“Not accurately. He remembers Bart or Bert, nothing more.”
Knocke sat forward in his chair, slowly unfolding his hands, drawing the others forward to hear his words.
“Norbert. Hans-Georg Norbert, Capitaine, Mountain Battalion.”
He had their undivided attention.
“Pfalzweyer was Rettlinger’s headquarters for the week before the attack.”
Another thought occurred, and it sent him into one of the drawers in his desk, searching for a casualty report.
The paper flicked noisily as Knocke consulted the painful document, reading names of those no longer alive. He suddenly closed it with a flourish and a noise that marked a moment of supreme horror.
Passing the list to De Walle, Knocke shook his head in anger and disbelief.
“He’s not there, Georges. He’s not on the list.”
De Walle checked for himself, which Knocke accepted was not an insult.
“Perhaps he is one of those as yet unidentified from the horror of La Petite Pierre, Ernst?”
“No, he is not. I am sure of it. His unit was at Neuwiller-lès-Saverne, and his body, and those of nine others, has not yet been recovered.”
“Merde!”
Both men looked at St.Clair, thus far silent, whose contribution, although unnecessary, summed up the situation.
There was a silence that, by unspoken agreement between St.Clair, De Valois and De Walle, only Knocke would break.
“This cannot go on. We must find a way to purge any problems within our own ranks before we become a liability.”
De Walle offered up a quick idea.
“There is someone who can help us, I’m sure of it.”
Thinking quickly, he decided that Anne-Marie was trusted enough to hear a name and some highly protected information.
“You have heard of Gehlen, Ernst?”
“Yes, but is this his area of expertise now?”
“Général Gehlen is now head of the German Intelligence apparatus, and has already had some success with discovering agent-provocateurs within the new Republic’s armies. He and I have… err… cooperated on some ventures, so he owes me a favour or two.”
There was no time for outrage or posturing, something that they all understood.
“Then get your favours returned as soon as possible, and put the trust back in my soldiers!”
Immediately he raised his voice, Knocke’s hands were on the way up in a placatory gesture. It was not necessary, as his angst was understood, and his faith in his troops undermined.
St.Clair, as hurt as Knocke by the revelations, tackled De Walle head on.
“So how do you intend to do this, Sir?”
Knocke answered in the Frenchman’s stead.
“That is not our concern for now, Celestin. We may not wish to know. So long as our operational efficiency is not affected, Georges.”
De Walle nodded back and ventured a suggestion.
“I think it is high time that the Legion was withdrawn from frontline service and given the opportunity to rest. Given the latest deployment of our Allies, I think that High Command would agree to give their finest soldiers a break, eh?”
“Agreed. Now, to Weiss.”
De Valois rose slowly.
“I have an idea of how we can turn this to our advantage, Sir, but it will take fast work.”
The three men listened to her hastily hatched plan and, despite their objections to the part she chose to play, saw opportunity raise its head.
The plan was agreed.
Anne-Marie de Valois decided on a simple approach. No suspicious adjustment to her make-up or clothing, deciding, quite rightly, that the looks the swine Weiss had shot her so often were enough indication that he desired her.
Time was of the essence, in as much as she needed to buy as much as possible, whilst a convincing alternative folder containing fake information on the Spectrum plans was acquired.
If the misleading folder and the bullets could be replaced without Weiss’ knowledge, then an opportunity to mislead the Soviets would exist.
The senior Deus officer knew that such maskirovka already existed, a subterfuge prepared and constructed for when or if an opportunity knocked.
De Walle was already on the phone, establishing what could be done in the time available.
Anne-Marie de Valois paused outside the bedroom.
Such acts as she was prepared to commit herself to now had previously been unthinkable, but her new experience of the sacrifices that others were prepared to make made her more amenable to the idea of using all her womanly charms for the common cause.
Had she walked into his quarters naked she would have not got any more reaction from Weiss.
The man was clearly extremely ill and in a place where her distraction plan was not needed.
She called for the doctor and sat with the German until he arrived.
“According to the Doctor, he probably has a severe chest onfection, but there’s a suspicion of something more serious and life-threatening.”
She delivered the information matter-of-factly, and it was received in a way that indicated that neither of the listeners cared.
Knocke, tired after a full day spent organising Camerone’s withdrawal, had turned in some time beforehand, but De Walle and St.Clair had waited for Anne-Marie’s report.
They also waited for the arrival of a file, product of De Walle’s enquiries, one to satisfy their hatching of a false information scam on Weiss, one that outlined a deception, a maskirovka, a subterfuge, part of the planning of Spectrum, which was now to be delivered into the enemy’s hands…
…always providing that the ‘enemy’ in the equation recovered.
The Camerone and Tannenberg withdrew over the next two days, moving back into a second line position, permitting two Spanish units to take over their former lines.
On 12th December 1945, the deserted headquarters, for some reason, left unused by the relieving Spanish troops, caught fire.
Much of the building was damaged, certainly enough to prevent its use as a headquarters, or to offer decent shelter in the prevalent weather conditions.
Against doctor’s orders, Weiss had managed to get himself out of the new medical facility at Luneville.
The Legion transport officer proved to be made of sterner stuff than the Medical Officer who had vainly tried to keep Weiss on the ward.
The TO insisted that his valuable jeep would go with a driver and that was that, leaving Weiss no choice but to acquiesce or create a scene that might cause him some problems.
In truth, he was still weak and welcomed the journey without the effort of driving, although he didn’t welcome the additional company of the driver, although the driving skills exhibited drew his grudging respect, as the jeep was expertly propelled through snow and ice.
At least the man had the common sense to stay quiet, allowing Weiss to close his eyes and allow his mind to drift to the possibilities.
He had heard of the fire whilst in his sick bed, but hoped that something salvageable would be left for his cause to use against the Allied scum.
Just before seven in the evening, the jeep pulled up outside the darkened shell of the old Legion Headquarters and the driver tapped the sleeping Weiss’ leg.
“We’re here, Sir.”
Orienting himself quickly, Weiss checked the torch’s light against the palm of his hand and pulled the side panel back, allowing the snow to float in and melt in the slightly warmer interior air.
“Keep the engine running. I won’t be long. I just hope my gear survived the fire.”
It was his excuse for making the journey.
Entering the freezing building, he made his way towards his room, checking the integrity of the charred stairs as he went.