A Question of Time

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A Question of Time Page 25

by James Stejskal


  Wheeler pulled a flask out of his pocket along with two plastic cups and poured Kaiser and Fischer each a good measure of bourbon.

  “Welcome aboard, gentlemen,” Wheeler said. “You are home free.”

  Both of them knocked the drink back. Kaiser held out his cup again.

  “Please sir, may I have some more?”

  As Wheeler poured, Stavros noted, “I think he’ll survive, but I can’t wait to hear the story.”

  36

  “Time for Police Call,” Becker said.

  Stuffing all the gear into two bags, he did a quick sweep of the grounds to make sure nothing was left behind. Satisfied, he and Mann grabbed a bag each and trotted back to the car.

  “That was pretty incredible.”

  “It was. I think we’ll make the history books but first, we have to survive the next phase. Let’s get out of here.”

  The car nosed out onto the road and headed south for the Helmstedt-Marienborn Autobahn. Mann used Becker’s NVGs for the first kilometers before he turned on the car’s headlights.

  “At least we don’t have as far to drive on the return route. We’ll be there fairly quickly.”

  It was indeed a short drive to their designated contact point. They would execute the pick-up in the reverse direction. The convoy would be heading west and they would meet it at a lay-by on the Autobahn.

  When they arrived, the lay-by was as deserted as they had expected and hoped it would be. Mann parked the car at the far end and both men got out. Becker walked the 100 meters of the lane to make sure it was clear. It was partially obscured from the main road by trees and it wouldn’t be long before the convoy arrived. Unlike the launch, the reloading of the car required the truck to be stationary. The trucks would roll in, and they would drive on to the truck and be away in minutes. As long as no one happened into the area they would be good.

  Becker was walking back when he heard some commotion up ahead. Mann was standing with a couple, his flashlight holding them in place like deer in the headlights. It was a young man and a young woman. Their hands were in the air.

  “What’s this?” he asked as he came abreast of his teammate.

  “I found these two kids lurking in the bushes behind the bench.”

  Becker looked them over. They were shaking but they appeared too old to be kids making out in the woods.

  “What are you doing out here?” Becker said.

  “We were just having some fun together. Our parents won’t let us be together at home.”

  “Show me your papers.”

  The pair surrendered their papers, pulling them from a small pouch that was stuffed with documents. Becker looked at the identity cards.

  “You’re twenty-five and twenty-three years old. Don’t you have jobs? Can’t you afford your own apartment? Let me see the pouch.” As he expected, it was full of official documents, birth certificates, and diplomas. A life in paper—just what any German trying to escape would want to take with them if they could. Mann went back to the bushes and was rooting around when he stopped and turned to Becker.

  “Boss, check this out.”

  Becker pulled out his pistol and made a show of intimidating the two.

  “Sit on the ground and don’t move.”

  The two sat. Becker walked over to where Mann was standing. Mann leaned over and grabbed two brown canvas bags, hefting them so Becker could see. They walked back to where the couple were sitting and dropped them on the ground.

  “Rucksacks? You two trying to catch a ride? The only reason you two would be out here at night with rucksacks would be to try and escape our wonderful country. Maybe you wanted to stow away on one of those damned NATO trucks that pass by?”

  The couple did their contrite best to explain their loyalty to East Germany and plead their innocence.

  “We will never do anything like this again.” Becker had no time for excuses.

  “So, essentially, you are admitting to attempted Republikflucht?

  Deserting the republic is a very serious crime and you could both go to prison for a long, long time.”

  Neither of them spoke or moved, but sat there gazing at him with wide, fearful eyes.

  “Get in the back of the car,” he said. He threw the rucksacks into the trunk.

  The couple climbed into the car. The young woman was crying and the man was holding her close. They slammed the doors shut and then Becker and Mann stepped away from the car.

  “What are you thinking, Boss? You got a plan for them?”

  “I’m thinking that we’ve only got a few minutes before the convoy arrives. We could run them into the village and dump them with a severe warning.”

  “You seem to be holding something back from me.”

  “When you did the final interview panel during selection, did they ask you any hypothetical questions?”

  Becker saw the lights of the trucks approaching. They had only a few moments.

  “Yes, they asked me when I would know it was time to shoot my insane team sergeant.”

  They both laughed.

  “No, not that one. The one about the shepherd?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “It goes like this, ‘You’re in enemy territory on a mission and a shepherd discovers your team. You realize he can compromise your presence. What do you do?’”

  “I don’t think we have time for me to think about the answer.” “Okay, one answer is that you can shoot him, which is not the school solution. Or, you can tie him up and leave him. Or, you can take him with you,” Becker said.

  Mann looked at the car, then at the approaching truck headlights, and then he looked at Becker. He grinned.

  “We take them with us.”

  “Good answer,” said Becker. “Go read them the riot act. Then tell them they’re going for a ride with us and for them to keep quiet or we’ll toss them back to the sharks.”

  “Got it, Boss.”

  The trucks came in single file and blocked the entire lay-by. The transportation captain climbed down from the first truck and walked up to Becker.

  “Ready to load?”

  “Yes, as ready as we can ever be.” “Who are your passengers?”

  “Captain, this is one time when you just might want to pretend you didn’t see anything.”

  Five minutes later, when the car had been winched up the ramp and the rear doors secured, the convoy moved west on into the night.

  Good progress was made until they reached the Soviet checkpoint at Marienborn Grenzübergangsstelle, the western exit from the GDR to West Germany. The transport officer climbed down to process the Flag Orders with the Russians, but was met with something he had never before experienced. A Russian major met him on the road instead of inside the small metal shed. Actually, a major never came out to meet the convoys; it was usually an officious lieutenant who tried to pretend he was much more than a lieutenant. A major had more power and could actually talk down to a captain.

  “We have a problem, Captain Welsh,” the major said. “We need to inspect the contents of your trucks.”

  Surprised that the major knew his name, the captain responded, “You know that isn’t going to happen, Major. You have no right to access American military vehicles.”

  “Then we wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “For orders from my headquarters.”

  “How long might that take?”

  “I am not sure, Captain. Maybe an hour, maybe a day. I can wait.”

  “We can’t, Major. You’re violating the treaty. Our rights of passage are well established. You don’t want a repeat of 1949 do you?” “It’s not my job to question orders. We wait.”

  “Major, this will not reflect well on you and your career when the United States protests and demands you be held responsible.”

  “I am not responsible, Captain. The Commander of Soviet Forces in Germany is responsible.”

  “We’ll see, Major. I have a job to finish and I will finish it on time
.”

  Captain Welsh climbed back into the cab of the truck. Welsh grabbed the radio handset and spoke a few terse phrases into the mike. A short response came back.

  “We wait. Fifteen minutes, no more,” he said to no one in particular.

  The Soviet guards wandered around the trucks and pulled on locks and levers and beat the sides of the trucks with sticks while the Americans sat inside, secure in the knowledge that all was locked up tight. At least they hoped so. Only one truck mattered, and it was secure.

  Fifteen minutes passed very slowly. One more radio conversation confirmed his plan and then Captain Welsh climbed out of the lead cab and walked up to the shed. At the same time he signaled to each driver to start his engines. The junior Russian soldiers stepped back. They looked at each other with the wide-eyed stare of soldiers who had no instructions. Welsh saw that they were unarmed as usual. This was, after all, a largely ceremonial checkpoint meant to demonstrate the occupation treaty and irritate the Allies.

  The major stepped out of the shed, clearly agitated. “Captain, what are you doing? You don’t have my clearance to move!”

  “Major, according to the occupation treaty you don’t have the authority to stop this convoy. I have reported the violation to my command and at this moment the Berlin Brigade and the 3rd Armored Cavalry have been alerted and are moving towards the checkpoints here and in Berlin. Unless you wish to escalate this to Moscow and Washington, I suggest you tell your folks to get out of the way.”

  The major was about to pull his pistol, but Welsh put up his left hand.

  “You don’t want to do that, Major. My men are armed and will defend themselves if fired upon. That is in the treaty.”

  Welsh held his Colt M-1911A service pistol at his side and the Russian’s eyes got very big when he saw it. Welsh thumbed off the slide stop and the hard steel slammed forward chambering a round with a ringing noise that made the major jump; it was a sound you don’t forget.

  “Captain, you will never transit this road again!”

  “Major, I go back to the States in two months. I hope you enjoy your return to the Motherland.”

  The major stood back and watched, contemplating which Siberian outpost he would soon be commanding.

  Whatever the Soviets planned, they hadn’t prepared their stop well. Had a T-64 arrived and parked on the road in front of them, the Americans would have been screwed, but there had not been enough time. Instead, there were six oil drums lined up across the road.

  Welsh motioned to the drivers to roll and the convoy edged slowly forward. The first HET nudged two of the barrels and pushed them until they crumpled and were crushed under the wheels. They were empty as Welsh had gambled. The trucks continued to move out of the holding area one by one. The Soviets must have thought the threat alone was enough to hold the convoy, but they hadn’t blocked the road and there was no physical barrier to hold them in place.

  As the last truck rolled by, Captain Welsh gave the Russian a half-assed salute and climbed into the pickup that followed. Welsh had counted on the time factor. “Too little, too late, and no specific instructions from higher up on how to hold us,” he said to the driver of the pickup who was holding the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip fully expecting to be shot in the back.

  The Russians stood by and watched. The major fumed.

  37

  The farmer threw open the doors of his barn. It was early morning and the sun had yet to break the eastern horizon. To the northwest, he could still see the city lights of Wolfsburg and reckoned it would be a couple of hours before there was enough light to work the fields. But he had other chores that needed to be done before dawn.

  Something, a feeling, made him turn and look across the field. A huge black shadow shot over the trees and hurtled past. It was only when the apparition was directly overhead that he heard the roar of engines. And then it was gone.

  All the farmer could think was that his chickens probably wouldn’t be laying any eggs that morning.

  Above, the crew was jubilant.

  “We are back in friendly airspace,” Tuck said. They had just crossed the inner German border, leaving behind the Iron Curtain and East Germany with two more passengers than they had started with.

  “Sembach is programmed into the box now,” he said.

  Up front, Cantwell and Bannerman relaxed. The plane was flying itself to their landing destination. Cantwell would only take up the reins again for the final approach.

  “Go check on our new arrivals,” Cantwell said. He looked as proud as a new father.

  Near the front bulkhead, Wheeler and Fischer were together talking in seclusion. In the far rear by the tailgate, Lindt and Stavros sat on the floor talking with Kaiser, who was flat on his back across the web seats, his leg elevated. Bannerman came back and knelt by Kaiser.

  “You guys did good out there. We’re proud to be part of your mission.”

  “So far, so good, for us at least. We have two more guys down there still in harm’s way.”

  “I’m sure they will be fine. If anyone can pull it off…” his voice trailed off as he saw Kaiser’s eyes drooping. “I think it’s his nap time. He deserves it.”

  “How much longer do we have?”

  “We’ve got a little bit less than an hour before we land. I’ll let you know just before we go final.”

  “Thanks, sir,” Stavros said.

  Bannerman spoke briefly with the loadmasters and the safety officer before he turned back to the nose of the aircraft. He pondered interrupting Wheeler but saw that he and the other man were deep in discussion. He decided whatever he had to say could wait and returned to the cockpit.

  Wheeler saw the co-pilot walk by and was happy he hadn’t interrupted their conversation. At first Fischer was fascinated by the airplane, everything from the winch that hauled him to freedom to the small luminescent panel lights that glowed in the dark when the main cabin lights went off.

  “You Americans have some amazing technology that I have never heard about.”

  “Some of it amazes me too, Herr Fischer. We will help you to get accustomed to the differences, but don’t worry, most of our daily life is pretty simple. But I must warn you, while there is a lot of freedom in our country, there is much aggravation as well.”

  “I think I will just have get used to both. Overall, I think it will be better and I am not going back there, even if you try to throw me back.”

  “We can’t send you back. Besides, we need your help to get your assets out. One of the first debriefing items will center on how we can safely contact them and extract them.”

  Fischer regarded Wheeler for a moment and then looked down at the floor. “Thank you. That has been one of my biggest concerns—the people I left behind.”

  “We will find a way to help them, don’t worry.”

  After the initial celebration, quiet returned to the crew and passengers. Almost everyone was alert and waiting for their arrival at the airbase, save Fischer and Kaiser who had settled back and closed their eyes. They were closely watched by their guardians.

  Forty minutes later, Captain Tuck hit the intercom button. “We’re ten minutes out, Colonel. Ready to take it back over?” “Roger, let’s have her back,” Cantwell said and took hold of the controls.

  The runways of Sembach Air Base loomed in the distance, brightly illuminated in the night. Cantwell called their approach: “Sembach Approach, this is Hurky 05. Request direct approach clearance.”

  “Hurky 05, Sembach Tower, you are cleared for emergency approach on Runway 24.”

  “Roger, Sembach. We have you visual now. We’re coming in low, require medical assistance on landing.”

  “Hurky 05, Roger. Emergency services have been deployed.”

  The aircraft hurtled over the threshold at 110 knots, the wheels contacting the runway 50 meters further on. Brakes applied and props reversed brought the big bird to a near halt close to a taxiway ramp. Red lights twinkled up and down the taxiway markin
g the fire trucks and emergency vehicles underneath. The plane turned and rolled to a hangar at the extreme north end of the base. The vehicles followed. The hangar door was open as was the ramp on the Hercules.

  By the time Hurky 05 got to the hangar, two of its four engines were shut down. The last two were barely turning over as the plane jerked to a halt inside. An ambulance rolled up to the rear and waited, while on the flight deck, Cantwell and Bannerman shut down the systems.

  Four men approached the ramp and watched as they heard it whine down onto the hangar floor. When it touched the ground they clambered up into the cargo hold. Stavros met them at the top of the ramp.

  “They pulled it off with only one hitch. Kaiser got wounded in the thigh. Lindt checked it out and says it’s non-life threatening. We don’t know the story of what happened yet, but Becker put him on the exfil and stayed with Mann on the ground.”

  “And our guest?” Murphy asked.

  “He looks to be fine. He’s up in the corner there with your man Wheeler.”

  Stavros pointed at the forward corner of the hold where the two were still huddled.

  Jelinek grabbed Stavros’ hand and shook it, “Well done. The rest of the team should be out soon.”

  Bergmann thumped Stavros on the back and followed the commander to check on Kaiser. Kaiser tried to sit up when he saw the colonel approach.

  Lindt put his hand on Kaiser’s shoulder and stopped him. “Don’t. You’ll pass out, we haven’t replaced any of the fluids you’ve lost and the alcohol won’t help you much,” he warned.

  Jelinek and Bergmann both kneeled by Kaiser. “How are you?

  What happened?”

  “My man Lindt here tells me I will survive, so I’m good, I think. A Stasi guy tried to stop us. He didn’t but I got winged in the process and he’s out of the game for good. Becker handled the rest, I think. Maybe the German can fill you in on the details.”

  “I think this is why we send you guys to the aidman’s course,” said Bergmann to Lindt.

 

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