Hell Harbor Page 17

  After a while Helmut reached to the night table and got two cigarettes, lighting both of them in his mouth, and handing one to Francine. They smoked side by side on the pillow, and Francine wondered what strategy she should employ to secure from him the information she needed this time. Barrages of explosions shook the city, their sounds reverberating off the walls of the little bedroom.

  Francine cuddled closer to him. “Are you sure we’re safe here?” she asked, trembling a little.

  “I told you it’s quite safe here,” he replied, blowing a column of cigarette smoke into the air. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “But how can you be sure, Helmut?”

  “Because this neighborhood has no strategic significance whatsoever. That’s why I selected it for your apartment. Don’t forget that I’m an engineer and I know how to read maps. The Americans would not waste shells bombing around here when they have more promising targets, such as Army barracks, military fortifications, artillery emplacements, and so forth, elsewhere.”

  “But what if a stray shell landed here?”

  “Highly unlikely. Almost mathematically impossible. A stray shell could land here of course,” he said pedantically, “but one also could land anywhere. Believe me my dear, this apartment is as safe as any apartment in Europe right now, and probably a lot safer than most of them.”

  She kissed his cheek, touching her small breast to his arm. “You’re so intelligent, darling.”

  He accepted the kiss with aplomb. “I am fortunate to have a good education.”

  She returned to her position and puffed the cigarette. She could see the window from where she lay, and bright flashes of red light streaked across the night sky.

  “I’m curious about something, Helmut,” she said.

  He laughed. “You want to ask about my other girlfriends again?”

  “No, I believe that you don’t have any other girlfriends.”

  “It’s about time that you have come to trust me.”

  “Do you remember a few weeks ago,” she said, “when you told me about the torpedoes you were using to blow up the harbor.”

  “Oh, you remembered that?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Strange, I thought you’d forgotten, because you’ve never mentioned it since.”

  “Actually I haven’t thought of it very much, but it isn’t the sort of thing one forgets.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it is.”

  “Well,” she said, making swirls of smoke with the cigarette, “I’ve thought of something that I wonder if you’ve taken into consideration.”

  He chortled. “I assure you that I’ve taken everything into consideration. Don’t I always?”

  “Well,” she said, “have you thought of this? Your switch in the fortress is connected to the torpedoes in the harbor by wires, so what will happen if one of those American shells happens to land on the ground where the wires are run. That’ll break the wires, won’t it?”

  He puffed his cigarette nonchalantly. “Of course it would break the wires, so naturally I’ve thought of it. The wires would have to be buried deep in the ground so that not only American shells wouldn’t reach them, but also so that the maquis wouldn’t be able to get to them.”

  “Oh, so you’ve dug a long trench from the fortress to the bay, and buried the wires?”

  “No, no, no,” he replied. “We wouldn’t dare do that, because Cherbourg is full of maquis spies and they’d see what we were doing. Therefore we decided to run the wires through the sewer that goes from the fortress into the bay. The sewer is quite deep, so it is safe from enemy bombardment, and the local spies had no idea of what we were doing. We handled it rather well, don’t you think?”

  “That is clever,” she said, cuddling him again.

  “Yes, and this apartment is quite far from the waterfront, so when we throw the switch, you won’t feel the explosion much here.”

  “And you, Helmut? Where will you be?”

  “Deep in the fortress, and quite safe.”

  She hugged him and kissed his cheek. “I’m so worried about you.”

  “Oh, I’ll be all right,” he said.

  “Please be careful, Helmut,” she begged.

  “I’ll do everything I can. Now stop worrying. Worrying won’t help.”

  He bent over her and kissed her nipple tenderly, and she wondered if there was anything she could do to safeguard Helmut’s life, for she really was in love with him, and wanted him to be alive and in one piece when the war was over. As Helmut licked her nipple, an idea occurred to her. It was so obvious she was surprised she hadn’t thought of it before.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In the morning, American troops broke through German defenses, and entered the city of Cherbourg. Fierce house-to-house fighting ensued, as the citizens of the city who’d remained behind cowered in their cellars and prayed for divine intervention to save their lives.

  American artillery battalions zeroed in on the fortress and subjected it to such an intense bombardment that poisonous fumes seeped into its uppermost corridors and rooms. Deep within the fortress, where the fumes had not yet gone, Lieutenant Colonel von Schlieben sat at his desk and drank a cup of coffee, while reading latest communiqués from the front.

  The situation looked bad, but was not perilous yet. He felt that he could put up a better fight if he had first-class German troops in his command, but his divisions were a hodge-podge of other units, and a majority of his troops were in their late thirties and early forties, less energetic and more cautious than their youthful American counterparts. Moreover, many of his soldiers weren’t even Germans. They were Ukrainian Russians who hated Stalin and Communism and joined the German Army, winding up in France where they managed to commit numerous terrible atrocities against the French people.

  How can anyone expect Russians in German uniforms to fight well against Americans in France? von Schlieben wondered. The war was getting crazy. Thank goodness it would be over for him soon.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Come in.”

  Lieutenant Weber marched into the office, a document in his hand. He saluted von Schlieben, who saluted back casually.

  “What is it this time?” von Schlieben asked.

  Weber handed him the document. “The Americans are offering you the opportunity to surrender, sir.”

  Von Schlieben looked at the document. It was on the stationery of the United States VII Corps and was signed by Lieutenant General Joseph Lawton Collins. It said that von Schlieben and his troops had fought valiantly, but that the time had come for them to surrender. The document listed the surrender terms, which were quite generous actually, but von Schlieben felt that if he surrendered now, it wouldn’t be so wonderful for his family in Germany, and moreover, the SS men prowling the fortress might shoot him as a traitor.

  Von Schlieben looked up at Weber. “We’re going to ignore this, Lieutenant. Send back no response whatsoever.”

  “But, sir,” Weber said nervously, “the American commander quite rightly points out that we are in a hopeless situation, and further resistance is futile.”

  “I know how to read, Lieutenant Weber. You are dismissed. Please send Major Obeldorf in to see me right away.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lieutenant Weber saluted, did an about-face, and marched out of the office. Von Schlieben looked at the surrender demand from General Collins again, shrugged fatalistically, and put it on a pile of other papers on his desk. Major Obeldorf, his chief engineering officer, entered his office and saluted.

  “Have a seat, Major,” von Schlieben said.

  Major Obeldorf sat in one of the chairs in front of von Schlieben’s desk. His head was shaved, he had a black mustache, and wore eyeglasses.

  Von Schlieben leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. “The crucial hour is rapidly approaching,” he said. “I trust that all is in readiness?”

  “You refer I assume to the demolitions?”

 
“Correct.”

  “All is in readiness.”

  “Are you sure that the bombing hasn’t damaged any of your controls or the wires that lead to the torpedoes?”

  “Quite sure. As you know, we have established an alarm system to inform us instantly if anything is wrong, and as you also know, the alarm system is manned twenty-four hours a day. If even one of those wires is severed in any way, a light bulb will be activated on our control board. Since none of the light bulbs have been activated, we must assume that the demolitions system still is intact.”

  Von Schlieben scratched his nose. “What if a light goes on?”

  “We have a troop of combat engineers ready to enter the sewer system and effect repairs at a moment’s notice.”

  “Good. If anything whatever happens to the demolitions system, I want to be notified immediately.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “I want you and your section to be prepared to throw the switch at any time now, because as you know, the Americans are drawing closer.”

  “I know.”

  “That is all. Please return to your post.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Obeldorf stood, saluted, and walked briskly out of the office. Von Schlieben raised his coffee cup to his lips and drank. The end was in sight, but he was ready for it. The next forty-eight hours should decide the issue. The tone of General Collins’ letter was quite reasonable and decent. Von Schlieben felt confident that he’d be treated with all due courtesy when he became a prisoner of the Americans. You had to look at the bright side of things. The situation could be much worse.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Francine entered the little basement room underneath the Fleur-de-Lis Cafe on the Rue Garonne. Carpentier sat around the big table with some of the maquis and the Americans who’d recently arrived. The room was filled with cigarette and cigar smoke, and she wondered how men could sit in such an atmosphere.

  “You have the information?” Carpentier asked.

  Francine took off her beret and ran her fingers through her blonde hair. “Yes.”

  Carpentier appeared impatient. “Please sit down and give it to us.”

  Francine sat next to the handsome young American whose hair was the same color as hers. “I’m not going to tell you unless you do a favor for me.”

  Carpentier blinked as though he didn’t believe his ears. “What in the world are you talking about, woman!”

  “You heard me very clearly I’m sure,” she replied. “I’m not giving you any information whatever unless you do something for me first.”

  “What?”

  She looked at her hands. “I want you to capture Helmut and bring him down here so that he’ll be safe, because I’m afraid he’ll be killed in all the fighting and bombing.”

  Carpentier looked at Mahoney in disbelief. Mahoney puffed his cigar and didn’t change his expression because he wasn’t surprised by what she’d said. He’d seen a lot of strange things happen in the war already and nothing surprised him anymore.

  Carpentier turned to Francine. “Are you aware that you’re risking the lives of innumerable French people, not to mention American and British soldiers, for the sake of this Kraut?”

  She knitted together her eyebrows. “Don’t call him that. He’s a fine man.”

  “He’s a Kraut!” Carpentier shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

  “No he’s not,” Francine insisted. “He’s a very fine man.”

  Mahoney leaned toward her. “I suppose you’re in love with him?”

  She looked at her hands and said softly: “Yes.”

  Mahoney turned to Carpentier. “It will be impossible to reason with her.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Boynton, who didn’t understand much French.

  “She’s in love with some fucking Kraut and she won’t give us the information unless we kidnap him and bring him down here so that he’ll be safe.”

  “Good grief,” said Boynton.

  “I never met a woman in my life who wasn’t crazy.”

  “Can’t they make her talk?”

  “How can you make a woman talk if she doesn’t want to talk? And how can you make one shut up if she doesn’t want to shut up?”

  Boynton ran his hand down his face. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this behind-the-lines stuff.”

  Carpentier leaned toward Francine. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can say or do to change your mind?”

  “No.”

  Carpentier sighed. “Where can we find this filthy Kraut?” he asked.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and artillery shells were raining on the fortress. A lone figure in officer’s uniform and helmet ran across the bomb-pitted courtyard to the front gate, where two guards huddled in a bunker covered with sandbags.

  “It’s him again,” said one of the guards.

  “I wonder where the hell he goes?” asked the other one.

  “How should I know? Listen, it’s your turn to go out and open the gate.”

  “Didn’t I go last time?”

  “No, I went last time.”

  “That’s right, too.”

  The guard opened the door of the bunker and moved cautiously toward the gate, where Lieutenant Helmut Keller was standing, looking fearfully at the sky.

  “Your pass, sir?”

  Helmut showed it to him, and the guard opened the gate. Helmut ran across the street and hugged the buildings on the other side as he moved toward the part of town where Francine lived. The sidewalks were deserted and many of the nearby buildings had taken direct hits. It was possible that a shell would make a direct hit on him, but he had to see Francine. He was a young man in the prime of life and his blood was burning with love, therefore his judgment wasn’t working at peak efficiency.

  He moved quickly away from the fortress, because that’s where the heaviest bombardment was taking place. Presumably the troops at the front were being bombarded too, but the front still was on the outskirts of the city. Francine’s apartment wasn’t in the line of the American advance, but it was possible that if he spent the night with her, the Americans might cut off his path of return in the morning. But he didn’t care. The battle was nearing its end and the world was falling apart. The past several hours had been catastrophic, and he was ready to die if need be. He just wanted to spend a few more hours with his fair Francine.

  He was now several blocks from the fortress, and stopped running. Looking around, seeing nothing threatening, he continued on his way to Francine’s apartment. He thought of her blonde hair, long legs, and pert breasts. His penis became erect as he hurried through the streets of Cherbourg.

  He made his way down the Rue Diane and across the Boulevard Saint Martin. In his knapsack he had two pounds of bratwurst and a large can of beans. That would be their dinner, and then they’d make love. How glorious that would be. If only they could be married and live in a city where there was no war. They would have children and be a proper family. The war was making life so difficult, but he realized that if it weren’t for the war he never would have met the dear girl in the first place.

  He turned onto her street and crossed over to the side where her building was. No one else was about and he felt as though he was the last man on earth. A few cars were parked on the street, and halfway down the block was an old black bread truck. He walked along quickly, anxious to see his darling, and when he came abreast of the old bread truck, he didn’t notice the back door opening. Four men jumped out, and grabbed him before he knew what had happened. He opened his mouth to scream, but a big hand covered his lips and no sound would come out. The hand was so big it jammed against his nostrils, and he was afraid he’d suffocate. Terrified, struggling to get loose, he was carried by the four men to the back of the truck and pinned to the floor. They stuffed a gag into his mouth and tied his hands and feet as a fifth man sitting behind the wheel of the truck started it up and drove away.

  Chapter Twent
y-One

  The jeep came to a stop on a hill, and Lieutenant General Lightning Joe Collins got out, looking at Cherbourg through his binoculars. Other jeeps and trucks came to a stop behind it, and various officers and enlisted men unloaded. The convoy was the VII Corps tactical headquarters and Lightning Joe had moved it forward so that he could be closer to the front lines.

  Through his binoculars he could see that part of the city was in flames and nearly all of it was obscured by smoke. His forces were steadily pushing the Germans back, and he was wondering whether to order a special attack to break through the German lines and storm the fortress. He raised his binoculars but the smoke was too thick to permit observance of the harbor, and the harbor was the key to the situation.

  He returned his binoculars to their case and folded his arms, looking down at Cherbourg in its death throes. He could order the attack and it could easily take the fortress, but as soon as his troops got close he knew that von Schlieben would blow up the harbor. The main thing was to save the harbor if possible.

  He’d received word that only five of the Rangers had made it through the German lines, and that they hadn’t been able to sabotage the demolition system yet. He didn’t know whether to wait for the Rangers to complete their mission, or take the city and accept the consequences. He was losing troops by hanging back and waiting, but more troops would be lost in the long run if the Germans destroyed the harbor.

  Lightning Joe had to accept the fact that the Rangers might not be able to accomplish their mission. More than half of them hadn’t even made it to Cherbourg. Maybe it was expecting too much of ordinary GIs to stop the Germans from blowing up the harbor. Maybe he should just order his troops ahead and take the damn port. There was no sense laying back forever like this taking casualties. The sooner he captured the port the sooner work could be begun on rebuilding the harbor.