Chapter 7
Colmar was a picturesque medieval market town in the Alsace region, close to the German border and the Rhine River, formerly in eastern France.
Lizzie arrived on the outskirts of the town early the following morning after sheltering in a derelict barn a few miles from the drop zone.
When the silver moonlight was usurped by the hazy morning light, she rose from her uncomfortable spot on the hard, damp floor and peeked out of the barn to get the lay of the land by day.
The SOE had no friendly faces or safe houses in this region for her to spend the night as she would usually have done in occupied France, so her instructions were to wait out the darkness until she could find her way into town in the morning.
The field she was in was bleak with no buildings in sight, which was a blessing. It was flat farmland, far from German checkpoints and ideal for infiltration. The sky was a steely grey and threatened rain, and she was pleased she had worn her raincoat underneath her jumpsuit.
Taking no chances, she’d already buried her landing gear in the nearby woods before stumbling through the eerie darkness into the barn by the thin trail of moonlight.
Lizzie chewed on a piece of hard bread she had stored in her pocket and then took a bite of the dark chocolate Jack had slipped into her hand during the car journey.
‘Keep this for first thing in the morning. It will be a long night, and you’ll need all your energy for the journey into Colmar. If your jump goes according to plan, you’ll be a good ten miles out of town.’
The chocolate was delicious, and the sugar hit surged through her as she pictured Jack and wondered what he was doing now. She guessed he wouldn’t have slept much either. He said he never did when she was away.
X Section briefed them it was far too dangerous to drop into Colmar itself, with its heavy Gestapo presence and German military stationed there.
The plan was for her to spend a few hours in Colmar so she could get an accurate gauge of her pretend hometown before taking a train to Strasbourg, where she would rendezvous with Hannah.
She had decided during the night as she hunched against the barn wall, trying to keep warm in her raincoat, that she wouldn’t break the news about Henry to Hannah immediately.
It would be too much to lay on her at that point.
One wrong move as they travelled in plain sight as Alsatian war widows on their way to Berlin would sign both their death warrants.
Lizzie couldn’t take the chance that Hannah would hold it together, knowing her fiancé was likely dead.
After covering any signs of her presence in the derelict barn, Lizzie scanned the area again before emerging into the bracing wind. Between the effects of the cold and the chocolate, she was now wide awake and set out on foot to Colmar to try to catch a ride along the way.
She was about to remove her tiny compass, camouflaged by a button on her raincoat, when she reached the end of the field and saw a sign marked Kolmar.
Her insides burned with resentment as she noticed the Germanized spelling of the formerly French town. In her intensive language and culture training, they’d warned her to expect everything to be in German. All signage would be in the occupier’s language.
Still, at least there was signage. The arrogant Nazis clearly didn’t factor in the possibility they might lose the war.
The more pragmatic Britons, for all Churchill’s brave rallying talk, had removed or painted over all road signs early in the war when the threat was high that the Germans would invade the island.
Unfortunately, it also made it difficult for everyone who wasn’t local to find their way around.
The goal was to create chaos for invaders, and Lizzie thought that if Hitler’s Sea Lion operation hadn’t famously failed, Britain would have succeeded at least in that.
Lizzie heard the rumble of wheels in the distance and turned her head to see a horse-drawn cart approaching. As the farmer drew closer, he called out in a friendly voice, ‘Need a ride? It’s market day and I’m going into Colmar.’
Lizzie accepted the farmer’s generous offer and jumped into the back of the cart, which was loaded with produce. She found a spot to perch on a sack and bounced about as the cart moved towards town.
‘What are you doing out here alone at this hour?’ he asked.
Lizzie had already prepared her answer. ‘I missed the last train to Colmar yesterday.’
The farmer shook his head as though despairing of the youth of today, but his tone was indulgent. ‘You young people don’t know how to be punctual like back in my day,’ he said, a smile spreading over his lined face.
Lizzie laughed and said he was probably right, but she had paid the price and would learn from her mistakes.
They met a few loaded carts and wagons along the way, but it was an uneventful ride until they reached Colmar, and the cart slowed and joined a line at the entrance to the town.
‘What’s this?’ Lizzie asked, her heartbeat increasing rapidly as she assessed the checkpoint. ‘I don’t usually enter like this.’
‘There are extra checkpoints on market days,’ he said, his voice dropping. ‘Nothing to worry about, but it may take some time. You have your papers?’
Lizzie nodded and slid fully into the role of a young woman travelling to the city from her village. ‘I hope it won’t take too long,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I have things to do today.’
‘Tell that to the Germans,’ the farmer grumbled.
It wasn’t long before they reached the front of the queue, and a soldier stepped towards them. ‘Papiere, bitte,’ he commanded.
Lizzie clutched her forged documents in her hand, ready for inspection as the soldier checked the farmer’s papers and then turned his inquiring gaze to her.
‘And what is a pretty young woman like you doing squatting in the back of a farm cart?’ he asked.
The farmer replied before she could. ‘I gave her a ride into town. She has papers.’
Lizzie offered hers to the soldier, who studied them carefully.
This was the first proper test of her cover.
The SOE forgery department was skilled and had never let her down before, but documents in occupied territories changed frequently, and having the latest version was always a risk they had to take.
X Section had produced them, and Val and Jack had signed off on them.
Lizzie didn’t breathe as he held the papers, and she waited to see if they satisfied him. ‘You are a local?’ he said in German.
The soldier made no effort to speak French, as they sometimes did in occupied France. Colmar had been annexed by the Reich, and citizens were expected to show allegiance to Germany and to speak German. Lizzie confirmed she was from a nearby village.
After a tense few moments, he handed the papers back to her and waved them through without another word.
Lizzie breathed again, and relief flooded her body.
The mission was on.
She had made it to Colmar.