tonight. It would be dangerous. We might not be finished before it
began to grow light, and that would be just too bad.”
“It shouldn’t take too long at the dam,” Slade said. “I think I can rig
everything in half an hour if Vince can help me carry the stuff into
the pipe.”
“I know, but we’ve got to allow for all emergencies,” Dick said, “for
delays like the one that happened to me tonight.”
“Yes, Dick’s right,” Scotti agreed. “That dam operation is one that
can’t be rushed. If everything goes well you can be through in half an
hour, yes. But what if there’s a slip-up? What if that other colonel
appears in the midst of things, for instance? There are any number of
things that might happen to make you lie low for a few hours. And,
anyway, I was never too sure about getting everything in there a full
day before we were to set it off. We can do it on the last night, all
right. Now you boys all get some sleep. You’ll be needing it.”
After a bite to eat from their tins they went to sleep, but all of them
dreamed of explosions, of bridges being blown up, of dangerous
parachute jumps, or something involving action and danger. The first
light of dawn found them all awake, brewing some coffee over a small
fire.
And then there was the whole day to pass. They did it by going over
their plans endlessly, until they themselves were almost tired of
talking about them.
“This is a dull day, all right,” Vince complained. “I guess it’s the
calm before the storm.”
“There’ll be no calm before our storm,” Dick said. “The storm starts a
few minutes before dawn tomorrow, and we’re going to have a mighty busy
night before that time comes.”
“And I guess we won’t be able to sit down and have a siesta right
_after_ the storm, either,” Max added.
As it began to grow dark, Max got into his beautiful German uniform.
The others admired him greatly as he strutted about in front of the
cave trying hard to act like a Gestapo colonel.
“Say—I just thought of something,” he said. “As a big shot I wouldn’t
be traveling around without a staff or a few orderlies.”
“It is a little unusual,” Scotti said. “But you’re out to check up on
things personally. You’re dropping in on sentries without any warning.
In our Army, a private, or even a corporal, might wonder about such a
thing, but German soldiers aren’t taught to wonder. They don’t bother
to think, especially in the presence of a high officer. And with the
plan we’ve got arranged they won’t have time to think much.”
“All right,” Max said. “I just hope these guys react the way we expect
them to.”
“If they don’t, you all know what to do,” Scotti said. “I don’t like
the idea of gunfire at this crucial moment, but if we have to—well, we
have to.”
They set off about nine o’clock, leaving Scotti alone in the cave. He
was propped up near the entrance with a sub-machine gun across his
knees, two others near at hand, and several boxes of ammunition within
reach. After the others had left, he looked through the darkness after
them for a long time. Then he angrily brushed away the tears that kept
coming into his eyes, and reached out and banged his broken leg.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _Scotti Looked After the Others_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Why did that leg have to break?” he demanded. “I ought to be there
with my men and here I sit—”
But he stopped and gained control of himself again. Dick Donnelly could
carry this thing through if anyone could. He had shown amazing
cleverness so far in this matter, even when things got the most
dangerous.
Dick was not feeling as confident, however. He felt pretty tired, and
this test ahead of him was almost too much for him to carry. It was
even worse, almost, to know that your commanding officer expected so
much of you, to know that the men under you would do just about
anything you said.
They all carried heavy loads—the entire batch of dynamite, lengths of
wire, detonator boxes. But they made their way around the hill all
right, and came down toward the dam from above, as they had before.
Dick went ahead and looked up and down the main road, motioned to the
others, and they sprinted across, dropping into the ditch on the other
side. Then they slipped down the steep slope toward the power house
below the dam. The grass grew high here, and they were able to pile up
the dynamite and other equipment not far from the big pipe-line. Then
Max and Dick climbed up to the road again.
“All right, now, Max,” Dick said. “I’ll cut around below the power
house and cross to the other side of the dam. Give me about three
minutes’ head start. After that, wait for the next car that comes
along. Just after it passes walk down this little drive toward the dam
wall. The sentries are likely to think you got out of the car they
heard. But don’t give them a chance to think much. Bawl them out, raise
the devil, call the guards down below at the power house and get them
to come up to you. Then you’ll have them all together when I open fire.
I’ll be back in the woods on the other side of the lake. I’ll be able
to see, by the lights near that little building on the dam wall, when
you have them all around you. I’ll give a good burst on the gun and
then light out as fast as I can. You send them after me.”
“Okay, Dick,” Max said. “I’ll do my best. And I’ll follow behind them
too, to keep them looking for you. I’ll give Slade and Vince a full
half-hour, longer if possible.”
Dick went quickly down the hill, alongside the road. He ducked into the
ditch when a row of big trucks raced by, toward Maletta. Finally he
left the roadside and cut down into the valley, about a quarter of a
mile below the power house. He made his way across the trickling brook
which was almost dry now that the water gates were shut. Then he headed
up toward the dam again on the other side.
Vince and Slade were hiding by their supplies in the tall grass. They
saw three sentries around the power house, five more pacing the dam
wall. They would be able to see when Max walked out there, acting like
a Nazi.
The wait seemed interminable. Then they heard a car go by on the road
above them, and there was Max, striding vigorously out on to the dam
wall. The nearest sentry snapped to attention and saluted, muttering a
command back to the others as he did so. They all came to attention,
and Max started bellowing orders.
Vince and Slade could not understand him, but they smiled at each other
over the rough sound of Max’s voice. And it was obvious that the
sentries were pretty scared. One of them jumped to the door of the
little building and out came two more guards, hurriedly buttoning their
jackets. At this sight, Max seemed to fly into a rage, and he slapped
both the men hard across their faces. Then he called to the men farther
along on the dam and they raced forward, snapped to attention in front
of Max, and saluted.
Vince shot a glance at the sentries around the power house. They were
staring up toward the wall, and whispering to each other. At that
moment, Max looked down at them and bellowed an order that sounded so
severe it almost made Slade quake in his boots. The three power-house
sentries ran forward, climbed the steel ladder that led up to the dam
and stood at attention before Max.
“He’s got ’em all lined up,” Vince whispered. “Every one of ’em. It’s
going to work.”
“Right,” Slade said, “and I’ve got our hatch in the pipe-line picked
out.”
Then they heard Dick’s automatic firing from across the lake. The
sentries on the dam were already so scared that they almost jumped off
when they heard the sound. After all, one man in the power house had
been shot that afternoon for neglect and carelessness, and by the very
Gestapo officer, they thought, who now stood before them.
Max rasped out another order, and the sentries started running across
the dam wall to the other side of the lake, with Max on their heels. In
a flash Slade and Vince were out of the tall grass, running forward
toward the pipe-lines, each with a heavy load. Slade took a wrench from
his pocket and started work on the hatch opening in the pipe while
Vince ran back for another load of material. By the time he returned,
Slade had the door open and was boosting himself inside.
Vince handed up one big bundle to Slade, who disappeared with it inside
the pipe. Then Vince kept his eyes sweeping over the surrounding land,
looking for any sign that someone might approach. Inside the big pipe,
Slade was struggling up the sloping steel shaft toward the dam wall. He
slipped, he fell, but he picked himself up again and pushed forward. It
took him five minutes to reach the end of the pipe, where the
water-gate of the dam stopped him. Here he set down his load, turned,
and slid down the pipe to the opening, dousing his flashlight before he
got there.
Vince was ready for him with the next bundle. This was even heavier,
and it took Slade almost ten minutes to get it in position. When he
slid down again, one hand was cut and his knees were badly skinned, but
he grabbed the coil of wire which Vince handed him and started up again.
Meanwhile, after firing his shots over the lake, Dick had run full
speed toward the west, back toward the dam. He had to get past the dam
wall before the sentries came racing from it. He heard their pounding
feet close at hand just as he slid into a clump of low bushes just
below the dam wall. He could hear Max roaring out his orders and he
knew that the supposed colonel was ordering the sentries to go to the
right, up along the lake, in search of the man who had fired the shots.
They all obeyed without question, and then Dick slipped away from the
bushes, went down the hill alongside the stream, crossed over, and cut
back up to the spot beside the power house at which he had left Vince
and Slade.
He smiled as he saw that the hatch door was open in the pipe-line, with
Vince standing guard beside it. He whistled a signal and stepped
forward out of the tall grass.
“He’s hooking up the wire now,” Vince whispered to him. “Ought to be
down in a minute.”
And then Slade, appearing at the opening, leaped to the ground. He had
the coil of wire over his arm and was letting it out as he moved away
from the dynamite charge at the base of the dam gates. He nodded
briefly to Dick, then closed the hatch door, but not so tight that it
would cut through the wire. He stepped back toward the tall grass
swiftly, still paying out his wire.
Dick and Vince followed him, helping him up the steep slope toward the
road. He was heading for a culvert which passed under the road about
fifty feet west of the little driveway to the dam wall. He did not even
pause as he ducked low and started crawling through the culvert. Dick
went up on the road, scurried across and got at the other end of the
opening. He could barely see Slade’s flashlight as he made his way
through the small tunnel.
After he was through, Vince came across and joined them, and then they
made their way up the hill on the other side of the road, into the
thick trees.
“Here,” Slade said, panting, “this will be the place. Vince, go get the
detonator.”
“I’ll go with you,” Dick said. “I want to get my own stuff, too.”
While Slade sat down to rest, Dick and Vince went back across the road,
into the tall grass where they had first put their heavy bundles. There
were two detonators, a box of fuses, a length of wire, and one big box
of dynamite. They picked them up and hurried back to join Slade. When
they reached him again, they were all exhausted, but happy. There was
still no sign of Max or his sentries, who were busy, apparently,
chasing through the woods on the other side of the dam and lake.
They sat and waited, secure in the knowledge that now the dam would
really be blown up. The charge was laid, the fuses set, the wire hooked
up. At the proper moment Slade would just have to push down a plunger,
and the dam would be ruined, flood waters would roar down into the
valley below, engulfing the German forces and their mighty armored
equipment.
Meanwhile, in the country around the town of Maletta, there were many
strange sights. Since dark, Italian families had been starting out for
short strolls, strolls that led down side streets and then up paths
into the wooded hills. They took different streets, different roads,
and they walked slowly, casually, whistling or humming songs as they
walked. Some carried bundles, and some even took their babies out, when
they should have been in their cribs asleep.
But only a few of the Germans seemed to notice. Most of them were too
busy to see anything like Italians taking a stroll. An aide did mention
to the Gestapo colonel that there seemed to be an unusual number of
Italians out on the streets that evening, but the colonel was in no
mood to listen. He had just discovered one of his newest uniforms to be
missing and he was berating an orderly with its loss. Moreover, he had
still not located that illegal radio, and his commanding officer had
ordered him to appear before him the next day with a full explanation.
Far into the night the imperceptible exodus of Italians from the town
went on, and nobody said a word. Tomorrow the Germans expected the big
smashing attack from the Americans who were now only ten miles below
Maletta.
Another wanderer on those hills was Dick Donnelly. He carried a coil of
wire over his shoulder, a box of dynamite in one hand, and a detonator
in the other. Vince had begged to be allowed to go with him, but Dick
would not listen.
“This is my own private venture,” he said, “this blowing up of the
road. I’ll endanger my own life in it, but nobody else’s. The dam is
the important thing. You stay here with Slade and Max until it is all
over, then head back for the cave fast.”
Max had reappeared just before Dick left. After three-quarters of an
hour hunting some fugitive in the woods, he led his sentries back to
the dam. And he was fuming. He let forth a stream of abuse that would
have made the real Colonel Klage envious. He blamed everything that had
gone wrong in the war on those sentries, threatened to have them up for
punishment the next day.
He gave a final order for them all to stay on the dam wall the rest of
the night, and to keep their eyes constantly on the other side of the
lake. Then he stalked away. The sentries were lined up like wooden
Indians, facing the other direction. They couldn’t have seen as far as
the main road anyway, to see that Max just ducked across it into the
woods above, but they didn’t even dare try to see.
Max was proud and happy. “I ran the legs off those guys,” he said. “And
it did me good to hit a couple of them, too. They like to go around
doing that kind of thing to people who can’t hit back. I wonder how
they liked a taste of their own medicine.”
Dick told Max what a fine job he had done, but the big soldier just
said, “I guess I’ll go in for acting after I get out of the Army. It’s
fun.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ZERO HOUR
Tony Avella was nearing the end of his long vigil in the top of the
bell tower. He was feeling restless, cramped, and uneasy. He kept
telling himself that this radio job was just as important as any of the
rest of it, but it did not make him feel any better about having to
spend almost a whole week in that cramped space, hot in the day, cold
at night, with a stone floor beneath him. Most of the time he had
nothing whatever to do, and he had covered the floor with scratches
playing tick-tack-toe with himself.
But now the end was approaching. It had been some time since he’d heard
about the latest plans, but he knew that the dam was scheduled to go up
at exactly five-thirty A.M. And he thought that Dick was going to try
to get around to the northwest road to blow it up at the same time.
“At any rate, I’ve got box seats for the whole affair,” he told
himself. “I’ll be able to see both explosions from here. But I can’t
wait around very long after that.”
Although there was still a half-hour to wait, he sat down beside his
radio and felt for the cranks of the generator. He put on the earphones
and took them off, adjusted the microphone before his mouth and then
moved it a half inch further away. Then it was time to look at his
watch again, the watch that he felt sure must be running down.
“Wonder where Dick is now,” he said to himself.
Dick was almost as nervous as Tony. He sat behind a huge boulder above
the northwest road where it was cut into the side of the hill. He had
laid his charge just where Slade showed him, and hooked up the fuses
and wire. Now he sat waiting beside the plunger box for five-thirty to
come.
“I hope everything’s still okay at the dam,” he muttered to himself.
Except for nervousness again, everything was all right there. Max and
Slade and Vince sat on the side of the hill, looking at their watches,
laughing about the sentries who still stood on the dam wall, looking at
their watches again.
“Scotti must be kind of lonesome,” Vince said.
Lieutenant Scotti was _very_ lonesome. The night had been particularly
long for him, with nothing whatever to do, without any way of knowing
how the affair at the dam had gone. He looked at his watch.
“Pretty soon I’ll hear it,” he said to himself. “Then I’ll know the
answer. And Tony will flash word to headquarters at once.”
At that moment Tony was beginning to turn the crank on the generator.
He got it going at a steady pace and kept it going easily. Then he
turned a switch, looked at his watch. Any minute now—
He jumped, when it finally did come, after all those hours of waiting.
A great roar to the east. He saw a flash, saw black smoke against the
sky that was beginning to be gray, felt the earth tremble a little, and
then heard the booming roar go echoing through the hills.
But—was that an echo? No, it was another roar, though not so loud, from
the west. Looking quickly, he saw a cloud of smoke and dust rising from
the northwest road.
“Julius Caesar to Mark Antony!” he cried into the microphone. And he
got the answer back right away, “Mark Antony to Julius Caesar. Come in.”
He did not bother with code. He was not going to say anything that the
Germans wouldn’t know in two minutes anyway.
“Dam blown up at five-thirty on the dot,” he said swiftly. “Northwest
road ditto one minute later. Repeat.”
The man at the other end repeated the news once, and Tony was on his
feet. He tossed the headphones and microphone to the floor, threw the
rope out the opening and let himself over the ledge. Sliding down it
like a streak of lightning, his feet hit the roof of the wing, and he
ran in a crouch to the rear. He leaped to the ground and stumbled—into
Tomaso’s arms.
“Uncle Tomaso,” he cried. “Why aren’t you in the hills?”
“I couldn’t go and leave you here, Tony,” the old man said. “I had to
make sure that you were safe.”
“Come with me, fast,” Tony said. “We have to hurry to get across the
road before the water is too deep.”
They took off through the trees, not bothering to hide themselves too
carefully. They could hear the shouts from men in front of the villa,
the firing of a few guns, the sound of motorcar engines roaring to
life. Everyone would be too busy to notice them.
“Dick’s got even further to go than we have,” Tony said, as he trotted
beside the old man, who could not move very quickly. “I wonder if he
can make it.”
Dick had known that it would not be easy for him to get back to the
cave after blowing up the road. It had been a great thrill for him to
see the hillside go sliding down across the highway, obliterating it
completely for a stretch of a quarter of a mile. But he had lost his
own footing and gone rolling down the hill too. Before he caught
himself, he was almost at the road, and there, just in front of him,
was a German motorcycle messenger pulling up to a screaming stop in
front of the mass of rocks that blocked his way.
Dick did not hesitate for an instant. He snatched his automatic from
his pocket, fired, and watched the man topple to the ground.
“I’m afraid I’m a little too excited to be a good shot,” he told
himself critically. “I believe I just winged him in the shoulder.”
But that was enough for Dick’s purpose. He pulled up the man’s
motorcycle, turned it around, started it, and headed straight down the
main highway for Maletta. He roared down the main street at forty miles
an hour, swerving in and out among the cars, the trucks, the running
soldiers with half their clothes on. The sight of such panic made him
laugh with pleasure, and everything was in such a turmoil that he was
able to race right through the heart of town without being noticed
except as a nuisance that got in someone’s way.
“They don’t even know, half of them, what’s happened yet,” he told
himself as he sped out again on the northeast road. “But they’ll know
mighty soon,” he added, “for there comes the water.”
His motorcycle wheels were already running in water an inch deep. Then
it was six inches, eight inches, ten inches. Ahead he saw it boiling
down at him like a solid wall, and he leaped from the motorcycle and
cut into the fields. The mud and water slowed him down but he raced
ahead as fast as he could. Another fifty feet, another thirty! The
water was around his knees. Twenty feet—ten feet to go to high
ground—and the water was around his waist. And then he made it. He
grabbed the trunk of a sapling and pulled himself up the slope. Then he
sat down, panting heavily. But in another minute his feet were in the
steadily rising water, and he pulled himself up again.
“Anyway,” he told himself, “I know the dam really went out. It’s not
just cracked and leaking.”
Breathing a little more easily, he got up and started up the hill
toward the cave. Halfway up he heard the firing of guns. The sound came
from the cave without a doubt. He ran forward, circling around to come
at the cave from above if possible. He figured that he must be just a
little above the cave entrance when he heard another burst of fire and
heard a bullet _zing_ through the branches overhead. He dropped to the
ground and edged his way down the slope on his belly, keeping behind
trees as much as possible. He knew there was a big tree growing out of
a split rock just above the cave entrance. If only he could get to that—
“Scotti must be alone in there,” he said. “And—yes, I can see
them—they’re German soldiers who have come racing up the hill to get
away from the flood waters. They probably would have run smack into the
cave by accident if Scotti hadn’t fired to keep them off. I’ve got to
get down to him.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _Dick Stopped Behind a Tree and Waited_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
After each burst of fire from the German guns he made his way forward
another few feet, keeping always behind tree trunks. Finally he reached
the great tree just above the cave entrance. Then he waited again.
There was another heavy exchange of fire and a lull. With one leap,
Dick flew down from above, hit the ground and fell on Scotti’s gun just
as he was about to pull the trigger.
“Dick!” he cried. “I almost plugged you!”
“I didn’t give you a chance,” Dick said. He crouched low as a hail of
bullets spat against the side of the hill all around the cave. He
snatched up one of the machine guns by Scotti’s side and returned the
fire.
“We can hold ’em off for a long time,” Dick said. “We’ve got a lot of
ammunition.”
“Until they think to circle up in back the way you did,” Scotti said.
“Dick, you’re a fool to have come back here. I’m done for, anyway, but
you can get away. Our men must be right over the crest of the hill. You
can get up to them all right.”
“Nothing doing,” Dick said. “I’m sticking with you.”
“That’s plain suicide!” Scotti fumed. “As your superior officer I order
you to leave.”
Dick just laughed as they both gave another burst of fire toward the
Germans who continued their forward creeping toward the entrance of the
cave.
“You’re not my superior officer, right now,” he said to Scotti. “You’re
completely incapacitated and I’m acting commander of this outfit and
you know it. You told me so yourself. So I order Sergeant Dick Donnelly
to stay right here and keep shooting German soldiers.”
There was no more fire from the enemy, however. A long pause followed,
and Dick and Scotti glanced at each other wonderingly.
“You know what that means,” Scotti said.
“I’m afraid so,” Dick replied. “They’ve sent some men up to come in
from above, the way I did.”
“Help me to the back of the cave,” Scotti said. “We can plug them as
they try to come in. At least we can get them before they get a bead on
us. They can’t see clear in to the back.”