The Rat Patrol 3 - The Trojan Tank Affair (19 page)

"I knew you'd see things my way, Sam," Moffitt said and his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

"You won't be alone," Troy said. "The rest of us will go in with you and we'll be there to give you cover. All you have to do is plant the mike in the meeting room." 

"Once we get there," Tully mumbled from the kitchen. 

"That's right," Troy said briskly, consulting his watch. It was, oh-six-thirty. "We'll need to schedule ourselves. We'll eat a good meal now, if Tully can provide it, and sleep until noon. Moffitt and I will tune in for any message and Hitch and Tully will shinny up the rock with field glasses and find an isolated patrol car. We'll take it, bring it back here, stock it and drive to the staging area, arriving about dusk. Any suggestions?"

"We'll leave the jeeps here?" Tully asked and Troy looked over his shoulder, sniffing. Something was beginning to smell good, "We'll have to come back here tonight to pick up the jeeps?"

"Yes," Troy said. "Any objections?"

"No, none at all," Tully said with a slow smile. "It means we get a chance at another good meal. I'd hate to see all this coffee and food go to waste."

"Don't count on it," Troy said. "We'll grab a handful of biscuits and eat on the run. If things break right, we'll be in Bir-el-Alam by morning."

"And be eating mess hall chow again," Tully moaned. 

Troy looked across at Moffitt and smiled. "For the first time since we started this caper, I have the feeling that things are going our way. I think we can afford to indulge in a small way."

"I'm with you, Sam," Moffitt said with cheerful promptness. He went over to the crate beside the stove and brought back a bottle of bourbon and the Scotch. "How many ditches? I believe that's what you call bourbon and water. Will anyone join me in Scotch?"

"I'll try," Tully said. "I never tasted it."

"I'd rather have a beer," Hitch called. "There's a private, a corporal, a lieutenant and a captain in the box and all the trimmings. The captain's even got an Iron Cross." 

"Good," Troy answered. "Pick up your beer on your way. It shouldn't be too warm. It's like an icebox in here." 

"My beer won't be too warm," Hitch said, going back to the passage. "I put the whole crate in the bathtub yesterday afternoon."

Moffitt dumped water in three cups and poured Scotch in two of them. Hitch sat at the table with two cans of beer. Troy absently poured bourbon. Now that they were ready to go into action, he felt relaxed and confident. Moffitt and Hitch had come through, as they always did, with exactly the information that was needed. The caper wouldn't be a pushover but they'd pull it off, he thought and smiled.

"Can't do nothing now, just let it cook," Tully said, sitting at the table and sipping his Scotch. He made a face. "It tastes like medicine."

"You'll acquire a taste for it," Moffitt assured him, "by the time you've emptied that cup."

"What are you fixing?" Hitch asked. "I smell hungry." 

"Chicken stew," Tully said, trying the Scotch again and shaking his head. "We'll have some biscuits with it. At home on Sundays, we always had chicken stew and biscuits."

"Here's how," Troy said contentedly, lifting his cup.

"Cheers," Moffitt responded genially.

"Say, Hitch," Tully said, "what was that lover-boy routine you gave us about Moffitt?"

"Nothing much," Hitch said, grinning, "We ran into an old girlfriend of the Doc's. We hid in her basement and she smuggled us out of town in some bags of cotton. That's how we got the white stuff all over our robes. Hey, we forgot to tell you. Cobble and Damon were there. Some Frenchmen rescued them from the Jerries and are taking them back to Bir-el-Alam."

"Well, that's good news about Cobble and Damon," Troy remarked absently from the top of his mind. He was considering the implications of a woman in Jerry territory who knew Moffitt. "What about this woman, Jack? Who or what is she?"

"As Hitch said, an old friend," Moffitt said, a little stiffly, Troy thought. "A French girl. Her father knew my father."

"What is she doing at Agarawa?" Troy asked, growing uneasy.

"Her father was an archaeologist," Moffitt said, beginning to withdraw. "They lived here for many years before the war. He had made some important discoveries."

"Her father is dead," Troy stated flatly.

"Yes, he is," Moffitt answered formally.

"And now she's living here alone," Troy said, beginning to burn. "This is German territory. There's a camp next door. And Jerry permits her, a French girl, not only the right to live here but the freedom to operate."

"She has remained to protect her father's discoveries," Moffitt said icily. "As a scholar, she poses no threat to the Germans."

"As a scholar, Jerry would watch her," Troy snapped. "Did you get your information from her?"

"Why are you grilling me?" Moffitt asked angrily, composure breaking. "Yes, I got my information from her." 

"And how did she get the information?" Troy demanded. "It was given her so she could use it. There is only one reason a French woman would live alone here. She's playing footsie with Jerry."

"She is not playing footsie with Jerry," Moffitt barked and his eyes blazed,

"Is that what she told you?" Troy shouted.

"That is what she told me," Moffitt said remotely, getting himself under control again.

"Hey, Sarge, lay off," Hitch protested. "This girl's okay. She had three French Legionnaires she was hiding out. They rescued Cobble and Damon from Jerry. They're the ones who brought us here with the caravan and when they get to Bir-el-Alam, they're going to join up with us. Both the Arabs and Jerry were looking for Moffitt and me and she sneaked us out."

"Dames! I just don't trust them," Troy muttered. He'd been foolish to blow up at Moffitt although he was convinced the girl was working with the enemy.

"Anyway," Hitch continued, "we got the location of the staging area from a Jerry who'd just come from there." 

They had to move, Troy knew, and they could not operate as a team if there were friction.

"You're satisfied the girl was friendly and telling you the truth?" he asked Moffitt abruptly.

"I am convinced of it," Moffitt said stiffly.

"All right, Jack, I trust your judgment," Troy said decisively and smiled. For the first time, he did not trust Moffitt's discernment. It would be up to Troy to watch for the trap. "Sorry I questioned you. There's so much hanging on this caper, I'm jumping at shadows. We'll proceed with the plan."

Hitch and Tully relaxed but Moffitt remained distant and reserved throughout the meal. His conversation was fragmentary. He answered or acknowledged direct questions, but there was no further discussion of how the Rat Patrol would operate when they got to Jerry's camp. Troy was worried and discouraged when he threw himself on his cot.

Moffitt was sitting by the receiver, dressed in the shirt and trousers of a German enlisted man when Troy awakened. A shapeless fatigue-type cap with a long bill was pushed back on his head and his pants were tucked into his heavy shoes. Hitch and Tully still were sleeping and Troy walked over to Moffitt.

"You'll do," Troy growled, "if you'll climb off the Rock of Gibraltar."

Moffitt looked up and his lips began to twist into a smile that reached his eyes. "As bad as all that, eh Sam?" he said and chuckled. "Now that I've slept on it, it seems that I was rather stuffy. You'd every right to question my source of information."

"You had every right to expect that I would accept your information without reservation." Troy grunted self-consciously. "Let's get on with it."

"By all means," Moffitt said heartily and turned to the receiver.

Its static was scratching in Troy's ears as he went back to awaken Hitch and Tully. The storm cloud that had hovered over Moffitt and him was gone. Moffitt wouldn't hold a grudge. Everything was dandy again, except Troy felt that somehow Moffitt had been had.

"How would you like to be a captain?" he asked Hitch when he'd shaken him and Tully awake.

"It's okay if it's temporary," Hitch said yawning. "What do I have to do?"

"Nothing, naturally," Tully said. "Can I be a lieutenant?" 

"Not today," Troy said. "You're going to be a corporal and work. You'll drive the patrol car." He glanced at his watch. "Fifteen minutes before we monitor for a message. Let me take the first bath. When you're dressed, get up on that rock and find a vehicle we can get at."

He turned toward the passage and Moffitt called to him. "There's hot water in the stew can if you're going to shave, Sam," he said.

Troy felt guilty as he used it, ashamed of his conviction that Moffitt had been gullible. But he couldn't shake it.

Moffitt had made fresh coffee, Troy discovered as he was belting himself into his tan officer's tunic with epaulets on the shoulders and a black band with the words AFRIKA KORPS in reverse on the right sleeve. Moffitt stepped to the cot, clicked his heels and presented a tin cup of hot coffee which he held with the fingertips of both hands.

"Kaffee fur mein Herr Leutnant,"
he said standing stiffly. "Take it quick, Sam, it's damned hot,"

Troy took the cup and looked at it critically.
"Und where is
der schnapps, dumkopf
Moffittberger?" he bellowed.

"I say," Moffitt shouted gleefully. "You pass inspection with colors flying. Do you want some whiskey in your coffee?"

"No," Troy said, chuckling, "but let's wash the label off the bottle and take with us. It might ease us through a spot." 

"We'd best take the Scotch," Moffitt said, nodding his head. "I don't believe Jerry enjoys your bourbon."

Tully goosestepped past the cot, feet slapping flat on the floor. He was wearing a sloppy shirt open at the collar with big inverted stripes on the sleeves and a fatigue-type cap like Moffitt's. Hitch strutted after him with captain's boards on the shoulders of his tunic and an Iron Cross dangling over his left breast pocket. He had his desert glasses pushed Rommel-fashion above the visor of his cap. His GI canvas belt was in his right hand and he was laying it across Tully's back in mock rage.

"You stole my bubble gum, you swine," he cried in falsetto. "Now I take you to Berchtesgaden where you will learn to chew rugs."

Moffitt shook his head and burst out in laughter. "We've an uncommonly rough go at hand, and still they can indulge in antics."

"Yes, Private Moffittberger," Troy said mildly. He was determined not to let any of them suspect his doubts. "But the captain has made the mistake of reminding me of something." He shouted: "Hitch, leave your gum on the crate. You can pick it up when we come back."

"Spoilsport," Hitch grumbled and emptied his pocket. Tully took field glasses and a tommy-gun and he and Hitch left the cavern. Moffitt had the set tuned and the fingers of one hand rested on the dial as he watched the second hand on his watch jerk toward twelve-hundred hours. On the dot, a voice blared and he quickly adjusted the volume, picking up paper and pencil.

"Library," the voice said without preliminaries. "Do you need anything, stop. We have data books, stop. Can ship immediately, stop. I will repeat the communication for Library."

Moffitt left the set on but turned the volume lower. "In case there's another message," he said absently, looking from the paper to Troy. He wrinkled his forehead and his eyes narrowed. "Need Data Immediately," he decoded the message Troy already had read. "Why send us that? They know we'll rush back the moment we have the plan."

The voice had repeated the message only once and now there was nothing but a hum coming through the receiver. Moffitt lifted his hand to switch off the set.

"Leave it on," Troy said sharply. "Wait until twelve-oh-five. There may be more."

They had been too punctual with the message, Troy thought. There had been too much urgency in the voice. The code was so simple a child could break it and after the activity on the desert and at Agarawa, a commander like Dietrich could guess who Library was. Dietrich did not know what their mission was; or did he now? Troy wondered, glancing quickly at Moffitt. How much had he told the girl? The message might well have come from Dietrich in the hope it would bring them out in the open at once. He waited tensely for his suspicions to be confirmed by another message of an entirely different nature. Nothing else did come through and that didn't mean a thing either. HQ would only make contact when they had something important to say.

"That was it," Moffitt said and turned off the receiver. "Did it strike you as odd?"

"Let's say unnecessary," Troy tried to say easily. A hand had grabbed his stomach and twisted it into knots. "Maybe the general didn't have anything to do and wanted to feel important. Maybe they think we're out here playing pinochle and wanted to give us a goose. Hell, Jack, I don't know. Let's get ready to move."

Moffitt shot a puzzled look at Troy but all he said was, "Shall we take both jeeps?"

"Why? We're not going into battle," Troy said brusquely. He slapped the black-holstered Walther nine millimeter P-38 automatic at his hip. "Hitch and I have side arms. We'll take four tommy-guns and four shovels."

Troy drank another cup of coffee while they sat at the crate waiting for Hitch and Tully. He avoided Moffitt's eyes, leaning against the wall with his lids closed, looking into the cup when he sipped. He knew if he looked at Moffitt, Jack would ask questions and Troy didn't want to talk. He couldn't justify his suspicions and he wasn't going to rupture any more relations by arguing. Whether it was Dietrich who was nudging them along a path he wanted them to take or not, they had to go to the staging area and try to get the plan. Right or wrong, he was warned and he'd take every precaution that he could.

Sunlight splashed across the floor, the sheet slapped the rock. Troy turned off the lamp. Tully ran into the cave, swung into the first jeep and started the motor. Moffitt ran out the mouth of the cave and Troy hopped into the seat next to Tully.

"We've got one," Tully said, pushing the gears into four-wheel drive and low. The jeep angled steeply and climbed up the ramp. "West about two miles and north about five and traveling alone. Hitch is watching they don't change course."