Chapter 5

(The Paris Express)

It had become far too dangerous to keep the radio in the farmhouse any longer because the Nazis had begun to search every farmhouse in the area. Several of the rural community had already been put on transports to the East just for not being able to prove non-Jewish roots or for having some sort of contraband like a World War I captured weapon or a radio capable of bringing in the BBC.

Honey was certain eventually the Gestapo would stumble on the resistance group because they were only as strong as the weakest link and from her perspective there were a lot of weak links in the group. She could identify with Marcel's reasoning for keeping separate and far away from the loosely knit band of Communist sympathizers. She secured the military radio in a small underground bunker made with scrap wood and a lid from a rubbish container.

She also kept a back-up long gun and some ammo in the hole in the ground just in case she had to go it alone sometime in the future. She skimmed some of the Francs from the payments for the informants and hid the packet in the forest as well. Her exit strategy was to wait for transport from Whitehall at a nearby open field but she had already formed an opinion that it was a plan with little hope of success. Her alternate plan was to make for the coast on her bicycle and to buy passage on a fishing boat to one of the islands where she could make contact with other underground groups and find a way back to England or Scotland. She had traveled in all of those areas and was reasonably certain it would work much better than the haphazard run to the middle of an open field under the glare of a moon that knew no mercy.

The group made a disastrous attempt to ambush a German truck on the main highway that led right into Paris. They thought the truck was loaded with medical supplies and ammunition but instead it was filled with crack troops from the SS Panzer Division headquartered in the medieval fortress that used to be the old city. The troops were out and around them before they could run away and they were all either killed or captured. Those lucky enough to have remained behind argued about if the mission had been compromised because of a loose tongue or a turncoat trying to ingratiate himself into the Nazi's favor. Honey had to admit she had no firm opinion on it one way or the other but common logic dictated that it was their faulty planning that caused the debacle.

Just when she thought things could not get worse, they did.

Looking up into the starry sky, Honey saw the outlines of two small transport planes and the subsequent dropping of pallets with dark colored parachutes above them. The material from the parachutes would be put to good use and not buried like the white silk that was so easily identified and easy to spot against a dark cloudless sky.

She was impatient waiting for the containers to be opened back in the farmhouse because she hoped they would contain the back-radio and small generator that she desperately needed. Instead the containers were packed with row after row of high explosives. She knew right away that was what it was because everyone started to back away from the table like it was a cargo of snakes.

The metal canister with the detonators was right in the midst and she quickly moved it to the furthest corner of the kitchen knowing the explosives would be virtually useless without it. She could hear them already arguing that this was proof that all Whitehall wanted was to use them for cannon fodder to bring down the bridge to the coast. They were throwing side glances at her and she was certain they believed it was at her instigation. Her recent scouting expedition of the bridge and the immediate surroundings had already shown her that it was too heavily guarded to take without serious casualties and too well constructed to be taken down with the amount of explosives in the supply drop.

Knowing that her position in the group was suspect, she decided that it might be wise to strike off on her own and try to make contact with the main infiltration group in Paris to get more coherent instructions. She had no choice but to leave the radio and her other gear in the safe-hole because she would never get through any check-point with any of it. The only bag on her bicycle was the one with her socks and undies and a spare shirt along with some toilet articles to make life easier. Her rolled-up blanket and poncho were behind her tied to the seat. Even though she had no map, she was familiar with the main roads and the back roads as well as having traveled the region on many occasions in earlier years. She knew no matter how hard she tried, it would be impossible to avoid all of the check-points but she could, at least, try to skip past as many as she could.

She arrived at the small town inland that she knew from experience to be a railhead for a track that would take her almost to the outskirts of Paris. She handed her bicycle up to the baggage man knowing it would be safe there until they reached the North station in the historical old town that was her destination. She didn't linger in that town because there had been some nasty business with the deportation of the Jewish community and strangers were looked upon with deep-seated suspicion.

Holly bought some sausage and bread from the small shop on the railway platform and started out on the road to Paris with the sun rising right in front of her. At the very beginning she had a lot of other bicycle traffic mostly heading in the opposite direction into the center of the town to go to their places of employment or to buy something from one of the shops.

A bicycle came up from behind and she was joined by a rough-looking older man with nasty scars on his bearded face. She was bit on guard because he certainly did not look like a reputable sort of fellow.

"What is a young lady doing on the road at this hour? The jobs are all back the other way, young lady unless you are heading to the Gardens like me for one of the gardening jobs. Sorry, they only hire men."

The ruffian laughed. It was a funny laugh not a nasty one like she would have expected.

She decided he was not that bad of a sort after all.

"I am going up to Paris to visit my cousins and maybe get a job in a restaurant or a shop."

He pedaled effortlessly displaying balance and skills that were surprising from such a big man.

"My name is Andre and I just lost my job at the power station because I didn't have proper papers. My silly grandmother is a Gypsy and she tells everyone she hates the Germans. At least at the Gardens, they don't care about your politics they are just interested if you have a green thumb."

Holly was forced to laugh because it sounded so French and so descriptive of the German mentality at that time which was most inflexible on matters of racial purity.