Thank you to everybody still reading and supporting this story. It is greatly appreciated. Now what is Mosby up to? Enjoy. Cathy

Raiders Folly

Chapter 11

Despite the appetizing smells wafting from the bowls of thick soup and fresh bread set in front of each man, Garrison, Casino and Goniff found they had no stomach for the repast set before them by the kindly French woman. Casey had tried to eat but he had given up after only a couple of mouthfuls. Davies had faired slightly better, managing to finish half a bowl of soup before he too pushed the bowl towards the centre of the table. Now the eyes of the five men were drawn to the closed door down the hall.

Casino stood abruptly; causing the chair he was seated on to tip over and hit the floor with a resounding crash. "I need some air," he stated hoarsely as more retching and gagging could be heard coming from the room.

Goniff looked guiltily towards Garrison before he pushed back his own chair and stood. "Think I'll join you mate."

Casey watched the two Gorillas move towards the door. "Sarge?" he queried quietly.

Davies nodded, "Go on Casey there's nothing you can do here at the moment."

Casey sighed in relief, "Thanks Sarge," He responded before he all but bolted towards the door and the relative quiet of the outdoors.

Davies turned back to Garrison. The man looked haggard and guilty but then he supposed they all looked much the same but for varying reasons. He watched as the doctor's wife, Madame Theroux stepped from the room carrying a bowl, the contents of which he knew would be disposed of amongst the trees behind the house, like the others before it. The sounds of a hacking cough and loud gasps could be heard for a few seconds before their harshness was muted by the closed door. Davies sighed, not one of them, including his missing teammates, the injured Indian and the rest of the Gorillas was entirely innocent in regards to the scene playing out behind the closed door.

Mosby had set the whole debacle into motion with his bigoted views and quest to prove that the Raiders were the best team and in no need of assistance to complete any mission.

And then Blake and Brown exacerbated the problem by carrying out Mosby's orders to immobilize the Indian. Of course the fact that Durrant and he, himself, had not done nearly enough to stop the kidnapping and beating was a burden they would shoulder for quite some time to come.

Then there was Casino. He had, at the very least suspected that Chief was more injured than the Indian was letting on and yet he had chosen to accept his team mates guarantee that he was alright.

Davies sighed, even Actor had confirmed that he thought something was wrong with Chief but he had not followed through with his feelings until it was too late.

Goniff seemed to be the only one not really aware of Chief's physical state until it had become clear. His guilt, not withstanding the threat to his own life had he refused, was that he had been forced to follow Mosby's orders and abandon his team mates at the munitions factory.

Of course Chief had a lot to answer for, himself. Granted, he may not have realized the ribs were broken but he still failed to inform his CO that he had been injured. He had chosen to keep quiet and continue with the mission regardless of the consequences to himself, the rest of team and the outcome of the mission.

Then of course there was Garrison.

Davies knew the LT was, rightly or wrongly feeling the most guilt over their present situation and accepting all the blame for the outcome. He was in charge. He was ultimately responsible for the well being of his men. He was responsible for the success or failure of the mission. In his eyes the success of the mission had come at too high a price. He had been too preoccupied with its success to correctly interpret the well hidden warning signs that one of his men was injured. The very man he had sent to rescue the men who had injured him in the first place.

"Don't be too hard on them or yourself LT," Davies offered quietly. "We all have a hand in the blame for what's happened to Chief, including Chief himself. Anyone of us, perhaps with the exception of Goniff, had ample opportunity to voice our concerns about Chief's fitness to continue this mission and none of us chose to act."

Garrison shook his head, "You're wrong Sergeant. Whether any of you said anything or not, I should have seen what was right in front of my eyes." Garrison raked a hand through his hair. "Hell, I did see what was in front of me, I just chose to put the mission ahead of what was obvious, thinking I could deal with it later. The mission, the team, even you and Durrant are my responsibility and I let you all down."

"You didn't let Casey or me down LT." Davies stated quietly. "I haven't had a CO that cared this much since my LT was killed in North Africa and Casey has only ever known Mosby. It's good for him to see what a real CO is like."

Garrison snorted, "I don't feel like a real CO at the moment Davies."

Davies nodded towards the closed door, choosing not to try and argue the point with Garrison. "He'll be alright you know. He's strong, he has to be to have gotten this far and now that the doc's with him, he'll pull through. I remember my father sounded like Chief when he had pneumonia and he pulled through."

Garrison glanced towards the door down the hall, realizing for the first time that the sounds of retching and coughing had quieted and Madame Theroux had not made an appearance for some time. "But your father wasn't stuck in a safe house in occupied France, hiding from the Krauts."

This time it was Davies' turn to snort. "No, he was hiding in our still shed in the backwoods of Virginia from the Prohibition Police at the time."

Garrison's head snapped up and he stared at Davies wide grin for a full minute before he broke into a laugh. Davies chuckled and then laughed himself.

Actor stood under the arch leading up the hallway to Chief's room and watched the two men at the table laughing. He felt a momentary pang of annoyance that the men could find something to laugh about in the current situation but it quickly passed as he realized it was just what Garrison needed to relieve the tension. Actor stepped quietly into the room as the laughter turned to chuckles. "I hope you will see fit to include me in the joke next time."

Garrison sprang to his feet and turned to look at his second in command. The man looked exhausted and just a little green around the gills. "How's Chief?" He demanded without preamble.

Actor nodded tiredly. The last hour had been exhausting. He didn't like the feeling of helplessness that had come over him as he watched Chief struggling to breathe and cough up the poison clogging his lungs. "Doing a little better Craig; Marcel made a steam tent for him to help loosen the congestion in his lungs. He wants to repeat the treatment in a few hours."

Garrison grimaced at the thought of having to listen to the past hours agony again. "What about his ribs and the fever?"

"The ribs were broken, as we suspected. Marcel has strapped them and given him another dose of both the penicillin and morphine. The fever is from the pneumonia. The penicillin should start taking effect soon and the fever should drop. Chief is sleeping at the moment, which is exactly what he badly needs."

"How soon can we get out of here Actor? Did the doctor tell you that?"

Actor shrugged, "At least twenty four if not thirty six hours Craig. Chief is very weak at the moment. He needs some time to regain at least some of his strength."

Garrison dropped back into his chair with a sigh of part relief and part frustration. He was pleased that Chief was doing better but frustrated at the fact that they were stuck in
France for another day at the very least and maybe longer while Mosby was back in London spinning his web of lies.

"Well I think I'll go and let the boys know that Chief is doing better." Davies stated as he rose from his chair and headed towards the door.

Garrison nodded his silent acknowledgment before dropping his head into his hands.

GG

Richards steeled himself for the coming conversation with Mosby. He had received word that the three surviving Raiders had arrived back in England and were on route to his office via the base hospital. According to the reports the wound to Corporal Blake's arm was not serious and would not require a hospital stay, which of itself begged the question as to why Mosby and his men made no effort to locate Garrison and his team. Of course, Richards knew first hand what an injury in the field could mean and how easy it was to panic and loose sight of what was required when worry for the injured took over. However, Mosby was a seasoned commander, daring and imaginative in how he completed his missions, even if a little bloodthirsty for his liking but certainly not prone to fits of panic. Richards sighed, dropping his elbows onto his desk, resting his chin on his laced fingers. He couldn't put his finger on it but something just didn't add up with the reports he was receiving. Richards slumped back against his chair. Hopefully he would have answers to those nagging questions in the next half hour.

GG

Garrison hadn't been aware that he had drifted to sleep until a gentle nudged of his shoulder woke him with a start. He blinked several times before stretching stiffened back muscles. Sleeping in the hard wooden chair with his head resting on his arms a top the dining table was not conducive to a restful or comfortable sleep. "Pierre," Garrison mumbled before his eyes darted around the otherwise empty room.

"Do not worry Lieutenant; your men are resting in the back room." Pierre advised as he watched the blues eyes searching the room. "They told me not to disturb you but my father wishes to speak with you."

Garrison shook his head, "I shouldn't have fallen asleep. What about Chief?" He asked, suddenly realizing that the house was in silence. He could no longer here the faint moans and coughs coming from his wheel man.

"You needed the rest Monsieur."

Garrison's head snapped around as he realized for the first time that a second man had entered the room. He scrubbed his hands across his face. He was supposed to be on guard duty, wasn't he? For that matter he couldn't even remember if he had set a guard detail. He must have though, or he wouldn't be sitting here alone in the kitchen would he? Garrison sighed, great guard, he thought ruefully, sleeping on the job. If the others heard about it they'd never let him live it down. Forcing his body to sit a little straighter, he studied the newcomer with some interest. He was a tall, thick set man with the body of someone used to hard physical labour but with the pale complexion of one who spent most of his waking hours indoors. Judging by the amount of grey streaking the dark brown hair, Garrison estimated the man to be in his mid to late fifties. The eyes were dark and haunted, indicative of a man who had seen too much pain and suffering.

"I am Rui Giron, head of the resistance in this area Lieutenant Garrison. My son Pierre has told me what happened. Before I contact London though Lieutenant I need to know if your mission to recover the plans was successful or not."

Garrison nodded. "We recovered the plans."

"That is good Lieutenant. I will let London know immediately of your safe arrival and the completion of the mission. My brother-in-law Marcel tells me your injured man is doing better and is resting comfortably at present."

Garrison allowed his shoulders to slump in relief at the news. He had not allowed his eyes to wander to the closed door up the hall, fearful of what the deafening silence could mean for Chief. "How soon before you can arrange transport to take us to the coast Monsieur Giron?

"Not before tomorrow night Lieutenant. Your man is not well enough to travel yet but do not worry, you and your men will be safe here until it is time to travel. Now what would you like me to say in my message to London?"

GG

Mosby shrugged. "That's it Major Richards, we blew the munitions factory as planned and then made our way to the rendezvous and waited the agreed two hours for Garrison and his team to show up. When they didn't we left and proceeded on, met up with the resistance in Cambrai, there was a doctor there who treated Jimmy's arm then they helped us get to Calais where we met the sub.

Richards lent forward in his chair and steepled his fingers on the desk in front of him. They had been at this for well over two hours. Blake and Brown had said much the same thing when he had spoken to each of them. He was tired and just a little bit suspicious of the story he was hearing although he wasn't sure why. What he had heard was certainly plausible but he just couldn't get past the sticking point that this was Garrison's team that was missing. They were missing and he was missing some vital piece of information. "So you're telling me Captain Mosby, that you made no attempt what so ever to locate not only Lieutenant Garrison and his men but also two of your own men as well."

Mosby straightened in his seat. "Sir the munitions factory was fully engulfed in flames when we left. Both Davies and Durrant were following us to the truck. None of us saw what happened to them, they just weren't there when I turned around to help Jimmy into the truck. I didn't leave them by choice Major Richards but I had an injured man to think of. As for Garrison," Mosby shrugged, "He's responsible for his own team. We were to make our separate ways to the coast and the sub and that's exactly what I did Sir."

"Harrumph. Tell me again how Corporal Blake came to be injured and how you escaped from the Germans please Captain Mosby." Richards ordered.

"With respect Sir," Mosby emphasized the sir, which brought a raised eyebrow to Richards' countenance, "We have been over this twice already. My telling it again won't change anything."

"Humour me Captain Mosby, I like to be humoured from time to time."

Mosby sighed in annoyance. "We were separated after we jumped. The wind blew Davies off course so he wasn't with us when we landed. A German patrol was in the vicinity, they saw us and fired. That's when Jimmy was injured but before the Krauts could capture us, Davies appeared behind them and started firing. We managed to escape, hid in the woods at the back of the factory until it was time to set the charges."

"And then what happened, Captain?"

"At the designated time we blew the factory and made good our escape."

"Leaving behind Private Durrant and Sergeant Davies," Richards exploded, "The very man who you have just told me effected your escape from a German patrol not hours earlier."

Before Mosby could reply there was a sharp rap on the closed door of the office followed by Richards' aide, Featherston, entering. He watched as the man marched across the office, handed the major a piece of white paper, saluted smartly, turned on his heel and retraced his steps without uttering a single word.

Richards unfolded the paper and glanced at the words written on it.

All safe.

It took all of Richards' will power not to show his emotions as he read the remainder of the message. Actor would be proud of his performance, he thought ruefully.

Mosby deserted team.

Missing Raiders alive.

Chief injured, unable to travel for at least twenty four hours.

Resistance arranging new travel plans.

Mission completed.

Richards swallowed hard, fighting to contain his anger as he lifted his eyes from the paper to meet those of the man sitting across from him. "You were saying Captain Mosby," Richards prompted.

Mosby shrugged, "I don't know what happened. One minute they were behind us, the next they were gone."

"And you made no effort to locate them." Richards stated.

"We didn't have time; the factory was exploding around us and the fire was out of control. There were Krauts everywhere and I had Jimmy to consider. He was injured and in need of medical attention. There was nothing else I could do."

"So what you are telling me Captain; is that you left two of your men to the mercy of the Germans. You deserted them."

Mosby clenched his jaw and balled his fists resting in his lap. Who the hell did Richards think he was, questioning his decision? When did Richards ever spend any time in the field? When was the last time anybody took a shot at him? "I had no choice Major Richards. Sacrificing myself and the rest of the team was not an option. Surely you can understand and appreciate that, Sir."

Richard's regarded Mosby silently for several minutes, inwardly pleased to see the man begin to squirm under his relentless gaze. Choosing not to respond to Mosby words, Richards changed the direction of the questioning. "What about Garrison and his team?"

Mosby glared at the major. "What about the great Craig Garrison and his cons?" Mosby snapped. "I'm not his keeper and I sure as hell am not responsible for that bunch of thugs. He had his mission and I had mine. If they fouled it up it isn't my problem. I carried out my mission successfully and returned to England with my team as ordered."

Richards eyed the man with contempt. "Half your team," He corrected. "Two of your men are missing."