The Caves of Périgord: A Novel

sweating Berger came into view with a young woman, gray-eyed and with wind-blown blond hair, whose arrival made the men fall silent and pick up their already clean guns to tend them again. The two of them were wearing trousers and anoraks and carrying rucksacks, as if out for a hike. Their rucksacks were full of wine and food and Caporal cigarettes. The woman went straight to the old man, asleep and pale on his stretcher.
    “She’s a doctor,” said Berger, straightening his back. “Well, almost as good. She’s a vet. I thought you might need one. How is he?”
    “In shock, lost a lot of blood. I don’t think the bone was hit but there are two entry wounds and only one exit. One bullet’s still in there,” said McPhee. “I dusted the wounds with sulfa powder—it’s the best we’ve got.”
    “What’s the news from le Buisson?” asked François, through a mouthful of bread.
    “Good, very good,” Berger said as the Maquis gathered around him for the news. “It was a great job, boys. All the tracks and points are gone. One of the railway men told me it will take two weeks to repair, even if they can get the new points. With the Allied bombing in the north, they can’t cast new points fast enough. The Boches took all the French stocks last year, because of the bombing of their rail network. The bad news is that two companies of Boches have arrived and commandeered a house beside the station. It looks like they will put a permanent guard there.”
    “Are they taking reprisals?” asked Frisé. “I have family in le Buisson. So does Lespinasse.”
    “Nothing yet, but they beat up a few people when they did their search. A new squad of Milice is on the way with some Gestapo, according to the railway men, and apparently they are bastards. Le Buisson is in for a rough time. The priest told me that ten guys have taken off for the hills already.”
    “Do we know where they are?”
    “Up somewhere in those woods above the Gouffre, the big cave. There are some remote farms up there, sheep and cattle. They’ll be all right. One of our emergency camps is nearby, where we have a small arms dump. Frisé, you’ll know some of them. If you go across the river tonight, find the guys, and we’ll meet you at that camp near Audrix tomorrow evening.”
    “Did the railway men know where the rail repair train would come from?” asked Manners. Back in England they had been told that the French railroad workers, traditionally left wing and with a strong trade union, would be their most useful informants.
    “Due from Bergerac tomorrow. Why?”
    “That means it will come through le Bugue?”
    “Of course, but why?”
    “I’d rather derail one of those than almost anything else. Are there any good ambush points?”
    “There’s the bridge over the Vézère, but that will be guarded,” said Berger. “Then the track runs along the road by the river, with a steep wooded hill on one side. There would be places there, but it’s close to le Buisson, and the Boches would be there within ten minutes, unless they are already patrolling the line.”
    “We have not told you of our new secret weapon,” said François. He lifted the tarpaulin off the Spandau. “The Germans are in soft-topped trucks. So we ambush the repair train, and when the Boches come along the road to the rescue, we ambush them from the far side of the river. This gun is accurate up to a kilometer. We’ll do a lot of damage.”
    “Do we have time to set all this up?” interjected McPhee.
    “I have to go back to the dump to get some more explosives, which means crossing the river. And I’ll need the electric detonator,” said Manners. “And then find an ambush point. We have to move now, and find a good firing point for the Spandau, then pick a rendezvous point. We also need to be sure that the Spandau is firing accurately from the moment it opens up—so has anybody ever used one, apart from me?”
    “Of course,” said François. “We used them whenever we could capture one in the desert—much better than those little Bren guns you British gave us.” He looked down at the coiled bandoliers. “I have more than enough ammo, but I’ll need two men to carry it. I’ll take the Marine and the sergeant. They can both use a rifle.”
    “We rendezvous at the Gouffre—it’s about two miles through the hills from that stretch of rail track,” said Berger. “François, you had better go with Manners to agree about your firing point and his