Transition Plan Chapter 139 - The Battle of Greystoke Part 4

In addition to training indoors in the 10 Downing Street replica in the burlesque hall ruins, the combined team trained for weeks in the jungle outside Dar es Salaam. They became a very well-coordinated unit, respecting each other's strengths. The team became very confident they could accomplish the main focus of the operation yet get the revenge that Yetty desired. They sparred against each other and against makeshift 'scarecrow' dummies to perfect their stealthy attacks.

Finally it was time to depart. The Battle of Britain and its aerial fury had commenced nearly two months before in early July. It was not going well for the Germans. The Abwehr team leader called everyone on the phone and told them it was time to leave.

…

In her uptown flat, Yetty started packing her things. Her mother knew the routine.

Margrite asked with great concern, "Where are you going this time, honey?"

Yetty dodged the answer, "I can't tell you Mom. You know that. So you don't get mixed up in this. Especially this time. I don't want the British to arrest you or think you are implicated in this."

"Please stay home. Let the men do the job this time. Someday you'll get really hurt."

"I have to leave, Mom. They can't do it without me."

The girl was resolute, and Margrite knew she couldn't persuade her otherwise, so she simply asked, "For how long this time?"

"I… I don't know. It will be really far away."

"No, please don't say that, Yetty. Why do you keep doing this? Will you ever come back? You're the only thing I have left. I know you are doing really dangerous things."

"Yes, Mother I will be back. No one can ever defeat me."

Margrite was nearly in tears. "I don't know why you insisted on a life of violence like your father. I never taught you that. I taught you to avoid that kind of life at all costs, because it hurt us so terribly. We have it nice here. Please don't get killed. Why are you doing this?"

Yetty stated firmly, "I'm going because I love Bernhardt. I have to be where he is, and do what he does. No matter what."

Margrite warned, "I don't think he's good for you. I objected from the start, but you kept seeing him. He's never asked to marry you. He just takes advantage of you like your father did me for so long and he takes too many chances with your safety. And he's not providing for you the way he should. Believe me I know that. And I hate that he's sleeping with you… so young, dear."

"That's not true Mother. He loves me. And I'm an adult now. I don't need your approval to be with him anymore."

In dismay, Margrite complained, "'Like you ever listened to my warnings before. He took you when you were the same age I was when… your father… chose me."

Yetty scoffed, "Like mother like daughter. Besides it feels good, especially with him."

"Until you get pregnant," Margrite warned.

"Mother, let's not fight again before I leave. Bernhardt takes care of my every need. And I know he wants to marry me. Even Daddy married you eventually. He loved you - married or not. It's just not the right time for us yet. I have to go, Mother. This time I have a chance to settle things for us. I get to give you peace. Finally."

"What do you mean?" Margrite fretted.

"The people who hurt you and Daddy the most. I can fix it. I'm going to Scotland to eliminate them."

It dawned on Margrite what was happening, and she was utterly alarmed, "No! You can't do that. Meriem is your sister. You can't take the love of her life away. You'll crush her. She spent 8 years waiting for him, after your Dad and I took her away and forced her to live a terrible life. Yes, her husband killed your father. I hate to say this, but your father deserved it with all the terrible things he did to her. I blame myself forever not to let her escape back to her life. Your Daddy would be still alive. She became my first daughter, dear. But she made things right for us. She gave us lots of money. You never have hurt for anything since. You're betraying her kindness. You should have stayed in school and been a good German citizen here. Not become what I was. What he was."

Yetty's eyes narrowed, "Mom. You have to stop blaming yourself for what Dad did or didn't do. What's so terrible about this life? I love the life I'm living. It's exciting. Money will never replace a father's love I never knew. And if she was really being kind, sister Meriem would have stopped her boyfriend from killing Daddy, left Jack, and stayed with us. She left you alone and isolated – and paid off - to force you to have me alone and raise me with no help."

"But Yetty, dear, they visited us and we went to their home. Meriem gave us a million dollars, honey. We've had a nice quiet life. Why this hatred?"

"Those visits were only vacations. They did that to so they could feel good about 'helping'. There was no substance to what they did. No lasting relations. Did they ever once invite us to join the family over all these years?"

"Well, she did years ago before I had you, but I turned her down. I was an accomplice to her kidnapping, Yetty, by your Daddy and his friend. It was a horrible crime. What cant you understand about that?"

Yetty stood and said in serious candor, "Because they brutally murdered Daddy. The animals that man can control ate him, Mother. Which is a far worse crime."

There was no argument there. Not once did Yetty see this from the point of view of a kidnap victim, but only as a deeply wronged fatherless girl who worshipped the father she never knew, enough to adopt his lifestyle of crime and murders herself and follow in his footsteps.

"But honey. You're a criminal. I never wanted that for you."

Yetty didn't accept that, "Aren't Jack and Jeanne criminals too? You and Daddy are only guilty of kidnapping. They've gone unpunished for murder all these years. Only you and I know the real story. How was her life any less being a fugitive than mine? I loved you and Daddy. Why didn't Meriem love Daddy? Sure, Daddy kidnapped her, but showed her an amazing new life and tried to show her that over eight years. She lived with you all that time and hated every minute of it. She rejected everything. Not once did she want to be like us. I like who I am. I like us. I like how you raised me. I'm proud of my father and everything he did against all the English authorities who rob us Germans every day of our liberty. He outfoxed the stupid British nearly every day of his life right under their noses and all the time under their thumb, and yet he stayed alive to take care of you so I could be. So I hate my sister too."

Margrite couldn't argue, "I… I don't know honey. She wanted what she had been taken from, dear, by your father. People always want different things in their lives. He kidnapped her dear. He was going to sell her into slavery. That was very wrong."

"I don't care. Murder is worse. If Meriem let Jack kill Dad, she's no sister of mine and no daughter of yours. All she did is throw money at you. What good has it done us?"

After a very long silence, Margrite swallowed hard and asked, "Are you going to kill her too, honey?"

"I… I don't know, Mom. If she gets in the way, I don't know what I'll do."

Margrite wanted to scream out 'no', but something in her prevented her. This was her flesh and blood before her in anger and retribution. Maybe she was right about Meriem.

"It's time Mother. The plane is coming for us."

"Just come back to me, OK?"

"OK, I love you, Yetty."

"'Love you too, Mom."

The two women hugged and kissed, and she departed.

Behind the closed door of the flat, Margrite burst into tears.

Margrite cried to herself, "She's just like Karl-Heinz. I can't control her any more than I could him. Oh dear God, why am I so weak around everyone I love?"

…

The two teams rendezvoused south of Dar es Salaam, and quietly made their way through the jungle for several days. They approached a clearing, but camped in hiding within the forestation. The clearing was in fact an abandoned airfield in the midst of the jungle dating back to the Great War, far from the main airport serving Dar es Salaam.

They'd only been there a day until they heard a din of motors from far off in the distance that got increasingly louder, and saw the outline of a slow-moving transport appear over the jungle canopy. The aircraft made a soft, tentative landing on the bumpy grass and dirt airstrip. It was a civilian-marked Junkers 52 trimotor transport. The team appeared out of the thicket, and hurried to board the aircraft with their gear while it idled. The big plane finished a quick refueling from fuel barrels hidden in the bushes, taxied, turned, and with a lumbering roar, staggered into the heavy, humid air. The airstrip was deserted once again, and the frightened herd of Okapi that normally grazed there once again crept on to the grounds to enjoy munching on their favorite stand of grass.

…

After several days journey across nations subjugated to or friendly with Germany, stopping along the way for rest and fuel, the Junkers touched down in Germany on the Baltic coast at a very busy military aerodrome, crowded with bombers and fighters, and other transports. The team took a nondescript bus to the harbor, but it was unlike any harbor they'd ever seen. They entered the heavily guarded naval base protected by miles of barbed wire and guard shacks. Most every berth was armored in concrete and flak towers were more prolific than the trees lining the buildings and sidewalks and streets of the sprawling naval base. The ships could barely be seen in the protective, and were long, dark, and only the conning towers were above the water line with their deadly twin deck guns. The air over the sub pens at smelled burnt and oily, and mechanical sounds of cranes, engines, and construction equipment filled the air. The team arrived at the U boat who would take them to their destination.

"This one is yours, people. Good luck," the bus driver said.

They crawled down the hatch of the U boat. It smelled worse inside the submersible than outside, with the mix of human sweat and other odors that assaulted their senses.

Bernhardt complained, "Damn, is this small."

It was hot inside the U boat, despite fans running. The gangway through the center of the U boat was cluttered with equipment, knobs, and levers.

"It's not so bad," Yetty teased, seeing the worry on her boyfriends face.

"Like hell…"

They entered the specially converted crew area, carved out by removing all but one tube of the torpedo room. This lightly defended U boat was optimized for infiltration of special operations forces was going to have to rely on speed and stealth and the cover of the battle above them in the skies of the Channel to prevent being engaged by the Royal Navy.

Soon everyone and their light load of equipment was stowed aboard the boat.

"Welcome aboard," the Kapitan said. He was grimy and sweaty, but used to the conditions. He could see the Abwehr team's instant discomfort and some of the men looked downright claustrophobic, "Sorry, she's not a luxury liner, but she's home to us and will be for you for the next few weeks."

"No offense, sir, I can't wait to get out of this place already," complained one of the younger Abwehr soldiers.

The Kapitan instructed, "You might as well just try to make it like home. And stay out of the way. Don't touch anything either. My crew knows how to run this ship. You're just passengers on this special luxury liner. Our job is to get you where you need to go. Your job starts when you leave us.

Helmut counted, "There's not enough bunks on this luxury liner for my team."

"Two of you will just have to share," noted the Kapitan, a little annoyed at the Oberstleutnant.

Yetty and Bernhardt exchanged pleased looks, "We volunteer."

"No surprise there," muttered one of their colleagues.

They did share the bunk, and gave it an exhausting workout. In the cramped interior of the UBoat bunks, despite the constant hum of equipment and the diesel engines, their sex was loud and rough.

The Kapitan asked Helmut, "Do they do this all the time?"

"All the time, except when they're fighting. Then they're rougher," he grinned.

"With each other or the enemy?"

"Yes" quipped the Abwehr leader.

The Kapitan gave Helmut a look of disbelief, wondering what kind of strange military team he was transporting into Scotland.

Helmut sat on his bunk, and watched the two lovebirds go at each other. Like everything else, it seemed like the couple was bent on living a wild path of self destructive behavior. The commander had seen it all. Heavy drinking. Cursing. Fighting with each other like they would draw blood to settle things. But they seemed to love each other no matter what. And sometimes it seemed they quarreled and fought just for the sport of it. Their unbridled, wild sex was like nothing he'd ever seen between regular couples, almost like the animals themselves they lived among. Commander felt sorry for them, and wondered what had happened in their lives to create this desperate mostly violent bond they had with one another. He actually worried about the success of the op and worried when their behavior might become reckless enough so that it jeopardized him and his men. There was a fine line between dedication to cause and being hell bent on mutual suicide.

…

Bernhardt was holding Yetty in front of him in a standing spooned embrace on the top of the U boat's conning tower, with his arms around her. They were enjoying a rare breath of fresh air and cooler temperatures. In the far distance to the west they could see the anti-aircraft flack clouds rising up from the English coast and flames of destruction of many aircraft falling from the otherwise tranquil skies. From this far away they couldn't tell friend from foe. They mostly just grimly watched the flaming trails of aircraft crashing into the coldness of the Channel, even at the height of summer. There were precious few parachutes.

The first officer came up the ladder, tapped them on the shoulder, and asked, "We have to go below now. It's time for silent running."

Yetty and Bernhardt broke their clutch, and absentmindedly answered and headed belowdecks, "Oh... OK."

The sailor on deck pulled the hatch shut with a clang, and wheeled it sealed shut. It sounded like a prison cell door. The sounds of escaping air and influx of water were disconcerting, even though they knew that the U boat was designed for underwater travel. They knew that the valves that controlled that sometimes jammed.

As they ran silent and submerged under the aerial battlefield, the sounds of destroyed planes splashing into the water and some exploding on impact was disconcerting and they all worried one would crash right on top of the U boat, sending all of them to the bottom in a tragic dance of aviators and sailors with death.

…

Climbing vertically at 20,000 feet altitude at over 300 mph, clawing the sky in another gut-wrenching turn, after having sent another Messerschmidt Bf110 long range escort fighter into the Channel, Squadron Leader Jack Clayton stood on the rudder of his Spitfire and veered around, looking over his shoulder. He'd just heard the call from the familiar voice of the radar operator overlooking the coast for more 'bandits'. He knew that voice. It was Paul on the radio, working with the radar sites on the coast line scanning for the invading Luftwaffe because of his injuries. Both knew those sites were targets.

Jack acknowledged his brother formally, "Roger, Control."

"Happy hunting Squadron Leader. Out."

Jack clicked his microphone to his wingmen, "All right, boys. We have three Ju 88's flying unprotected at 15000. Let's go get them before they drop their bombs."

"Roger, Lead."

The combat proven squadron made short work of the bombers as they fell into the English Channel with no visible parachutes. Word from the few Luftwaffe survivors was to go down with the plane. Shivering to death in the cold waters was a far worse death than to let the impact kill them instantly. No British rescue ship would be bravely in the waters to pick them up as they did the RAF pilots who shot down.

Jack's wingman shouted after the mêlée, "That makes you a double ace sir!"

"Thanks gentlemen. All for Mother England, as they say."

"What do they call you in Nigeria, sir?"

Jack stated simply, "Korak. It means 'The Killer'."

"That you are, sir," complimented one wingman.

"A naturally born one, too, sir," noted another, who knew more of Jack's story than the others.

The Spits banked in formation and headed for the aerodrome to refuel and be queued for the next wave. Their replacement squadron for the next combat air patrol was headed inbound.

The Officers' Club celebration for Jack's latest wartime distinction was be fun, to celebrate Jack's and two other pilots' celebration as first time aces, and he hoped before he racked out in his bunk to connect with his sweet wife to let her know emotionally. Jeanne would know what his elation meant, and she'd be proud as she was the first time he became an ace. Maybe they'd get lucky and have a true telepathic connection.

That already happened once when he was forced to bail out of a shot-up Spit and had to bob helplessly in the Channel for nearly two hours, avoiding the particularly vindictive German who shot him down and then tried to strafe him in the water before being sent to a fiery spin and explosion by Royal Navy destroyer anti aircraft guns as the ship raced to rescue him. Thank goodness for the new exposure suits from the Americans that he didn't succumb to the icy waters.

…

Off the eastern shore Isle of Man on the far western coast of Scotland in the dark of the night, a long, slim steel gray vessel ran low in the water, its conning tower the only thing really visible. A lookout shouted below.

"I think this is our turn, sir. Barrow in Furness."

The U boat got as far up into the inlet as it could and stopped. The Abwehr team embarked into their black rubber inflatable rafts and paddled to shore. It was starting to get light.

A huge owl circled overhead but soon moved off. The magnificence of the predatory bird momentarily caught Yetty's eye, and the others looked up as well.

She reflected, "We have a lot in common with that owl. Both of us are searching for unsuspecting prey in the dark."

"Wax eloquently after we're done hunting our prey, babe," huffed her boyfriend.

...

Author's Notes: Just to let fans of my Tarzan story, if you hadn't already guessed, the story is on hiatus until I get my Zootopia story completed, which might be some time, as I'm having a great deal of fun writing it. You all know I can't write more than one story at a time. Sorry to keep you hanging.