by Tim Wheat
“Blow the bombs, man the M1, kill, flank, kill, retreat, man the machine guns, retreat, kill, kill, kill, kill…”
George pulled the plunger out on the detonator and prepared for the carnage he was about to create. He watched the two men argue in the distance, noticed the others studying their surroundings; and listened to the wind blow across the soon to be battlefield.
“Drift of an inch at one-hundred yards. No more,” George thought to himself, referring to the flight of a 30.06 round downrange.
“George. George.”
Ahiga froze in position at hearing his name yelled across the camp.
“George. Report to me right now,” the small man with the mustache echoed himself.
They must have tortured Angela until she told them of his presence. No longer did Ahiga doubt that they had come prepared to do battle. He was certain now that a heavy machine gun of some type laid in wait inside of the other truck. Another squad of troops would storm around the bend in case this one failed. Then, something amazing happened, and Ahiga almost chuckled out loud.
“Yes sir,” came the reply of the Lieutenant fifty yards below him, as he ran to the call of his superior.
Ahiga relaxed, and took note of the situation again. It was obvious these men were not a well-seasoned team like the first group of commandos. They moved like veterans, and professionals, but not like a team. It was likely, thought Ahiga, that he had eliminated Hoff’s number one unit, and another unit had replaced them. A plan began to form in his mind, and George unhooked the det cord from the detonator.
Below him, the German private who the lieutenant had scolded earlier, stood watch over th e dead body Ahiga had used as bait. Earlier, George had noticed that the man resembled himself, and had thought of impersonating him. Thinking then that he would be found out with ease, the plan had dismissed itself from his mind in an instant. Now, though, with a very real probability that these men didn’t know each other, and coupled with the fact that camo paint covered the soldier’s faces, it had a chance of working. Were his chances better in a fight, however, or as a subversive?
George decided in short order to be subversive. He had built his current position in such a way as to sneak in and out of it without being detected. He removed a small metal box from his pocket and within thirty seconds, had painted his entire face. Staying low, and crawling in silence for twenty yards he made it to the wildlife path through the trees. Jackrabbits, coyote, and other small animals had carved a neat trail through the thick brush, and George had been thankful to find it there earlier. He crawled to within feet of his quarry, and stopped, still undetected.
Ahiga scanned the scene in front of him and was thankful to see that the argument between the Colonel and the commando had escalated. He could hear their voices as clear as his own breathing, though he wasn’t listening to what they were saying. It didn’t matter what they were fighting about. What mattered to him, was that the other men were now focusing on the argument, rather than the hillside, or more important, the man in front of him.
George emerged from the woods, and in less than a half second, delivered a punishing blow with his fist to the ear of the German soldier. Without making a sound he collected the slumping body of the man, folding him in half, and picking him up. His knees pressed to his face, and his legs sticking straight into the air, the soldier must have weighed two-hundred pounds, and Ahiga’s body protested the strain. In less than five seconds, he had subdued the man, and was melting back into the trees.
Bent at the waist, George pulled the other man’s body in tight to his shoulder, cradling the weight in his tree trunk arms. Ahiga had ruled out dragging the soldier up the hill, though it would have been the easiest method, it would have been too loud. This was how it had to be done.
He had moved five yards when his back began to burn from the exertion, and beads of sweat began pouring from his face. His biceps felt like they were on fire and he fought to keep his breathing even.
“You have to do this one time in your life, George, but you have to do it,” he thought to himself.
Though slumped over, Ahiga still stood taller than the average small mammal, and fought to stay silent on the game trail. He had trimmed most of the thorns away, but had not accounted for hauling another human up the path to his position. Just when he didn’t think he could go any more, he arrived in position.
George laid the other man down, peered around the corner, and was grateful to see the soldiers still watching the argument. Thirty seconds had passed since he had grabbed the German, but any one of the others could have noticed the absence. With lightning speed he switched clothes with the unconscious man, marveling at the fit. They had the exact same body type.
“It must be my lucky day,” George uttered as he tied a gag in the other man’s mouth, slung him over his shoulder, and peered back around the trees. He just had a few yards to cover, but there would be no secrecy this time. He would be exposed as he carried the other man to his perch over the camp.
“Private Murphy.” one of the other soldiers barked. “Private Murphy.”
All attention was now in his direction. Someone had noticed the absence of the soldier, and even the argument between the two superiors halted. With all eyes in his direction George knew what needed to be done. Without hesitation, he tore the gag from the other man’s mouth, removed his knife from its sheath, and delivered a single deadly blow to his carotid artery.
In an instant blood pumped from the man’s neck at an incredible pace, and his eyes flew open, a look of horror replacing their previous slumber. Adrenaline made the blood pump faster, though, and as he let out his first blood curdling scream, George, who had confiscated the man’s German made G41 semi-automatic rifle, began yelling as well. In short succession he fired a number of shots into the dying man’s face, neck, and chest.
“Over here. He’s over here. I got him. I got him.” George unsnapped the .45 caliber pistol from his holster and fired two more shots, then threw it on the German soldier’s convulsing body.
Falling to his stomach and sliding backward down the game trail, George came to rest yards away, took careful aim, and put his remaining rounds in the face of the other man. He almost felt bad for the overkill, but in order to better his chances with the others he must not be recognized by anyone. George Ahiga was now Private Murphy.
Yards behind him, a team of six men took up position to his right and flanks. They studyied the hillside as quiet once again ruled the scene. Each man’s senses were at the height of their abilities, and their trigger fingers itched for action. When the new Private Murphy belly crawled into the clear from the wildlife trail, he was almost shot. Getting to his feet, his German rifle slung over his shoulder, he smiled a toothy grin.
“You boys just gonna stand there, or are we gonna get this show on the road.”
***
As the others relaxed, the small Colonel charged across the camp. You could see the anger in his face, and being no stranger to a good old fashioned tongue lashing, Ahiga snapped to attention and saluted his superior. He hadn’t expected what came next as the small man slapped him in the face, with what George assumed to be all of his might. Anger burned deep inside of him, but he managed to look sheepish as the man accosted him in German.
“Moron. Sie hatten impliziten Anweisungen, um die Menschen zu erfassen. Erklaren Sie sich.”
Besides “Nein”, George didn’t speak a single word of German. His mind raced as he ascertained his tactical options should he be found out already. Blowing everyone up and slitting some throats came more naturally, but now was the time to think like an intelligence officer, not a trained killer. He recognized the anger in his superior officer’s voice, and contemplated his retort. Smooth and easy, with no tinge of hate or fear, his response was even and measured.
“English sir.”
“What.” was the incredulous reply.
“Are we not to speak English while representing American troops on American soil?”
Laughter spread amongst the men who had heard the retort, but the withering glare of the small officer soon stifled it.
“Of course, Murphy, is it?” the colonel stood on his toes, peering into the uncaring eyes of Ahiga. “Correct me again, ever, and I will remove your balls, cook them over an open fire, feed them to you, and slit your throat.”
As the smaller man took a step back George continued to meet his stare, but added the slightest smirk. He could see the anger inside of the Colonel, and regretted the arrogant move. His goal was not to make a play for power; it was to find Angela and her sister. If this man could lead him to Dietrich Hoff, then George needed to stay near him. Still, it didn’t hurt to have the other men on his side. Again, he answered in a calm and even tone.
“Yes sir. Balls in my throat, sir.”
More laughter echoed this time, as the rest of the men, believing the lone defender to be subdued, had gravitated to the area. They began speaking to each other as the Colonel, shadowed by the other officer, made their way up the hill. They ascended to the position of the dead body, and rounding the big spruce, came upon the grizzly scene.
“Murphy. Get up here now.”
Ahiga galloped up the hillside and was beside the two men in a few seconds. The Colonel, a look of surprise on his face, addressed him.
“You shot his face off.”
“Yes sir.”
“Why did you do that?”
“He was shooting at me sir.”
“You can knock it off with the sir bullshit,” the colonel’s frustration showed. “Is that him, doc?”
Now Ahiga knew that the other man was a doctor. He assumed him to be a medical doctor, and that gave George some hope. If a doctor had been the only survivor of the previous raid, there was a good chance he had been there to save Angela, not kill her. It made sense to make him one of the kidnappers. In a firefight situation you never want the doc to get killed. He always went where the least amount of danger resided.
“I can’t be sure, Hans. I saw him from a distance, but he fought like the devil himself. It’s hard to believe Murphy subdued him with such ease.”
Both men looked back at Ahiga expecting an explanation, and they received one.
“I was standing at my post when I heard a noise behind me, in the forest,” now he knew the small man’s name was Hans. George was going to have to make this up as he went. “As I was staring into the underbrush I thought I saw a slight movement, so I got down on the ground, and saw the wildlife trail over there to our right.” Ahiga motioned to his right, and both men acknowledged its existence. “He was moving from right to left, and he was quiet. I doubt what I heard back here was even him, the man was a ghost.”
“That sounds like the man I saw before,” said the doctor.
Nodding, George continued. “Anyway, I didn’t have a good shot at him, and I knew we wanted to take him alive, so, as he crouched right there,” Ahiga pointed to a spot just behind the spruce, “I belly crawled to a position where I could make an attempt to disarm, or disable him.”
“No way,” the doctor said.
“I thought like you,” George said, “but just the same, I must not have been as quiet as him, because he looked right at me, drew his pistol and started firing. I already had my rifle trained right on his nose, and my first shot hit him in the neck, I think.” Ahiga loosed a sheepish smiled. “Guess I must have pushed through it a little bit.”
His superiors studied the area for a few minutes, taking into account what he had told them. Without being too conspicuous, George also took in the grisly scene, hashing out the rest of the story in his mind. Hans and the doctor seemed to come to an agreement, and the former questioned.
“Why did you advance on him once you saw him? Why not alert the rest of us?”
Inwardly George smiled. He had prepared for this.
“My first instinct was to do just that, but he moved so fast, and then when he got to the spruce he just stopped. I saw him looking at that outcropping over there,” Ahiga motioned fifteen yards to their left. “I remembered our debrief, this man was dangerous, so I took no chances. I think he had something waiting for us.”
Both Hans and the doctor focused their gaze now on the outcropping.
“Well, let’s see what we can see,” came the simple reply from Hans.
After a few steps to their left the men came into sight of the perch George had created. The two men were buying into his story, hook, line, and sinker. Ahiga finished the ruse.
“Look at all that firepower. He had explosives, our own machine guns with a thousand rounds, and an American M1, with enough ammo to hold off a small army. I’d say you guys owe me a debt of gratitude for keeping him from his little love nest here.”
Studying the death that had awaited them, Hans and the doctor could not help but believe the story. The dead body near the giant spruce tree was too disfigured to be identified at this time and place. He would have to be shipped back to Germany to compare his dental records. Hans saw little chance of the body ever making that trip. A burial in the Pacific Ocean, via airplane, seemed a more likely scenario.
“It looks as if you are a hero, Private Murphy. To reward you I’ll let you start the clean-up process. Perhaps we should start with your friend over there. Get his body on the truck. NOW.”
Hans said the words with great contempt for those around him. They had all laughed at him more than once, which was once more than he allowed. No matter, though, they all would be dead in due time. As the men worked to clean up the scene and load the fallen commandos onto the trucks, Hans reflected.
He had spent so much time alone, charting installations, mapping movements of the enemy, and following subversives. How had he let a man like this “ghost” slip through the cracks? Part of his job was to be prepared for all circumstances, but he had not seen this coming. To his left, the stocky man who had killed the ghost now carried the lifeless form on his shoulder toward the trucks. Hans smiled to himself. He could have ordered the trucks moved to accommodate the loading process, but these men had mocked him and made him feel like a fool. They were lucky to still be alive, and not just entrenched in some menial labor. Breathing deep through his nostrils, a sweet smell overloaded his senses. Having not noticed it before, Hans took note of the hillside around him, and saw that he was standing in a large patch of beautiful yellow flowers. The maniacal smile returned to his lips while he took in the scene.
“What a beautiful place to die.”
*******************
41.
Rex Chase had never been on an airplane before, and as his first trip lumbered through the air, he was hooked. Though the spring day had been the longest of his life, he had sat staring out the window, watching the pavement whiz by during takeoff. Any other time, he would have had a smile on his face, and cracked jokes about how nervous he was. Today was different, though. Today, he had little time for benign jokes.
His mood had loosened, just a bit, however, over the course of the trip. During the first hours, he had poured over the reading The General had given him. Earlier he had estimated the endeavor would take him all night. Determination at being prepared to face his love’s killer, or killers, had cut that time to four hours. Every section, of every book, was now forever etched in his mind. Sometimes his “picture memory” had served him wrong, like when he saw his neighbor, Gertrude Evans, in the nude, but it was times like these he excelled.
The scope of his readings had astonished Chase. Subjects covered varied from covert espionage tactics, to exchanging pleasantries in Northern Africa. His mind acted like a sponge, though, soaking up every bit of information. Sometimes, he would read at astonishing speeds, but become bored, or lose focus, and not remember what he had studied. Tonight’s education, though, seemed focused, and more intense, than any other in his life.
After the day he had just endured, exhaustion should have already set in, but that wasn’t the fact. His mind was racing, and he couldn’t turn it off.
He thought about the man who had attempted to kill him. Chase assumed he had approached his love’s home minutes after the murder of Mary Elizabeth, and now Rex had some idea why. Outlined in his readings was information on a worldwide empire, bent on domination. The kid with the jet black hair, and diminutive mustache, must somehow be involved in that group.
The General had inserted liner notes, to help Chase understand some of what he was reading, but they hadn’t been necessary. His skills in matching one scenario to another were uncanny. One of the first thick books he had read by Nicholas Sarff, a German immigrant physicist had piqued Chase’s interest. His work was amazing, and Chase marveled that Harvard taught none of the theories.
Before he had even moved onto the next section, however, Chase deduced that his best friend, Chief, was in Arizona, shadowing Sarff. It’s the only thing that made sense. Alexei had made mention of a smart, fat, man, and Rex Chase now pictured that man to be Nicholas Sarff.
Questions still abound in his mind, and his homework complete, Chase had decided to rest his brain, and move into the cabin with the pilot.
“Mind if I watch from the jump?” Chase used some of the jargon he had picked up in one of the books.
“The jump? Hell, take a seat right over there.” Motioning to the co-pilot’s seat, the man flying the plane was in his mid-thirties with brown hair and an easy demeanor. “I thought maybe you fell asleep back there. I gotta be honest; it was getting kind of boring up here.” He stretched, unbuckled his safety belt, and as Chase sat down in the co-pilots seat, began heading out of the cabin. “Mind that yoke right there, son. My butt is killing me. Don’t do anything crazy. I’ll be right back,” and then he left.
A few hours ago being handed the stick on a large lumbering aircraft such as this would have terrified Chase. Two hours ago, though, he had read everything there was to read about piloting an aircraft. He understood the physics behind every move his body could make in here, and had even memorized the layout of this particular cabin.
