“A pleasure to meet you, Herr Major,” he said. “YouVe been in Jersey long?”
“Only a couple of months,” Necker told him. “I’m not with the 319th Division normally. Only on loan.”
They went upstairs, he knocked and opened a door, stood to one side and Martineau went in first. It was a pleasant enough room, obviously originally the office of some official. The officer who stood up and came around the desk to meet him was a type he recognized instantly. A little stiff in manner, rather old-fashioned regular army and very definitely no Nazi. An officer and a gentleman.
“Standartenfuhrer. A pleasure to see you.” The hand-shake was 8na, friendly enough, but the eyes said something else. Only surface courtesy here.
“Colonel Heine.” Martineau opened his coat and produced his SD card.
Heine examined it and handed it back. “Please sit down. In what way can we serve you? YouVe met Felix Necker, of course. He’s only on loan from Paris. Temporarily my second in command. A holiday for him. Just out of hospital. He was on the Russian Front.”
“Indeed?” Martineau said. He took out the Himmler letter and passed it across.
Heine read it slowly, his face grave, then passed it to Necker. “If I could know the purpose of your visit?”
“Not at this stage.” Martineau took the letter as Necker handed it back to him. “All I need is assurance of total cooperation as and when required.”
“That goes without saying,” Heine hesitated. “As for billeting arrangements, I understand you are staying at de Ville Place.”
“Yes, I spoke to Captain Muller of the GFP on the pier when we arrived. He was most cooperative. He has already supplied me with a suitable vehicle, so for the moment, there is really nothing else I require. It would be useful if you informed all unit commanders of my presence.”
“Of course. There is one thing,” Heine added. “I have to go to Guernsey and so does the civil affairs commander. A weekend conference with General von Schmettow.”
Martineau turned to Necker. “Presumably you will be in command?”
“That is correct.”
“Then I can see no problem.” He got to his feet and picked up his hat.
Heine said, “I’ll see you when I get back then?”
“Possibly.” Martineau shook hands. “A pleasure, Herr Colonel. I’ll let you get on with it now. Don’t bother to see me out, Major.”
The door closed behind him. Heine’s whole demeanor changed. “My flesh always crawls when these SS security people appear. What in the hell does he want, Felix?”
“God alone knows, Herr Colonel, but his credentials…” Necker shrugged. “Not only signed by Himmler, but by the Fuhrer himself.”
“I know.” Heine put up a hand defensively. “Just watch him, that’s all. I’ll see what von Schmettow thinks when I get to Guernsey. But at all costs keep him sweet. Trouble with Himmler is the last thing we need,”
“Of course, Herr Colonel.”
“Good. Now show in these good citizens from the Food Control Committee and let’s get on with it.”
Martineau had time in hand so he walked through the town. There were plenty of people about, more civilians than soldiers. Most people looked underweight, but that was to be expected, and clothes looked old and well-worn. There were few children about, they’d be at school. The ones he did see were in better shape than he had expected, but then, people always did put their children first.
So, people managed. He knew, because Helen de Ville had told them, of the communal kitchens and bakeries to conserve fuel. It occurred to him that people in the town obviously had a more difficult time of it than those in the country. At that moment, as he moved into Queen Street, he saw a crowd overflowing the pavement ahead, all staring into a shop window.
It contained an amazing display of food of every description. Canned goods, sacks of potatoes and flour, hams, bottles of red wine and champagne. People said nothing, just looked. A notice in the window said: Black market goods. The enemy may be your own neighbor. Help defeat him. It was signed by Muller. The pain in the faces of ordinary people deprived too long was unbearable. Martineau turned and went back to Charing Cross.