Both Steadfast and Gozhita, who were foolishly standing in the light of the dying flames of the lamp oil, turned towards the direction of the shots and gave spraying blasts with their Sten guns. There was no response.
‘Looks like we’ve dealt with that lot,’ said Gozhita in a gloating voice.
‘And how long before their reinforcements turn up?’ queried Steadfast.
‘I’ve no idea, but they’re not going to get the partisans. Come on, let’s get them out.’
‘Why are there only two of us? Where’s your other partisan?’
‘I don’t know. He was with us just before that damned Italian stuck a Berreta to my head. He didn’t come inside the fort. I’ll have a look around for him,’ replied Gozhita.
‘You’re crazy. Any minute, any second a patrol of Beretta-swinging Ities might turn up. We’ve got to move … fast. We’re here for the prisoners, not your rogue man.’
‘But …’
‘Forget him. I’ve come over 1000 miles to get you up here. And now you’re here you’d better do the job we’ve come for. That Dobransky’s worth any number of your men – or mine for that matter.’
Gozhita murmured a reluctant ‘OK, commander’ and the two men moved round to the large door on the west side of the fort, which they assumed led to the main part of the interior and the prisoners.
‘Steel!’ Gozhita whispered to Steadfast.
The partisan commander took off his knapsack and pulled out a package. Then he knelt down and laid his charge.
‘Round the side, quick.’
Steadfast and Gozhita sheltered against the lee of the north wall while the plastic explosive did its job. When the last of the debris had settled they returned to the doorway. The now twisted door resembled the rolled up top of a sardine tin but was still hanging on by its lowest hinge. Parts of the doorway arch lay strewn across the across the ground.
‘Watch out for guards – they can’t have left all those men alone in there,’ warned Gozhita.
The silence and darkness inside were spooky.
‘Might be booby-trapped,’ remarked Steadfast.
Gozhita was now of the same opinion – a silent dark prison made no sense at all.
They gingerly stepped over the smashed masonry and penetrated the darkness. Not a sound. Just the echo of their footsteps confirmed that they were in a large room. They turned a bit to the left. Nothing. To the right. Only a pile of 6-inch shells, stacked against the wall.
‘Be ready to fire, I’m going to light a match,’ warned Gozhita.
Steadfast heard the scrape of match on sandpaper, then saw the first spark turn into a flame. The bare walls of the large room were grotesquely illuminated by a feeble cold light. The huge shadows of the two men on the stone walls made the scene reminiscent of a horror film. But it was light enough to show that the room was completely empty.
Steadfast turned to Gozhita: ‘When were the prisoners last here?’
‘I … I don’t know.’
‘You do. When? When? Tell me when!’
‘They were here on the twenty-fourth.’
‘Right. And now tell me how you know that.’
‘Just a rumour.’
‘Don’t mess with me Gozhita. How do you know the partisans were here on the twenty-fourth?’
‘One of the Italian soldiers is a cousin of one of the men.’
‘Now we’re talking.’
‘What do you mean.’
‘I mean, Gozhita, that the Italians have known about every damn move we’ve made since my men arrived. They were on the beach when we came. They blocked the path we were to use. We change to another path and they mine it. And when we get here, they’ve moved the prisoners.’
‘So?’
‘Gozhita, you know the answer but you are too bloody pig-headed to admit it. You’ve got a traitor in your party. So who is this cousin? And, more to the point, where is he?’
‘He’s the one that’s disappeared.’
‘And was he one of yours, or one from the mountains?’
‘From the mountains.’
‘So now we know who’s been talking!’
‘Damn you, Commander! You’re too bloody right. God, I’ve been so trusting on this job. There was a time when family meant something. But now?’
‘And what are you going to do about him?’
‘Kill him, of course,’ said Gozhita in a matter of fact way. ‘He’s no better than an Itie or a Jerry now. He can’t have gone far. He’ll be lurking somewhere, waiting for the Ities to return.’
‘And how do you intend to find him?’ asked Steadfast.
‘I don’t Commander. Let him find us. We’ll just hang around in a careless sort of way. He’ll take the bait. He’s a very nasty type.’
‘Gozhita, I salute you,’ said Steadfast.
The two men sat down with their backs to the wall of the fort and began to smoke and chat. They were onto their second cigarettes before they heard a footfall from the eastern side of the fort. Then a voice called out, ‘Capitano?’
‘That’s Tomasso,’ whispered Gozhita. Then, switching to Italian he called, ‘Da questa parte, Tomasso.’
Tomasso, who barely knew Gozhita readily mistook his ‘Over here’ for the response of the Italian captain, and briskly came forward out of the darkness. He was about fifteen feet from Gozhita and Steadfast when he realised his mistake.
‘Gozhita!’ he cried in alarm, and turned to run.
Gozhita threw aside his gun and leapt to his feet while unsheathing a large dagger. Steadfast could see it’s menacing blade glinting as Gozhita lunged towards Tomasso.
‘You low filthy son of a bitch!’ he cried as he grabbed the fleeing partisan. There was a short scuffle before Gozhita triumphantly shouted, ‘Got you, you traitorous devil.’ By now Gozhita’s dagger was at Tomasso’s throat. Gozhita pushed Tomasso forward to within a yard of Steadfast.
‘Commander,’ said Gozhita, ‘this is how we deal with traitors.’
Steadfast saw the blood spurt out as Gozhita despatched Tomasso with a single sharp and deep slash. He let the traitor drop to the ground, picked up his gun and calmly walked towards the path down to the beach. Steadfast followed in silence.
When they were near the beach Steadfast remarked, ‘All we can do now is go back to the boats and prepare for our next attack.’
‘What attack?’ asked Gozhita.
‘Well, I’m not stupid. I take it you have men who keep an eye on traffic in and out of the fort on the other side of the tunnel?’
‘Of course.’
‘And have they seen the prisoners leave?’
‘No.’
‘So where are they? Think about it, Gozhita! There’s only one place they can be. And tomorrow night they’re coming out of there.’
10 - Second attack at Bay C
‘You’re right, commander,’ said Gozhita, now back with Steadfast on Fergusson’s boat. ‘The prisoners must be in the tunnel.’
‘Exactly,’ replied Steadfast. ‘But how the hell are we to get at them there?’
‘The rock face path of course,’ replied Gozhita.
‘Not the rock face again!’
‘Yes, the rock face again, commander.’
‘But they’ll be ready for us this time. We’ll be shot to pieces as we come over the top.’
‘Not if they think the attack is coming from another direction.’
‘Which direction?’
‘Bay X.’
‘Wouldn’t that be very difficult?’
‘It would indeed, commander. The cliffs are worse than Bay C. But, remember, we’re not actually going to attack from Bay X. We just have to convince the Italians that we’re coming that way.’
‘How?’
‘Well, we’ve had one traitor whose caused us a lot of trouble. Now we need a “traitor” to help us.’
‘Stop talking in riddles, Gozhita. What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Simple. One of my men will get a m
essage through to the Italians to tell them of an attack from Bay X tomorrow night.’
‘Pull the other one, Gozhita. They’re not going to fall for a rumour like that.’
‘It’s all we’ve got, commander.’
‘It’s not, you know. We could actually make a feint at Bay X.’
‘Come off it, commander. I’ve barely enough men for an attack on the fort, let alone a diversion as well.’
‘Don’t you worry about men,’ replied Steadfast. ‘I’ve got three boatloads of seaman who’d love to stretch their legs after several days cooped up. I’ll get some of them to land at Bay X and make a lot of noise or something like that – I won’t let them actually come up to the fort, though.’
‘I like that idea. Anything to draw off a few Italians. And I wouldn’t mind making fools of them either.’
‘And I’ve an idea for another little surprise.’
***
Shortly before ten p.m. on the following night Steadfast briefed Truscott on the feint he was to make at Bay X: ‘Your men should be OK if you don’t go too far up. From what Gozhita says, you won’t be able to get far up in any case. Remember, you’re just there to get yourselves noticed and keep the Italians occupied. You’ll have to use your judgement about how far to press your men. If you’re too amateurish, the Italians might smell a rat. If you overdo the dramatics, you could be … Well, you know what I mean.’
‘I’m sure it won’t come to that, sir.’
‘And be prepared to make a quick get-away. No heroics. Your job is simply to keep the Italians looking north. Only fire in self-defence.’
At the same time that Truscott set off for Bay X, Steadfast took the other two gun boats to Bay C. As before, Fergusson’s boat took Steadfast, Gozhita and his now six remaining partisans in to the shore.
‘Have you got it?’ Steadfast whispered to Gozhita.
‘Yes, it’s quite safe in my rucksack.’
‘Good. It could be all the difference between success and failure.’
On landing Gozhita led the way, with Steadfast and the partisans following in his footsteps. Steadfast noticed that this time Gozhita had placed one of his most trusted men at the rear – he was beginning to take treachery more seriously.
During the first part of the ascent, before they reached the rock face, Steadfast just put one foot in front of another. No one spoke and, if they had, he would not have understood a word. The silence and the monotony were hard to take. He brooded on his and the mission’s situation. Everything had gone wrong so far and yet so little was under his control. He could manoeuvre the boats in and out of the bays but on land he had to defer to Gozhita. Never for one moment did he doubt the partisan leader’s courage. But he was leading a disorderly pack of men, with whom he seemed strangely remote. As Steadfast’s brooding continued he realised to his dismay that the whole operation was really just Gozhita and himself. If either of them were to be put out of action, where would the operation be? He kicked himself for not having appointed a second-in-command from amongst his officers. And what about Gozhita – did he have a second-in-command?
It was a relief to Steadfast when Gozhita called for the men to slow down as they approached the fort around midnight. The forthcoming action would take his mind off the precariousness of his situation.
***
Meanwhile, Truscott had reached Bay X and landed with a party of seamen and a guide from the partisans. They began their ascent at 11.30 p.m. and reached the first rock face at around midnight. Truscott inspected the face and decided that there was no hope of going further, so he ordered his men to begin lobbing grenades vaguely up the cliff-side accompanied by bursts of automatic fire. (Truscott refused to take Steadfast’s ‘no firing’ command too literally. And, anyway, he told himself, Steadfast would never know.) After ten minutes of making enough noise to satisfy his sense of honour, Truscott was rewarded by the sound of Italian voices above him.
‘They’re down there, capitano!’
At the sound of these voices, Truscott mentally congratulated himself on his land-war prowess. He could now, with honour, pull back his forces, none of whom were trained for this kind of operation. Then came the cry: ‘Avanti! Let’s get them!’
Truscott shuddered. Surely the Italians were safely above him, with a near impassable rock face to keep them at bay. Yet now they were preparing to advance. Neither he nor his men had come out expecting a battle – it was just a feint, after all.
‘Pull back, lads … fast,’ he ordered.
The men, who had been much enjoying their night away from the boats, realised that they were now being pursued by real soldiers with real guns. They turned and scrambled down the cliff side. In the darkness they banged into rocks, twisted ankles in pot holes and fell prostrate into hollows. From time to time they would collect themselves enough to throw the occasional grenade into the darkness behind them. When they looked back, all they saw was the flashes of the sporadic Italian firing and a few streams of red tracer. Bullets pinged off rocks and the cries of ‘Avanti’ filled the air as the men desperately raced to the dinghies.
Truscott, who had been at the front when the men began their frantic descent, was now at the back, urging his more laggardly men on, turning at times to fire a few Sten gun rounds. First one man fell. When Truscott bent down to help him, he saw that the sailor had been shot clean through the heart. On he went. An able seaman ahead of him, panting and stumbling down the cliff face, suddenly crumpled and lay writhing on the ground with a shattered leg.
‘Stretcher party!’ shouted Truscott into the darkness. ‘Oakley’s been hit.’ Two men came back, grabbed Oakley by the arms and his good leg and began to manhandle him down the hill. Their slow, upright shapes were just the target that the Italians needed. A burst of Beretta and the ‘stretcher party’ lay dead on the ground.
By now those men still on their feet were nearing the beach. The Italian voices sounded closer, the firing hotter and better aimed. The men glanced back occasionally but the darkness concealed the size and location of the pursuing force.
‘OK, lads, step on it now. We’re nearly there,’ called out Truscott, now panicking as much as his men were. Together they put on speed as they scrambled over the last few rocks and tumbled down onto the beach.
As the men piled into the dinghies, the frequent bursts of Beretta fire from the cliffs above them confirmed the closeness of their pursuers. This was confirmed by the odd, badly aimed, grenade. Slowly the boats pulled away from the perilous shore. Thinking that his night’s work was over, Truscott called out, ‘Well done, men. You’re a credit to the Navy. Those Ities won’t forget you in a hurry.’ And in celebration, Truscott pointed a Sten gun to the sky and let off a triumphant stream of green tracer.
He had spoken and acted too soon. One final grenade found its mark as it fell into one of the dinghies and exploded before the men could find it in the darkness and throw it out. In one deafening, shattering explosion, six men and the dinghy vanished into the black night.
In the other dinghy the men pulled hard at the oars and disappeared out to sea. They were barely fifty yards from the shore when the darkness was shattered by the powerful, dazzlingly glare of a rocket flare launched from the shore. The oarsmen could now see several Italians running onto the beach. The pursuers stopped, knelt, and took aim. Bullets splattered the sea and thudded into the planking of the dinghy. One oarsman fell as he was struck in the chest. Moments later Truscott felt a hot stinging pain in his right shoulder.
Had Steadfast been there he would have been relieved to see that at least the operation had gone to plan in its essentials since Truscott’s party seemed to have kept the bulk of the Italian force well-occupied and away from the fort. He might have seen the losses as a bit of a problem – he had never been authorised to land his men. But Steadfast was engaged with bigger challenges, and the night was to end with a nasty surprise.
***
At midnight the attack party reached the boundary of the for
t. Gozhita and Steadfast, who were by now familiar with the layout, went ahead to reconnoitre.
‘That’s odd,’ remarked Steadfast as he gazed at several oil drums, a pile of logs and a motorbike, none of which had been there the night before. ‘They seem to be turning the fort into a junk yard.’
‘Don’t try to understand the Italians, commander. They’re an untidy lot. No discipline. Let’s just get to work.’
But the nature of the junk quickly became clear when Gozhita walked back to the fort’s perimeter and waved to his men to come and join him. He indicated the positions that he wanted them to take up around the courtyard. One of the men was tip-toeing over to the southwest corner when he bumped into the motorbike. The bike – or parts of the bike – shot into the air with an ear-splitting bang and the partisan disintegrated. Several of the other partisans were lacerated by the remnants of the machine; others were smeared with the remains of their fellows.
‘Booby traps! That’s what all this mess is about,’ shouted Steadfast.
‘Fiendishly cunning: they kill our men and the noise tells the Italians we’ve arrived at the same time. We’ve underestimated them, commander.’
‘Too bloody true. They’ll be on us in no time now.’
‘I think not, commander. Don’t forget, Truscott will be keeping a good part of their force occupied right now. They’re short of men – that’s why they booby-trapped the place. And, in any case, the Nazis will be here tomorrow to take the prisoners. None of those Italians want to tell them the cupboard is bare. They’ll cling to the prisoners tonight. They’ll let us go as long as they can keep their booty.’
Action This Day (A Commander Steadfast Thriller) Page 10
