Read Online The Dog Who Could Fly by Damien Lewis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Damien Lewis
Ads: Link
including the seven Czechs with the obedient German shepherd in their midst.
As he called the roll, the adjutant’s voice trembled and tears streamed down his face. He read Pétain’s announcement and the men listened in stunned silence.
“My comrades,” he concluded. “We are finished. The Boche already occupy Orléans and their Panzers are advancing. They are only twelve miles from here. The nearest railway station for trains south is Tours, twenty-five miles away. We can do no more. Save yourselves as best you can. Goodbye and God bless you all.”
It was all the adjutant could do to call each man forward and hand him his papers. To Robert and the other Czechs he gave their French Foreign Legion pay books, the only identity documents they possessed. Finally, overcome with emotion, the adjutant retreated into the house. His country had been betrayed and the world as he had known it was obliterated.
It was obvious to all that if they stayed together, then sorting transport and food while remaining hidden from the omnipresent enemy would be impossible. Their only chance was to split up. The seven Czechs were joined by Pierre and his closest French friend, Jacques Chevalier, with Ant of course completing the party.
The sound of a tank column drawing nearer, its guns blazing, spread panic among local villagers, who fled with what possessions they could. The nine airmen tried to talk things over more calmly. Since they regarded Pétain’s order to lay down arms as unacceptable, their aim had to be to fight on. They needed an objective and a destination,they reasoned. If they could not fight in France, their destination had to be the one place that might help them lift the iron heel of oppression from their homelands. They would head for the one country still holding out against the Germans—Great Britain.
Making that decision was the easy part. The challenge was working out how to get there. Not a man among them would ever think of abandoning his flying kit, and they could barely move with each of them having a pair of bulging leather suitcases. As airmen, they naturally planned to beg, borrow, or steal a plane that would take them to the English coast, from where they would carry on fighting the Boche as warriors of the air.
A rapid search confirmed that everything on wheels in the immediate vicinity had already been pressed into service. They were almost resigned to making their flight on foot, laden down with their baggage, when they came across a large, brightly lit house on the edge of Le Breuil. It made an incongruous contrast with the dark and deserted dwellings all around it. Not only were lamps blazing in every room, but the sound of laughter spilled out of open windows. And was that singing? On closer inspection the men saw that a party was in full swing, and the partygoers appeared to be celebrating the imminent arrival of the Germans.
Collaborators!
Cold fury concentrated the minds of the airmen. Apparently, this champagne-swilling fifth column had arrived in dozens of cars of all shapes and sizes, betraying that a wide variety of renegades had been willing to deliver their country to the enemy, no doubt in return for positions of petty influence under the coming occupation. The vehicles were parked in a large courtyard inside the gates. Standing watch over them was one guard, with a revolver tucked in his belt.
“Keep moving,” hissed the tall, fair-haired “Uncle” Vlasta, the oldest member of the group. “Don’t do anything suspicious. If we can fix him, we can help ourselves to some transport.”
The friends walked on for a quarter of a mile before halting to discuss how to do away with the guard. It was Uncle Vlasta, the most experienced and battle-hardened of the Czechs, who came up with the plan—one in which Ant, predictably, was to play the pivotal role. Vlasta stressed that whatever else, the guard must not be allowed to fire his revolver or raise the alarm in any way.
When they
As he called the roll, the adjutant’s voice trembled and tears streamed down his face. He read Pétain’s announcement and the men listened in stunned silence.
“My comrades,” he concluded. “We are finished. The Boche already occupy Orléans and their Panzers are advancing. They are only twelve miles from here. The nearest railway station for trains south is Tours, twenty-five miles away. We can do no more. Save yourselves as best you can. Goodbye and God bless you all.”
It was all the adjutant could do to call each man forward and hand him his papers. To Robert and the other Czechs he gave their French Foreign Legion pay books, the only identity documents they possessed. Finally, overcome with emotion, the adjutant retreated into the house. His country had been betrayed and the world as he had known it was obliterated.
It was obvious to all that if they stayed together, then sorting transport and food while remaining hidden from the omnipresent enemy would be impossible. Their only chance was to split up. The seven Czechs were joined by Pierre and his closest French friend, Jacques Chevalier, with Ant of course completing the party.
The sound of a tank column drawing nearer, its guns blazing, spread panic among local villagers, who fled with what possessions they could. The nine airmen tried to talk things over more calmly. Since they regarded Pétain’s order to lay down arms as unacceptable, their aim had to be to fight on. They needed an objective and a destination,they reasoned. If they could not fight in France, their destination had to be the one place that might help them lift the iron heel of oppression from their homelands. They would head for the one country still holding out against the Germans—Great Britain.
Making that decision was the easy part. The challenge was working out how to get there. Not a man among them would ever think of abandoning his flying kit, and they could barely move with each of them having a pair of bulging leather suitcases. As airmen, they naturally planned to beg, borrow, or steal a plane that would take them to the English coast, from where they would carry on fighting the Boche as warriors of the air.
A rapid search confirmed that everything on wheels in the immediate vicinity had already been pressed into service. They were almost resigned to making their flight on foot, laden down with their baggage, when they came across a large, brightly lit house on the edge of Le Breuil. It made an incongruous contrast with the dark and deserted dwellings all around it. Not only were lamps blazing in every room, but the sound of laughter spilled out of open windows. And was that singing? On closer inspection the men saw that a party was in full swing, and the partygoers appeared to be celebrating the imminent arrival of the Germans.
Collaborators!
Cold fury concentrated the minds of the airmen. Apparently, this champagne-swilling fifth column had arrived in dozens of cars of all shapes and sizes, betraying that a wide variety of renegades had been willing to deliver their country to the enemy, no doubt in return for positions of petty influence under the coming occupation. The vehicles were parked in a large courtyard inside the gates. Standing watch over them was one guard, with a revolver tucked in his belt.
“Keep moving,” hissed the tall, fair-haired “Uncle” Vlasta, the oldest member of the group. “Don’t do anything suspicious. If we can fix him, we can help ourselves to some transport.”
The friends walked on for a quarter of a mile before halting to discuss how to do away with the guard. It was Uncle Vlasta, the most experienced and battle-hardened of the Czechs, who came up with the plan—one in which Ant, predictably, was to play the pivotal role. Vlasta stressed that whatever else, the guard must not be allowed to fire his revolver or raise the alarm in any way.
When they
Similar Books
