Breaking From the Enemy

by J. R. Sharp

  At the bakery entrance, the sergeant noticed a woman sitting with a cup of coffee.

  “Sergeant, is that you?” asked the major’s companion, Hilda. She was dressed in traveling clothes with a suitcase beside her, and she looked like she had already finished her meal.

  “Fraulein Straus, it’s good to see you again. Are you waiting for Herr Major?” asked the sergeant.

  “Yes, I am. I was told that the major is out doing business, so Lieutenant Muller asked me to wait for him while they locate him. Will you please join me for something to eat?”

  “Fraulein, it would be my pleasure to join you. I will be right back.”

  After a five-minute wait, Lucciano emerged from the bakery, hands full of his usual snacks.

  “How long have you been waiting for the major?”

  “It’s been a while, but I understand he is an important man doing great things for our country.”

  After listening to the extremely beautiful German nurse, Sergeant Lucciano decided to take matters into his own hands. He would deal with the lieutenant’s rudeness later.

  “How about I grab your bag and let you wait for the major at his office?”

  Before he could finish his sentence, Hilda was already standing.

  “That would be nice, thank you.”

  The sergeant grabbed her bag with his free hand and led her toward the compound and a better waiting area.

  ***

  Colonel Specca sat in the chair of the man who’d made his life a miserable nightmare. It was only a matter of time before the pesky German lieutenant waiting in his office showed up asking questions. Specca rose from the comfortable chair and headed for his office but noticed two German soldiers smoking cigarettes at the steps. The nicotine urge took hold of him, and he headed their direction for some relief.

  The junior enlisted soldiers instantly came to attention as the senior Italian officer approached them.

  “Where is the lieutenant?” asked the colonel, getting a cigarette out of his pocket.

  “He’s still in your office,” answered one of the enlisted.

  “Good,” responded Colonel Specca as he stepped away from the soldiers so as not to be accused of befriending junior enlisted.

  He took the first draw of his cigarette and noticed his sergeant heading toward the major’s office with Fraulein Straus. Having only met her briefly during her last visit, he decided not to interfere.

  Before the colonel got through the full cigarette, Sergeant Lucciano emerged from the major’s office with a rush in his step.

  “Taking a food break?” asked the colonel.

  The sergeant stopped and saluted his immediate supervisor. “Yes sir; the lieutenant was making a personal call and asked that we leave so he could have some privacy.”

  “Who did he call?” asked Specca.

  “You know, the same people that Major Schmidt is always calling—German headquarters. It seems they call just about every day.”

  When the sergeant entered the office, the phone was in its resting place and the lieutenant was in the colonel’s office. Gilda was already back to her normal, mundane administrative life of filing endless paperwork.

  After sitting in the same chair for well over an hour, the German lieutenant had enough. He got up to see what was going on in the outer office. The Gestapo had told him what to do in the event that the colonel had done something to the major.

  “Has the colonel come back?” asked Lieutenant Muller.

  “No, he has not returned.”

  “I’m going to look for the colonel,” replied the lieutenant as he headed out of the office.

  Lucciano looked at Gilda with his usual unconcerned look but curled his upper lip to stress his dislike of the current situation in their office.

  Muller saw his intended target ahead, talking to two German soldiers next to the corridor.

  “Herr Colonel, I’ve been waiting for you. When are we leaving?” asked the lieutenant as he approached.

  “As soon as I get my hat and make a phone call. I’ve been told Major Schmidt was last seen at the ghetto. We’ll be heading there first,” remarked the colonel, proceeding to his office.

  “Get your rifles and head to the car,” Lieutenant Muller ordered the two soldiers. “I’m going to make sure that lazy Italian officer gets going before the day is done, or I’ll have to entertain the major’s guest.”

  The soldiers looked down at their boots with smiles. They grabbed their rifles and headed for the car.

  The lieutenant headed for the colonel’s office, furious for the delay. He would either be leaving with the colonel or without him, but make no mistake—he was leaving.

  Colonel Specca had closed his office door and was about to make a phone call when Lieutenant Muller entered.

  “Get your hat; we are leaving now,” said the German.

  “Herr Lieutenant, have a seat. I need to make a quick phone call, and we’ll be leaving for the ghetto.”

  The German slammed his hand on the receiver and ordered again, “Grab your hat. We are leaving now, or the major will be informed of your actions.”

  The colonel slowly lowered the phone back down. “There’s no reason to get upset. We can leave now. I’ll make the call when I get back,” answered the colonel, observing the German’s right hand on his Luger. “And, Lieutenant, be careful with your belligerence. I’m still the senior officer here.”

  He rose with caution, never taking his eyes off the German as he gathered his hat and other items.

  As they made their way through the outer office, Sergeant Lucciano noticed the lieutenant had his hand on his Luger. He met the lieutenant’s eyes and couldn’t help but smile as they passed.

  Outside, the soldiers stood next to the car awaiting further instructions.

  “You two, get in the front; Corporal, you drive,” ordered Lieutenant Muller. Without asking where they were going, both soldiers did as they were ordered.

  As soon as the soldiers were in the car, the lieutenant ordered, “Head toward the ghetto. If the major is not there, then head straight for the old Italian barracks.”

  The corporal put the car in reverse and headed for their first destination.

  Colonel Specca looked at his watch, noting the time since his call with the Hotel Roma. Well over two hours had passed.

  Was that enough time for them to clean up the bodies? he wondered. He wouldn’t know for sure until they pulled into the barracks.

  Chapter 20

  AFTER LOADING THE FOUR bodies on the transport, Louie went back to the barracks and heard a loud splash as Enrico launched a bucket of water at the huge blood puddle.

  “We need to get rid of as much blood as possible. Start pushing the water down the trapdoor quickly so we can get out of here. Hopefully, the wooden boards won’t stain too much.”

  Louie grabbed one of the mops and pushed the red water down the trapdoor. He didn’t notice the black-and-silver ribbon attached to a metal cross. It floated toward the trapdoor, sliding between the boards.

  After countless buckets of water, the room looked like it had been given a bath. Louie set the last chair right next to the table on top of the trapdoor, and he heard the troop transport take off to an unknown destination. He backed out of the barracks, looking in all directions to make sure nothing was out of order. Even Cartelli’s blood was a stain no longer visible.

  ***

  As the corporal pulled up to the ghetto compound, Lieutenant Muller was practically in the front seat, peering out the front to see if the major’s sedan was in view.

  “I don’t see the sedan, sir,” remarked the corporal.

  “Neither do I. Go to the barracks,” ordered the Gestapo officer, looking at the Italian colonel.

  “Well, I guess he wasn’t here after all,” remarked Specca as he continued to look for the sedan he knew wouldn’t be there.

  “Who told you the major was here?”

  “My sources are not your concern. They were not wrong,
but their timing was off,” snapped the colonel.

  ***

  “We ready to get out of here?” asked Enrico.

  Louie nodded as he headed for their getaway car. The bartender followed as the fire gathered steam, sending smoke in the air. He looked around the barracks one more time to make sure they didn’t leave anything that could link back to the Hotel Roma. Only the work truck was in front of the barracks, which bothered Enrico.

  “You go ahead. I’m going to grab the work truck and follow you back to the hotel.”

  Louie started up the loaded car. With a slight jerk from the engaging clutch, the car headed down the barracks driveway. As Louie turned left toward the hotel, the bartender turned around toward the familiar work truck that had made such a difference to the resistance.

  ***

  The full Fiat headed toward their second stop of the day—one that could be disturbing if the cleanup wasn’t successful. The colonel kept watch for any signs of smoke, which would put him at ease. The good news was the Fiat was consistently stopping for pedestrians, livestock, and carts or just about anything the locals could put in the road. Living in this immense city had its drawbacks when it came to driving. The middle of the day wasn’t the best time for getting to the barracks outside the city.

  “What is taking so long,” yelled the lieutenant as he moved from the back seat toward the front to see what the corporal was doing.

  “Lieutenant, unless you want me to run over just about anything in our way, we need to stop every so often.”

  Lieutenant Muller looked out the front window with disgust.

  With a hint of a smile, Colonel Specca continued to look for the smoke signal. Gazing at the ancient buildings in this part of the city, he couldn’t help but wonder if his countrymen would survive this terrible war. There was no protection from what the Allies or Germans could do to these buildings with their modern bombs, tanks and artillery shells if war came to the city. Surprisingly, he felt tired enough for a quick nap when he heard a gunshot. Muller had taken his Luger out and was shooting in front of the sedan. He looked possessed, shooting with no regard for anyone’s safety.

  “Herr Lieutenant, put the pistol away before you hurt someone,” remarked the Italian colonel. Lieutenant Muller ignored the order and continued to shoot indiscriminately, even toward buildings to show his lack of concern.

  “Lieutenant, if you don’t put the pistol away, we’re going to have a problem in the back seat.”

  The lieutenant finally looked at the colonel, who was pointing his Berretta at the German’s stomach.

  “Now, slowly put your pistol away so we can continue our trip without any further hostilities toward my fellow citizens.”

  The Fiat was at a dead stop in the middle of the cobblestone road laid by the Romans centuries ago. The German soldiers looked in the back seat wondering what to do next.

  “But of course, Herr Colonel. How stupid of me to think I could get results through the use of this pistol,” responded the lieutenant as he slowly put the Luger back in its holster.

  “Why have we stopped? Get this car moving again,” ordered Colonel Specca, holstering his pistol as well.

  As the colonel was losing hope, he noticed smoke coming from the barracks. Hopefully it wasn’t a neighboring farmer cleaning his fields. He left the Berretta unstrapped in case there were any more problems. Even though he was against what the lieutenant did with his pistol, it wasn’t uncommon for the Germans to shoot for attention.

  ***

  The work truck roared with the turn of the key. Enrico backed it toward the fire, which was burning at an impressive rate, before heading to the exit and making the left toward Hotel Roma.

  “There’s something burning up ahead,” remarked the corporal.

  “There are always fires in this area, especially in the winter months,” responded Specca as he looked to see what the driver was talking about.

  As he looked toward the brick fence that surrounded the compound, he noticed the familiar work truck drive past them. He quickly looked to see who was driving but only got a glimpse. The colonel was sure that wasn’t the normal Italian electrician he had seen so many times getting their work orders. He quickly moved his attention dead ahead of the Fiat. Lieutenant Muller looked out the back window at the work truck.

  “Did you see who was driving the truck?” asked the lieutenant.

  Nobody responded. The corporal stopped the Fiat before they turned into the compound.

  “Do you want me to follow the truck?”

  “No, proceed into the compound. I have an idea where they’re going. We’ll pay them a visit after we find the major.”

  Both of the officers leaned toward the front seats as they made the right turn into the compound.

  “Why do they have a fire going?” asked Lieutenant Muller.

  “They’re getting rid of some trash, and tonight they may use the fire to heat water for their dinner,” answered Colonel Specca. “There are no vehicles here. We must have missed him. He’s probably back at the office or somewhere in this vast city. Let’s turn around and head back.”

  “Stop the car. We’re going to look around. Everyone get out of the car,” ordered the lieutenant.

  The two soldiers in front complied with the order, but Specca stayed in the car.

  “Let’s see what’s going on in the barracks,” ordered Lieutenant Muller.

  “What about the colonel?” asked one of the enlisted.

  “Don’t worry about him. Go into the barracks and see what’s going on. I’ll stay here.”

  The corporal was the first to enter. He looked right and left before heading left to the outer section. The other soldier entered the barracks for his inspection. After a quick look around, the corporal determined that, other than the wet wooden floors, some sleeping bunks, and a table with some chairs, it was pretty much a standard barracks.

  The soldiers reported their findings.

  “There’s nothing in the barracks, except it looks like someone cleaned it because the floor is wet. There are some empty chairs and bunks,” responded the corporal. The three men loaded back into the Fiat.

  “I suggest we check his residence at Via Tasso, or take me back so I can get some work done,” Colonel Specca said.

  “Head to the Via Tasso,” ordered Lieutenant Muller.

  The corporal put the sedan in gear and the lieutenant gave the barracks one last look before they departed. He saw something hanging under the crawl space at the end of the barracks.

  “Stop the car,” ordered Lieutenant Muller.

  He approached the entrance and knelt to get a better look at what was hanging from the barracks floor. It was too far back to see clearly, but whatever it was, he had seen it before. Someone next to him asked, “What is it now?”

  The boots next to him were the colonel’s.

  “There’s something hanging under the floor. I’m going to see what it is before we head out.”

  Before the frustrated Italian could make him change his mind, Muller went to the barracks entrance and looked in the back for the object. The floor was wet, which wasn’t unusual. What was odd was that no one seemed to occupy the building. It was empty. Why mop an empty barracks? thought the Gestapo lieutenant.

  “Where are the personal items of the junior enlisted workers?” he asked as he made his way to the table and chairs at the other end.

  “How should I know where their personal items are?” responded the Italian, following.

  Lieutenant Muller was looking at the floor when the colonel came up next to him.

  “What do you see?” Colonel Specca asked.

  “Look how this section of the wood is not wet.”

  Colonel Specca looked under the table and remarked, “Okay, so what does that mean?” Lieutenant Muller moved the table. Underneath was a perfect, reddish square that wasn’t as wet as the surrounding wood.

  “Stay here I will be back. Hopefully, I can get these officers to move quicker
, so we can get out of here,” ordered the corporal as he grabbed his rifle to head back into the barracks.

  “Let’s see what this door has to offer us.” Lieutenant Muller knelt to look for a latch or handle to pull up. There was none, but he managed to get his fingertips inside the outer ridge of the door to open it.

  The compartment was empty. He rested his hands on his knees and inspected the whole area before spotting the medal to his right. It was in between the last floorboards.

  Colonel Specca slowly grabbed his Berretta to avoid drawing the attention of the kneeling German. As Muller pulled the clasp out of its resting spot, the Italian knew exactly what it was. He’d seen it day after day. He prepared for what was about to happen.

  With the steady hand of a man on a mission, Lieutenant Muller guided the metal piece through the cracks of the wood. It was the Iron Cross Major Schmidt wore. Only the major had such an award in Rome. Now it wasn’t as bold-looking because of all the blood in the ribbon and metal cross. The German reached for his Luger and heard, “Keep your hands where I can see them and get up slowly.” The German did not move.

  “Drop you weapon, sir, or I will shoot you,” ordered the corporal, pointing his rifle at the colonel. Colonel Specca did as he was ordered. “Put your hands in the air and turn toward me.”

  Lieutenant Muller rose and grabbed his Luger. With expert speed, he aimed at the back of the Italian’s head and pulled the trigger.

  He put his Luger back in his holster and walked to the exit, holding the Iron Cross. It was the only evidence that something was corrupt in Rome.

  “Leave him here,” ordered the lieutenant. He went to the Fiat. “Get in the car. We’re leaving.”

  “Where do you want to go, sir?” asked the corporal.

  “Head to the Hotel Roma. I have a feeling all our questions will be answered there.”

  Chapter 21

  ENRICO PULLED INTO THE familiar parking spot Gino and Giacomo used during their time in Rome. As he exited the car, he looked for anything suspicious but noticed nothing. The other supporters were heading in different directions throughout the country. He would be alone in the bar.