by Ron Smoak
Dane and Maas slammed against the wall, Dane getting a hand free to pummel Maas’ face with three sharp punches. Maas’ face was red and swelling fast. Blood from his wound flowed down his chest. With a quick spin, Maas was behind Dane, his one arm around Dane’s neck and his other arm up under Dane’s armpit and behind his neck. This was effectively a half nelson wrestler’s hold. It was very hard to recover from the hold. Maas felt he had the upper hand, but again he was wrong.
Dane jerked his head back, slamming the back of his head into Maas’ nose. There was an explosion of blood as Maas’ grip loosened and he fell back to the floor. Dane lunged toward Maas, hoping to take advantage of the pain and disorientation caused when one has his nose broken. Maas, however, had recovered enough to catch Dane in mid-air and fling him over into the hard rock wall near the fireplace. Dane’s head crunched hard into the hot stone, nearly knocking him out. As he struggled to get up again, he felt Maas’ huge arms around him again. Another half nelson... This time Dane was ready for it.
Dane fumbled with his free hand and located another large combat knife within his waistband, under his vest. As the two men danced across the room in an embrace of death, Dane pulled the knife and with a quick blow stabbed the knife between Maas’ legs and deep into his crotch. Maas’ eyes bulged from his face as Dane lifted Maas up on the razor-sharp blade and jerked the knife up and out between the legs of Maas.
The razor-sharp combat knife did its duty. Maas’ grip lightened as the extreme, stinging pain ran like lightning through his loins as he realized his manhood was sliced from him. Maas released his grip on Dane and instinctively reached for his crotch, now gushing blood. Dane’s knife severed Maas’ genitals and opened the entire underside of his crotch from back to front. Dane stepped back as a part of Maas’ insides simply dropped to the floor with a disgustingly sounding spat. With his entrails hanging from his bloody body, Maas looked at Dane with a strange calm look and then down at his guts on the floor.
“Die, you son-of-a-bitch,” Dane said, looking directly into Maas’ eyes. “Your guts are on the floor and you have tortured your last victim. You should have never screwed with my sister!” Maas’ eyes widened as he realized Dana was Dane’s sister. That was why this man was so hell-bent in rescuing her. But that was Maas’ last thought as he fell to the ground in a huge pool of blood which was getting larger each second. “That was a nice day’s work,” Dane said as he stepped over to Dana and Randall. He took the keys from Dana and unlocked Randall’s chains. His sister and brother-in-law were now free.
“Oh, my God, Dane, are you all right?” asked Dana.
“Frankly, I’ve never felt better,” answered Dane with a smile. “I’m so glad to see both of you alive.”
Dana’s mind turned toward Grübner. “Can we get this poor man down?” asked Dana, looking over at him. He was hanging by his dislocated arms, his knees a few inches from the floor. If he wasn’t dead, he was very close. Dane stepped over to Grübner and with one hand lifted his head and looked into his eyes. The man was dead. He was Maas’ last victim.
“Dana, he’s gone,” answered Dane. “We can’t do anything for him now. “
“God, that poor man,” said Dana, tearing up. She felt a strange kinship with Grübner as they both had been at the mercy of Maas. She also realized she could have been hanging there dead as well.
Dane collected his weapon and looked about the room for the best way out. Now the hard part started. He had to get them out of this hellhole.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Monday, July 18, 2011
Outside Fortress Alpha; 8:10 a.m.
Ben watched calmly as yet another German patrol passed by his hiding place. Tim was to his right, also well hidden. Tecal and his men were still out in the jungle around them. With German patrols in all directions, Ben continued to have a view of the hatch. As the patrol moved away, several shots rang out to Ben’s left. It must be Tecal, thought Ben. Quickly there was return fire sounding like the German weapons they heard previously. Tecal’s men most likely were ambushing the Germans while staying out of direct confrontations.
Tecal’s men were similar to the forces of The Swamp Fox, Francis Marion. Marion was the Revolutionary War officer who led the militia back in Ben’s home state of South Carolina. His forces refused to line up as conventional forces did in European wars where the opposing forces lined up and took turns firing at each line until one side broke and ran. Marion’s men instead hid in the forests and pounced upon the redcoats as they passed on roads and trails in the woods. So unconventional were his ways, British officers complained he was not fighting fairly, as if war was fair.
Ben removed his silencer from his weapon. He motioned for Tim to do the same. Immediately there was a rustling in the underbrush behind him. Ben raised his HK MP-5 submachine gun, moved the firing selector to automatic and waited. Five seconds later a German stepped into view not five feet from Ben. Ben looked the German in the eye and squeezed the trigger. The noise of the weapon was loud and the result fatal. The quick burst of the MP-5 sent five bullets into the German, ripping open his chest. He fell immediately. Thinking there may be a trailer, Ben remained alert. Ben jerked his head around as Tim fired a short burst and took down another German just off to their left. That was the trailing one, Ben surmised. Thankfully the two bodies fell into the underbrush and were virtually hidden. Tim crawled over to Ben.
“That was close,” Tim whispered.
“Too damn close,” answered Ben. “Those bastards are all over the map. We really stirred up a hornet’s nest this time but we are doing our job, causing a diversion. I hope Dane and Hugo are having better luck.”
“Have you heard anything from them?” asked Tim, his eyes still on the surrounding brush.
“No. I’m getting worried. It’s been several hours. They are either very successful or dead.”
“Damn,” sighed Tim.
More gunfire broke out further out to their left. They could hear cries of pain and then more gunfire.
“Any action with the hatch?” asked Tim.
“No,” answered Ben. “We must assume Dane and Hugo are okay. It would help if we could take some heat off of them.”
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. What say we hit the hatch and stir up some action,” said Tim.
After quickly checking their arms and ammo, Ben and Tim crawled their way toward the hatch and the bunker beside it. Now within twelve feet of the bunker, Ben flashed a thumbs-up sign to Tim and ran the last few feet to the empty bunker. Ben settled down inside aiming his weapon out of the front opening covering Tim. Within seconds Tim burst over the edge of the bunker and climbed in.
“So far so good,” reported Tim. “Cover me while I check the hatch.” Tim pulled a hand grenade out of his vest pocket and hung it on the outside of his vest. “I always wanted to do that again,” he grinned. “Just like my old military days.
Tim crawled from the bunker and moved the ten feet over to the hatch. He looked for a latch of some kind and found it on the back side of the hatch. He tried to open it. It wouldn’t budge. He reached back into his vest and extracted a small 3-by-3 inch cube of C-4 plastic explosive.
Deep inside the fortress, another alarm screamed. The outside sensors deployed earlier detected someone. That someone was Tim.
“Alarm at Hatch 0-122! The intruders are entering Hatch 0-122!” cried the technician on duty. The security supervisor bolted into the control center from his office.
“Report,” he ordered.
“I record multiple sensor alarms at Hatch 0-122,” the tech said calmly after settling his nerves a bit. “Several sensors around the hatch are detecting movement; possibly persons out there.”
The supervisor picked up the phone and called Maas’ office. Delper answered quickly. “We have multiple sensor alarms at Hatch 0-122.”
“Understood,” answered Delper. “I will inform Maas myself. Keep me apprised of the situation.” Delper hung up the phone and re-dialed th
e number down in the sub-basement. After ten rings he realized no one was answering the telephone. He turned and motioned to an orderly standing over beside a file cabinet. “Go down to the sub-basement and tell Captain Maas we have intruders coming in through Hatch 0-122. Go now!”
The orderly scampered off down the hall toward the elevator. Delper stood there staring at the map on the wall. He wondered if this was the beginning of the end both for himself and the fortress.
Each man carried several small cubes for heavy duty demolition as needed. Tim took the C-4 out of the wrapping paper and pressed the putty into the crack under the hatch lock. Once happy with the placement, Tim pulled out a detonator and small timer and connected the two. He checked the connection, set the fuse for twenty seconds and implanted the detonator into the C-4. Another quick check and he tripped the timer and leaped up and ran over to the bunker.
“Fire in the hole,” he said to Ben as they both ducked their heads. There was a medium-sized explosion and it was all over. Both Ben and Tim jumped from the bunker and ran over to the hatch, now lying about three feet from the opening in the ground. Ben peered in to see a small room painted white with a ladder leading down. He looked at Tim. “Your honors...”
Tim stepped up to the hatch and looked inside. Seeing no one, he scrambled down the ladder and stood beside the door leading from the room. He turned and looked back for Ben. That’s when he noticed a small red light flashing in the corner of the room.
“Ben, looks like there is an alarm. We are going to have company very soon,” said Tim, watching Ben descend the ladder. The two stood together for a second as Ben nodded to Tim. Tim opened the door leading to a hallway. He looked out and immediately met with a hail of gunfire. He jerked his head back in.
“Holy shit!” he exclaimed turning to Ben. “Change that…we have company.”
The continuous fire sent bullets and fragments bouncing off the walls and smacking into the door frame. Both Tim and Ben plastered themselves against the wall trying to avoid being hit. Tim took the grenade from his vest front and pulled the pin. He held on to the spoon.
“Which way is the fire coming from?” he asked Ben.
“Both ways,” answered Ben. Tim reached into his vest again and produced another grenade and pulled its pin. With both grenades armed, Tim waited for the inevitable lull in fire and stepped into the doorway. He released the two spoons, waited a second and threw a grenade in both directions. As he twirled around back into the inside wall, two loud explosions ripped through the hallway. There was concrete dust high and low. Both Tim and Ben heard moaning as they stepped into the hallway, one to the right and one to the left. The two aimed their weapons ahead and moved down the hall. Ben noticed the same room numbers Dane and Hugo reported. They were printed in German.
The hall to the right ended several feet down from the hatch room. Tim saw four dead Germans lying behind a short, quickly built sandbag wall. He checked to see all were dead and turned and gave Ben an all-clear call.
“Clear,” chirped Tim.
“Clear,” answered Ben, checking his victims at the other end of the hall. There were five more dead near him. At Ben’s end the Germans sandbagged the corner before the door to the elevator. Ben kept one eye on the elevator should it suddenly open and more troops poured out.
“Tim, over here. I found an elevator,” called Ben. Tim sprinted down the hall to meet Ben. They looked at the elevator lights and saw it was operational as it moved from floor to floor. It seemed to be locked out of this floor, though. Suddenly Ben and Tim were startled by a crackling message from a radio on one of the Germans’ bodies.
“Komandozentrale. Bericht...” Then there was static and silence. It took ten seconds until the second call came in.
“Komandozentrale. Nochmals. Wiederholen. Bericht ...”
“Sounds like company’s coming again,” said Ben. “Let’s get ready for ‘em.” Ben and Tim raced down the hall and dragged sandbags down, placing them against the elevator door. After about four trips they had a sizable wall built. Still watching the elevator lights, they waited. Every now and then they heard a few shots outside. Tecal and his men were doing a great job out in the jungle, Ben surmised.
“If the elevator comes, let’s cover both sides and lob in a grenade as soon as the door opens. They’ll first see the sandbags before us,” explained Ben. Tim nodded in agreement and pulled out two grenades and sat them on top of the sandbag wall. Tim was on the left and Ben was on the right of the elevator doors. They knew other Germans would come soon. Since no one answered the report calls, reinforcements were surely on their way. They waited.
Their wait was not long. Only two minutes passed when Ben saw the light outside the elevator light up for their floor.
“Heads up, here they come!” Tim picked up the grenades and pulled the pin, still holding the spoons of each. As the door opened the Germans inside began shooting. The door was not open a foot when Tim tossed the two grenades into the elevator.
“Granate!” someone screamed from within the elevator. But it was too late. The grenades rolled around at the Germans’ feet while some were still firing; others were on their knees scrambling for the grenades. The two explosions were deafening. The elevator door was completely torn off, making a scrambled mess of the men inside. When Tim peered in, there was nothing left in one piece. He couldn’t even count how many men were inside.
“That’s a damned mess,” he said to Ben. “But I doubt they will be able to use this elevator again.” Ben’s eyes widened.
“Okay. There has to be a stairway on this floor. Let’s find it!” Both men had forgotten about a stairway, a back door to the floor. Tim hustled down the hall opposite the elevator. Ben took off back toward the hatch. It was Tim who noticed a large door with a wire reinforced window.
“Here!” yelled Tim. Just as he called to Ben, he noticed movement behind the door. He stepped back and fired a burst into the door. Ben rounded the corner, not knowing what to expect. “They’re in the stairwell,” yelled Tim, moving away from the door. “I fired through the door and got a few of them but I don’t know how many are left.
“My guess is too damn many,” said Ben calmly. “They probably sent a force up the stairs at the same time they sent these guys up the elevator. They figured they would hit us from both ways. We foiled that plot.”
There was gunfire in the stairwell. The bullets slammed through the door and ricocheted off of the white painted concrete walls, sending lead bits and concrete chips flying in all directions. Tim was sitting in a doorway a few feet away from the stairway door leaning back into the door.
“Damn! “Tim screamed as he grabbed his head. “I’m hit.”
Ben looked over to see a rivulet of blood coming down the left side of Tim’s face. “How bad?” he asked. Tim realized he was bleeding but strangely it did not hurt.
“Must be a graze. I’m bleeding like a stuck pig but I seem to be okay.”
Tim raised his weapon and returned fire at the stairway door, riddling it again. He wiped more blood from his face and sat there. Ben moved down the hall on the other side beside the stairway door. He pulled out a grenade and placed it on the floor beside him. Tim looked at him puzzled.
“You gonna throw that thing at a closed door?” Tim asked loudly.
“Hell, no,” answered Ben. “It’s just in case we need some help,” he said smiling.
The firing stopped.
“Watch the door. They may have grenades too, you know,” warned Tim. He was still wiping blood from his face. Ben acknowledged with a nod. Suddenly there was a noise behind them. Ben turned and aimed to see Tecal peering around the corner.
“Mr. Ben!” called Tecal. “Mr. Ben, we have to go. Go now. Many, many Germans coming. My man see two trucks filled with men with guns.”
“Damn,” said Ben turning to Tim. “You hear that? Think you can make a run for it?”
“Yeah, we better vamoose,” answered Tim, holding a handkerchief to his head ne
ar the left side of his hairline. “We’ve done all we can here. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Monday, July 18, 2011
Inside Fortress Alpha; 8:20 a.m.
Hugo had held the far superior force at bay for a while now. There was a lull in the fighting as both sides took a breath and recalculated their actions. After Dane went down the stairs, Hugo was inundated with troops coming from both directions. He barricaded himself in a technical services area, sealed with the exception of the doorway he guarded. He kept one eye on the hallway and one on the stairwell across the hall. He looked out again and drew no fire.
“Okay, Hugo. It’s time to get the hell out of here,” he said to himself as he rose and checked his silenced MP-5. With that thought, Hugo burst from the room and threw himself across the hall into the stairway door. This time the door flew open and Hugo rolled into the stairwell. Immediately gunfire erupted from below. Hugo hugged the wall and climbed the stairs to the next floor. At the door he looked through the small wire-reinforced window and saw normal looking people walking by: normal by way of not having guns in their hands. He could also hear an audible alarm on this floor. He pressed his face against the glass and took another look. He saw a few folks dressed in gray coveralls, some in white technician coats hurrying down the hall.
By now he hoped Dane had found Dana and Randall. If not, then they probably wouldn’t find them at all. Hugo placed this in the back of his mind as he cracked open the door and stepped out into the hall, aiming his MP-5 submachine gun right and left down the hall. Personnel scrambled in all directions. Hugo was a bit puzzled. These were definitely not soldiers. They looked like normal workers. He decided to go to his right for no particular reason. He had a map inside his vest but this was not the time to sit down and read it. He needed to move and move fast.