Chapter 6 – Common, Garbage Can Hoods

Garrison shook himself out of his reverie. He'd now come round to the fact that his team, and he was definitely considering them as 'his' team, were not normal soldiers in any way, shape or form and they wouldn't change...ever.

He'd been totally surprised at the unexpected change in his attitude towards the men he'd once considered to be nothing more than 'common, garbage can hoods'. He sighed regretfully as he recalled how he'd insulted them when he called them that to their faces on their first mission in France. He'd been warned to expect nothing but trouble and that was all he'd expected from them. It had proven to be true with Wheeler who'd done all he could to create havoc during the intensive training sessions and disrupt the rest of the team. He'd nearly caused that first mission to fail with his belligerence and greed but that had come to a stop at the end of Chief's blade. Unfortunately that had only served to reinforce his own opinion of them as worthless cons and killers.

No, it was what happened just over a week ago that had turned his opinion of them on its head. He sat back and went over everything again in his mind. It had been their second mission and they'd gone to Norway to rescue Schuyler Erland, the leader of a Resistance group based near Drammen, from a German prison. Despite all Garrison's careful planning the mission had nearly failed. They'd managed to free Erland but he himself had been taken prisoner, brutally beaten and interrogated by Colonel Mantfreeling the prison commander.

He'd been shocked to his core when he was once again dragged into Mantfreeling's office to be questioned. The two SS officers standing there as if they owned the place were Actor and Casino! Erland was also there, he'd bravely agreed to come with them, pretending to be recaptured to add authenticity to the plan. Goniff was standing by the wall dressed as a Corporal. Chief was on guard, waiting outside.

Garrison had fully expected the cons to high-tail it back to England or Switzerland without a second thought as to his fate, but they'd put their heads together and come up with their own plan to get him out. Their con worked and he recalled berating them for their efforts while escaping through the night in a German truck.

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Casino was driving while Actor navigated, they were both still dressed in their SS uniforms. Erland, Goniff and Chief were sitting in the back with him, he was badly beaten and bloody.

"Of all the stupid, bonehead plays. Do you realise you almost blew the mission bringing him back into prison, besides getting yourselves killed?" he'd ranted.

Chief was leaning against the side of the truck. "You'd never go out on a limb for one of us," he paused and turned to look him in the eye. "Would you Lieutenant?"

"That was different." Garrison replied. Chief was talking about him coming to find and rescue him from a German guard who had him at gunpoint and was about to kill him.

Actor turned around and peered into the back of the truck "You're trying to con us?"

Goniff just grinned "Lieutenant!"

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It was only after they got back to England that Actor quietly took Garrison to one side and told him what had actually happened once they'd learned of his capture and the reason why they'd gone back for him. He thanked him, assured him he wouldn't say anything and walked away back to his office deep in thought. These cons, these hoods had done something that he'd never in his wildest dreams thought they'd do, they'd risked their lives for him! They were now beginning to accept his leadership; they'd previously given him the nickname of 'Warden' in honour of his role as their jailer, back then the term had been derogatory, now it was spoken with a degree of respect and comradeship.

He gingerly touched his right cheek and winced slightly. The bruises and cuts on his face and body were just about gone and he was feeling a whole lot better. Over the last few days he was beginning to be concerned about his volatile team of cons. They were bored and frustrated about being confined to their common room when not out training. They were forced to be together twenty four hours a day and inevitably tempers frayed and arguments erupted frequently over the most trivial things.

He stretched his arms up, dragged his fingers through his short, light brown hair and tried to make himself more comfortable in his chair. He signed off on the paperwork in front of him, closed the folder and put it on the pile of completed reports. He looked at his watch, nine o'clock in the evening, time for one more. He reached for the next folder, opened it and continued. A loud crash from upstairs interrupted his reading. Garrison closed his eyes in exasperation, sighed and went upstairs to calm things down yet again.

This new argument was about Goniff cheating at cards, he and Casino were scuffling on the floor. This time the agile, light-framed thief was on the receiving end, his usual fleetness of foot had failed him and he was down on his back with his arms covering his face under the heavier man. A smashed vase was nearby on the floor and the ever-present washing line had been pulled off the wall. Actor was looking disgustedly at them, he was trying to quietly read a book and smoke his pipe.

Garrison stood in the doorway, shouting at them to stop but things had gone too far and Casino continued to rain blows down on Goniff's raised arms. He waded between the two men and forcefully pulled them apart. Goniff lashed out and kicked him in the shin, then he got a vicious elbow in the ribs from Casino for his troubles. He rubbed his side and glared at the two combatants. "What's the matter with you?"

He got the usual sullen look from Casino as he brushed himself off. "I've had it livin' in this room with these maggots, at least you get some privacy Warden. I've got to put up with these crumbs all day. There was only two to a cell in stir. Can't you do somethin'? Its drivin' me crazy!"

"Gonna be a short journey friend," commented Chief, sitting in the window seat that had become his favourite spot. From here he could survey the grounds and driveway at the front of the mansion and the Essex countryside beyond.

Casino whirled round and stepped forward with his fist raised, ready to strike. "Ok Geronimo you're next!" He reached out to grab him by the shirt.

Chief leapt up, his eyes were blazing and his blade was ready in his hand. "Keep your hands off me!" he yelled as he stood, ready to lash out with the deadly weapon.

Garrison took a deep breath. "KNOCK IT OFF, ALL OF YOU!" They looked at him. "Do you really want to spend the next few days cooling off in the stockade? I'm more than happy to arrange it." This threat was delivered in Garrison's 'quiet' voice. The cons knew him well enough by now to recognise that tone, the quieter the voice the more annoyed he was and the more likely he was to deliver on his promise. They shook their heads. Garrison stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips. "Ok, Goniff, Casino clean this place up."

Chief went back to sitting in the window seat, he turned the knife in his hand and inspected the razor sharp blade. He glared at Casino and mentally ran through the list of ways he knew how to kill the man – at least half a dozen with his bare hands and so many more using the weapon he was holding. He glanced quickly at Garrison and dismissed the idea. He folded the knife shut and inserted it into the new sheath he wore on his right forearm, Garrison had helped him design it and got someone in Supplies to make it for him out of strong, supple leather. He flexed his hand to test the mechanism was working correctly and made a couple of adjustments to the buckles for a more comfortable fit. He decided to practice his 'fast draw' the next time he was outside, he looked across the room and almost changed his mind – Casino made such a tempting target sometimes!

Casino was definitely the brash loudmouth of the team, he never stopped shooting from the lip. He delighted in putting everyone down, inventing nicknames for them - Goniff was naturally 'Limey' and Actor was either 'Beautiful' or 'Your Lordship', the latter would be accompanied by an exaggerated bow. He constantly called Chief a 'dumb Indian' or 'Geronimo', trying to provoke some reaction from him. It had come to blows between them a few times when Casino just would not let up. Everyone knew about Chief's violent reactions to being touched; the threat of his fighting skills as well as his prowess with a blade made sure they usually kept their distance.

Garrison knew that Chief had, so far, held back when things deteriorated to a physical fight. He considered letting Casino know about Chief's history as a cage fighter in prison – that would certainly have made him stop to reconsider his actions, but Garrison reckoned that was for Chief to reveal if he wanted to. He looked at his watch. "Look guys, its getting late why don't you get some sleep and save your energy for the obstacle course tomorrow." Loud moans followed that remark as the men recalled the last time they'd gone on that particular exercise. They still had nightmares about climbing the high wall and then crawling under barbed wire while soldiers fired live rounds over their heads. Chief looked around at the others and quietly smiled to himself. That had been a piece of cake compared to some of the things he'd endured while on the run.

Sighing and hoping for an uninterrupted night's sleep Garrison turned and went to his own room down the corridor to shower and go to bed. "Yeah sure, thanks Warden, sweet dreams," yelled Casino, determined to have the last word.

Garrison knew that their present living conditions were unacceptable and hoped, once the cons had proven their trustworthiness, he could arrange for the other empty bedrooms along the corridor to be opened up for them to move into. Perhaps that would quieten things down, but he doubted it.

Casino wasn't the only one who disliked the living arrangements. Chief hated being in the communal room with the other men, they were too loud, too many, too near, too ...everything; he was used to solitary. He kept himself apart and tried not to get involved in the petty bickering and scuffles that occupied much of their time. On the other hand he actively participated in the army training sessions, all the reports back to Garrison said he excelled at them, especially the combat and firearms exercises, nobody could keep up with him on the obstacle course.

Right from the start of the training period Wheeler had been a nightmare for the young scout. He picked him out for special treatment, he denigrated his parentage, his intelligence and heritage. He constantly called him 'pretty boy' and kept making suggestive comments about what he'd do to him if he got him alone. He jostled him on the firing range, pushed him out of the queue in the mess hall and excluded him from their table. When Goniff spoke up and tried to stop him he got a punch in the gut for his trouble, he didn't try any more after that. Wheeler had often tried to trip Chief up on the obstacle course, but his natural agility kept him on his feet. Garrison had tried to intervene to no avail, Wheeler had sneered that the little dog had to stand up to the big dog and not go crawling behind its master for protection.

Unknown to Garrison or the others, Wheeler had once tried to trap Chief in the communal shower. He'd stood in the doorway, blocking the exit and leering. "You know what 'pretty boys' get in stir don't you? C'mon kid, I'll be your daddy."

The last men to call Chief a 'pretty boy' and try it on were two guards in Statenville Prison, one had ended up dead and the other in hospital. Chief edged round the wall with his arms outspread, poised ready for trouble, he glared as he shouted. "I'm warnin' you Wheeler, don't touch me." He watched warily as Wheeler pushed away from the door towards him.

"Don't be shy, 'pretty boy', I'll be good to you." Chief kicked out as Wheeler stepped forward catching him between his legs, he hit him hard in the face as he dropped. Wheeler reached out to grab him as he fell, trying to drag him down with him. Chief kicked him away and backed out of the shower room with Wheeler's threats ringing in his ears. "You'd better sleep with one eye open from now on Indian!"

That was when Chief totally distanced himself from the others. He had to live with them in the same room but he discouraged any sort of contact, he was all too aware of what would happen if something really went wrong and he finally lost his temper and lashed out - Garrison would be looking for a new team. He didn't want to risk getting into trouble and being sent back to prison; the hell he was in now was far better than the hell he'd just gotten out of. He concentrated on his training and kept himself to himself. Wheeler thought he'd won and crowed about it.

Everyone was thankful Wheeler was now dead, killed by Chief on their first mission when Wheeler attacked him in a burning railway freight car full of counterfeit money, endangering both the mission and Chief's life.