The Suicide Exhibition: The Never War (Never War 1) by Justin Richards Page B
Authors: Justin Richards
Ads: Link
feel about blowing up a railway line?’
They laid the charges under cover of darkness. The fact that the Resistance made a habit of destroying railways and other communications across occupied France would allay any suspicion. There was no reason for Streicher and his men to assume they had been singled out for special treatment.
Jacques also passed word that Streicher’s shipment was not to be interfered with at the station. A ‘low-level’ but effective form of resistance was for the railway workers to deliberately mislabel German supplies or change the cargo manifests so that supplies ended up in the wrong place. The last thing Carlton Smith wanted was to find that his own subterfuge had been pre-empted.
The spot they chose was about seven miles out from Ouvon. The track ran through a cutting before emerging close to a lane. The lane was screened by a line of trees and an area of dense undergrowth. The two men with the detonator watched for the smoke that would show the train was nearing the end of the cutting. The light was fading as evening became night, but the sun was low behind the smoke, making it easy to see. Out of sight, Smith and Jacques waited on the lane with twomore of the Resistance – a young man called Pierre, and a woman who gave her name as Mathilde.
The sound of the approaching train was drowned out by the blast of the explosion. The noise melded into the screech of metal on metal as the driver hit the brakes.
Moving through the undergrowth, Smith watched the train slowing. Its wheels spat sparks. Doors were sliding open along its length as Streicher’s men tried to see what was happening ahead. Several of the soldiers leaped down, guns ready. They ran on ahead of the train, disappearing into the drifting smoke and steam.
As soon as the soldiers were clear, Smith and Mathilde made their move. They ran, crouching, to the back of the train. Mathilde disappeared beneath the back wagon. She emerged again a few moments later, giving Smith a thumbs-up. In moments, she had disappeared into the fog of smoke that spewed from the canister she had placed. The whole of the back of the train was soon swirling in acrid smoke and steam.
Smith was wearing a long, dark coat. In the thick haze it might pass for an officer’s greatcoat, and he was hoping no one would get close enough to make out any more than his vague outline. As soon as Mathilde was out of sight, swallowed up by the smoke, he hammered on the door of the back wagon.
‘Come on, come on!’ he shouted in German. Smith’s accent was a good approximation of Streicher’s voice. He had learned and practised the simple lines he needed as if for a command performance. ‘I need you out here.’
He could barely see the door opening, let alone the two soldiers guarding the crates.
‘They’ve blown up the line ahead of us. There’s a pile of supplies back at the end of the cutting. Bring two rails.’ He didn’t give them time to reply. ‘Quickly – now, now, now!’
‘Sir!’ one of the soldiers responded.
Smith was aware of them pushing past and hurrying back down the track. The smoke was already beginning to clear, so he would have to act fast.
Jacques, Pierre and Mathilde appeared out of the gloom and the four of them clambered into the wagon. Two more men arrived – the ones who had set off the explosives – and climbed in after them.
Smith and Jacques needed the torches they had brought.
‘One large crate, or several smaller ones,’ Jacques said quietly. ‘There is no time for more than that.’
‘It’s a large one I’m after.’
Smith quickly found the crate he was looking for – one of the largest. He tore the packing label from the side of the crate and handed it to Pierre. Mathilde and the others were already stripping labels from other crates and swapping them round. Pierre positioned the label from the large crate on another that was just slightly smaller, pressing it firmly into place.
‘If they start to peel
They laid the charges under cover of darkness. The fact that the Resistance made a habit of destroying railways and other communications across occupied France would allay any suspicion. There was no reason for Streicher and his men to assume they had been singled out for special treatment.
Jacques also passed word that Streicher’s shipment was not to be interfered with at the station. A ‘low-level’ but effective form of resistance was for the railway workers to deliberately mislabel German supplies or change the cargo manifests so that supplies ended up in the wrong place. The last thing Carlton Smith wanted was to find that his own subterfuge had been pre-empted.
The spot they chose was about seven miles out from Ouvon. The track ran through a cutting before emerging close to a lane. The lane was screened by a line of trees and an area of dense undergrowth. The two men with the detonator watched for the smoke that would show the train was nearing the end of the cutting. The light was fading as evening became night, but the sun was low behind the smoke, making it easy to see. Out of sight, Smith and Jacques waited on the lane with twomore of the Resistance – a young man called Pierre, and a woman who gave her name as Mathilde.
The sound of the approaching train was drowned out by the blast of the explosion. The noise melded into the screech of metal on metal as the driver hit the brakes.
Moving through the undergrowth, Smith watched the train slowing. Its wheels spat sparks. Doors were sliding open along its length as Streicher’s men tried to see what was happening ahead. Several of the soldiers leaped down, guns ready. They ran on ahead of the train, disappearing into the drifting smoke and steam.
As soon as the soldiers were clear, Smith and Mathilde made their move. They ran, crouching, to the back of the train. Mathilde disappeared beneath the back wagon. She emerged again a few moments later, giving Smith a thumbs-up. In moments, she had disappeared into the fog of smoke that spewed from the canister she had placed. The whole of the back of the train was soon swirling in acrid smoke and steam.
Smith was wearing a long, dark coat. In the thick haze it might pass for an officer’s greatcoat, and he was hoping no one would get close enough to make out any more than his vague outline. As soon as Mathilde was out of sight, swallowed up by the smoke, he hammered on the door of the back wagon.
‘Come on, come on!’ he shouted in German. Smith’s accent was a good approximation of Streicher’s voice. He had learned and practised the simple lines he needed as if for a command performance. ‘I need you out here.’
He could barely see the door opening, let alone the two soldiers guarding the crates.
‘They’ve blown up the line ahead of us. There’s a pile of supplies back at the end of the cutting. Bring two rails.’ He didn’t give them time to reply. ‘Quickly – now, now, now!’
‘Sir!’ one of the soldiers responded.
Smith was aware of them pushing past and hurrying back down the track. The smoke was already beginning to clear, so he would have to act fast.
Jacques, Pierre and Mathilde appeared out of the gloom and the four of them clambered into the wagon. Two more men arrived – the ones who had set off the explosives – and climbed in after them.
Smith and Jacques needed the torches they had brought.
‘One large crate, or several smaller ones,’ Jacques said quietly. ‘There is no time for more than that.’
‘It’s a large one I’m after.’
Smith quickly found the crate he was looking for – one of the largest. He tore the packing label from the side of the crate and handed it to Pierre. Mathilde and the others were already stripping labels from other crates and swapping them round. Pierre positioned the label from the large crate on another that was just slightly smaller, pressing it firmly into place.
‘If they start to peel
Similar Books
