“Between us we can improve the Motherland’s understanding of our enemies, purely by sharing and talking, without the standard defensiveness and posturing.”
She could only agree, and found her last suspicions about Kaganovich dissolving.
Picking up her schnapps, Nazarbayeva committed herself to a new relationship with the NKVD, in the person of Kaganovich, a relationship formed for the benefit of the Motherland and the leadership.
“Za zdorovje!”
The NKVD General smiled and swallowed his pickled egg before joining Tatiana in the toast.
“Za zdorovje!”
He toasted his new relationship with the GRU General, a relationship formed for the benefit of the Motherland… and himself.
“Now, we simply must find a way to make our leadership acknowledge the new threat from the Germans.”
The children were enjoying some quality time with their father in the garden room, which gave Anne-Marie the first real opportunity to discuss matters with her Aunt Armande.
The house itself was set in extensive woodland, which offered both privacy and security, the factors that had made Anne-Marie suggest it as an appropriate place to house the girls.
Aunt Armande had never experienced the pleasures of motherhood, her new husband and only love had been lost forever in the mires of the Western Front in 1918, and she was delighted to look after them.
That delight had turned to love, a love that was wholly returned, making the arrangement a total success.
That they had very quickly formed a bond with Anne-Marie, and vice-versa, was also a reason.
Ignoring the knocking that summoned the butler, both women settled to enjoy the hot chocolate, the timing and consumption of which had become a family habit, leastways in Armande Fleriot’s house.
“You seem very happy, chérie.”
“We have stopped them, and soon we will start rolling them back.”
Mme Fleriot snorted.
“That is not what I meant and you know it, Ami.”
Which Anne-Marie could only acknowledge with a smile.
A brief knock and the butler admitted himself, his face showing signs of indignant distress.
“Madame, there is an Army officer here with a message for your guests. He refuses to give it to me, stating he must hand it over in person.”
Clearly, the struggle for supremacy in the hall had been short but bitter, and the butler had been defeated.
“Then please ask him to come through, Jerome.”
“As you please, Madame.”
Within seconds, a Legion dispatch rider entered the room and came to attention in front of Mme Fleriot.
“My apologies for the interruption, Madame, but I was instructed to hand these orders over in person.”
“I understand totally, Caporal. Please do carry on.”
The Legionnaire turned to De Valois and saluted, noting how wonderful she looked out of uniform.
“They are for the Général, mon Capitan.”
He showed her the sealed envelope.
“I will take them on his behalf.”
“Non… I cannot, Mon Capitan. I was ord…”
“I understand your orders, Caporal, but the Général is with his children right now and, if these are what I think they are, then we should give him every moment we can, don’t you agree?”
Stories of De Valois’ beauty abounded in Legion circles, whereas her capacity to intimidate was a lot less well known.
Her suddenly piercing eyes carried a clear message to the Caporal.
“I will take the orders, Caporal.”
It was a statement that brooked no argument whatsoever.
“Thank you, Caporal.”
Tearing the letter open, it took Anne-Marie twenty seconds to read the contents.
“I understand these orders, Caporal.”
“And you will give them to the Général immediately, Capitan?”
“I will inform the Général as soon as I can, Caporal.”
“Thank you, Capitan.”
A swift salute, followed by another nod to Mme Fleriot, and the motorcyclist went to depart.
“Caporal, perhaps you might ask Jerome to find you some food and drink from the kitchen, before you go back out.”
“Thank you, Madame.”
“I heard a bike outside. Have we got visitors, Ami?”
Anne-Marie passed over the orders.
“Verdamnt.”
“I agree. Tonight?”
He thought for a moment.
“Has to be. The girls and I had plans for you tomorrow too, Ami.”
He had quickly taken to using the abbreviated form of her name.
“They’ll keep, Chéri. Now, we’d best tell them… and get packed straight away.”
Greta and Magda were both heartbroken.
Molyneux cut St.Clair a cutting look.
“You’re late.”
He knew Molyneux well enough not to even bother speaking about the Sherman tank that ran into his staff car; the Frenchman simply kept his lips sealed.
“Now that Général de Brigade St.Clair has finally bothered to show up, we can progress.”
Receiving a small box from Plummer, Molyneux tossed it carelessly to the new arrival.
“It seems someone deems your actions in Alsace worthy of some record. De Lattre asks me to present you with that.”
St.Clair opened the box to find a Croix de Guerre with palm inside.
Molyneux intended the slight, but the rest of those present gave him no opportunity to progress, noisily congratulating the French commander of Alma on his award.
“Yes, yes, enough of that.”
Standing up, Molyneux pulled his tight jacket into position and took a position of parade ease.
“Colonel Plummer has orders for all of you.”
The CoS moved forward and handed out the sealed envelopes, pausing to noisily congratulate St.Clair as he moved through the assembled commanders of the Legion Corps.
Unperturbed, the rhino-skinned Molyneux kept talking.
“Most of you have disengaged with the enemy now, and your units are in secondary or rear-line positions recuperating, so your orders should be easy enough to discharge, even for you.”
He turned to the recently promoted Major-General Pierce.
“As for you, Général Pierce. Your unit is being returned to the US Army. As of now, you are no longer under my direct command. Bon chance.”
Whilst most in the room understood that Molyneux was an ass of the first order, his virtual dismissal of Pierce was inexplicable, given the part that his 16th Armored had played in the Legion’s battles.
“Well, open your orders then!”
Envelopes rustled, tore, and surrendered up written instructions.
“Mein Gott!”
“Mon Dieu!”
“Merde!”
“Scheisse!”
The senior French officers of the Legion Corps, and even Pierce, gravitated towards the wall map, fingers searching out the stated locations, whereas Knocke and Bittrich knew only too well.
“Stop acting like a rabble and listen to me.”
They dragged themselves away from the map and formed a semi-circle around their commander’s desk, Molyneux having taken to his comfortable chair again.
“Général Beveren, Austerlitz will be able to disengage on Monday. Colonel Haefali’s brigade will be the last to entrain, as he will not be relieved until Wednesday.”
“Sir.”
“Général Lavalle, Normandie will form the vanguard when we move forward.”
“Sir.”
Molyneux looked down his nose at the commander of Group Normandie.
“Oui, Mon Général, if you please.”