“Remember, she’s got a big brother in one of those trucks,” Hiram said. “Danette can get our refugees ready to move. Have Simone keep that drone focused on the French. The next surprise of the day might not be in our favor. We’re headed to the northern edge of town. You can pick us up there.”
“Roger Hawk. Falcon, out.”
Hiram sat in the pew and opened up a private communication channel with Charlotte. “Find Barbara and Maxime.”
“Looks like we’re not going across the border,” Deborah said.
“You are.”
“The hell I am.” She stood up and crossed her arms. “If you’re going after Barbara, I’m coming along. It’s not open to discussion. You can barely walk two meters on your own. You need me.” Hiram sighed. He did need her. At least Danette would be safe.
Deborah guided Hiram out of the church and they took the railbike to the northern edge of town. He adjusted his NVGs and looked toward the open field. Human forms floated down from the sky. “The cavalry has arrived.”
57
0335 hours, Tuesday, August 18, 1942, Les Alliés, Doubs Department, Occupied France
“You trust this, Captain?” Thompson asked Trembley, pointing to the C2ID2 display Irene held. Small infrared heat signatures dotted the outer edge of the map. Thompson looked out toward the ravine, eyes squinting as he searched for the thing capturing the images.
Simone stood a couple of meters away controlling the drone circling above the ravine.
“With my life, sir,” Trembley said. “But the drones can’t see everything.” He pointed to a farmhouse and barn about two hundred meters north of the lower checkpoint. “We haven’t seen any signs of life there, but we’ve no idea what might be inside.”
“Jolly good, then. Seems straightforward. We kill a bunch of Frogs, drive the trucks up the hill into Switzerland, and we can all go home.” Thompson turned to his two troop commanders and began issuing orders.
“We can help,” Irene said in French.
Thompson seemed to understand. “Best to leave the soldiering to the menfolk.” He responded to Irene, though his eyes stayed on Trembley. “Looks like these ladies have been through the wringer themselves. Why don’t you hang back and keep everyone out of our way? I’ll radio when we are ready to move. Cheerio.” Thompson walked away without a look back.
Irene looked at Trembley. “What did he say?”
“Nothing worth repeating. Let’s go find Hiram and brief the others.”
0540 hours, Tuesday, August 18, 1942, Les Alliés, Doubs Department, Occupied France
“What? We’re just supposed to trust that they will get the job done?” Danette said when Trembley finished briefing Hiram and the team leaders.
“They are quite good at their jobs,” Trembley said. “We can watch them via drone and step in if they need support.”
Danette glared at Trembley as Hiram addressed his soldiers. “In terms of the convoy, we’re going to modify my original idea. Two combat robots out front, followed by two railbikes with light machine guns.” Deborah translated for them.
“Team Charlie will take that mission,” Irene said.
“Good,” Hiram said. “Captain, I’d like you to drive the Citroën, with Simone, Charlotte and Danette inside operating the drones and robots.”
Trembley nodded.
“Spread out through the convoy,” he said to the others. “I want one of you on every fifth truck. Danette and I will take up the rear in the last railbike. Let’s move.”
Soon, the convoy was in motion, the robots dictating the pace. They stopped inside the village and waited for the order to move forward. The low ridge provided cover for the trucks.
Gunfire erupted along the ravine. Trembley watched flashes of light blossom on the display of Simone’s C2ID2 as the British commandos eliminated each of the French positions in a well-coordinated attack.
The victory seemed complete, until a pair of French Laffly armored cars emerged from the barn north of the lower checkpoint, each spitting Hotchkiss machine gunfire at the British commandos. Two squads of infantry followed in their wake. The British dove for cover and returned fire.
Danette leaned her head out the window and yelled at the railbike sitting in front of them. “Go, they need your help.”
Irene nodded, signaled the bike next to her. Team Charlie headed toward the firefight, two combat robots leading the way. A moment later, Danette saw Deborah and Hiram roar by in the third railbike.
58
0610 hours, Tuesday, August 18, 1942, Les Alliés, Doubs Department, Occupied France
“Stop here.” Hiram reached into his backpack, through the portal, and unlatched the IDF missile launcher mounted near the opening of the pod.
Deborah brought the bike to a halt to the left of a break in the trees that provided a perfect view of the armored cars now spitting machine gun fire at the British commandos.
Hiram pulled the missile launcher through the milky surface of the portal. “You’re going to have to fire it,” he said. He grabbed another missile.
Deborah dismounted and walked around the bike to help him out of the sidecar. “Hiram?”
“My hands are shaking too damn bad. I’ll be fine, but I need your help.”
She nodded and took the weapon from him, setting it on the ground to help him swing his bad leg over the cowling of the sidecar. “You’ll have to refresh me on how to use it.”
“It’s like riding a bike,” Hiram said. “Take a kneeling stance, right knee down, left foot forward, weapon on your right shoulder,”
Deborah assumed the position as he had instructed.
Hiram knelt just behind her left shoulder. He reached for the button on the left side of the weapon’s trigger housing. A video display jumped to life in front of Deborah’s right eye, overlaid with a set of crosshairs. “Ready?”
She took a deep breath, the weapon rising and falling with her body. “Ready.”
“Set your sight on the lead armored car,” he said. “Keep it there. Once the missile fires, keep the crosshairs centered on the armored car as it moves. The missile will self-correct.”
“Then let’s kill these bastards,” Deborah said.
“Fire,” Hiram ordered.
Deborah squeezed the firing trigger. The missile leapt from the tube, streaking towards the French armored car. As the vehicle exploded in flames, Hiram slammed the second missile into the launcher.
“Ready,” Hiram said.
Deborah hit the second vehicle and the machine gun fire stopped.
59
0640 hours, Tuesday, August 18, 1942, Les Alliés, Doubs Department, Occupied France
The Citroën crested the hill as the smoke cleared, leaving two mangled heaps of flaming metal. One of the gunners survived and he managed to remove the machine gun and distance himself from the burning vehicle. The driver of the other car ran toward Trembley screaming, his body engulfed in flame. He collapsed after a few meters while the flames feasted. The surviving French infantry fled east, toward the base of the lower ridge and positioned themselves to defend what was left of the checkpoint. The gunner raked the field in front of them with machine gun fire.
Team Charlie abandoned the railbikes and took cover in a drainage ditch along the east side of the road. Trembley maneuvered the Citroën off the road into a small stand of trees. He jumped out of the car, seeking the cover of a large oak tree, as the two combat robots rolled by, still under the control of Team Charlie.