Read Online At the Narrow Passage by Richard Meredith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richard Meredith
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redcoats who remained stationed near
Paris and half a dozen other French cities to, as the British claimed,
"guard the person of the rightful King of France."
When Louis XVI died in 1803, at the age of forty-nine, and was succeeded
by Louis XVII, the British found a faithful servant in that weak-willed
monarch. For the remainder of his reign Louis XVII was more than happy
to allow British troops to protect him from his own people.
A string of other Louis' followed, none with the will or power to try
to throw off the British occupation. A brief attempt was made, however,
by the Duke of Gascony in 1868, but since no Joan of Arc stood at his
side, the duke found the only reward for attempting to free his nation
was a cell in the Tower of London and the hangman's noose.
By the beginning of the twentieth century local France accepted its
vassalage to England perhaps not unwillingly, realizing now the growing
power of the reborn Holy Roman Empire and the inability of France alone
to maintain its independence from the German Empire, even more hungry
for continental land than Britain.
The villa itself had been built by the Earl of Kent as a summer retreat
on a parcel of land deeded to an ancestor of his by the grateful Louis XVI
after the putting down of the Peasants' Rebellion.
Sitting on the bank of the Loire, five miles or so north of the center
of the new Beaugency, the villa's ground covered perhaps fifty or sixty
acres, half of it devoted to vineyards, for the Earl of Kent had had a
great weakness for French wines, and half to stables, for he had also
had a weakness for racing horses, mainly those of British Arabia.
The main house was an enormous, rambling, gingerbread structure, all
frills and lace and useless ornamentation, three stories of rococo
ugliness that the late Earl of Kent must somehow have found attractive.
Half a dozen outbuildings, servants' quarters and such, ringed the main
house, half protecting it from attack, half hiding it from the beautiful
countryside in which it had been built. The stables and their related
buildings were located some distance from the main house, and as far as
we knew they were now used as garages for German motorcars. A company
of elite, handpicked grenadiers inhabited the servants' quarters, and
Intelligence had told us that there were six black-booted bodyguards
living on the villa's main floor. Just where Count von Heinen and his
wife were dwelling in the house we did not know, though we believed that
they and the guards were at present the villa's only inhabitants. Von
Heinen, according to reports, had a passion for privacy. He had been
warned against it -- this morning he would learn why.
There were eight of us who came shivering out of the Loire into that
cold predawn drizzle in the spring of 1971. Sir Gerald and a Corporal
Land who had been in Tracy's boat were wounded, though neither very
seriously. Sir Gerald's bleeding had stopped, and despite the agony in
his leg, he had come to realize that the wound was not as bad as he had
feared. Using his rifle as a crutch, he could hobble along and with his
other hand use his .62 Harling if necessary. The corporal had a flesh
wound In his left forearm, and after allowing a cursory examination and
the application of dry bandages, he waved us away, saying that he had
fought with wounds a hell of a lot worse.
We stopped in the shelter of a poplar grove a good hundred yards from
the first building beyond the boathouse, unwrapped our weapons, checked
them for dryness, and then got out our gas masks.
The corporal from the final boat sat his heavy pack on the ground and
with the aid of Tracy's sheltered flashlight removed half a dozen gas
grenades designed to be fired from our Enfields.
Kar-hinter had given us a weapon that had not yet been used in battle --
at least not in this Line. It was a newly developed nerve gas, so we were
told, and would stun and render unconscious for periods
Paris and half a dozen other French cities to, as the British claimed,
"guard the person of the rightful King of France."
When Louis XVI died in 1803, at the age of forty-nine, and was succeeded
by Louis XVII, the British found a faithful servant in that weak-willed
monarch. For the remainder of his reign Louis XVII was more than happy
to allow British troops to protect him from his own people.
A string of other Louis' followed, none with the will or power to try
to throw off the British occupation. A brief attempt was made, however,
by the Duke of Gascony in 1868, but since no Joan of Arc stood at his
side, the duke found the only reward for attempting to free his nation
was a cell in the Tower of London and the hangman's noose.
By the beginning of the twentieth century local France accepted its
vassalage to England perhaps not unwillingly, realizing now the growing
power of the reborn Holy Roman Empire and the inability of France alone
to maintain its independence from the German Empire, even more hungry
for continental land than Britain.
The villa itself had been built by the Earl of Kent as a summer retreat
on a parcel of land deeded to an ancestor of his by the grateful Louis XVI
after the putting down of the Peasants' Rebellion.
Sitting on the bank of the Loire, five miles or so north of the center
of the new Beaugency, the villa's ground covered perhaps fifty or sixty
acres, half of it devoted to vineyards, for the Earl of Kent had had a
great weakness for French wines, and half to stables, for he had also
had a weakness for racing horses, mainly those of British Arabia.
The main house was an enormous, rambling, gingerbread structure, all
frills and lace and useless ornamentation, three stories of rococo
ugliness that the late Earl of Kent must somehow have found attractive.
Half a dozen outbuildings, servants' quarters and such, ringed the main
house, half protecting it from attack, half hiding it from the beautiful
countryside in which it had been built. The stables and their related
buildings were located some distance from the main house, and as far as
we knew they were now used as garages for German motorcars. A company
of elite, handpicked grenadiers inhabited the servants' quarters, and
Intelligence had told us that there were six black-booted bodyguards
living on the villa's main floor. Just where Count von Heinen and his
wife were dwelling in the house we did not know, though we believed that
they and the guards were at present the villa's only inhabitants. Von
Heinen, according to reports, had a passion for privacy. He had been
warned against it -- this morning he would learn why.
There were eight of us who came shivering out of the Loire into that
cold predawn drizzle in the spring of 1971. Sir Gerald and a Corporal
Land who had been in Tracy's boat were wounded, though neither very
seriously. Sir Gerald's bleeding had stopped, and despite the agony in
his leg, he had come to realize that the wound was not as bad as he had
feared. Using his rifle as a crutch, he could hobble along and with his
other hand use his .62 Harling if necessary. The corporal had a flesh
wound In his left forearm, and after allowing a cursory examination and
the application of dry bandages, he waved us away, saying that he had
fought with wounds a hell of a lot worse.
We stopped in the shelter of a poplar grove a good hundred yards from
the first building beyond the boathouse, unwrapped our weapons, checked
them for dryness, and then got out our gas masks.
The corporal from the final boat sat his heavy pack on the ground and
with the aid of Tracy's sheltered flashlight removed half a dozen gas
grenades designed to be fired from our Enfields.
Kar-hinter had given us a weapon that had not yet been used in battle --
at least not in this Line. It was a newly developed nerve gas, so we were
told, and would stun and render unconscious for periods
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