CHAPTER VI
FIRING SQUAD
The three Yanks seated themselves on a rough bench in their cell. Thetwo Italian prisoners looked them over without interest, then went backto their own talk, which they were carrying on in whispers. Every oncein a while they shot glances at the boys as though fearing they weretrying to hear what was being said.
"Suspicious chaps, what?" Allison said, amused.
"Wonder what they were thrown in for?" Stan mused.
"Sure, an' it matters very little. What happens to Mrs. O'Malley's boyis what's worryin' me," O'Malley broke in. "Ivery window is fastened astight as the purse o' a Scotsman an' the door is well guarded."
"They'll be coming after us very soon," Stan said. "They'll question usone at a time."
"You'd best act as commander," O'Malley said. "I might plant a fist onthe nose o' one o' their generals."
"I say, that's a fine idea," Allison agreed. "Stan, you are in command."
It was natural for them to turn to Stan. He had always been the mostlevel-headed of the three in tight spots. He grinned at them.
"We'll see who they pick," he answered. "But we don't talk."
A few minutes later the junior officer who spoke English appeared. Heshoved past the guard and stood at the barred door. The two Italianprisoners stopped talking at once. The boys did not get up from theirbench. They returned the stare of the officer. His eyes moved over themand paused on Stan.
"Are you in command?"
"I am in command," Stan answered.
"Come with me. The colonel is very reasonable. If you are not pig-headedyou may be treated as prisoners of war."
Stan got to his feet. One of the Italians had risen. He looked at Stanclosely. Suddenly Stan turned back to his pals and bent close to them.In a whisper he said:
"Be careful. I just got the idea those Italians may be planted in hereto listen to what we say."
"Come on, you," the officer snapped.
Stan moved to the iron grating. Pulling a bunch of keys out of the sidepocket of his tunic, the guard unlocked the door. Stan stepped out on anarrow walk which led to a row of doors. The officer marched stiffly athis side. At a glance Stan saw that the place was well guarded. Not lessthan a dozen men with rifles were spotted within sight of the guardhouseand of the buildings grouped around it.
"You will do well to answer all questions truthfully and in detail.Colonel Kittle is a man of action." The officer gave decided emphasis tothe last words.
Stan did not reply. They were entering a big room with wall cabinets anda desk. Chairs ringed the desk on which lay various trophies and gadgetssuch as might have decorated the room of any flight lieutenant. Stanspotted a piece out of a Hurricane fighter. There was an American Coltforty-five automatic and a Russian helmet.
Behind the desk sat the tall officer with the saber scar across hischeek. Stan sized him up as a Prussian military man of the old school.Now that he had a good chance to look at the colonel he saw that the manwas hollow-eyed, his skin was drawn tightly over his cheekbones, and hisshort, cropped hair was streaked with gray. Stan snapped a salute, notknowing exactly why he did it.
The colonel returned the salute and waved a bony hand toward a chair.Stan seated himself. The officer went on regarding him intently. Thejunior officer seated himself beside Stan and waited. Finally thecolonel spoke in German. The young officer frowned, then begantranslating.
"The colonel wishes to compliment you. The Americans have done very wellin Africa."
"Thanks," Stan answered warily.
"He sees no reason why you should not be classed as a prisoner of war."The young officer's lip curled. He turned to the colonel and waited.
The colonel spoke for some little time. When he stopped talking theyoung lieutenant faced Stan.
"We wish to know the approximate number of fighter and bomber craftbased upon Africa. It would be helpful if you could add informationregarding additional troops moved in to assist in the action againstItaly."
Stan smiled. "My compliments to the colonel. Tell him I am not atliberty to give such information."
The officer scowled. He translated and the colonel smiled back at Stan.
"That will be all," the young officer snapped. It was plain the youngofficer did not like the way his commander was handling matters.
Stan was marched back to his cell. The young officer hurried away. Whenhe was out of hearing, Stan spoke in low tones to his pals. He nownoticed that the Italians seemed interested and were trying to listen.
"The old boy with the scar is commander. He's a Prussian officer of theold school and does not think much of the Nazi methods. He seems to haveconvinced himself that we are really officers and told the truth aboutour clothes."
"I'll get more dope," Allison said. "I can understand their talk."
A few minutes later the young officer returned and took Allison to theoffice. O'Malley and Stan sat waiting for his return. The Italians satwith their backs against the wall in silence. Fifteen minutes passed andthen Allison returned. The boys went into a huddle.
"The colonel is not in favor of using the third degree on us. He says hehas reports on us from the Italians and knows we are prisoners of war.He said all this in German. The young lieutenant seems to be in with theGestapo. I gathered that they hate each other." Allison paused andgrinned. "The old boy told him off plenty, but the kid is stubborn. He'sgoing over the head of the colonel, so we may have trouble."
"Sure, an' I'll bet the colonel can get tough, just the same," O'Malleycut in.
"Yes, he's as hard as nails but he has the old rules well trained intohim. He'll do whatever the big shots order. Guess who the big boy inItaly is."
"Couldn't make a stab," Stan said.
"Rommel himself. He's to keep us from breaching the continent. Rememberhow Herr Goebbels has been shouting that the Allies could never breakinto the European fortress? Well Rommel is going to see that we don'tcrack through." Allison laughed softly.
"Sure, an' we'll give 'em the same pastin' we gave him in Africa,"O'Malley growled.
An hour passed and O'Malley was not called in. Supper of bread and thinsoup arrived and with it came the Gestapo officer. He seated himself ona stool outside the bars and talked while the boys ate. O'Malley lookedat the food, then turned to the officer.
"'Tis not fit for a hog, this food."
"That's why you are getting it," the officer said and laughed loudly.
"We are entitled to decent rations," Stan said.
"What does it matter about the rations? I have just talked by radio toheadquarters. Unless you give us the information we want, you will beshot. I have the order with me." He leered at the boys triumphantly.
"Pleasant sort of folks, you Nazis," Allison drawled.
"I will attend to the execution myself, tomorrow morning. You will havetonight to think things over." He got to his feet and kicked aside thestool.
Stan finished his tin of soup and stood up. He walked to the barreddoor. The guard swung around and made a menacing motion with his rifle.Stan grinned at him and stepped back. He was convinced the Gestapoofficer had told the guards to shoot on the least provocation, he couldread it in the man's eyes.
"Be careful," he said as he seated himself again. "The guards have beentold to get rid of us if they can find any excuse."
"I'd as soon be shot by a guard as a firing squad," Allison said.
"We might get the fellow up near the bars and get his keys," Stan said.
"Good idea," O'Malley agreed. "But how?"
"We'll get over near the door and start to whisper with our backs tohim. See if we can tease him up close," Stan suggested.
They moved over near the grating and began whispering. The guard stoodwatching them. He was a full ten feet from the door and did not move.His expressionless, beefy face showed not a flicker of interest. Finallythe boys gave it up.
"He has about as much curiosity as a turtle," Stan said sourly.
"Sure, an' they may put on a guard
with a brain," O'Malley saidhopefully.
They sat down and tried to think up another scheme. At midnight theguard was changed and they tried their trick on the new man. He was lessinterested than the first one. He turned his back on them and let themwhisper. The boys gave it up and sat down to wait.
They dozed off after a time. O'Malley stretched out on the floor andwent to sleep. Stan and Allison remained on the bench, leaning backagainst the wall. The clatter of trucks and shouting of soldiers wakenedthem. Daylight was breaking and the camp seemed to be getting set forsome sort of action. Presently the young officer appeared. He glared atthe three Yanks.
"Are you ready to talk?" he demanded.
"No," Stan answered. The others shook their heads.
"In that case I will waste no time. You will be shot within the hour."He turned to the Italian prisoners and spoke in German to one of them.His words were harsh and his attitude showed he had no respect for themen.
One of the prisoners answered in German. His words were angry and hewas defiant. Suddenly Allison stepped forward.
"I say, old man," he addressed the officer. "I've changed my mind. Thereis some information I could give the colonel."
"Come along then," the officer snapped. He shot a few words at theItalians as he motioned for the guard to open the door.
Stan grabbed Allison's arm. "You can't do it, fellow," he said.
Allison turned on him. "You may want to die and become a hero, but I'drather be a live war prisoner. I say, get your hands off me."
Stan started to pull Allison back. With a quick movement Allison planteda fist on Stan's jaw. It was a hard right cross and set Stan back on hisheels.
The officer laughed loudly. "Now you are acting quite as you should, youswine."
"Let me get a crack at him," O'Malley howled. "The traitor!"
He was blocked by the bayonet of the guard. Allison walked out of thecell. He paused and looked back. There was a mocking leer on his lips.
"Good-by, saps," he said.
Stan slumped down on the bench. O'Malley marched up and down fuming andranting. Twenty minutes passed and a soldier came to the cell. Heescorted the Italians out of the room. Stan got to his feet and walkedto the door. He was attracted by marching feet on the gravel outside.
Looking out he saw a squad of men with rifles. The squad leader haltedthem and faced them toward a wall. Their rifle butts hit the gravel andthey stood rigid, with their backs to the cell door. Stan noticed thatmortar had been knocked from the surface of the wall. He could see manysplattered places and many bullet holes in that wall. Turning around helooked at O'Malley, who had seated himself.
"The reception committee has arrived," he said calmly.
O'Malley got to his feet and walked to the door. In silence they stoodlooking out at their executioners. The squad leader was looking theirway. He seemed eager to get at the business he had to perform.
Two officers appeared and halted before the squad leader. He saluted andthe three talked briefly. The officers turned toward the guardhouse.They spoke to the guard and he produced his keys. The door was openedand one of the officers spoke in broken English.
"Come now."
Stan and O'Malley walked out of the room. One of the officers producedtwo strips of cloth and held them out. Stan shook his head.
"No blindfold for me," he said evenly.
"Get them rags away," O'Malley growled. "I'll be lookin' ye in the eye,ye spalpeens."
Walking between the two officers, they marched out across the groundstoward the wall. Reaching it, they faced the men with rifles at rest.
"Get it over with," Stan snapped.
"Sure, an' I'll bet Allison will be sorry he isn't here," O'Malley saidgloomily.
The officers moved back and took up positions beside the firing squad.Suddenly a jangle of angry and excited voices broke loose from thedirection of the colonel's quarters. A door burst open and a big fat manplunged out upon the parade ground.
"General Bolero!" Stan gasped.
It was General Bolero and he was red-faced with anger. Behind him cameColonel Kittle, the Gestapo officer, the two Italian prisoners, andAllison. The general charged across the grounds and halted before thetwo officers in charge of the firing squad. He jumped up and down andshouted, waving his arms wildly all the time. Colonel Kittle came up andhalted. He snapped an order to the officers.
The Gestapo officer was shouting loudly, but he was no match for thegeneral, who bellowed so loudly that the medals on his chest danced upand down.
The firing squad suddenly came to life. They shouldered their rifles,about-faced, and marched away. Stan and O'Malley walked over to thegroup.
The general ceased shouting and looked at the two Yank airmen. He puffedout his cheeks and said:
"A thousand apologies, gentlemen. I am ashamed. Italy is shamed. Thiscould not be." He faced the colonel. "These are my prisoners, Colonel. Iam taking them with me."
Colonel Kittle saluted and nodded. The Gestapo officer whirled and racedaway.
"We will go quickly," the general said to the boys, "before the sucklingpig receives more orders from his superiors." He bowed deeply to thecolonel and faced about.
"I have given our promise to go with him," Allison said. "It was theonly way to save your necks."
They marched away beside the general. Beyond the buildings they came toa big car with an army driver. General Bolero himself opened the door,and the boys seated themselves in the rear seat. The general climbed inthe front seat with his driver. He sat very stiffly but every once in awhile he sputtered like the fuse on a firecracker.
The car rolled up a shady road, past many guards, and on into a widehighway. Stan turned to Allison.
"How did you work it?" he asked.
"I heard one of those Italian prisoners say he demanded to see GeneralBolero. The officer told him Bolero was in Colonel Kittle's office. Ithought there might be a slim chance if I could get to the general, so Ipretended to be ready to turn traitor." Allison chuckled. "You shouldhave seen the general," he lowered his voice, "when I told him we wereto be shot as spies."
"He's a good egg, but for how long did you give our parole?" Stan asked.He was worried because a military parole is something a soldier does notbreak.
"Thirty days," Allison replied. "It was the best deal I could make."
"Thirty days!" Stan repeated. "Italy will be captured by that time andwe'll miss the show."
Allison grinned. "You know, I got the idea the general figured Italywould be out of the war by then."
"'Tis the first time I iver promised to stay in jail," O'Malley saidsadly. "But after lookin' down the barrels o' them Nazi rifles, I'm notkickin' on the bargain."
"Yes, we'd have missed all of the show if Allison hadn't outsmarted thatGestapo officer," Stan agreed.