Chapter 6 chapter Five

Gilberta and Flick left Saint-Cécile and traveled along a country road to Reims.The driveway was narrow, and Gilberta tried to drive as fast as possible.Flick scanned the road ahead vigilantly. The road undulated on low hillsides, passed through vineyards from time to time, and loosely connected one village after another.They passed many crossroads along the way, which slowed down their journey, but the crossroads made it impossible for the Gestapo to block every road from Saint-Cecile.Even so, Flick bit his lip, always worried about being stopped by a patrol that appeared by chance.She couldn't explain why a man was bleeding from a gunshot wound in the back seat.

Going forward, she felt that Michel could not be sent back to his own home. After France surrendered in 1940 and Michel was demobilized, instead of returning to his teaching position at the Sorbonne, he returned to his hometown and became the vice-principal of a high school. His real motive was to build a resistance front.He moved into his late parents' home, which was very charming, near a cathedral.But Flick didn't think he could go back there now, knowing that the place was too crowded.Although members of the Resistance often don't know each other's addresses for security reasons, and they only reveal when they have to deliver goods or meet up, Michel is a leader and most know where he lives.

On Saint-Cécile's side, some of the team members may have been captured alive, and it will not be long before they will be interrogated.Unlike the British agents, the French resistance members did not carry suicide pills.The only sure rule of trial in this matter is that everyone interrogated eventually confesses.Sometimes the Gestapo lose patience, and sometimes they kill their interrogators out of fanaticism, but if they play it safe and determined, they can make the strongest of men betray their closest comrades, and no one can To endure the pain of torture for a long time. Therefore, Flick must assume that Michel's house has been exposed to the enemy.But where else could she have taken him?

"How is he?" Gilberta asked anxiously. Flick glanced toward the backseat.Michelle's eyes were closed tightly, but her breathing was normal.He was asleep, and what he needed most was rest.She looked at him lovingly. He needed someone to take care of him, at least for the first day or two.She turned to Gilberta, a young and innocent girl who had probably not left her parents. "Where do you live?" Flick asked. "At the edge of the town, Serney Street." "You live by yourself?" For some reason, Gilberta looked a little scared: "Yes, of course I live alone."

"Is it a single-family home, an apartment, or a studio?" "Apartment, two rooms." "We're going to your place." "no!" "Why? Are you scared?" She looked a little aggrieved and said, "No, I'm not afraid." "Then why?" "I can't trust the neighbors." "Is there a back door there?" Gilberta looked reluctant. "Yes, there is a small road next to a small factory." "It seems appropriate." "Well, you're right, we should go to my place. I'm just . "Sorry."

Flick was scheduled to return to London tonight, and she was waiting for the plane to pick her up on a meadow outside the village of Chatterley, five miles north of Reims.She didn't know if the plane would arrive on time, and it was extremely difficult to find a specific area near a small village with only starlight navigation.Pilots often lose their way—in fact, it would be a miracle if they ever made it to a certain point.She looked at the weather.The clear sky turned to the dark blue of night.If this weather does not change, there should be a moon at night. If it doesn't work tonight, then tomorrow night, it's always been that way, she thought.

Her thoughts turned to the comrades who remained behind her.Is young Bertrand dead or alive?How is Genevieve?It might be better to die.Alive, they will face cruel torture.Thinking again that it was her who made them suffer, Flick's heart tightened and he felt extremely painful.Bertrand was infatuated with her, she guessed that.He's too young to feel guilty about having a crush on the Commander's wife.She wished she'd ordered him to stay home, the battle wouldn't have made much difference, but he'd been able to prolong her happy, bright youth instead of turning into a dead body or worse.

No one can succeed every time, and war means that if the command miscalculates, everyone will die.This is an iron-clad fact, but she still needs to find some psychological sustenance and comfort for herself.She would love to find a way to make sure they didn't suffer in vain.Perhaps she could finally build upon their devotion and gain some kind of victory out of it. She thought about the passport she had stolen from Antoinette, and considered the possibility of sneaking into the castle.Squads can enter the castle pretending to be civilian employees.She quickly dismissed the idea of ​​having them pretend to be telephone operators, a skill that took time to learn.But everyone can play with a broom.

Will the Germans notice if the cleaners have new faces?They probably don't pay attention to what the women who mop the floor look like.As for the French operators—would they give away?Maybe it's worth the risk. There is a special department in the Special Operations Service that can forge any documents, and sometimes they even copy their own documents for a day or two of emergency use.They can quickly make false certificates according to Antoinette's pass. Flick felt guilty for stealing this document.At this moment, Antoinette must be frantically looking for it, looking under the sofa, rummaging through all the pockets, and looking for it in the yard with a flashlight.She would get in trouble if she told the Gestapo that she had lost her pass, but they might end up giving her another one.That way, she won't be convicted of helping the resistance.If interrogated, she would insist that she misplaced and lost it, because she herself believed it to be true.Besides, Flick was sure that Antoinette would probably refuse her if she offered to borrow it.

Of course, this plan has one big flaw.All cleaners are women, and resistance members disguised as cleaners must also be women. But Flick thought about it again, what's wrong with being all women? They have come to the suburbs of Reims.It was late when Gilberta pulled up next to a low factory building surrounded by a tall wire fence.She turned off the car.Flick immediately went to call Michelle: "Wake up! We will carry you inside." Michelle groaned. "We need to hurry up," she urged, "we're breaking the curfew." Two women get him out of the car. Gilberta pointed to an alley behind the factory.Michelle put his arms around their shoulders and they helped him along.Gilberta opened a door in the wall, and here was the backyard of a small apartment building.They crossed the yard and entered the building by the back door.

It was a shabby five-story apartment building with no elevator, and to make matters worse Gilberta's house was on the top floor.Flick instructed Gilberta how to lift, and the two grabbed each other's arms and lifted Michele's thigh.He put his arms around the shoulders of the two women and climbed the four flights of stairs like this.Fortunately, I didn't meet anyone on the stairs. When they arrived at Gilberta's door, several people were already out of breath.They put Michelle down, and Michelle barely moved into the room, and finally fell down on a chair. Flick looked around.This is indeed a place where girls live, everything is tidy and beautiful.The important thing is that no one can see here, which is the advantage of the top floor, no one can see what is going on inside the house.Michelle should be safe here. After Gilberta runs for Michele, she brings him a cushion to make him more comfortable, dabs his face with a towel, and finds him an aspirin.She was considerate, but a little fussy, as was Antoinette.Michele had an effect on women that made them feel overwhelmed—but Flick didn't, and that was one of the things that made him fall in love with her at first sight, he couldn't handle that challenge. "You'll have to show the doctor," Flick said decisively. "Claude Bowler? He helped us, but the last time I saw him I greeted him, but he pretended not to know him." I was so scared that I almost ran away." "He's been timid since he got married," Michelle said, "but he'll come to see me." Flick nodded, and many people were willing to make an exception for Michelle. "Gilberta, go get Dr. Baller." "I want to be with Michelle." Flick sighed secretly.A guy like Gilberta couldn't do anything but deliver a letter or something, even though she might make a mess of it. "Do as I tell you," said Flick indisputably. "I'm going to be alone with Michelle before I go back to London." "What about the curfew?" "If someone stops you and you say you're going to get the doctor, that's an excuse. They might follow you to Claude's to see if you're telling the truth. But they won't come here." Gilberta was reluctant, but put on her cardigan and went out.Flick sat on the arm of Michel's chair and kissed him. "What a disaster," she said. "I know." He gritted his teeth and snorted. "That's what MI6 is. There are twice as many people in there as they say." "I'll never trust those idiots again." "We lost Albert and I have to inform his wife." "I'll go back tonight. I'll send you another operator back to London." "thanks." "You need to figure out who else is dead and who's alive." "I wish I could." He sighed. She took his hand and said, "How do you feel?" "Stupid. Bullet wound in such an indecent place." "How does it feel physically?" "My head is a little dizzy." "You should have something to drink. Wonder what she has here." "It would be nice to have Scotch." Before the war, Flick's friends in London had made Michel fall in love with whiskey. "That was too strong." The kitchen was in the corner of the living room.Flick opened the cupboard and, to her surprise, there was a bottle of white label Dewars. Agents from England always carried whiskey with them, drinking it themselves or sharing it with their comrades, but this wine is not very suitable for France. girl.There was also an open bottle of wine in the cupboard, which would have been more appropriate for a wounded person to drink.She poured out half a glass, then filled the glass with tap water.Michele drank greedily, thirsty from the loss of blood.He drank the wine, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. Flick wanted to drink some whiskey himself, but since she didn't let Michelle drink it, it would be bad for her to drink it herself.Besides, she had to keep her head clear.Let's wait until she returns to British soil. She scanned everything in the room.There are a few romantic and sad paintings on the wall, and there is a stack of old fashion magazines in the room, but there are no books.She glanced into the bedroom.Michelle immediately asked, "Where are you going?" "Just looking around." "She's not at home, don't you think it's a little rude to do that?" Flick shrugged and said, "I don't think so. I'm going to the bathroom anyway." "It's outside. Go downstairs and walk up the stairs to the end, I think I remember correctly." She found the bathroom as he said.As she relieved herself inside, something disturbed her, something to do with Gilberta's apartment.She thought hard, never letting go of her instinctive feeling, which had saved her life more than once.Back inside, she said to Michelle, "There's something wrong here. Do you know what's going on?" He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I have no idea." "But you're a little anxious." "Maybe it's because he was just wounded in a shootout." "No, no, this apartment." It had to do with Gilberta's uneasiness, too, with Michele knowing where the bathroom was, and with the whiskey.She went into the bedroom and checked, and this time Michelle didn't scold her again.She looked around, and on the bedside table was a picture of a man with Gilberta's big eyes and dark eyebrows, presumably her father.There is a doll on the bedspread.There is a washbasin in the corner, above which is a mirrored cabinet.Flick opened the cabinet door, and inside was a man's razor, bowl, and shaving brush.Gilberta was not innocent, there was a man here who used to spend the night here and left his toiletries here. Looking more closely, Flick saw that the razor and brush were a set, both with fine bone handles, which she finally recognized as a present from Michelle on his thirty-second birthday. I see. The huge shock made her freeze there, unable to move for a moment. She had suspected that he fell in love with someone else, but she didn't expect him to go so far.Now, the evidence was here, right in front of her eyes. She turned from shock to grief.When Flick stayed alone in an empty room in London, he actually fell into the arms of another woman!She turned and looked at the bed, where they had had their affair, in this room.It was simply unbearable for her. Then she became furious.She had been faithful to him, she had endured loneliness - but he was the exact opposite, he had lied to her.A surge of rage nearly exploded her. She took a few steps to the next room and stood in front of him. "You bastard," she said in English, "you dirty, depraved bastard." Michelle replied in the same language: "Don't be mad at me." He knew his half-English had always been endearing to her, but this time it didn't work, and she switched to French and said, "How could you betray me for a nineteen-year-old fool?" "That doesn't make any sense, she's just a pretty girl." "Do you think everything will be fine if you say that?" Flick knew that he had attracted Michelle's attention at first, when she was a student and he was a teacher, and her informal questions in class attracted him.French students were more respectful and polite than English students, but Flick had no natural fear of authority.Flick would have felt better if someone similar had seduced Michel—like her equal, Genevieve.But he had his eye on Gilberta, a girl with a blank mind and no interest in anything but nail polish, and she couldn't stand it. "I'm lonely," Michelle said pitifully. "I don't want to hear your sad stories. You're not alone, you're vulnerable, unfaithful, broken." "Flick, my dear, let's stop quarreling. Half your friends have been killed. You're going back to England. We'll probably both be dead before long. Don't go away in a rage." "Can I not be mad? I have to leave you in your little slut's arms!" "She's not a little slut—" "Stop talking about words. I'm your wife and you're in bed with her." Michele struggled in his chair, grinning in pain, staring deeply at Flick with his blue eyes. "I admit my guilt," he said. "I am a vile man. But this vile man loves you, and I ask your forgiveness, just this once, in case I should never see you again." The words were irresistible.Flick weighed between five years of marriage and one indulgence, and finally had to give in.She took a step closer to him, and he put his arms around her legs, and pressed his face against her old cotton dress.She stroked his hair. "Okay," she said, "that's it." "I'm so sorry for you," he said, "I'm in a terrible mood. I've never met or even heard of a better woman than you. I'll never do it again, I swear." The door opened, and Gilberta and Claude walked in.Flick was startled suddenly, and quickly let go of Michelle's head in embarrassment.Then she thought it was stupid, he was her husband, not Gilberta's, why should she feel guilty about holding him, even in Gilberta's apartment?She was annoyed with herself. Gilberta looked a bit shocked to see her lover here with his wife in his arms, but she soon recovered, with a cold and indifferent expression on her face. Claude followed her into the room, a handsome young doctor who looked a little nervous. Flick went forward and kissed Claude on the cheek. "Thank you for coming," she said. "We can't thank you enough." Claude looked at Michele and said, "How's it going, man?" "I've got a bullet in my ass." "Then I'm going to take it out." He dropped his nervous look and transformed himself into an agile expert.He turned to Flick and said, "Put some towels on the bed to blot the blood, then take off his pants and lay him face down. I'll wash my hands." Gilberta spread out old magazines on the bed and covered them with towels.Flick lifted Michele up and helped him move to the bed step by step.As he lay on the bed, she couldn't help thinking how many times he had been here. Cloud stuck a metal tool into the wound and groped inside for shrapnel.Michelle cried out in pain. "I'm sorry, old friend." Claude said sweetly. In the bed Michel had cried out with guilty pleasure, Flick almost felt a satisfaction in seeing him in pain.She wanted him to imprint Gilberta's bedroom firmly in memory like this. Michelle said: "Go to the end in one breath." Flick's vindictiveness quickly faded, and she really felt sorry for Michelle.She moved the pillow closer to his face and said, "Bite on this, it will help." Michelle stuffed the pillow into her mouth. Cloud fumbled again, and this time he took out the bullet.Blood gushed profusely from the wound, and it took several minutes for it to slow down.Claude bandaged him. "Try not to move within a few days." He told Michelle.This meant that Michel had to stay at Gilberta's house.It would hurt him to have sex, though, and Flick had a malicious satisfaction at the thought. "Thank you, Claude," she said. "Glad to help with this." "I have one more request." Claude got scared. "what?" "I'm waiting for a plane at a quarter of an hour before midnight. I want you to drive me to Chatterley." "Why can't Gilberta drop you off in that car she just drove to my house?" "Because there's a curfew. But it's safer for us to go with you, you're the doctor." "Then how do I explain that there are two people with me?" "Three, we need Michelle to hold up the flashlight." This is the procedure every time they take a plane, the four resistance members form a huge "L" shape, holding up the flashlight, indicating the wind direction and the place where the plane landed.Small battery-operated flashlights need to be pointed in the direction of the aircraft so that the pilot can see them.It is also possible to directly insert the flashlight on the ground, but that is not sure, and if the pilot does not see the signal he is expecting, he will suspect that it is a trap and will not land.So it's best to have four if possible. Crowder said: "How can I explain you guys to the police? A doctor who goes out of the emergency department won't take three people in the car." "We'll figure out a reason." "It's too dangerous!" "At this hour of the night, the whole thing takes less than a few minutes." "Mary Jane would have killed me. She made me think of the children first." "You don't have a child yet." "She's pregnant." Flick nodded, and now he knew why he became timid. Michel turned over and sat up. He leaned over and grabbed Claude's arm and said, "Claude, I beg you, this matter is very important. It's for me, okay?" It's not very difficult to say to Michelle, Claude sighed: "When?" Flick looked at her watch. It was almost eleven o'clock. "Now." Claude looked at Michelle and said, "His wound will open again." "I know," said Flick, "if it's going to bleed, let it bleed." The village of Chatterley consists of a crossroads and a few buildings scattered around it, including three farmhouses, a row of farmworkers' huts, and a bakery that supplies nearby farms and village households.Flick was standing in a pasture a mile from the intersection, a flashlight the size of a cigarette pack in his hand. The pilots of the 161st Squadron gave her a week of lessons, teaching her how to guide the plane to land.The place met their requirements. The grass field was almost a kilometer long-a distance of six hundred meters for a "Lysander" to take off or land.The ground under her feet was solid and there were no slopes.A nearby pond was clearly visible from the air in moonlight, which also provided a good landmark for the pilot. Michele and Gilberta stood upwind of Flick in line with her, flashlights also in hand, and Claude, a few yards to Gilberta's side, formed an inverted guild pilot. "L" shaped night runway.If it is in a remote area, the response team will use a bonfire instead of a flashlight, but here is close to the village, leaving suspicious burning marks on the ground is very dangerous. The four formed what the agents called a "response team."Flick's group is always silent and disciplined, but some poorly organized groups often treat the airport pick-up as a party, a group of men smoking and laughing loudly, attracting the attention of people in nearby villages.Doing so was dangerous, and if the pilot suspected that the landing had been spotted by the Germans and that the Gestapo were in ambush, he had to react quickly.The response team was instructed to warn that anyone approaching the landing plane from the wrong angle could be shot by the pilot.It never actually happened, but once a Hudson bomber ran over and killed a bystander. Waiting for a plane is never a chore.If the plane didn't come, Flick would have to wait another twenty-four hours on tense nerves, take another risk, until the opportunity came.But an agent can never predict exactly when the plane will appear.This was not due to the RAF being unreliable.The reason is more like what the pilots of 161 Squadron explained to Flickr, it is very difficult to navigate an aircraft hundreds of miles above a country by moonlight alone.Pilots use dead reckoning — calculating their position based on direction, speed and elapsed time, and checking the results against landmarks such as rivers, towns, railway lines and forests.The problem with dead reckoning is that it cannot accurately adjust for drift caused by wind.And the landmarks are also troublesome, because one river under the moonlight looks a lot like another river.Getting to a general area is complicated enough, but finding a specific field for these pilots is even more difficult. It's even more impossible to find if there's a cloud covering the moon, in which case the plane won't even take off. But the weather was fine tonight, and Flick felt hopeful.Sure enough, just a few minutes before midnight, she heard the roar of a single-engine plane, faint at first, then louder and louder, like a burst of violent applause, filling her heart with the desire to go home. eager.She flashes the letter "X" in Morse code with her flashlight.If she mispronounced the letter, the pilot would suspect it was a trap and fly away without landing. The plane circled around and then landed abruptly.It stopped on the right of Flick, braked, turned to the direction between Michel and Claude, slid towards Flick again, turned the fuselage to the wind again, and drew an oval , get ready for takeoff. It was a Westland Lysander, a small, upturned monoplane painted matte black.The plane had only one pilot and two passenger seats, but Flick knew a "Lizzie" as the English pilot affectionately called "Lysander."It can carry a total of four people, plus one in the cabin and one more on the parcel rack. The pilot did not kill the engine.He stays on the ground for only a few seconds. Flick wanted to hug Michele and wish him luck, but she also wanted to slap him and warn him not to touch other women.She had no time for either, and that was to everyone's advantage. Flick just waved his hand, then boarded the iron ladder, opened the hatch and climbed into the cabin. The pilot glanced quickly to the backseat, and Flick gave him a thumbs up.The little plane surged forward, gained speed, and rose into the air in a single stroke. Flick could see a light or two in a small village, and the country people didn't care much about blackouts.When Flick arrived here, it was too late, it was already four o'clock in the morning, and it was very dangerous.She had seen the glowing red fire of the bread oven from the air, and as she drove through the village, she could smell the smell of fresh bread, the smell of France. As the plane banked and turned, Flick saw faces in the moonlight, Michelle, Gilberta, and Claude, like three white spots on a dark playground.As the plane began to fly steadily towards England, a great pain came over her, and she thought that she might never see them again.