“Relates to the boxcar,” said Croft.
“Speaking of which, sir, you feeling good enough to get moving?”
Croft nodded.
“Colonel’s walking slowly for our sake. Let’s not delay him any further, shall we, sir?”
“No,” said Croft.
The boxcar lay open, well outside the cut. An area of about three feet on either side of the tracks was smooth and flat. On Croft’s side, the ground beyond that fell away in a gentle, lightly-wooded slope.
On the slope, amidst thick green weeds, two secessionists lay messily dead amidst splintered bits of wood. Three crates with US military markings had been stacked nearby. Another secessionist, one who’d clearly been shot, lay by them.
Gonzalez inspected the three stacked crates, nodded. Using them as a step, he climbed up into the boxcar. He was followed by Rodriguez, the lieutenant-colonel, then Sergeant-Major Jackson and Croft.
The boxcar’s open doors gave plenty of light to see by. Crates with military markings were stacked everywhere, some almost to the ceiling.
Rodriguez tapped one of the crates.
“What’s in this one?” he asked Gonzalez. “Give me that crowbar.”
Gonzalez shook his head.
“Sir, you really don’t want to open that one.”
“What’s in it, Sergeant?”
“Grenade, sir. Same thing as killed those two out there. How about I open the next one for you?”
Rodriguez, the lieutenant-colonel, Sergeant-Major Jackson and Croft crowded around as Gonzalez, grinning, levered the stencilled top off the crate.
Inside was a cinder block.
Rodriguez looked at Croft, then at Gonzalez.
Gonzalez opened another crate. It contained half a dozen old bricks.
“I thought this car was full of midnight-requisitioned Army stuff,” said Rodriguez.
Gonzalez smiled.
“Sir,” he said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you really think Legion people would steal Army property – and then have colonial stevodores load it onto an unguarded train?”
“No,” said Colonel Rodriguez slowly. “I would not.”
* * *
Senior Sergeant Alonzo nodded his head in time to a jazzy Beat Brothers song as he drove his truck down the tarmac road to Roanoke. Behind, when he glanced at his rear-view mirror, he could see the other three trucks, tarpaulins over their loads. They were being driven by the corporal and the two lances who’d been called in to help look after F Company in his absence. Their seventy-two hour passes had been an easy trade for ten percent of the crates, chosen randomly.
And if we’re lucky, he thought, we even whacked some Buddies out of this whole deal.
* * *
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Eleven
The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4) Page 46
