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Legion at eighteen and, after serving his time, had settled in Alsace and worked the land before receiving his ‘call from God’. Wolf stood six foot two with broad shoulders, a shock of grey, rapidly whitening hair, hands that looked and felt like vices and a fierce scar, gained in a bar in Algiers, which travelled the length of the left side of his craggy face. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about him was his quiet, almost feminine melodic voice.

Another remarkable thing about Wolf Rahn was that he was the leader of the local resistance movement.

“The others are starting to arrive now,” he sang. Kelly smiled inwardly; with that voice in the Legion, you would have to be tough, or get tough quickly, he thought.

Aloud he said, “Where are we meeting, Padre?”

“Why here in the Church. I will give the sermon and you will be my congregation!”

They moved into the church where people were beginning to enter and arrange themselves on the front pews. The small group from La Petite Pierre joined them and took their seats.

“Friends! Comrades!” intoned the vicar from the pulpit. “I have been asked to chair our meeting today and let me start with a most important announcement. The invasion is ON! Liberation is at hand!” It should have sounded dramatic, but coming as it did from Priest Rahn, something was lost. Nevertheless, there was a stir among those assembled.

“The invasion will take place along a front between Gravelines and Bray Dunes,” he was explaining.

Dunkirk! Of course, thought Kelly, it made sense. Retreat from Dunkirk then back in via Dunkirk. It was symmetrical, balanced. Retribution!

Wolfgang had moved on to the need for harassing tactics. The main threat to the Allies, he explained, were the large rockets being made in St Omer. It was said that they were capable of wiping out a whole company of soldiers, possibly even a battalion.

The audible gasp from the audience confirmed that Kelly wasn’t the only person who had no idea rockets were being produced in St Omer. Kelly had heard vague stories about ‘Doodle Bugs’ being fired at London and causing massive damage. If these same rockets were capable of being fired at an invasion force, the consequences would be devastating.

The rest of the ‘sermon’ consisted of logistical arrangements. Andre and team were to merge with a team from St Omer. Their task would be to cause maximum disruption to stores and supplies heading for the rocket making complex.

The four met with the much larger team from St Omer after the main meeting and discussed locations, safe houses, accommodation, and strategies. They would enter St Omer that night via the canals and marshes.

Kelly found time to talk briefly with Rahn about the rockets.

“I don’t have too much detail, Dragan,” explained Wolf. “I could take you to the exact location of the bunker where the rockets are made, but I have no idea what happens inside there.”

“Can’t we just attack the bunker?” asked Kelly.

“Impossible!” said the priest. “It would take a brigade-sized force to overcome the defences. There is possibly no better guarded place in France.”

“What about bombing?” Kelly persisted.

“The allies are aware of the location of the bunker,” confirmed Rahn, “but they have never bombed it. Apart from the fact that the bunker is said to be bomb proof, I imagine they will be wary of causing massive French casualties at this stage of the war.”

As night fell, Kelly and his new team made their way towards the canals. There was a long night ahead of them, a large part of which would be spent wading waist deep in marshes around the outskirts of St Omer. For the first time in months Kelly felt buoyed. This was important, this was something worth risking his life for.

The first two raids were fairly inconsequential affairs; raids on barges carrying stores into St Omer. On both occasions they were able to send the bargee and, in one case his family, scattering into the fenlands unharmed, before they scuttled the barges.

On the third raid the group was too big, consisting as usual of Kelly, Élise, Andre and Claude but joined by Father Wolf and four of the St Omer group. They moved into position, an ambush on a minor road into town. Their target, a pair of vehicles carrying what was believed to be fuel for the rockets.

Kelly had been uneasy all day. He wasn’t happy with the size of the group, particularly as the St Omer group included two men he had never previously met. To add to the problems, some of the attached group seemed like novices. They had not yet mastered the ability to ‘ghost’ through the lanes making no noise. The consequence was that although to an outside observer they moved in relative silence, to Kelly it seemed as if he was walking alongside a herd of elephants.

As they settled into their ambush positions, Kelly had Andre on his right and Wolf on his left. Earlier he had expressed his concern at the size of the group to Wolfgang Rahn, but the priest had assured him of the need for this bigger group. The trucks would each have an armed guard. They couldn’t be too careful; they might be glad of the extra firepower.

The group took too long to settle, but finally there was silence. Kelly looked along the line. He could see Andre on his right and Wolf on his left but everyone else was invisible. It was a good position and they were well hidden. Then … a rustling from the right and whispering. More rustling. A man to the right of Andre rose and began walking to their rear. Kelly signalled to Andre who leaned towards him.

“Forgot his ammunition, going back for it!” whispered Andre.

Kelly stared incredulously at Andre for a second then spun around to Rahn. Rahn’s face showed his total disbelief. Simultaneously he and Kelly sprang to their feet, each bellowing a series of commands.

“Get out!” … “It’s a trap!” … “Disperse!” …

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