Chapter 18: Morina is captured.
Warning: This chapter contains reluctant sex.
4 June 1944, Sunday. The day before D-Day.
The sun was out, and the airfield was finally dry enough for the planes to take off. The loud buzzing drone of plane engines filled the air as I walked towards the communications tent. I saw John in the distance, waiting outside the tent.
As I approached, his features became clearer. He was frowning.
"What are you doing with that?" he asked, pointing to something I was carrying.
I looked down and saw I was holding a large transmitter radio, the same radio that was found in Nigel Porter's tent.
"I'm going to call my father in Germany," I explained.
"So, it was you all along, Morina. It was you," he said pointing his finger at me.
"No, I just want to call my father," I explained.
"Wake up, Morina. You've been the one telling the Nazis about D-Day," he said.
"No, it wasn't me," I protested.
"Wake up, Morina. It's been you all along," he said, his voice no longer sounding as deep as usual.
"No, it's not true. It can't be," I demurred.
"Morina, wake up," he said in a woman's voice. His image faded away, but the voice was still there . . .
"Morina, wake up!"
I opened my eyes. There was Amanda standing over me, gently shaking my arm.
"You were having a dream. Are you okay?" she asked.
I sat up and hugged her waist.
"Oh Amanda, I'm glad it's you. That wasn't a dream, that was a nightmare," I said.
"You're awake now. The alarm went off 10 minutes ago. If we're going to get a shower, we have to go now.
"Okay, but let me go first," I said as I grabbed my uniform and left the tent wearing only my bra and panties.
My nightmare seemed so real that I was surprised when I got outside. Instead of being sunny, it was dark and drizzly. The wind had picked up and there was a chill in the morning air. I hurried to the showers hoping to warm up from the run and maybe to avoid any prying eyes from any number of the hundreds of men who might be up before reveille. I heard Amanda behind me, slipping in the mud and wet grass and cursing.
Rotating under the spray of cold water, some of my thoughts were coming into focus. Showers, even cold showers like this one seemed to stimulate thoughts and ideas. But with every line of thinking, my thoughts kept returning to the same conclusion, "I'm going to need a potion from Agatha."
"Hurry up in there!" Amanda called from the other side of the canvas curtain.
I turned off the spray and stepped out, still naked and dripping wet. Amanda slid past me and removed her clothes before turning the water back on.
I did my best to dry off, but in this light drizzle, there was little chance of getting completely dry. The fabric of my panties clung to my damp skin as I pulled them up my legs and they tore just below the waistband as I tugged them over my clammy hips.
Crap!
I was tired, miserable and in a bad mood. I had tossed and turned through most of the night, hardly sleeping at all. Then, when I did finally get to sleep, I had that terrible nightmare and overslept the alarm. Two days of cold and rainy weather only added to my foul mood . . . and now my torn panties.
I managed to get the bra and the rest of the uniform on by the time that Amanda emerged from the shower. A distant bugle sounded reveille, followed by a ragged chorus of other bugles as the airfield was officially waking up.
I helped Amanda towel off and get dressed before the sentries came by. It seemed like they checked our shower first, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of forbidden skin.
After Amanda was fully dressed, I wrapped her long, curly hair in a towel. My shoulder-length hair was easier to manage and usually dried quicker than hers. I felt a little guilty about my hair. When I left Massachusetts, it was already a bit longer than the regulation bob cut required for the WASPs, and it's gotten even longer since I've been here at Ashford. It will have to be cut when I rejoin the WASPs.
We sloshed our way back to the communications tent where we did our best to dry our hair. Amanda helped me pull mine back into a short pony tail, the wet tips soaking the back collar of my uniform shirt. Amanda's long curls were a more serious problem, and I helped her comb them out, unable to use magic because of Amanda's insistence that it causes her hair to frizz. Ribbons and bobby pins gathered her copper locks enough to wrap and tuck it under her uniform cap, mopping up the rivulets of water that dripped down from the incomplete drying with the wet towels.
The last step was to wipe and dry our muddy feet with our damp towels. It was my turn to wash the towels today, but I might have to beg off if I'm going to interrogate Nigel Porter this morning.
Fully dressed, I put on my raincoat and headed out to the headquarters tent for the administrative meeting.
Agatha was there ahead of me, and I sat in the seat she saved for me. She looked very excited and squirmed in her chair.
"What is it?"
I whispered.
"You'll see,"
she said, smiling.
Colonel Drummond's hands trembled slightly as he read aloud from the paper he was holding.
"The invasion will take place on the beaches of Normandy. Once we land, the name of the mission will change from Operation Neptune to Operation Overlord," he announced.
He glanced up from the dispatch and looked around at the faces that were hanging onto to his every word.
"This is top secret information. Most of the troops who will soon be piling into the landing craft have no idea where they're heading. Allied command has taken great pains to keep this location secret. They've also let it leak to the Nazis that our target is Calais, to divert their attention away from the true location," the Colonel explained.
"Sir, the wind has picked up today. Are we sure the landing is still on?" Major Locke asked.
"No, we're not sure. General Eisenhower is holding off on his final decision whether or not to go ahead with the invasion depending upon the weather. We have a narrow window to work with. The full moon is tomorrow night, and we need an extremely low tide to avoid most of the mines and traps that Rommel and the Nazis have lined the beaches with," the Colonel explained.
"When will we know for certain whether the invasion is on or not?" Captain Hastings asked.
"As soon as Allied Command tells me, I'll let you know," Colonel Drummond responded.
After the meeting, Colonel Drummond pulled Agatha and me aside.
"Here's a pass to see Porter. You can leave after breakfast and after Miss Chanter gets a bite to eat," he said, handing me the paper.
An hour later, Agatha and I were on our way to Kingsnorth air base, just south of Ashford proper. Colonel Drummond's pass got us through the gates at Kingsnorth and an interview with the base commander, General Yeager.
"Why do you ladies want to see the prisoner?" the General asked.
"It's urgent, sir. There were a few details about his arrest that didn't add up. We think he may have an accomplice and with operations coming to a head, we feel it's important to get as much information out of him as we can," I explained.
"I don't see why that's necessary. We have our best officers already interrogating him," the General said gruffly.
"We know Nigel Porter, sir, and we think that gives us an advantage when it comes to getting information from him. Men don't feel as threatened by women and I may be able to loosen his tongue more if it's just me in there with him," I replied.
"Oh, very well, then. If Drummond thinks it's worth a try, I won't stand in the way. I'll have Captain Fielding accompany you to see the prisoner," he said, reluctantly.
"If you please sir, I'd like to interview him alone. He's more likely to talk to me if no one else is present," I explained.
"I'm sorry Miss . . . (he looked for my name on the pass he was holding) . . . Spellman, but that's out of the question. He is a dangerous man, and I cannot allow you to risk your life. If you want to speak to the prisoner, Captain Fielding will need to be there with you," the General insisted.
"Yes sir," was my only possible reply.
On the way to the stockade, I whispered to Agatha,
"Do you think you can distract Captain Fielding for a few minutes?"
"I think that can be arranged,"
she said, giving me a wink. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt and pulled the fabric side, exposing the top of her bra and boob.
The stockade was a low, flat, rectangular building constructed mostly of cement. Captain Fielding unlocked the outer gate of the stockade and then relocked it after we were all inside. There was a second iron gate on the other side of the antechamber and four prison cells could be seen beyond that.
Captain Fielding unlocked the door leading to the prison cells. I stood by the open door and nodded discretely to Agatha. Before Captain Fielding could lead us into the prisoner area, Agatha fell sideways onto the floor.
"Ow, my ankle," she said, holding her left leg.
"Are you alright?" Captain Fielding asked, turning to help Agatha.
I quickly slipped inside. The prisoner area consisted of a short corridor with two cells on either side. Nigel Porter was the only one in there and he was in the farthest cell on the right-hand side.
