Just before dawn I rose stiffly from the ground and rubbed my arms and legs to get the circulation going. It was bitterly cold and our wet clothes hung miserably round us. Giselle was still curled up on our coats fast asleep. She was wet and muddy and altogether very different from the exquisitely turned-out French girl of the previous evening. I touched her lightly on the arm and she opened her eyes, looked round for a puzzled moment and then smiled at me. Her smile was the same anyway.
“Oh, Peter,” she said, “I dreamed I was at home in my own room and the rain was coming in at the window. How silly! Still it was very nice and thank you for your coat.”
We shared a bar of chocolate which Carnac produced and then he sat off to reconnoitre the road. It was just starting to get light and in the wood there was a deep, profound silence.
He was soon back. “It's no good on that side,” he said. “I crawled to the edge of the trees and lay there for a bit watching the road. At first I couldn't see anything but after a few minutes I saw a man move and start to walk slowly down the road, and then I spotted a few more. They're all along the road now, and as soon as they find the car they'll probably start to beat the wood from this side. I think we must get moving.”
We set off through the trees, moving with the utmost caution in case we met any patrols and after a little while the trees thinned out and I saw open country ahead.
Carnac was leading. He turned round and whispered, “You stay here. I'll go and see what's ahead.”
We settled ourselves down in the undergrowth and waited. After about ten minutes he wriggled back silently along the ground. I could see from the expression on his face that he'd got an idea.
“You won't guess where we've wandered to,” he said. “This wood is on the corner of an aerodrome and there are some aircraft at the other end. What do you think? Is there a chance?”
“What type are they?” I said quickly.
“I can't be sure. They were single-engined aircraft, all of them. Go and look, Peter, but be very careful. There are probably some sentries about.”
I crawled off towards the edge of the wood, raised my head very cautiously in the long grass and peered round.
It was an aerodrome all right (I identified it later from photographs and the wood was easily recognisable; it was Laon Athies).
Dispersed some distance away by the hangars were perhaps twenty Messerschmidt 109s, their mottled camouflage and characteristic tails showing very clear in the growing light.
The sight gave me a faint hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, we might be able to pull something off. And then, of course, I saw the snag. The Me. 109 is a single seater and a very small one at that. It might be possible to fit Giselle in the cockpit and fly the aircraft sitting on her knee (an enterprising R.A.F. type once got into trouble for flying his girlfriend in a Hurricane in this manner), but to take Carnac as well was out of the question. On the other hand it seemed the only chance of saving Giselle.
I looked carefully for anything larger. There was a twin-engined type by the hangar, either a Heinkel or a Ju. 88, but it wouldn't be possible to grab that one; men were already moving about near it. For that matter I didn't see either how we could get hold of a Messerschmidt. Any civilian who approached would be nabbed at once and even if I were in the cockpit I couldn't be sure of starting the confounded thing. Modern aircraft are somewhat complicated affairs with their fuel systems, fuel cocks and priming pumps and while no doubt I could puzzle it out in time this would have to be done very quickly and without a single slip. It was no good. We should have to find some other way.
That was the problem—having to start up. Once the engine was going I could manage reasonably well. Suppose we waited till they've run up the engine and then try to take it in a rush? No good, I said immediately; there would be a fitter in the cockpit and several more round the aircraft and chocks under the wheels…. N.B.G.
And then I had an idea. It was just a chance, but it was the only one. I glanced up at the sky. It all depended on the wind. There wasn't a breath at the moment. I licked my finger and stuck it up. No wind at all. Well, there might be later on.
I crawled back into the wood. “They're Me. 109s,” I said “Not much good because they're single seaters and it's going to be awfully difficult to pinch one anyway, because I don't guarantee to start it. They're very different from out fighters.”
There was a pause. I believe we were all thinking the same; that this was the last chance.
Then Carnac said quietly. “Just suppose you could start it, you could fly it, I suppose?”
I nodded.
“And could you fit Giselle in?”
“I think so. It's been done before. I'd have to sit on her knee. But what about you? I'm damned well not leaving you here to face the music.”
“No,” said Giselle emphatically, “I'm not either.”
“You’re not doing anything of the sort. One man has far more chance than three and by myself I think I can get away. You see, I have one great advantage—I'm a Frenchman, and I can just fade away and become part of the countryside. Believe me, man cher Peter, your risk in going would be just as great as mine in staying here and if we don't do this, what then? Wait helplessly till the search party arrives? I see no other way.”
“Very well,” I said. “If you look at it that way it suits me though I still don't like it. Now about the details. I think our only way is to get hold of a machine as its taxiing out for take-off. With luck there'll be nobody to deal with except the pilot and if we could wave him to stop and then drag him out of the cockpit, Giselle and I could jump in and take off. But it all depends on the wind. If they taxi up to this end to take off it's O.K., but otherwise it seems hopeless. The wood only covers this end of the aerodrome and we can't come into the open till the last minute. Does it sound possible?”
Carnac laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “It sounds mad, but I believe you're right. It's the only way.”