Kat and Die Wolfsschanze

by Michael Beals

  She glanced across at Dore. “Do you think the General’s up to all this?” she asked as they pulled away again.

  Dore grimaced and cocked his head. “I Don’t know. I hope so.”

  “Tomorrow could be tricky. I don’t know how many soldiers are in that convoy, and they won’t be defenseless. Even if we manage to disable the tanks and two or three halftracks, there are only a handful of us.”

  “Having second thoughts?”

  “No, not at all. We’re here to do a job. I’m just saying. The last time we went on one of Gramigna’s missions, he didn’t want to come with us because he thought he’d slow us down. Now we’re attacking an entire convoy, he’ll be fighting it out in the trenches.”

  “Maybe you should mention it to him.”

  She snorted a cynical laugh. “I wouldn’t dare. Gramigna’s been planning this for weeks.”

  “Weeks?”

  “Ya, I know, Fleming had a hand in this. That’s why he dragged us back from Egypt. It wasn’t just the Vienna job. What’s the betting there’s someone important in this convoy?”

  “What, you mean like a high-ranking Officer?”

  “Ya, someone who Gramigna knows on a personal level.”

  “Ya, well, he was a General. Maybe he’s carrying a grudge.”

  The road now on a high ridge, the land falling away steeply on either side. Far below, a river wound its way through a picturesque valley beside the main road. At the far end, an old stone bridge transported the road to the other side of the river, where it continued to wind its way through the hills. The truck in front of them slowed, pulled onto a grassy bank, and backed around to face the way they came.

  “I guess we’re here,” Dore said, turning the truck around and pulling up behind Gramigna’s truck. Kat hesitated before opening the door.

  “Do you think we’ll have a problem with the Stokes Trench Mortars in all this rain?”

  “You mean the ones you’re going to bury?”

  “Ya. We have to run cables to a 10 Cap Blasting Detonator. What if it doesn’t work?”

  Dore shrugged. “Then they don’t work.”

  Opening the door, she climbed out into the pouring rain and made her way over to Gramigna’s truck. His men were already off-loading the landmines. They didn’t seem bothered by the storm.

  Gramigna sat in the cab, drinking coffee. “Beautiful evening,” he said, grinning at her. “Want coffee?”

  “No thanks. Do you want to show me where you intend positioning your men?”

  He grimaced. “What, now? In the rain?”

  “I don’t think it’s going to stop, General. It could be like this tomorrow morning.”

  Gulping back the rest of his coffee, he pulled on a canvas poncho and climbed out. “Just you and I.”

  “And Jock. I wouldn’t mind his opinion.”

  Signaling Dore to join them, they made their way down through the tangle of dripping acacia trees. It was a steep climb, the tree thrashing in the driving rain, and they were a hundred yards from the road when the bridge became visible again. It was wider than it appeared from a distance. Not wide enough for two-way traffic, it was designed for horses and carts, and a perfect trap for a tank. Kat wondered why the Germans would take such a risk.

  “Are you sure they’re going to come this way?” she asked Gramigna. “This is a perfect place for an ambush.”

  “They’ve got no choice. There’s a safer road to the south, but it’s more mountainous. It would also mean going all the way back to Prato, and the Germans like to keep on schedule.”

  “It’s just that it feels too good to be true. If we had more men and more bazookas, we could destroy the whole convoy here.”

  “Maybe that’s why they’re taking the risk. The Germans know we’re thin on the ground.”

  Continuing down the hillside, they came to a flat prominence. Surrounded by thick vegetation and still high above the road, it was wide enough for a small platoon. It was perfect.

  “You found it,” he said. “This is our position.”

  “Wow. Good find, General.” She grinned at him. “It’s not wide enough for all of us.”

  “I know, but it’s the best position.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, wiping the rain from her eyes, “we’ll find somewhere.”

  Gramigna looked back. The team scrambled down the hill behind them, the men cursing as they clambered over slippery rocks. Moments later, everyone was there, crowding in on the narrow prominence, soaking wet and panting after the steep climb.

  “Well, shall we bury these landmines?” Gramigna asked, directing his question at the team. “Then we can talk about positions.”

  Making their way down to the main road, Gramigna and his men examined the bridge. The road had drains sunk into its cobbled surface every few yards. They sunk the mines into the drain ducts, the lids used as pressure points. It was ideal.

  Pulling all the drain covers, Gramigna’s men set about installing the mines. It was a tense procedure, and Kat saw no point in watching, she had five Stokes Trench Mortars to bury, in the pouring rain. While the team stood around getting saturated, she and Dore went in search of a suitable grassy bank. The hill sloped down so close to the road that it didn’t take long to find. Marking each Stokes Trench Mortar position with branches, they calculated that a Stokes Trench Mortar every thirty feet would probably work. If they didn’t hit a tank, they’d be sure to find a halftrack or personnel truck.

  Water ran down the hill in dozens of rivulets. By the time they’d finished digging out the holes, they were covered in red, gooey mud. Connecting the rolls of electrical flex, they ran them up through the trees and after, went looking for the best place to fire the bazookas. The trees were the biggest problem. The Germans might not be able to see them, and the team would have their view restricted as well. They stumbled on the remains of an old mill house, its crumbling stone walls almost hidden by ground ivy and acacia saplings. It was perfect. A hundred feet above the road and a hundred and fifty yards in the distance, it also offered an ideal vantage point and a route of escape.

  Kat scanned the hillside. In the gathering darkness, she couldn’t see Gramigna’s attack position, but she knew where it was. She smiled. The mill house was a better position. She turned to Kelly, who cursed as he tried to clean the mud off his hands on the grass.

  “Is this good for you, Sam? I reckon it’s a hundred and fifty yards.”

  Shaking the water from his hands, he squinted through the driving rain. “Looks good to me. What do you think, Jock?”

  Dore nodded. “Ay, it’s good. I hope it stops raining tomorrow. Bazookas are a bit dodgy when they’re wet.”

  Jock, can I change the order of things,” Kat said. “I was going to load the bazooka for Sam, but I’d prefer to orchestrate what’s happening. If Harry and Sandro fire one bazooka and Atkins loads for Sam, you and I can fire Sten guns and throw grenades. At this height, they should just about reach.”

  He shook his head. “They won’t reach from here, Kat. We’re too far away. I need to get closer to throw them. Don’t worry. You stay with the team. I’ll find a place to throw the grenades. Just don’t leave until I get back.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” She watched him as he made his way through the trees. Minutes later, he returned.

  “That didn’t take long.”

  “There’s a boar trail. It was easy.”

  Rejoining Gramigna’s team, they made their way back to the trucks. The rain eased as they drove back to the villa, and by the time they arrived, it stopped altogether. Dark clouds were scudding overhead, and by the time they’d pu
t the trucks away, it began raining again.

  Entering the villa, Kat was surprised to learn, one of the showers in the house actually worked. She waited her turn in a line of men covered in mud waiting to use it. Making sure everyone had a chance for a warm shower, they were rationed to two minutes.

  After a quick clean, Kat went to Gramigna and asked if there were any more canvas ponchos.

  He laughed. “You’ve been in the desert too long. Fighting in the rain is always difficult. It doesn’t matter what you wear. The water always gets in. I can probably find you some ponchos, but you’re better off wearing a heavy sweater. It’ll insulate you from the cold. After a while, you don’t even notice you’re wet.”

  “We don’t have heavy sweaters.”

  “There are clothes in all the drawers. I’m sure you’ll find some.”

  Gramigna was right. When Kat searched the bedrooms, she found drawers-full of sweaters. The owners and their children left all their clothes behind, and she imagined them being dragged screaming from the house. She tried not to think about it. Simply the idea of wearing someone’s clothes who may have been murdered by the Gestapo was uncomfortable.

  CHAPTER 11

  The following morning dawned ominously sunny. Ominous because the sky was anything but blue. Dark, roiling clouds reached from horizon to horizon, the wind was blowing a gale, and the few shafts of sunlight managing to break through were like the fingers of God. They were driving on the high alpine trails that followed the crests of hills, and the panoramic views were even more dramatic. Apart from a thin band of brighter sky, thunderous clouds stretched for as far as the eye could see. Even the air felt charged as if preceding a terrible deluge.

  It certainly put the team on edge. Dore even went to the trouble of changing the batteries on the bazookas, and Capetti closed his eyes as if praying. Maybe he was. They were all sitting in the back of the truck, and one of Gramigna’s men was driving. The coming storm occupied everyone’s thoughts.

  “Guys, it’s only rain,” she said. “It’s not going to kill you.”

  “It’s an omen,” Atkins said, gazing up at the sky. “Knowing our luck, we’ll either drown or be hit by bolts of lightning.”

  “Stop yer whining ya big pussy! Yer more likely to be hit by German bullets than to be hit by lightning,” Dore remarked.

  “Thank you Sergeant… ya always know the right things to say to give me comfort. I feel strengthened by yer words knowing that I have a better chance of being machine gunned to death... than to die by lightning.”

  At that moment, a clap of thunder rumbled across the valleys, and moments later, another.

  Atkins shook his head, “I’m gonna die.”

  As yet, it wasn’t raining, and Kat could only hope they managed to reach their attack positions before the heavens opened. At least they’d be able to see where they were going. She checked her watch. It was shy of 0600. They had a little over an hour before the convoy came through.

  “Hey, are you all right?”

  “Ya, I’m fine,” he said, glancing at her.

  “You’re very quiet.”

  “Sorry, I’m miles away, thinking about Uncle Rudolph.”

  Getting up, she moved across the truck and sat next to him. She put a hand on his forehead, “You haven’t got a fever.”

  “Very funny,” he said, pushing her hand away. “You know what you were saying about Fleming having a hand in all this? I’m wondering if he’s being crafty about Vienna. You know what the SOE people are like… It just seems a bit odd that we know about a top secret meeting of Generals, yet don’t know when.”

  “What, you think we’re being hoodwinked?”

  “It feels like it.”

  She looked out at the sky again. The shafts of sunlight had gone, and it was getting darker. In some ways, a violent storm would be to their advantage. The Germans would be distracted and taken off guard. Gramigna arranged the mines so that the first one would set all the others off and hopefully destroy the tank, rather than disable it. If that happened, they would have three spare bazooka rockets. Leaning out, she peered at the road ahead. They were nearly there.

  “Put it out of your mind, Sam. We can discuss Vienna when we get back to the villa. Right now, we have an ambush to deal with, and I don’t think it’s going to be easy.”

  “Can’t be as bad as stealing a Jet Bomber. We were up against the entire German air base.”

  “This is different, Sam. The Germans will be right in our face, and by the looks of the sky, it’s going to be pissing with rain.”

  She worried now. Sam wasn’t used to this kind of warfare, with his mind on something else. He’d have to be very focused when they attacked the convoy. She felt the truck lurch as it pulled up at the grassy bank. They were there. Getting up, she knocked on the window of the cab.

  “Turn the truck around!” she shouted.

  The truck moved off again and turned around. It unsettled her that the driver forgot. Maybe the coming storm disturbed Gramigna’s men as well. Jumping down, she went in search of him. It may be the last time they’d speak before the attack. He sat on the back of his truck, gazing up at the sky.

  “Any last words, General?” She laughed at the faux pas. “Before the ambush, I mean,”

  “Not really, except to drive home my advice, take out the tanks first.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “It’s just that the halftracks have heavy machine guns, and they can make life extremely difficult.”

  “I’ve got it. The tanks come first. When it’s all over, if that’s possible to define, we’ll head back to the truck. I see no point in hanging around.”

  “We’ll be doing the same. We’ll see you back at the villa.”

  The storm hit as they carried the equipment down the hill. It hit without warning, trees rocking back and forth in a furious blast of wind that sent sheets of heavy rain sweeping across the valley. It was the kind of rain that soaks you in seconds, makes windscreen wipers useless, and burst the banks of fast-flowing rivers. It was hard to see where they were walking, let alone set their sights on enemy tanks at a distance of one hundred yards, and Kat couldn’t help wondering if they were going to pull this off.

  As they settled into the ruins of the old mill and set about connecting the electrical flex to detonate the buried mortars, the rain seemed to ease. The wind didn’t abate, and the rain was bound to get heavier again, but at the moment, they now could see the bridge. Kat squinted down at the main road. Unless the rain stopped her watch, the convoy was due in fifteen minutes. Right now, there was no sign of life. Soon, there sure as hell would be.

  Wiping the water from her eyes, she peered at Dore. “This is bound to get worse again. Are you going to be okay throwing grenades?”

  “I don’t see why not. As you said, it’s only rain.”

  “Ya, except that five minutes ago, I could barely see. If it comes down like that again…”

  “You’ll have problems sighting the bazookas. Then again, if we’re blind, so are the Germans. Imagine what it’ll be like for the guys in the halftracks. We’re hiding amongst the trees. They won’t be able to see a damn thing.” He laughed. “It’s actually perfect weather… for an ambush.”

  At that moment, a vivid bolt of lightning lit up the gloom. Almost instantly, a deafening clap of thunder rumbled and echoed through the surrounding hills. The storm was right above them.

  “Are we all ready?” she asked, looking at each of them in turn.

  She didn’t expect anyone to speak, so when they all shrugged or nodded, she took it as a yes. Picking up her field glasses, she studied the bridge and panned to where they’
d buried the Stokes Trench Mortars in a grassy bank. She couldn’t imagine a more innocent scene. Apart from the rain, it looked like something from a tourist guide. Experience the Charm of Rural Italy.

  As if on cue, she caught the distant rumble of tanks. They weren’t visible yet, but she could hear them, astonished how much noise tanks could make. By the sound of it, they were about a quarter of a mile away. In a few minutes, they would be here. She tensed. Gramigna hadn’t elaborated on how big the convoy would be.

  When the convoy came into sight, there was a staff car, four motorcycle escorts, five halftracks, and each positioned between four tanks. They were heavily armed. She glanced back at the team.

  “Stand by, guys. Remember, we’re targeting the first two tanks. When they’re out of the game, we hit the halftracks. Sam, you’re on the first tank. Whatever happens with the landmines, take out the gun turret. If you succeed, take out the machine gun on the first halftrack.”

  “Okie dokie.…”

  “Harry, you might need two rockets when you hit the second tank. Save your third rocket for the second halftrack. Aim for the engine compartment.”

  “Gotcha boss.”

  The convoy neared the bridge and the lead tank, a Panzer 3, arced around to enter it head on, and it barely fit. Kat watched it as it approached the ramparts. It started raining more heavily again, water bouncing off the turret. Another flash of lightning, an even louder clap of thunder. The tank slowed, its engine revving, smoke belching from the exhaust as it climbed the bridge. It neared the middle… almost there… almost…

  The first explosion was startling. Seconds later, the other mines went off. The tank seemed to lift off the bridge, smoke bursting from the main hatch and the driver’s window. Suddenly, all hell broke loose. Sam fired his bazooka, Harry hit the second tank, Dore opened up with a Sten gun, and another bolt of lightning struck. There were so many explosions, between their team and Gramigna’s, it was hard to know who was firing what.

  The Germans were firing back now. Men leaped from the trucks and were firing at will. Fumbling with the flex, her fingers slick with water, Kat twisted the handle on the 10 Cap Blasting Detonator. A volley of mortar fire ripped into two of the halftracks, drowning out the rifle fire. Sam fired his second rocket, taking out the machine gun. With so much smoke, it became hard to tell how much damage they’d inflicted. Then there was a mighty explosion. One of the tanks fired.