He said tersely, `They’ve had a bit of bother, Captain.’ He gestured towards the shore. `Been running and hiding for days. The whole place is swarming with patrols.’ He sucked in long gulps of air. `But we’ve got Travis.’ He paused. `The bastard.’
`What about the others?’ Marshall knew that she had not returned. `I thought the dinghy was full.’
`Yes. We lifted off some of our chaps. A lieutenant in the S.A.S. who has been working with an Italian sabotage group. Also a wounded Italian. Communist, to all acounts. And Moss, the only one of the orignal party.’
`And the rest?’
‘Major Carter and Mrs. Travis went inland, tip towards the canal. It was the only way they could draw off the nearest search party, Moss was shot in the thigh, so he couldn’t help.’ He sighed. `I’m afraid there’s nothing we could do to save the others.’
Warwick’s head appeared over the side of the bridge. `Lieutenant Buck’s asked if he can close the fore hatch, sir.’
Marshall said, `Tell me, Major, do you think they’ve been caught?’
Cowan nodded. `They intended to be captured. Nothing else would have convinced the enemy. If they’d taken Travis too, we might never have got our information.’
Marshall thought about the drifting flare. It must have been to call off the hunt. To inform the searchers chers they had captured the enemy agents.
He said swiftly, `Get the first lieutenant up here immediately. I’m going forrard.’
He flung himself over the side of the bridge and hurried along the wet casing, with Warwick and the major close behind him.
The dinghy was still in the water. As if they had anticipated his reactions.
Buck said, `This is bloody bad, sir.’
Marshall sought out the figure he had just seen speaking to Cain.
`Are you the S.A.S. officer?’
‘That’s right, sir. Smith’s the name.’ He was a very small man.
‘Do you know this area well?
The lieutenant glanced at Cowan, but the latter merely snapped, `Tell him.’
`Fairly well. I wasn’t involved with this affair.’ He added bitterly, `I’m afraid I’d have shot that Travis character.’
Marshall tried to control his racing thoughts. `I’m going ashore.’
The little man froze, his arm in mid-air.
Marshall continued sharply, `Do you think we could find them? Get them away?’
Smith shrugged. `Not much chance. But the Eye-ties are in this sector. They’ve got strict orders to hold prisoners until their German allies arrive. The Gestapo, I would think.’ He nodded slowly. `I’ll come with you.’ He turned slightly. `How about it, Major?’
Cowan replied dully. `I’ve got to start the investigation on Travis. I’ve got my orders. I’m sorry.’ He moved closer. `Look, Marshall, I don’t know about your motives, I’m not sure I want to. But I’d advise you to drop it, here and now. It’s a risk we have to take in this game. Today, them. Tomorrow, well, who knows?’
Gerrard appeared on the casing, his thin figure stooping as he groped along the guardrail.
Marshall said, `I’m going ashore, Number One. You will assume command and rendezvous here in four hours.’
Smith muttered, `It’ll take all of that, Captain.’
Marshall ignored him. `If I fail, you can go all out until you reach safety. It’ll be an easy run. Make as many detours as you like. Send our private signal when you’re well clear, and Simeon will tell you where to dock, right?’
Gerrard exclaimed, `It’s madness. You’ll never stand a chance. I - I can’t allow you to do it.’
Petty Officer Cain called softly, `Five volunteers be enough, sir?’
Marshall looked at him. `Thank you. Machine-pistols and grenades. Just like they taught us in Scotland.’
He turned to Lieutenant Smith. `Are you sure you can manage another trip?’
The little man chuckled. `Actually, I’ve been resting up in the old monastery for close on a week. Sipping wine and taking it easy, until this lot tumbled in on me. I guess that bit of cover has been blown for good.’
Gerrard said harshly, `For God’s sake, sir! What shall I say if you get caught?’
‘Apologise, Bob. Say I’m sorry.’ He gripped his arm. `This is important. To we.’
`I’ve mustered the men, sir.’ Cain was already in the dinghy again. `I had a feelin’ you might try some trick or other.’
Marshall looked round at the silent figures. `Close the fore hatch and stand well offshore.’ He turned to Gerrard. `Dive if you like. It’ll be your decision.’
He saw him nod jerkily. `Take it easy, Bob.’
Then he felt Warwick strapping the heavy holster around his waist, heard him whisper fervently, `Take me
too, sir.’
`No, Sub.’ He slithered over the side of the casing, feeling the spray on his legs and feet. `My party, this time.’
He gripped a paddle. `Shove off. Let’s see how fast we can move this thing !’ When he turned his head he saw the submarine looming above him, and felt a sharp sense of loneliness. Then as it slid slowly into deep shadow he said, `It’ll probably do us good to stretch our legs.’ He heard someone chuckle, and marvelled at the way he could find such stupid remarks to sustain them.
Smith said, `I know a likely place. The only one where the local patrols would hold them until the Jerries arrive. If I’m wrong, we can forget it. It ll be dawn in four hours. After that… .’ He left the rest unsaid.
As the shoreline took on a more definite shape nobody spoke, and Marshall was conscious of the tension all around them. Only when he looked at the men crouched in the dinghy did he feel any sort of doubt. What right had he to endanger their lives?
Cain: said suddenly, “fire’s a bit of beach, sir. We’ll ‘ave to wade the last part.’
They scrambled into the water, and Marshall felt the gentle undertow pulling at E’s feet like an embrace, But the touch of land, the absence of steel and busy machinery, helped to steady him, and he said, `Two stay with the dinghy. If we don’t come back you will rendezvous with Lieutenant Gerrard. I’ll leave the choice to you, P.O.’
Smith murmured, `Quite a bunch, sir. They seem eager to get their heads shot off!’ It appeared to impress him.
Cain squelched through the damp sand. `Told ‘em, sir. We’re ready when you are.’ He drew the heavy machinepistol from its holster and cocked it.
Smith held a wrist compass to his eyes. `Follow me. Keep quiet, and freeze when I do.’ He seemed even smaller amongst the sailors. ‘If you have to fight, then fight. No fancy stuff, or you’re dead before you start. Just get in and kill the bastards.’ He grinned. `Try and think of them all as senior officers! Makes it easier!’ Then he turned on his heel and strode up a steep bank, away from the water’s edge.
Only once did he pause, and that was to whisper in Marshall’s ear. `You know, Captain, it might just come of After all, nobody but a raving lunatic would attempt this sort of caper!’
`Better rest up for a bit.’ Smith sat down on the ground, his machine-pistol in his lap. `Get our bearings.’
Marshall knelt beside him, every muscle groaning in protest. They had been on the move for about an hour without any break. Smith certainly knew his territory, and had guided them along a small coast road before striking inland through rough and deserted countryside. Occasionally he had. pointed into the darkness, describing an invisible village, or some local track which led to isolated dwellings which he had gathered in his mind like a map.
He said, `I’ve been working north of Terracina. There’s a railway cutting in the hills. The local guerrillas want to blow it up. I had to dissuade them.’ He chuckled. `To explain that it might be needed by us one of these fine days.” He rolled on to his side. `Hold it!’
They all dived into the grass, hearing the dull rumble of vehicles growing and then fading just as quickly into the stillness.
He said calmly, `They’ve taken the other road. Probably troops called off from t
he hunt.’ He looked at Marshall curiously. `This is an odd way for a sailor to fight a war, if I might venture an opinion?’
‘It’s an odd war.’
Smith stood up. `Quite. Time to move, boys. About two miles farther, there’s a police post on the road junction. Two storeys and a couple of small outbuildings. Used to belong to the Caribinieri. Now they have a permanent squad of soldiers.’
They walked on in silence, feet kicking up dust and tiny stones at the roadside, their weapons probing the darkness.
`There’s a light, sir.’ Cain stood on a pile of discarded logs. He sounded excited.
Smith nodded. `That’s it.’ He looked at the three seamen. `I’ll want you on the opposite side of the road from the police post.’ He peered up at the sky. `There should be a telephone cable somewhere. That can be cut as soon as we move in. Just in case it takes longer than we’ve planned.’
They moved forward more cautiously, each man holding himself low as if to avoid a sudden burst of gunfire.
The police post was very easy to see. It was white-walled, so that the double gates were equally visible, like a gap in a perfect set of teeth.
Smith gestured to Marshall. `One sentry. Just inside. See his cigarette?’ He waited and added patiently. `You’re new at this, eh?’ He sighed. `I’m sure you’re a damn good submarine commander, but this is something different.’ He dropped into a crouch. `The guardroom is directly opposite the gates. Usually about ten men and a lieutenant. He lives in the village, but tonight it’s my guess he’ll be right on the spot, ready to boast to the ferries.’
`Car coming, sir!’
`Down!’
They flopped into the long, coarse grass as the engine grew louder along the road.
Smith said, `Small and fast.’
Marshall felt the dust on his face, the grass pricking his chin. Then he saw the headlights sweeping across the front of the white wall, heard a startled challenge, which was followed immediately be a string of angry words. In German.
Smith murmured, `Bad. The Krauts are here now. That makes it a bit naughty.’
Doors slammed, and after more muffled shouting the solitary cigarette reappeared by the gates as the Italian sentry recovered from the interruption.
Smith snapped, `Right. Here we go.’ He prodded the men nearest him. `One of you each end of the wall, but this side of the road. That’ll give good cross-fire.’ He handed something to the third seaman. `Up that pole and cut the wires. Then be ready to move.’ He restrained him roughly. `Not yet, man! Where are your manners?’
Cain whispered uneasily, `That leaves us then, sir.’
‘S’right.’ Smith was examining his grenades. `Rather like the Wild West. No finesse. You just go in and let rip.’ He seemed satisfied, and reached down to pull a commando dagger from his boot. `Okay?’
They nodded.
Smith rolled slowly across the road, as if he was being blown over and over by some silent wind. Against the wall his small figure was clearly etched, but he looked more like a distorted shadow than a man.
Marshall gripped the heavy pistol, trying to remember what he had been told about the safety catch. When he lifted his eyes he realised Smith had vanished, and for an instant longer he imagined that he had started back across the road.
Cain exclaimed, `Christ! ‘E’s done for ‘im!’
There was not even the slightest sound. But the glowing cigarette was moving very slowly, lower and lower, until at length it was a tiny red spot on the ground.
Marshall sprang to his feet. `Cut the wires!’
With Cain beside him he ran across the road and almost fell across the spreadeagled corpse of the dead sentry. Smith was kneeling beside it, wiping his knife carefully on the man’s coat before replacing it in his boot.
He stood up and gestured towards the main building. They followed him very slowly, aware of the buzz of voices, the smell of petrol from the small car which had just arrived. It had a German cross on its canopy, and had been driven hard.
Smith’s head showed briefly against a lighted slit in some shutters. Then he whispered, `A good dozen in there. Swilling vino.’ He rubbed his chin. `No Germans, and no Italian officer either.’ He reached up and gently tested the corner of the shutters. `Careless bastards.’ He drew two genades from his pouch and added, `Two each. Pull out the pins, release the levers, count two, and then pop them into the window.’ He slung his pistol over his arm. `Just pray to. God there’s no unbreakable glass. If there is, we’ll have six grenades for company!’
`Marshall pulled the pin from a grenade, and holding the lever flat with his fingers, jerked out the pin from another. He saw Cain following his example, and wondered if they could hear his heart pounding.
Smith had only withdrawn one pin. With his free hand he took hold of the shutter.
`Ready? Right, release ‘em!’ As the five levers clattered in the yard Smith dragged back the shutter with all his strength. `Now!’
The smash of breaking glass, the attendant shouts of surprise and then terror, were almost drowned by Cain yelling, `Jesus, I’ve dropped one of ‘em!’
Smith bent down and scooped the live grenade off the ground, and hurled it after the others. He had barely time to pull the pin of his own grenade and throw himself beside Marshall and Cain before the front of the building erupted in one great burst of fire and noise. Glass, woodwork and stones flew across the yard and clattered against the wall and on to the road beyond, and from above came a deluge of broken tiles and huge lumps of plaster.
Smith yelled, `Inside!’
He kicked open the sagging door and dashed into the room. The light had been broken, but enough filtered from a passageway at the rear to show the devastation and death left by the grenades. In a dark corner someone was screaming and choking, the sounds inhuman. Smith aimed a short burst of automatic fire, the flashes lighting up staring eyes and gleaming wounds before hiding them once more. The screaming stopped.
Smith was already in the passageway, his pistol cutting down a terrified man in a cook’s apron who had cone careering round a comer at the far end. He reached another door and threw his weight against it, falling almost flat as the catch collapsed, allowing the light to spill into the smoke-filled corridor, momentarily blinding them.
A single shot came from the room, cutting plaster from the wall by Marshall’s shoulder. He saw an Italian officer staring at him wildly, an automatic in his hand as he aimed for another shot.
Smith screamed, `Get himP
Marshall did not feel any pressure, just the gun jumping in his grip, and saw the officer spin round like a puppet, the wall beyond him splashed with patches of bright scarlet.
Cain shouted, “Ere’s the major, sir!’
He was still wearing his shabby businessman’s suit, but there was dirt all over it, and he had lost one of his shoes. He must have been shot several times an the moment of capture, and his face was barely recognisable.
Smith barked, `That door! Cover it!’
The door in question was at the other side of the room, narrow and heavily studded. It was opening very slowly, and after the horror of the grenades and the sight of Carter’s riddled body it was all the more unnerving. Marshall could feel himself gritting his teeth and panting like a wild animal, and his eyes watered with frantic concentration. Further and further, until a long slit of light played across the room, over the dead Italian and on to Cain’s boots. After a slight pause, a hand appeared. It was holding a white handkerchief
Smith said tersely, `A truce, eh?’ He was grinning, but his face was a picture of cold determination.
He yelled, `Come out with your hands up!’ In a quieter tone he added, ‘If they so much as blink, let ‘em have it!’
There were two of them. Both in black uniforms, and so much alike they could have been brothers.
Smith gestured to the floor. ‘Down! Hands behind your heads!’
The Germans understood well enough and laid down without a word beside the dead offic
er.
Smith said quietly, ”Watch’em, Cain.’ Then very gently he pushed the door wide open and danced nimbly around the frame.
Marshall followed, the gun almost slipping from his fingers as he saw the girl. She was lying on a heavy table, her arms and legs tied to its corners. She was naked, and in the overhead light looked like a small broken statue.
Smith snapped, `Don’t touch her!’
He moved swiftly to the table, while Marshall stood motionless by the door. There were wires connected to the girl’s breasts and thighs, they in turn were attached to a small metal box beside the table. The box was humming gently. Like something alive.
Smith dropped his pistol and ran his fingers over a line of controls. The humming stopped, and he said quietly, `Now give me a hand, for God’s sake.’
Marshall took her head in his hands, his eyes smarting as he saw the raw marks on her body, the blood on her mouth where someone had punched her,
Smith held his breath and unclipped the wires one by one. Only then did she open her eyes, her tongue touching her lips, her stomach contracting as if to resist some new torture.
Marshall whispered, `It’s all right. Please, it’s all right.’
Smith was struggling out of his long leather coat. ‘Here. Get her into this.’ He held Marshall’s eyes. `Fast as you like.’ He shouted to Cain, `You all right?’
‘Yes.’ A pause. `But I think I ‘card voices at the rear.’ `More sentries.’
Out in the open 265
Smith watched as Marshall eased the girl from the table. Just one movement made her cry out, and then she fell limply against him.
`Carry her.’ Smith jammed a fresh magazine into his pistol. `Let’s move.’
As Marshall carried the girl through the adjoining room, Smith called, `You two. In here. Schnell!’
The two Gestapo men scrambled to their feet, one darting a quick glance at Marshall as he passed. Smith backed out of the cell, pausing for just one moment to study the two Germans as they stood awkwardly beside their table with its electric box.
He took the last grenade from his pouch and threw it at their feet, before leaping outside and dragging the heavy door behind him. He heard them scream, felt their frantic fists against the door before the grenade exploded. He watched the dust and smoke spouting around the edges and said, `Sleep well, you bastards!’
Go in and Sink! Page 22