The Rat Patrol 3 - The Trojan Tank Affair (10 page)

"What do you mean, different?" Troy snapped.

"The guy that's running this convoy didn't even put out a guard," Tully drawled.

"That's right, and you know what?" Hitch said. "I'll bet there are a dozen GIs ready to step forward and swear they mowed down those Arabs."

"Two of them better show up with Very pistols," Tully said indifferently, holding his hand out to Troy in the light of the lantern for his matches. "I bet none of them think of that."

7

After the brief scrimmage with the Arabs, Troy was hungry and he suddenly realized that none of them had eaten since morning. When the convoy was rolling again, Tully found some roast beef in gravy and heated it. The aroma was inviting but it had the same flat, tinny taste that seemed to be canned with all potted meats. Troy ate several biscuits to get the flavor of it out of his mouth and washed them down with two cups of coffee. After they'd smoked their cigarettes, he turned out the acetylene lantern, lifted the blackout curtain and opened the flap. Troy and Moffitt piled their rubber mattresses on top of each other and the four of them sat with their feet on the tailgate. Moonlight washed the desert with silver and the air was invigoratingly crisp. By day the desert was a feverish sea, but by night, a placid lake. The throbbing of the motors and the frequent whining mesh of gears seemed oddly out of place.

"Jerry'd not have much difficulty finding us," Moffitt reflected, scanning the moonlighted blue of the sky.

"Maybe we don't have an escort tonight but we've got fighters up there," Troy said. "They'd be on his tail in a minute. He won't risk anything on a night like this. Not with the importance he seems to be giving air cover at Agarawa."

"You may be right," Moffitt said, eyes turning quickly to Troy. "But he's giving too much attention to this sector to suit me. Something's in the wind."

"Sure," Troy said and laughed shortly. "That's why we're going there. To find out."

"How we going to find out what he has in mind, Sarge?" Tully drawled, shifting on the mattress.

"Why, we'll just go in and have a look," Troy said easily, but he glanced sharply at Tully. This mission seemed to be bothering all of them. "Once we're there, we'll play it by ear."

"Same as always," Hitch said, confidently enough.

"Same as always," Troy agreed.

Same as always with one big difference, Troy thought This time G2 wanted to know not only what Jerry would strike with, but when and where. D-day, the campaign plan, that was the phase of this mission that bothered him, and the others. It was one thing to lie on a dune and count pieces of equipment through field glasses, and even to race in behind his lines and destroy ammunition dumps and armor. But it was quite another to determine Jerry's objective and the date he'd launch his attack. And take the battle plan safely back to Bir-el-Alam without one of them being detected or captured.

"Blakely didn't mention the equipment G2 had provided in this snug hideaway they've constructed especially for us near Agarawa?" Moffitt asked.

"Not specifically," Troy said, glancing over his shoulder into the van. "He did say everything we'd need was there. G2 has anticipated more than we'd have requested, like the playing cards and Very pistols. We're getting VIP treatment. There's probably bubble gum for Hitch and a bottle of Scotch for you. Why?"

"Just a thought," Moffitt said and Troy turned his head to him. It had sounded as if Moffitt was smiling. He was. "There are times when a miniature camera with an extremely fast lens would be convenient."

"Such as?" Troy demanded a little testily. He thought he knew what Moffitt had in mind.

"It's not unlikely Jerry has a plan and map for his Spring campaign," Moffitt suggested.

"If a plan has been drawn up on paper, it's either on the commanding officer's person or at his HQ and all security precautions have been taken," Troy said brusquely. "You're thinking we might lift the plan, photograph it and return it with him none the wiser. Knock it off, Jack. Can't take the chance this trip. Can't risk it even if there is a camera. We've got to get in and out without Jerry knowing we've been there. If one of us is caught, if even a jeep is seen, the secret is out and we've lost our value."

"I suppose so," Moffitt said and fell silent.

Troy looked sharply at him. Moffitt had not sounded particularly convinced.

It was after twenty-two-hundred hours when the convoy crept out of the desert sand and onto the graded road from the north that linked Bir-el-Alam with the port of Tobruk on the Mediterranean. Troy looked from the van in astonishment at the transformation that had taken place during the past ten days. On this stretch of desert that had been barren less than two weeks before, rows of Sherman tanks, armored cars and personnel carriers stood under camouflage nets and hastily improvised sheds. Some equipment hulked huge under tarps out in the open. Open ended shelters and tents were piled high with crated stores. Acres of weapons and munitions watched over by roving patrols in jeeps. There were rows of big pyramid-topped canvas quarters for the troops. Men were everywhere, unloading trucks, working on motors, moving toward a new mess hall. Searchlights were probing the darkness. There was an underlying hum of generators and an overriding drone of aircraft.

This was it, Troy thought, the build-up for the Big Push. Here the Army was going all out in preparation for the spring campaign. The personnel and equipment were assembled. Whether they moved on to victory or were expended in defeat might depend on the success of the Rat Patrol's mission. Troy closed the flap and lowered his head. For a moment he could feel the weight of all the men and machines resting on his shoulders.

"I'm glad I never learned how to type," Hitch said, voice hushed with awe. "There are guys who have to keep track of all that stuff. In quintuplicate."

Troy laughed and put his eye to the slit in the canvas. Responsibility depended on your point of view.

They had entered the town and the convoy rumbled down the straight avenues the military had built. The plastered walls of the Arabian oasis town gleamed purplish-white in the moonlight and there was illumination behind many of the fretted windows. On the other side of the Arab community, the convoy stopped beyond a group of Quonset huts. Lights were on in all of them and Troy could see enlisted men and officers as they hurried by the windows. A figure, Major Grogan, Troy thought, walked past the end of the van, paced back and forth a moment and then came up to the flap. The motor of the van still was running.

"Troy?" Major Grogan said guardedly.

"Here," Troy whispered.

"We're scheduled to move right on out," Major Grogan said. "That should put us on the perimeter within two hours."

"Good," Troy said. As long as they reached the defense line by midnight, they'd be moved on to their final position near Agarawa before morning. He was heartily sick of the van.

A jeep drove up and its lights shone briefly on Major Grogan before they went out. Major Grogan started to walk away.

"Oh, Major Grogan?" a voice called from the jeep.

"Right," the major said and Troy saw him turn around and walk to the jeep.

"Captain Kennicutt," the officer in the jeep identified himself. "You're with the part of the convoy that's going on?"

"Yes," Troy heard the major say.

"There will be a delay," Captain Kennicutt said. "Some trouble on ahead. We're sending two armored cars with you."

Troy saw Major Grogan glance briefly at the van. "Trouble?" he said, turning back to the jeep.

"Nothing serious, so far as we know," Captain Kennicutt said so softly Troy could scarcely hear him. "Patrol activity apparently. We'll have you out as soon as possible." 

Troy swore softly and settled back on the mattress. 

"They're taking no chances with this cargo," Moffitt whispered. "I begin to feel as pampered as a warhead." 

"It's a lot of damn foolishness," Troy muttered. "We'd get through if they'd turn us loose on our own. All this special treatment just calls Jerry's attention to this van. He's got informers here."

"That's the nice thing about the Arab," Moffitt said cheerfully. "He'll cooperate with anyone."

"You mean he'll sell out to the highest bidder," Troy growled.

"Well, we may be glad of that when we get to Agarawa," Moffitt said.

"It's like they always say, Sarge," Tully said softly. "Hurry up and wait. I'm glad I'm in the Rat Patrol and not the Army."

"Better not let Wilson hear you say that or you'll find out how much of you the Army owns," Troy said, smiling.

"You wouldn't let Wilson get away with nothing," Tully said. "I'm going to hit the sack."

Hitch went up to the mattresses with Tully and Moffitt and Troy wrapped themselves in GI blankets and sat by the flap, listening to the scuffing of wooden boxes as other trucks were unloaded, watching jeeps and cars drive up, men jump out and come hurrying back after a few minutes. The van motor had been turned off and Troy watched the minutes creep around his watch as they sat outside headquarters waiting for the forward motion of the war to catch up with them.

Troy wondered whether it was the same at the enemy staging area beyond Agarawa. Did the methodical German mind produce a more orderly flow of commands and actions as Jerry made his preparations for renewal of the desert warfare? He wondered how many orders had to be issued before the armored cars could be assigned. He knew it wasn't a question of whether the vehicles were available. He'd just seen dozens, maybe fifty or more of them, parked on the other side of town. The question was, who was willing to authorize their use?

It was almost twenty-four-hundred hours and Day Two of the Rat Patrol's mission was approaching when the three-truck convoy, escorted front and rear by armored cars equipped with heavy machine guns and each carrying two-man crews in addition to the driver, started south from Bir-el-Alam across some fifty miles of desert to the southernmost position on the defensive perimeter. The Allied Forces had moved in heavy British Matilda II and medium United States M4 Sherman tanks before the rainy season as stationary artillery pieces. They made a sweeping semicircle around Bir-el-Alam, dug in to hold against any aggression while matériel was mounted for a massive drive in the spring.

The sixth day of dry weather after more than a month of drenching rains found the desert sands well-packed and suitable for maneuvering. Mid-January could not be regarded as the end of the rainy season, Troy knew, and the desert might be deluged in another day or week. Would either side be willing to gamble? He who first launched an offensive would gain a decided advantage but it could be quickly washed away. If Dietrich were still in command at Sidi Abd, Troy thought the daring German commander would watch the weather for a propitious day, strike swiftly and savagely, prepared either to dig in or withdraw at the first cloud in the desert sky. He wondered whether the commander of the armored unit being assembled near Agarawa possessed Dietrich's cunning courage.

The moon was waning but there still was sufficient light for the convoy to travel rapidly in the flat desert beyond Bir-el-Alam. With an armored car following the van, Troy could not open the flap. From time to time he glanced through the slit but the narrow opening restricted his view and he could not see much more than the car twenty-five or thirty feet behind and the blue-sheened desert.

At oh-one-thirty hours, Day Two, the three trucks and two armored cars stopped at a small oasis where three camouflaged tents were pitched under the palm trees. The van with the Rat Patrol pulled out of the convoy and backed toward an armored car parked near the trees. Troy saw the second armored car that had escorted them from Benghazi close the gap they'd left and the two remaining trucks and two cars sped away to the west. The van gently bumped the high steel side of the armored car and halted. A moment later, Major Grogan was at the back of the truck.

"Troy," he said in a low, tight whisper, "quickly now, the four of you. Into the car and on the floor. Take only your helmets and tommy-guns. You will leave immediately."

As Troy ripped open the flap and scrambled into the car, he had a glimpse of a Sherman tank hulking atop a dune south of the oasis. He did not see any personnel. He noticed that the armored car was camouflaged, splashed with yellow and gray paint. A heavy machine gun was mounted at the rear. Tully crawled over the tailgate and sat on the floor beside Troy.

"I'm glad we ain't going to spend the day here," he said, yawning.

"We're cutting it fine," Troy said. "A couple hours, we'll make it down there in the dark of the moon but these boys are going to have to fly to be out of Jerry land by daybreak."

Hitch, then Moffitt jumped into the track and sat against the steel side wall facing Troy and Tully. Major Grogan climbed into the car and buttoned the canvas flap on the van.

"Just a minute," Troy said abruptly, crawling across the car, raising and pulling the flap apart. He dived into the van and shoved the two rubber mattresses from the rear into the car. "Might as well be comfortable," he said, rolling back.

"That's what I thought," Tully said, pulling a box of biscuits and a tin of jam from his jacket. "I filled the canteens with hot coffee in case you didn't notice."

"I brought all the cigarettes I could dig out of the U-rations," Hitch said, emptying his jacket.

"I hope you left the Very pistols," Major Grogan said quietly, rebuttoning the flap. "I didn't realize how invaluable they could be until tonight. Good luck, men."

He hopped from the car without turning his head and walked toward the front of the van. A moment later the huge truck pulled slowly away from the oasis, turning in a great half circle back toward Bir-el-Alam.

"He knew it was us that took them Arabs," Tully said in a disbelieving tone.

"I'd of never believed it, the way he talked," Hitch said, awed. "Whadaya know, G2 has a sense of humor."

"Not officially," a new voice said with a chuckle.

They all looked toward the front of the car and Troy saw that a driver and another man had quietly climbed into the front seat. Both were wearing helmets and neither displayed any insignia of rank. The starter whirred and the motor sprang to smoothly purring life. The driver engaged the gears and the car pulled quickly away from the oasis. In seconds the car was in high gear and accelerating rapidly.