Read Online The Nazi Hunters by Damien Lewis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Damien Lewis
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enemy out, and he would prove to be a steadfast ally over the weeks to come.
During the previous day’s climb Hislop had suffered almost as much as had the concussed Druce. In the aftermath of his racing accident, Hislop had contracted jaundice and tonsillitis. During the trek he’d found it increasingly difficult to lift his rucksack after each rest period, and he’d practically crawled into the Maquis camp, dripping wet with perspiration. He’d begun to fear that his lingering illness had rendered him unfit for a mission such as this.
But as they set out that morning, Hislop felt like a new man. It seemed as if he’d sweated the sickness out of his system, the purifying mountain air giving him a new lease of life. As Souchal pushed on at a punishing pace, Hislop and his Phantom team stuck right on his shoulder. Souchal led them to a patch of mature deciduous woodland, which spread a high, cathedral-like canopy above the scene. It was less dense and dark than the coniferous forest which predominated in the area, and it was full of noisy bird life.
It should prove far easier amongst such lighter cover to raise a radio signal. As Corporal Davis rigged up their Jed Set, Hislop scanned their surroundings with eye and ear. To their front he could hear a pair of woodsmen working with some oxen, hauling timber out of the forest. Their musical cries, cut by the rhythmic crack of the oxen whip, rose above the forest quiet, providing a bass track to the morning birdsong.
For a Phantom, the moment of making first radio contact on a live mission was always one of high drama. More or less immediately the first letters of the HQ’s answering call sign could be heard, loud and clear. Davis punched a thumb into the air to signify success, but just as quickly the Jed Set went dead, a needle-thin wisp of smoke fingering out of the rear of the radio, betraying the fact that it had burnt out.
Luckily, they’d brought a second, back-up set, and Roger Souchal offered to go and fetch it, the 10-mile round-trip being as nothing to the young Maquis guide. While Souchal hurried off, Hislop lay beneath the trees, gazing up at the canopy above him and feeling as if all was well with the world. But still a small part of him sensed that somehow this was the calm before the gathering storm.
Souchal returned with the replacement Jed Set, accompanied by Victor Gough. With an injured signaller and broken radio to contend with, the Jedburgh captain would have to rely upon the Phantoms for communications, at least for now.
The second set functioned perfectly. ‘Landed safely. Skye damaged ankle. Fit in seven days. Have contacted Maximum . . . Are with Maquis group 2 kms south of Vexaincourt in Valley Celles-sur-Plaine.’
Vexaincourt was the nearest village of any size, lying in the Celles-sur-Plaine Valley, adjacent to that in which the Op Loyton team had landed. ‘Skye’ was Seymour’s (the injured Jedburgh) code name. From the tenor of the message, the calm and lack of perceived threat is clear.
But even as Hislop, Gough and Davis were making contact with London, Druce himself was becoming apprehensive. That morning a German Storch reconnaissance aircraft had circled over the Lac de la Maix base. Of course, Druce had no proof it was searching for him and his men, or even for the Maquis. But there was a new, and unexpected, arrival at the camp, who was convinced that the plane was on the lookout for the French and British fighters.
Lou Fiddick was a Canadian airman. During a July ’44 bombing raid he’d been shot down by a night fighter over Germany. Though injured, he’d spent a week walking out on the same bearing to that on which his bomber had flown in. He’d crossed the French border, made contact with friendly villagers, and they had brought him to the Maquis.
Fiddick could not have been happier to hook up with Druce’s force. ‘I was finally amongst people I could understand! I was also impressed by the fact that they had
During the previous day’s climb Hislop had suffered almost as much as had the concussed Druce. In the aftermath of his racing accident, Hislop had contracted jaundice and tonsillitis. During the trek he’d found it increasingly difficult to lift his rucksack after each rest period, and he’d practically crawled into the Maquis camp, dripping wet with perspiration. He’d begun to fear that his lingering illness had rendered him unfit for a mission such as this.
But as they set out that morning, Hislop felt like a new man. It seemed as if he’d sweated the sickness out of his system, the purifying mountain air giving him a new lease of life. As Souchal pushed on at a punishing pace, Hislop and his Phantom team stuck right on his shoulder. Souchal led them to a patch of mature deciduous woodland, which spread a high, cathedral-like canopy above the scene. It was less dense and dark than the coniferous forest which predominated in the area, and it was full of noisy bird life.
It should prove far easier amongst such lighter cover to raise a radio signal. As Corporal Davis rigged up their Jed Set, Hislop scanned their surroundings with eye and ear. To their front he could hear a pair of woodsmen working with some oxen, hauling timber out of the forest. Their musical cries, cut by the rhythmic crack of the oxen whip, rose above the forest quiet, providing a bass track to the morning birdsong.
For a Phantom, the moment of making first radio contact on a live mission was always one of high drama. More or less immediately the first letters of the HQ’s answering call sign could be heard, loud and clear. Davis punched a thumb into the air to signify success, but just as quickly the Jed Set went dead, a needle-thin wisp of smoke fingering out of the rear of the radio, betraying the fact that it had burnt out.
Luckily, they’d brought a second, back-up set, and Roger Souchal offered to go and fetch it, the 10-mile round-trip being as nothing to the young Maquis guide. While Souchal hurried off, Hislop lay beneath the trees, gazing up at the canopy above him and feeling as if all was well with the world. But still a small part of him sensed that somehow this was the calm before the gathering storm.
Souchal returned with the replacement Jed Set, accompanied by Victor Gough. With an injured signaller and broken radio to contend with, the Jedburgh captain would have to rely upon the Phantoms for communications, at least for now.
The second set functioned perfectly. ‘Landed safely. Skye damaged ankle. Fit in seven days. Have contacted Maximum . . . Are with Maquis group 2 kms south of Vexaincourt in Valley Celles-sur-Plaine.’
Vexaincourt was the nearest village of any size, lying in the Celles-sur-Plaine Valley, adjacent to that in which the Op Loyton team had landed. ‘Skye’ was Seymour’s (the injured Jedburgh) code name. From the tenor of the message, the calm and lack of perceived threat is clear.
But even as Hislop, Gough and Davis were making contact with London, Druce himself was becoming apprehensive. That morning a German Storch reconnaissance aircraft had circled over the Lac de la Maix base. Of course, Druce had no proof it was searching for him and his men, or even for the Maquis. But there was a new, and unexpected, arrival at the camp, who was convinced that the plane was on the lookout for the French and British fighters.
Lou Fiddick was a Canadian airman. During a July ’44 bombing raid he’d been shot down by a night fighter over Germany. Though injured, he’d spent a week walking out on the same bearing to that on which his bomber had flown in. He’d crossed the French border, made contact with friendly villagers, and they had brought him to the Maquis.
Fiddick could not have been happier to hook up with Druce’s force. ‘I was finally amongst people I could understand! I was also impressed by the fact that they had
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