wait for darkness. For men who loved action as these men did, it was
difficult to sit still while there was so much to be done.
Even after darkness came, there was a long wait ahead of them, for they
were not to meet Tomaso until after midnight. Every fifteen minutes
from ten o’clock on, Vince or Max asked Dick if it weren’t time to
start yet. These two particularly were restless, for they had done
nothing at all since their landing by parachute. Dick and Tony had at
least gone into the town and laid plans.
It was well after eleven before Dick agreed to go. The radio equipment
was packed and ready long before that. Vince had built a fifteen-foot
ladder with an extra board at one end to enable it to fit over another
ladder. They took rope and a sort of metal grappling hook which Max had
hammered out of the metal cover of one of the supply containers.
Dick led the way down the hill, after telling Lieutenant Scotti that
they were leaving, and getting a nod in reply. Slade wished them luck
and sat by the entrance to the cave with a sub-machine gun across his
knees.
The four men followed the same route Dick and Tony had taken the night
before. Vince and Max would have gone at a trot, despite their heavy
loads, if Dick had not held them back.
“I never saw two fellows so anxious to walk into an enemy-held town
unarmed, and likely to be picked up and shot as spies!” the sergeant
laughed.
“I just want to do something, that’s all,” Vince insisted.
“Sure, the general’s depending on us, isn’t he,” Max added, “for the
success of this whole operation?”
“Okay, okay,” Dick said. “But the one way to make it a success is to
take it easy except when fast action is called for. The main thing to
remember tonight is—be quiet!”
They crossed the field and came to the road from the northeast. While
Dick clambered up the ditch and looked up and down the highway, the
rest of them crouched behind the wall with their loads. The lights of a
car flickered a bit away from town, so Dick scurried back and joined
the others behind the wall. In a few minutes four big trucks roared
past them into the town. Dick jumped up, ran to the road again and
motioned the others on.
Just as they were climbing over the wall on the other side, they heard
again the sounds of motors and ducked down. This time half a dozen
trucks came past and Dick whispered to Max, “Guess the general has
started his attack. The reinforcements are beginning to come in.”
In another fifteen minutes the four men stood on the hill behind the
villa, near the clump of trees where Dick and Tony had talked with
Tomaso the night before. Tony pointed out to Vince and Max the outline
of the bell tower which rose high over the villa, and showed them the
servants’ wing at the rear of it, where they would put their ladders on
the roof.
And then they saw the old man making his way up the hill toward them.
They waited in silence until he came under the trees, and then Tony
spoke.
“Hello, Uncle Tomaso,” he said gently. “We’re here.”
“Yes, I see,” the old man said. “With your radio—and a ladder, too.”
“We have everything,” Dick said. “And these are two more American
soldiers. You may have heard of this big fellow—he’s Vince Salamone.”
The old man looked at the home-run king and his eyes shone!
“Of course!” he cried. “Who in the world does not know the world’s
greatest baseball player? You have won good-will for Italians
everywhere, young man. Just think of it—here is old Tomaso with these
two great men—Vincent Salamone and Ricardo Donnelli! I am most
fortunate to be able to help you!”
“And this is Max Burckhardt,” Dick said. “His family was German, so you
can realize what a fighter he is against our enemies. But he cannot
speak Italian. We will speak to him in English so he will understand.”
The old man looked carefully at Max, who smiled back at him, then
nodded as if giving his approval.
“Come now,” he said. “We will go to work.”
“Is everything quiet?” Dick asked.
“Yes, but there has been much activity today,” the old man said. “Many
trucks and tanks and soldiers have come into Maletta by both roads. We
have heard of a big attack by the American forces.”
“Yes, that is why we must have the radio,” Dick said. “We want to
report to our Army how many trucks and tanks and soldiers come here.
Can you learn that for us each day?”
“My friends and I—we can learn,” Tomaso said. “Tomorrow morning I will
tell them, and each evening I can give you the information. But I do
not tell even my friends where the radio is. They need not know, and if
the Germans should try to torture the information out of them, they
will not be able to weaken.”
They were led to the end of the wing where the old man pointed out a
long ladder lying against the rear wall where there were no windows.
Vince lifted it and placed it against the roof, which was only a few
feet above them where they stood on the hill’s side.
Dick went up first and stepped carefully on the roof. He was pleased to
see that it was almost flat so that it would be easy not only to walk
on, but also to set a ladder on. There was just a slight slope toward
the rear.
He turned and motioned for the next man to follow, and Tony came up
with one case of radio material. Then came the old man himself, and
Dick and Tony helped him off the ladder. Next Max handed up the
home-made ladder that Vince had put together that day, and Dick and
Tony pulled it up and laid it on the roof. Max himself came next, with
another box of radio material and the coil of rope with its metal
grappling hook.
And last of all came Vince, with the big box containing the
hand-cranked generator to supply power for the radio transmitter. When
they were all on the roof, they waited for a minute, listening to see
if there were any unusual sounds about. They heard the chugging of
engines from the railroad yards to the west, the noise of truck motors
coming down the road from the northwest, and that was all.
Dick and Tomaso walked along the roof side by side, treading lightly,
and the others followed, bringing all equipment and both ladders.
Finally they stood in the deep shadow at the base of the old bell
tower. Looking up, it seemed to Dick as if it rose an impossible
distance into the sky. He felt sure their ladders would never reach it.
Vince set to work fixing his home-made ladder to the end of Tomaso’s
ladder. It slid over the end all right, but was rather loose, so he
took from his pocket a length of heavy cord and bound it round and
round the shafts where both ladders were joined. The others waited
silently, watching him work quickly and surely. In two minutes the
ladders were as strong as one long one, and Max helped Vince lift it so
that they could lean it against the bell tower.
Dick stood back a little way to see how close it came to the opening
near the top of the tower. It was almost ten feet short! He stepped
forward and whispered to Vince and Max:
“Lean it at a sharper angle. It’s short.”
He stepped back and saw that the new position gained only about three
feet. The top rung was still about seven feet below the opening in the
tower. And Tony could never stand on the top rung, hugging the wall.
He’d have to stand on the third rung from the top, so he’d have some
support for his hands and could lean his body in against the wall. Of
course, there was the rope and grappling hook, but that was tricky
business—uncertain and likely to make a good deal of noise.
Vince was standing beside him. “Can’t make it any steeper,” he said.
“It would topple backward.”
“Then Tony will have to try that rope and grappling hook,” Dick said.
They stepped forward to the others again.
“Tony, you’ll have to try that rope trick,” Dick said. “But make it as
quiet as possible, please. We’ll steady the ladder for you down here,
and we’ll even try to catch you if you fall. But take it easy. It will
probably take you quite a few tries before you can hook that thing on
the edge. We don’t know if it’s big enough to grab hold of that rock at
the opening. Maybe you can’t make it at all.”
“I’ll do my best,” Tony said, taking the rope and the hook from Max,
who had tied the metal piece to the end of the rope. Tony slung the
coil over his shoulder and started up the ladder. Without a sound he
slicked up the wobbly steps as if he were sliding, not climbing.
“Look at ’im go,” Max whispered. “He’s a wonder, that guy.”
Dick just looked upward without a word. Then he felt the old man’s hand
clutch his arm. Still he did not take his eyes away from Tony.
“Don’t worry, Tomaso,” he said. “Tony will be all right.”
“Yes, Tony is a good boy,” the old man said, and took his hand away.
Tony was near the top now. Dick could see the black blob that was his
figure against the wall of the tower. He saw an arm swing outward and
heard the clink of metal against stone. It was not as loud a noise as
he had thought it would be, and he breathed a little more easily. He
watched the arm swing outward again. There was another metallic sound,
and this time Dick saw the spark as metal hit stone. It seemed to him,
as clearly as he could make out, that Tony had come close that time.
But he was hoping so hard that he felt he must be wishing it to catch
hold.
Again Tony swung the rope with the big hook on the end. Each time he
felt the ladder wobble, each time he grabbed with one hand to steady
himself, each time he was sure he was falling. And then, each time,
too, he had to dodge that big metal hook that hurtled down at him when
it missed catching. He had not only to dodge it, but to try to catch it
so it would not clatter against the wall and make too much noise.
After half a dozen tries he stopped. His heart was beating like a
trip-hammer, and his breath was coming short. He knew that the others
below were tense.
He pulled himself together and tried again. The hook missed and came
down again. He caught it, almost lost his balance, grabbed hold, and
threw again. He was already ducking and reaching out for the falling
hook before he realized that this time it was not falling. It had
caught over the edge!
“Boy, I hate to give a tug on this rope,” he said to himself. “I’m
afraid if I do it will come right down again.”
But he tugged a little bit. The hook did not come down. He tugged
harder. Still it did not come down. Then with both hands he pulled. It
was secure.
As a final test, he lifted his feet from the ladder rung and let the
rope support his whole body. He wanted to shout with joy at knowing
that he had succeeded, but he could only smile silently.
Below, Dick knew that Tony had made it. There was no more slinging of
that big hook. Then he watched Tony’s figure creep up the side of the
wall above the ladder. Maybe the hook had been caught—but what if it
gave way now? Tony would topple down in their midst, the ladders would
fall, the metal hook would clatter to the roof, and the sentries would
be shooting at them!
But it didn’t happen. Instead he saw Tony’s figure disappear—and that
could mean only one thing! He had crawled in through the opening in the
bell tower. He had made it!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FRUITLESS SEARCH
The men on the roof said no word. They all knew, even old Tomaso, that
Tony had reached the opening at the top of the bell tower. They stood
close to the wall, their eyes fixed upward. For almost five minutes
they did not hear a sound or see anything.
Dick knew that Tony was busy. First, he was feeling his way about in
the darkness up there. At some point in the tower there was the yawning
hole of the ancient stone staircase which had crumbled so long ago.
Tony had to locate that danger spot and make sure to keep away from it.
Then he had to find a strong beam or rock to which he might tie the end
of the rope for pulling up his supplies. Dick wondered if any part of
the old bell stanchions might still be standing.
Suddenly a figure leaned from the opening at the top of the tower, and
then the rope came sliding down the wall toward them. At a whispered
word Vince and Max removed the long ladder from the side of the tower
and placed it flat on the roof, out of the way. Dick, meanwhile,
grabbed the rope end and tied it securely to the first container
holding radio material. Then he gave three short tugs on the rope.
It started upward at once. Tony took it slowly so that the container
would not bump noisily against the wall. Even with the greatest care,
it made too much noise as it scraped upward. Dick was worried about it.
He turned to Vince and Max.
“This might bring somebody out to see what’s going on,” he whispered.
“You’d better get going. No use all of us taking a chance on getting
caught. Take the ladders back. Take them apart. Vince, you take your
ladder and the cord you used back to the cave. Help Tomaso put his
ladder back where it belongs—not near this wing, anyway. The Germans
will be looking around for a radio transmitter tomorrow and we want to
leave no clues for them.”
“Okay, Dick,” Vince said, picking up the long ladder.
“See that Tomaso gets back to his room,” Dick said. “Then you and Max
head for the cave. When I get all the supplies up there, I’m going up
with Tony. As soon as he gets the radio working we’ll get in touch with
our forces, send our first message. I’ll stick there with Tony until
after dark tomorrow evening. Then I’ll get back to the cave. See you
there. If Scotti’s all right, give him a report on what we’ve done.”
While Dick was giving these instructions, the first container had
scraped up the tower wall to the opening and Tony had pulled it inside.
Now the rope was let down to the roof once more, and Dick quickly tied
the end to the second container as Max and Vince went to the rear of
the roof with Tomaso. Dick gave three jerks on the rope and the second
container started upward.
He looked back and saw the last of the three figures disappear from the
roof at the rear of the wing. He listened carefully but could hear no
sound other than the scraping of the metal container as it scratched
its way up to Tony. Then, when Tony pulled it inside, there was
complete silence. There was no indication that any of the Germans had
heard the sound and were coming to investigate.
In a few minutes the rope came snaking down the tower wall for the
last, and heaviest, container. It took Dick some time to tie it
securely, for it was an odd shape. He wondered if Tony would have too
hard a time pulling it up. Tony was small, but he was wiry and strong.
Just before he pulled his signal on the rope, he heard a slight sound
somewhere behind him. He jerked around, startled, and then saw two
shadows making their way across the hill behind the villa.
“Just Max and Vince,” Dick sighed with relief to himself. “If anything
happens now, they’re in the clear at least and can carry on.”
He pulled the rope and the big container started upward. A foot at a
time it went, scraping more noisily than either of the other boxes.
Halfway up it stopped for a full minute.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _Dick Tied the Rope Securely Around the Box_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Tony’s tired,” Dick told himself. “He’s probably taking an extra turn
around his post with the rope, in case his arms give out at the crucial
moment.”
Then the box started upward again at a pace which seemed painfully slow
to Dick, standing alone on the roof below. Almost inch by inch it
scratched toward the opening. Then it was there! Tony was pulling it
inside, Dick saw, but then there was a sudden loud clanking noise.
Instinctively, Dick crouched against the wall. The big box must have
slipped a bit as Tony tried to haul it inside. But he caught it,
dragged it in. That noise—it had been loud. Surely it would bring
someone to look around!
The rope slid down the wall quickly, and Dick snatched at it the moment
it was within reach. Hand over hand he pulled himself up the wall,
bracing his feet against the stone and walking up. Halfway up he was
panting, and the rope began to cut into his hands. But he did not let
himself slow down. If only he could get up there fast enough—
He felt a hand grasp his arm and knew that Tony was leaning out to help
him inside. With another pull he was able to throw one hand over the
stone ledge. Then, with a terrific heave, he slid his body through the
opening, tumbling onto the stone floor inside and banging his head
against a huge wooden beam.
Tony was already pulling the rope in as fast as he could, and Dick sat
where he had fallen, trying to get his breath back, not daring to move
yet for fear he might fall into the stair well. Then Tony was on the
floor beside him, whispering.
“Good going, Dick!” he said. “Sorry I made such a clatter. I almost
went out the opening with that last container. Keep to this side. The
stair well is there on your right, up against that wall. Everything
else is safe. There are big beams in the center where the bells used to
be. That’s where I tied the rope.”
“And where I banged my head,” Dick added. “Wait—what’s that?”
They froze in their tracks and listened. Below they heard voices, one
commanding, the other replying—in German. Tony moved silently to an
opening at the front of the tower, and Dick followed him. Looking down,
they could see a lighted space in front of the villa, with light coming
from two windows and the open door.
A German officer stood there, giving orders to two sentries. They were
walking to the sides of the villa, throwing their strong flashlight
beams into every dark corner and shadow.
“They heard it,” Dick whispered. “They’re looking around to see what’s
what.”
“What about the others?” Tony asked.
“Safely away,” Dick said. “And Tomaso’s in his room.”
They watched as the sentries circled around to the wing at the rear of
the villa, then returned and made a report to the officer. They threw
their flashlight beams upward toward the roof, over the old bell tower
and across the street. But there was nothing to be found. In a moment
the officer went back inside and the sentries took up their regular
posts at the front of the villa. The lights went out, and Dick and Tony
turned to each other and smiled.
“Now to work,” Tony said. “I’ll get that radio set up.”
Tony worked in the dark. It was not for nothing that he had so
carefully practiced assembling this radio. He wanted to be able to do
it by feeling alone, without relying on any light. Dick helped by
holding the few tools in his hands and giving them to Tony when he
asked for them. When Tony finished with the screwdriver he returned it
to Dick’s hands, so no time would be wasted feeling around for it.
It took almost an hour for Tony to complete his work. During that time
he worked without pause, muttering to himself the names of the
different parts he handled, giving himself instructions. Dick sat
patiently and said nothing, knowing Tony’s complete concentration on
his job. Finally, the young radioman turned to Dick and said, “There!
It’s done. If it will only work now.”
“Want the light for a few minutes to check it?” Dick asked. “I think it
might be safe.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s okay,” Tony replied. “After that noise, those
sentries may be more on the alert than usual.”
Dick edged his way up to the generator and felt for the cranks. “Tell
me when to start turning,” he said.
“Okay,” Tony said “Give me some power now.”
Dick turned the cranks and got them going at a regular speed.
“That’s about right,” Tony said. Dick heard him snap a switch and speak
in a clear voice into the little microphone.
“Julius Caesar to Mark Antony,” he said. “Julius Caesar to Mark Antony.”
Over and over he repeated the words, and after the tenth repetition, he
got his answer through his earphones.
“Mark Antony to Julius Caesar,” the voice said. “Come in, Julius
Caesar.”
“Got it, Dick,” Tony whispered exultantly. “Now give me the message—in
Italian and in code. I’ll repeat.”
Dick had memorized most of the short code which had been devised in
Italian for these special reports, so that he would not have to use a
light to refer to a code book. Later, he knew, when he came to give
detailed information as to troops and equipment, he would have to refer
to his code book to get things absolutely straight. But now he just
wanted headquarters to know that the paratroop party was established in
Maletta.
He spoke softly to Tony the words which would tell the American general
that the party had landed safely except for Scotti’s accident, that
they had contacted Tony’s uncle, that the radio was now set up in the
town itself. The next report, to come at eight o’clock the next
evening, would give detailed information about German troop movements
into Maletta, some of which had already started.
And that was all. It was essential to keep on the air the shortest
possible time, so that the German locator stations would have only a
minute or two in which to get a fix on the illegal transmitter.
Dick and Tony sat back. There was nothing more for them to do for a
long time, and they knew it.
“But I’ll bet there’s a lot going on in certain places,” Dick said to
Tony. “Back at headquarters, for instance, the radio orderly has rushed
that message to the code room and it will be taken at once to the
general. I’ll bet he left word to be awakened at any time a message
came through from us.”
“And they’re plenty busy at a couple of German listening posts, too,”
Tony said. “Maybe we’ll see some of the fun.”
Tony was right. In four German monitor stations their message had been
heard. In each one a line had been drawn on a detailed map showing the
direction from which the radio report had come. The message itself, in
Italian, was obviously code, and was rushed to decoding experts.
There were telephone calls from the four monitor stations to Gestapo
headquarters in a city to the northwest of Maletta. There the four
lines of the four different stations were drawn on a map, and the spot
at which those lines crossed was in the town of Maletta.
Before dawn two big black cars roared out of the city, toward Maletta
itself. That town, now the crucial point of resistance to the American
Army’s northward drive, would not have an illegal radio station for
long, the Gestapo officers felt sure. It was important—so important
that Colonel Klage himself led the locating party to wipe out that new
station which was obviously trying to get vital information to the
Americans.
At that time, Dick and Tony were asleep in the bell tower, after having
eaten a light meal from their ration tins. But the first light of dawn
woke them. Even if it had not, the roar of the two speeding cars
stopping in front of the villa would have done so. They peered
cautiously down out of the opening at the front of the tower.
Germans poured from the two big black cars, and one banged noisily on
the door of the villa after showing his credentials to the sentries
there. A man in a colonel’s uniform was looking over the villa and then
at the houses across the street. Dick could not see his face, but he
knew that the man was looking quite bewildered. He was standing at the
exact spot shown on the map to be the location of the illegal
transmitter—and yet it was German Army headquarters!
Two or three officers poured out of the front door of the villa, some
of them still pulling on jackets. Dick and Tony saw that some were in
their slippers, and they did not look at all smart. Instead they were
perturbed, even though officers of rank a good deal higher than the
colonel who faced them. A colonel in the Gestapo could still make an
army general tremble.
Dick wished that he might have heard the conversation that was going on
below: the angry statement of the colonel that an illegal transmitter
had operated from that spot and the vigorous protestations of the
others that such a thing was impossible. The colonel took a map from an
aide and pointed out the exact spot of the radio station, proving that
it was in German army headquarters in Maletta.
The army men pointed to houses across the street, and down the road to
the right. They were saying, Dick knew, that the transmitter must be
there, somewhere else in the neighborhood.
Then the search began. The Gestapo men went first to the small house
directly across the street from the villa. They were there half an
hour, and Dick and Tony knew how thoroughly they were tearing that home
to pieces looking for the hidden radio.
“I hate to put these Italians through such an ordeal,” Dick whispered,
“but we can’t help it.”