Page 39 of Tides of Resistance
Lizzie followed Charles on the same bicycle she had ridden to visit Fabian, her basket now stacked to the top with surveying equipment. They approached the Porte St. Vincent, and Lizzie saw that today a German sentry, who was checking people’s papers, manned the gate.
Dots of panic spread over her skin, and she told herself to be calm. Her papers had been checked on other missions, but the first time was always the scariest because only then would she know for sure if the fresh papers forged by the SOE would pass muster.
Lizzie dismounted and watched the soldier examine her uncle’s papers, then quickly wave him through. Next, he indicated for Lizzie to pass him hers.
She waited, her breath catching in her throat whilst she attempted to look at ease, as though she weren’t a British spy right under the enemy’s nose. He screwed up his forehead and held the papers to the light as if checking them for authenticity.
Lizzie prayed, her heart almost banging its way out of her chest.
The soldier shuffled the documents before looking at Lizzie with a hard stare. ‘What brings you to St. Malo from Paris at this time?’
Lizzie replied she was visiting friends and that Monsieur Beaumont, the surveyor, needed her help for an important project commissioned by the Civil Administration.
The soldier looked at her again, appraising her from head to toe, his rifle slung over his grey-green shoulder.
Anger gripped Lizzie, and she fought to control her fierce reaction. The nerve of the Germans, acting as though they owned the city, and no one could go anywhere without their permission. It infuriated her, and her stomach swirled in a sickly fashion.
The soldier passed the papers back to her with a warning. ‘The latest rule regarding visiting non-residents of St. Malo is that you must report to theKommandanturwithin two weeks of your arrival. Make sure you do, Mademoiselle Rousseau, or you will face the consequences.’
Lizzie said she would, a bitter taste in her mouth, as he moved for her to pass under the arch. When she finally emerged on the other side of the wall, Charles waited, and a look of profound relief crossed his face.
‘Thank God,’ he muttered as they mounted their bicycles. ‘What took so long?’
When Lizzie explained, Charles said he’d heard the Boche were tightening their surveillance on newcomers. ‘There have been more targeted attacks on the regime,’ he whispered.
The soldier’s warning hung over them like a black cloud as they cycled across the causeway to St. Servan and towards Cité d'Aleth. Lizzie now had a ticking clock on her mission, and with every day the danger increased.
The breeze brought colour to her pale cheeks as she cycled. She still couldn’t quite believe how things had unfolded with her uncle, but she was ready to grasp the opportunity.
Jack had drilled into her that the nature of opportunity was that it appeared out of nowhere and agents must be ready to seize it with both hands.
After crossing several narrow bridges, Charles signalled they had reached a suitable spot to commence the work, and he dismounted from his bike. Between them, they unloaded the theodolites, measuring chains and camera equipment and placed them on the surface of a large smooth rock. ‘We will use this as our base,’ he said. ‘There doesn’t appear to be anyone around, so that’s good.’
Lizzie looked out to sea. They stood on the rocky peninsula, located across the Rance River estuary, jutting into the sparkling water and overlooking Saint-Malo's port and harbour. Her gaze took in the panoramic views of the walled city across the water from this vantage point. Now she understood why the SOE had instructed her to get to this spot for the best view.
Charles pointed to the ruined walls. ‘This is what remains of the medieval Fort d’Aleth and the ancient settlement, which was once the Gallo-Roman port town, older than Saint-Malo. You may see why it has been a key military location for hundreds of years.’
Lizzie asked questions about what he needed to do and how she could help him. She could see the rocky coastline was ideal as a deterrent against invasion, but she had to know what the Germans planned to do to fortify it.
Charles explained the possibilities to her as simply as he could, but it was difficult to follow some of his professional nuances. Like many experts, he didn’t realise that he spoke in another language, hard for laypeople to understand.
They set up the photographic equipment, which was impressive in size and scope, and Charles showed Lizzie how to use it. Whilst he worked on his assessment, making notes, she photographed whatever he told her to.
In between doing as instructed, when Charles turned his back, engrossed in his study, she slipped her mini camera out of the lining of her coat and snapped reconnaissance shots of the area. Whilst she could ask for copies of the professional photos, it would be safer to smuggle out the hidden camera than her uncle’s printed images. The SOE camera was designed for spy work, whereas the professional survey camera equipment was bulky.
To Lizzie’s excitement, she realised that Charles’s camera had special capabilities, and she could see details of distant objects with amazing focus and clarity. It was like having a telescope that showed her which specific positions to capture.
She photographed gun emplacements across the harbour, guard positions, potential landing points, and construction sites. There was so much valuable information, she was overwhelmedtrying to complete the task. Charles called over to her to hurry because he needed her to reposition the equipment.
‘Just measuring the angles like you showed me,’ she called, stalling for time.
Another surveyor had arrived and was setting up his equipment nearby, and she caught on to Charles’s effort to put on a realistic show. That was the end of using her mini camera, as it would create immediate suspicion.
Lizzie’s considerable experience undercover told her that trusting anyone you weren’t sure of was a dangerous mistake. The surveyor could be friend or foe, equally likely to be a willing collaborator to get all the work he needed from the Germans, or he might be as opposed to them as her uncle. One thing she knew for certain—this wasn’t the time to test him.
She spoke to him, saying it was a fine day, and he was polite but kept himself to himself as he worked.
Two soldiers patrolled the area, and after some time, one approached Lizzie and stood watching over her shoulder as she worked. She could hear him breathing as he studied what she was doing.
