The Brigandshaw Chronicles Box Set 2, page 110
part #4 of The Brigandshaw Chronicles Series
Melina had listened a full minute before she was certain, the only other sound in the air the occasional flapping of the big sail as it tried to catch enough wind to let the boat tack its way in towards the distant harbour of Romanshorn. With the light wind blowing, they tacked three hundred yards to make ten in the right direction. When she was convinced the engine sound was coming their way, the vibrations more in the air than her ears as the wind came and went, she called across to Monsieur Montpellier at the tiller. Monsieur Montpellier was the owner of the boat and father of her schoolfriend Françoise. Françoise was sitting on the edge of the boat between Melina and Melina’s sister Gabby, ready to lean back with the crew if the wind picked up and pushed the yacht over at an angle to the water.
“There’s an aircraft flying this way,” she said in perfect French.
“I hear nothing. Where would they land? No aeroplanes fly this way, my dear.”
“I can hear it,” said Gabby.
“So can I,” said Françoise.
For the next few minutes the crew listened more to the throbbing of the distant engines than the sound of the wind in the sails. Some were curious, most were excited at the prospect of seeing an aeroplane.
“Well, Melina, you were right. The engine sound is coming this way,” said Monsieur Montpellier, keeping his careful eyes on the sails. “Going about,” he called into the still, mountain air before bringing his boat about to continue his tack with the other two yachts towards the distant church spire of Romanshorn, the target of his approach.
“There it is! Just above the water. At the end of the lake,” called Melina. “It’s a German aircraft, I’ll bet. My father and brother are pilots.”
They all watched, convinced by Melina’s knowledge of aeroplanes that the aircraft was German, the Germans on board smiling, the Swiss not so sure.
“There must be something wrong,” said Monsieur Montpellier, standing up for a better look while still holding on to the tiller. “It’s going to come down in the lake. Oh, my God. There’s going to be a terrible accident.”
“I don’t think so,” said Melina, triumphantly. “German aircraft don’t crash. It’s a seaplane. Going to land on the lake near Romanshorn. I’m sure they’ll know my father. Just look at it. It’s touched the water. A big, big bird sending spray high behind into the air. Beautiful. Just beautiful. I feel so proud to be German. Just look how big it is.”
In her excitement, Melina was standing. Miles away beyond the lake, the white caps of the Alps made a perfect backdrop for the spectacle. Melina was hugging herself with excitement.
“It’s turned towards Romanshorn. I was right,” she said, surprised she was the only one who was excited.
“Sit down, Melina, or you’ll fall out of the boat and the water’s cold,” said Gabby, once again in the shadow of her sister, something she hated.
“What a magnificent seaplane.”
“Must be a passenger plane,” said Monsieur Montpellier, training his Zeiss glasses on the seaplane as it taxied in on what seemed through the glasses to be two of its four engines towards the shore. “Goodness. Four engines. Lands on its hull, the wing floats just to keep it stable. Civilian, not military. I didn’t know anything that big could fly. There are no markings on the fuselage or the wings. We are going to have interesting company at the hotel tonight. Everyone be ready. We’re going to come around again if the wind will hold. There’s more wind over in Germany by the look of the flag on the stationary German patrol boat. The wind over there is moving the German flag.”
“Slipstream from the propellers,” said Melina smugly. “The motorboat is almost awash. Why did they get so close?”
“To have a good look, Melina. Oh yes, to have a good look. There’s a flag being pushed out from the cockpit window by the look of it. A Union Jack it seems. Melina, that seaplane is not German. It’s British.”
“Then what is it doing here?” said Melina, somewhat deflated as she sat back down again, her young mind beginning to race; even at three months short of her sixteenth birthday the coincidence was far too great.
Ever since Melina experienced her first family fight she had always sided with her brother Erwin, even when she knew he was wrong. Apparently wrong, Erwin always had a good reason. The letter from Erwin to Monsieur Montpellier’s house in Geneva arrived for her before they left for the lake and their three-week sailing holiday where they were to stay at the Romanshorn hotel. Monsieur Montpellier owned houses in Geneva and Marseille. Owning the boat at Romanshorn was enough. Madam Montpellier, not being a good sailor, preferred to stay in Geneva when her family went sailing, making a hotel to stay in more convenient than a house for her husband. Françoise had said, when they had first met at school in Geneva, her father was a banker.
The banker was a lot older than his young wife, giving Melina and Gabby a fit of the giggles when they left for the lake, both girls sure their schoolfriend’s mother preferred being left on her own to pursue more pleasant arrangements than sailing an old boat up and down a lake. It was Gabby who loved the sailing, Melina on her fourth trip not so sure. Apart from Françoise and Gabby, every person on board was old, a constant change of business friends who came for the day to enjoy being entertained by Monsieur Montpellier. Switzerland, unlike Germany, Melina had commented sourly to Gabby, was a morning’s train ride from anywhere.
With the British seaplane rocking the German patrol boat and the family estate just over the border, Melina wondered if the letter from her brother was the connection. Thinking hard, she let her brother’s letter play again through her mind. The letter was postmarked Berlin.
‘They’ve probably taken father away by now so don’t take any notice of mother. She’s hysterical. Mother and I had one terrible row after father wanted me to leave Berlin. The Hitler Youth have agreed to keep me at school for my last year, father saying we’ve run out of money. Then I join the Luftwaffe to serve our Fatherland. Germany will rise again, Melina. Never forget that. Whatever they say, Germany must rise again or we are nothing. Father will learn like the others. People are either for the Fatherland or against the Fatherland. Those against, are our enemies. Father, like Uncle Werner, will again be a loyal member of the Nazi Party or he will no longer be our father. Mother must learn to understand. Very soon there is going to be a war that Germany will win. I am so proud to be a German, you have no idea, my darling sister. You too must be proud. The family must all be proud or I can have nothing more to do with them, you understand.’
Two hours later, when the three yachts came into the small yacht basin passing the British seaplane on the way, Melina was sure something was seriously wrong with her family. That her father had done something terribly wrong. On the jetty in front of the restaurant stood Herr Krock with Herr Tannenbaum alongside four men.
“I wonder who they are?” said Gabby.
Melina went cold, her premonition of disaster stronger than ever.
“I don’t know… I hope this has nothing to do with what Erwin wrote,” she murmured to her sister, once again thinking back to her letter from Erwin.
“What do you mean? Daddy says Erwin’s coming home. He’ll be home when we get back… Françoise, can we get some chocolate cake? I’ve got a little money. While your father is tying up the boat we can go to the cake shop on the pier… Look at that, Melina. That man is waving at us as if he has come to meet the boat. Oh good. Maybe he’ll buy the cake? Are you coming, you two? Is there something wrong, Melina? You can be so funny sometimes. Now that was a lovely sail.”
One by one, the three yachts found their anchor buoys and tied up for the night, having first dropped most of the crew and the passengers on the jetty. Gabby was smiling at Harry Brigandshaw and the young boy standing next to him, having just been introduced by Mr Tannenbaum. She found it funny standing on shore after so many hours on the boat, the jetty still seeming to move despite the swell of the boat no longer being under her feet. Something was wrong with Melina but something was often wrong with her. Gabby had found it better to humour her older sister rather than ask questions. As the youngest of the trio it was her job to tag along behind.
With her mind set on chocolate cake, Gabby was smiling at everyone. Next to the boy was a young man and next to Mr Brigandshaw, another man the same age as him.
Then, quietly she said to Melina, “I remember now, that man saved Daddy’s life. That must be his seaplane. He and Daddy were both pilots. Maybe we can go up in the aeroplane? I do hope he buys the cake. Why are you looking so sour, Melina?”
“They are the enemy.”
“Don’t talk rubbish. The war’s been over twenty years. Anyway, Daddy said Mr Brigandshaw saved him from his burning aircraft.”
“Erwin says it has just started. Anyway, it was this man who shot down our father before he landed and pulled him out of the wreckage. They were trying to kill each other. They were enemies.”
Gabby remembered her mother telling her about their visit to Hastings Court in England and wondered about the younger boy who was of a similar age to her. The boy she noticed was grinning at her. Gabby smiled back at him, making Melina give her one of those sour looks of disapproval she liked so much. Whether it was because he was a boy or English, Gabby was not sure. The other young man was looking warmly at Melina, as if he saw something he liked. Then they all trooped into the cake shop without Gabby having to ask.
For half an hour, while she happily ate her favourite chocolate cake, Mr Tannenbaum, who Gabby knew had lived many years in America teaching Americans to ski, translated the conversation from German to English and back again. Only when Monsieur Montpellier came back from mooring his boat did they speak French, only some of which Gabby understood.
The boy was still grinning at her. Mr Brigandshaw was also smiling at her when he was not talking to someone else. He was, as her mother and father had always told Gabby, a very nice man, despite he and her father being made to fight each other during the war, something Gabby could still not understand. If they were friends now why had they tried to kill each other up in the sky flying their aeroplanes? Of all the silly things that grown-ups did, killing each other to Gabby was the silliest of them all.
Instead of the four men coming back to the hotel, Ferdinand came along the jetty with his horse and trap, stopping outside the restaurant where they had eaten the cake. Ferdinand took four small suitcases from the buggy and put them down on the wooden pier. Then he turned round the horse that for a moment looked at Gabby through the open window with doleful eyes. The horse and buggy clip-clopped away down the wooden planks of the pier. Gabby had no idea what was going on until the young man left.
From inside what Gabby thought of as the cake shop, she watched another man pick up the cases one by one and climb down with them out of sight. Gabby presumed the man was putting the cases into a boat. Then Mr Brigandshaw was leaving. Meeting him on the pier was a coincidence, like many other things Gabby often did not understand. When all the cases had gone from the pier, everyone began shaking hands. Briefly, Mr Brigandshaw again shook hers. Monsieur Montpellier did not seem to know what had been going on from the time he came back for the girls after tying up the boat.
From the window Gabby watched a rubber dinghy push out from under the pier with the four men on board where she could also see the suitcases. Mr Montpellier had now sat down at their table to watch and eat cake with Herr Tannenbaum, whom Gabby knew was the man from customs. The dinghy moved much faster than a normal rowing boat out to the aeroplane. Further out in the lake, the German patrol boat had come back again. The boy waved to Gabby from the dinghy and Gabby waved back. It was a pity, she thought, the boy could not speak German.
Not long after, they all watched the engines of the big seaplane start up, the German patrol boat this time keeping a better distance. Then the plane taxied round and faced out into the lake and into the wind. The four engines made the big propellers go round so fast they became invisible. Gabby watched the seaplane take off. Then they all left the restaurant to walk back to their hotel. When Gabby turned round, the plane was well on its way to fly over the peaks of the mountains. Smiling sadly, Gabby wondered if the boy was waving. Just in case, she waved herself before following her sister, who had lost all interest in the aeroplane when she found out it was not German.
“What was that all about?” she asked her sister back at the Romanshorn hotel.
“I have no idea. Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“Why do you say that, Melina?”
“They’re English. You’re too young to understand. They are the enemy.”
“Why?”
“Erwin says we’re going to war with them. Soon. Germany is going to be great again.”
“Why will going to war make any difference?”
“Last time we lost. This time we will win. We will defeat the English and the French. Erwin says we must all be proud to be German. Anyway, why was that boy grinning at you?”
“I really don’t know, but I liked the look of him.”
3
Harry Brigandshaw said to Timothy Kent a week later, when Harry was back at the Air Ministry, that it was like eating soup with a fork.
“Every time I thought I’d got something it fell off. The Swiss are inscrutable. Playing both sides without favours. Soon after the girls got off their yacht the German patrol boat was back. It can take hours to make a person to person call from Hastings Court. I think the Germans and the Swiss have a direct line to their police stations. Never once did Herr Krock say a word. Everything came from the bumbling Herr Tannenbaum, who I don’t think was quite so bumbling after all. Sometimes it is impossible to do friends a favour, so we left when the suitcases suddenly appeared with the patrol boat in the Swiss water far too close to the flying boat for my liking… Coastal Command will love her. Easy to fly. Easy to land. Quick to launch a rubber boat from the big hatch low down on the hull three feet above the waterline. Even in rolling seas they’ll be able to get out and back with stranded pilots. Positioned along the south coast and connected by phone from our radar stations, we’ll be able to hit Jerry bombers over the Channel with Fighter Command and pick up any of our chaps shot down in the sea with the flying boats. Coastal Command can be on the way to shadow the dogfights and pick up downed pilots. They’ll be in the right place at the right time. Better than patrol boats looking for pilots in the drink from sea-level, especially when there’s a swell. Any German aircrew picked up in the sea will be incarcerated and out of the war for its duration, an even more valuable prize than shooting down their aircraft.”
“I’ll pass it on.”
“They’ve got Klaus, I’m sure. The older girl knew something, the way she looked at me. Same brainwashing as the brother. They were close those two. Bergit said Melina hero-worshipped her older brother. I think she knew what was going on from young Erwin. Get them young enough and you can make them do anything. We were politely told by the Swiss to bugger off after Tannenbaum spoke to Bergit on the phone in Germany to find out who we were. Poor girl. Poor Germany. Poor Europe. Anyone who doesn’t agree with Hitler and his Party get their arse kicked. This isn’t just about the Jews. It’s about anyone who challenges the power of the Nazi Party. You only need a few evil men to turn a nation rotten. If you ask me, everyone is scared shitless including Bergit, worrying about what they will do to her family if she gets in the way. When Tannenbaum said he’d spoken to Bergit on the phone I thought I was getting somewhere, especially when the man said the girls were on one of the yachts on the lake and Bergit wanted me to see them. Then it all fell apart when Melina and Gabby came ashore. One minute we were told we could stay one night only, the next our suitcases appear on the jetty. So that’s it, Tim. I’ve done my best. All we can do for Klaus and Germany is hope. Why is it always the right royal sods in life are the ones who win?”
“They don’t have a conscience. Only a purpose. Megalomaniacs don’t think like you and me. Just because a man has similar outward features doesn’t mean his brain is wired the same way as yours. Even what they say doesn’t correspond to what’s in their head. They have no scruples killing people so long as it is not themselves, they’ll sacrifice an army to save their own skin. Make a bloody army fight for them, telling them so persuasively it’s in everyone’s best interest who’s doing the fighting, the fault only found out when the tyrant takes power and keeps the spoils for himself and his cronies. We’ve had them all the way down history under different guises, people wanting power. Some use national pride. Some use religion. Many plain fear. Some, the promise of plenty. Most somewhere appeal to man’s inherent greed. Rape and pillage are part of all of us, Harry. The chances of any of us coming down through history without being the product of rape is nil. We’re all a direct product of the rapist and the raped. Who we are running through our veins, those of us who survived. Meek and mild people don’t last very long whatever the Christians will have us think. Nice idea. Just goes against human nature. You did your best, Harry. Nothing to look back on and regret, whatever horror comes out of it. Just makes me even more determined to defend England against tyranny.”
“We’re going to have to fight them aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are. Why don’t you send a full report to Coastal Command? Glad to have you back, sir. Sorry about the diatribe. All this wasted effort of mankind gets me wound up and that’s a mistake. Never take it personal. Better still, get right out of the way which, looking at the future, is not going to be possible.”
