A Yankee Flier in Italy (a yankee flier)

by Rutherford G. Montgomery Al Avery

  “But they’ll search every foot of the woods and every hut,” Allison objected.

  “They do a very good job of hunting down escaped men,” Stan agreed.

  “We might fool them if we hide in the Sachetti villa. They would never think of looking for us there,” Tony said.

  “An excellent idea, but how can we get in without being discovered?” the general asked.

  “There’s an outside air shaft leading down into the cellars. It is covered with vines and there is a tree growing beside it,” Tony said. “I used to be able to slide down that shaft.”

  “A good idea,” Stan said. He was beginning to realize that Tony would not be able to travel very far or very fast. “Let’s get going.”

  “See, they are making a circle around the woods,” Tony said.

  Lights were flashing above and below them. But the Germans did not seem to think it necessary to throw a line between the woods and the house. Arno and General Bolero helped Tony. Stan and Allison brought up the rear. They moved through the trees and across a garden thickly planted with shrubbery and grapevines.

  Behind them the woods were filled with German soldiers. The searchers had fanned out into the valley below and upon the hills above the villa.

  “Here is the shaft,” Tony said as they halted in the black darkness under a tree.

  Stan could see nothing that looked like a shaft or like the roof of a wine cellar.

  “We must be careful not to disturb the vines or the bushes.” Tony laughed softly. “Mr. Sachetti went to a great deal of trouble in hiding the cellar and the shaft. He said they ruined the beauty of his garden.” Tony was pushing aside bushes as he spoke. Finally he called very softly. “Come now.”

  The raiders moved under the spreading branches of the tree and from there they crawled under a leafy vine. They found an open shaft with a high metal cone over it. Tony and Arno went down first. When the general tried it he had trouble squeezing down the shaft. Stan was the last to slip through. He lowered the guns and grenades to Allison before he descended. Sliding down he found himself in total darkness.

  “Now we have to hide. The Germans will be coming down here often for wine.” Tony spoke eagerly. “We’ll hide behind the vats containing the new crop of grapes. The Germans will drink only the old wines. They are on this side.”

  Feeling their way they located a row of huge barrels and crawled in behind them. Stan and Allison located themselves near the outside barrel.

  “We can hear the doors open when anyone comes down here,” Tony said. “The hinges are rusty and will squeak loudly.”

  “How about dressing your wound now, Tony?” General Bolero suggested. “I will tend to it myself.”

  CHAPTER XIV

  NIGHT FLIGHT

  The creaking hinges of the wine cellar door served as a warning signal to the hiding men behind the wine casks. Every time a German orderly was sent for wine they knew he was coming before he had even entered the short passageway leading into the main room. Usually the men were sent in pairs, sometimes three or four came. The men always had liberal samples of the wine before filling the decanters for the officers.

  The cellar was damp and smelled of rotting wood and stale wine. The space behind the wine casks was limited and legs developed cramps as the night and the next day wore on. Belts had to be tightened over empty stomachs, but there was no complaining. Tony regained his strength and with it his belief that they would escape.

  “We can’t very well climb back out of that chute,” Allison said for the tenth time. “We’ll have to plan some other strategy. It’s three p.m. right now and we still don’t have any ideas. We have to be up at that wheat field by midnight.”

  “I’ll slip out into the hallway and have a look,” Stan offered.

  “And get caught,” Allison said sourly.

  Further talk was halted. The hinges of the door creaked dismally. Four men entered and turned on the small light over the row of old wine barrels. They talked and had a few drinks before filling the pitchers they carried. There was much laughing and joking. When they had gone, Allison translated their conversation.

  “We finally have some information,” he said. “The Germans blame the Italian peasants for our disappearance. They are sure the peasants spirited us away and they are taking reprisals.”

  “That is like them,” General Bolero said sadly.

  “And here is the big news. The Germans figure we have escaped and will reach the British lines in the south. They expect a bombing raid upon this spot, similar to the one on the Bolero villa. So tonight they will evacuate under cover of darkness and they will put this place, wine cellar and all, to the torch before they go.” Allison laughed.

  “When are they going?” Stan asked.

  “They plan to get out as soon as darkness comes to cover their movements from our air force, which seems to have taken over the sky. As soon as they have evacuated they will destroy the place. I gather the high command has ordered that every place evacuated is to be destroyed in revenge for Italy’s quitting the war.”

  “So. We have to get out of here by dark,” General Bolero said. “And that we will do.”

  “I hope so,” Stan said.

  “We will evacuate with the Germans,” the general said. “That is our only chance.”

  “Right-o,” Allison agreed.

  “So we may as well lay a few plans.” The general seemed eager to get into action.

  “We could shoot our way out,” Tony suggested.

  “We would do better to use our heads,” the general said firmly.

  “We ought to be able to take over one of the gangs sent here to get wine. The German officers will want to haul away all of this fine wine they can possibly take with them,” Stan said.

  “Now we’re beginning to get places,” Allison agreed.

  For the next hour they planned and talked. Tony explained the route they would have to take to get to the field where O’Malley was to pick them up. No one said anything about O’Malley’s not being there at midnight. Their big worry was to get to the field themselves.

  It was well after dark, according to their watches, when things began to happen. An officer and a squad of soldiers entered the cellar. The officer barked commands at the men for a few minutes, then marched off.

  The raiders crowded close to Allison to learn what had been ordered. Allison whispered his report while the men a few feet away began rolling barrels from the racks.

  “They are taking the old wine. The new wine in these vats is to be poured out. The barrels are to be smashed. They have a drum of gasoline outside and will pour it into the cellar and set fire to it as they leave.” Allison paused. “They have a simple method worked out for emptying these barrels. After the gasoline is set afire the men are to toss a few grenades in here to smash the barrels and make certain the cellar is destroyed.”

  “We better take over right now,” Stan said. “Those birds have only side arms. We’ll slide out with our tommy-guns covering them. Each take a barrel and when I whistle step out.”

  The German workmen were startled out of their wits a second or two later when five armed men stepped out from behind barrels and covered them with machine guns and a rifle. They stared at General Bolero, blinked their eyes wildly, and then elevated their arms toward the ceiling.

  “Tie them up,” Stan ordered. “Take the door with Arno.” He nodded to Allison. “If any more men come, cover them and bring them back here.”

  Tony and the general and Stan got busy. It took a little time to bind and gag eight men when the bonds and gags had to be ripped from their clothing with trench knives. Before that was finished Allison and Arno added two more noncom officers who had come in to hurry up the squad.

  “I suggest we each roll a barrel outside,” General Bolero said. “We can use them as something to hide behind if we meet resistance.”

  “Good idea,” Stan agreed. He turned to Tony. “Can we get out without charging the main gate? If we rouse
the Germans, we’ll be in the same spot we were in the first time we got loose.”

  “I don’t think so,” Tony answered.

  The problem was solved by the appearance of an officer. He bellowed angrily into the cellar, then took a step or two into the dark passageway. That was a mistake. Allison tapped him over the head with a gun barrel and dragged him back.

  “He says the villa has been fired. There is only a few minutes to load up and get out.” Allison laid the officer beside his men.

  “We won’t tie him up. When he comes to he can free his men. I wouldn’t roast even a German,” Stan snapped. “Get a barrel and let’s get going.”

  The floor and the passageway sloped gently down into the cellar because the barrels always came in full and went out empty. The boys soon discovered that it took two of them to roll a heavy barrel. They managed to get three barrels rolling and headed for the entrance.

  Outside they found a big van with a driver who was dancing up and down shouting. Three planks sloped up into the truck. The first barrel hit the planking and the boys heaved it up. The driver was yelling wildly and he had every reason to yell. The yard was as light as day. Flames licked up all around the house and the smaller buildings blazed furiously. The heat was intense and the smoke was thick.

  Allison snapped an order at the driver and the fellow put a shoulder against the next barrel. No sooner had he leaned forward than Arno tapped him over the head with his pistol butt.

  “Get our guns and the sack of grenades and flares,” Stan shouted. “Arno, you drive.”

  They had two barrels in the back of the van where they could be seen. In a moment the guns and the grenades were in the truck along with Tony, the general, and Allison. Stan armed himself with a tommy-gun and rode up front with Arno.

  Out at the main gate guards were shouting and waving at the van to hurry up. No Germans remained in the courtyard. Arno started the van and they headed for the gate. The guards wanted a ride, but Arno had gotten up speed and did not stop. They roared down the driveway and headed out into the road. Foot soldiers were everywhere. Arno slipped into a line of trucks and they chugged along toward the settlement. They reached it without mishap, though a dozen officers had shouted orders at them, and one captain had ridden several hundred yards on their running board. The complete blackout necessary to make a convoy movement safe helped a lot.

  Reaching the settlement, they were directed to a grove of trees where their truck was shoved back into deep cover.

  Allison came forward and got in with Stan. When an officer came along checking their load, he explained they had wine for the officers’ mess and suggested it be shoved deeper into the woods to keep it from being tapped by the soldiers. The officer cleared a pathway and led them deep into the timber beyond the rest of the convoy. He ordered the crew to report to a designated spot and then rushed off.

  The five raiders gathered beside the truck and broke out laughing.

  “So considerate of them,” Arno said.

  “I have never known the German army to be so co-operative before,” the general observed.

  “We better be on our way,” Stan said.

  They gathered up their things and headed into the woods with Tony leading the way. After an hour of searching and much argument between him and Arno they finally located a trail and followed it.

  Stan and Allison began to suspect the boys were lost, when suddenly they came out on a knoll. Above them, silhouetted against the starlit sky, were the two square-topped peaks.

  “See,” Tony said to Arno. “Now you must admit I was right.”

  “You were, I am sorry I argued.”

  “It’s twenty minutes to twelve,” Allison said anxiously. “How far is it to the wheat field?”

  “Just a ten-minute walk,” Tony answered.

  “We’ll hit it right on the minute,” Stan said eagerly. “Lead on.”

  Tony led them out of the woods and into the wheat field. They checked the wind and got out their flares. Arno took one, Tony another, while Allison took the red center marker.

  “Clear a space so as not to set the field of wheat on fire,” Arno warned. “I’ll show you how far to go.”

  Stan and the general went along, carrying the guns and grenades. They were about in the center of the field when they heard the roar of a plane motor. Stan listened and then grinned. The engine was a powerful radial. He was certain O’Malley was at the throttle.

  The plane swooped around and around high above while the boys got spaces cleared and everything set. Arno called to the others and the flares blossomed out. Looking up into the sky they waited. The plane circled and headed in. Suddenly a barrage broke loose from a hill a half mile away. A German battery had heard the plane and had spotted the flares. The gunners were shooting at the flares and by the dirt they were lifting they seemed to be getting the range.

  “He’ll be blown to bits when he lands!” Arno shouted.

  “We’ll have to move back or get blasted ourselves,” Allison called, breaking into a run.

  Shells were exploding close to them, kicking dirt over them, and the barrage was swinging toward them. Overhead the plane was coming in. It roared over their heads a few feet above the barrage.

  “Overshot it!” Tony yelled. “Now he’ll have to try again.”

  “And the Germans are coming!” Stan yelled. “Get set with the machine guns!”

  When a shell burst close to Allison, he stopped running. Suddenly he shouted, “He’s fooled them! He’s set down at the far edge of the field!”

  Sure enough, the plane had landed almost at the edge of the woods. It was swinging around. They all ducked and raced toward it. Stan got there first and was greeted by O’Malley’s voice from the plane.

  “Sure, an’ you got out the band for a welcome!”

  “As soon as they spot the flare of your exhausts the welcome will get hotter!” Stan shouted back.

  Loading up was only a matter of seconds, but the Germans on the hill and those charging down into the field had the Mosquito located and began pounding the lower end of the field. O’Malley headed into the barrage and hopped her off without getting a direct hit. They circled overhead and then swung south. Stan was seated across from O’Malley.

  “Have a nice trip?” O’Malley asked with a grin.

  “We did,” Stan answered.

  “I hear there’ll be a flock o’ tinware waitin’ for you when you get in.” O’Malley continued to grin. “The boys are bettin’ ten to one that you all got shot. I’ll be richer than Rockefeller when I get back.” He chuckled to himself.

  “Right now we could do with something to eat,” Stan said as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

  “Colonel Benson has a banquet spread for you. Have Allison get on the radio and tell him to put it on the table, and have him order me two apple pies.” O’Malley opened the Mosquito up another notch as he thought of the pies.

  Stan clicked on the intercom and got Allison. He felt, at the moment, as though he could stand a vacation, but glancing back he saw a great fire raging with an intensity that lighted the sky for a hundred miles. The Germans were destroying the historical city of Naples. There would be no vacation.

  THE END

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