The Rat Patrol 4 - Two-Faced Enemy (24 page)

"Won't it require some type of yoke to hitch them to the jeep?" Moffitt inquired with a frown. "Even if we could fashion one, it seems a shame to make drafthorses of such fine specimens."

"We're not going to use them to drag out the jeep," Troy said with a laugh. "Let's get the robes off four of these Arabs."

"Just what do you have in mind now, Sam?" Moffitt asked with a gleam in his eyes.

"Dietrich sent those men," Troy stated flatly. "I'd lay my bottom dollar on it. I'd been wondering just how we were going to get next to the armor. When we get close, we'll hide the jeeps, wrap the robes around ourselves and ride up to our targets. Dietrich won't be suspicious until it's too late." Moffitt untied the horses and led them up the hill. Troy and Hitch grunted and shoved while Tully pulled, and they moved the jeep onto firm sand a yard at a time. Moffitt tied two horses behind each jeep. They each selected a robe and burnoose from an unprotesting dead Arab, spread them in the backs of the jeeps to air and dry and drove east along high ground away from the route.

Some of the valleys in the rolling desert still held water, but the high ground had drained quickly and the sand was only moist. Because they had to stay on top of the dunes, Troy kept their course from two to three miles away from the road. It was growing late in the day and darkening when Troy estimated they were within three or four miles of the pass. Tully and Hitch drove off the high ground but they did not attempt to run the jeeps into a wadi.

Troy decided grenades would be the most effective weapons to use in a lightning strike at the armor. Each slashed off a yard or two of material from the bottom of his robe and made a bundle of a dozen grenades which he draped on his saddle.

Tully inspected the four horses, stroking the neck of each and looking doubtfully into its eyes. The ran behind the jeeps had wearied the horses and all of them seemed gentle enough. Tully selected a mare he called Gertrude because he said she reminded him of a horsefaced girl of that name and Moffitt boosted him into the saddle. Gertrude immediately reared.

"Don't jerk back on the bit!" Moffitt shouted. "Ease up on the reins."

Gertrude pranced nervously about in a circle and Tully jounced up and down in the saddle. Moffitt mounted and rode by her side. The mare quieted. Troy and Hitch joined them and they set out for Dietrich's armored column at a trot. Troy, Tully and Hitch jogged clumsily.

"Hang on to that steed whatever," Moffitt said to Troy with an amused smile. "You'll be in no condition to walk back from this ride."

They viewed the armor from the top of a sand hill. It appeared to stretch for a good half mile along the side of the road. Troy studied it a moment.

"Jack," he said to Moffitt, "go in at the head of the column and take as many as you can. Pitch for the treads. I'll go in at the rear. Tully, Hitch, strike at the middle and ride away from each other. We ought to be able to hit them from fifty yards. If they start shooting at you, don't hang around to argue. We'll do considerable damage no matter what. If we're separated, keep going and don't worry. We'll rendezvous back at the jeeps."

After the loafing trot, the horses lengthened their gait with little urging and the Rat Patrol galloped, three of them slapping leather, down the long hill toward the armor. Troy had a glimpse of someone standing and watching in a car on the road through glasses. He wondered whether it was Dietrich as the car sped toward the column.

Moffitt had given his horse her head and reached the front of the column before the others were within reach of their targets. Troy heard one explosion and then a second as he hurled his first grenade. His horse reared at the blast and raced across thick, slithery mud toward the sand hill. There were three more banging detonations before he had his stallion under control. He brought the horse back within reach of a tank and threw another grenade as machine gun fire rattled close at hand. He heard the sound of light arms fire and another machine gun barked. His horse staggered as if struck a blow with an axe handle between the eyes. He jerked the horse's head toward the desert. The stallion stumbled once and then picked up its feet and trotted. Troy kicked his heels into its ribs. Behind he heard two more explosions and the continuing chatter of machine gun fire. He kicked the horse again and the stallion galloped for fifty yards, plunged forward on its knees and Troy went flying over the animal's head.

14

Dietrich watched in horror as the four men in white robes on Arabian horses drew apart as they neared and galloped toward the armored column. One of them might have been an Arab from the way he rode, but Dietrich, who was somewhat of a horseman himself, would have sworn the other three had never mounted anything more unmanageable than a bicycle. He shouted at Willi to speed and reached into the back of the car for a dual purpose MG-42 light machine gun which he threw to his shoulder. He heard clanging explosions from the head of the column, then center and rear.

The car was within range now and he fired at the horse that had reared and run into the desert. The man on the animal fought the horse back toward a tank and hurled another grenade. The blast shook Dietrich to his toes.

"Drive off the road, after him," Dietrich yelled in fury to Willi. "They're blowing the treads off our armor." 

"But the mud," Willi objected.

"Damn the mud," Dietrich roared. "We'll go after them on foot if we must."

Willi turned the car off the road, slewing through muck before it lurched ahead. Dietrich fired again and again as the dark day filled with the smoke and smell of the explosions. He lost the man he was pursuing, then found him again trotting away from the column. He fired another burst and told Willi to drive straight ahead at the three men who still were throwing grenades. There were several more explosions and then the only sound was light arms and machine gun fire. As the smoke slowly lifted in the heavy air, Dietrich saw two horses galloping away at some distance. He examined the field and discovered two horses that had fallen. A robed man was running from one. Dietrich thought a man was lying on the ground in front of the other.

"After him," Dietrich called, pointing to the figure on foot. "We'll take him and come back for the other."

The car skidded half around and the wheels spun like tops that were going nowhere.

"Ease up, Willi," Dietrich shouted in frustration. "Throw in the clutch. Let it out with only a gentle touch of the petrol."

Willi did as he was told. The wheels only spun in the sludge.

Dietrich jumped from the car, sliding and stumbling as he set out at a run for the man on foot. It was like running on a greased treadmill. He slipped and fell flat on his face. He pushed himself up, scraping the mud from his chin and cheeks. The man he was after had reached the sand and was racing off.

Dietrich spat muck from his mouth and walked toward the figure lying beyond the horse. Both appeared to be dead. At least, Dietrich thought with some satisfaction, he'd got one of them. He had no doubt who the four were who had attacked his column, but he wondered which of the Rat Patrol he had killed.

Where had everyone been? he wondered angrily. Why had he been the only one able to shoot down the enemy? What was the matter with Funke's men? Everything they did was wrong. Each in his way reflected Funke himself, who by now undoubtedly was sitting across the table from some interrogator and was talking his head off.

Dietrich was alone in the field, he noticed, glancing back. Not a one of the noodleheads had had the sense to give chase to the enemy. They probably were still sitting in their tanks wondering what had happened. Not even Willi the Wonder had come to his assistance. He'd replace Willi with Grosse, he decided; the moment the man reported back from his mission.

The horse was dead, he saw, noting the red holes in his sides and the blood by the mouth. He must have caught the horse in the lungs. It was a shame, he thought regretfully, such a beautiful animal it had been.

The man was sprawled on his face. Dietrich turned him over with his boot, holding his gun on him. He saw the face and gasped at his unbelievable luck. It was Sergeant Sam Troy. At first he thought the sergeant was dead, but then he noted movement and saw Troy was breathing. There had been no bullet holes in the back of the robe and there was no blood on the front. Sergeant Troy had been stunned when the horse went down and threw him. He had captured the sergeant alive.

Troy stirred, groaned, sat up slowly, breathing heavily as he looked dully at Dietrich with glazed eyes. Dietrich backed off, squatting on his haunches five yards away with his gun trained on Troy's stomach.

"Take your time, Sergeant Troy," he gloated. "I have no intention of carrying you in, so recover your breath and your senses. Do not try any of your monkey business because you know I will not hesitate to shoot."

Troy looked around, shaking his head. His eyes seemed to clear but he did not say a word.

"Perhaps it would be as well if I did just shoot you," Dietrich said speculatively. "I would be certain then, at least, that you did not get away."

"You'd miss me," Troy said, suddenly talkative and grinning. "Who would there be to make your life interesting?"

"Interesting!" Dietrich exclaimed furiously. "Do not push me, I warn you. I do not find devastation of my men and machines interesting. Now get up and walk to my car." 

"A moment more, Herr Hauptmann," Troy said, letting his head hang between his knees and gulping for air. "I feel weak. I don't think I could stand just now. Have you ever been thrown from a horse?"

"From the time I was a child, I never from a horse have been thrown," Dietrich said disdainfully. He softened a little as Troy continued to gasp for air. "It was not entirely that you were inexperienced, however. That brave animal died at a gallop."

"Yes," Troy said throatily. "The Arabians are fine horses. It was you who set the Arabs after us, wasn't it?" 

"It may interest you to know that you have saved me a great deal of money, Sergeant Troy," Dietrich said drily. "I placed a value of a hundred thousand Swiss francs on your heads."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Troy asked, lifting his head and smiling. "I might have turned myself in for such a reward."

"If I had thought you could have been tempted to merely go away to some place in South America and simply retire, I would have offered you several times such an amount," Dietrich said. He was exasperated. "We will have no more of this foolish conversation. You will get now to your feet and walk to my car."

Sergeant Troy stood slowly and tottered. Something in his crooked half grin should have warned Dietrich, but he was completely without suspicions until he heard a noise like a swish in the air and then it was too late. A blow crashed the back of his neck and a great light seemed to flash in his brain before everything went black.

For a tense, silent moment the air in Wilson's office was as electric as a dark afternoon in Iowa just before the thunder crashes and lightning streaks the sky. He had confronted his prisoners with Nicodeme. Then the scream of the French girl pierced his ears.

"What lies has he told you?" she cried. "This man is evil. It is he who works with the Germans while we have helped whenever possible with the underground."

"Why should you so quickly fear what he has said?" Wilson asked tartly, but he felt the beginning of a pleasant glow of confidence. Nicodeme had shaken them.

"You must not take the word of this one," de la Croix pleaded. "He holds nothing but hatred for my niece and myself."

"Perhaps he has the distaste of a loyal Frenchman for a collaborator," Wilson observed.

"No," the girl said shrilly. "When the Germans were here, it was he who ran errands for them. Some pig of a colonel desired a woman and this man came to me. When I refused to listen to him, when I ordered him from the wine shop, he returned with German soldiers and they tried to force me to go with them."

"This is true," de la Croix declared firmly. "It was only when I struck this Nicodeme on the head with a bottle that Rhee broke away from his grip and ran into the hallway, barring the door."

"And the Germans were understanding and gentle and overlooked such an act on your part," Wilson said sarcastically.

"No, they were not," de la Croix retorted. "I was taken before this colonel, but there was a captain who inquired into the trouble. When he consulted with the colonel, I was released and there was no more trouble."

"Ask this man why he wears a bandage on his wist," the girl demanded.

Wilson looked inquiringly at Nicodeme.

"I strained it working on the docks," Nicodeme said sullenly.

"That is untrue," the girl shrilled. "Sergeant Troy broke his wrist when this man tried to place a knife into one of your men. Do you not see why he hates us and the sergeant as well?"

"Is what the girl says a fact?" Wilson asked Nicodeme doubtfully.

"Of course it is not so," the man asserted with a sneer. "What would you expect from such a trollop? You can easily see what she is. The truth of the matter is that she was frequently with the colonel. Since that time, she and the Fat Frenchman have steadily collaborated with the enemy."

"Ask the man he tried to knife," de la Croix said. "Surely you can find him among your men and he will come forward and speak the truth."

"I am unable at this time to assemble all of my men to either affirm or deny the story and I think you are aware of this fact," Wilson said sternly. He turned to Nicodeme. "What testimony can you give other than that the girl fraternized with the enemy?"

"Beth of them have reported to the enemy," Nicodeme said. "There is an Arab merchant named Ali Abu who also is an informer. I worked occasionally for him in his warehouse. It was filled with supplies, mostly gasoline, that he had stolen. He had a small transmitting set concealed in this warehouse, I discovered it and hid and watched. I saw and heard this Frenchman report to the Germans on the set. I stand ready to testify they worked with the Arab and collaborated with the Germans."