Dick Donnelly of the Paratroops

by Marshall McClintock

  CHAPTER SIX

  SPECIAL MISSION

  Dick Donnelly and his friends were not thinking of Italy. They werethinking of more immediate objectives—Bizerte, Tunis, and the drivingof Rommel’s Germans into the Mediterranean. During the course of thataction they were kept a little busier than in their first few weeks.There were no complaints of inaction such as had filled the airpreviously.

  Max Burckhardt missed one battle when he was in the hospital with atouch of fever. Lefty Larkin was killed in another battle, and a fewother casualties cut down their numbers somewhat. Bert O’Leary had beensent back to a main hospital for his leg to heal, but young Latham’shand wound had kept him out of only two actions. Vince Salamone, afterhis release from the guardhouse, had become the greatest battler ofthem all, making up for lost time with a vengeance.

  It was in the invasion of Sicily that the group first met George“Boom-Boom” Slade. He was not a paratrooper, really, but he foundhimself joining more and more paratroop actions. Slade was a mastersergeant and a demolition expert. He knew dynamite and nitroglycerin aswell as most soldiers knew their Garand rifles. He knew theconstruction of bridges, dams, radio towers, so thoroughly that hecould place a small blast in exactly the spot that would crack the dam,or demolish the bridge, or topple the tower. Naturally, his constantwork with explosives had given him the nickname of “Boom-Boom” and hedidn’t mind it.

  “Funny,” he said one day, “but I’ve gotten so I love blowing up things.You work with something long enough and you get to like it, I guess.”

  He did not look like a man who would love explosives. He was short andrather slight in build, with mouse-colored hair and a colorless face.The glasses he wore made him look like a rather timid student. He wasquiet and mild, a gentle person who liked to feed stray cats and dandlebabies on his knee.

  But when he set to work at his profession, he changed. Dick Donnellyhad been amazed the first time Slade went along with them in Sicily.They were to hold one bridge and blow up two others behind the Germanlines. Lieutenant Scotti had stayed with the force at the bridge theywere to hold for the advancing Americans, while Dick went off withSlade and a few others to blow up the bridges on two side roads.

  Dick could not believe that this mild little man could possibly be ademolition expert. In the first place, he hated jumping from a plane ina parachute, but never mentioned the fact. Dick knew it by the agonizedexpression on Slade’s face. Then once on the ground, he acted as if hedidn’t know where to turn, and just followed Dick around like anobedient, if slightly frightened, dog. But when they reached the firstbridge, Slade changed. He stood off and eyed the structure, almostforgetting those around him. Dick had meanwhile placed his men to holdoff any German patrols that might chance that way, but he kept his eyeson Slade. In less than two minutes, the little man had decided exactlywhere the charge of dynamite should be placed, and set at that job witha swiftness and precision that was wonderful to watch. In five minutesmore they all withdrew some distance and the bridge was blown up. Oneend rose in the air about six feet as the other end cracked, and theentire center span fell into the bed of the stream below.

  Slade went back for a quick look at his work and seemed pleased.“Good,” he muttered to himself. “Our engineers can get another spanacross there for our own men in half an hour.”

  That had been the idea—to blow up the bridge so that it could not beused by retreating Germans but could be used by advancing Americansafter only a short delay. The Germans would be too hard-pressed by theAmericans to take the half-hour necessary for the repair. Foot-troopswould be able to ford or swim the stream, but trucks and heavy gunswould be caught—and captured!

  After the first bridge demolition, Slade, once more the meeksubordinate, had turned to Dick, and had trotted along behind asDonnelly headed for the second bridge, two miles away. There had been ashort fight there—with four German soldiers left to guard the bridge.Slade wasn’t much good in fighting, Dick saw. Not that he was afraid—hewas just ineffectual. The other men with Dick were among the best, andthe Germans had been disposed of quickly. Slade did an even faster jobon the second bridge, and then the whole party had cut back through thewoods to join Lieutenant Scotti and the main force of paratroopers atthe bridge which had been held open. Scotti had been amazed to see themreturn so quickly, thought something must have gone wrong. When DickDonnelly told him about the blowing up of the two bridges, thelieutenant had looked at the quiet little Slade with admiration.

  “I never knew a man whose nickname fitted him less,” he said. “Hedoesn’t look like a man called ‘Boom-Boom’!”

  “Except when he’s about to blow up a bridge,” Dick replied.

  There had been a good battle when the retreating Germans tried to takethe bridge back from the paratroopers. But Scotti’s forces had beenaugmented by other parachute companies which had been on othermissions, and they succeeded in holding off the Germans until theadvancing Americans on the other side had caught up with them. And thenthe Germans, caught between the two fires, had been annihilated.

  Max Burckhardt insisted that this Sicilian action had been the best ofall they had taken part in. He had seen more men in the hated Naziuniform go down under a withering fire, and he had talked to some ofthe prisoners afterward. They always seemed a little surprised to finda man speaking perfect German, with a family in Germany, fightingagainst them this way, and Max enjoyed watching their bewilderment, andenjoyed seeing the first doubts creep into their minds about whether ornot their Fuehrer really would lead them to victory in this war againstthe democracies.

  After the tough fighting in Sicily, Captain Marker’s company ofparatroopers—but the Captain was a Major by this time—had been given athree weeks’ rest in Algiers. They enjoyed it immensely until theylearned that they had missed the landing at Salerno because of theirfurloughs. But later they were based on the Italian mainland, not farbehind the advancing American and British troops fighting their way upthe peninsula. When the advance slowed down, became bogged in mud andthen stopped by the Germans who entrenched themselves in the hills andfought for every inch of territory, the three-star general went into ahuddle with his staff.

  “We’ve got to pull an ace out of our sleeves,” he said. “We won’t getgoing until we’ve taken Maletta, and we’re still twenty miles away fromit. Yes—we’ve got to pull a fast one.”

  “Like the Wadizam Pass action?” an aide suggested.

  “Well—not quite,” the general said, “but it gives me an idea.”

  He studied the map of the region around the town of Maletta. It was asmall town. More than a village, it was still not a city of any greatsize or importance, until this moment. There was a junction of tworailroads there—and also of the two main roads leading north. Otherroads which cut across the many hills were steep and almost impassablefor heavily motorized and mechanized forces. The Americans knew theywould have to drive straight up the Maletta valley to that town andtake it. Then they could really move ahead. Until then they were stuck.And cracking Maletta looked like an almost impossible job because ofthe peculiarities of the land around it.

  “Maybe a variation of the Wadizam technique would work,” the generalsaid. “Let’s go over the possibilities.”

  For hours the men planned, checked, threw out one plan and devisedanother. Three days later they called Major Marker to them and wentover the plan with him.

  “Just about six men, that’s all,” the general said. “It sounds like atiny force to send on this job, but a larger one would be spotted androunded up. They’d trip over their own feet. But six men—yes, theymight be able to do it if they were really good men. After your othersuccesses, Major, we concluded you might have the men under yourcommand.”

  “Yes, I’ve got the men,” the Major said with a smile. “I’d like to goalong myself.”

  “Can’t spare you for this job,” the general said. “We need you too muchelsewhere.”

  “
What do you need especially?” the Major asked. “What specialqualifications must the men have?”

  “Well, most of them should speak Italian—and well, too,” the generalsaid. “You might have someone who speaks German along, too, becauseit’s Germans we’re fighting. The Italians will work with theunderground, of course, and they’ve got to be able to make theunderground accept and trust them. Then, among them, you must choose areally good radio man and a demolition expert.”

  “I’ll do it, sir,” the Major replied. “I can pick my men without anytrouble. And they’re men who’ll do the job if it can conceivably bedone—and maybe they can do it even if it’s impossible!”

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  _Major Marker and the Men Went Over Their Plan_]

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  “Oh—like the gang which came back from the dam in the Wadizam Passaction?” the general laughed. “They did the impossible.”

  “Yes, I’m thinking of some of those same men,” Major Marker replied.“Who shall give them their instructions?”

  “I’ll do it myself,” the general said. “Can you have them here tomorrowafternoon?”

  “Yes, sir,” the Major replied. “Tomorrow afternoon—six picked men.”

  And so it was that six men set off with Major Marker for the general’sheadquarters. At first they did not know that was where they weregoing, but the Major told them after they were speeding along the roadin the big command car. Then they were more mystified than ever. TheMajor would say nothing but, “Something special. Very interesting job.Wish I could go too.”

  Next to him sat Lieutenant Jerry Scotti, who was to be in command onthis mysterious mission. There was Dick Donnelly, second in command,and Corporal Tony Avella for the radio work. Taking up enough room foralmost two men in the rear seat was Private Vincent Salamone, thehome-run king of baseball in peacetime, the toughest paratrooper ofthem all in war. As the Major later remarked to the general, “Everybodyin Italy knows the name of Vince Salamone. He’s an idol over here justthe way he is at home. He’ll win over the Italians in a minute!”

  All those four men spoke Italian well, like natives. They knew Italyand the Italian people thoroughly. Major Marker felt sure that withfour out of six speaking Italian so well, this qualification of thegeneral’s had been met with complete satisfaction. The fifth man wasPrivate Max Burckhardt. He spoke German, and he was a veteran of theWadizam dam suicide detachment. The sixth man, since he had to be ademolition expert, was George “Boom-Boom” Slade, who now sat silentlybeside Vince Salamone, looking most insignificant beside the bulk ofthe famous ball player.

  Major Marker looked over his six selections and smiled. They were allgood tough fighters, with plenty of seasoning. And they got along welltogether. They were good personal friends. The Major knew thatLieutenant Scotti was “Jerry” to the rest of them except when otherofficers were around. And he knew that the whole crowd would followDick Donnelly to the ends of the earth.

  The general was impressed too, but not so much as the six men whosuddenly found themselves in his presence. Inside of ten minutes,however, they were at their ease. They sat in a plain room with a desk,a big table, about ten chairs, and some large maps on the wall. Thegeneral sat at ease, with his collar open, smoking a cigarette. First,he made the men feel at ease when he talked with them about the WadizamPass affair and other actions in which they had taken part. He seemedfamiliar with all details, much to their surprise.

  When he saw that they were comfortable and no longer awed, the generalplunged into his plan at once.

  “The town of Maletta,” he said, pointing to the map, “is really ourbottleneck. We’ve still got twenty miles to go to reach it. We can makethat twenty miles all right, but taking the town then is a tougher job.It’s at the head of a valley up which we’ll be fighting to reach it.There are German gun emplacements all along the hills on both sides ofthe valley. If we follow conventional tactics we can make it—but inabout two months. We’ll have to clean out all the hills on both sidesas we move forward. Oh—we can do it, but at a great cost of time and ofmen. We’ll take that time and use those men if we have to. But I don’tthink we’ll have to.”

  He paused and looked around at the faces of the men who hung on everyword he said. Then he turned to the map again.

  “As you can see, we can’t by-pass the valley and Maletta itself,” heexplained. “The country on either side of the valley is rugged and slowgoing, with bad roads and paths. We can get infantry around there—withmachine guns and mortars, but that’s about all. And even doing it fromboth sides, that wouldn’t be enough to take Maletta, with the heavyguns the Germans have there.”

  Lieutenant Scotti nodded his head without realizing it, seeing exactlywhat the general’s problem was.

  “Likewise a regular parachute action would be sure to fail,” the highofficer went on. “Even in great force you’d lack the necessary heavyguns. But six specially equipped paratroopers—they can do a real jobfor us!”

  He smiled at the men and they smiled back. They did not need to saythey were eager to take on this job. It showed plainly in their eyesand in their smiles.

  “The main job you are to do will come exactly one week from the timeyou arrive outside Maletta,” the general pointed out. “But you must getthere in advance and meanwhile do many valuable small jobs for us. Youcan get detailed information for us on the movement of German troops inand around Maletta—and trucks, tanks, guns, supplies. You see, we’llstart our push up the valley at once and we expect the Germans to pourtheir men into Maletta as a result. Right now they’re not sure we planon taking the road right straight ahead. As soon as they’re sure,they’ll put just about all they’ve got into the head of the valley.”

  The general turned with a pointer and showed them the lines ofrailroads and roads.

  “You can see that Maletta is an important hub, even though it isordinarily a town of only about ten thousand people. By the way—do anyof you men know Maletta?”

  Tony Avella raised his hand. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I know Malettapretty well. I’ve got an uncle who lives there—at least he _did_ livethere. I haven’t heard about him for some time, and he was no greatlover of Mussolini.”

  “Good for him!” said the general. “I hope he’s still there. If he is,he may be able to help us greatly. And he certainly can be thego-between in your relations with the Italian townspeople. There aren’tten thousand people there now, by any means, by the way. Most of thecivilians have been evacuated. The Germans have made the town into afortress. And there were no real factories there to keep any sizablepart of the population in the town to run them. According to ourinformation there are no more than fifteen hundred Italians left in andaround Maletta.”

  The general came back to the immediate plan for the six men on thespecial mission.

  “We’ll want reports, by radio, on troops and supplies into Maletta,” hesaid. “Where you can set up your short-wave radio will be your problem.And how to keep it from being found out by the German detectors is alsoyour problem, I’m afraid, and a tough one. But you’ll do it, I’m sure.”

  Tony shook his head wonderingly. He was glad the general had suchconfidence in them, but he knew how hard it was to keep a radio stationfrom being located almost immediately when there were detectorslistening at all times for underground or enemy stations. Still, theycould try! If the general needed it—well, they’d just have to give himwhat he wanted!

  “Finally, you are to be in sufficiently close touch with thetownspeople to warn them when you blow up the dam,” the general said.“And that’s a dangerous job, for there are still some ardent fascistsamong them, without a doubt, men who are working with the Germans. Notmany, I’m sure, but a few. If Corporal Avella’s uncle is still there,he’ll be able to let you know whom to avoid. But everybody else must bewarned—not too soon, but in time, to get to the hills when the damgoes, for
the waters will rush down and wipe out Maletta!”

  “Oh boy!” Dick Donnelly cried, without thinking. The general grinned athim.

  “You seem to like dams, Sergeant Donnelly,” he said.

  “I like the idea of really blowing one up,” Dick replied, “and washingaway a few thousand Germans, with their tanks, trucks, guns, andammunition!”

  “Could I ask a question, sir?” Scotti inquired.

  “Of course, Lieutenant Scotti,” the general answered. “I want you allto ask as many questions about this as you please.”

  “What about the flood waters when they reach our own troops?” Scottiasked.

  “I’ll show you,” the general replied. “Our men coming up the valleywill be here when the dam is blown up.” He pointed to a spot on the mapabout ten miles below the town. “As you see, the valley broadens here.The waters will be pretty low by this time, and they’ll channel chieflyinto these two river beds, leaving a ridge of high ground up the centerbetween them.”

  “But how can we attack the town, then?” Jerry asked.

  “We won’t attack it from the front, up the valley,” the generalreplied. “The flood will have silenced the big guns in the town itself,and for some distance behind it. We’ll have infantry pouring over thesides of the hills on both sides at that moment. You’ll recall I saidwe could filter plenty of men up the other sides of these hills, but noheavy guns. Well, with the German guns out of commission, they won’t behandicapped. They’ll be fighting German foot soldiers on an equalbasis, only the Germans will be racing like fury to get into the hillsaway from the flood waters, and they won’t be organized.”

  “I see, sir,” Lieutenant Scotti replied. “I knew there was an answer,of course, but wanted to be sure what it was.”

  “Naturally,” the general replied. “You can see it’s something like theWadizam Pass action. First comes our advance part way up the valley,drawing heavy German troop and supply movement into Maletta. Meanwhileother forces filter north along the other sides of the ridges,traveling chiefly at night to avoid detection. You men are in Maletta,reporting to us. You warn the Italians, blow up the dam and run for thehills, planning to meet our own men who’ll be coming over them at thattime.”

  Then the general asked for questions, and he answered them for half anhour until the six men felt that they knew every detail of the plan,every action that was expected of them.

  “One last thing,” the general said. “In getting into the town you mayfind that uniforms are attention-getters. But if you’re back of theenemy lines without uniforms you’re really spies and can be treated assuch by the enemy. In uniform, if captured, you will be prisoners ofwar. But that problem will have to be left up to you and LieutenantScotti, your commanding officer. You do whatever you think is necessaryand advisable, but you must be fully aware of the consequences. I haveno right to ask you to be spies, to take such a risk. This wholeventure is completely volunteer, anyway. Not a man of you needs toundertake it.”

  But every man _did_ want to undertake the job. They were delighted whenthe general said they would leave the following night. Then, afterhearty handshakes and good wishes from the general, the six men leftwith Major Marker. They jabbered excitedly all the way back to theirbase, but stopped entirely as soon as they were with their friends incamp. These men all knew that the six were going to do somethingspecial, but they could not get the slightest hint of what it was tobe. And they were the envy of the whole base. Only “Boom-Boom” Sladeseemed unexcited, unperturbed. He was interested chiefly in how muchdynamite they’d be able to have, and he spent every spare moment alonestudying the plans and photographs of the big dam which had been givenhim.

  “The spillway,” he murmured to himself happily. “That looks good forthe charge. It ought to be a pretty sight when it goes out!”

  The next day was a busy one for most of them. Tony Avella was goingover his radio equipment, the very finest short-wave set in the Army.It was put up in special containers for being dropped by parachute, butTony took them out and practiced setting everything up in a hurryseveral times. Sergeant Slade was going over his equipment, dynamite,detonator, wires, fuses. Lieutenant Scotti was checking supplies withDick Donnelly. They took plenty of canned rations, lengths of rope,blinker lights for emergency signaling, extra first-aid kits, blanketbeds, waterproof tarpaulins. They tried to think in advance of everycondition under which they might have to work, fight, and live.

  “We don’t want to load ourselves down,” Scotti said, “but we want tohave everything possible that we’ll really be likely to need. One extrasupply parachute won’t make much difference. We’ll set up headquartersin the hills to the east of the town—that’s the wildest countrythereabouts, and the safest. We might as well make ourselvescomfortable for a week’s stay, and conduct our forays into the townfrom the camp base in the hills.”

  “We might be able to move right into the town,” Dick suggested, “if theunderground is really helpful and trustworthy.”

  “Maybe so,” the lieutenant agreed. “But that will depend on whether theGermans suspect we’re anywhere around. I imagine as soon as Tony getshis radio going, even though our messages will be in code in Italian,they’ll suspect something and search the town thoroughly.”

  “How can we possibly set up the radio so they won’t find us?” Dickasked.

  “I don’t know,” Jerry replied with a smile. “That’s a really toughassignment. Of course, we plan to go on the air only twice a day andthen only for about three or four minutes. Maybe we can move it to adifferent place each time.”

  “But we couldn’t move it far enough to keep away from them,” Dick said.“They’ll search the whole area when they get a fix on that short-wavesending set. And we can’t have it near our base in the hills, orthey’ll be right up there after us.”

  “Yes—it would be best to have it somewhere in the town itself,” Scottisaid, “though right now I don’t see how it’s possible. Then the Germanswould just think it was an illegal Italian station. They wouldn’tnecessarily suspect that Americans were there.”

  “I guess we can’t figure that one out until we get there,” Dickconcluded.

  “No, that will have to wait,” the lieutenant agreed. “And how we’llmanage to blow up that dam I don’t know. It must be pretty wellguarded.”

  “Boom-Boom Slade can figure out something, I’ll bet,” Dick said. “Thatguy can manage to blow up anything if you really want it blown up!”

  At nine o’clock that evening everything was ready. The six men reportedto Major Marker, who took them at once to the big car. Without lightsthey drove over the roads of southern Italy for an hour, eventuallyreaching a small airfield. They had no idea where they might be, asthey had gone through no towns.

  On the field, a big transport waited in the darkness, its two enginesidling. First, the equipment was placed in the plane, and then the menclimbed aboard. Before the door closed, Scotti and Dick Donnelly waveda last farewell to Major Marker, who seemed no more than a shadow onthe ground below.

  “Happy landings!” came his voice over the sound of the motors, and thenthey closed the door. Scotti nodded to the pilot in the cockpit and theplane picked up speed. In a minute more its wheels had left the groundand they were in the air, on their way to the most dangerousundertaking any of them had ever faced.