The Rat Patrol 3 - The Trojan Tank Affair (7 page)

He ripped open the flap and jumped from the slowly moving van with Moffitt at his side. The jeep braked so abruptly it seemed to start back. Troy threw his machine gun in the rear and slid the driver from behind the wheel by his neck and knee and pushed him into a sitting position at the side of the track. Moffitt already had his man on the ground. Tully's machine gun clattered to the floor as he hopped into the driver's seat. Moffitt swung over the side into the back. Hitch took the front seat next to Tully and Troy climbed in the rear with Moffitt. The jeep leapt forward after the van before the men they'd thrown out uttered their first yelp.

"Gun it," Troy shouted to Tully. "Take the side. Pass up the convoy."

The two men from the jeep were on their feet and running after the van as Tully pulled up beside it on the hard gray barren ground.

"There's probably another jeep in the lead," Troy yelled at Tully. "Get ahead of it and stop it." He leaned to Hitch. "You and Moffitt grab that jeep. Get off the track and make a sweep." He pulled back. "Jack, can you get that gun down to horizontal?"

The jeep plunged by the covered trucks of the convoy in a gritty cloud of dirt and a rattling shower of stones. Most of the trucks appeared to be the big ten-wheeled vans and there were about a dozen of them. As Troy had suspected, a jeep with a fifty-caliber machine gun on an antiaircraft mount was leading the convoy. Tully cut onto the trace ahead of it and slammed on his brakes. The lead jeep skidded to a stop and Moffitt and Hitch ran back. Troy waved his arms, crisscrossing them above his head and the driver of the first truck halted his vehicle. Someone, an officer, Troy thought, climbed down from the cab and walked toward the jeeps. Moffitt and Hitch had tossed their men aside and Hitch was at the wheel.

"Let's go!" Troy shouted to Hitch.

Without being told, Tully shot ahead, off the trace to the right. Hitch had started his run to the left.

"This is more like it, Sarge," Tully called, half turning and grinning.

The two jeeps raced over a ridge of gray hardpan toward a hump half a mile ahead. Troy swung the gun in its horizontal position, checking it, and examined the ammunition belt. The jeep was bucking and kicking like a bronco. Rocks banged against the frame. On the other side of the track, a featherlike tail of dust marked Hitch's path. Troy looked ahead to the trail where it ran over the back of the hill. If this was an ambush, there probably would be a machine gun positioned on either side of the rise, Troy thought.

Tully flanked the hill and came roaring in from behind. Troy swung his machine gun to the side and grasped the spade grips. He had a fleeting glimpse of a group of men in robes and opened fire. He raked them, holding the gun down at their waists and heard the rattle of Moffitt's gun from the other side. Tully swerved the jeep and came back for another pass. Troy saw four or five figures prone in the dirt. Others were working at their guns to bring them around.

On this run, Tully drove straight into the machine guns before they opened fire. Troy fired over his head as the robed figures scattered, running and diving to the ground. Troy worked them over with short bursts that sent the dust flying and the men pitching on their faces. An explosion rocked the jeep and a second sent stones and chunks of dirt crashing into it as two grenades blasted. Tully smashed into one of the machine guns, ran over it and raced on. Once more, Tully skidded the jeep around and this time he took it in for the mop up.

Two men still were on their feet. One was at some kind of weapon which Troy had thought was a machine gun but which now seemed to be a miniature artillery piece. It was pounding away. The other man was firing either a light machine gun or machine pistol. Troy heard the whining zing of slugs from the light piece as he stitched the gunner at the peculiar-looking heavy weapon. Another burst and he brought down the second man.

Tully banged on the brakes and he and Troy ran toward the figures scattered over the ground. Tully had his tommy-gun and Troy the German MG-42. They ran from one robed figure to the next, rolling them over with their boots and looking at their faces. The fifth or sixth body which Troy turned over seemed fairer of skin than the others and he pulled back the burnoose. The man's hair was blonde. Troy ripped off the robe and found the tan uniform of the Afrika Korps that he expected. He searched the pockets quickly but they were empty.

On the other side of the track, the Browning stuttered in a final burst and the silence of death descended abruptly over the rocky edge of the desert. A dust cloud settled marking the place where Hitch and Moffitt had stopped. Troy went over to examine the two machine guns. The one Tully had crashed was a tripod-mounted British Vickers three-oh-three caliber, but Troy could not make out the other. It was a machine gun all right, a heavy one, shielded and mounted on a small, wheeled carriage. He had never seen a weapon like it.

"Doctor," he called. "Come on over when you can."

He went back to the robed figures with Tully to make sure they all were dead. There were twelve Arabs and the Jerry made the thirteenth.

After a few minutes, Hitch drove over and Moffitt jumped down, smiling as he walked to Troy who was back at the machine gun on wheels.

"Tom Thumb artillery have you stumped?" he asked and laughed aloud. "That's a Russian twelve-point-seven millimeter D. Sh. K. M1938. It's the heavy machine gun our allies by chance and circumstance assign to their infantry. You know the other, the good old Vickers. It's the same set-up, complete with German officer on the other side. Jerry is arming the Arabs with captured weapons. Cheaper that way, although he would have done well to have kept the M1938. It's almost as good as the Browning. This little trap would have raised hob with the convoy. You notice they're about a hundred yards down here from the position on the other side. They'd have permitted the lead truck to get just beyond them here and then both sides would have opened fire. Well, shall we put these pieces out of order and be off?"

"There are some grenades someplace around," Troy said. "They threw a couple at us."

They found a dozen of the potato masher type stick grenades. Moffitt and Hitch took six of them and drove back to the position they'd attacked.

"Toss them, Sarge?" Tully asked doubtfully.

"Pile them under the weapon," Troy said. "We'll drive off a hundred yards and detonate them with the machine gun."

Troy waited until a blast from the other side of the trace indicated Hitch and Moffitt had destroyed the guns at that position and then he squeezed off a blast at the grenades under the M1938. Metal hurtled through the air and dirt and rocks pelted Tully and him.

Back down the track, the convoy still was halted. The men had left their trucks and were spread out on both sides behind the lead truck. They yelled and started forward as the jeeps neared the lead track. One of two majors standing in front of the first truck spun about and apparently ordered the men back. They halted but did not stop cheering. The second major, his face red and angry, strode up to Troy as Tully stopped.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Troy pushed back his bush hat and started to laugh.

The second major, a slender blade of a man with snapping dark eyes, moved up quickly.

"I'll handle this," he said crisply to the other major. "Get your men back in their vehicles." He jerked his head to Troy. "Bring your men back with me, Sergeant," he said and turned on his heel, taking long steps back toward the last van.

Troy winked at Hitch and Tully. "We'll drive the jeeps back to the rear," he said.

They pulled around the convoy and parked the jeeps side by side headed toward Benghazi. They were inside the van and Tully was boiling water for coffee when the major climbed over the tailgate. He stood tall and straight, every inch an executive or lawyer turned officer in his tailored gabardine fatigues with the gold leafs on the collar and a gilt leaf painted in the center of his helmet. In baleful silence, he glared at each of them in turn.

"You broke security," he said in a cold, thin voice but his eyes were hot. "You were under strict orders to remain concealed. Now every man in this convoy and every Arab in the area knows the Rat Patrol is with us."

Troy walked over to the table and sat on a stool. He pushed the bush hat to the back of his head and lighted a cigarette while he struggled to keep his simmering anger from boiling.

"When the coffee is ready, maybe the major would like a cup," he told Tully and looked at the officer with narrowed eyes. "You might as well sit down and make yourself comfortable. It looks like we have a lot to talk about. Just who are you?"

The officer's cheeks paled and the skin tightened on his jaw. He took a step toward the table and stood over Troy, drawing in his breath and holding it a moment as if fighting for control.

"Major Grogan, G2," he said tightly. "I'm riding in the cab of this truck and I'm in charge of your unit until you reach your next transfer point. I was the only man in the convoy who knew who you were or that you even were with us. I know nothing of your mission except that it is Top Secret and that an extraordinary amount of planning and preparation has gone into it. I know that Allied Headquarters regards it as vital to the spring campaign in this sector. And now you've blown it."

"Sit down, Major." Troy had calmed himself and he said it coolly. "Jerry knew we were in the convoy all along. Your outfit blew us before we started."

"What!" Major Grogan shouted and now his face flushed under its deep tan. "Your effrontery is unbearable, Sergeant. Your conduct is insufferable. Your display of bravado ahead on the trace was brash and foolhardy. You are nothing but a rodeo performer playing to an audience. Just what was up there, if anything? An Arab or two with a herd of goats that you drove off with your fireworks display?"

Troy no longer was angry. In fact, he was beginning to enjoy himself.

"Two dozen Arabs commanded by two Jerry Panzer officers," he said quietly. "Two machine gun positions, each with a heavy and a light weapon. The Arabs were armed with machine pistols and grenades. They had set a trap and would have destroyed or captured the entire convoy."

Major Grogan had been staring hotly at Troy, but now the fire in his eyes went out and his face turned the color of ashes. He dropped to the stool across the table. Moffitt took the stool next to Troy and lighted a cigarette.

"How did you know?" Major Grogan asked hoarsely.

"There was an Arab with a walkie-talkie in the last village," Troy said. "We didn't like the looks of it. We've been sensitive to the lack of security on this assignment. You'd blown us anyway, so we decided to show ourselves and save the convoy if there was an ambush. There wasn't time for a conference. We had to act."

"Well, we should be grateful for what you did," Major Grogan said, eyes concerned and squinting. "But how can you talk about lack of security? Only two or three men know the nature of your mission. The rest of us know only our particular phases of it. Everything has been done to ensure secrecy. I do not know where you came from nor what your final destination is. My orders were to pick you up where I did and to deliver you without detection to the next point. How can you say G2 broke security before you started."

"A blunder, an oversight, a stupid mistake," Troy snapped, irritated again. "G2 must be familiar with us and our operation since we were picked for this assignment. You must know our SOP is with two jeeps mounted with heavy machine guns. They're practically our trademark. So along with this convoy you permit two jeeps with heavy machine guns on antiaircraft mounts. They're dead ringers for the ones we always use. We've been in Algiers and Jerry knows it. Some informer spotted your two jeeps at Benghazi, reported them to the enemy and all your planning went up in smoke. Jerry naturally assumed those jeeps were ours and was waiting for us. Six trucks were blown at the munitions dump there, trying to get at us. We were ambushed on the road to Soluch. This trap was set because Jerry was sure we were with the convoy. You've got us under cover but those damned jeeps are out in the open for everyone to see."

Major Grogan's face had gone rigid as Troy spoke and his eyes had become hard black marbles. He sat silent with teeth clenched for several moments.

"You're right," he finally said in a toneless voice. He looked at Troy but his eyes seemed lifeless. "The consequence may be tragic. Can we do anything to save your mission?"

"Yes," Troy said promptly, smiling quickly at Moffitt. "You must send us back to Benghazi at once."

"I could not do that without authorization," Major Grogan said. "I am under orders to deliver you to the next point by a certain time. There is a schedule for your operation."

Tully brought three cups of coffee and stepped back, grinning. Troy frowned at him but he knew Tully was going to get his word in.

"You don't have to beat around the bush, Major," Tully said. "We all know where we're going. You're taking us as far as the south end of the defense perimeter."

"Tully!" Troy said sharply.

"It's all right. Sergeant," Major Grogan said. "I wasn't aware all of you had been briefed."

"Of course," Troy said. "And if we'd been brought in at the start, there never would have been this foul-up. But that's neither here nor there. Now you send us back to Benghazi."

"But I told you I cannot do that," Major Grogan said wearily.

"Of course you can't, actually," Troy said, smiling. "And knowing what our objective is, I doubt that we'd go back if you ordered it. But what you can do is this and I think it will save the mission. You send those two jeeps back to Benghazi with the men in them wearing our headgear. Jerry will damn soon hear about it. He'll conclude our assignment was to escort the convoy to this point where we engaged his patrols. We'll just stay with the convoy, put on helmets, ride out in the open and no one will be the wiser." 

Major Grogan nodded his head quickly.

"Good, good," he said briskly. "Good thinking, Troy. I hate to dispense with our aircraft protection, but then a Browning M2 is not a very effective weapon against planes. Yes, that's a solution, all right. I think the deception will work and I shall be able to deliver you to the perimeter in secrecy. All right, I'll go along with you. I'll have a talk with those men who are to substitute for you and silence them under the penalty of court-martial. From this moment on, they are the Rat Patrol. I'll write an order confining them once they reach Benghazi."