They Fought Alone by Maurice Buckmaster

Author:Maurice Buckmaster [Maurice Buckmaster]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781849547727
Publisher: Biteback Publishing
Published: 2014-12-14T16:00:00+00:00

VI

It was only the beginning. We had to ship in a lot more stuff if we were to blow up the locomotive sheds in the time which the RAF had ‘allowed’ us. We told Michael to get together as many lorries as he could. We would begin mass shipments, or shipments as massive as we could manage. The next lot would go to Armand on Thursday night.

Michael worked with reckless speed. Two lorries were stolen from a German dump and new number plates attached to them. Small vans and huge long-distance lorries were taken at tremendous risk and added to the Resistance transport pool. At Meaux, Armand and his men arranged for extra transport to make the vital trip to Montmartre where Michael and the others waited for the stuff.

The Germans did not interfere with transport as much as one might imagine. At this time there was no private traffic of any kind, either lorries or cars. Everything was in the service of Germany. Now the Germans, knowing that this was the law, could not believe that anyone would dare to break it; they are a literal-minded people and it seemed inconceivable to them that the French would do anything so flagrant as to use a road and transport which was totally reserved for Germans.

Sometimes our big munition loads were broken up before the lorries reached Lille, for purely local traffic was less likely to be subject to checks. This was where the small vans came in useful. They could draw up in front of the places where Michael cached the stuff without exciting too much comment in the neighbourhood. One of Michael’s most trusted van drivers was a girl called Brigitte. One day she was driving along the road from Douai in a small charcoal burning vehicle laden with plastic explosives and detonators and other equipment when, going up a small hill, she began to hear most unpromising noises from the engine. The van topped the rise, sighed, and gave up. It was useless to try and find a garage, because all the French garages were forbidden to give service; theoretically there was no French transport to service. There was only one thing to do. At the bottom of the hill was a German depot. Brigitte started to push the van. A couple of German mechanics, on their way back to the depot, came out of a café. She smiled at them. They smiled back. Within a few seconds both were pushing the van. Brigitte sat in it and steered.

‘Where are we going?’ they asked.

‘To the depot.’

She turned the van in through the front gate.

‘It’s all right, Hans,’ one of her helpers called to the sentry.

‘You’re very kind,’ she said to the two men. ‘Now could you take a look at the engine and see what’s wrong with it? I’d be so grateful.’

Willingly (she was an attractive girl) they set to and repaired the vehicle. ‘I’m in a hurry to get it to the hospital, you see. They need the supplies so badly.

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