Topaz - Leon Uris [93]
“Good,” Granville said. “Now, as you know, the Berry Canal runs parallel to the Cher River. The area in between is where the Germans have their border patrols. If we can observe the German patrols from one of the farmhouses and establish some kind of pattern, then we can slip the Jews over the river into Vichy France.”
The idea was both fascinating and frightening to young André. He felt deep guilt because, unlike Robert who was a year older, he had not fought against the Germans.
“I will help,” he said, “if you will agree not to tell my father.”
Flamboyant Jacques Granville flashed a broad smile. Bland Robert Proust merely nodded.
“Welcome, comrade,” Jacques said, and the three of them shook hands.
2
THE CHER WAS A lazy river with a slow, untroubled movement. In many sectors, centuries of sand had built up a network of shallow bars and submerged islets.
André and his friend Robert Proust had swum the river and fished and boated on it from earliest memory. It was a simple matter for them to know at what places one could wade all the way across.
Telling his father that he had found a girl friend in Blois, André set up an excuse to spend several nights a week studying the movement of the German patrols between the Berry Canal and the river. The Germans were unbelievably methodical. One could set a clock by their appearance.
In Blois, Jacques Granville acquired a half-dozen bicycles, which he hid in a barn. With the pattern of the German patrols established, André alternated with Jacques and Robert in coming to the barn, where five Jews from Blois awaited nightly. They cycled fourteen kilometers to the crossing place and were led over to Vichy France. A horse-drawn wagon picked up the bicycles and returned them to the barn.
Some nights all three of them worked along with other members of the ring from Blois, and two or three trips were made across the river. The operation became so successful that another ten bicycles were acquired.
In the six months that followed, nearly three thousand Jews and other illegals wanted by the Nazis were spirited over the Cher from Occupied France to Vichy France.
“André,” his father fumed. “What is this monkey business? You are with that girl in Blois all night and you sleep all day. Either marry her or find a woman closer to home.”
André yawned his apology.
When he became too worn out to do his job properly, he broke down and confided in his father, who approved of the activity with a great deal of pride. From then on, André worked with the people in Blois on a full-time basis. It was the true beginning of his intelligence career.
One night he showed up at the barn and there were no Jews. Robert Proust and Jacques Granville came in shortly after, frightened and excited.
“I received a warning,” Jacques blurted, “that the Germans have been watching us for the last couple of days.”
“Oh, God!”
“I’m sure they’re waiting to learn our system and find all the underground stations before they close in. It will give us a chance to get away.”
“Run?”
“Yes,” Robert said shakily. “We must flee now. Everyone in Blois has scattered. I’ve packed some things for you.”
“Papal I have to tell him good-bye.”
Jacques gripped him and shook his head, No.
“I must.”
“It could implicate your father if you see him now. We’ll get a message to him when we can.”
“Who informed on us?”
“Frenchmen,” Jacques Granville spat. “Frenchmen trying to kiss the asses of the Germans. And it’s the French police looking for us along with the Germans.”
“The sons of bitches ...”
“Come on, André, let’s get going.”
That night they fled to Tours and were hidden in an attic which had been a station in the underground. By morning they learned that they, and the rest of the Blois ring, were the objects of a massive manhunt.
Each night they shifted to a new hiding place in Tours, awaiting help from the underground. After a week, a grizzled old man who was called Duval visited them.
“We’ve got you cleared as far as Bordeaux. The organization there will give you papers and certificates stating that you have