“You’ve got to hear this,” Mat whispered.
“‘Major Golding has antagonized the staff to such a degree that I have had to resume control, and he fails to carry out my instructions to an alarming degree. His continued presence on my staff is a waste of public funds. He criticizes the policy of the British Government and my conduct of the work of this section in the presence of private soldiers and foreigners. He is unreliable and slothful to a remarkable degree. In my opinion he is unfitted for employment in any post demanding discipline and dependability.’
“Signed ‘Colonel, G. S.’”
“Slothful. I need to remember that.”
“It reminds me of some of the students in my TA sections,” Mat quipped.
“Do you like teaching? I didn’t realize when we were seniors that you were going on for a doctorate.” I faced Mat.
From his expression I couldn’t decide if he was considering the question or me. We’d been so close once I should have known that, no matter what had happened our final year of school.
“I do. I didn’t at first. I suspect eighteen-and nineteen-year-olds have little respect for twenty-two- and twenty-three-year-olds, but now I’m a decade older than they are and there’s a little distance we recognize. The dynamic works. They act like I might know something.” He winked at me. “I never let on when I don’t.”
“What would you tell them about all this?” I drummed my fingers on the file in front of me. “A student finds a thread, one that pulls in lots of directions, yet can’t pull a definitive answer from any one of them—nothing that answers the main question. Was Caroline Waite a traitor or a hero?”
Mat drew closer, clearly understanding my deeper question. “I’d counsel caution, even more so than when I wrote my now defunct article. The letters opened up their humanity for me and changed the facts considerably. They were sisters who were funny, touching, kind, jealous, and in love—tragically with the same man. Everything written about them should carry that humanity. I’m not sure I got that before.”
He sat back. “But to answer your question, I would still encourage them to pursue it, wrestle with it, chase down all those threads, draw conclusions, and write something up. I’d push them to get to the point where their ideas are firm enough to commit them to writing, discussion, grading, publication, anything. We have to take our thinking that far because we can’t learn from history if we don’t press to understand it. And if we don’t understand it, we’re doomed to repeat it.”
I nodded, as I had come to the same conclusion. Except I wasn’t thinking on the macro level. It wasn’t the scholars who needed to process Margo and Caro’s story—it was me. When I read their words, the narrative I found was my own and, in understanding their story, I began to see my family, my father, and myself. To learn from it, rather than repeat it, felt vital. Without redemption for Caro—without uncovering the truth about her life—was redemption possible for me? For any of us?
Mat caught the change in my expression and nudged my shoulder. “What are you thinking?”
There was so much I couldn’t say. And one thing I could. I lifted the page I’d just read and tilted it in his direction. “We’re nearing the end. Here is Rose’s last mission, three days before that final letter to the Waites.”
Mat tucked close.
MOST SECRET OPERATION CLEMENTINE FIELD SUMMARY
17/18 October 1941
The purpose of this operation was to attack and do as much damage as possible to the engine facility in Paris twelfth arrondissement as it is extremely important in supplying engines for German troops. In particular, the construction of Arado Ar 240 aircraft.
It was thought that the maximum damage would be inflicted by blowing up the cement support structures in the main workroom area.
The party chosen consisted of 3 men equipped with automatic pistols, grenades, fighting knives, 4 specially devised explosive charges, incendiaries, rubber gloves, scaling ladder, wire cutters, and 2 days of emergency rations.
The above mentioned party and equipment were transported by one aeroplane in one container and dropped by parachute at a suitable point not far from the target. Cover was arranged by ROSE TREMAINE about 3 miles from the area where the party was due to be dropped and north of proposed target.
Reconnaissance led by ROSE revealed unexpected obstacles, and although these were successfully overcome, the operation was carried out later than expected on 17 October, with 2 additional German security officers on duty, as well as an alternate diversion employed 8 blocks from the factory entrance.
All 4 support structures were blown up. The party saw flames reaching 150 feet. Searchlights were seen probing the sky for hostile bombing aircraft. The results of that attack were as follows:
The 12 Germans who were in the station at the time were arrested and, it is believed, shot.
The railway and street traffic in the district was suspended for a considerable period of time.
The engine factory was completely destroyed—both production lines—and will be out of commission for a considerable time.
3 agents reached the safe house organized by ROSE and left France via fishing boat off west coast. ROSE did not meet party at house nor at departure location. She has not been heard from. Presumed dead.
Mat rubbed his eyes as if trying to create something new on the page in front of us—answers to the myriad questions remaining. “That’s no coincidence, Caroline. Arnim’s transfer was cited in his record on October 17, and that’s the last of him I could find. He vanished. There has to be a connection.”
“How do we find it?” I turned the page.
MOST SECRET CIPHER TELEGRAM
To: War Office
From: Nelson, Frank
28/7 cipher 14/12
Desp. 1425 12 December 1941
Recd. 1632 13 December 1941
Two months post CLEMENTINE, reliable reports confirm the factory is still out of commission and will not be usable without significant German assistance.
In addition, despite a thorough search, ROSE TREMAINE has not been located since her deployment of diversionary tactics on the night of the operation.
“That’s it. There’s nothing more here about that night or about her . . . What do we do now?”
“I don’t know.” Mat blew out a long breath.
I tapped open my phone and read about the operation. “Wikipedia says, ‘Operation Clementine was a military mission in October 1941 during the Second World War. The mission was organized by the British Special Operations Executive with assistance from the Royal Air Force. A German engine factory manufacturing light and heavy artillery aircraft was destroyed outside Paris.’”
“That was a big win.” Mat turned the page. Then another and another until the end of the file. “There’s really no more. She’s never mentioned again.”