwiched in the middle of the halting convoy. With two deadly shots, he targeted the drivers of two out of three tankers, then took cover as Paul and the two Maquis lobbed grenades followed by much more powerful balls of plastic explosive.

  They’d begun scrambling away when the first fuel tanker exploded. Paul felt scorching heat on his back as he started running. The towers of flame were so bright that he didn’t dare look back.

  It wasn’t clear whether it was plastic or the force of the first truck exploding, but the second and third tankers blew simultaneously. As the noise and heat died off, Paul became aware that someone was charging through the overgrown grass behind him.

  He looked back, hoping it was Henderson, but there was an Alsatian dog in the lead, followed by two Germans. Paul was fit after training on CHERUB campus, but he was no athlete and they were all closing fast.

  He’d almost reached a hedge at the end of the field when the dog jumped on his back and brought him down. Paul rolled over and reached for the knife in his belt as he tried forcing the animal off with a two-footed kick.

  The kick was ineffective, but as the dog sunk its teeth into his thigh Paul drove his knife into the top of the dog’s spine, instantly paralysing it. He sat up, reaching for his pistol, but had no serious expectation of getting a shot in before the two chasing Germans were on top of him.

  A pistol shot came from behind Paul, hitting one of the men, and when he glanced up he saw a knife rotate through the air and hit the other German in the side of the neck. He knew instantly that Marc was the expert knife thrower, but he was shocked when he glanced behind and saw Daniel crouching in the hedge, holding a smoking revolver and looking rather stunned.

  ‘You OK?’ Marc asked, as he grabbed Paul then glanced behind to see if anyone else was following.

  ‘Bastard dog bit me,’ Paul gasped, as Marc hauled him up and shoved him through the hedge, before stepping back to pull his favourite throwing knife out of the dead German.

  The sky was still lit with flame as Paul started scrambling across the next field. Henderson and the two Maquis lads were running ahead of them.

  ‘Nice shot, Daniel,’ Marc said.

  ‘Please don’t tell Henderson,’ Daniel begged. ‘He said I didn’t need a gun.’

  *

  It was 22.10 and properly dark as Henderson got back to headquarters in the woods. Marc was right behind, but Paul and Daniel had fallen half a kilometre back during a twenty-five-minute run.

  Jean and a couple of his closest aides stormed furiously from a tent and began yelling at Henderson before he’d caught his breath.

  ‘You’ve gone too far,’ Jean screamed. ‘Four people were lynched in town this afternoon. Businesses got smashed up, half a dozen women got dragged off. How dare you go behind my back and recruit my boys to provoke these bastards further?’

  Before Henderson could answer, Luc arrived at a run and interrupted breathlessly.

  ‘Sir,’ Luc gasped, as Henderson looked his way. ‘Me and PT found Edith and Sam’s team, but the tankers came in on a different route, so none of us got anywhere. So we snuck up to the German camp to see if we could do some damage before the tanks set off.’

  ‘Those weren’t my orders,’ Henderson barked.

  Luc ignored him, but sounded irritated. ‘The point is, the Tiger crews were getting ready to move and some support vehicles had already headed off west. But at least one group of trucks and motorised artillery are preparing to go on the rampage before they leave.’

  ‘How can you possibly know that?’ Jean asked.

  ‘Edith speaks a little German and got close enough to hear what was being said,’ Luc explained. ‘They’d heard about their tankers getting blown up and they were planning to teach the locals a lesson before they ship out.’

  ‘I knew something like this would happen,’ Jean roared desperately.

  Marc looked at Luc. ‘Are the others OK?’

  ‘I stole a bike and raced back to let you know,’ Luc explained. ‘We sneaked some time-delayed bombs under trucks before I left and PT’s going to lay explosive traps on the roads.’

  Jean furiously jabbed his finger against Henderson’s lapel. ‘You can’t even control a bunch of boys! The Germans are going to be all over us now. What are you going to do, Captain?’ he demanded.

  Before Henderson could answer, one of Jean’s angry sidekicks pulled out a pistol and aimed it point blank at Henderson’s chest.

  ‘You’re a guest here,’ the youth shouted furiously. ‘But you’ve caused us nothing but trouble.’

  ‘No,’ Jean said, batting the gun away. ‘Where does shooting get us? Do you want a bloodbath?’

  ‘My team and I will be gone soon enough,’ Henderson told Jean. ‘And you don’t have that much to worry about.’

  ‘They have tanks and artillery,’ Jean spat.

  Henderson took a step back and tried to sound calm. ‘The 108th has a vic
ious reputation, but they’re short of everything from fuel to shells, and they have orders to move west.’

  Jean seemed to accept some of this, but still looked angry.

  ‘Marc, get my maps,’ Henderson ordered.

  While Marc dashed 30 metres to Henderson’s tent, Paul, Daniel, Edith and Joel all arrived within moments of each other. Their breathless stories reinforced the picture that they’d had no success in destroying any more fuel tankers and that the 108th’s Tiger tanks were making final preparations to move west.

  Henderson spread his map of the Beauvais area over the ground so that Jean’s crew and his own team could see it.

  ‘Let’s assume that the 108th wants to cause mayhem,’ Henderson began. ‘But their priority is to conserve fuel and move west towards Normandy. Some of their hidden vehicles will have to pass through Beauvais and there could be trouble in the town centre, but I’d say that the real danger of retaliation lies here, in the villages and countryside west of the city.’

  Marc felt a tingle as Henderson drew an invisible oval across the map with his fingertip. If he was right, the area most at risk included Morel’s farm, the orphanage and two tiny hamlets nearby.

  ‘What can we do?’ Jean asked.

  Luc snorted. ‘What do you think rifles and small explosives can do against an entire tank battalion?’

  Henderson didn’t like agreeing with Luc, but nodded. ‘We can’t confront the 108th head on,’ he said. ‘We’re powerless to stop them going on the rampage, but we can pick off stragglers and harass them every step of the way to Normandy.’

  Edith looked confused. ‘You just said it’s impossible to stop them.’

  Henderson nodded again. ‘In a direct confrontation, it is. But we know where they’re heading. They’ll average fifteen kph at best and route options are compromised, because most rural bridges were built for horse-drawn wagons, not fifty-tonne tanks. On top of all that, they’ll need to refuel at least twice a day.’

  Luc looked at Jean and sneered. ‘So I guess we’ll be leaving to do some fighting, while you boys keep hiding in the woods.’

  Henderson glowered at Luc, before turning to Jean. ‘I can’t carry all the supplies, so plenty will be left here for your men. My operation will involve two teams, and half a dozen volunteers from your ranks would make things easier.’

  Henderson was trying to be conciliatory, but Jean remained bitter.

  ‘I won’t try to stop anyone who volunteers,’ Jean said. ‘Not that you’d take any notice if I did.’

  Henderson glanced at his wristwatch, then at his team. ‘The tanks are already on the move and we need to stay close,’ he said. ‘You’ve got twenty minutes to find your volunteers and pack up.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  For every Maquis who was happy hiding in the woods, there seemed to be another bored of the long, hungry days and up for a fight. Six lads lined up for Henderson’s briefing, along with Edith and Henderson’s six fully-trained agents.

  ‘Two squads,’ Henderson announced. ‘PT runs Team A. Marc and Luc are his deputies, plus Edith and two Maquis. Your job is to trail the 108th. Harass and destroy broken-down vehicles. If possible try to get ahead and block roads or sabotage bridges.’

  As Henderson spoke, Edith and Marc doled out tinned rations, canteens, grenades and ammo clips, while making sure that everyone had a decent backpack to carry them in.

  ‘You’ll be living rough, scrounging and stealing food wherever you can for as long as this takes,’ Henderson warned. ‘There will be no radios or communication between units, though you have fall-back points here and in Paris. If things get desperate we can try contacting local resistance groups, but be careful when dealing with anyone you can’t vouch for.

  ‘I’ll lead Team B,’ Henderson continued, as he crouched over his map and tapped on the town of Rouen, roughly halfway between Beauvais and the Normandy coastline. ‘Rouen is a major German transport hub. There are large fuel depots there and unless the 108th goes on an epic diversion it will pass through or near the city en route to Normandy. I’m going to take the OT truck. My team and I will drive through the night. Tanks can’t move quickly, so we’ll try to reach Rouen before the 108th and do what we can to stop them from moving on. Questions?’

  Nobody spoke, but several sets of eyes looked down at Daniel. Henderson nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘He wants to come and he’s already proved his worth,’ Henderson announced. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this war, it’s that there’s not much of a link between a person’s age and a person’s ability. Daniel and Michel will go with Team A.’

  Although Jean didn’t approve of Henderson’s operation, the elderly ex-teacher cared about the young men. He made sure that everyone who was about to leave was equipped with ration cards, some kind of fake ID and decent boots.

  Henderson donned his OT uniform and began preparing identity paperwork that would enable his team to ride his stolen German truck to Rouen in the guise of a construction crew.

  The plan for PT’s six-strong team was to pick up bicycles stashed at the edge of the woods. Even if the Tigers could only move long distances at fifteen kph, they had no time to waste if they were to have a realistic chance of following them on bicycles.

  Henderson gave Marc and PT maps, marked with the most likely routes to Normandy and key locations where sabotage might be an option. He then grew irritated as the two squads dragged out their goodbyes.

  ‘Move out,’ PT shouted.

  ‘Good luck,’ Henderson said, as he quickly shook PT’s hand.

  Besides PT, Marc, Luc, Edith, Daniel and Michel, more than twenty other Maquis decided to walk to the edge of the woods with them because they had nothing better to do. Henderson worried that this unofficial entourage could attract attention, but he had other things on his mind and knew that nobody would follow them once they’d picked up the bikes.

  The tail end of PT’s entourage had just vanished between trees when a flash and shockwave burst over the small forest clearing. As Henderson and everyone else hit the deck the sky was lit with bright white light and there was a sound like a thousand twigs snapping.

  ‘Take cover,’ Henderson shouted, but nobody heard because the Germans had launched three more artillery shells.

  The first attack of the war had involved Hitler’s tanks pushing into the forests of Poland. The Germans had quickly learned that sending tanks or artillery into dense woodland was hopeless. But setting shells to explode a few metres above a forest canopy turned trunks and branches into thousands of deadly, high-velocity splinters.

  As Henderson looked about, hot wooden spears whizzed in all directions, smashing into the ground, into trees and into flesh. The 108th clearly knew exactly where the Maquis headquarters was, even though Jean had only moved here that morning.

  Jean’s command tent had been levelled and a man’s legs were smashed under a felled trunk less than 3 metres from Henderson’s position.

  ‘Team B, move out,’ Henderson shouted, as he stood up.

  He did a quick three-sixty, seeing every surface covered with charred splinters, from the size of an arm to the size of a pencil stub. Paul’s face came out of the dark and Henderson put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Paul gasped, as he eyed the sky overhead nervously. There was blood spattered on his face, but it was someone else’s.

  ‘We stick to our plan,’ Henderson ordered. ‘Round the others up and lead them out of the woods to my truck.’

  ‘How do we know there isn’t a line of tanks between us and the truck?’ Paul asked.

  ‘We don’t,’ Henderson said bluntly. ‘But I don’t fancy sticking around here much, do you?’

  Before Paul could answer, another triple-shell barrage lit the sky. The first blasts had ripped the tops off the trees, enabling this second wave to penetrate deeper and shred more wood. After finding a couple of members of his team and ordering them to move, Henderson ran towa
rds his tent to grab a leather pouch containing his maps.

  Jean got in Henderson’s face as he reached under the canvas to pick it up.

  ‘You brought this upon us,’ Jean screamed. ‘I hope you feel bloody proud.’

  Jean was right, but Henderson felt no guilt. Shitty things happened to decent people. Henderson was a military man and you had to accept that fact if you wanted to wage war.

  ‘Take your men deep into the woods and stay put,’ Henderson said. ‘The 108th is a mechanised battalion. They’ve got no infantry to chase you into the woods and they can’t stick around long enough to starve you out.’

  Jean grunted as Henderson slung a backpack and the leather map-satchel over his shoulders. Before Henderson ran, he realised that there were probably decoded notes and plans in his tent, so he rolled a grenade between the tent flaps and shouted, ‘Fire in the hole.’

  Meantime, Paul had found Joel and Sam and relayed Henderson’s order to head for the truck.

  As more artillery shells burst over the clearing, Henderson caught the pair up. ‘Where are the others?’ he demanded.

  ‘Two dead,’ Sam shouted. ‘No sign of anyone else.’

  ‘Either ignoring orders or they got hit by something,’ Henderson said.

  Everyone who could had left the clearing. Henderson looked back at the writhing bodies and desperate moans of those who weren’t able to. It would take forever to reassemble his team in the dark, and the longer they stuck around the more chance there was that one of them would get speared in the next blast.

  ‘Looks like it’s just the four of us then,’ he shouted. ‘Let’s move out.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  While Henderson’s squad got halved before it even left the forest, PT and the rest of Team A cleared the worst of the blast zone and shed their entourage.

  ‘They’ll need help,’ Edith pleaded, scrambling over the undergrowth as Daniel looked forlornly back at the screams and smoke rising out of a clearing that was now almost a kilometre behind them.

  ‘Cower in the woods while others do the fighting and you get what you deserve,’ Luc said. ‘End of story.’