A volley of bullets peppered the ground near both men, and Max decided it was time to move. ‘We’ll turn, and then you’ll hear the engines rev up for take-off speed. That’s us ready to go.’
‘Understood. You’d better go now,’ Koch said, offering Max a hasty salute. Max returned the gesture and then headed back towards the bomber’s belly hatch at a sprint. He pulled himself up inside and clambered through the bombardier’s compartment to the cockpit.
‘What took you so bloody long?’ said Pieter.
Chapter 45
Mission Time: 6 Hours, 12 Minutes Elapsed
8.17 a.m., an airfield outside Nantes
Koch watched as the B-17’s engines roared to life and all four propellors began spinning. Almost immediately the plane began to roll forward on its wheels. It turned in a tight arc, around one hundred and eighty degrees, to face down the strip towards the GIs, who, even now, were getting ready to deliver a withering barrage of small- arms fire for the plane to hurl itself at.
Koch watched as three of the remaining, undamaged Me-109s began to move too. They pulled away from the flames, which had now subsided a little, and moved to one side to allow the bomber the room to manoeuvre.
He got to his feet and waited for a lull in the firing before scurrying across to Scholn’s stack of crates. He slid down beside him as Scholn finished off firing a clip to give him a little covering fire.
‘Lovely weather for it,’ he said, grinning at Koch.
‘I’m driving the fuel truck down towards those men,’ he said, pointing to the Americans at the bottom of the strip. ‘We need them moved before the planes can take off. Have you got any grenades?’
Scholn shook his head; he called out to the man on his right. ‘Erich… you got grenades?’ The man shook his head. ‘The captain needs grenades, pass it on.’ The man nodded and the message was passed down the line.
Koch could have kicked himself. On his orders, they had shed a lot of their heavier field equipment from the U-boat prior to climbing aboard the dinghies. He’d wanted them to travel light. They hadn’t been expecting this kind of action today. He’d ordered one or two of his men to keep hold of a couple, just to be on the safe side. He hoped that one of those men was here.
His luck was in, and a moment later he watched as several grenades were tossed gingerly from one man to the next until finally Scholn handed him three. ‘Is that enough, sir?’
Koch nodded. ‘That’ll do.’
The bomber had turned round and was now facing down the strip. He heard the engines rise in pitch, the pilot’s sign that they were ready to go.
‘Pass this along, I want you all to lay down covering fire on the sandbags while I go for the truck and start it off down the strip. It’s still half full of fuel, and enough shots on target by those bastards over there and it’ll go up like a torch,’ he said, pointing to the Americans by the sandbags, maintaining intermittent fire on them, keeping Koch and his men on the ground behind the crates.
‘Yes, sir, covering fire.’
The truck was only about thirty feet back from Scholn’s position; Koch decided it should be relatively easy to get to the driver’s cabin and start her up. Once the truck started rolling, the movement would attract everyone’s attention and it would quickly become the Americans’ favourite target. He hoped the covering fire would last long enough for him to drive the truck out of range of those bastards up at this end of the airfield.
‘Scholn… make sure you keep their heads down as long as possible so I can get the truck away, all right?’ The man nodded. ‘Use up your ammo if you have to, but keep it going as long as possible.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Right… pass the order on.’
Scholn bellowed the instructions out to the other men nearby, while Koch took a moment to steady his nerves. Running for the truck would be nasty, but bearing down on the men at the far end of the strip in a vehicle still carrying several thousand gallons of aviation fuel while they all concentrated their fire at him… that was going to be even nastier.
‘We’re ready when you are, sir,’ said Scholn as he slid another magazine into his MP-40.
Koch slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Once the planes are up, the job’s done. You make sure you boys surrender, right?’
He nodded.
‘Fine. Then I’ll see you and Buller later.’ He got to his feet, crouching, waiting for a pause in the sporadic fire of the Americans. The pause came, and Koch rose quickly, sprinting towards the truck. He reached the door to the cabin only a few seconds later, having attracted no shots whatsoever.
Just you wait until this thing begins to move.
He tugged the door open and pulled himself up inside. Despite the half a dozen or so dents and bullet holes in the vehicle’s engine hood, she still started easily. He threw the truck into gear and the truck began its journey towards the far end of the strip.
‘He’s off!’ said Max.
‘What’s he going to do?’ asked Pieter, leaning forward in his seat to look down from the cockpit window.
‘I think the plan is to drive it down there and blow it up. If nothing else the smoke will hide us from them until it’s too late.’
‘Shit, we’re taking off through smoke? What if we hit something?’
Max shrugged. ‘There isn’t much else we can do.’
‘True.’
‘Let’s just get ready.’
Koch threw the truck into third gear and pushed the accelerator to the floor. The truck’s suspension bounced him up and down without mercy as the wheels found the occasional dent and bump in the grass strip. Over the laboured whine of the engine he could hear the splashing of gasoline in the fuel tank behind the cabin. Ahead he could see the enemy soldiers pointing towards the truck, bringing their weapons to bear on him. Some of them started firing, but the range as yet was still far enough that most of the shots were off-target. With one hand, Koch pulled the three grenades out of the hip pocket of his camouflage jacket and laid them on the scuffed and torn leather of the passenger seat. He put the truck up another gear, and the whine of the engine dropped to an unforgiving moan that rose in pitch as he pushed the accelerator down again. The truck rolled over another small bump; its flaccid suspension bounced Koch out of his seat and the three grenades up into the air. Two landed back on the passenger seat, the third clattered onto the floor of the cabin. Ahead the Americans were now close enough to fire on him, and in well-trained unison, under the orders of an officer, they let rip.
Koch lay down on his side, still holding the steering wheel with one hand as the windscreen imploded and showered him with glass. He heard the engine hood and the radiator grill clang and shudder as a multitude of bullets began to shred the front of the vehicle. He stole a quick look over the dashboard. The men ahead of him were now the size of a thumb at arm’s length, no more than forty or fifty feet away.
Now’s as good a time as any.
With his knees he held the steering wheel, with his hands he grabbed one of the grenades, unscrewed the cap and grabbed hold of the fuse-string inside the handle.
Here we go.
He pulled on the string, and the grenade’s fuse commenced its ten-second burn. He dropped it on the passenger seat and reached for the handle on the driver-side door.
From where they were at the top of the strip, it looked like the truck was now almost amongst the soldiers at the bottom. Max wasn’t sure if the young captain had intended to blow the vehicle up or simply drive it through to distract them momentarily. If he’d intended to blow it up, Max thought, he’d have done it by now. Whatever his plan, he decided it would be best that they start their way down the strip now and take advantage of the distraction and confusion the truck was currently causing.
Of course, there was the added danger that the truck was going to blow up just as Max lifted the plane over the top of it. The way things had gone here this morning, he wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the way this
