CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Ben watched calmly as yet another German patrol passed by his hiding place. Tim was to his right, also well hidden. Tecal and his men were still out in the jungle around them. With German patrols in all directions, Ben continued to have a view of the hatch. As the patrol moved away, several shots rang out to Ben’s left. It must be Tecal, thought Ben. Quickly there was return fire sounding like the German weapons they heard previously. Tecal’s men most likely were ambushing the Germans while staying out of direct confrontations.
Tecal’s men were similar to the forces of The Swamp Fox, Francis Marion. Marion was the Revolutionary War officer who led the militia back in Ben’s home state of South Carolina. His forces refused to line up as conventional forces did in European wars where the opposing forces lined up and took turns firing at each line until one side broke and ran. Marion’s men instead hid in the forests and pounced upon the redcoats as they passed on roads and trails in the woods. So unconventional were his ways, British officers complained he was not fighting fairly, as if war was fair.
Ben removed his silencer from his weapon. He motioned for Tim to do the same. Immediately there was a rustling in the underbrush behind him. Ben raised his HK MP-5 submachine gun, moved the firing selector to automatic and waited. Five seconds later a German stepped into view not five feet from Ben. Ben looked the German in the eye and squeezed the trigger. The noise of the weapon was loud and the result fatal. The quick burst of the MP-5 sent five bullets into the German, ripping open his chest. He fell immediately. Thinking there may be a trailer, Ben remained alert. Ben jerked his head around as Tim fired a short burst and took down another German just off to their left. That was the trailing one, Ben surmised. Thankfully the two bodies fell into the underbrush and were virtually hidden. Tim crawled over to Ben.
“That was close,” Tim whispered.
“Too damn close,” answered Ben. “Those bastards are all over the map. We really stirred up a hornet’s nest this time but we are doing our job, causing a diversion. I hope Dane and Hugo are having better luck.”
“Have you heard anything from them?” asked Tim, his eyes still on the surrounding brush.
“No. I’m getting worried. It’s been several hours. They are either very successful or dead.”
“Damn,” sighed Tim.
More gunfire broke out further out to their left. They could hear cries of pain and then more gunfire.
“Any action with the hatch?” asked Tim.
“No,” answered Ben. “We must assume Dane and Hugo are okay. It would help if we could take some heat off of them.”
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. What say we hit the hatch and stir up some action,” said Tim.
After quickly checking their arms and ammo, Ben and Tim crawled their way toward the hatch and the bunker beside it. Now within twelve feet of the bunker, Ben flashed a thumbs-up sign to Tim and ran the last few feet to the empty bunker. Ben settled down inside aiming his weapon out of the front opening covering Tim. Within seconds Tim burst over the edge of the bunker and climbed in.
“So far so good,” reported Tim. “Cover me while I check the hatch.” Tim pulled a hand grenade out of his vest pocket and hung it on the outside of his vest. “I always wanted to do that again,” he grinned. “Just like my old military days.
Tim crawled from the bunker and moved the ten feet over to the hatch. He looked for a latch of some kind and found it on the back side of the hatch. He tried to open it. It wouldn’t budge. He reached back into his vest and extracted a small 3-by-3 inch cube of C-4 plastic explosive.
Deep inside the fortress, another alarm screamed. The outside sensors deployed earlier detected someone. That someone was Tim.
“Alarm at Hatch 0-122! The intruders are entering Hatch 0-122!” cried the technician on duty. The security supervisor bolted into the control center from his office.
“Report,” he ordered.
“I record multiple sensor alarms at Hatch 0-122,” the tech said calmly after settling his nerves a bit. “Several sensors around the hatch are detecting movement; possibly persons out there.”
The supervisor picked up the phone and called Maas’ office. Delper answered quickly. “We have multiple sensor alarms at Hatch 0-122.”
“Understood,” answered Delper. “I will inform Maas myself. Keep me apprised of the situation.” Delper hung up the phone and re-dialed the number down in the sub-basement. After ten rings he realized no one was answering the telephone. He turned and motioned to an orderly standing over beside a file cabinet. “Go down to the sub-basement and tell Captain Maas we have intruders coming in through Hatch 0-122. Go now!”
The orderly scampered off down the hall toward the elevator. Delper stood there staring at the map on the wall. He wondered if this was the beginning of the end both for himself and the fortress.
Each man carried several small cubes for heavy duty demolition as needed. Tim took the C-4 out of the wrapping paper and pressed the putty into the crack under the hatch lock. Once happy with the placement, Tim pulled out a detonator and small timer and connected the two. He checked the connection, set the fuse for twenty seconds and implanted the detonator into the C-4. Another quick check and he tripped the timer and leaped up and ran over to the bunker.
“Fire in the hole,” he said to Ben as they both ducked their heads. There was a medium-sized explosion and it was all over. Both Ben and Tim jumped from the bunker and ran over to the hatch, now lying about three feet from the opening in the ground. Ben peered in to see a small room painted white with a ladder leading down. He looked at Tim. “Your honors… ”
Tim stepped up to the hatch and looked inside. Seeing no one, he scrambled down the ladder and stood beside the door leading from the room. He turned and looked back for Ben. That’s when he noticed a small red light flashing in the corner of the room.
“Ben, looks like there is an alarm. We are going to have company very soon,” said Tim, watching Ben descend the ladder. The two stood together for a second as Ben nodded to Tim. Tim opened the door leading to a hallway. He looked out and immediately met with a hail of gunfire. He jerked his head back in.
“Holy shit!” he exclaimed turning to Ben. “Change that… we have company.”
The continuous fire sent bullets and fragments bouncing off the walls and smacking into the door frame. Both Tim and Ben plastered themselves against the wall trying to avoid being hit. Tim took the grenade from his vest front and pulled the pin. He held on to the spoon.
“Which way is the fire coming from?” he asked Ben.
“Both ways,” answered Ben. Tim reached into his vest again and produced another grenade and pulled its pin. With both grenades armed, Tim waited for the inevitable lull in fire and stepped into the doorway. He released the two spoons, waited a second and threw a grenade in both directions. As he twirled around back into the inside wall, two loud explosions ripped through the hallway. There was concrete dust high and low. Both Tim and Ben heard moaning as they stepped into the hallway, one to the right and one to the left. The two aimed their weapons ahead and moved down the hall. Ben noticed the same room numbers Dane and Hugo reported. They were printed in German.
The hall to the right ended several feet down from the hatch room. Tim saw four dead Germans lying behind a short, quickly built sandbag wall. He checked to see all were dead and turned and gave Ben an all-clear call.
“Clear,” chirped Tim.