I held one of the rifles in both hands, and for an odd minute I was back in Laos, and then the moment was gone before I could analyze it. I wondered if I could still take the thing apart and put it back together in the required time span, and then I wondered how important that sort of talent was nowadays, and then I turned the thoughts off and went to watch the loading operation.
They could never have worked as well when they were getting paid by the hour. One truck after another was maneuvered into position and its contents systematically transferred to the cavernous van. The crates were marked in code, so I could only guess at the scientific marvels they contained. Gas grenades, botulism cultures, nuclear mortar shells, all the rest. Science marches on, and man’s reach keeps exceeding his grasp. I wondered how many varieties of nerve gas the van held. Properly deployed, I thought, the contents of Sprague’s van could probably wipe out most of the country. Of course no one could use it all that efficiently—
They finished the third truck, backed it out and away. The kid with the sideburns swung the Amarillo truck around and brought it into position. Everybody got into the act, and I got out of the way and went over to see how George was doing.
He had them sitting down in the snow, eight of them. He was on his haunches facing them, with the submachine gun on his knees. He asked how it was going. I told him they had already cracked the last truck.
“The guards?”
“I moved them on over to the other side.”
“How are they?”
“Still unconscious,” I said.
“Good.” He grinned. “How does it feel to be back in action?”
“It doesn’t feel.”
“Huh?”
I told him to forget it. One of the men was raising his hand. It was the PFC who had wanted to try running the trucks across the field. I thought for a minute that he wanted to go to the toilet.
George asked him what he wanted.
“I want to get out of here alive,” he said.
“You will.”
“I don’t want to be a hero, sir.” He paused for a moment, as if wondering whether or not he was supposed to call us sir. “None of us, uh, want to be heroes. I don’t know what this is all about, sir, and I, uh, don’t want to know. That’s all, sir.”
He was very young. I looked at the rest of them and realized that they were all very young. The four hard-noses in the Amarillo truck had been older. This figured — if you were picking a man to start blasting with an automatic rifle, you chose someone whose experience wasn’t limited to the target range. But any clown could sit in a truck.
“Just do as you’re told,” I told him. I looked around at the rest of them. “You’ll all get out of this alive.”
They digested this. Then another one had a question, and George nodded at him. I suppose it made sense to keep them talking, I don’t know.
“Sir, what Major Walker said before. About us being dupes?”
Oh, they were that, all right.
“In a Commie conspiracy. I don’t know what it’s all about, but I suppose Majors Bourke and O’Hara were Red agents? Who infiltrated the military? And planned to ship the cargo to subversives?”
He got O’Gara’s name wrong, but the rest sounded good enough. Give a man paper and pencil and he’ll write out your lie for you and believe it when you read it back to him.
I let George pick it up. “Good thinking, soldier,” he said. “You’ve got the right idea, but I’m afraid it’s more complicated than you think—”
I stood up. He didn’t need me there, and I didn’t want to hear the rest of it. I got the radio from the Ford and put through a call to Central. The clown on the other end said he’d been trying to reach me, so maybe it was just as well that I had called.
I said, “Camelback Leader to Control. Camelback Leader to Control. I cannot read you. Repeat, I cannot read you. Over.”
He came back loud and clear.
After a minute I said, “Camelback Leader to Control, I’ve got your signal but you’re not clear. Repeat, I’ve blip gurgle but you’re not gurgle gurgle snap. Please grunt gurgle. Over.”
He came back again, and I cut in on him. “Control, this is Camelback Leader. We’re losing reception all gurgle place. We’re on schedule and everything’s fine but this gurgle radio. Too much weather. We’ll gurgle snap gurgle gurgle click.”
I smashed the set with the butt of the Magnum. They weren’t going to hear from us again, and now they could blame it on the snow.
When the loading operation was finished I had Sprague get his men together. They had worked up a good sweat, and Sprague himself was puffing hard. But the work hadn’t undercut their enthusiasm. They were as bright-eyed as when they started.
“You men have done good work,” I said. “I want to congratulate you. When a country has the support of men like you—”
I felt as though I was laying it on a little thick, but once I had set the tone it was hard to let go. I shook hands with them in turn, and they told me their names, and I mumbled heroic words of encouragement.
“We’re halfway home now,” I went on. “As you all know, the command at Fort Joshua Tree has been completely riddled by Communists and pink sympathizers. Mr. Gunderson and I have to get this van out of sight before they start sending out aerial recon teams. More important, we’ve got to put the truck convoy back on the road. A helicopter can’t tell whether the trucks are full or empty, or whether the men driving them are soldiers or citizens.” I pointed to the pile of field jackets taken from the dead guards. “Try those on,” I said. “See how they fit.”
The four helpers managed to get into the four available jackets. Sprague was left out. I took off my own overcoat and gave it to him. “You’ll take the convoy car,” I told him. “Wear this, and take the last spot in line.”
The coat was tight on him, but he managed to get into it. I took his jacket in return. It must have looked ridiculous over my uniform, but I didn’t much care.
I said, “Your destination is Omaha.” I briefed them on the route and told them to make no stops en route. “You’re behind schedule, so try to make up the time as well as you can. Don’t go over sixty, but maintain as close to that speed as you can without pushing it. When you get to Omaha, split up immediately. Park the trucks on side streets, leave the jackets in them, and head for home.”
“Won’t they get suspicious when the trucks don’t reach the Omaha destination?”
“Right. But by then we’ll have the van a long ways from here. We’re buying time, that’s all.”
“Check.”
“If you’re stopped on the road, refuse to answer questions. Don’t tell them a thing. No matter who interrogates you, no matter what kind of credentials you’re shown. Follow?” They nodded. “There are a lot of Commie types in positions of authority, and a lot of good Americans who’ll go along with them because they don’t know any better. Just clam up.” I thought for a moment. “Don’t even reveal your names,” 1 went on. “Are you carrying any identification? Wallets, licenses?”
I waited while they went through their pockets and handed me things. I took the money from their wallets and returned it to them. “We’ll return the rest later,” I said. “And here—” I took out my wallet, counted out five hundred dollars each for them— “for expenses. You’ll receive further recognition of our gratitude several weeks from now.”
To a man, they denied any desire for compensation. But to a man they took the five hundred.
“Now, Mr. Sprague. I’m afraid you may never see your truck again, citizen.”
He returned my smile. “Sort of suspected as much,” he said. “Don’t be worrying about her, she’s insured.”