The Bridge by Robert Radcliffe

Author:Robert Radcliffe [Radcliffe, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784973896
Publisher: Head of Zeus

CHAPTER 9

The vehicle that collected Theo from General Gale’s Normandy headquarters in July 1944 was not the usual truck or Jeep but a real car, a Citroën saloon with French number plates and steering wheel on the left. That was the first clue. The second was the driver, a corporal who said nothing the entire time but was wearing a 2nd Army flash on his shoulder, implying something unusual. The third was the drive itself, which was long and circuitous, perhaps thirty miles, and took him well outside 6th Airborne’s operational zone. Hunched resignedly in the back, he stared through the window at the shadowy countryside, recalling other road trips to unknown destinations. Pushed to the floor of a partisan car in Rome; chauffeured to Gale’s madhouse in Wiltshire; the long night drive to Salo with the Gestapo: these journeys in his experience rarely presaged anything good. Beyond the window the night was dark and the sky overcast, the Citroën’s headlights were taped to thin slits, and he could tell only that they were travelling vaguely west. Passing successive small villages with names that meant nothing, they reached the larger town of Bayeux, drove right through and on another mile to a hamlet called Blay, followed a high stone wall and pulled up outside iron gates manned by guards. A muttered exchange followed, papers were scrutinized, a flashlight shone in his face, then the gates were opened and the Citroën crunched on to gravel. A large house loomed into shadowy relief at the end of a driveway, but before they reached it they turned down a bumpy track, lurched into woodland and stopped.

‘Wait here.’ The driver slammed the door and disappeared. Minutes passed, Theo heard the ticking of the engine as it cooled, and an owl hooting in the trees. To the north searchlights played over distant clouds, otherwise all was quiet.

‘Ah-ha, there you are!’

A face grinned at the window. It took a moment to identify it in the darkness; the stubbled chin, the rumpled uniform, the red glow of the cigarette between the lips.

‘Captain Grant? Is that you?’

‘In the flesh.’ Grant opened the door. ‘Good to see you!’

They shook. ‘You too, but…’

‘Yes I know, they finally let me out, can you believe it!’

‘Well, no, but that’s good, sir, isn’t it?’

‘Absolutely. And call me Dennis. I hear you got a bullet in the bum.’

‘Oh, yes, only a splinter though. In the thigh.’

‘All healed?’

‘It was infected but fine now.’

‘Good to hear.’ Grant took his arm, leading him along a path into the woods. As they went they passed pickets keeping guard. ‘I got the call two days ago. Came over on a destroyer, by Jove. Then transferred to a patrol boat which brought me closer, then clambered into one of those amphibious six-wheeled truck things…’

‘DUKW?’

‘That’s the one, and the damn thing drove me straight up the beach! Bloody marvellous, didn’t even get my feet wet!’

‘Marvellous, yes, er, Dennis. But can I ask why?’

Grant squeezed his arm. ‘That’s what we’re here to find out.

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