CODENAME: ATHENA (2025 Edition) by Michel Poulin - HTML preview

CHAPTER 24 – RAID ON WISSANT

01:25 (Paris Time)

Thursday, February 06, 1941

Fields east of Wissant,

Coastal area of the Pas de Calais

France

Nancy landed in a field near Pihen-les-Guines, a small French village six miles

East of Wissant, on the coast of the Pas de Calais. She was heavily loaded with an

armored assault vest and assault helmet, her assault rifle, night vision goggles,

directional microphone, two pistols, a radio, a signal lamp and ammunition. Nobody had

heard her plane or seen her land, since she had jumped in HALO12 mode, like on the

raid on the prison near Gravelines. The nearest known German positions were two

miles away and the night was pitch dark. Gathering and hiding her parachute took less

than two minutes.

Her first task was to orient herself and determine accurately her position, so that

she could guide the platoon of commandos due to join her in less than an hour. She

wished silently that she had a functioning GPS receiver with its constellation of satellites,

but had to make do with a compass and a map. Walking directly North from her landing

point, she hit a road after covering half a mile, then turned West and followed the

drainage ditch alongside the road. She soon encountered a road sign indicating that she

was following the Départementale 244 road. After another 500 yards, she arrived at a

tiny village. Searching for a good five minutes, she finally found a sign indicating that

she was in Wadenthun. Checking her map, she saw with satisfaction that she was

where she wanted to be. Taking off her equipment pack and grabbing her silenced

Ruger target pistol, fitted with a laser dot sight, she explored the quiet village to make

12 HALO mode parachute jump: High Altitude, Low Opening. The parachutists jump

from plane at high altitude, then freefalls down to a much lower altitude before opening

his parachute. A technique routinely used by Special Forces soldiers in order to achieve

surprise or stealth on landing.

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sure that no Germans were in it. After fifteen minutes of cautious searching, she was

satisfied that none were around and returned to the spot where she had hidden her pack.

Putting her pack back on, she walked southward for 300 yards through the waist-high

grass and brush before stopping and getting out her signal lamp. The lamp had a long

black tubular baffle to avoid being seen from anywhere but directly in front. At precisely

two O’clock, she switched on the lamp, directing it skyward and blinking its light in a

precise pattern.

17,000 feet above, Major George Townsend, standing in the opened door of the

converted Armstrong Whitworth Whitley Bomber, saw the blinking light at the same time

as the navigator. Turning towards his twenty Royal Commandos and the four RAF

personnel they were escorting for this mission, he then talked through his oxygen mask.

“The beacon light is on, directly below us. Get ready!”

He watched on as the commandos, wearing assault armor, formed up in single file

behind him. Mixed within their ranks were the two men and two women of the RAF,

much less heavily loaded than the commandos and without assault armor. The four of

them had been chosen for this mission for their good knowledge of the German

language and for their familiarity with air traffic control and radar procedures.

“Grab the leashes!”

Everybody took hold of the short elastic rope with handle dangling from the back of the

person in front. The leashes, if everything went well, would keep the group together as

they fell through the night sky. During the practices, it had worked well three out of four

times.

“Remember, step lively and jump out without hesitation! On my mark, one, two,

three, GO!”

Running out of the plane door back-to-belly, the 23 men and two women fell together in

the dark sky, towards Nancy’s blinking light. At 6,000 feet, Townsend tapped on the arm

of the commando behind him, who in turn made the same signal to the RAF woman next

in line. The signal went down the line, then back up, each parachutist loosening their

grip on their handle after passing back up the signal. As soon as he received back a tap

on his arm, Townsend opened his parachute, followed in quick succession by the others.

Now gliding at altitudes ranging between three and four thousand feet, the 25 British

converged on Nancy’s light. To Nancy’s delight and considerable relief, all of them

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landed safely within one hundred yards of her position, with Major Townsend and

another commando actually landing practically on her back. It took ten minutes to

regroup the raiders, after which Nancy led them single file towards Wadenthun. From

there, using her night vision goggles and directional microphone, she guided them in the

direction of Wissant and the coast.

05:23 (Paris Time)

Wissant

Nancy silently came back towards George Townsend and the other British

soldiers kneeling alongside a wall in a dark and narrow alley of Wissant. Her voice was

barely above a whisper.

“The French resistance reports were accurate. The headquarters of the

JagdFliegerFührer 213 are in the town hall, on the other side of this block of buildings. I

could see a total of four Luftwaffe sentries in front of it. There is a house and bakery

shop just across the street from the town hall’s main entrance. The street is less than

twenty yards wide at that point. I found a back entrance to that bakery shop which

should be easy to break in without making noises.”

“Excellent!”

Townsend was still amazed at how easy it had been up to now. There were actually

three good reasons for it being so: first, the fact that the local German Wehrmacht troops

were watching the sea and had all their heavy weapons pointed that way; second, with

the area being so heavily used by the Luftwaffe for its fighter airbases, rear area security

had naturally been handed over to Luftwaffe troops who, in Townsend’s opinion, made

poor sentries; and, last but not least, Nancy’s planning itself. When it came to combined

arms special operations, she had revealed herself to be a real genius at them, being

both fiendishly devious and innovative. Nobody on General Joubert’s staff could come

close to her when it came time to plan an apparently impossible mission. The general

had clearly seized on her qualities and had made sure a number of times that the War

Office staff in London knew about that. As a result, she had already earned the

nickname of ‘Dirty Tricks Nancy’, apart from her German nickname of ‘Die Wolfin’.

13 JagdFliegerFuhrer: Fighter division

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Following Nancy along a narrow alley between two house blocks, the British

raiders stopped behind a brick house, with Townsend then quietly braking open the door

designated by Nancy. The 26 men and women then disappeared inside the bakery shop.

Jean Poissant was startled out of his sleep by the firm contact of a hand covering

his mouth. His wife Marthe was similarly awakened besides him. With a feeling of panic,

they looked at the two large silhouettes looming over them in the dark upper floor

bedroom. A woman’s voice, speaking in perfect French, then calmed them down a bit.

“Do not be afraid, we don’t want to harm you. We are British soldiers and need

your house to hide in it for a while. If you agree to be quiet, nod your heads.”

They both nodded and the hands came off their mouths. The middle-aged couple then

cautiously sat in their bed, still watched by the woman and her companion.

“Is there anybody else in the house, mister…?”

“Poissant, Jean Poissant. This is my wife Marthe. My eight-year-old daughter

Diane is sleeping in the bedroom next door.”

“Please have your wife wake her up and bring her here. We don’t want to scare

her.”

“Can I switch on the light first?”

“Wait!” said urgently the woman’s voice. “At what time do you routinely wake up

in the morning?”

“Er, no later than six O’clock: I have to prepare the day’s batch of fresh croissants

and bread.”

“Then, switch you bed lamp on.”

He did so and his eyes bulged with surprise, while Marthe took in her breath. Both the

man and woman wore armored vests and helmets which made them look like medieval

soldiers. The woman got most of their attention: extremely tall and broad-shouldered for

a woman, she had the expression of someone you didn’t want to mess with. Jean then

saw her rank insignia and twitched: he had fought alongside the British in the 1914-18

war and still could recognize the crown and two pips of a colonel.

“You’re a colonel?”

Marthe looked at Jean, then at the woman with disbelief. The woman then urged them

on.

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“Please bring your daughter here now, we have much to do.”

“Marthe, go get Diane!”

While his wife went to fetch their daughter, Jean scrutinized both soldiers. Their

expressions, while not exactly friendly, were not hostile either, maybe just cautious.

“What do you want from us?”

“Mister Poissant,” answered the woman, still in perfect French, “I simply want you

and your family to follow your normal morning routine, serve your customers and keep

quiet about our presence here, that’s all. We plan to attack the German headquarters

across the street later in the morning. We were going to leave you tied-up and gagged

so that the Germans would not harm you after, but…”

Jean understood her hesitation. He would have been willing to take his chances with the

Germans, since he and Marthe could cling to a likely story. With Diane, it was another

matter: an exuberant and talkative little girl, it would not take much of an interrogator to

make her divulge the truth, even without using the dreadful methods of the Gestapo.

What followed anyway sent that solution down the drain. Marthe came back with little

Diane, still half-asleep. Instead of being frightened by the soldiers, Diane instead

became all excited after a single look at the woman.

“Mom, dad, it’s Nancy Laplante, the she-wolf from the future!”

“Oh dear…” whispered Nancy, as Jean and Marthe stared at her while Diane

jumped up and down with joy.

08:05 (Paris Time)

Bakery shop, Wissant

“Where is your cute little girl, Mister Poissant?” Asked in fair but slow French the

young German female Luftwaffe helferin as she was about to leave the shop with the

customary daily order of croissants for the personnel of the headquarters where she

worked. Jean, a nervous wreck inside, forced a smile on his face.

“I’m afraid that she is feeling sick today and has to stay in bed. In fact, I believe

that I’m coming down with the same virus as hers.”

The German teenager instinctively stepped away from the counter.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Please wish her a prompt recovery on my part.”

“Thank you, Fraulein Weiss, I will do that. Have a good day.”

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The German girl then left the store, crossing the street and entering the headquarters

with her bags of croissants. Nancy Laplante left the corner where she was hiding but

stayed away from the shop window.

“The local Germans seem to be fairly decent with your family, Mister Poissant.”

“They are on the most part polite, some like this young one being actually friendly

and likeable. I have seen worst Germans than this bunch.”

Nancy nodded her head. Luftwaffe personnel generally had a reputation for being more

civilized as occupants than the Wehrmacht, probably because they were on the whole a

better educated and more technically oriented lot.

“That last one looked awfully young to wear a uniform. She looked no more than

seventeen years-old to me.”

Jean smiled at Nancy’s comment.

“Her NCO confided to my wife once that she suspected as much, but that she

could not prove that Ingrid is underage. Personally, my bet is that she is sixteen, no

more. She told me once that she lost her whole family in a British bombing raid.”

Nancy bit her lower lip, looking thoughtfully at the German headquarters building across

the street.

“We will try to keep casualties to a minimum. Our plan is to take them prisoners

anyway, not to kill them if we can help it. I…”

The arrival of a German staff car escorted by two motorcyclists then cut her off. The

driver of the staff car hurried to open the rear right door as the Luftwaffe sentries

presented arms. A very senior-looking German officer then stepped out of the vehicle,

followed by an aide. Nancy, grabbing her small binoculars, swore quietly in surprise and

delight.

“It’s GeneralFeldMarshal Kesselring, commander of Luftflotte14 2!”

“Is he that important?”

“You bet he is! He must be here to conduct an inspection. What a piece of blind

luck!”

She then looked at her watch.

“It is nearly time now. Remember, once the shooting starts, stay low and

especially stay away from glass panes: there may be a lot of flying glass later on.”

14 Luftflotte: Air fleet

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On a short order from her, the commandos hiding on the floor above the shop came

down, taking position behind the counter. When they were all ready for the assault,

Nancy ordered Jean Poissant upstairs and, kneeling besides the entrance, cautiously

poked out of the slightly opened door the muzzle of her silenced pistol. After carefully

selecting the order of her targets and waiting for the sentries to look away from each

other, she quickly fired five shots, then grabbed her assault rifle and flung the door open

before starting to run towards the German headquarters. Twenty-five British men and

women rushed to follow behind her.

08:17 (Paris Time)

JagdFliegerFuhrer 215 headquarters

Wissant, France

“What more do you want me to do, Herr GeneralFeldMarshal?” exploded

General-Major Osterkamp. “My fighter division is at less than forty percent of nominal

strength and I lost nearly all of my experienced pilots in September. Add to that the fact

that the British bombers are now faster than my fighters. I need more aircraft and faster

ones too!”

“That is out of the question for the moment.” answered Kesselring in a resigned

voice. He knew that Osterkamp was right but had been ordered by ReichMarshal

Goering to gain back air supremacy over France, or else.

“Our fighter aircraft factories have been hit very hard by these new British bombs

and are having problems resuming production. As for faster fighters, we have

something in the works but they are still at least one year away from entering service.”

“Then, GeneralFeldMarshal, you can tell that fat effeminate in Berlin that we have

lost the air war over France and Belgium.”

Kesselring didn’t reply to that at first. Osterkamp was a competent commander and had

done as best as anybody could in the present circumstances.

“If it would not have been for that damn Wolfin!”

15 JagdFliegerFuhrer 2: German for ‘Second Fighter Command. Early in WW2, it

commanded all the Luftwaffe fighter units based in Northern France, Belgium and the

Netherlands.

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Osterkamp nodded at Kesselring’s frustrated remark.

“She sure played a trick or two on us. Her knowledge is costing us the war. Too

bad the Russians didn’t get her in Washington.”

“What can you expect from those incompetents? It seems that they only

succeeded in making her meaner.”

They both looked in frustration at the ‘wanted’ poster with the picture of Nancy Laplante

pinned to one of the walls of Osterkamp’s office. That was when loud automatic fire

rang out from inside the building. Reacting instinctively, Kesselring took out his pistol

and flung the door of the office open, stepping in the large air operations center. He was

immediately confronted by several armed soldiers wearing armored vests and helmets

with faceplates.

“DROP THE GUN, NOW!”

That command had been shouted in German. Sensing that he would only endanger the

lives of his airmen if he resisted, Kesselring let his pistol drop and raised his hands

above his head, imitated by Osterkamp, who slowly walked out of his office. They were

quickly searched and then pushed towards the line of Luftwaffe personnel facing one of

the walls, their hands crossed behind their necks. Kesselring was placed besides a very

young helferin16 who was sobbing, completely terrorized by her ordeal. By then all firing

had stopped, proving that the British were now in full control of the building. They had to

be British, even with those weird armored suits. Kesselring saw that the British were

now methodically searching the Germans one by one, starting at the other end of the

line he was in. Using the best English he could muster, he shouted, still facing the wall.

“I’m GeneralFeldMarshal Kesselring. I want to speak to your commander.”

He heard footsteps approach before somebody grabbed him and turned him around. He

looked at the tall British soldier, who was still wearing his faceplate down, noticing the

slip-on with the crown and two pips of a colonel. The officer spoke in good German, the

voice muffled by the faceplate.

“What do you want?”

“There are female auxiliaries here. Your men must not search them.”

“Agreed! I will thus search them myself.”

“You bastard! How can…”

16 helferin: German female auxiliary, with rank equivalent to a private

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Kesselring’s sudden rage died down as soon as the colonel raised her faceplate.

“YOU?”

Kesselring was now staring at the same face he had just looked at on the poster inside

Osterkamp’s office.

“Correct, Herr GeneralFeldMarshal. Colonel Nancy Laplante, at your service.

Your concern for your female personnel is appreciated. I assure you that all of your

people will be treated correctly, as long as there is no resistance.”

“You don’t seriously expect to get away with such a hare-brained raid, Miss

Laplante?”

“Oh, I think I will, Albert.”

“DON’T CALL ME BY MY FIRST NAME, YOU…”

“THEN CALL ME BY MY RANK, GENERALFELDMARSHAL!”

Laplante then slung her rifle across her back and pulled out a huge gold-plated pistol

before grabbing the young helferin besides Kesselring. She then pushed the small

teenager with reddish-brown hair towards Osterkamp’s office. The girl squealed in terror,

probably expecting to be executed. Laplante patted gently the girl’s back, speaking

softly in German to her.

“Don’t worry, Ingrid, I am just going to do a quick search on you. You have

nothing to fear. By the way, you should have given your real age to the Luftwaffe

recruiter.”

Ingrid’s look of terror changed abruptly to one of utter

surprise. Staring for a moment at the smiling face of her

captor, she then walked by herself in the office. Nancy

closed the door behind her before starting to search the

German teenager. She didn’t find any weapon or

interesting document on Ingrid Weiss, exactly as she had

expected. Nancy then examined closely the girl, trying to

guess her real age. She was tall for a girl, standing about

175 centimeters tall, and had a well-developed, feminine

body with long, shapely legs. Her angelic and very beautiful face was framed by

medium-length reddish-brown hair and she had big sparkling blue eyes. Her youth

however showed up on her face, something Ingrid seemed to have tried to hide with

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some makeup and lipstick. Nancy spoke to the girl in a soft tone, keeping her volume

low.

‘’What is your age, Helferin Weiss?’’

She saw a flash of apprehension in the eyes of the girl before she answered.

‘’I am nineteen, Colonel.’’

Nancy gave her a critical look.

‘’Ingrid, don’t take me for an idiot. I was myself a precocious girl in my youth. I

promise you that I will keep your answer to myself.’’

‘’I am seventeen, Colonel, truly.’’ replied Ingrid in a voice she tried to keep firm. ‘’And I’m Prime Minister Churchill. Listen, Ingrid, I respect your desire to serve

your country but being a prisoner of war is no picnic. On the other hand, the Geneva

Conventions forbid the taking of children as prisoners of war.’’

‘’I’m not a child!’’ said heatedly Ingrid, before realizing that she had overreacted.

Nancy looked at her with sadness.

‘’Ingrid, you joined the Luftwaffe because of the death of your family in a British

bombing, right?’’

Tears came out of the teenager’s eyes at that question and she lowered her head,

answering between sobs.

‘’Yes! All my family died that day, including my grand-parents, my uncles and my

aunts. We were celebrating my grandfather’s birthday and my father sent me out to go

buy more wine and beer. When I came back, there was nothing left of our house but

burning ruins. I was about to be fifteen and…’’

Ingrid couldn’t go on then and cried, her hands covering her face. Feeling bad for the

girl, Nancy got close and hugged her in her arms.

‘’I am sorry for your family, Ingrid, truly. I myself lost my parents in a car accident

when I was sixteen. I have been managing alone since then. So, you are now fifteen?’’

‘’Yes! My anniversary is on September the seventh.’’

Nancy thought with bitterness about all the suffering and tragedies caused by wars, still

holding Ingrid in her arms. She finally stepped back and looked the teenager in the eyes.

‘’Ingrid, I promise you to keep your real age a secret if you really want to stay with

your comrades. I am also ready to let you go now, if you wish so, in view of your age.

Think well about that: captivity is no fun.’’

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‘’I…I can’t abandon my comrades like this, Colonel. What would they think of me

after that? What would I think of myself?’’

Nancy nodded her head, impressed by this young girl with such a tragic past but who

had kept her sense of honor and self-esteem through such adversity.

‘’Very well! For me, you are officially nineteen, Ingrid. You can now go and join

back your comrades, Helferin Weiss.’’

The teenager wiped away the last of her tears, then came to attention and saluted

Nancy, using a military salute rather than the Nazi salute. Nancy returned her salute

before escorting her back to the line of prisoners and then picking up another female

auxiliary to search her.

After all the Germans had been searched, including the seven female auxiliaries,

they were bound and gagged before being lined once again against the western wall of

the air operations center. Kesselring then noticed with no small surprise that two of the

four British in RAF uniforms were women. One of the telephones near the main plotting

board soon rang. One the RAF women then answered it in fluent German.

“JagdFliegerFuhrer 2 headquarters! … No, no problems at all, sir. A group of

French underground terrorists tried to attack us but were repelled with heavy casualties

to themselves. Our men are hunting them down right now… Thank you, sir!”

“Good work, Corporal Martin!” said Nancy Laplante to her after she put down the

telephone. Another telephone rang a minute later, picked up by the other RAF woman.

“JagdFliegerFuhrer 2 headquarters! … British bombers heading towards us?

One moment please!”

The female sergeant then yelled towards the corporal standing by the plotting board,

making sure the caller could hear her.

“British bombers on the way! Stand by to plot!”

She then returned her attention to the caller, yelling the bearing, distance, speed and

altitude as she got them.

“We are scrambling a wing of fighters as I speak, sir. Keep us informed.”

Nobody of course called a fighter airbase to pass that information on. Mortified,

Kesselring started to understand what game the British were playing: by seizing this

headquarters, they would temporarily paralyze all German fighter activity over Northern

France, Belgium and the Netherlands, thus opening the skies to massive British bomber

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attacks. His own bomber airbases were likely in for a terrifying pounding. Four more

calls from radar stations were similarly decoyed before Laplante yelled in English.

“TWO MINUTES TO FIRST AIR STRIKE! TAKE COVER AND STAY AWAY

FROM THE WINDOWS!”

She then switched to German for the benefit of her prisoners.

“Our bombers are about to pound the coastal defenses and airfields around

Wissant. It will probably feel like judgment day but don’t worry: we are not part of the

target list, at least not the intentional one.”

Kesselring didn’t find that joke funny. Young Ingrid didn’t either. The noise of heavy

bombers approaching then got their full attention.

“EVERYBODY DOWN!” Yelled Laplante, doing so herself. Less than a minute

later, what sounded and felt like the end of the world shook the whole building,

shattering all the windows. Seven more huge blasts quickly followed, the last one close

enough that the blast wave, penetrating through the broken windows, temporarily

knocked out the breath of everybody inside. Kesselring understood that the British were

using the same dreadful blast bombs which had literally blown away the fighter factories

in Germany. Ingrid was by now hysterical, her screams of terror only muffled by her gag.

Laplante crouched besides the teenager and firmly grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Ingrid! … Ingrid! You wanted to prove something to yourself by enlisting, right?

Then prove it now by being brave. Control yourself!”

The teenager looked at her briefly before starting to cry. Laplante held her in her arms,

trying to soothe her with calming words. Kesselring and Osterkamp looked at each other

in puzzlement. Then, another wave of heavy bombers approached.

Karl Gross watched with horror from his company’s dug-in positions on a hill

northeast of Wissant as the battalion’s forward positions along the beaches were swept

by gigantic blast waves. The British bombs were falling over half a mile away, yet each

blast knocked him flat against the earthen back wall of his trench, nearly taking his

breath away. He thought that everybody in those forward positions must have been

crushed to death by the overpressure. Then another wave of bombers approached at

low altitude. He followed one of them with his eyes as it was coming directly at him, its

bomb bay opened. A single, huge bomb fell out of it, a parachute deploying from its tail

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and braking its fall. Gross could do nothing but watch in abject terror as the bomb

headed directly towards his trench.

09:22 (Paris Time)

JagdFliegerFuhrer 2 headquarters

Wissant

After the fourth wave of bombers was gone, Nancy Laplante let go on Ingrid, who

had mostly quieted down by now.

“Are you alright, Ingrid?”

The teenager nodded her head. Laplante then went to talk with another British officer.

She next went to a soldier wearing a field radio on his back and talked in the microphone

for a while. After another few minutes, what sounded like multiple aircraft engines

approached from the direction of the sea. That was when Laplante got moving and

yelling again.

“THE RIDE HOME IS ARRIVING! PACK UP AND GET READY TO MOVE!

WARRANT HIGGINS, GET THE PRISONERS TO THE MAIN ENTRANCE!”

Still gagged and with their hands tied in their backs, the Germans were firmly but not

brutally put on their feet and walked to the main entrance. Laplante, waiting by the

opened door, saw them shiver as the cold outside air blew in on the Germans. She then

looked at the nearby cloakroom, full of German overcoats.

“Warrant Higgins!”

“Yes, Maam?” answered the British NCO in charge of the prisoners. “Bring each prisoner in turn inside that cloakroom and have them find and put on

their coats. Make sure there are no weapons or interesting papers inside the pockets

first.”

“I’m on it, Maam!”

As Kesselring was putting on his own overcoat, he heard the noise of heavy

tracked vehicles approaching. His anticipated joy at seeing a Wehrmacht armored

column deliver them was doused by the attitude of the British soldiers, who did not look

alarmed one bit. He then understood with a pang that the column must be British. As

they were being lined up outside by the British, the Germans saw the first of four tanks

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turn a corner towards them. Kesselring could see immediately that the machine was no

German tank: the impressive beast now close by could apparently eat raw for lunch a

Panzer IV, the most powerful German tank in service at this time. The four tanks,

followed by what looked like four armored troop carriers, sped by them before taking

position at the next corner. Three British trucks then stopped in front of the

headquarters building. Three of the six British soldiers who jumped out of the trucks

were women. Nancy Laplante pointed at the middle truck and yelled in German.

“All male prisoners will now get on this truck. Move!”

She then took aside the seven female auxiliaries and the two general officers.

“You go in the last truck.’’

Letting two armed commandos escort the Germans to the truck, Nancy walked quickly to

the bakery shop, where Jean Poissant was locking the door of his house, his little family

standing on the sidewalk with six suitcases at their feet. The baker had tears in his eyes

as he looked for a last time at his home.

“We are abandoning our whole life but I suppose that it is better than waiting for

the Gestapo to visit us later. For the sake of my little Diane, let’s go.”

Nancy escorted the Poissants to the third truck, helping at the same time to carry their

belongings. By then, the rapid fire of tank guns could be heard from the South. Nancy

shouted at both German generals.

“That, gentlemen, is the rest of our mechanized force finishing off what’s left of a

couple of your airfields.”

Stepping aside from the truck, she then signaled to Major Townsend, standing beside

the lead truck, to start rolling. Climbing in the cab of her truck, Nancy sighed discreetly

in relief as the convoy rolled out, escorted by the four tanks and four armored personnel

carriers: this mission had gone even better than she had hoped for, with no British

casualties so far in her group.

Both the German prisoners and the Poissant family opened wide their eyes in

surprise and awe when they got to the beach: lined up on the sand, their vehicle ramps

lowered, were fourteen LCMACs.

“Mein Gott!” exclaimed Kesselring. “I have never seen such machines before.”

“Colonel Laplante designed them, General.” said proudly one of the German-

speaking female RAF NCOs escorting the prisoners of the third truck. Kesselring swore

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when their truck approached a machine with the marking LCMAC-1 on its side: visible

between the two large shrouded propellers sitting on top of the big machine was a tube-

like apparatus he recognized easily enough.

“Himmel!” he said in a low voice to Osterkamp. “That damn woman stole our

pulse jet engine design. It was meant to equip one of our secret weapons, one I saw

during a recent inspection in Germany. Is there anything she doesn’t know about us?”

Those words then struck Osterkamp hard, as they made him realize something awful.

“Our Enigma encoding machines! She must know everything about them as

well.”

Kesselring’s jaw dropped at those words. Before he could say something, the female

RAF sergeant waved her revolver at him.

“No more talking, General. Sit down and stay quiet.”

Their truck soon climbed the aft ramp of LCMAC-1 with the two other trucks. As soon as

they were on board, Nancy climbed down from the truck cab and yelled above the din of

the hovercraft’s engines.

“THE PRISONERS WILL STAY SEATED IN THEIR TRUCKS, EXCEPT FOR

QUICK TRIPS TO THE HEADS. NO TALKING WILL BE PERMITTED BETWEEN THE

PRISONERS.”

She then repeated the same thing in German. Before going to the bridge of the

hovercraft, she helped down from their truck the Poissant family, then led them up a

steep ladder. Nancy was greeted upstairs by Peter Stilwell, still officially LCMAC-1’s

commander. He reported to her after saluting her.

“The rest of the force is returning now, Colonel. No casualties or damage

reported by the landing force. It seems that nearly all the Germans in the area were

already dead when they arrived at the airfields. They have collected an additional

eleven prisoners.”

“At ease, Mister Stilwell! Let me present you Jean, Marthe and Diane Poissant.

They were forced to abandon their bakery shop and home in Wissant for fear of German

retaliation.”

Stilwell then surprised Nancy by speaking a few sentences in a fair French before he

had the Poissants sit down on the seats alongside the aft bulkhead of the bridge. Nancy

used the first opportunity to speak discreetly with Stilwell.

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“You still plan to bring LCMAC-1 back to Bristol via the Thames River and the

canal system?”

“That’s correct. You need a lift up to London, I suppose?”

“It would be appreciated, Peter. I’m thinking of offering the Poissants the

hospitality of my apartment until I can arrange something else. After all, I put them in hot

water. It’s only fair that I help them now.”

“You have a point, Nancy. I will wait for you while you transfer custody of your

prisoners in Chatham.”

“Thanks!”

Nancy then went to the radio room to send a brief post-mission report to London and a

short message to the Royal Navy base in Chatham to warn them of the impending

arrival of the Luftwaffe prisoners. As she was coming out of the radio room, she saw

that the mechanized unit landed by the hovercrafts was now back on the beach and was

in the process of reentering the LCMACs. She also saw a group of British soldiers

pushing in front of them a dozen or so German prisoners towards LCMAC-1.

‘’Aah, more guests! I am going down to the vehicle deck to greet them, Peter.

As soon as all our troops are back aboard our hovercrafts, then give the signal to return

to Chatham.’’

‘’Understood, Nancy.’’

Going down rapidly to the vehicle deck, Nancy asked three commandos to follow her

and went to the bow ramp to greet the soldiers escorting in the extra eleven prisoners,

who were wearing various Luftwaffe uniforms. The sergeant in charge of the group

saluted her at rigid attention.

‘’Eleven more prisoners for you, Colonel, courtesy of the Coldstreams Guards.’’

‘’Thank you, Sergeant! You may return to your hovercraft. Give a Bravo Zulu17

from me to your commander for a job well done.’’

‘’It will be done, Colonel.’’ nearly shouted the sergeant before saluting her and

pivoting on his heels to walk down the ramp. Nancy then looked at the group of eleven

Germans, who wore long faces, and spoke to them in German.

 

17 Bravo Zulu: Military expression often used on the radio to congratulate someone for a

job well done.

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‘’Gentlemen, if you may climb into the second truck. Our next stop will be

England. Do not speak during the trip and stay sitting. If you need to use the latrines,

raise a hand and ask permission to one of your guards.’’

She then signaled to the corporal in charge of the commandos.

‘’Get them in the second truck, Corporal.’’

‘’Yes maam! COME ON, JERRIES, STEP LIVELY!’’

As the new prisoners were walking past the truck carrying the two generals and seven

female auxiliaries, young Ingrid Weiss suddenly got up from her bench and shouted at

one of the new prisoners.

‘’KLAUS! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?’’

The young German fighter pilot she had addressed turned his head, surprised, then

started to walk towards Ingrid’s truck.

‘’Ingrid? And you? Are you alright?’’

One of the commandos escorting the pilot then pushed him brutally back in line.

‘’Back with the others, Jerry!’’

Ingrid then protested at once in English and started to swing one leg out of the truck.

‘’DON’T TOUCH HIM, YOU BASTARD!’’

The R.A.F. women guarding Ingrid grabbed her quickly, dragging her back in the truck

and pushing her down on the cargo floor. That seemed to enrage the young German

fighter pilot, who pushed back his own guard. Nancy ran to them as two commandos

were starting to pummel the fighter pilot with their rifle butts.

‘’STOP THAT! EVERYBODY CALM DOWN!’’

She arrived just in time to prevent a commando to shoot a bullet in the pilot’s gut.

‘’I SAID STOP! I’LL TAKE CARE OF THIS.’’

As the commandos stepped back, Nancy grabbed the German pilot by his collar and,

with a strength that surprised the man, pulled him on his feet.

‘’So, Lieutenant, what happened here?’’

‘’They were brutalizing Ingrid. I couldn’t let them do that.’’ protested the young

man, who was quite handsome.

‘’So, you know each other, hey? Come with me, Lieutenant!’’

She guided the pilot towards the back of Ingrid’s truck and shouted an order.

‘’Sergeant, let Helferin Weiss come down.’’

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As soon as her guards let her go, Ingrid ran to the rear gate of the truck and jumped

down on the vehicle deck, then immediately hugged the pilot. Nancy couldn’t help smile

at that scene as the two Germans covered each other with kisses. She finally patted the

pilot’s shoulder.

‘’I am sorry to interrupt your lovers’ reunion, but I need a few answers. First,

what is your name, Lieutenant?’’

‘’Klaus Bayerling, Colonel. Thank you for your intervention.’’

‘’Don’t thank me yet, Lieutenant. You have known Ingrid for a while?’’

‘’Since about three months ago, Colonel.’’

‘’And is that a serious relationship?’’

Ingrid then answered for Klaus.

‘’Klaus is a really nice man, Colonel. I like him a lot.’’

‘’I see! Listen, I hate to be a bearer of bad news but you are now both prisoners

of war and you will probably end up being separated for a few years. You better accept

that fact and avoid a repeat of the latest stunt, which could have killed you. If it may

make you feel better, Lieutenant, I promise you that Ingrid will be treated humanely, as

you will be. With some luck, you may even end up in a camp in Canada. You may now

exchange a last kiss.’’

Klaus and Ingrid didn’t have to be told twice, exchanging a long, sensual kiss that drew

amused encouragements from the other female German auxiliaries. Nancy was amused

as well and waited patiently for the couple to be finished, then had the pilot escorted to

his truck. As Ingrid was about to climb back in her truck, Nancy whispered in her ear.

‘’You have a good taste in men, Ingrid.’’

That made the teenager grin.

‘’Thanks, Colonel!’’

11:03 (GMT)

Chatham naval base

Thames River’s estuary

England

One good and one bad surprise awaited Nancy at the naval base in Chatham as

her truck rolled off the bow ramp of LCMAC-1 and onto the cobblestones of the quay.

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The good surprise was when she saw her Mitsubishi Outlander parked near the quay,

with Mike Crawford standing beside the car. Directing her driver to stop near the

Outlander, Nancy jumped out and ran to Mike, kissing him passionately. He returned

her kisses, oblivious of the German prisoners watching them from the truck. They finally

parted, both grinning from ear to ear.

“You lovely hunk! How sweet to think of meeting me here.” ‘’Hey, anything to be close to you, baby.’’

“Hmm, I see! Well, you will have three more passengers to bring back to London.

Wait here, I won’t be long.”

Walking to the back of the truck, Nancy signaled the Poissants to come down and

helped them unload their suitcases. Once the French were down, Nancy presented

them to Mike, explaining the reasons for the Poissants to be on board LCMAC-1. After

more than four months of seriously dating Nancy, Mike Crawford’s French, while not

fluent, was good enough for him to exchange a few greetings. That helped put at ease

the Poissants, who gingerly loaded up their suitcases in the Outlander and got in the car.

Nancy grabbed Mike by his right arm and spoke to him in a low voice.

“Since you are here, could I use your services as a diplomatic attaché from a

neutral country?”

“I suppose it has to do with those German prisoners?”

“Bullseye! Can you follow my truck to the transfer point? It should not take long.”

“If it is for a humanitarian reason, I will be happy to help.”

“Thanks, Mike, I appreciate that.”

Climbing back in the truck’s cab, Nancy had the female driver join up with the two other

trucks on a nearby parade square. A navy commander greeted her there, a sheepish

smile on his face.

“Colonel Laplante, I’m Commander Paul Hart, delegated by the base commander

to take charge of your prisoners. A section of RAF policemen should arrive from RAF

Gravesend anytime now to take care of your Luftwaffe prisoners. Er, you should have

specified that you had female prisoners too: I have no facilities for women prisoners of

war here.”

Nancy sighed. It was actually mostly her fault: she had assumed, based on her era’s

experience, that female prisoners’ facilities would be available as a given.

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“Alright, Commander, where are the nearest facilities for female prisoners of war,

then?”

Hart looked embarrassed by her question.

“Well, that is a sticking point, actually: there are no such facilities in the whole of

England, short of using prisons for female criminals. This, I believe, is the first time in

this war that we have captured German women.”

Nancy stared at him with a mix of disbelief and anger.

“Commander, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you lock up those German women

alongside criminals. There must be a proper place for them somewhere.”

“If there is one, I’m afraid I don’t know about it. I’m sorry, Colonel.”

A truck loaded with RAF policemen then screeched to a halt besides them then, followed

closely by two empty trucks. A RAF junior officer jumped out of the cab of the first truck

and yelled to his men to get out. Being on the opposite side of the truck from Nancy,

she could not see him, but his voice was all too familiar to her. She turned red with rage

and yelled at Hart.

“You expect me to give up custody of seven young women to HIM?”

“What are you talking about? He’s the base security officer at RAF Gravesend

after all. What’s your problem, Colonel?”

“Don’t you know why he was demoted and transferred out of Northolt,

Commander?”

Hart shook his head, truly at a loss to understand her anger. Nancy thus explained one

thing to him.

“The why, Commander, is because he likes personally performing strip searches

on women prisoners, starting with me.”

Hart paled, realizing the magnitude of his gaffe.

“What shall we do then?”

“I will tell you what I will do, Commander. I will give you custody of my male

prisoners and will hold you responsible if they are mistreated in any way by Flying

Officer Harris or by his men. As for my female prisoners, I will keep custody of them

until I can find suitable facilities with female military guards for them. Major Crawford,

from the American embassy, will now take a detailed list of the prisoners handed to you.

Be advised that you have as part of the lot a Luftwaffe field marshal and a major

general.”

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“Christ! You bagged some truly big fish, Colonel.”

‘’Let’s say that the fishing was better than expected, Commander.’’

Mike Crawford soon had a complete list of the prisoners, with names, dates of

birth and service numbers, and joined Nancy before she went to see Kesselring. The

couple saluted politely the Luftwaffe Field Marshal before Nancy spoke.

“GeneralFeldMarshal, I have to separate from your group the seven helferinen, in

order to find suitable facilities for them. Again, I give you my word that they will be well

treated. Major Crawford, from the American embassy, has a list of all the Germans

captured in Wissant today. That list will soon be transmitted to German authorities via

diplomatic means.”

“I will personally ensure that the rights of your auxiliaries are fully respected, sir.”

added Mike, getting a nod from Kesselring.

“That is most satisfactory, Major. Colonel Laplante, I wish that everybody would

be as humane as you during this war.”

‘’Thank you, GeneralFeldMarshal. Maybe we will see each other again at the

end of this war.

‘’Maybe, Colonel.’’

Nancy and Mike saluted again Kesselring, who returned their salute before he was led to

the truck that would bring him to a prisoner of war camp. Nancy took back her place in

the cab of the truck still carrying the seven female auxiliaries, while Mike sat behind the

wheel of the Mitsubishi Outlander, which screamed anachronism besides the British

trucks. Both vehicles then went up the stern ramp of LCMAC-1. Once its ramps were

up, the hovercraft inflated again its air skirts and went back on the Thames, sliding

speedily on the river’s surface.

11:55 (GMT)

Bridge of the LCMAC-1

Thames estuary

“Hey, how are you, T.L.G.? Married life is still good?”

Peter Stilwell vigorously shook Mike’s right hand as he stepped on the bridge of LCMAC-

1, followed by Nancy. The Lucky Guy smiled back at Peter.

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“Everything is just fine, especially with the married life.”

“I’m truly happy to hear that, Mike. Couldn’t happen to a better guy…except me,

of course.”

“Peter,’’ said Nancy, ‘’would you have a problem if I wanted to bring my female

prisoners on the bridge? It is awfully claustrophobic on the vehicle deck.”

“Christ! You should try submarines before complaining about my hovercraft.”

“I visited one once: I hated it. So, can I bring them up?”

“As long as they are kept under armed guard and stay quiet, yes.”

“Done deal!”

Nancy then headed down towards the vehicle deck, to come back up after a few minutes

with the seven German women, three female guards and the Poissants. Stilwell offered

them the jump seats around the bridge, with some having to keep standing in the now

crowded bridge. Stilwell partially solved the problem by sitting little Diane Poissant in the

lap of the helmsman and offering his command chair to young Ingrid Weiss, who was

quite surprised by being given that honor by an enemy officer.

A while later, as Stilwell was using a deserted stretch of the Thames to show little

Diane how to steer, Ingrid suddenly looked embarrassed and closed her legs tighter.

Nancy, watching her at the time, got close to her and whispered in her ear.

“Is it your time of the month, Ingrid?”

She nodded her head, blushing slightly.

“I… I don’t have tampons with me. I’m also afraid that I stained my only

underwear.”

“Go to the lavatory and use toilet paper for the moment. I will take care of the

rest once in London.”

Nancy then switched to English and looked at one guard.

“Corporal Martin, please escort Ingrid downstairs to the lavatory.”

Nancy then checked discreetly the amount of money in her wallet and made a face: she

would have to stop at her bank first.

13:48 (GMT)

London

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“Here we are folks! Old, picturesque London.” said Stilwell as they were about to

pass under the Tower Bridge. Nancy looked up at the crowd of pedestrians now forming

on the Tower Bridge, staring and waving at the hovercraft.

“Well, we are certainly a tourist attraction now, Mister Stilwell. Anyway, the

LCMACs are now old news for the Germans. No harm done here.”

“Colonel, you can be sure that I cleared my itinerary in advance with the

Admiralty. I am authorized to transit in public view with this craft: it is not considered a

secret anymore. Now, I believe you should go down and get ready to disembark: I am

about to dock.”

“We’ll do! Thanks for the ride.”

“It was a pleasure. See you at the office on Monday morning.”

Nancy and the RAF guards then gathered the German prisoners and led them down to

the truck, while Mike had the Poissants take place in the Mitsubishi Outlander. The

Outlander was the first to roll off when the bow ramp lowered. Mike, following Nancy’s

directives, sped immediately towards her St James’ Place apartment, where the French

would stay temporarily. Nancy, carrying her assault rifle, preceded the truck on foot as

they rolled on the London Tower Pier. As soon as they were off, the bow ramp rose and

LCMAC-1 backed off before speeding upstream.

Nancy was met in front of Middle Tower, which guarded the main entrance of the

Tower of London, by a captain of the Royal Fusiliers Regiment, the resident army unit at

the Tower. She returned the captain’s salute and showed her PMO’s pass.

“I’m Colonel Laplante, Military Advisor to the Prime Minister. I have with me

seven female German prisoners captured this morning in France. I was told on my

return at Chatham that there are no proper facilities in England for female prisoners of

war. Would somebody here be able to help me or at least tell me where to go? After all,

this place is famous for having held quite a few female prisoners in the past.”

The captain smiled at those words.

“True, Colonel, but I doubt that your prisoners would appreciate using the cells in

the Beauchamp Tower, or try the chopping block. Maybe Gaoler’s House would do. Let

me ask the advice of the Governor of the Tower on this.”

“You are most kind, Captain.”

The infantry officer came back fifteen minutes later.

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“I’m sorry for the delay, Colonel. The Governor said that he may be able to help

you out but needed a couple of hours to do some phone calls and arrange something.

You can leave your prisoners with us in the meantime.”

“Thanks for the offer, Captain, but I first need to procure some personal female

hygiene items for my prisoners. We should be back in a few hours. Would this be

convenient to the Governor, Captain?”

“I believe so, Colonel. We will be expecting you then.”

He saluted her again before she climbed in the cab of the truck. Nancy looked at the

female army driver, a big woman with rugged features.

“Do you know London well, Corporal Woolsey?”

“I sure do, maam: I’m from the Marylebone District.”

“Excellent! Our first stop will be my bank on St James’ Street, near the corner of

King Street.”

“On my way, Colonel!”

With 300 pounds sterling in cash now in her pocket, Nancy left her bank and

stopped briefly to buy the day’s newspaper. She then gave the paper to corporal

Woolsey, still sitting in the cab of her truck, before entering a nearby drugstore. She

went out ten minutes later with two large shopping bags and climbed back in the truck.

“Proceed to Piccadilly and turn right on it. We are looking for a women’s clothing

store selling underwear, bathrobes, informal outfits, that sort of stuff.”

“I know just the place for that, Colonel. We will be there in two minutes.”

After a short trip, the truck stopped in front of a nondescript store near Piccadilly Circus.

“Here you are, Colonel: lots of variety, reasonable quality and low prices.”

“Spoken like a sensible woman, Corporal. This stop will be a bit longer.”

“Take all your time, Maam. I will read the newspaper in the meantime.”

Jumping down from the cab, Nancy went in the store alone at first and asked for the

manager. A middle-aged woman came to her, eyeing with some nervousness her

weapons.

“What can I do for you, Miss?”

“Actually, madam, I have outside seven German female prisoners of war which

were captured with no kit or spare clothes whatsoever. I need to buy things for them, if

you don’t mind. Don’t worry about rationing stamps: this is a military cash purchase.”

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“Are these women dangerous?”

Nancy smiled and shook her head.

“Not as much as me. Do you have another exit apart from the front door?”

The store manager showed her a curtain covering the entrance of a narrow hallway

ending on a back door. Satisfied, Nancy went outside and to the back of the truck.

“Sergeant, we will escort the prisoners inside this shop so that they can kit

themselves out. Corporal Martin, go first inside and stand guard at the rear exit. It is

covered by a gray curtain. Sergeant, you will guard the main door once the prisoners

are inside.”

Nancy then switched to German.

“Listen to me carefully, ladies! You will enter this store and choose spare clothes

for yourselves. Don’t worry about paying the bill: I will! I will also vet your choices of

items, so keep your tastes to somber colors, preferably gray, black or dark blue.

Unterfuhrerin Hauser, you and your girls are still military personnel. I expect you to keep

your subordinates under control.”

“Understood, Colonel!”

The seven delighted Germans then jumped down from the truck and entered the store,

watched by the nervous manager and her young sales clerk. Nancy went quickly to see

corporal Woolsey, handing her thirty pounds.

“I believe that I saw a shop close by that was selling some travel bags and

suitcases. Try to find seven kit bags of the same color. Duffel bags would be perfect if

you can find some. Also, try to find seven pocket English-German conversation books.

Make it quick, please.”

“On my way, Colonel.”

Nancy then reentered the store, finding the Germans happily going through the shelves

and racks under the curious eyes of the store manager. Nancy grabbed Unterfuhrerin

Hauser and showed her a number of various clothing items, telling her how many of

each her subalterns could take. She then stood beside the cash register and waited

patiently while the Germans made their choices. Corporal Woolsey joined her twenty

minutes later, her arms loaded with gray duffel bags.

“Excellent work, Corporal! Did you also find the conversation books?”

“Yes, Maam! They are in the top duffel bag. Here is your change, by the way.”

“Thank you!”

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Nancy lined up the seven duffel bags in front of the service counter and distributed

evenly the books, along with the hygiene items she had bought at the drugstore. As

each German showed up at the counter with her selected items, Nancy had them priced

and registered by the manager before they were stuffed in one of the duffel bags, which

was then given to the waiting German woman. Nancy paid the happy store manager,

ensuring to get a certified copy of the bill for future reimbursement. The delighted

Germans were not at the end of their surprises for the day, though. Going back in the

truck with their stuffed duffel bags, they found themselves stopping again after only a

short ride. Nancy jumped out of the cab and pointed her favorite Lebanese restaurant to

them and the guards.

“Everybody out! It’s lunchtime!”

A group of off-duty RAF pilots walking down the sidewalks of Piccadilly Street watched

on in utter amazement as seven Luftwaffe women and three RAF servicewomen eagerly

jumped down from the truck and entered the restaurant. Young Ingrid Weiss winked at

the four fighter pilots and playfully blew a kiss at them, attracting a disgruntled comment

from one of the British.

“Bloody hell! Wait until I try explaining to the lads back at the squadron that a

German Luftwaffe girl tried to bag me in downtown London.”

‘’Yeah, but what a girl!’’ replied another pilot, smiling while following Ingrid with

hungry eyes. ‘’Did you see those legs?’’

15:51 (GMT)

Tower of London

Corporal Woolsey’s truck stopped on the Tower Wharf just past St Thomas’

Tower. This time a high-ranking officer greeted Nancy alongside the Royal Fusiliers

captain who had met her earlier. Nancy was relieved to also see a detachment of army

servicewomen standing inside the entrance of the fortress. Climbing down from the

truck’s cab and slinging her rifle, she signaled to the RAF escorts to stay in the truck with

the prisoners, then walked to the senior officer and stopped in front of him, saluting him

smartly. The brigadier general, a tall, slim graying gentlemanly officer with a large

moustache, returned her salute as she presented herself.

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“Colonel Laplante, reporting from France with seven German female prisoners of

war, sir.”

“At ease, Colonel! I’m Brigadier General Browning, Governor of the Tower. I’m

happy to tell you that I was able to solve your problem, Colonel. As you suspected

earlier, there were no camps for female prisoners of war in England, mostly because we

had no female prisoners of war… until now that is. Your scrupulous respect of the laws

of war is both noted and commended, Colonel: too many officers would have washed

their hands of this problem and would have dropped those German women in whoever’s

hands they found. Anyway, since I know very well Sir John Dill, the Chief of the Imperial

General Staff, I was able to arrange for the Tower of London to become our first official

camp for female prisoners of war. Hopefully, you will not bring too many more of them in

the future, since our capacity for prisoners is strictly limited.”

Nancy smiled warmly at the brigadier. The man conducted himself more like a

grandfather than a prison warden, which suited her just fine.

“I see that you have female guards available, sir. Do any of them speak German,

sir?”

“I am told that at least one guard per shift speaks German. I believe that you

speak German yourself, Colonel, correct?”

“Correct, sir. May I prepare the prisoners for your inspection, sir?”

“Please do, Colonel.”

Saluting before turning around, Nancy made the RAF escorts line up the seven

Germans besides the truck, then returned to the brigadier.

“The prisoners are ready for your inspection, sir.”

“Very well, Colonel.”

His officer’s stick under his left arm and looking very much like an old-style aristocrat,

Browning went to the first German and, stopping in front of her, inspected her from head

to toe before surprising both the Germans and Nancy by speaking in perfect German.

“I gather by your insignias that you must be the highest-ranking member of this

group, miss?”

“Yes, sir! Unterfuhrerin Anna Hauser, sir. Where did you learn such good

German, sir?”

“In Colditz Castle, while I was a prisoner of the Germans during the First World

War. Having spent four years in an old fortress myself, I can appreciate what you are

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facing now. I can assure you that you and your subalterns will be treated with respect

here. Are you or the others in need of anything at the moment?”

“No, sir! Colonel Laplante provided us with spare belongings.”

“Indeed? Colonel Laplante, report to me, please.”

Browning glanced at the stuffed duffel bags lying behind the prisoners, then at Nancy.

“Colonel, did you kit out those women out of your own pocket?”

“Yes sir, I did! They had nothing with them, not even a change of underwear,

and it was becoming urgent to do something about it, sir.”

“Very well, then. I will forbid the guards from confiscating any of those items now

in the prisoners’ possession. Do you have receipts for all this?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Then I will handle the reimbursement procedure for you, as the Camp

Commandant.”

“Very well, sir.”

Nancy then gave to Browning her receipts. The brigadier pocketed them before going to

the second prisoner in the lineup, who shouted her rank and name.

“Oberhelferin Bertha Reinholdt, sir!”

Browning had a quick look at the brunette in her early twenties before stepping in front of

the next German.

“Flugmeldhelferin Ingrid Weiss, sir!”

The British brigadier frowned as he examined the teenager, her angelic face framed by

shoulder-length reddish-brown hair. Browning turned his head to look at Nancy.

“This one is making me feel like a grandfather, if you see what I mean, Colonel.’’

‘’She definitely has a ‘Lolita’ look to her, but she is a girl of character, Brigadier.

She is also a war orphan: she lost her whole family in an air bombardment.’’

‘’A tragedy, truly.’’ said Browning, then taking two steps. The next girl in line also

made Browning frown. She was a baby-faced blonde with pretty features and a pair of

spectacles which gave her the looks of a college girl.

“And how old are you, Helferin…”

“Ilsa Bauman, sir! I’m eighteen, sir!”

Browning looked briefly at the three last girls, Martha Pfalz, Gertrud Schwarz and Ruth

Brandhauer, who appeared barely older than Bauman, and shook his head.

“The eagerness of youth…”

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He then walked to a position five paces in front of the prisoners and faced them, then

spoke in German to them.

“Ladies, welcome to the Tower of London. I am Brigadier General Charles

Browning, Governor of the Tower and now responsible for your well-being for the rest of

this war. If any of you know about the rather sinister past history of the Tower, do not be

afraid: we are rather more civilized now than in the sixteenth century. Female guards

will be available at all times, so that your dignity as women can be fully respected. You

are however still military personnel: I expect you to salute the officers you see when you

are in uniform. When in civilian clothes, then simply stand at attention when speaking

with superiors or guards. If you have a problem of any kind, you have only to ask to

speak to me or to my adjutant, Captain Nicholson. This is a right, not a privilege. You

will be permitted to send and receive letters and parcels, subject to revision by censors

of course, as well as to receive periodic visits from International Red Cross officials and

from neutral diplomats. Sports and recreational facilities will be made available regularly.

You will eat the same food as my men and will take your meals at the Waterloo Barracks.

Please do try not to whet the appetite of my young men too much, ladies.”

A couple of the younger Germans smiled at his joke. Browning then went on.

“Since Colonel Laplante has taken such good care of you up to now, I will grant

her permission to visit you at will and to bring you any comfort or basic necessity items,

except of course for alcohol.”

Nancy then snapped to attention and shouted.

“Thank you, sir! May I recommend as a neutral diplomat a friend of mine who

happens to be the American Assistant Army Attaché? He could also arrange for these

women’s mail to be forwarded quickly to Germany via the American embassy in Berlin.”

“That sounds like a fine idea to me, Colonel. Please give his name and

telephone number to my adjutant after this. Now, follow me all to your new quarters,

ladies.”

With Browning in the lead and Nancy tailing, the prisoners passed through the Middle

Tower gate, where four female British guards joined them, then passed the Byward

Tower gate. Once inside the outer walls, the group walked down Water Lane, passing

by the Bell Tower on their left before turning left and entering the inner yard of the

fortress through Bloody Tower. They were then confronted to their front right by the

massive square structure of the central keep, White Tower. Climbing a few steps, the

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group soon turned left and found itself on a paved surface surrounded by a grass lawn.

Browning waved his right arm around him.

“This is Tower Green, where the public executions were held centuries ago. The

big building behind and to the right is the Waterloo Barracks, where you will eat. To your

right is the royal chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, where those of you who wish to pray can

go. It is a protestant chapel, by the way. The big, bleak tower to your front is the

Beauchamp Tower. It was used in the past to hold many prisoners and is none too

comfortable. You will end up in one of its solitary cells if you don’t behave, ladies, and I

assure you that you will not like your stay, especially during winter. To your immediate

right, this wooden block marks the spot of the scaffold where a number of young women,

including Queen Ann Boleyn, lost their heads. The youngest person to be beheaded

here was Lady Jane Grey, executed in 1554 at the age of seventeen for usurping the

throne of England.”

Browning glanced discreetly at Ingrid Weiss and saw her pale as she unconsciously

raised her hand to her throat.

“Do not be worried, ladies: we

do not behead prisoners anymore.

We simply shoot them these days.

Now, to your left is King’s House,

my official residence. Your own

quarters will be in an annex of King’s

House: Gaoler’s House. It is named

like this because it was the

residence of the Gentleman Gaoler and of his family.”

Quite sobered by now by Browning’s speech, the seven Germans followed him inside

the three-story, timber-framed Tudor house. The prisoners’ eyes opened wide at the

sight of the varnished wood interior and fine wood furniture in the ground level hall they

found themselves in.

“Mein Gott, I was not expecting such luxury for us!” exclaimed Anna Hauser, to

Browning’s delight.

“Wait until you see your room, Unterfuhrerin Hauser.”

Going up a decorated wooden staircase, the brigadier led them to the first floor, where

he invited Hauser to enter the Gaoler’s bedroom. He then swept his hand around the

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large room, which was comfortably furnished with antique pieces of furniture, including a

large canopy bed and a huge wooden chest. A large fireplace occupied half of one wall,

while a triple window helped illuminate the oak-paneled room. Three electric lamp

fixtures were the only modern concessions in the room.

“This is now your room, Unterfuhrerin Hauser.”

The 24-year-old beautiful brunette slowly went around the bedroom, touching the old

wood furniture, before sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at Browning with her

fascinating gray eyes.

“This is incredible, General. You are spoiling me.”

“Not at all! Leave your duffel bag here while I show the other ladies their rooms.”

Browning showed them four more bedrooms, with the last and smallest one in the attic

reserved for young Ingrid Weiss.

“This was originally the room of the Gaoler’s youngest servant. It was also used

by Lady Jane Grey’s lady-in-waiting while she was imprisoned in the Tower. That

servant followed Lady Jane to the scaffold, but was not beheaded herself, contrary to

her young mistress. The frame of the bed is still the original one from the 16th century,

but the mattress itself is a bit more recent. Will this room do, Helferin Weiss?”

“It will do perfectly, sir. Thank you for your kindness.”

“It’s my pleasure, Helferin Weiss.” said softly Browning, who was already starting

to feel affection towards the young German girl. “I will now show you the various

facilities in this house. It may be old but it was retrofitted some years ago with standard

plumbing and electrical appliances. You should be quite comfortable here.”

They ended up back in the ground-level hall fifteen minutes later. Nancy thanked

the brigadier, then looked at the seven Germans.

“Ladies, I will now contact the American embassy so that an attaché can visit you

and collect your first letters for home. The war is still on for me but be assured that I will

regularly check on your well-being. I will also try to arrange for periodic recreational

activities for you.”

“Colonel,” said Anna Hauser, “you are much too kind with us. How could we

thank you?”

“By showing to Brigadier Browning and his men that you are true soldiers worthy

of respect, Unterfuhrerin. Conduct yourselves properly and be proud of being Germans.

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In my time, Germany had been able to redeem its nazi past and was a good ally of

Canada and Great Britain. There are thus no reasons to hate each other. I certainly

don’t hate you and I hope that you will be able to consider me as a friend, not as an

enemy.”

“You are certainly a strange woman, Colonel.” said Hauser cautiously. “Of course! Don’t I come from the 21st Century? Have a good evening, ladies.”

After a last salute to Brigadier Browning, Nancy left Gaoler’s House and walked

out of the fortress, linking up with the three RAF women still waiting besides corporal

Woolsey’s truck.

“You performed splendidly today, ladies. Before I dismiss you back to your

respective units, I would like to invite you for a beer at my place. We could also watch a

film together.”

“What kind of film, Colonel?” asked corporal Martin. Nancy grinned maliciously. “An erotic film made in 2012. Its title is ‘Magic Mike’ and it features lots of nice-

looking male strippers in it.”

“Hell, let’s go then!” replied eagerly corporal Woolsey, who then started up her

truck.

Back in Gaoler’s House, the seven German young women took the time to

unpack their duffel bags and to put away their things in their respective rooms before

meeting again in the ground level hall of the building. Anna Hauser looked at her six

subalterns, now sitting with her around a massive varnished oak table. Most of those

girls would still be in college or working on a farm if not for the war, but they all had

volunteered to serve their country instead. Anna knew them quite well, well enough in

fact to know that none of them were what one could call fanatical Nazis. Most had

enlisted out of a thirst for adventure and a desire to see more of the World. Some had

joined to break out of the suffocating mold the average German woman was normally

forced into, where she was relegated to taking care of children and doing housekeeping

chores. Anna herself was one of the former ones, while Bertha Reinholdt and young

Ingrid Weiss were probably in the same category as her.

“Girls, while this is not my idea of fun, we still can thank our luck: we all are in

one piece and healthy. We were also lucky in having to deal with enemies who proved

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correct with us. As Die Wolfin said herself, we are still German military personnel and

we will conduct ourselves as such. If we have to go somewhere as a group, we will then

march as a military group. I also will not tolerate a sloppy dress from any of you. While I

won’t expect you to spit your shoes every day, I want you to show to those British that

we are worthy of respect. Am I clear on that?”

Her six subalterns nodded as one, their faces solemn.

09:01 (Berlin Time)

Monday, February 10, 1941

Luftwaffe headquarters, Berlin

Germany

General Major Karl Reinholdt, Chief of personnel services of the Luftwaffe, rose

from behind his desk and returned the salute of the American Army Air Corps attaché

before shaking his hand and showing him a comfortable sofa in the corner of his office.

“What can I do for you, Herr Major Stanfield?”

The American officer elected to stay on his feet, offering to Reinholdt a box as he spoke.

“General Major, I am here on a humanitarian mission. This parcel from our

embassy in London is destined to your department. It contains personal letters from

seven German female Luftwaffe auxiliaries captured last Thursday in France by the

British. They are now being held in the Tower of London. One of our attachés in

London visited them, along with our ambassador and a photographer, and forwarded

these letters for delivery to the families of these women.”

“They put them in the Tower of London?”

Reinholdt’s tone of voice was both indignant and horrified. He was a well-educated man

and knew enough of the bloody history of the Tower of London to make his hair rise at

the thought of young German women being held there. The American officer speedily

reassured him.

“Sir, I assure you that things are not what you think them to be. Our ambassador

in London filled a report on the living conditions of your women. Here it is, along with

two sets of pictures taken both of each prisoner and of their quarters.”

Major Stanfield was surprised to see tears appear in General Reinholdt’s eyes as he

went through the photographs and the report.

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“Is something wrong, sir?”

Reinholdt looked tearfully at one of the photographs before passing it to the American.

“My daughter Bertha is one of those auxiliaries, Major. I had feared her dead

after she went missing in Wissant. Please pass my heartfelt thanks to your ambassador

and to your attaché in London. I will make sure that those letters and pictures get to the

families of the other women.”

“It was truly a pleasure, General. I am also authorized to tell you that our

embassy would be happy to speedily forward to these women any personal mail or

parcels for them, as well as to continue to deliver their mail to Berlin.”

Reinholdt’s face reflected at once joy and gratitude.

“You would do that? In that case, expect a few letters to be delivered to your

embassy within a week. Again, thank you so much, Major.”

Reinholdt vigorously shook Stanfield’s hand and accompanied him to the main office of

his department on his way out, then returned in his office to carefully inventory the

content of the box. Apart from the letters, photographs and the American ambassador’s

report, there was a list of both the seven women and of the 26 men captured in Wissant,

with their full names and service numbers. Putting aside the list, visit report,

photographs and Bertha’s letter, he looked quickly at the addresses on the five

remaining envelopes: two of them were destined to the Berlin area, one to Hamburg,

one near Hanover and one to Bavaria. He then picked up his telephone and ordered his

aide to come and see him. Hauptmann Rudolph Maier was in nearly immediately.

Reinholdt explained first to him the reason for major Stanfield’s visit, then told him to

take notes.

“Get two dispatch riders now. One will deliver immediately those two letters with

attached photographs in the Berlin area. The other will deliver the other letters to our

central post office, for priority shipping. The first rider is to wait for the two families he

will contact to write response letters. He will then pick them up and return here to hand

them to me personally. You will attach a note with each of the letters from London,

explaining the mailing arrangement and giving our address for forwarding any further

mail they would want to send. Any questions?”

“No, sir!”

“Then get to it!”

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As Maier left his office, Reinholdt realized that there had been seven auxiliaries named

on the list, but only six letters delivered. Looking at the list again, then at the group

picture showing seven women plus the American ambassador and a tall American army

major, he isolated the individual picture of a very young looking auxiliary, along with her

name and service number. Bringing those to his secretary, he ordered her personal file

to be brought to him, along with finding out about any family she could have. Another

aide was then tasked by Reinholdt to personally call the families of each man and

woman on the list of prisoners and advise them that their loved ones were alive and well.

Only then did Reinholdt go back to his desk to open and read his daughter’s letter. He

had to read it twice, so incredible was the story of her capture, her trip to London,

including her shopping spree, and of her internment in the Tower of London. He

whispered to himself as he contemplated Bertha’s signature.

“Thank you, Colonel Laplante.”

Reinholdt then called his wife and spent ten minutes giving her the good news.

Reinholdt was nearly finished writing a report on the whole affair, for the attention

of the Luftwaffe’s Chief of Staff, when his secretary came in his office, Ingrid Weiss’ file

in her hands.

“Here is the file you requested, sir. I also found out about her family: all her

relatives were killed in the British bombing of Berlin in August. There are however some

anomalies in her file that I could not explain, sir.”

“Like what exactly, Frau Fischer?”

“Well, there are no copies of her birth certificate anywhere, while the civil office

she named in her enrolment form was conveniently destroyed in the air bombardment in

August. She looks and smells like a minor, sir!”

“Mein Gott! An underage German girl, prisoner in the Tower of London. The

propaganda ministry would have a field day with this. Frau Fischer, tell Hauptmann

Maier once he has finished with his present task to study this file and verify the real

status and age of this Ingrid Weiss.”

Frau Fischer looked at Ingrid’s picture, pity on her face.

“Such a young girl, prisoner in that awful fortress. Didn’t the British execute

women there in the past, sir?”

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“They certainly did, Frau Fischer. In fact, if I remember my British history well,

one of the prisoners beheaded in the Tower of London was a teenage girl accused of

usurping the throne of England.”

The secretary’s eyes went wide with horror, but Reinholdt quickly reassured her.

“Do not worry about her or the other German women now jailed in this tower: that

Canadian woman from the future has taken on her to protect their rights and to insure

their good health.”

“You mean that Nancy Laplante, the She-wolf? How considerate of her.”

“Yes, particularly when you think that she captured them in the first place. Damn

the Gestapo and their awful directive about her.”

As if on cue, a huge blast shook the building, quickly followed by three more explosions.

Running to the windows, both Reinholdt and Frau Fischer saw a huge column of black

smoke rise from a particular point of the city. The belated fire from numerous anti-

aircraft guns told them that it was another British bomber raid, albeit a very localized one.

“Isn’t the Gestapo headquarters situated in that area, sir?” Asked the secretary.

She thought afterwards that she detected some pleasure in her boss’ answer.

“I do believe so, Frau Fischer.”