“Training and practice are over,” he said grimly. “Tonight, we go out to save our friends and neighbors. In the process, we might kill some Germans.”
A murmur of approval arose.
Ferrand lifted his hand for quiet. “We don’t want to become them,” he said. “We take no joy in this fight, and we don’t kill wantonly. Your mission is to save French families, not kill Germans. If you do kill, your friends and families can expect retaliation. Try first to render the guards unconscious. Failing that, do not hesitate.
“Remember, they will shoot. We only have knives and clubs. Surprise is our equalizer. If you find you must kill, then like we practiced, slice their throats or stab them. Regardless, take their guns and ammunition.”
Ferrand looked around at the faces of his group, some eager, some afraid. So young. A lump formed in his throat. “All right. We’ve been over all this before. Final reminders: I’ll be at the site in the designated place. Each two-man team will come to me. You have the schedule. At the site, I’ll give final clearance to go rescue the family at your target house. Use the shadows on your approach. The moon will be high, shining on the front of the houses. We’ll make our approach from the rear, among the shadows. Make best use of them.
“If anyone in the house chooses not to go, leave immediately. Don’t linger, don’t try to convince anyone. Just go.
“Those families that come with you should bring only the clothes they’re wearing. Take them to your designated safehouse. Someone else will take charge of them from there. You don’t need to know where they’re going or who takes over. You’ll leave immediately. Is that clear?”
He waited for the murmurings to subside, indicating that his instructions were understood. “Surveillance teams are watching the neighborhood now, and we should hear from them soon. Any last questions?”
“Ferrand,” a man called. “Shouldn’t we wait for a night that will be darker?”
Ferrand nodded with an air of resignation. “Good question,” he replied. “I’d like to wait, but time is not on our side. Hauptman Bergmann is back, and he wears an SS uniform. We know he’s going to press this neighborhood for that soldier’s death. He won’t wait. Any other questions?”
“Wouldn’t it be better,” another man called out, “for all of us to go at the same time? We could be in and out more quickly.”
Ferrand blew out a breath of air, the weight of his decisions lining his face and bearing on his voice. “I honestly don’t know. If everything goes smoothly, your suggestion would be best. But if shooting starts, we could have a lot of defenseless people caught in the open with bullets flying at mothers and children. It could be a bloodbath.” He paused. “Our way keeps our casualties to a minimum in case something goes wrong.” He closed his eyes momentarily in quiet reflection. “I hope I don’t regret my decision.”
Grim silence descended as his words settled in. “Any more questions?”
He received none.
“Everyone knows what to do in case we abort?”
The group’s members nodded and murmured assent.
A man suddenly stumbled into the warehouse through a side door. Sweat streamed down his red face, and he was out of breath.
“Bad news!” he called out. He leaned over panting, cupping his hands over his knees and supporting his torso with bent arms. “The Germans just added nine more soldiers to guard the neighborhood. There are now thirteen. The new ones are SS shock troops. There’s a guard on each house.”
Ferrand’s face became resolute. He held up a hand. “We need to modify our plan,” he said, “but we still go tonight.”
Ferrand sat cross-legged in deep shadows among the ruins of Dunkirk on the opposite side of the alley running behind the row of houses that included his own. Two men hunched at his shoulder. A third hovered behind them. He turned to the third man.
“You are from the last team?” he asked in a low voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes.”
“Brief me on what you are supposed to do under the new plan.”
“I’ll go with the two members of the first team. I’ll help subdue the guard and will be their lookout while they go inside to get the family. The team leader will take the rescued family to the safehouse. I’ll return here with the other team member. He’ll stay here with you to do the same for the next group, and I’ll return to my team and await our turn.”
“Exactly,” Ferrand said. He turned to the team leader. “Go, and good luck.”
He watched as the three men hunched over, moved out, and scurried through the moonlit rubble to the alley. One by one, they crossed the narrow passageway and disappeared into the shadows.
Less than five minutes later, the second team arrived at Ferrand’s side. Two minutes later, two of the men who had gone out with the first team returned.
“Success,” one of them said. “The guard will not regain consciousness tonight. The family is on its way to its safehouse.” He joined the second team while the other man returned to his own, the last one in the queue.
Three more times, teams went out with the same result. Then on the fourth, all three team members returned.
“The family wouldn’t leave. The SS guard stood right at their back door. The wife panicked when she saw him lying there after we clubbed him. She ran to a bedroom where she has two young children and wouldn’t come out. She’s terrified. Her husband tried to convince her, but she wouldn’t listen.”
Ferrand let out a slow breath. “I was afraid of exactly that,” he said. “Well, it can’t be helped. You did your jobs.”
“We can try again,” the team leader said. “The guard is already subdued. Two of us can go back, and the third man can stay here to help the next team.”
“Too
