Chapter 17

As the comrades approached Perpignan they encountered more and more Spanish refugees who'd made the trek over the mountains by other routes. Most often, they weren't particularly political, just groups of ordinary people terrified for the future or had their livelihoods wiped out by the war.

There was, though, still a fair number of militia and Popular Army soldiers in the column and the French authorities were determined they weren't going to cause trouble in France. 'Oz' and the comrades encountered road blocks manned by French 'Poilu, ' who searched them for weapons and explosives. In contrast to the Basques, the French troops weren't friendly towards the Spanish and those suspected of being Communists or Anarchists received particular attention.

The men and women were separated and locked up in compounds for 'processing.' Little 'processing' was done, however, and, after a few days they were released one by one. The dispirited and disoriented Spanish were then received by the local émigré community who found them temporary accomodation. After a while, the Spanish slowly began to disperse throughout France or moved on to other countries. Anywhere, in fact, that would accept them without harrassment.

There were strong Left Wing movements in France. Syndicalism had its origins there and they had the largest Communist Party outside of the Soviet Union. But, as in Spain, rival movements spent more time feuding with each other than fighting the 'class enemy.' The influx of Spanish radicals fueled the fires and within days of the fall of Barcelona, Anarchists, Communists and 'Trotskyists' began squabbling with each other. Some street fights took place between the factions and shots exchanged. Weapons, despite the French authorities' precautions, were smuggled in and the French Government feared the groups were arming themselves.

Catalina was a French citizen but by association she was treated the same as the Spanish. No allowance was made for 'Oz' either and he was promptly arrested along with the comrades. They were taken to a compound run by the French Army at their main camp in the area, the Arsenale Roussillon.

Conditions were primitive and the only shelter was some tents provided by the army. There weren't enough to go around so most just lay down in the open. From experience, the French army separated the Communists and Anarchists by a low barbed wire fence and an armed guard. Earlier, fights had broken out between the two. Nevetheless, some took to shouting insults across the divide until they grew bored or were shooed away by the guards. Again, by association, 'Oz' was lumped in with the Anarchists. He had, after all, arrived as part of an Anarchist unit.

Catalina was locked up with the women on the other side of the sprawling army camp. The French intended that this should 'tame' the volatile situation. Beni told 'Oz' that this was typical, that the French authorities could only think with their dicks.

For the two days of their stay at the Arsenale 'Oz' moped. Something had gone out of his life and had been replaced by a grey depression. Even the efforts of the comrades to cheer him up just got him irritated. In the end, they let him be.

A developing sexual tension or 'frisson' between John and Jana became plain the next day. They'd shared a kiss, and not merely a peck between good friends, and neither could answer the question, 'what happens now?'

John had spent most of the night thinking about her as Benin lay in his arms. He'd imagined her undressing for him, imagined the euphoria of first sex, saw her naked body thrusting at him and her mouth smothering him with hot kisses. Then he looked across at Benin and waited for the wave of guilt. He tried to rationalise, to make excuses, and to dream up a situation where it would be all right for him to make love to Jana; that Benin was ok with it, that she even encouraged him.

But, of course, he knew Benin better than that and knew exactly what would happen if she ever found out should he and Jana consummate an affair. What would his friend 'Oz' say? 'She'd have his nuts for nougat.' 'Damn right she would, ' he thought, he'd be dead.

And what sort of man would go behind his pregnant 'wife's' back anyhow? His Father, he knew, would disown him. His Mother would take to her bed in grief. This was not the way they do things in Taranaki. At least, that's what he'd been led to believe.

He was becoming increasingly aware, however, of the sexual power he had over women. He'd never 'played the field' when he was growing up. He'd been too shy to ask a girl to dance let alone invite her for a roll in the barn. Maybe if he'd had, things would be different? Perhaps he could have 'got things out of his system?' Instead, out of the corner of his eye, he'd watch the girls as he strolled through the parks of Novgorod in his uniform. He noticed them staring, their jaws sagging or trying to catch his eye. Yes, even with Benin by his side!

He knew Jana would be game, he could tell without asking her. Hell, most of the RAFTRAWI staff were convinced they were screwing anyway. Jana knew that and she didn't care. Fuck it! If they believed he was stealing the cake, he might as well have a lick of the icing.

There was just one little problem he needed to solve and that was the hard part, living with himself afterwards. With or without Benin.

When Jana arrived at work the next day, she instantly knew something was troubling John. He wouldn't look at her, he pretended she wasn't there. Even as they rode out together in the car to Testing Field 2, he looked the other way as if something interested him on the perimeter. She thought it all a bit childish and it bemused her.

She wanted to play with his mood and watch him squirm in discomfort. Hell, if he wasn't prepared to face her and be honest, then he deserved to be teased. She thought their friendship counted for more. So, they betrayed a little desire for one another? Jana thought it was cute. They hadn't fucked so what was the big deal? It happened to her all time and, she was sure, John too. She couldn't believe such a hunk as John had never been smooched by a female colleague before.

Actually, she thought, his attitude was beginning to annoy her. It made her feel a bit like a Jezebel, when she knew he'd been as keen as her to touch lips. He really did need a sharp lesson in maturity.

They arrived at the field and walked to the hangar for the briefing. The ground crew were there scrubbing the aircraft but the technicians were still on their way. John opened the access door and went inside, Jana followed. When they were out of sight of the ground crew she came up behind him and groped his arse.

He jerked as if stung. Jana laughed and he spun around and confronted her. John advanced, backed her against the wall, and kissed her fully on the mouth. She hadn't expected this. Putting her hands on his chest she tried to push him away, but he was too strong and had her fully pinned. And, he kissed her beautifully, thoroughly, and she lost interest in trying to fend him off. If they hadn't heard the car arrive with the technicians, Jana felt he would've had her pants off and fucked her against the wall. And, she knew, she would've let him.

He backed away when he heard the car and she was left panting and trying to regain her composure before the technicians came through the door. She had been all but seduced by a man she thought she had the better of. John, she smiled to herself, was a dangerous man for her!

When it was 'Oz's' turn to be called up before the French authorities, he had the impression they knew a fair bit about him already. He was brought to the room, a converted barracks, and before three men seated behind desks. He understood the routine already. Word had already gone around among the 'detainees.'

The first man was a military officer, a full colonel in the French army. The second was a uniformed officer in the French State Police. The third wore civilian dress, claimed he was from the Immigration Service, but the detainees were certain he was from French Military Intelligence.

The Policeman did the talking, the Colonel looked bored and the 'spook' just looked at him.

"Mister Callaghan?" the cop said in accented English, "what are your intentions in the French Republic?"

"To leave!" he told them. He was in a slow burn about his treatment. He just wanted out of this place, to a bar, find his friends, especially Catalina, and leave Perpignan.

The cop had grinned, the colonel looked insulted and the spook just continued to look on, expressionless.

"No doubt," the cop chuckled.

"Have you any intention of engaging in political activity during your stay in France?" the colonel asked.

"Nope!" 'Oz' answered in complete honesty.

"You wish to see the British Consul?"

"Nope!" 'Oz' bristled at the thought of his treatment by the British back in Barcelona. The last person he felt like seeing was a bloody Pom.

"You have somewhere to stay?" the cop asked.

"Nope, not yet." The cop shrugged as if he didn't care anyway. No doubt 'Oz' could sleep in the street as far as he was concerned, providing it was far away out of his jurisdiction.

The cop stood, the guard took 'Oz' by the elbow and escorted him out. He marched him to the main gate of the camp where a pile of belongings had been stacked ready. 'Oz' retrieved his gear, the guard told him to go, that was that!

He wandered around the fence towards the women's camp. Outside, an unruly mob of Spaniards were hurling abuse at a line of very young French soldiers. 'Oz' couldn't see the women's camp, it was too far down the road but he could see more squads of troops lined up behind the fence. 'That's what you get, ' he thought to himself, 'when you separate a Spaniard from his woman.'