20:30 (GMT)
Monday, September 9, 1940
R.A.F. Northolt
“Do you have any more questions before you go, George?”
“None, Nancy. We are as ready as we will ever be.”
They were all inside one of Northolt’s hangars, where Townsend and his 28 men had just completed a last check of their equipment and weapons. They were loaded as lightly as possible, since they may have to carry wounded prisoners out of the prison. Their plane, a Douglas DC-3, was parked just outside the hangar. Nancy looked at the commandos as they prepared themselves: they were quiet, professional soldiers who did not waste time on unnecessary matters. Many of them looked sideways at her as she walked around for a last inspection. She was already wearing a blue-grey Luftwafe female auxiliary’s uniform, with the skirt a little short and showing much of her legs: the base tailor had run into problems while fitting her because of her unusual height for a woman.
The pilot of the DC-3, who was talking with Air Commodore Nicholls, looked at his watch and gave a thumbs-up signal at Townsend. The commando officer then called his men’s attention.
“Alright men, the bombers will overfly the base soon. Get your equipment and get in the plane now.”
As the soldiers walked single file towards the DC-3, Nicholls shook Townsend’s hand with vigor.
“The best of luck to you, lad! A lot of good men’s lives will depend on you tonight.”
“Thank you, sir, but I have to say that all of us will in turn depend on Captain Laplante.”
“True, but I know that she will make it: you should have seen that precision jump of hers.”
Townsend was about to reply that it had not been done under combat conditions but decided wisely to shut his mouth. After a last salute to Nicholls, he turned and got on his plane. The DC-3’s engines sputtered to life and the transport aircraft soon started rolling, lining up in the wind and taking off on the grass field as the noise from a squadron of Wellington bombers was growing steadily. The DC-3 eventually took tail position in the bomber formation and disappeared to the Southeast in the quickly darkening sky. The first element of Operation Redemption was on its way. The second element was Nancy.
She excused herself with Nicholls and made a last trip to the restrooms before starting to put on her equipment: it would be a while before she had time for another comfort stop. Then watched by Nicholls and the pilot of the Westland Lysander who would fly her out, she methodically put on her gear. She first took off her regulation German shoes and stuffed them in a large belly pack containing her weapons and equipment, then started putting on the thick trousers of the Irvin thermal suit that would protect her from the cold wind at high altitude. She encountered a problem there, trying to pull up the trousers at the same time she was attempting to hold her skirt up to avoid it getting excessively wrinkled, something that could give her away after landing. She finally had to ask for the help of the delighted Lysander pilot, who got to pull her trousers up as she held her skirt above her hips, thus giving him an eyefull of her panties from up close. Nicholls had a chuckle at that.
“Consider that as an extra bonus for this mission, Flight Lieutenant Turner.”
“I don’t get this kind of bonus too often, sir.”
“You mean you don’t fly with women as backseaters on all your missions?” Asked a grinning Nancy.
“I wish I would, maam. I’m afraid it would distract me from my navigation, though.”
“Well, you better not get distracted this time: my fanny is on the line tonight.”
“Yes, and such a nice one too, no disrespect intended.”
“None taken, voyeur!”
They all laughed, then Nancy resumed her preparations. With the Irvin trousers now up, she buttoned her skirt just under her breasts, so that it would hang down with as few wrinkles as possible, then put on the thick sheepskin leather Irvin jacket. She next took a chair and sat down in order to put on and lace her combat boots: her combat uniform and web gear were already tightly bundled inside her belly pack. Before strapping on the pack, she put on her directional parachute, which had been dyed black by Warrant Culvert the day before. The Lysander pilot had again to help her strap the parachute on her.
“Watch where you put your hands, or Flight Lieutenant Wilson will skin you alive, MisterTurner.”
“A small price to pay for this pleasure, maam.”
Nancy strapped to herself and on top of her belly pack a small oxygen bottle connected to a mask. Her canadian Army kevlar helmet was on next, supplemented by a pair of protective goggles. She finally put a flare signal pistol in one of the Irvin trousers’s pockets, along with spare flare cartridges. Nicholls looked at his watch.
“Lieutenant-commander Stilwell must be about to leave port soon and Captain Townsend must be hitting the ground now: time for you to go, Captain Laplante. May God take care of you all.”
“Thank you, Sir! We’ll get your pilots back.”
Nicholls felt his heart sink as she walked to the Lysander with Turner. He had to remind himself that she was doing no more than many men were doing now. That was however what she wanted and it was time for him to treat her like all the others under his command. Once the Lysander had disappeared into the night, he went to a telephone and got a line to Stanmore, finally getting Air Chief Marshal Dowding on the telephone.
“Sir, Operation Redemption is now running.”
21:41 (GMT)
Area of Gravelines, France
Captain Townsend unclipped his parachute while his men were still landing around him in the large clearing in the woods near Gravelines, an old fortified town between Calais and Dunkirk. Everything had gone well up to now. Quickly and silently, he regrouped his men, seeing with relief that nobody had been hurt on landing. They hid their parachutes before splitting up, with the majority heading for the objective while six men stayed in the clearing. The role of the smaller group was to provide security for what would become an improvised landing strip and, more importantly, to guide Nancy during her freefall by lining up coloured lights skyward and by forming a line pointing towards the prison that was their objective. Townsend left Sergeant Winters in charge of that group and led the assault team at a quick pace towards his target, about one mile away.
Ten minutes later, Townsend stopped and crouched at the limit of the woodline. Between him and the road linking Gravelines and Dunkirk stood a large brick building partially surrounded by a high brick wall, about 200 yards away. He studied the old prison in the little light provided by the moon. It was a three-storey building with a flat roof and a high brick wall surrounding a small courtyard facing the road. He and his men were looking at the rear facade, where he could see a small secondary entrance. That was the door that Nancy was supposed to open for them after gaining access inside via the roof. One of the two corner guard towers of the front wall was visible. He smiled when he saw the red dot of a lit cigarette appear for a moment on top of the visible tower: the guards were relaxed, thus less vigilant. Townsend’s smile suddenly changed to a grimace: another red dot had just appeared on the roof, where there was supposed to be no sentry posts according to yesterday’s air photos. Swearing to himself quietly, he took his binoculars and examined the roof area. There was now a sandbagged position alongside the rear facade parapet, with one German and what looked like a machine gun planted on top of the sandbags. That German had 200 yards of cover-free ground in front of him, which would be more than enough for him to see and shoot anybody attempting to run between the woodline and the prison. Furthermore, Townsend didn’t think it possible to take out that German with a rifle with any degree of certainty in this poor light condition. Worst of all, Nancy was going to land on that roof, expecting it to be deserted. There was no way he could communicate with her at this moment: the mission was nearly doomed to failure now. Townsend felt despair overtake him then.
22:40 (GMT)
Above Gravelines, France
“There are your lights, Nancy.” Said Turner, pointing a finger downward. Nancy looked down and saw with satisfaction three lights in a line: one white, one green and one red. The red light was supposed to be the one closest to the prison. She knew also that, the lights having baffle tubes on them, they would see them only if they were at or near the vertical from them: it was time for her to go. She switched the oxygen supply to her mask from the Lysander feed line to her own small bottle. She then checked that her now silencer-equiped Ruger Mark II .22 caliber target pistol was easily accessible inside her belly pack. She had also adapted to it the laser dot sight originaly attached to her Glock 26 pistol. That combination would give her a stealthy and easily aimed weapon for the first phase of her mission. She then tapped Turner’s shoulder.
“Slow down to your lowest airspeed possible: I’m ready to jump.”
He acknowledged her with a nod, then performed a wide 360 degrees turn, slowing down at the same time he repositionned himself above the beacon lights.
“We are now flying at 60 knots and an altitude of 24,000 feet. Ready?”
“Ready! Pass the word home when I’m gone. Have a good night.”
She slid open the canopy, stood on her seat and stepped into the night sky. Turner closed the canopy, stopping the cold hurricane blowing around the cockpit, and activated his radio.
“Fox one, Fox one, this is Falcon zero. The angel is on its way. I say again, the angel is on its way.”
A long way below, Sergeant Winters stared at the sky, wondering if he would see her glide over them.
She nearly became disoriented at first in the dark sky, but the beacon lights helped her gain back control. Luckily also for her was the fact that the Germans in this area didn’t seem to care about night light curfew, as she could see lights from both inside and outside the prison and from the nearby town of Gravelines. Being an isolated building in a forested area, that made the beacon lights hardly necessary. Checking briefly the altimeter attached to her oxygen pack, Nancy calculated her descent rate and the glide path needed, then positioned her arms and legs in a double rearward V, picking forward speed towards her objective. She was at an altitude of 5,000 feet when she pulled her opening chord. The parachute deployed without a problem. Nancy immediately took off her oxygen mask and her goggles to have a better vision, then roughly aligned her glide path using the beacon lights as a reference line. Her descent should take another ten minutes, she calculated.
22:40 (GMT)
Gravelines prison, France
“Sturmbannfuhrer Boemelburg! Who’s speaking?”
The Gestapo man suddenly took a more rigid position, surprising the Feldgendarmerie men relaxing in the prison’s administrative office.
“Admiral Canaris?! What can I do for you, sir?”
Boemelburg listened for a while, surprise then scepticism appearing on his face.
“Are you certain of your information, Admiral? I would…”
The policeman listened for long minutes before talking again, taking out at one point a pen and a notebook.
“Laplante, is that it?… In Northolt? Wait, we do have a pilot here from Northolt… Yes, I will wait for your man. Good night, Admiral!”
He then put down the receiver with a sardonic smile before facing one of the Feldgendarmerie soldiers.
“You, get me the pilot from Northolt, Durling I believe, and bring him down for interrogation.”
“What about the pilot you were already interrogating?”
“Oh, the other one from Northolt should be more interesting than him. Get him out of the interrogation room and bring him to the doctor at the infirmary.”
The Feldgendarmerie warrant signaled a corporal to follow him and went to obey Boemelburg’s orders. He hated Gestapo men but had strict orders from his commander to obey them, at least in this case. He hoped that the poor bastard who was next would not be too stubborn for his own good.
22:51 (GMT)
Above Gravelines prison, France
Nancy suddenly felt a shock through her body when she saw the incandescant red dot of a lit cigarette on the roof of the prison, still one thousand feet down and 200 feet to her front. Quickly searching in her belly pack, she took out her night vision goggles and hooked them to her Kevlar helmet, using the adapter already fixed to its front. She scanned the roof of the prison with it and saw in the characteristic green glow image of the light intensification device a German soldier with a medium machine gun standing behind a sandbag parapet. He was looking at the woods where Townsend and his men were supposed to wait for her signal. Thinking furiously, she ruled out trying to shoot the guard on landing: she may miss and she would need both of her hands anyway to direct her landing with precision. There was only one thing else she could do. Bracing herself mentally and physically, Nancy hoped that the sentry would not be a sharp one.
Helmut Kolner was glad to have sentry duty outside in the fresh air: it would help him keep awake after the long day he and his comrades just had. Besides, here at least he would not hear the horrible screams coming from the basement. He looked at the quiet scenery in front of him, trying to forget what he had heard and seen by dreaming about his young wife in Breslau.
Warrant Higgins urgently tapped Townsend’s shoulder, then pointed at the sky above the prison.
“There she is, sir, above the roof sentry post.”
His captain looked for an instant, then nodded his head.
“I see her. Now what do we do?”
His voice showed his frustration and despair as he watched the young woman fall in a corkscrew path towards the prison’s roof. Higgins, on his part, watched the path of the parachute with increasing wonder.
“What kind of parachute is she using? I have never seen one able to maneuver like this one before. It also looks square instead of round.”
“To be frank, Warrant, I know very little about her, except that there are some very strange rumors going around about her.”
“Rumors? Like what, sir?”
“I’ll tell you later. Get the men ready to move in case she makes it.”
Helmut suddenly heard a soft noise, like the one a gentle breeze would do. He turned his head to the left and froze in total surprise: a dark mass was coming quickly at him, falling from the sky. He never had time to react before the heavy-duty soles of Nancy’s combat boots smashed his face, sending him sprawling and unconscious on the roof. Nancy landed four feet from the inert German, quickly gathering her parachute in a bundle and unclipping her harness while she kept an eye on the knocked out sentry. She used one of the parapet’s sandbags to hold down the parachute, then took out her silenced pistol and pointed it at the German’s head. She hesitated at first to press the trigger: the man was probably a decent one and was clearly not from the Gestapo. Nancy then thought about what the Germans may be doing right now to British pilots inside the prison and about all the decent men whose lives depended on her now. The noise of her two shots was barely audible. Nancy then walked to the parapet and took out her flashlight.
George Townsend was expecting with dread the noise of the shots which would seal the fate of a very brave young lady. Instead, nothing happened at first. He exchanged a baffled look with Higgins, who suddenly barely held down a yell.
“The signal! She made it, by jove!”
“My god, you’re right! Let’s go, single file at the double!”
Twenty-nine men rushed towards the prison secondary entrance, hoping that the Canadian captain would pull another surprise and unlock the door for them.
Still on the roof, Nancy quickly took off her boots and the thick Irvin thermal suit, then readjusted the skirt of her German uniform and put on the low heel shoes. The wedge cap then replaced her helmet, which went in her pack like her boots. Pistol in one hand, she walked in a low crouch to the front facade. She was now looking down both the guard towers and the sentry post at the front gate, all less than 30 yards distant from her position. Using a ventilation duct as a support, she carefully aimed at the left guard tower, where she could see a German soldier slouched in a chair. A soft plop and the man quietly collapsed inside the tower. She then took out the right tower’s sentry as well, but left the main gate alone: no point in attracting attention too quickly. Dragging her equipment pack by one hand, Nancy opened the skylight giving access to the inside and cautiously went down the steep stairs.
“You say that you don’t know a female officer named Nancy Laplante in Northolt? How unfortunate for you. Hans, another toenail, please.”
The burly man kneeling besides Durling started pulling with his pliers again, sending a searing wave of pain to the brain of the pilot tightly bound naked to a chair. Durling could barely contain his screams of pain.
“A tough one, eh? Tell me, tough guy, did you know that she comes from the future, from the year 2012 to be more exact?”
Boemelburg didn’t believe that fantastic story for a second, but he was a methodical man and wanted to try everything, even if it was a hare-brained idea from the Abwehr. He was thus surprised to see an expression appear on Durling’s face, one that, as an old policeman, he had seen before during interrogations: Durling was reacting as if what he had just said had suddenly explained something misunderstood or mysterious up to now to him. Boemelburg’s throat dried out: if this crazy notion about a time traveler was true, it would explain a lot of things, including how the British had prior knowledge of the raid on London. He had to be sure about this.
“No more games, Mister Durling! Who is really this Nancy Laplante?”
The pilot refused to say a word.
“You will be sorry for that. Hans, the electrodes.”
Nancy left her pack in a small closet near the stairs she had just climbed down, then took with her a small leather briefcase similar to that used by bureaucrats transporting files and dossiers. The briefcase actually contained her weapons and maps with information critical for the rescue. She straightened her hair and uniform before resolutely leaving the closet and walking with assurance towards the main staircase, looking every bit like a Luftwaffe female oberhelferin bringing in requested files about the RAF. She was holding the briefcase with both hands against her chest, which allowed her to hold discreetly her silenced pistol behind her briefcase. The top floor was used for prisoners facilities like restrooms, showers and kitchen, and was deserted at this hour. Going down the staircase, she saw that the second floor was used as a cellblock. She was stopped there by a German soldier guarding the door giving access to the cells.
“HALT! Who are you?”
His tone was more curious than agressive: here was a tall and pretty German woman showing up during a boring shift. Nancy answered back in fluent German.
“I’m from Jagdfliegerfuhrer 2 headquarters in Wissant and I am bringing intelligence files on the RAF to help the work of the Gestapo officer. Where could I find him? I seem to have been misdirected by the idiot at the entrance.”
The soldier lowered his MP-38 submachinegun, a grin on his face.
“That would be typical of Friedrich. The Gestapo man is in the basement, to the left of the staircase. Just follow the screams.”
As if on cue, a muffled scream echoed inside the building, making Nancy pale. The German laughed, taking her reaction for squeamishness. His laugh stopped abruptly with a bullet in the throat and another in the forehead. She quickly caught his weapon so that it would not clatter loudly on the concrete floor, then put it in a corner of the staircase, along with the dead German, while being careful not to stain her German uniform with his blood. Nancy then resumed her trip down the stairs.
The ground floor was used for administrative facilities and guards’ accomodations and was fairly quiet, with only a muffled conversation in German audible at one end of the corridor. Nancy saw with immense relief that the rear entrance door was just down a short corridor from the foot of the stairs. She had to control herself in order not to run to it. Just before the door, she noticed a large cloakroom wich would be ideal to temporarily hide Townsend’s men. Luckily, there was no lock on the rear door and she had only to pull two bolts. A darkened face appeared when she quietly opened the thick wood and steel door.
“Everything is okay?” Whispered Townsend.
“Yes, get your men in the cloackroom to the right, quickly!”
“Why not charge in now?”
“Because they are interrogating someone now and may kill him when they hear gunfire. I must go first and get that one quietly. Now, move in the cloakroom. Charge in if you hear gunshots.”
Townsend didn’t argue further and led his men in the cloakroom while Nancy took the stairs leading to the basement. A horrible scream greeted her downstairs, along with two Germans, to whom she repeated her story about bringing in files. One of the guards stayed with her as the other went into a room nearby. The soldier came back in an instant and signaled her to come in. Bracing herself, she entered a large room, empty except for a table and a few chairs. Two Germans were surrounding a naked man tied to a chair in the middle of the room. The older man showed her the table.
“Welcome, fraulein! Please put your papers there and leave us.”
They didn’t pay any more attention to her as she walked past them towards the table. The sobbing from the prisoner broke her heart, but also reinforced her resolve. Taking her silenced pistol out discreetly, she pulled a stack of blank files out of her briefcase and put them on the table, then turned towards the interrogators. The two of them had their back to her, but turned their heads when the prisoner raised his head and stared past them.
“Nancy?”
“What the…” Said one of the Germans, looking with disbelief at Nancy.
The older German got it first between the eyes, then the big one. Nancy next walked quickly to the door and shot both guards before they could react. She took the time to put a fresh magazine in her pistol before kneeling besides Durling. Tears came to her eyes when she saw the pitiful state he was in.
“My god, how can anybody do this to others?”
“So… sorry I’m not … decent, Nancy. Glad you’re here… though.”
“Wait, I’m going to untie you.”
It took her a minute to undo the rope tying his hands to the chair: it had left bloody marks on his wrists. She then cautiously disconnected the electrodes attached to his genitals, trying to ignore his spasms of pain as she removed the wires. When she tried to help him to his feet, his face suddenly reflected agony and he fell back heavily on the chair.
“My feet…can’t walk.”
Nancy looked at his feet and was horrified by what she saw.
“The bastards! I will get some help. Take this and stay put.”
She handed him the pistol that had belonged to the senior interrogator, which he took firmly in his hand, then walked out towards the stairs. She did not meet other Germans on her way to the cloakroom, where she explained Durling’s problem to Townsend. The commando officer then turned towards a group of his men.
“Warrant Higgins, take two men and go provide security to that pilot while we clean up the building.”
“Announce yourselves first, Warrant: I gave him a pistol from one of the Germans.”
“Glad you warned me of that, miss.”
“You can call me Captain instead of miss, Warrant.” Replied Nancy, a bit miffed. Higgins nodded, then left quietly for the basement, two other commandos in tow. Nancy then faced Townsend.
“Give me another five minutes before starting the assault. I want to find and secure the infirmary first: some aircrews are probably held there. The cells are on the second floor. I shot the guard there. I saw nobody on the third floor.”
“Christ! You didn’t leave much for me to do.”
“We’re not out of this yet, George. Both guards in the towers are dead, but the main gate sentries are still in place. See you in a moment!”
Nancy hesitated a bit at the junction of the hallway, then decided to head towards where she had heard conversations previously. She was still holding her briefcase, her pistol hidden by the briefcase. She was nearly at the end of the hallway when she saw with relief a door with a red cross sign on it. She was about to enter the infirmary when a German shouted at her from behind.
“Hey! Who are you?”
She turned around and saw a warrant of the Feldgendarmerie standing in a doorway, ten feet from her. He was looking suspiciously at her, with a hand near the holster at his belt.
“I’m from the Luftwaffe headquarters in Wissant and I just dropped off some intelligence files requested by the Gestapo officer. He asked me to go to the infirmary and sit besides the prisoners there in case they talked while sedated: I happen to understand English.”
The German warrant raised an eyebrow, hesitated, then nodded towards the infirmary.
“Alright, you may go in, fraulein.”
Secretly relieved, Nancy turned around and put her hand on the doorknob. That was when the German took out his luger pistol and shot her once between her shoulder blades.
The warrant felt immediately that something was wrong here: no self-respecting female senior auxiliary of the Luftwaffe would let one of her girls go around with such a ridiculously short skirt. The young woman then made two mistakes: first, there was only one prisoner in the infirmary, not many; Second, the Gestapo man had expressly forbiden the doctor to use pain killers or sedatives, so that the prisoners would be in constant pain, thus lowering their resistance threshold. His 9mm bullet slammed the woman against the door of the infirmary. She bounced on it, turning towards him at the same time, pain reflecting on her pretty face. She dropped her leather briefcase, revealing a silencer-equiped pistol in her right hand. ‘I knew it!’ he thought to himself, then shot her once again, this time between her breasts. Incredibly, she did not fall immediately and started to raise her pistol at him. Feeling sudden panic, he put three more bullets in her chest before her pistol sputtered, sending him into eternal darkness. His last sight was that of a strange bright red point of light under the muzzle of her gun.
Townsend jumped to his feet when he heard the first gunshot and waved to his men, yelling.
“LET`S GO! CLEAN THIS PLACE!”
He turned the corner of the hallway in time to see with horror a German shoot three bullets in Nancy’s chest before being shot dead by her. She then slid to the floor, her back against a door.
“NOOO! NANCY!”
The door she was leaning against suddenly opened, making her upper body fall with a thud inside the doorway. Enraged like he had rarely been before, the commando cut down with a submachine gun burst the German soldier who then emerged from the infirmary. Townsend burst in the room, ready to shoot any German inside. He found only one prisoner, his face a mass of bruises, being attended by a doctor and a nurse. The doctor and nurse were German but were not armed and were cowering besides the prisoner’s bed. He decided to spare them as long as they behaved.
“You and you! Get her in here and do whatever it takes to save her.”
The German doctor, wearing a white blouse over a Luftwaffe uniform, obviously understood English, as he immediately dragged Nancy inside with the help of his nurse. Townsend picked up the pistol that had fallen from her hand and slid it in one of his uniform’s pockets. The doctor suddenly looked at him while crouching besides Nancy, astonishment in both his eyes and voice.
“There is no blood! She doesn’t seem to be really hurt.”
“WHAT! That’s impossible: I saw her get shot at least three times in the chest.”
“Look for yourself then.”
He did just that. The doctor was right: there were four bullet holes in her vest, around the heart area. Such wounds would immediately spill an awful amount of blood, as he knew from experience. There was however no blood at all visible. He and the doctor exchanged a baffled look that was cut by Nancy’s weak voice.
“Can you guys help me sit up, while you are here?”
Helping her to a sitting position, they looked at her as thought she was a ghost, which seemed to amuse her.
“But, how…” Said Townsend, flabbergasted.
“I’m wearing body armor. Please help me remove this vest and shirt.”
The doctor and nurse did that, watched by Townsend, who was also listening to the noises of the battle. It was already winding down, which was a good sign for him. Once the shirt was off, it revealed a sort of thick, tight-fitting vest made of a front and a back panel, with extentions covering her ribs area. There were four distinct imprints in the front panel and one in the back one. N