Doctor Who_ Autumn Mist Part 4

When they met up again. they met up again.

Wiesniewski kept his head down as the Doctor weaved the jeep through the hail of bullets. His head was throbbing as it was, each pulse draining a little more of his consciousness. 'We're trapped,' he called out.

'Never say die,' the Doctor said loudly. He guided the jeep on to the 2nd Division's airfield, heading for a couple of wounded men who were lying near an L5 spotter plane. 'Can you still walk?'

'Just about.' Actually he wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to say that. He'd shown enough weakness over the past twenty-four hours already.

'Good.' The jeep pulled up under the plane's wing. 'Help me get these men on board. It looks like they need help even more than you do, and we should be able to get the three of you out in the plane.'

Wiesniewski staggered out of the jeep without thinking. There were a lot more men than these two at risk from the advancing German armour, but even saving two would be better than none. h.e.l.l, even if they failed, at least it was better to go out trying, wasn't it?

The Doctor had quickly applied a pad to the first man's shoulder wound, and then lifted him bodily, with little apparent effort. Wiesniewski, on the other hand, pulled the man with the leg wound over to the door by his torso, so that the Doctor could lift him into the back of the plane. It was pretty cramped in there, and the men could still end up bleeding to death from the movement, but Wiesniewski didn't see much of a choice. They couldn't just leave them.

A neighbouring L5 was already starting its engine, under fire. 'Get in,' the Doctor told Wiesniewski. Wiesniewski staggered a little, but still managed to lift himself most of the way into the right-hand seat. The Doctor finished the job with a hearty shove, then boarded himself and pulled the door closed.

'Can you really fly one of these?' Wiesniewski asked belatedly.

'Let's find out!' the Doctor replied cheerily, starting the engine.

The fragile little plane turned, and now Wiesniewski could see a Panzer leading half a dozen half-tracks to block this airstrip. Most of the L5s were already burning on the ground and the other one that had got its engine started was hurtling towards the German armour.

The Doctor set their plane in motion, following its neighbour. Wiesniewski was afraid to look, knowing that they were both heading straight into the German fire. 'There's not enough runway for a takeoff!'

'Be positive,' the Doctor chided him. 'Too much negativity is... well, far too negative.'

The plane in front shuddered under the hail of gunfire, its wings tearing into shreds. Wiesniewski thought that was about as negative as it was possible to get, but it wasn't deterring the Doctor from his course, even when it exploded abruptly, scattering pieces of shrapnel across the German half-tracks. The engine and fuselage tumbled earthward, smas.h.i.+ng into the nose of the half-track that had shot it down. Ammunition exploded within as the surviving troops leapt to safety. The explosion and the shrapnel, however, had blinded the Germans to the Doctor's plane.

It was too late for the Doctor to change his mind now. He pulled back on the stick. The half-tracks dropped away with a sickening lurch, but Wiesniewski could still hear gunfire, and was sure some of it was going through the wings and fuselage. To his amazement, however, the plane didn't start to plummet and soon the only sound was that of the engine.

'Told you so,' the Doctor said gently.

Wiesniewski shook his head wearily. 'Any idea where we're going?'

The Doctor tapped the gla.s.s on the fuel gauge. 'Not enough to reach the main Allied fields at Liege or Luxembourg City... We could make Bastogne, but that's undoubtedly a major target for the Germans.'

'There are field medical facilities there,' Wiesniewski pointed out. Maybe it was his concussion, and maybe it was just light-headedness from the alt.i.tude, but he could feel himself drifting away. 'Those guys back there need treatment as early as possible. At least they might have a chance in Bastogne. If we run out of fuel and crash, then they're screwed. Of course, if we crash, we're all screwed.'

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully. 'All things considered, Bastogne looks to be our best bet.'

The Doctor banked the plane.

Fitz, against what he hoped wasn't his better judgement, had stayed on the sidelines of the German entrenchment. He had volunteered to try to repair a damaged radio, simply because it probably wouldn't lead to getting shot at. Besides, he had always enjoyed taking things apart and fiddling with them. Putting them back together, of course, was the trick.

He wasn't concentrating on it enough to do any good, but at least it made him look active, and thus unlikely to be disturbed by other German troops. And of course it gave his mind time to try to think of what to do next. Frustratingly, his mind seemed to be more interesting in screaming 'Jesus Christ!' and 'run!' over and over for the moment, but he was fairly sure that it would get itself in gear before too long.

It also gave him the opportunity to watch the crews of the new armoured cars. They seemed to be talking to just about everyone in turn, and Fitz was as pleased as he was dismayed to see the officer he had twice encountered point him out.

The officer beckoned him over, and Fitz went, hoping he wasn't shaking as much as he felt he was. 'Corporal, this is Sturmbannfuhrer Sturmbannfuhrer Leitz, a.s.signed to special duties. He wishes to speak to everyone involved in the aftermath of the battle.' Leitz, a.s.signed to special duties. He wishes to speak to everyone involved in the aftermath of the battle.'

Leitz looked at Fitz expectantly, and Fitz realised he was waiting for a n.a.z.i salute. Fitz gave him one, the kids doing the same to him in the playground flas.h.i.+ng into his mind. If they could only see him now... 'At ease, Corporal...?'

'Kreiner, sir,' Fitz answered in his best impression of the guards from The Great Escape The Great Escape.

'All right, Kreiner. The lieutenant here tells me you were here for the battle, and remained afterward.'

'That's correct, sir.'

'Have you seen any further American resistance?'

'No sir. I thought I saw a flash from a telescopic sight earlier, but it turned out to be a piece of a broken bedroom mirror.' If this guy wanted to believe this bull, that was fine with Fitz, but he reminded himself not to get c.o.c.ky. This Leitz clearly wasn't stupid. There was something about his posture and the look in his eyes that proved that.

'Did you see anything... unusual, after the battle? Strange lights, perhaps?'

Fitz suddenly had a hunch. Something weird had happened on the street earlier and then these vehicles with weird antennae had turned up. It could be a coincidence, but he supposed he was beginning to develop an instinct for these things. 'You're looking for what caused the fuzziness?' He didn't want to say too much in case it helped them any. Just being around the SS made him nervous.

'Fuzziness? You did did see something.' see something.'

'For a moment. Not light or darkness, but... something else.'

'For how long?'

'I'm not sure. There was...' He cleared his throat. 'A temporal anomaly.'

Now the Sturmbannfuhrer Sturmbannfuhrer regarded Fitz more closely and spoke. His expression was mild, but Fitz wasn't letting that fool him. 'Temporal anomaly. A curious phrase; what do you mean by it?' regarded Fitz more closely and spoke. His expression was mild, but Fitz wasn't letting that fool him. 'Temporal anomaly. A curious phrase; what do you mean by it?'

'Exactly what I said. Time sort of... slowed down. People were moving... wrong.' The Sturmbannfuhrer Sturmbannfuhrer nodded and started to look away; obviously this was something he already knew about. That in itself interested Fitz, and he pressed on, feeling more than a little Doctorish. It was kind of fun; no wonder the Doctor behaved like this so often. 'There's nothing dense enough round here to cause relativistic effects, is there?' he asked, stringing together a few words he'd heard the Doctor use, that might make him sound as if he knew enough to be valuable. nodded and started to look away; obviously this was something he already knew about. That in itself interested Fitz, and he pressed on, feeling more than a little Doctorish. It was kind of fun; no wonder the Doctor behaved like this so often. 'There's nothing dense enough round here to cause relativistic effects, is there?' he asked, stringing together a few words he'd heard the Doctor use, that might make him sound as if he knew enough to be valuable.

The Sturmbannfuhrer Sturmbannfuhrer froze. 'No.' At least that told Fitz that the officer knew something about this. Or that he was trying to find out. He turned abruptly. 'Anyone driving to Lanzerath?' froze. 'No.' At least that told Fitz that the officer knew something about this. Or that he was trying to find out. He turned abruptly. 'Anyone driving to Lanzerath?'

One of the chain dogs indicated a Hanomag half-track and the Sturmbannfuhrer Sturmbannfuhrer turned back to Fitz. 'Go with them. A first aid station has been set up at the Cafe Scholzen; they'll fix that cut. I'll be there later tonight.' turned back to Fitz. 'Go with them. A first aid station has been set up at the Cafe Scholzen; they'll fix that cut. I'll be there later tonight.'

Fitz saluted again. He wanted desperately to refuse, but what could he say? 'Sorry, mate, but I'd rather follow the Yanks and look for my time-travelling friends,' probably wouldn't cut it with the n.a.z.is.

Jurgen Leitz watched Kreiner leave, knowing in his gut that there was something different about him. It wasn't that he was a spy for the Allies at least he didn't think so but he just wasn't Waffen SS material. He also seemed to know things that most ordinary men wouldn't even think about. He knew some of his peers would immediately haul the man in for interrogation, but what would be the point? He was one of their own side, after all, and news and rumour spread among soldiers even more quickly than VD.

The thing that seemed most odd was how casually he spoke of the event. Yes, that was it. He spoke with some familiarity. He would bear watching indeed. Leitz finally allowed a newly arriving presence to enter his thoughts and turned to the Rottenfuhrer Rottenfuhrer who had just returned from the lead armoured car. 'Yes, Farber?' who had just returned from the lead armoured car. 'Yes, Farber?'

Farber gave a n.a.z.i salute and an expression flushed with excitement. 'Sir, we have a prisoner.'

'A prisoner?'

'One of the special kind you wanted,' Farber said, barely above a whisper. 'The generators work, just as we hoped.' Leitz felt some of that excitement himself; this would look good on his reputation at Wewelsburg.

'Excellent. Where is it now?'

'On its way here, in a towed armoured car, with all the hatches sealed.'

Leitz nodded thoughtfully. 'All right. Set up the quarantine area in that field.' He indicated an expanse of open ground next to a barn. 'Have at least two generators running to be on the safe side and a third standing by, just in case.' That seemed efficient enough by anybody's standards. 'Arrange for guard duty, but make sure the guards know not to look inside.'

'Understood.'

Chapter Three.

Slings and Arrows Ray Garcia had been a real Latin charmer five years ago. Now he was just a baggy-eyed young man who looked permanently on the verge of toppling over from exhaustion. That was just his own diagnosis, from looking in the mirror. To others, he suspected, he probably just looked like death warmed up.

And he didn't remember ever being as charming as people a.s.sumed he had been. Charming people had social lives outside their jobs, which was something Garcia hadn't had for a very long time. It was less painful, overall, to live for the job in hand, if not very relaxing. He was lucky to sleep one night in a week, terrified of missing some important injury and losing a patient. Equally, he didn't want to screw up by being asleep on his feet, so he tried to doze at quieter moments, regardless of the time of day.

He had just about managed to grab a couple of hours' uncomfortable sleep on a small couch in his office, when there was a commotion from outside. The field hospital used to be a small hotel until a few months ago, but now the larger rooms were being used as wards and the old bar room had become an operating theatre. The reception area still fulfilled its original duty, though, and that was where the noise was coming from.

Groaning, Garcia rose, and went to the door of his office. It wasn't much of an office, either, being just a janitor's cubbyhole under the single worn staircase.

In the reception area, a man was arguing with one of the medical orderlies. He certainly wasn't a soldier and wore a dark-green, velvet frock coat, which, along with the curls of his shoulder-length hair, made him look like some wild outlandish figure.

For a moment, Garcia felt a flood of relief he was obviously still asleep and dreaming. How else could Oscar Wilde be standing outside his office? Then the stranger's wide pale eyes looked straight at him, as if peering around right inside him, and he knew he wasn't dreaming.

'Ah, you must be in charge here, Captain,' the stranger said with a smile. 'I have three badly wounded men outside, who need urgent medical care.' He put an arm round Garcia's shoulder, steering him towards the front door as he continued urgently. 'Two have multiple bullet wounds, and the other has a bad concussion and hypothermia.'

'Hold it,' Garcia finally managed to say. 'Just who are you?'

'Oh, I am am sorry, I'm forgetting my manners. I'm the Doctor.' He shook Garcia's hand with gusto. sorry, I'm forgetting my manners. I'm the Doctor.' He shook Garcia's hand with gusto.

'Of medicine?'

'Sometimes. I don't really like to get tied down to one science, you know. I've always found variety to be the spice of life.'

Garcia nodded in weary disbelief, but he found himself smiling anyway. 'Spice, huh? OK, bring your people in.'

The Hanomag pulled up in front of a battered building, the outer walls of which were chipped and marked with bullet holes. Someone had hung a swastika flag above the door, all but covering the sign proclaiming this was the Cafe Scholzen.

Fitz tried not to look too nervous as he climbed out of the half-track. After all, he wanted to look like someone who was supposed to be here. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window and s.h.i.+vered slightly. If his father were alive to see him in an SS parasuit... well. He wouldn't exactly be made up.

The sight did remind him of one thing, though: from the outside, he looked like a card-carrying member of the so-called master race. How hard a role could that be to play?

It was an odd thing, he'd noticed, that the more corrupt and evil a regime was, in his experience anyway, the better fas.h.i.+on sense it seemed to have. Why was that? Maybe there was some sort of natural law that said every race of bad guys in the universe had to have at least one positive attribute in their nastiness, however small. Take the Ruin, for instance. Probably wonderful to their mums.

He had to restrain the urge to put on a very cod-German accent. In the muddy streets that met at this crossroads, SS troopers were setting up defensive positions, just in case unloading supplies, directing traffic. It was a pretty busy area.

Inside, an SS Standartenfuhrer Standartenfuhrer was trying to spread out a map on a dresser, but it kept rolling back up. Visibly annoyed, he took bayonets from two of the soldiers and speared it to the wall with them. As he did so, a group of men in parachutists' jumpsuits and rimless helmets came in. 'Colonel von Hofman.' The was trying to spread out a map on a dresser, but it kept rolling back up. Visibly annoyed, he took bayonets from two of the soldiers and speared it to the wall with them. As he did so, a group of men in parachutists' jumpsuits and rimless helmets came in. 'Colonel von Hofman.' The Standartenfuhrer Standartenfuhrer acknowledged their leader with a salute. 'Where the h.e.l.l have you been?' acknowledged their leader with a salute. 'Where the h.e.l.l have you been?'

'Fighting.' He pointed to a spot on the map. 'These woods seem to be heavily fortified. The roads are mined and scattered fire from pillboxes is holding us up. It's impossible to attack under those conditions.'

'Seem to be heavily fortified? Have you personally reconnoitred the American positions?' to be heavily fortified? Have you personally reconnoitred the American positions?'

'My battalion commander for that area has made a full report,' he said, gesturing to one of his men.

'Then you you made the reconnaissance?' the made the reconnaissance?' the Standartenfuhrer Standartenfuhrer asked. asked.

The paratrooper shook his head. 'Captain Grauman '

The Standartenfuhrer Standartenfuhrer thrust a telephone into the paratroop commander's hand. 'Call him.' thrust a telephone into the paratroop commander's hand. 'Call him.'

Fitz didn't know who any of these people were, but the Standartenfuhrer Standartenfuhrer was very annoyed at something, and he was glad he wasn't in any of the other soldiers' shoes. was very annoyed at something, and he was glad he wasn't in any of the other soldiers' shoes.

The soldier did so. 'Captain Graumann '

The Standartenfuhrer Standartenfuhrer grabbed the phone back. 'Graumann, this is Lt-Colonel Peiper. I'm told you surveyed the American positions?' He listened carefully to the response, clearly irritated by the answers he was getting. 'Then,' Peiper said pointedly, 'you haven't personally seen any American resistance at all?' grabbed the phone back. 'Graumann, this is Lt-Colonel Peiper. I'm told you surveyed the American positions?' He listened carefully to the response, clearly irritated by the answers he was getting. 'Then,' Peiper said pointedly, 'you haven't personally seen any American resistance at all?'

He paused to listen to another response. 'That's what I thought.' He banged down the phone and glared at von Hofman and his battalion commander. They had the good sense not to say anything incriminating or inflammatory. Either that or they were speechless with fear, and Fitz couldn't blame them.

Peiper rounded on the battalion commander. 'You're relieved of duty, for incompetence. You could at least have checked on the enemy positions yourself. You,' he said to von Hofman, 'will second his men to my direct command. And don't say a d.a.m.n word I don't want any more excuses for your incompetence. Now both of you get out of my sight!'

The paratroop officers retreated hastily, and the Standartenfuhrer Standartenfuhrer snarled and kicked over a chair. He turned to one of his aides. 'Get two Panthers up front. I'll lead the paras in half-tracks behind them, flanked with whatever Panzers we can spare. Let me know when they're a.s.sembled.' He stalked out, muttering something under his breath. Fitz doubted it was very complimentary towards the paratroops. The men almost collided with Leitz on his way out, but didn't say anything; doubtless, Leitz outranked him in his own branch of the military. snarled and kicked over a chair. He turned to one of his aides. 'Get two Panthers up front. I'll lead the paras in half-tracks behind them, flanked with whatever Panzers we can spare. Let me know when they're a.s.sembled.' He stalked out, muttering something under his breath. Fitz doubted it was very complimentary towards the paratroops. The men almost collided with Leitz on his way out, but didn't say anything; doubtless, Leitz outranked him in his own branch of the military.

Now that they were indoors, Fitz got a better look at Leitz. He was a harried-looking Sturmbannfuhrer Sturmbannfuhrer. Though he was meticulously clean-shaven, Fitz got the impression that he'd skipped a few meals too many. He looked like the sort of man who was just in too d.a.m.n much of a rush to bother with trivialities like eating. It'd probably get him killed someday, Fitz theorised, and probably just as well.

'Ah, Kreiner. I've been looking for you.'

That put Fitz on alert. 'You have? Sir?'

Leitz nodded. 'You seem to have done good work back there. I need good men. I'm having you transferred to my unit. Farber will be round soon with your a.s.signment for guard duty.'

Fitz wasn't sure how to respond to that. 'Thank you, sir,' seemed appropriate to blend in.

Leitz sat beside Fitz and pa.s.sed him a mug of particularly vile ersatz coffee. 'Unlike some officers, I like to know a little about my subordinates. Where are you from?'

'Leipzig,' Fitz replied easily. At least, that was where his father had come from before leaving Germany.

Leitz took that in. 'I'm from Bremen, myself. Still, we're all pretty far from home, eh?'

'Very,' Fitz agreed, with great feeling.

Leitz frowned. 'Your accent is a little strange... One of Skorzeny's?'

Fitz shrugged as casually as he could. 'Yeah,' he agreed, hoping that this 'Skorzeny' was a good thing or person to be a.s.sociated with in the eyes of the German military. 'I'm half British,' he explained. 'On my mother's side.'