Order of Battle (28 page)

“Guess it’s up to us,” he said matter-of-factly.

Erik nodded. Evans controlled himself with a visible effort. “Very well,” he said, his voice grating venomously. “But I warn you. I’ll see you busted for this! I’ve been in the MPs a long time. I haven’t been wrong yet!”

He turned on his heel and stiffly stalked back to his place of safety.

Don stood up.

“Okay,” he said. “We’d better get off our butts. Might just stumble on
something.
I never heard of anyone doing it sitting on his ass.”

He beckoned to the nearest MP, who came running up. He motioned toward the cowering Gruber.

“Keep an eye on buster, here,” he said. “We’ll be back—I hope!” He turned to Erik. “Well?”

“After you, Alphonse!”

Erik drew his gun from its holster. It suddenly felt ridiculously small. Ineffective. He had a quick impulse to trade it for a carbine, but he at once dismissed the idea. He knew this gun. He was used to it. He knew what he could do with it.

The two CIC agents were at the edge of the trees. They glanced at one another—and entered.

From his hiding place across the trail the German forester, Gruber, stared after them, as if expecting them to blow up any second. . . .

Half an hour, dammit! In two minutes it would be half an hour since he saw the two CIC agents go into the spruce area. Klein shifted his weight. Not because of discomfort; he was getting worried. There’d been no sound from in there, no sign of life. For a moment he took his eyes off the forest square in front of him. He glanced down the trail to his left. He could make out the man nearest to him, kneeling behind a bush. Waiting. In the pine trees to his right he could see the old Kraut, guarded by another of his men. And Major Evans.

The MP officer was standing up, close to a big pine tree. Klein saw him look at his watch. He seemed impatient.

Klein had a sudden chilling thought. The major was ranking officer now. In fact, the only officer, now the CIC agents had gone into the spruce area. What if he should decide to take command? Right now! There was obviously no love lost between him and the two CIC guys. Suppose he decided to do something
narish?
Like ordering him, Sam Klein, to round up his men and march them back to Corps. Write off the whole damned deal as a flop. Leave the two other guys on their own in there. What the hell would Sammy Klein do then? He couldn’t refuse a direct order, and he sure couldn’t take off just like that.
Oi schtarb!
Why couldn’t he be back at Corps making out duty rosters? Yeah, he should be so lucky. He saw the major turn toward him.

Suddenly he tensed. His head snapped back toward the spruce area, his eyes intent upon the trees. He’d seen it. Something. Movement.

His hands tightened on his carbine.

There! Again.

He brought his carbine up and sighted toward the surreptitious motion. Across the sight the figure of a man appeared, coming through the dense spruce.

It was Erik.

Klein relaxed perceptibly. He was suddenly aware of feeling clammy all over. He brought his carbine down and waited. Erik came up to him. He looked discouraged.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything in there,” he said, his voice flat.

“That’s good!” Klein grinned broadly. He looked up at Erik, and his face grew sober. “Bad?” he asked.

“We’ll have to make absolutely sure.” Erik didn’t seem to be aware of the byplay. “Have your men enter the area,” he said, “at your signal. I want them to go through it and assemble in the center. Tell them to use caution, but I want every tree, every clump of brush searched!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Move in"—Erik glanced at his watch—"in ten minutes.”

“Right.”

Klein took off at a dog trot down the path. Erik glanced at Major Evans. The MP officer came striding briskly toward him.

Without a second look Erik turned and reentered the spruce forest. . . .

Werewolf Headquarters

1023 hrs

Steiner was sweating. It annoyed him. He was aware of the sour-sharp odor rising from his armpits. The others must be, too. But nobody said anything. There was nothing he could do about it anyway, but it made him acutely uncomfortable. Besides, his damned leg hurt. The bullet had gone clean through the fleshy part of his thigh. He was lucky. It hadn’t even nicked the femur. But it throbbed like hell.

He hobbled toward the radio room. Hell of a time for him to be left ranking noncom. He put his weight a little too heavily on his wounded leg and a sharp pain knifed up his side to stab at his eyeball.
Verflucht!

Still, he was alive. . . .

When he felt the dull slam of the bullet in his leg and realized he’d been hit, his mind had flashed to the Werewolf credo. He knew in that instant he was a dead man. The others couldn’t burden themselves with a casualty, and they couldn’t leave him behind alive.

He’d been fully aware of it all, but it had been as if he’d been watching it happen to someone else. He’d been quite calm. The shock of the wound probably . . .

But then young Willi Richter had ordered Krauss and Leib to support him between them, and somehow they’d made it back. . . .

He thought of Willi. He owed him his life. He felt grateful to him and at the same time a little contemptuous. The young officer had taken a hell of a chance. Jeopardized the whole operation. It was only luck they hadn’t all been caught. He frowned. What would
he
have done, had the tables been turned?

He reached the doorway to the radio room. He leaned heavily against the frame. The operator looked up at him.

“Take a message,” Steiner ordered curtly. He wet his dry lips. “Caution all units and stations. Enemy search under way Schönsee following Plewig interrogation. No apparent danger of discovery. Maintain strict cover. Postpone all planned operations. . . .”

He stopped. He suddenly realized the enormity of the decision he had to make. Why the devil did it have to be him! He felt dizzy. He was strongly aware of the odor steaming from his armpits. Fear?

No, he couldn’t take the responsibility. It wasn’t his job. He just couldn’t. The operation to be mounted by Unit C, it
was
a last-minute chance. It
was
imperative. Richter was already on his way. He
couldn’t
stop it. Not now. Not on the off chance . . .

He looked straight at the waiting operator.

“Postpone all planned operations,” he said firmly—he drew a deep breath—"headquarters area only—repeat: headquarters area only—until further orders. Acknowledge.”

He waited for the operator to finish taking it down.

“Code it. Send it at once. Through the Munich relay.”

“
Sofort!

The man began readying his equipment.

“How many of them are there this time?”

Steiner shrugged.

“Thirty. Forty. It doesn’t matter.”

The operator looked up at him.

“But if that’s all, we could easily—”

Steiner broke in sharply.

“We are following orders. As long as they do not discover us, we leave them alone.”

“And if they do?”

Steiner’s eyes were cold.

“We wipe them out.”

He turned to leave. The pain in his leg was becoming intolerable. He stopped.

“The general must be warned,” he said heavily. “There may be plans to change.”

He put his hand on the wound. Even through the bandage his leg felt hot.

“
We
can’t get to him. Now.” He turned to the operator. “As soon as you have sent the message, contact Weiden.”

Sweat was dripping into his eyes. There was nothing more he could do. He had to lie down. . . .

Maybe—maybe it was all for nothing, all his worry. They’d never be discovered. Never.

Still,
Sicher ist die Mutter der Porzellankiste!
Mother is extra careful with her chest of china.

Schönsee Forest

1041 hrs

The thick moss on the large boulder felt soft and cool against Erik’s back. He forced himself to relax, leaning against it. No good getting too damned tense and freezing up when things began to pop. If. If they did pop. He glanced at Don crouched a couple of feet away, staring intently into the trees.

It had been nearly fifteen minutes since he’d rejoined Don in the center of the spruce area and they’d heard the three shrill blasts of Klein’s whistle signaling his men to start infiltrating the area.

He was acutely aware of the rock against his back. He wondered about the boulders. There were several of them, heaped together in the middle of the forest square. From the looks of them they’d been there a long time. Probably gathered there when the square was originally planted. The trees grew a little thinner here, forming a small clearing.

He searched the trees before him. He knew that Klein and his MPs were making their way through the area toward him, searching, probing, investigating. . . .

He strained to listen.

Nothing.

Where were they? How close? Would they flush anything?

He moved his back away from the boulder behind him. It was getting hard.

He glanced at his watch.

Sixteen minutes.

And then he saw the first man. Watchfully he came through the trees, moving from one clump of brush to another, his carbine held at port arms.

And another.

All around him now the MPs began to enter the little clearing, quietly, cautiously. They looked in silence at Erik and Don and stopped uncertainly.

Erik sighed.

Not a thing,
he thought, with the impotent anger born of disappointment.
Not a goddamnfucking thing!

The sudden sharp report that slammed against his ears with the force of a physical blow scattered every thought from his mind as it ricocheted from tree to tree.

A shot!

Instantly every man in the clearing hit the dirt, his weapon ready.

Klein came running through the trees into the little clearing.

Erik felt the flush of action course through him.
Here it is!

Klein came up to the two CIC agents.

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “It was Warnecke’s big feet again. Tripped over a root. Nearly drilled me a third eye!”

Erik stood up. He suddenly felt exhausted. He looked at the men around him, watching him curiously. He knew what they were thinking.

“Listen, everybody!” he called in a loud voice. “It doesn’t look as if there’s anybody here.”

He paused. The men were waiting.

“But I want to be absolutely sure. I want to know if anyone
has been
here! I want every clump of underbrush, every thicket searched and searched again. Work your way back out. If there’s
anything
here I want it found, even if it’s only a used condom! We’ll assemble at the big leaning pine tree in—thirty minutes. Let’s go!”

The men started to move out. Suddenly a rabbit leaped from concealment in front of one of them and bounced in a broken run across the clearing to disappear into the shrubs.

“There goes one of them now!” the man shouted.

But the laughter was strained.

Erik stood with Klein and Don watching the men make their way into the woods.

Don suddenly looked around. He turned to Klein.

“Hey, what happened to our swashbuckling MP hero?”

“Major Evans?” Klein grinned. “I guess he buckled when he should’ve swashed!”

It was a creditable attempt, but it fell flat.

Sudetenland, Czechoslovakia

On the Road to Unit C

1103 hrs

Willi Richter listened. He frowned. He didn’t like that grating noise coming from the engine in his Volkswagen. It would be charitable to call the car they’d given him merely battered. It was shrapnel scarred; one of the front fenders was smashed flat, the frog-eye headlight ripped off; the spare tire was gone from the front hood. The top was down. Willi doubted if it was in condition ever to be put up again. He was glad it wasn’t raining. He’d been on the road several hours already, and that damned noise had started twenty kilometers back. It sounded as if the whole damned motor would fall out any second.

Zum Teufel damit!
he thought. To the devil with it! He had to abandon the car pretty soon anyway.

He thought back. . . .

He’d left General Krueger’s headquarters at 0430 that morning, well before first light, to take advantage of the darkness to exfiltrate the area without placing the HQ in jeopardy. He’d had no trouble at all passing through the American outpost lines, crossing the border and entering Czechoslovakia.

He’d commandeered the Volkswagen from the first German unit he’d run across with the help of the general’s priority orders, and he’d made his way to the nearest major command post.

It had taken the devil of a time to raise the Munich relay station and through them get confirmation regarding the transportation arrangements for the task force from Unit C, but he’d finally accomplished it. The trucks would be on the Salzburg road south of Passau at the prescribed time. From there they’d be at their destination in a couple of hours.

He felt suddenly excited. He was going to be in on the big one!

Unconsciously he stepped on the accelerator.

The Volkswagen picked up speed; the motor grated hideously. There was a sharp metallic ping—and the gears locked, sending the car slewing, skidding sideways down the road to an ignominious halt.

Willi got out. He glared at the vehicle.

“
Scheissdreckl”
he cursed. “Shit!”

He kicked the rear tire in disgust and set out on foot toward the Czech border and the area of Werewolf Unit C just beyond. . . .

Schönsee Forest

1114 hrs

Erik and Don sat under the big leaning pine tree. The MPs were comfortably sprawled in the grass around them. Major Evans sat off a little by himself, still wearing his I-told-you-so expression and contentedly inhaling the smoke of a cigarette. The sun stood high in the beautiful blue spring sky. Birds twittered cheerfully in the trees. Dragonflies whirred impressively in pursuit of tiny insects and a gentle wind whispered softly in the pines. The whole scene was the exact opposite of the bleak mood with which Erik and Don regarded it.