Early the next morning, Quinton McHale and his crew gratefully descended the stairs into the abandoned wine cellar that served as their quarters after a long, but uneventful night on patrol. Though weary from the extended hours of heightened alertness, he and the men were too keyed up to sleep. They would need a good meal and some time to wind down, before they'd be ready for a few hours of sack time.
Their Japanese POW cook, Fuji, was waiting as they reached the bottom of the stairs, with breakfast for them already on the table.
"You spot any Jerry subs last night, Skipper-san," Fuji asked.
"Not a one, Fuje," McHale replied with an unconcerned shrug. "Food smells great. Thanks for having it ready for us."
"Boy, I think I could eat a bear!" Ensign Parker exclaimed, making a beeline for the scrambled eggs, Italian sausage, and toast.
"You'll have to make do with Italian sausage, Parker-san," Fuji said, which elicited a chuckle from the men. "No bear here."
"Me and the guys need to finish that poker game that ol' Leadbottom interrupted when he sent us on that hokey patrol," Gruber put in as he filled his plate. "Shouldn't take too long."
"All right, you eight-balls," McHale replied in mock gruffness. "But don't be too long. You'll need your sleep just in case Binghamton pulls the same crap on us again today. There wasn't a Jerry ship or sub within 100 miles of where he sent us last night and he knows it. I wouldn't put it past him to send us on another wild goose chase again tonight."
After serving himself and taking his usual seat in the corner, McHale said, "Speaking of Leadbottom, someone needs to man the periscope. You never know when he'll turn up."
"I'll do it," Fuji volunteered. "I've already had a good night's sleep and my breakfast, too." About twenty minutes later, he reported, "Skipper-san, your cousin is up there with two men I've never seen before."
"Chuck," McHale said, "Go up there and see what's going on. Bring Guiseppe and his friends down there, if everything seems OK to you." Turning to Fuji, he added, "Better make yourself scarce until I can figure out what this visit is about."
"Right," Parker said, putting his now-empty plate on a side table. "Be back shortly."
Moments later, he emerged from the wine cellar to find Guiseppe milling around the tents with the two men. Parker also noticed Guiseppe's fishing boat tied up behind the PT-73.
"Heyyyy!" Parker greeted, at a loss, knowing Guiseppe did not speak English. He assumed that the two dark-haired men with him in civilian clothes were also Italians.
"'Allo!" Guiseppe called back, smiling broadly. He liked the good-natured, but clumsy ensign and was glad to see him.
Guiseppe said a few words in Italian, which LeBeau promptly translated, "He said that we are here to speak to his cousin, Commander McHale." Indicating Hogan, he continued, "I am Louis LeBeau and this is Colonel Hogan. He's been sent by Allied headquarters in London to speak with Commander McHale."
"Allied Headquarters? Wow!" the naive young ensign replied, obviously impressed. He saluted Hogan, after clumsily transferring the fork he still held to his other hand. "I'm Chuck Parker, Ensign Charles Parker."
Hogan returned the salute, then said, "Good to meet you, Ensign." He smiled inwardly, thinking of how much this man reminded him of Carter.
"The skipper's right down here," Parker said, pointing to the entrance to the wine cellar.
As the three men followed Parker, Hogan and LeBeau exchanged knowing glances when they passed a hollow tree stump with a periscope sticking out of it.
"Looks familiar," Hogan said, chuckling.
"Yes," LeBeau agreed. "Except that theirs is the real thing and not made out of an old tin can and a scrounged pipe."
As the group reached the bottom of the stairs, Hogan's eyes quickly surveyed the surroundings. Though surprised to see the ornate antique furnishings in the old stone cellar, which contrasted sharply with the the drab and drafty shabbiness of Barracks 2 back at Stalag 13, the room nevertheless had an odd familiarity to it. A group of enlisted men sat at a table at one end playing poker with their banter reminding him of Newkirk, Carter, and Kinch.
He spotted Quinton McHale right away, as the man looked to be almost an identical twin of his Italian cousin. After the two cousins conducted a short conversation in rapid Italian, Guiseppe gestured for Hogan to take over.
Taking his cue, Hogan walked over to McHale, extending his hand. "Hi, I'm Colonel Robert Hogan and I've been sent by Allied Headquarters in London with a proposed mission for you and your men." Indicating LeBeau, he added, "And this is Louis LeBeau, who is here to translate for Guiseeppe and I."
"Quinton McHale," the other man said, shaking Hogan's hand, then LeBeau's in turn. Gesturing to a sofa nearby, he added, "Have a seat."
After the three men complied, McHale continued, "I'm a bit confused here. Why me? How was I chosen? Why are you coming directly to me and not through the chain of command to my commanding officer, Captain Binghamton? Why are you dressed like an Italian fisherman?"
"I know it seems strange," Hogan said, chuckling. "But it will make more sense once I explain."
"Sounds like it will take awhile," McHale observed. Turning to his men, he said, "You guys go get some sack time and I'll fill you in on what you need to know later." Looking at one of the men, who wasn't much taller than LeBeau, he added, "Get these men some coffee before you go, Tink."
A short time later, after coffee was served, Hogan began, "I'll try to make it as brief as possible." Taking a sip of coffee, he continued, "Your cousin here is a boyhood friend with an Italian major, who is in command of a POW camp up in Capizio."
McHale nodded to let Hogan know he was paying attention.
"But Major Bonacelli is really working for our side," Hogan confided. "His role is that of gathering intelligence and passing it along by radio to London. Guiseppe and several others help the major with the gathering of that intelligence. Because they are boyhood friends, no one gets suspicious with Guiseppe's frequent visits to the POW camp."
"I see," McHale said, though his facial expression betrayed the fact that he still didn't understand how this involved him.
"Major Bonacelli wanted to do more for the Allied war effort than to simply gather and report intelligence, so he and Guiseppe came up with the idea of rescuing downed fliers before they could be captured," Hogan continued. "That's where you come in. Once rescued, the fliers will need to get back to Allied lines, and Guiseppe knew that bringing them down the coast in a fast PT boat would be much easier than trying to make the trip in a slow, unarmed fishing boat."
"I can see that," McHale said, chuckling. "But, still, why me personally and why didn't you go through the chain of command?"
"After Major Bonacelli presented the idea to London, they went over your record and found that you have the right qualifications for the job," Hogan explained. "You have a reputation for unorthodox solutions, thinking on your feet, adapting to suddenly changed situations, and you are fluent in several languages, including Italian. All this makes you the ideal choice." Chuckling softly, he continued, "And London also checked out your commanding officer's record. London considers Captain Binghamton to be paranoid and unstable; in other words, a security risk."
"That's ol' Leadbottom, all right!" Parker put in.
"Leadbottom," Hogan repeated. "Interesting nickname."
"You don't know the half of it," McHale said, shaking his head in mock horror. "But, go on."
"Most of this operation will be a clandestine one, with secrecy being of the utmost importance," Hogan said. "If you accept the mission, a Colonel Harrigan will be informed of what you're doing, but he won't be involved in the operation. His only role will be to cover your ass if there's some sort of a snafu."
"I see," McHale said, rubbing his chin. "Harrigan's not much better than Binghamton, but I suppose he can be trusted to keep a secret, especially if he knows he'll know something Binghamton doesn't."
Moving on, Hogan said, "Guiseppe and the others he works with in the Italian resistance, will assist downed fliers to safe houses to wait to be transported back to Allied lines. Though he'll be in touch with Major Bonacelli, the major won't be able to take an active role in that part of the operation, in order to not risk blowing his cover for his intelligence operation." Pausing to refill his coffee cup, he continued, "Your cousin will contact you by radio when it's time to make pickups. He's brought another radio for you, which I recommend you keep down here."
"Right," McHale said, beginning to warm to the idea. "I have another radio aboard the 73 and I'd need the right frequencies for that as well."
Glad to see that McHale seemed receptive, Hogan continued, "What I propose is that LeBeau and I stay here overnight, while Guiseppe returns to San Lucca. Tomorrow, we'll take a practice run on the 73 and pick Guiseppe up in San Lucca and you and he will choose pick up points along the coast between San Lucca and Capizio. I've already asked him to prepare maps of the best inlets and coves where you can hide from German patrols when necessary. You'll probably be able to outrun nearly anything you'd come across, anyway."
"Everything except an E-boat," McHale affirmed. "But we can handle them; we've dealt with them before."
"Good!" Putting down his coffee mug with an audible click, Hogan concluded, "So, do you think you want to accept this mission?"
"We'll give it a try," McHale said carefully.
"Tonight, I'll go over some things with you and give you a few tips that I learned from hard experience," Hogan said. "While the operation I run is of a larger scope and under different conditions that what you'll be doing, part of my operation is related to what you'll be doing."
"I want to hear why you came here dressed like an Italian fisherman," Parker remarked. "Seems it would have been easier just to wear your uniform. Or are you a spy?"
"It's a long story, Ensign," Hogan said, laughing. "Sit back and I'll give you the short version."