Mahoney was wondering how to determine whom Cranepool was humping, when he became aware that the locomotive was slowing down. Why was the locomotive slowing down? He thought he’d better find out. The noise he made getting up from his bed of coal evidently inhibited Cranepool and his paramour, because they stopped moving. Mahoney slung his carbine over his shoulder and stumbled toward the ladder, passing snoozing men. He looked behind him and noticed a length of Odette’s blonde hair peeking out from underneath her poncho. That meant Cranepool was screwing Louise. You leave people alone for a few minutes, and they start fucking, Mahoney thought.
He climbed down the ladder, aware that the train was decreasing its speed even more. The wind and rain whipped him as he lowered himself to the floor of the locomotive. Sommervieux shoveled coal into the furnace, Leduc was standing guard, and Agoult was working the levers in the control area.
“Why are we slowing down?” Mahoney asked Agoult.
“Because we’re going to stop. We have to switch tracks and there’s a place where we can do it straight ahead.”
Mahoney looked out the side of the cab, but couldn’t see very far ahead in the rain. “Why do we have to switch tracks?”
“So we can get in the same lane as trains coming from the other direction. Don’t you remember we want to cause a crash in the tunnel?”
“Suppose we have a crash before the tunnel?”
“The tunnel’s only about two miles ahead. We’re almost there.”
“Maybe I’d better wake the others up, then.”
“That’s a good idea.”
The train slowed more and came to a creaking halt. Agoult jumped out of the cab and ran forward to operate the switch. Baudraye poked his head over the edge of the coal car. “Why are we stopping?”
Mahoney looked up at him. “To change tracks. Wake up the others and tell them to get ready for trouble.”
Baudraye’s head disappeared again, and Mahoney heard a commotion in the coal car. He hoped they’d catch Cranepool and Louise in flagrante, but if he knew Cranepool, that young maniac would have had his dick buttoned up in his pants and his carbine ready as soon as he realized the locomotive had stopped.
Mahoney looked out the side of the cab and saw Agoult up ahead pulling down on a lever that was as tall as he. The tracks became crisscrossed as he pulled on the lever. When it was all the way down, Agoult ran back to the cab and climbed in. He pushed levers and twisted knobs; the locomotive inched forward, gathered speed and moved onto the track that would carry trains coming from the other direction. After it passed the crisscross Agoult brought it to a stop, jumped down from the cab and ran back to push the lever the other way so that the tracks returned to their normal position. Then he ran back to the locomotive and got it rolling again. Soon it was speeding through the rain, on the wrong track this time.
“Hey Agoult,” Mahoney said, “what if a train happens to come from the other direction?”
“We’d all better jump off this real quick. Shovel some coal into the furnace will you? Don’t just stand there like a mushroom.”
Mahoney lifted the shovel and opened the door to the furnace. White and yellow flames filled the small shimmering area. He remembered a biblical character—he thought it might have been Daniel—who had been thrown into a fiery furnace like that and come out some time later without a scratch. Now that was impossible, Mahoney figured, as he began to shovel in the coal. There was no way that such a thing could happen.
Meanwhile, Cranepool was scrambling down the ladder of the coal car, his carbine slung on his back, his beret tilted rakishly over his eyes. “What did we stop for?” he asked above the roar of the engine and whistle of the wind.
“You scumbag,” Mahoney said.
“Huh?”
“You heard me.”
“Why am I a scumbag?”
“Because you are.”
“What did I do?”
“You know very well what you did, you scumbag.”
“No, I don’t,” Cranepool said, perplexed. He looked upon Mahoney as a father or older brother and took everything he said quite seriously, perhaps too seriously, considering Mahoney’s tendency to babble pointlessly at times such as this. And then it occurred to him that Mahoney might be referring to what had transpired in the coal car between him and Louise. “Do you mean Louise?”
A drop of water dripped from Mahoney’s beret to his nose. “Yes.” Actually Mahoney truly was annoyed, not because he disapproved of people having sexual intercourse, but it irritated him to think that somebody else might be doing it and having fun while he wasn’t. “Scumbag.”
“But we’re in love!” Cranepool protested.
“I think I’m gonna start calling you Cesspool.”
“But we’re in love!”
“Didn’t she tell you she was married?”
Cranepool blinked. “Married?”
“Yes, married.”
“She didn’t tell me she was married.”
“I didn’t think she did. But she is.”
“Who is she married to?”
“Some asshole. He’s a baker or a cook or something like that.”
Cranepool felt sick to his stomach. Whenever he fell in love something like this happened. “Maybe she can get divorced.”
“She’s a Catholic, asshole. Catholics don’t get divorced.”
“But you’re a Catholic and you got divorced, didn’t you Sarge?”
“I’m different.”
“What makes you so different?”
“Because I don’t give a shit about that stuff, but here in France they take it seriously.”
Cranepool looked glumly at Mahoney. “Gee Sarge, what am I gonna do?”
“That’s your problem, Cesspool.”
“I think I’d better go talk to Louise about this.”
Cranepool turned and grabbed the ladder, putting his foot on the bottom rung. Mahoney grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down.
“Hey, whataya think this is—the Kate Smith Hour?” Mahoney asked harshly. “We’ve got work to do here. Stick your head out that window there and keep your eyes peeled for trouble. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Cranepool looked out the window and got a faceful of rain. He squinted and peered through the gray day for signs of trouble, thinking of Louise. Why didn’t she tell me she was married? he asked himself, not bothering to consider they hadn’t had much time to talk up there in the coal car.
Mahoney moved to the other side of the cab and looked out the window. He felt better now that he’d hollered at Cranepool a little. It had got his blood moving and awakened him a bit. Now he felt ready to fight, should that become necessary. He had a funny feeling that it would become necessary, and fairly soon, too.
Chapter Sixteen
In the operations room in the train station at St. Jean-de-Daye, the French collaborator in the sleeveless sweater, whose name was Graslin, looked at the blinking red lights on the console in front of him. “Isn’t that strange?” he murmured.
“Isn’t what strange?” asked Corporal Haider of the German Army Transportation Corps, sitting beside him.
“According to my control board, the tracks between Vernisset and Athanase have just been switched.”
Haider leaned over and looked at the lights. “I wonder what’s going on?”
“Maybe water from the rain got into the wires and made a short circuit. The tracks might not have been switched at all.”
“You’re probably right, because who would have switched them?”
“Nobody would do anything like that.”
Graslin looked at the lights. “Do you think I should tell Lieutenant-Colonel Niekish?”
“What for?”
“He said to report anything unusual.”
“Maybe you should, then.”
“But this is probably nothing. He might get mad. You know how he is at times.”
“I know, but I think it’d be better to have him mad at you for telling him than not
telling him.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’d better put it in writing just to make sure.”
“Good idea.”
Graslin took a sheet of paper and wrote the information on it. He signed his name and wrote the date and time underneath it. As he arose from his chair he glanced at the red lights again. “Look!”
Haider turned to Graslin’s console. “What is it?”
“The tracks are switching back to the way they were before.”
“Isn’t that strange. You don’t think ...”
“What?” asked Graslin.
“No, it couldn’t be,” Haider said.
“What couldn’t be?”
“Well, do you remember that business about the old locomotive?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe this has something to do with the old locomotive.”
“I still think it’s probably a short-circuit in the wires. There’s been an awful lot of rain, you know.”
“I know, but I think you’d better tell Lieutenant-Colonel Niekish anyway.”
“I’ll go down to see him right now.”
Downstairs, in his office, Lieutenant-Colonel Niekish was in a foul mood. He’d been that way ever since his encounter with Major Richter that morning. Niekish loathed the SS. It seemed improper to him that an SS officer of junior grade should treat him like a subordinate when he had served Germany faithfully in two wars and had been awarded the Iron Cross Second Class in the Second Battle of the Somme. He was thinking dark thoughts and sipping a cup of coffee that was ninety percent chicory when Graslin knocked on his door.
“Come in!” Niekish said.
Graslin entered the office. “I’m sorry to bother you sir, but something unusual has happened and I thought I’d better report it immediately.” He shifted his feet nervously and waited for Niekish to say something.
Niekish placed his coffee cup in the saucer. “What happened?”
“I received an indication on my console board that the tracks between Vernisset and Athanase have been switched.”
“It’s probably a short circuit because of all the rain,” Niekish said.
“That’s what I thought, but I talked it over with Corporal Haider and we decided I should tell you anyway, in view of what the SS Major told us this morning. I put it in writing. Here.” He dropped the piece of paper on Niekish’s desk.
Niekish looked at the piece of paper. “Is that all?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You may return to your post.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Graslin left the office and Niekish looked at the piece of paper. He was certain that it was a short circuit caused by the excessive rainfall, but he thought he’d notify Richter’s office in La Roche-Guyon anyway. He picked up his telephone and told his secretary to put him through to La Roche-Guyon.
It turned out that Richter was not in his office, so Niekish left the message with one of Richter’s aides, who said he’d give it to Richter as soon as he heard from him.
Chapter Seventeen
The old locomotive rumbled through the wind and rain. Mahoney smoked a cigarette and looked out the side window, hoping no train would come from the opposite direction and crash into them. He looked at both his watches: it was four-thirty in the afternoon. He was hungry and was sure the others were, too. At least they had cigarettes to smoke but it wouldn’t be long before they ran out of them. Then the situation would really become difficult.
Agoult turned back to Mahoney. “The tunnel’s just up ahead!” he shouted.
Mahoney took the cigarette out of his mouth and craned his head out the window of the cab. Sure enough through the wet gray afternoon he saw the mountain looming up in front of them, only it really wasn’t a mountain; it was more of a huge round hill. The railroad couldn’t go over it and couldn’t go around it so they’d cut right through it, and if Mahoney had his way, it would be totally destroyed before many more hours passed.
Mahoney picked up a lump of coal and threw it at Cranepool, who turned around suddenly; the kid’s basic reflexes were terrific.
“Go up in the coal car and tell the others to get down here,” Mahoney said.
Cranepool climbed the ladder and relayed Mahoney’s message. Agoult pulled a lever and the locomotive slowed down. The locomotive plunged into the darkness of the tunnel. Mahoney looked ahead and couldn’t see the light at the other end.
“Hey!” he called to Agoult. “How come I can’t see the light at the other end of the tunnel?”
“Because there’s a curve,” Agoult replied.
Agoult pulled another lever, and the locomotive slowed down more. Cranepool returned to the cab, and soon the others arrived. It was damp and musty-smelling in the tunnel. Smoke and cinders from the smokestack flew past their heads. Louise smiled at Cranepool. He looked away from her. Mahoney saw the interaction and felt like laughing.
The train came to a stop.
“Well, here we are,” said Agoult. “Is this good enough?”
“Can you see us from the other side?” Mahoney asked.
“They can’t see us from either side,” Agoult said.
“Okay everybody!” Mahoney shouted. “Unload the explosives and bring them to the front of the train! And hurry, because we don’t have all day!”
The three crates of TNT were unloaded quickly. They were carried to the front of the locomotive and the wooden tops were pried away. Mahoney told the others to lay the three open crates of TNT in front of the train, while he took some wire and hand grenades and connived a booby trap. When the train came from the opposite direction it would trip the wires and set off the hand grenades, which in turn would detonate the TNT. The collision and explosion ought to clog up the tunnel for a week at least, and prevent this railway line from being used to ship men and supplies to the Normandy beaches.
Mahoney put the finishing touches on his little demolition job. He’d received special demolition training at Fort Benning and it had been the most interesting subject he’d ever learned in the Army. He loved to see things get blown up, and if you knew what you were doing you could make every little stick of TNT or dynamite go a long way.
He checked his work one more time, and it was perfect. Then he pulled the pins from the hand grenades, arming them.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
They took their weapons in hand and followed Mahoney out of the tunnel and into the rain again.
When he said, “I think we might as well get rid of the German uniforms now,” Leduc and Baudraye removed their uniforms, throwing them behind some bushes. Then Mahoney looked around, trying to find a good spot to hide and wait to see the big explosion.
“What are you looking for?” Leduc asked.
Mahoney told him.
“You mean we will have to stay here!” Leduc said.
“That’s right. Otherwise how are we going to know whether or not the tunnel is destroyed?”
“But Mahoney, it will be very dangerous to hang around here.”
“I’m not saying it won’t be. You don’t have to stay if you’re afraid.”
“Afraid?” Leduc asked, puffing out his chest. “I am not afraid.”
“Glad to hear that. I think we should look for a ridge or some other natural hiding place on the other side, so we can watch the approach of the train when it comes and see it enter the tunnel.”
Leduc nodded in assent. Mahoney rearranged his rifle sling on his shoulder and led the way over the steep hill beside the tunnel. It was slow going, because they had to be careful they wouldn’t fall down the hill. They held onto bushes and rocks to steady themselves. It took them fifteen minutes to reach the other side. There, Mahoney spotted some boulders and bushes fifty yards from the tunnel entrance, and about twenty yards from the tracks themselves. He told them to take positions behind the boulders, and they did so.
Now began the long wait for a train. Mahoney sat with his back against a boulder and lit another cigarette. He took a sip from
his canteen and wished he had something to eat. He hoped the train wouldn’t take too long to arrive. Turning his head, he saw Cranepool and Louise behind a boulder, engaging in an urgent whispered discussion. Mahoney grinned as he puffed his cigarette. He looked at his watch; it was a little after five. Odette sat down beside him.
“Have you got an extra cigarette?” she asked.
“Sure.” He took out his pack and offered her one. She was wearing brown cotton slacks and he could perceive the fine shape of her leg. He lit her cigarette with a match, and wished once again that the train would hurry and come. Then he could eat something and maybe do certain things that might take his mind off the war for a while.
He noticed a wicked little gleam in her eye and figured she probably was thinking the same thing.
Chapter Eighteen
The radio on the dashboard of the Mercedes-Benz began to squawk the call letters of Major Richter. Piecke lifted the microphone off its hook and handed it to the major in the back seat. The limousine was making its way through a storm on a road near Tours, on its way back to La Roche-Guyon.
Richter pressed the button on the microphone and spoke his call letters. He depressed the button and heard the voice of his secretary at La Roche-Guyon coming from the loudspeaker behind the dash.
“Major Richter,” said his secretary, an SS corporal named Schultz, “you said to call you if any new intelligence came in concerning that stolen locomotive, and although I don’t have anything yet, I’ve just received a message from Lieutenant-Colonel Niekish from the railroad yards at St. Jean-de-Daye —do you know who I’m referring to, sir?”
“Of course I know!” Richter said testily. “What is the message, you idiot!”
“He called to report something he considered unusual, sir. He said that the railroad tracks between Vernisset and Athanase have been switched under mysterious circumstances, and then returned to their normal position. He said to tell you that although the switching was unauthorized, the signal might have been caused by a short circuit due to the rain.”
“Hmmm,” said Richter. “Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“Be certain to call me if any other information of this nature comes in.”
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