CHAPTER SEVEN
NOT SO HAPPY LANDINGS
It was a short trip. Their base was not far behind the front linesbelow Maletta, and the field to which they had gone was only a fewmiles further south and—they guessed—some distance to the east.
“The Air Forces are sending up some bombers for a little diversion,”Scotti said to the men around him. “They’ll pull the German fighterstrength and ack-ack fire to the railroad bridges northwest of thetown. And they’ll fill the air with plenty of sound for the Germansound detectors, so that they’re likely to miss the sound of our plane.We’ll fly low so that the plane can’t easily be seen above the hillsbeyond us.”
“Never landed at night before,” Dick Donnelly said, “except on flatdesert land.”
“It’s tricky, all right,” Scotti said, “when there are hills and treesbelow. And there’s no moon to see by tonight. That’s good from oneangle because we can’t be seen easily either. But you can’t tell whereyou’re coming down. Maybe some of us will spend the night caught insome treetops.”
Tony Avella shrugged his shoulders. “It’s all in the game,” he said.“We’ll make out all right.”
The others nodded without speaking, and there was silence in the plane.Five minutes passed this way before the co-pilot stepped back to sayquietly, “This is it.”
The men stood up at once, and the fuselage door was thrown open. TonyAvella and Dick Donnelly heaved out the two parachutes carrying theradio equipment, and Tony followed immediately, as if he could not beparted from them for more than a few seconds.
“Go ahead, Dick,” Scotti said, and the sergeant leaped without a word.Then the lieutenant helped Slade and Vince Salamone throw out the fourparachutes bearing the containers of dynamite and demolition equipment.
“Right after it, Slade,” Scotti said. “Each man finds his own stuff.Vince will find you and help you with it.”
Little Slade closed his eyes and his face was pale. It still seemedalmost to kill him to make a parachute leap but he never said a wordabout it. He was hardly out the door when the huge bulk of Salamonewent after him.
Now only Max Burckhardt and Scotti were left. Together they tossed outthe three remaining supply parachutes.
“See you later, Max,” the lieutenant said. “Everybody will head easttoward me, you know. But we may not get together until daylight.”
With a grin, Max jumped. Scotti turned and waved to the plane’sco-pilot, then stepped into space shouting “Geronimo!” It always seemeda little strange to him to call out his own first name when he jumped.But he didn’t smile about it tonight. Jumping in the darkness was nolight-hearted task, and the week ahead of them was filled withresponsibilities such as he had never shouldered before.
“Most of the others are down by now,” he said to himself. “Hope they’renot in trouble.”
He tried to look below, but there was nothing but blackness, just alittle blacker than the sky around him. In the skies to the northwesthe saw the bursts of antiaircraft fire from the German batteries,trying to find the American bombers that were coming over the railroadtracks. Searchlights stabbed the sky, cutting sharp white lines in theblackness, and Scotti was glad, despite his wish for a little light,that they were not searching for him.
Tony Avella was on the ground already. He, who seemed worried the leastabout landing on a wooded hillside at night, had no trouble at all. Hecame down in a little clearing, hit the ground with a hard jolt becausehe was not expecting it quite so soon, and rolled down the slope aboutten feet. His ’chute had collapsed of its own accord and he slipped outof the harness quickly. Then he set about trying in the darkness tofind his two containers of radio material.
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_Jumping in the Darkness Was No Lighthearted Task_]
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“Probably can’t locate a thing at night,” he muttered to himself, “butthink of the time I can save if I find even one of them. Dick was rightbehind me. Wonder if he made out okay.”
Dick Donnelly did not have the luck of Tony. At that moment he washanging head down in a tree. One leg was over a heavy branch, and his’chute shroud lines were caught far above. His face and hands werebadly scratched by the branches as he had plunged into them, but he wasnot worried about such minor trifles. He was struggling to pull himselfup to a sitting position on the branch. Every time he tried, his shroudlines seemed to tug him in the other direction. Finally, however, hesucceeded in getting the other leg over the branch. Then he snaked hispocket knife from his trousers and reached back to cut the shroud lineswhich held him.
When he had cut through four of them, he felt the pull lessen and foundhe could pull himself up on the branch. For a few moments he sat there,waiting for his head to stop swimming as the blood receded from it.Finally, he cut the rest of his parachute lines and was free.
“Can’t leave that ’chute up there,” he said. “It might be spotted frombelow in the morning, and certainly a German plane would see it beforelong.”
Tug as he might, however, he could not get it free. Making up his mindthat he’d have to free it by the first light of dawn, he felt for thetree trunk, found it, and began to let himself down. His eyes were moreaccustomed to the darkness now, and he could vaguely see the branchesas he stepped down from one to the other. Then the ground loomed upabout ten feet below, and he let himself drop. He rolled over once,then brought himself up to a sitting position.
“Now what?” he asked himself. “Just sit here, I guess. If I leave thistree I may get lost and not find it again to get that parachute.”
So he edged his way back a couple of feet until his back rested againstthe trunk of the tree in which he had fallen. He moved a rock beneathone leg, and then relaxed completely, his head back against the tree.Far off he heard the roaring thud of bombs dropped by American bombers,and he smiled.
“Wish I could locate Tony,” he said to himself. “We went out so closetogether he can’t be far away. Hm—that reminds me—Tony asked ifsometime when we were out alone at night I wouldn’t sing _Celeste Aïda_for him. Well, I’d do it if he were here now. But it’s been so longsince I’ve sung. Haven’t even thought much about singing.”
Hardly realizing what he was doing he began to hum aloud the slow,ascending first notes of the famous tenor aria from the Verdi opera. Bythe time he reached the third phrase, he was singing the words, and itfelt good. It still sounded all right. He kept on, letting his voiceout more and more, pulling himself to his feet finally so that he couldsing in full voice. Only when he had come to the end, did he realizethat he had perhaps done a foolish thing, singing so loudly there inthe hills behind the enemy lines.
Then he heard a soft clapping of hands and the word “Bravo!” He jumpedand looked into the darkness from which the sound came. “Bravo, RicardoDonnelli!” the voice said again, and Dick knew who it was as he madeout the advancing figure.
“Tony!” he cried. “You startled me!”
“Sorry,” the radioman said, as he came close. “But that’s nothing towhat you would have done to any German soldier within half a mile!”
“I know—I didn’t realize,” Dick said. “I got to humming when Iremembered you wanted me to sing it for you sometime when we were alonein the hills at night. And then, first thing I knew, I was reallysinging it.”
“I was kidding,” Tony said. “In the first place I’m quite sure thereisn’t a German within half a mile. And if there were, he’d just thinkit was an Italian out singing in the night. You didn’t sound at alllike the German idea of an American soldier. You sounded swell,incidentally. I could close my eyes and see the whole scene on thestage at the Met.”
“Well, we’re a long way from there,” Dick said. “And I’m a long wayfrom doing any singing again.”
“Gee, I was just thinking,” Tony said. “In Maletta, they used
to have apretty fair little opera company. Maybe it’s not going now, though theItalians have kept up their opera performances under the worstconditions. That’s about the last thing they’ll give up. Wouldn’t thisMaletta Opera group love to have you as a guest star for a performanceor two!”
“Yes, and the Germans would applaud vigorously, too, I’ll bet,” Dicklaughed. “How’d you make out in your landing, by the way?”
“Neat!” Tony replied. “Right in a clearing. I went crawling aroundlooking for my radio but couldn’t find anything. Then I heard yousinging and came this way.”
“I wound up head down in this tree here,” Dick said. “Had to cut myselfout of my ’chute. Couldn’t get it out of the tree, though. I’ll have todo it when it first gets light. No use waving a signal flag like thatat the Germans to let them know we’re here.”
“Well, we can’t do anything until it does get light,” Tony said. “Solet’s sit down.”
They sat on the ground and leaned against the trunk of the tree. Thenthey talked for a while, as the sound of bombing and antiaircraft firenorthwest of Maletta died out. Finally they both fell into a lightsleep.
It was still dark when Dick woke up, but not as black as it had beenwhen they landed the night before. Somewhere to the east, the firstrays of the sun were climbing the hills, and a hazy grayness was thefirst notice of their advance. Dick realized that his neck was so stiffhe could hardly turn it, and then he knew that one foot was asleep.
“Dick—awake?” It was Tony’s voice beside him.
“Sure—just woke up,” Dick replied. “But I don’t know if I can move. Myneck feels as if it would snap in two if I tried to turn it.”
“Same here,” Tony said. “But I think it’s going to begin getting lightbefore long. We might be able to get something done.”
“I know it,” Dick agreed. “The Germans might have planes going overpretty early and I don’t want them to spot any ’chutes.”
With an effort he got to his feet, wagging his head from side to sidewhile he grimaced with the pain. Then he stamped his sleeping foot onthe hard earth while it tingled to life. He turned and looked at TonyAvella, who was going through the same thing.
“Do I look as groggy as you do, Tony?” he laughed.
“If you look as groggy as I feel,” Tony answered, “you’re pretty bad. Ican’t see without a fuzziness over everything.”
But in a few minutes they were awake. Together they scrambled up thebig tree and got Dick’s parachute untangled from the branches. Wrappingit up in a bundle with the harness, Dick slung it over his shoulder.
“Don’t want to leave any evidence like this around,” he said, followingTony off through the trees to help him find his things.
Tony’s ’chute was only about fifty yards from the tree in which Dickhad landed. They stowed the two parachutes together and then walkedsouth searching for the two radio ’chutes. They found the first onealmost at once. It was caught on an overhanging rock over a sheer dropof about thirty feet to a stone ledge below.
“Glad I didn’t land there,” Tony commented, as he crawled up the rockto the ’chute. There he tugged the shroud lines so that the container,which was hanging free in the air, swung over close to Dick, who caughtit and cut it loose. Then Tony retrieved the colored ’chute and theycontinued the search for the other one.
It took them ten minutes to find it, and by that time dawn had reallycome. The birds in the trees were chirping and flitting about but noother sound came to them. When they had gathered everything together,they set out to find the others of their party.
“Must be about three-quarters of a mile,” Dick said. “No matter howfast they went out of the ship they’d be spread over that muchterritory. We can start whistling pretty soon.”
After a hundred steps through the trees, heading northward parallelwith the ridge of the hill above them, they began alternately to givepoor imitations of bird calls. But the birds themselves were singing sovigorously, as if they did not realize a war was going on, that the twoAmericans began to wonder if their calls would be heard. In a fewminutes, however, they heard a call like their own.
“That’s no bird,” Tony said. “Only Vince Salamone could make a soundlike that.”
They hurried down to the left, from which the whistle had come, luggingtheir heavy containers with them. They saw Vince Salamone and“Boom-Boom” Slade sitting on their equipment under a tree. Vince wasworking so hard at whistling that he could not hear the replies whichDick and Tony were giving him. And Slade was pursing up his lipsrepeatedly without a single sound coming out. The demolition expertcould not whistle a note!
Dick called out when they were close, and the two men jumped to theirfeet. Happy to learn that neither one had been hurt in his landing,Dick checked over the equipment to be sure it was all there.
“Right—three containers and five ’chutes!” he said. “Let’s go.”
Dick led the way as they went forward to the north again. It was hardwalking, for the hill was steeper, and ahead Dick could make out anoutcropping of rock that rose straight up for about twenty-five feet.He began to whistle once more, looking for either Max Burckhardt orJerry Scotti. After a few minutes he heard an answering whistle andstopped.
“Where’s that coming from?” Dick asked, puzzled. The whistle seemed tobe ahead of them, but just where was not certain. So they walkedforward more steps, whistled again, and heard a reply. Then they hearda voice.
“Dick! Dick! I’m up here!”
They all looked up. There, leaning over a rocky ledge far above them,was Max Burckhardt.
“Max! How did you get up there?” Dick called back, not too loudly.
“How do you think?” Max demanded angrily. “I landed here, of course!”
“On that little ledge?” Tony asked. “How big is it?”
“About eight feet square,” Max replied. “And there’s not a way to getoff it. Sheer rock up above and straight drop below. Not a footholdanywhere. I feel silly as the devil perched up here with no way to getdown.”
“You may feel silly,” Dick answered, “but you’re really lucky as thedevil. You might have been knocked senseless against this cliff by your’chute.”
“Don’t I know it!” Max called back.
“Where’s your ’chute?” Dick asked.
“Here!” Max replied. “I sort of sensed I was on the edge of somethingand I pulled it in fast. It was trying to pull me right off. Toss me upa good rope. There’s a rock up here I can fasten it on.”
Dick quickly opened one of the supply containers and found a goodlength of rope. It took half a dozen tries to get one end of it up toMax, but soon he had it looped over the rock. He tossed one end downagain.
“With both ends down there,” he explained, “we can get it free fromthis jutting rock and take it along with us. Hold it taut for me and itwon’t come loose.”
Max tossed his ’chute over to them, and then Dick and Vince Salamonebore down on the ends of the rope. Soon Max slid over the edge and camehand-over-hand down to the ground.
“Boy, am I glad to see you guys!” he exclaimed. “I was beginning tofeel that I’d be up there for the duration.”
Gathering everything together again, they went in search of the othersupply containers and within another ten minutes had found them intact.
“Now to find Jerry,” Dick said. “He can’t be far.”
“I know it,” Max said. “I’ve been wondering. I would have thought hemight come back a bit looking for me, and I certainly think he wouldhave looked around for the last supply ’chutes. He was jumping rightafter them.”
They stopped and whistled. There was no answer. Then they moved forwarda short distance and whistled again. Still no reply came to them. Dickclimbed up the hill a little farther and called out to the others. Hehad found the entrance to a cave. It was well sheltered and not veryobvious, and inside it was like a large square room. But they found noLieutenant Scotti inside, nor any sign that a human had been in theplace
for a long time.
“This will make a swell base,” Dick said, “as soon as we find Jerry.Let’s stow all our stuff here and fan out to look for him.”
Quickly they put their supplies and equipment well back in the dry caveand then started out in different directions from the cave entrance. Itwas Dick who first heard the groan, coming from behind a huge, jaggedboulder. He raced around it quickly, whistling the signal franticallyas he went.
There at the bottom of the boulder lay Lieutenant Scotti. His face wascovered with blood, and his right leg was twisted under him in a waythat told Dick immediately that it was broken.
Dick Donnelly of the Paratroops Page 7
