Summary: Hogan and Kinch enter the underground rocket facility, while Carter works his magic with explosives topside. Meanwhile, the other heroes receive bad news.
Disclaimer: See Part 1
Copyright November 2001****
Just Another Missionby Syl Francis
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"...A man...ought not to calculate the chance of living or dying; he ought only to consider whether he is doing right or wrong." (Socrates)
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Friday 18 AUG 1944/0000hrs localTunnel under Barracks #2, LuftStalag 13
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Annoyed, Baker glared as Olsen paced, twelve steps in one direction, twelve steps back.
"Will you sit down?" he complained. "You're driving me nuts!"
"I can't help it! This waitin's killing me, man! Why couldn't the C.O. have let us go with 'em?"
Baker shrugged. "You know the colonel. He always has a reason for everything."
"Yeah, I know that all right." Olsen's voice took on a bitter note. He sat down abruptly. "He doesn't trust us, that's why!"
"Olsen, you're barking up the wrong tree," Baker snapped back. "Man, I don't get you. You knew the colonel from before--being on his flight crew and all. Haven't you learned anything?"
"What d'you mean?"
"I mean the fact that he briefed us on tonight's mission--let us in on the contingency plan. He not only trusts us, he expects us to carry on if there's a snafu tonight. And he doesn't come back."
Olsen thought about Hogan and the others. Not come back? The C.O. not able to think himself out of a problem? The thought had never occurred to him.
Jumping to his feet, he shook his head in denial and pointed accusingly at his friend. "Now who's barking up the wrong tree?" he asked hotly. "There isn't a Kraut alive who could ever stand up to the colonel--"
At this moment, the telegraph key began clattering. Baker was instantly alert, his pencil virtually flying across his notepad. Almost as soon as the metallic clicking began, it ended.
Baker looked at Olsen. "That was Goldilocks. Humpty-Dumpty reported all Green at H-Hour."
"Then, I guess that's it, huh?" Olsen asked. "The jump must've been a success, right?"
Baker nodded, thoughtfully. "Yeah, man...I guess that--"
The metallic clicking started again.
The two men exchanged startled glances. Baker again reached for his pencil, and started transcribing the message, when he went suddenly still.
"Baker? Baker what is it?" Olsen asked. "Baker...?"
Baker looked up, his dark eyes stricken. "At H-Hour plus two minutes...Humpty-Dumpty reported heavy fire coming from the target area." He struggled to keep going. "The commandoes were cut down before they even hit the ground--a regular turkey shoot." He covered his eyes momentarily and after a while reached for the mike.
"Just like the colonel said..." Olsen whispered. Noticing that Baker was changing frequencies on the transmitter asked, "What are you doing?"
"Calling Newkirk and LeBeau," Baker answered, his tone grim. "They gotta be told."
Nodding, Olsen turned away, stunned by the news. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Baker calling.
"White Rabbit, this is Papa Bear...Come in, White Rabbit..."
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Friday 18 AUG 1944/0005hrs localWoods outside the Tauberbischofsheim Rocket Facility
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The dog leaped over the thick brush and almost into Kinchloe's lap. Without hesitation, Hogan fired twice, the Luger spitting out ~phffft! phffft!~
The dog crumpled, deathly still.
The guards meanwhile were running in the dog's wake and smashed into the thicket. Carter and Kinchloe simultaneously leaped to their feet and struck out hard with the butts of their Schmeissers. Both guards went down without a sound. Wordlessly, the Americans tied and gagged them.
Hogan stared at the dog, his expression unreadable, the only sign of emotion a muscle in his cheek, which jumped suddenly. Turning away, he found some loose brush lying around and covered the dead animal. When he finally looked up, he saw that the others had dragged their unconscious prisoners underneath some thick shrubbery.
Jerking his thumb at them to follow him, they emerged from the woods, one by one. Seeing another patrol approach, Kinchloe and Carter immediately snapped to attention, while Hogan gesticulated and shouted in his best, arrogant SS officer voice. Thus, when the passing patrol got within hearing distance, they received an earful.
"~And how many times must you Dumkopfs be reminded to always challenge people you do not know--I would not care if it were Himmler himself! If you do not know them on sight, then you must ask for proper identification! Do you understand?~"
"Jahwohl, Herr Oberst!" Kinchloe and Carter replied. Peripherally, Hogan saw that the guards were less than two meters away. He hoped that the dim moonlight would not allow them to get a good look at his face. Thankfully, Carter and Kinchloe's backs were to them.
As the German soldiers passed in front of him, the NCO in charge sharply saluted him. Hogan automatically returned the salute, and then waited for the patrol to march past.
"Let's go," he muttered. "Heil Hitler!" The three Americans all exchanged the Nazi straight-arm salute and stiffly fell in step. Eyes forward, they approached the bridge sentry. Kinchloe's helmet was low over his eyes, his dark complexion hopefully hidden in the shadows. To distract the guard, Hogan stepped forward and saluted him.
The sentry stiffly returned the salute, clicking his heels and snapping to attention.
"~I wish to escort these two Dumkopfs to their commanding officer!~" Hogan explained. "~I caught them shirking their duty!~" He pulled out a sheaf of papers from his breast pocket, and clicking his heels, presented them to the sentry.
"~I am Oberst Hoganhoffman, SS Security. I was ordered here to check on the status of the facility's security measures. My first task was to test the outer perimeter guards. These two men have never before laid eyes on me, and yet, when I approached them, they did not even challenge me--unlike you, of course, Corporal--? What is your name?~"
"~Corporal Schwimmer, Mein Herr!~"
"~Well, Corporal Schwimmer, may I congratulate you on doing a fine job? Yes, a fine job. I promise you that your name will figure prominently in my report to Headquarters.~"
"Danke, Herr Oberst!" Schwmimmer seemed to grow another inch.
"Nein, Corporal Schwmimmer!" Hogan replied. "~It is you whom I should thank. With crack soldiers like you fighting for our glorious cause, our Thousand Year Reich will never fall! Heil Hitler!~"
"Heil Hitler!" Schwmimmer saluted proudly.
****
Friday 18 AUG 1944/0010hrs localAbandoned farmhouse, northeast of Mutlangen
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"We copy, Papa Bear," LeBeau replied dully. "White Rabbit, out." He replaced the walkie-talkie into its carrying case and sat back heavily, feeling indescribably tired.
"Well, that's just bloody charming," Newkirk said coldly. Cursing out loud, he picked up a dusty plate that had been left behind by the farmhouse's previous occupants and threw it against the wall with all the force he could muster.
"Those poor blokes never stood a bloody chance! The colonel warned HQ that this might happen! But would they listen?" He glared at Wilson and LeBeau. "Like bloody Hell!"
He spun on his heel and stomped outside, slamming the door behind him. Wilson and LeBeau stood in the dark without speaking. LeBeau's thoughts were with the men who'd lost their lives that night, turned to his three friends who were at this moment risking theirs, and finally returned to his friend who at this moment was mourning the loss of so many of his countrymen.
"What do we do now?" Wilson finally asked.
"We wait." His back against the wall, LeBeau slowly slid down to the floor. "We wait until the appointed rendezvous hour." He stared unseeing at the closed door. "Just in case..."
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Friday 18 AUG 1944/0015hrs localOutside the Tauberbischofsheim Rocket Facility
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Hogan snapped off a salute and handed the door sentry his papers. The sentry first checked the papers and then each man in turn. When he turned to Kinchloe, Hogan chopped down, striking him on the base of the neck. Before he could fall down, Hogan and Kinchloe quickly propped him up against the wall, as close to the shadows as possible.
"Carter!" Hogan hissed. "Go!"
Kinchloe handed Carter the canvas bags he'd been carrying, and taking them, Carter struggled under their combined weight. However, he managed to keep his feet as he stumbled towards the rocket fuel depot.
Hogan slung two of the canvas bags over his shoulder, while Kinchloe took one and his tool case.
"Let's go," Hogan ordered. He opened the door leading into the underground facility and quickly checked to make sure it was all clear. Nodding, he headed inside, Kinchloe at his heels.
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Friday 18 AUG 1944/0045hrs localOutside the Tauberbischofsheim Rocket Facility
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Keeping to the shadows, Carter worked his way stealthily to the large storage bins. In the silence of the night, he could hear boots crunching on the gravely ground as the patrols passed by. On occasion he caught a dog's snarling bark outside the fence perimeter.
Finding a spot from where he could observe without being seen, he decided to watch for a few minutes, until he felt it safe to proceed. In less than a minute, his patience was rewarded.
A squad of SS marched up to the fence that surrounded the fuel depot and stopped at the gate. The NCO in charge took out a set of keys and unlocked the gate.
"Hans! Hans!" The NCO called and waited impatiently for whomever this 'Hans' was. "Hans!" he called again. Immediately, a disheveled-looking private appeared.
Looks like someone's been sleeping on the job, Carter thought with amusement. It was apparent that the NCO thought so, too, because he was instantly screaming at Hans, shoving him into the squad formation. The sergeant pointed at another soldier who promptly fell out of the squad, saluting sharply.
As Carter watched, the squad moved on. He waited a few moments longer until the replacement sentry also disappeared somewhere inside the depot. As soon as he was gone, Carter moved quickly towards the gate. Seeing the rather archaic lock, he took out a 'Newkirk special'--a skeleton key--and carefully placed it inside the lock. Feeling the tumblers click when he turned the key, Carter grinned with childlike glee.
Boy, oh, boy! Wait'll I tell Newkirk!
****
Friday 18 AUG 1944/0045hrs localInside the Tauberbischofsheim Rocket Facility
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Kinchloe followed Hogan, keeping to the shadows afforded by the myriad catwalks that crisscrossed the vast, enclosed space. The place was unbelievably enormous! He'd studied the plans for the Mutlangen site and knew what to expect, but nevertheless the sheer size of the underground facility evoked a reluctant respect for whoever designed it.
He and Hogan had already descended two levels but had yet to run into anyone. Where is everybody? he wondered. A sudden noise ahead warned him that he'd spoken too soon. Hogan held his hand up, signaling Kinchloe to stop. They hurriedly ducked into a shadowy recess along the wall.
As they waited, Kinchloe heard voices approaching--two men laughing and arguing at the same time.
"~She was a dog, Kurt! A real Schnauzer! How could you stand her?~"
"~It is easy for you to say, Erik! The frauleins fall all over you, because they think you look like the American cinema idol, Clark Gable. But a simple soldier such as I...well, I have to take whatever I can get! And besides, in the dark--and after a few beers--all women look alike.~"
"~Ah, but the curse of the morning sun!~" Both men burst out laughing and continued down the catwalk without ever noticing the men lurking in the shadows.
Exchanging rueful glances, Hogan and Kinchloe wordlessly moved on. After a few minutes, they found what they were looking for--the entrance to the main power plant. It was located adjacent to a long corridor that had been blasted smooth. They remained hidden on the catwalk while they studied the problem.
The power plant was kept behind a set of heavy-gauge steel double doors. Posted signs warned of high voltage and that only authorized personnel were permitted entry. From where he stood, Kinchloe could see no immediate way to get inside. As they watched, two men dressed in civilian clothes walked up to the closed doors.
One of the men opened a metal junction box hidden in a wall recess and took out a telephone handset.
"Achtung!" he called. "~This is Dr. Schneider. Dr. Mueller and I are reporting for our shift...~" He listened momentarily. "~Oh, wait--!" He turned to Mueller. "~Mueller, I forgot to check for the countersign. The challenge is 'To do great things is difficult.' Do you know the proper response?~"
Mueller nodded. "~Yes, the countersign is 'But to command great things is more difficult.'~"
Nietzsche! Kinchloe glanced at Hogan and saw that he also recognized the quote. Schneider spoke into the handset and within moments, Kinchloe heard a loud hissing sound and the double doors slid open, allowing the two men to enter. As soon as they were inside, the doors slammed shut once more.
Quickly handing Kinchloe the canvas bags he was carrying, Hogan slowly came out of the shadows. As Kinchloe watched, a squad of SS guards turned the corner headed in their direction.
He whistled a warning, but it was too late! Hogan looked around for a place to hide behind but by then it was obvious that the squad had spotted him. Shooting him an 'Oh, well' look, Hogan's outer demeanor abruptly changed before Kinchloe's eyes.
His normal, easy-going slouch was replaced by a stiff-backed, arrogant carriage. He walked, ramrod-straight towards the double doors. To Kinchloe's immense relief, the squad marched by without challenging his C.O. However, as they passed him, Hogan suddenly called out.
"Halt!"
Kinchloe's heart stopped. He stared, mouth agape. What's he doing?
The sergeant of the guard ordered his squad to halt. He executed a crisp about face and saluted Hogan.
Hands behind his back, Hogan walked slowly towards him. He didn't return the salute, forcing the sergeant to keep his arm straight out before him. Kinchloe strained to hear what his Commanding Officer was saying.
Is he trying to get himself killed? he fumed.
"~Sergeant, do you see these?~" His voice deceptively pleasant, Hogan pointed at his shoulder tabs. The sergeant nervously nodded.
"Jahwohl, Herr Oberst!"
"~That is very good, Sergeant. Very good, indeed.~" Smiling ferally, Hogan inched closer to the hapless NCO. "~The next time you see these tabs, Sergeant, and fail to salute them, you will find yourself on the way to the Eastern Front! Do I make myself clear?!"
"Jahwohl, Herr Oberst!"
Hogan then pointed at the sergeant's weapon, which was slung over his right shoulder. "~Let me see your weapon, Sergeant!~"
As Kinchloe watched, the NCO quickly unslung his rifle, cleared it for inspection, and held it out for Hogan. Kinchloe squeezed his eyes shut, tamping down a growing panic. What does he think he's doing?
His precise movements that of an army drill sergeant, Hogan yanked the weapon from the sergeant's hand, expertly ran his hands up and down its length, and then made a show of inspecting the chamber and peering down the barrel.
"~This weapon is a disgrace, Sergeant! Are your soldiers' weapons as filthy as yours?~"
"Nein, Herr Oberst!" Despite the distance that separated them, Kinchloe could see a distinct sheen of perspiration breaking out upon the hapless NCO's forehead.
"~I find that very difficult to believe, Sergeant. Consider yourself on report. You are a discredit to your uniform!~" With a show of disgust, Hogan tossed the weapon back, catching the sergeant unprepared. The mortified NCO fumbled awkwardly for several seconds before finally managing to hold onto the weapon with both hands.
"~Diss-misssed!~" Hogan growled, spinning on his heel without acknowledging the NCO's salute. Nonplussed, the NCO swallowed several times and slowly dropped his arm. A few of his men twittered at his discomfiture. Instantly, he lost his nervousness, becoming thunderous.
"~Jaeger! Weissen! You are both on report! Two weeks extra duty! Forward march!~" As the squad disappeared around the bend, Kinchloe could still hear the NCO screaming epithets at Jaeger and Weissen. Hogan immediately headed towards the hidden junction box, and glancing in Kinchloe's direction, flashed him a wink and an impish grin.
Letting out a long breath, Kinchloe closed his eyes and shook his head. I'll kill 'im myself, he thought darkly. The next instant, he heard a loud hiss, and the heavy doors began to slide open. Hogan held his hand palm out to him, indicating he wanted him to wait. When the doors were wide enough to permit entry, Hogan stuck his head in, and then hurriedly waved his arm.
Grabbing all the gear, Kinchloe crossed the open corridor and followed Hogan through the double doors.
As soon as he stepped inside, Kinchloe could feel the deep thrumming of the powerful dynamos on the level below. Again, he was overcome by the vast size of the complex. The plant generated enough power to make the facility self-sufficient. Therefore, any air raids, which might result in power outages within the local area, would not affect it.
This part of the power plant was mostly open, several levels high. Looking up, he saw level upon level of gauges, panels with multiple lights, a confusion of wiring, heavy cables, and pipes. Movement on the level immediately above him caught his eye. Instantly, he and Hogan sought the shadows once more.
Overhead, he could see two men in dark coveralls, checking gauges, making adjustments, and occasionally writing notations onto the clipboards they carried. Hogan grabbed Kinchloe's wrist and pointed at a row of gauges on their level. Men in dark coveralls were also monitoring these panels.
Hogan pressed his forefinger into Kinchloe's chest. Yours, his eyes communicated. Kinchloe nodded. Next, Hogan pointed at the dynamos located on the level below, and then at his own chest. Mine.
Taking one of the canvas bags from Kinchloe, Hogan moved purposefully towards a ladder leading down to the dynamos. As Hogan disappeared below, Kinchloe hid one of the canvas bags and his tools in a small alcove. Taking a deep breath, he moved stealthily towards the row of gauges on his own level.
Stopping momentarily to adjust his helmet as low over his face as he could force it, he stood and came out of the shadows. Reaching the closest panel, he kept his back to the men working there. He was in luck. The men were so engrossed in their tasks they remained oblivious to him.
Opening the carryall, Kinchloe surreptitiously removed one of the dynamite bundles. Head down, he pressed the preset timer, and using his body to cover his movements, reached behind the large panel and attached the magnetized bundle.
His heart hammered so loudly that he felt certain it could be heard over the incessant thrumming of the dynamos.
Adjusting his shoulder strap, he began moving towards the farthest panel of gauges. Keeping his head down, he passed by the two workers, again without being noticed. There, he repeated his actions, attaching another dynamite bundle to the back of the panel.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, Kinchloe straightened his shoulders and started back towards the entrance. Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, one of the men called him.
"Soldat! Ein moment, bitte!"
Kinchloe stopped in his tracks. The perspiration ran in rivulets down his face. Oh, swell, he thought helplessly. Now what?
"Ja? Was ist los?" Kinchloe spoke without turning.
"~Will you please bring me a cup of coffee? I am still unused to this early morning shift.~"
Kinchloe nodded wordlessly, and continued walking. Behind him, he could hear the two workers talking.
"~You say early morning shift,~" the other worker chuckled. "~I say late night shift!~"
"~Either way, I am having trouble staying awake!~" the first worker replied. Both men laughed out loud.
Kinchloe made it back to the entrance just as Hogan was emerging from the level below. Kinchloe jerked his head at the callbox located on this side of the double doors. As Hogan reached for it, Kinchloe recovered the equipment he'd hidden earlier. He returned in time to hear Hogan speaking softly into the handset.
The next few seconds passed with interminable slowness. Keeping his head low and his back to the cavernous power station, Kinchloe imagined prying eyes boring a hole between his shoulder blades. What could be taking so long? Had they attracted suspicion? Was a squad of SS even now swiftly making its way here? Would they be waiting on the other side of the doors for them?
A sharp, hissing sound, signaling the opening of the heavy double doors, startled him out of his thoughts. Not waiting for Hogan to make sure that the way was clear, Kinchloe followed him out practically nipping at his heels.
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Friday 18 AUG 1944/0045hrs localOutside the Tauberbischofsheim Rocket Facility
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Carter rapidly crossed the short distance between the fence and the storage tanks. Keeping an ear cocked for any signs of the lone guard, he moved into the shadows at the base of one of the tanks and happily settled down to work. Even as a boy, Carter had loved pyrotechnics.
Carefully taking out one of his prepackaged dynamite bundles, he recalled his extended family's annual Fourth of July picnics, and how he'd look forward to the fireworks with fever-pitch anticipation. Grinning slightly, he remembered how he'd plead with his dad and uncles for permission to set off the Roman candles, and his deep disappointment whenever his mother intervened, saying it was too dangerous.
Shaking his head, Carter pressed the preset timer on the bundle, picked up his bags and moved to the other side of the tank, where he repeated his actions. He never could understand his mother's fear. Imagine anyone being afraid of a little flash/bang? But when he turned ten, she finally gave her reluctant okay, and Carter's life had never been the same.
Smiling at the memory of his first fireworks display, Carter moved silently to the next storage tank. A sound to his right alerted him that the depot guard was walking his post. Tightly hugging the shadows on the side of the tank, Carter froze in place. The guard soon passed by, his helmet glinting in the weak moonlight.
Carter counted to sixty, listening intently. Satisfied, he continued with his work. Finishing the second tank, he was about to move on to the third when he paused. Lovingly running his hand along the dynamite bundle, Carter gently patted it a fond farewell.
Well, I've gotta go now...Remember, you can't go off until the timer tells you to, okay? And be careful--there's a lot of Krauts around here. They may want to keep you from going ka-boom...and I know you wouldn't want that, huh?
With that, Carter moved to the next two tanks and within a few minutes finished the job. Looking back at his handiwork, he began to feel the same eager expectation he'd experienced as a boy. Keeping an eye out for the guard, Carter waited until he was sure that the lone guard was on the far side of the tanks and dashed across the open space to the unlocked gate.
Mission accomplished--and he still had explosives left over! Now all he had to do was wait for the colonel and Kinchloe. Staying low, Carter skulked silently through the rows of parked vehicles in the motorpool. An idea suddenly came to him: Maybe I should 'fix-up' a few of the vehicles for Jerry.
Recalling the gangster films he'd watched back home at the local bijou, he added, I could even hotwire us a getaway car!
No sooner did he say this than he saw exactly the vehicle they needed--an armored half-track, with a 20mm mounted cannon. Just like the ones back at the Fulda Bridge, he thought. Maybe it's even the one that got away. Boy, oh boy...wouldn't that be a kick?
Moving with catlike stealth around the vehicle, he inspected it and climbed into the cab. Working quickly, he found the wires he needed and cut them. Before he connected them, however, he checked his watch.
An hour to go. He decided against connecting the wires at that time, believing it wiser to hold off starting the getaway car until the last second. With nothing else to do, he crouched low in the cab and settled down to wait.
Remaining alert, he kept a constant vigil, scanning the motorpool for guards. A sign farther down the line caught his eye. Grinning suddenly, he leaped off the half-track and headed in the sign's direction. Carter couldn't read German, but there were certain words that Hogan and Kinchloe made sure that everyone on the team knew and recognized.
And one of the first words Carter had memorized was 'Munition.'
Boy, oh boy, oh boy! An ammo dump! Golly Moses! Those make the best explosions of all!
****
Friday 18 AUG 1944/0045hrs localAbandoned farmhouse, northeast of Mutlangen
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Wilson tiredly watched LeBeau pace.
"Will you cut it out, LeBeau! Sit down, for cryin' out loud! 'Fore you gimme a case of whiplash."
"I cannot help it! We should do something besides wait here!"
"Like what? We have our orders--wait until the rendezvous time and then head back to camp."
"Non! I say we take out the rocket facility ourselves! I say we go there now and--!"
"--And what, mate?" Newkirk asked from the door. "Get ourselves killed, too?"
"How can you talk like that, Newkirk?" LeBeau's tone was belligerent. "Your own countrymen--"
"--Just died for King and Country, I know!" Newkirk retorted angrily. "And believe me, mate...I'd like to take that place apart with my own hands!" As he spoke, he waved his arms, pacing back and forth. Coming to a stop, his shoulders drooped. "But if we go there now, the ruddy Krauts will have three more trophies on their shelf. Thanks, but no thanks, mate!"
"I do not care what you two say," LeBeau declared. "I am going!" He started for the door and stopped. "Well--? Are you coming? Or must I go alone?"
Walking up to him, Newkirk grabbed his arm. "Louis, you aren't goin' anywhere...And neither are we. You heard what the colonel said. His orders--!"
"Orders!" LeBeau spat. "Since when do we only follow orders?"
"Since it'd be suicide to do otherwise," Wilson cut in quietly. The others turned to him. "Look, fellas...I'm kinda new at this, I know, but--" He looked at them both, shrugging. "Don't you think that the Krauts would sorta increase their security after a commando raid?"
"You bet they would!" Newkirk agreed. LeBeau made a disgusted noise in his throat and was about to head towards the door again, when a sound outside the farmhouse stopped him. Instantly, all three men froze in place. Newkirk brought his weapon to bear, automatically removing the safety. He waved LeBeau and Wilson against the wall while he hurried to the doorway.
Crouching low next to the door, Newkirk waited until the others had taken positions underneath a darkened window. With a nod to LeBeau, he slowly turned the knob and cracked open the door. Peering through carefully, he cautiously crawled through the narrow opening onto the outside step. His motions smooth and fluid, Newkirk took a position just on the other side of the door.
A few moments later, he felt more than saw LeBeau join him.
With actions borne of long experience, the two soldiers moved along the edge of the farmhouse, hugging close to the shadows. Reaching the far corner, they paused momentarily, listening to the silence.
Newkirk tapped LeBeau on the shoulder, and then pointed at the woods that encircled the house. LeBeau nodded. Newkirk moved out at a low crouch, his dark clothing blending with the night. LeBeau waited tensely, counting to thirty, allowing his comrade a chance to reach the relative safety of the tree line before following.
As soon as he reached the woods, LeBeau hid behind a giant tree trunk, looking for Newkirk.
Where is he? he wondered. The next thing he knew, a gloved hand was clamped tightly against his mouth, preventing him from crying out, cutting off his air supply. A voice he did not recognize began to softly recite:
"I have done one braver thing
Than all the Worthies did,
And yet a braver thence doth spring,
Which is, to keep that hid."
The voice paused, then added gently, "All right, old chap. It's your turn. But just a small warning--" A quiet ~swichk~ next to LeBeau's ear sent a chill down his spine. He knew that a blade had just been pulled from its scabbard. "--No second chances."
With that, the hand was removed from his mouth, but was replaced by a sharp blade suddenly pressed against his Adam's apple. LeBeau took a deep gulp of fresh air, and swallowed a few times before he was able to find his voice. Closing his eyes, he sent a silent prayer to Notre Dame and in a low voice began to recite the countersign:
"Then you have done a braver thingThan all the Worthies did;
And a braver thence will spring,
Which is, to keep that bid."
LeBeau had never read or heard of "The Undertaking" by John Donne, but at this moment, he hoped beyond hope that he'd memorized the obscure passage exactly right.
"Good show, old bean!" The earlier threatening tone was entirely gone, replaced by a good-natured voice. "Never much cared for Donne, myself, but it was either that or 'How do I love thee, let me count the ways.'" He chuckled softly. "Wouldn't do to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, eh? You being a POW for almost two years now, wot?"
LeBeau grimaced sourly. "Very funny." He turned and faced the newcomer.
"Ah, a Frenchie! Jolly good! I was expecting an American--a colonel, I believe."
"He's on another mission," LeBeau explained. "He sent us instead."
"Us?" The stranger blinked in surprise. Slowly turning, he followed LeBeau's eyes and looked over his shoulder. A Thompson machinegun barrel aimed between his eyes greeted him. Taking care not to antagonize the finger resting on the trigger, he carefully raised his hands above his head.
LeBeau took his weapon.
"Aye, mate...Us!" Newkirk glared coldly. "Louis, you all right?"
"Oui, mon ami," LeBeau said. "He gave the proper challenge." As he spoke, he patted down the prisoner for more weapons.
"I'm Leftenant James Whittington, B Company, His Majesty's 214th Light Infantry." He stoically withstood LeBeau's search and added bemusedly, "I must say...you chaps are certainly not very trusting."
"Like you said, mon ami," LeBeau said easily. "We have been POWs for over two years. It has made us very cautious." Turning to Newkirk, he added with a shrug, "He is one of us."
"Are there any more of you?" Newkirk asked. Whittington dropped his eyes.
"Not as many as we started with, I'm afraid. The Jerries were waiting for us. Almost the entire company got wiped out. I managed to maneuver my chute out of the hotspot and into the woods. I hid for a few minutes and made a break for it." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Found two more of my chaps on the way--Staff Sergeant Vaughan and Private Butler. Vaughn got it in the leg. He'll be all right." He paused, bitterly. "I'm afraid poor Butler's bought it, though.
"We have a medic with us," Newkirk said. "Maybe--?"
But Whittington shook his head. "No, old bean. Poor chap never stood a chance...Vaughn and I did what we could for him, but he didn't make it. Died just before we got here."
Newkirk and LeBeau looked away momentarily. Finally, Newkirk shouldered his weapon. "Our job's to get you back to our own lines. Come on. We'd best get started."
****
Friday 18 AUG 1944/0115hrs localInside the Tauberbischofsheim Rocket Facility
****
Hogan glanced at his watch: 0115 hours! They had less than sixty minutes to finish what they'd come to do and get away. Mentally recalling the interior layout, he turned right and hurried down a short corridor. Too late, he spotted a man in a white lab coat rounding a bend up ahead and heading their way.
Surreptitiously, he moved a half step in front of Kinchloe. He was angled in such a way as to block his NCO from a casual observer. Looking neither right nor left, he confidently strode past 'Lab Coat.' As soon as he felt it safe to do so, he glanced over his shoulder and saw to his relief that Lab Coat was turning the corner.
Instantly, Hogan tapped Kinchloe on the arm and they broke into a light jog, slowing down as they approached the bend in the corridor. Stopping just short of it, Hogan looked cautiously around it.
The giant-sized steel doors told him he'd found what they were looking for--the launch bay.
His heart hammering in his chest, he fell back against the corridor wall, abruptly feeling weak-kneed. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at Kinchloe and nodded.
"This is it, buddy," he whispered. "For the big money!"
Kinchloe gave him a lopsided grin. "Always wanted to be one of those space cats, Colonel--like Buck Rogers. Thanks for the opportunity."
Hogan gave him a long, hard look. "I'm really starting to worry about you, Kinch."
"It's your fault, sir," Kinchloe said easily. "A guy hangs around you long enough, he begins to think the impossible...isn't."
Hogan actually felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. "Let's go...before I begin to realize just how impossible this whole idea really is!" As they hurried towards the doors, he asked over his shoulder, "Who's the idiot who thought up this little suicide mission, anyway?"
"You, sir."
"Oh...well, next time, do me a favor, huh?" Hogan paused as he opened the junction box next to the doors and reached inside for the handset. "Just give me a good right cross to the chin."
"It's a promise, sir."
Giving him a sour look, Hogan spoke into the handset, providing the correct countersign when challenged. Within moments, they heard the loud hiss and deep rumbling noise that signaled the huge doors were about to open...
They saw it as soon as they stepped through the doors--sleek, beautiful and deadly.
"Holy cats..." Kinchloe whispered reverentially.
"Amen..." Hogan muttered. They stared wide-eyed at the V-2 rocket, which sat, primed and ready, on its launch pad. A second rocket was on its side, still tied down to the cargo trailer on which it had been transported. Probably one of the three that got away from the bridge, Hogan figured. The rhythmic pounding of marching feet alerted him back to the present. A small squad of soldiers was coming towards them.
"Kinch!" he hissed in warning. Kinchloe immediately bent low next to the wall, his back to the wide, enclosed area. As the soldiers neared them, Hogan nonchalantly kept his finger on the trigger of the Schmeisser slung over his shoulder. He held his breath as they walked by him, returning the NCO's salute.
The squad paused at the steel doors, and then went through them without incident. Not waiting to see if they'd return, Hogan pressed Kinchloe to his feet and they took off at a fast stride.
As they walked, Hogan kept an eye out for anyone else. Kinchloe was forced to remain as inconspicuous as possible and therefore had to keep his head turned away towards the wall and slightly downward. After walking a few feet, Hogan spotted the control room, a small glassed-in cubicle two levels above them.
"Okay, buddy, here's where we go our separate ways," Hogan said. "You know what to do."
"Oh, sure..." Kinchloe said ironically. "Reprogram the rocket with the new grid coordinates you gave me so that it doesn't head towards Paris." Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "Piece o' cake. But I still don't get it, sir. Why don't we just blow it up along with everything else?"
Grinning, Hogan slapped him on the shoulder. "What would be the fun in that?" he asked disingenuously. Seeing the stubborn set to Kinchloe's chin, he relented slightly. "Okay, okay...if we just blow it up, the Jerries will only build another one. But if we send it somewhere else--say to a certain rocket facility located near the Swiss border--it might just make the Krauts start thinking that the darn things are unreliable."
"The Swiss border--?" Kinchloe looked startled. "So that's your plan. To take out two rocket sites for the price of one." He gave a low whistle, apprising Hogan with a look of open admiration. "Gotta hand it to you, sir...You sure don't think small."
Hogan shrugged self-deprecatingly. "If nothing else, this might make the Krauts go back to the drawing board--for a while anyway. Might delay their program long enough for us to win the war." He sighed. "Then again...it might not."
"Even if it doesn't delay their program, Colonel, it's still a great plan." Kinchloe held out his hand. "Again, thanks for giving me the opportunity to do this."
His expression serious, Hogan took the proffered hand and shook it. "Good luck, Kinch." With that, he started climbing a set of rungs that only led up. Kinchloe ran a short distance before he found a way down towards the launch pad...
****
Crouching in the shadows, Hogan removed two small canisters from one of the shoulder bags and then hid the bags along the wall. Standing, he stuffed the canisters into his tunic pockets and stepped out onto the catwalk, straightening his uniform as he did so. Setting his jaw in a hard line, he headed towards the control booth.
There were fifteen men inside--ten lab coats, five uniformed. A scrutiny of the shoulder tabs revealed a Field Marshal, two Major Generals, a full Colonel and a Major. Some pretty high brass here! Everyone's favorite Fruitcake must want to make sure the job on Paris gets done right.
Glancing down to the lower levels of the huge bay, he spotted several guards posted on the level immediately above the launch pad. Try as he might, however, he couldn't spot Kinchloe.
And hopefully, neither can the Krauts, he thought worriedly...
****
Hearing a noise above him, Kinchloe froze. The heavy tread of storm-trooper boots passed overhead with interminable slowness. When the guard was finally gone, Kinchloe glanced at his watch: 0130 hours--45 minutes before the power plant blew.
His eyes traveled of their own accord up the length of the V-2.
Reprogram the rocket, he says. Why can't he have me do something simple...Like go ten rounds against Joe Louis? Or pitch a no-hitter in game seven of the next World Series. Beat Newkirk at cards.
He paused at this last rumination, picturing Newkirk sitting at the head of the table, talking animatedly as he dealt.
Beat Newkirk at cards? Kinchloe shook his head. Compared to that, reprogramming the rocket is a piece of cake!
****
Hogan stopped outside the door leading into the control booth. He took a moment to glance around him--no guards on this level. Here we go! he thought and knocked briskly for entry.
The major instantly opened the door. He glared at Hogan, a single eyebrow raised in inquiry.
"~Yes, Herr Oberst?~"
Hogan reached inside his tunic and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "~I am Oberst Hoganhoffman, SS Inspector General's Office. I was sent by Berlin to inspect the local security measures of the project. There have been several rumors of possible sabotage and--~"
"~Yes, yes!~" The Field Marshal stepped forward impatiently. "~We just received a report from our Mutlangen base that a company of British commandoes attempted a parachute assault.~"
"~Attempted?~" Hogan had a sudden cold feeling.
"Ja, Herr Oberst!" the major exclaimed with pride. "~But they were stopped before they even touched the ground!~"
"~I see...~" Hogan warred with a dark anger that threatened to overwhelm him. He addressed the Field Marshal. "~I have been on the road all night, Herr General. This is therefore the first that I have heard of the raid. You must see, mein Herr, of the urgency of my mission then. If the Allies sent airborne assault troops to one of the sites, then it is highly likely that there may be one on its way here as well.~"
The Field Marshal nodded. "~That is true, Oberst Hoganhoffman. Major Richter here will see to it that you receive the utmost cooperation.~"
"Danke, Herr General," Hogan said, clicking his heels. An announcement came over a loudspeaker.
"Achtung! Achtung!" Everyone looked up to listen. "~T-plus thirty minutes!~"
"~Ah, Hoganhoffman,~" the Field Marshal said, his face glowing. "~You arrived just in time. Launch time is now but a half hour away.~"
"~So soon? I did not know we were ready for a launch tonight?~"
"~We had hoped to launch both rockets at the same time,~" the Field Marshal admitted. "~But what with the raid at Mutlangen--we decided to move up our time table. We already had one rocket set to go prior to the shipment we received today. Mutlangen and Fussen are not prepared to launch tonight, of course; however, this will be our 'wake-up call'--as the Americans would say--to the people of Paris. And, within another seventy-two hours, all three facilities should be ready fire in tandem.~"
Hogan nodded, his eyes on the rocket, which was poised and set to deliver its deadly message to Paris. Fussen was the location near the Swiss border, he knew. Hopefully, within the next thirty minutes it would cease to be a threat, as would this one. Mutlangen would have to wait for another day.
He checked his watch: 0140 hours. Kinchloe should be in position by now.
****
Kinchloe checked his watch: 0140 hours. The colonel should be in position by now, he thought. Ready or not--! Ensuring his helmet was as low over his eyes as he could get it, he shouldered his bag and tool case and boldly stepped out onto the launch bay floor.
Keeping his eyes straight forward, he walked up to the launch pad and began climbing the metal stairs. As he did so, he was quite conscious of the hot steam being emitted from the rocket.
He'd heard the announcement giving the countdown at T-minus 30 minutes. This had not been part of the plan. He'd estimated that it would take him at least that long to reprogram the rocket and wire the second one to blow. Hogan was supposed to knock out the people in the control booth, and then the two of them were to launch the rocket themselves.
Guess we'll just have to improvise.
****
Time to improvise, Hogan thought. He turned to the Field Marshal. "~Herr General, if you would excuse me? I wish to go down to the launch bay for a few minutes--to ensure that no one has attempted any sabotage.~"
"~I am sorry, Hoganhoffman, but I cannot allow you to do so. It is too close to launch time. It would be too dangerous for you.~"
"~I am willing to take the risk, mein Herr,~" Hogan said. "~After what happened at Mutlangen, I would be remiss in my duties not to inspect the launch bay.~"
One of the 'Lab Coats' approached them. "~Herr General, what the Oberst states is correct. We can delay the launch by ten minutes to accommodate him. Major Richter here could accompany him.~"
"~That would not be necessary--~" Hogan protested.
"~--No, no...~" the Field Marshal interrupted. "~It is a good idea. The two of you could inspect the area much faster than just one. Very well, Hoganhoffman. Launch time is now at--~" He checked his watch. ~--0215 hours! Carry on!~"
Hogan and Richter saluted. "Jahwohl, Herr General!" they exclaimed together. As they left the control booth, the loudspeaker announced the extended launch time.
****
Kinchloe heard the announcement and knew that Hogan was responsible for it. He was feverishly working in the shadows of the rocket fins, a control panel open before him.
I don't know how you did it, Colonel, but thanks for the additional time.
A few sparks flew out at him, causing him to wince on occasion. He wiped at the beads of perspiration that were dripping steadily down his face.
If I ever get back home, I'm gonna punch that recruiter right in the mouth! Fun, travel, and adventure--meeting new people--he forgot to mention the part about them trying to kill you!
He cross-connected one last set of wires. There! That oughtta do it! He checked his watch: 0150 hours. The plant was due to blow in twenty minutes. And the rocket was supposed to go at the same time. If this works, I promise never to doubt any of the colonel's wild schemes ever again!
A noise behind him caused Kinchloe to whirl around. He froze as he realized that the business end of a Luger was aimed between his eyes.
****
Hogan tapped Richter on the shoulder and pointed to the right of the launch bay. Richter nodded in understanding and immediately headed in that direction. Hogan made as if to go in the opposite direction, but as soon as Richter was out of sight, he changed directions yet again. He knew that he didn't have much time, but he had to take care of this little part of the mission before he did anything else.
Kinchloe is on his own for now, he thought grimly. Hurrying back to the ladder leading to the upper levels, he determinedly put the thought away that his friend's life was in danger and that he couldn't take the time to warn him. He'd have to rely on Kinchloe's uncanny ability to survive against impossible odds.
Right now, he had to recover the explosives that he'd hidden earlier. Having Richter tag along had cost him precious minutes. He reached the bags in record time, and rushed back to the ladder. Not bothering with the rungs, he grabbed the sides and slid all the way to the bottom level.
As soon as his feet hit the floor, he was off and running towards the second rocket. Tossing the shoulder bags onto the cargo trailer, he grabbed onto the cargo bed and easily pulled himself up and over. Aware of time slipping by, he nevertheless worked with cool efficiency. Soon, he'd placed a dynamite bundle on the booster rocket and another on the warhead. Climbing down, he then placed a third charge on the cargo trailer just for good measure.
Tossing the empty bag aside, he went in search of Kinchloe.
****
Holding his breath, Kinchloe waited for the major's next move. The officer glared coldly, using the Luger to indicate he wanted Kinchloe to move aside. Reluctantly, the American took a step to the left.
The major's eyes narrowed in puzzlement. Kinchloe felt a moment of smug triumph. He'd managed to seal the control panel in time. There was no sign of tampering--unless you knew where to look. The major's eyes fell on the shoulder bag that was lying on Kinchloe's feet.
Jerking it open, he discovered the hidden bundles of dynamite still inside. Next, he opened the tool case. An expression of realization came over him as he next looked up at Kinchloe.
"~You are a saboteur!~" he shouted. "And that uniform also makes you a spy!~ Without hesitation, he raised the weapon about to shoot.
"~Major Richter!~"
Hogan's shout sent a shiver of relief through Kinchloe.
"~What is this, Herr Major?~" Hogan asked. "~A saboteur?~"
"Ja, Herr Oberst!" Richter's Luger never wavered as he answered Hogan. "~I caught him in the act and was about to execute him as a spy.~"
"~Herr Major, I commend you your enthusiasm in attempting to rid us of this--this human garbage--!~" Kinchloe caught the twinkle in Hogan's eyes when he said this. "~--but do you not think that it would be better for me to interrogate him? Surely, he would not be acting alone? Besides, we do not know what exactly he has done to the rocket. It is best that I find out before we execute him. Don't you agree?~"
Richter nodded in reluctant agreement. "~Jahwohl, mein Herr. Should I order the launch stopped~?"
"~Did you find any explosives on the launch pad? Or any signs of tampering?~" Hogan asked.
"~Nein, Herr Oberst. I believe that I stopped him before he could cause any real harm.~
Hogan nodded. "~That is as I thought. You did a good job, Major Richter. And my report to Berlin will so indicate. Come. Let us take this man to an interrogation room and show him how the SS treats spies and saboteurs.~"
Hogan paused when they reached the double launch bay doors. "~Major Richter, perhaps it would be a good idea for you to post several guards outside the doors...to ensure that no one else is permitted entry until the rocket is safely launched. Meanwhile, I will see to the prisoner.~"
"Jahwohl, Herr Oberst!" Richter said, saluting and clicking his heels at the same time. "Heil Hitler!"
"Heil Hitler!" Hogan returned. Pointing his Schmeisser at Kinchloe, he indicated that he wanted him to start walking. "As for you, my dear Herr Saboteur, you are now the personal guest of der Fuehrer and the SS. I hope you enjoy your stay with us."
****
End of Part 3
(To be continued)