Over the next couple of hours, the truck stopped in several different towns to collect more prisoners. Every one of them looked dirty, and they smelled. Fitz guessed she was no different to the others. She certainly hadn’t been offered any soap and water before she was released from Engel’s custody. Yet, despite the bodily smells, they all huddled together in a bid to keep themselves warm in the cold December air.
After collecting more prisoners, the truck was rammed full and some of the new pick-ups had to sit on the floor, three abreast. Then the rain began. Small infrequent drops to start with, but then larger heavier blobs, falling fast from the sky. The soldiers pulled a plastic sheet over themselves, but there was no shelter for Fitz and the others.
Fitz welcomed the rain, at least she had a chance to get some of the filth and dried blood from her skin. She lifted her chin up to the sky, just as she had done before she’d stepped inside the Gestapo house. She relished the fresh water, the feeling of being alive. She had seen the sky again, when she thought she wouldn’t. There was still hope. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was hoping for in the short term, but long term, she hoped she survived this war and was able to see her family again. And, of course, that somehow Sam was still alive, somewhere out there. Maybe he was trying to find his way back to England. She had to cling onto that hope. If she didn’t, what was the point? What did her mother used to say? Where there’s life there’s hope. If that’s all Fitz had, then she would take it.
The rain didn’t show any signs of easing over an hour later. If anything, it was as if the grey rain-filled clouds were following them. Everyone was drenched and as the day wore on and the sun sloped lower in the sky, with it came the cold.
When the truck drew to a halt, Fitz thought they must be stopping for the night, but looking around from the back of the vehicle, all she could see were trees either side of the road. Then voices came from the cab and doors opened and closed as the driver and co-driver disembarked. The two motorcycle outriders and the jeep that was escorting the truck all stopped a little way ahead. Something was happening. Fitz leaned back and could just about see around the cab. In front of them was another truck like the one she was travelling in, except it had a canvas canopy which was open at the back, where two guards were seated.
There was a brief conversation between drivers and then both trucks began to move again in convoy.
They trundled on through the French countryside in an easterly direction, the heavy rain making the journey laborious as they stopped in several more villages, collecting more prisoners. Fitz estimated they had at least fifty people across the two vehicles. Sometimes it was a person on their own, other times it was whole families.
At one point, they stopped near a forest, and in groups of ten the prisoners were allowed to disembark and relieve themselves in a drainage ditch. Fitz hated the way they were being treated as if they were sub-human. As she climbed out of the ditch, she glanced across to the other truck where there were more women with children.
And there amongst the group climbing out of the truck, she saw her.
The blonde hair still tied in the plaits. The teddy clutched under her arm.
It was Yvette.
Fitz gasped. Her instinct was to call out to Yvette, but she managed to stop herself. She didn’t want to draw attention tothem and what if Yvette broke away and tried to run over towards Fitz? The guards might think she was trying to escape and shoot her. All these thoughts rushed through Fitz’s mind in a second.
‘Hurry up!’ shouted a guard, jabbing his rifle in her direction.
Fitz scrambled up the grass bank and took another quick, but discreet, glance at Yvette. The initial joy and relief of seeing the little girl was quickly replaced by sadness and fear. Yvette hadn’t got away. Had Margot and Philippe been arrested and was Yvette with them at the time? Or had Margot taken her to the family she mentioned and for some reason they’d given Yvette up to the authorities? Were they there on the truck or was Yvette alone?
Fitz tried to see if anyone appeared to be looking after Yvette but she lost sight of her in the group as they slid down the bank into the ditch.
Once she was in the truck, Fitz couldn’t see the other vehicle properly. As she sat down on the wooden bench, she tried to work out a plan to get to Yvette. Maybe she could get her on this truck with her. She was desperate to take care of the child. It was her fault Yvette had been caught. Fitz felt a great wave of responsibility for Yvette and equally a huge burden of guilt. She had let the little girl down. She wasn’t sure she could live with herself. She had to find a way to get to her. At least then Yvette wouldn’t be alone.
Thirty minutes later, the trucks were on the road again. The rain had not stopped, and large puddles were forming as the water made its way to the lowest point. With the occupation, the maintenance of the land and the ditches hadn’t been a priority for the Germans and the excess water had nowhere to escape to other than across the roads. The grass verges were sodden.
As dusk began to fall and the last of the daylight was fading, the trucks finally pulled off the road and into a field which bordered dense woodland. Everyone was ordered off the trucks and escorted to the trees where they were made to crowd together with only the pine trees as cover. They had been kept in two separate groups and Fitz had not had the opportunity to get anywhere near Yvette. She had caught sight of her every now and again through the groups of people, but Fitz still couldn’t work out if Yvette was alone or not.
The prisoners all huddled down on the damp forest floor, and Fitz wished she could wrap her arms around Yvette to reassure her and to keep her warm. As they sat there, Fitz did consider her chances of escaping. There were twelve guards altogether, with six on duty and six sleeping. She wondered how far she would get and where she would run to?
‘Don’t even think about it,’ said a voice in her ear.
It was the man who had sat opposite her on the truck.
‘Think about what?’ said Fitz. It was best to be on her guard, she didn’t know who she could trust here. Admit to nothing for as long as possible had been a piece of advice she’d been given back at SOE training.
The man sitting next to her raised his eyebrows. ‘They wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. Or some of us as punishment.’
Sadly, it was true. Reprisal executions were a very effective deterrent.
‘I’m not planning on trying to escape,’ replied Fitz. And it was the truth. Breaking free was just a fantasy. Nothing more than a romantic idea to keep her spirits up because, ultimately, she couldn’t escape without Yvette.
The rain stopped at some point during the night, but by the time morning came, it had started again. The two parties were escorted back to the trucks. The field was like a sponge as theypicked their way across the uncut grass, before climbing into the trucks.
Now back on the hard, wooden bench, Fitz waited as the drivers brought the engines to life and prepared to move out.
The engines revved high and the trucks protested at being required to cross the boggy grass through the gateway and out onto the road. As the first truck got to the gateway, Fitz could hear the engine being worked hard to drive the vehicle through the mud, it sounded like it was wheel spinning. After a few fruitless minutes of trying to get any traction, Fitz and the rest of the prisoners in her truck, were ordered out to push the first one.
The mud was deep and squelchy, coming over her shoes, the act of just lifting her foot out of the mud wasn’t easy. Under the orders of the guards, they tried as hard as they could to push the truck forwards but it wouldn’t budge. Several prisoners were escorted back to the forest to gather branches to place under the tyres and the passengers on the first truck were ordered out. The rain was driving down now and thunder clapped in the sky. The guards had to shout to be heard over the noise of the weather. In the commotion, Fitz had managed to shuffle near to the back of the truck and as the passengers disembarked she watched like a hawk, waiting for Yvette. As soon as Fitz saw the blonde hair of the child, she pushed her way forwards and grabbed Yvette’s hand.
Yvette didn’t look up and Fitz dragged her back into the crowd, before crouching in front of her. ‘Yvette,’ she said, lifting the child’s chin up. ‘It’s me, Claudine.’
