The last enemy, p.11
The Last Enemy, page 11
“Shit, Lt, I didn’t realize. You don’t look too good. I’ll come back later. It can wait.”
“Tell me now. Is it about Clemence?”
He shook his head. “Negative, she’s okay. I came to report the casualties. Three dead and five wounded, two with broken legs when they took a tumble from the truck after you rammed the gun.”
“How many do we have left?”
“One officer, that’s you, and seventeen men.”
“I hear you.”
He floated away on an ocean of morphine, and when he regained consciousness, he felt groggy, though much better. The other casualties in the ambulance looked to be in a lot worse state than him. He felt he shouldn’t be there, and he climbed off the gurney and stumbled out the rear door, made it partway down the steps and pitched forward on his face.
He attempted to get up, swayed, and struggled to regain his balance. Swayed again, and a hand reached out to steady him. “Take it easy, soldier. Maybe you shouldn’t be out here.”
The voice sounded familiar, and he focused on a face that also looked familiar. The face of the man who’d helped him.
Shit!
General Earl Shriver. He tried to bring up his right arm in a salute, but he was too shaky. Shriver told him there was no need, and he’d help him back into the ambulance. He hadn’t recognized him, not until now. His face was covered in grime and blood, and he had to look closer to recognize him. When he did, he gaped. “You.”
“Yessir. Lieutenant Murphy.”
He seemed to be considering something. “They told me what you’d done, driving that truck up the hill and hitting the assault guns, that was good work.”
“Yessir. Thank you, Sir.”
“But I’m not happy about you taking away a military vehicle without authorization.”
“No, Sir. There wasn’t time.”
“Maybe not, but next time do it right. Speak with a senior officer.”
“Yessir, I’ll do that.”
Asshole.
He looked satisfied, told an officer in his entourage to get the Lieutenant back into the ambulance, and walked away to inspect the rest of the wounded. He lay back on the gurney, and when the medic reached him, he proffered the hypodermic for another shot. He refused, even when the guy said it would hurt like hell. That was too bad, but he wasn’t about to spend the rest of the war that was short to end in a matter of days in a fog of drug-induced confusion. He decided to bite the bullet.
A half-hour later he was surfacing from another bout of unconsciousness when he looked up and spotted Colonel Lawson. As well as Clemence Delon, who was standing over him.
“Jack, you don’t look so good.”
He forced a grin, and even that small effort was painful. “You should see the other guys.”
She shuddered. “We’ve seen them. It was a bloodbath out there. I’m sorry about the men you lost.”
“Yeah, it’s appreciated.” He switched his gaze to Lawson. “Colonel, what’s going on?”
He pursed his lips. “The Division is moving southwest, away from the Harz. Aerial reconnaissance has discovered another concentration of enemy armor just a few miles further south, and Shriver decided to go around them. Encircle them, and deal with them when we’ve mopped up the last few enemy units there still fighting. He plans to split the Division, swing back around, and hit them from both sides and the air. That should take care of them.”
“Unless there’s more they haven’t spotted.”
He frowned. “There is that possibility, but the Germans must be running low on men and equipment.”
“Then why are they putting so much effort into defending this place? Colonel, it looks like they’re deliberately pushing us west as if they’re trying to hide something from us. You recall what Neuberg said about a new weapon. He called it a superbomb.”
“Inside the underground facility at Nordhausen? We put it out of business, all they can develop there is a new type of spade to dig out the rubble.”
“I heard Neuberg mention something about a mirror facility. Maybe it’s in the Harz, and that’s what they’re protecting.”
Lawson wasn’t convinced. He told him he’d thought long and hard about this talked about ‘superbomb,’ and it sounded like every other bullshit secret weapon Adolf Hitler had trumpeted to his followers. He told him he’d speak with Neuberg again, and he went away. Clemence remained, and she had a lot to talk about. The end of the war had to be a matter of days away, and she wanted to discuss their future. The plans they’d made, the dreams they intended to fulfill. Where they’d decide to live, and what kind of work they’d do.
She skillfully redressed the wound while they were talking. Afterward, he lied and told her it felt much better. It had been a struggle not to cry out in agony each time she touched his injured flesh, but he wasn’t a complaining type of guy. After a long interval, Lawson reappeared, trailed by Konrad Neuberg. Although he’d recovered from the worst and was able to walk, his face was ashen, etched with lines of pain. He looked like Murphy felt. Like shit.
Lawson prompted him about the existence of a mirror laboratory.
“It exists, I’ve seen it. Once. They took us there once to calibrate the equipment.”
“Where is it?”
He hesitated. “I’m not sure. We traveled in a closed truck, and they were careful to make sure we didn’t see the surrounding area. All I can tell you is the journey took about three hours from Nordhausen, and the laboratory is deep underground.”
“Could it be someplace in the Harz Mountains?”
“It’s possible. The truck we rode in turned off the road into what sounded like a tunnel.” He paused, “Wait, there’s something else I remember. The road surface was uneven like we were bumping over railroad ties.”
Lawson leaned forward. “Could it have been a railroad tunnel?”
“Yes, that would explain it. A disguised railroad tunnel, to give access to the facility. Or more than one. But I cannot tell you where. There are many railroads across this part of Germany, and it could’ve been any of them.”
The Colonel took out a map from his pouch and spread it out over the blanket. “You don’t mind? It’s a bit crowded in here.”
“Go ahead but keep it away from the wound.”
“Of course.”
They looked down at the map, but not Murphy, who tried to raise his head to look at it and fell back when the pain stabbed through him. He listened to them discussing the possibilities, while Lawson eliminated each one in turn. Most railroads and tunnels had been destroyed in the frequent bombing raids designed to disrupt the Nazi effort to keep their troops and equipment moving. Until he focused on one place. He jabbed a finger down at a point on the map, at the edge of the southern perimeter of the Harz.
“There. It’s my best guess, and as far as I know, the railroad in that area hasn’t been bombed. I’ll check with Air Force liaison.”
He returned as the medic was kicking Clemence and Neuberg out of the ambulance, complaining it was too crowded for them to treat the wounded. Lawson forced his way back inside.
“I thought I’d let you know. The area is scheduled to be heavily bombed later today. There’s a big raid coming in. We’ve run out of time. If the tunnel is there, the bombing will seal it off from the outside world. It’s a no-go.”
Neuberg seated himself on the steps at the rear of the ambulance and overheard him.
“I believe there is another way to get inside. While I was down there, I heard them say they built the facility inside an abandoned, two-hundred-year-old mine. They used to dig for copper and zinc until the minerals ran out, but the infrastructure is still there, including a narrow-gauge railroad. I have no idea where it is.”
“It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Lawson murmured.
Neuberg nodded. “That’s true. There are also many tunnels and caves in the region. Perhaps…” He stopped talking, “No, impossible.”
The Brit fixed him with a stare. “The sixty-four dollar-question, Professor Neuberg, is whether it would work. We’ve heard so much about these new weapons, and so far, they’ve mostly been useless. Like the Tiger II tank. On paper it looks unbeatable, and the new 88mm gun is fearsome, but the true story is somewhat different. It’s unreliable, and the armor is too brittle, so when it takes a hit, it tends to fall apart.”
“That is true, but I have checked and rechecked my calculations a hundred times, and I believe it would work,” the German said stubbornly, “I’ve already said Richter has my notebook, and if he follows it, he could complete a viable weapon.”
“A bomb powerful enough to destroy the city?”
“Yes. It would change everything.”
He nodded. “In that case, I’ll go see General Shriver and tell him about this. If the enemy is throwing everything they have into defending this area, it must be the reason. In which case Shriver should continue along the line of advance instead of veering away. I’ll take Neuberg with me, and he can tell him what he told me.”
They left, and minutes later the surgeon arrived. He took one look at a severely wounded man and grimaced. “This man must be taken to the rear immediately. He needs major surgery to repair the damage if he is to survive. Except that so many of our vehicles have been destroyed we don’t have anything we can send.” He looked at Clemence. “Miss, is that your jeep outside?” She nodded, “I’d appreciate it if you would take him. It’s about a ten-mile drive, and we’ll load his gurney onto the jeep with a corpsman to look after him. Can you deal with that?”
There was never any question. She agreed immediately, and minutes later they loaded the gurney onto the jeep, with the corpsman squeezed in next to it. Before the surgeon left, he bent to examine Murphy’s wound and frowned. Medics always frowned. It couldn’t be that bad. If they thought you were dying, they always pasted on a fake smile. He mumbled something to himself, jotted a note on a pad, and left. He waited for Lawson and Neuberg to return and saw a figure in military uniform walking up the steps. He guessed it was Lawson.
It wasn’t. The new arrival was immaculately dressed in a carefully pressed uniform bearing the shoulder tabs of a full colonel. Colonel Raymond Debrett was the last person he wanted to see. Debrett looked down at him, his face unusually sympathetic.
What’s he up to?
“Lieutenant Murphy, I came to give you the good news. The surgeon has handed over a list of casualties that require medical evacuation, and you’re on the list.”
“Evacuation?”
It could’ve been a triumphant smile that touched the edges of his lips, or maybe he was imagining things. Debrett told him that microscopic fragments had got embedded deep in the wound. “There’s a danger you’ll get gangrene, and you could die, so they have to come out. It’s a long, tricky and highly skilled operation. The best hospital to handle it is Walter Reed Army Medical Center in D.C.”
“Washington, D.C.? Are they sending me home? You’re kidding me.”
He shook his head slowly like he was correcting a child. “I’m not kidding. The Army wants to give the best treatment to its wounded soldiers, and as it happens there’s a medical evacuation flight leaving late tomorrow from a temporary airfield the engineers constructed outside Bielefeld. That’s about one hundred miles north of here. As soon as we can arrange transportation, we’ll get you up there and on that flight. You’re a lucky man. You’re going home. For you, the war’s over. You can relax, go home, and take a few months leave.”
He thought of his home in Whitefish, Montana. His beloved mountains, the job he enjoyed working at the gun store. He’d missed them all, but he’d found something else. He’d found soldiering. Even earned a promotion and an officer’s commission. To his surprise, he enjoyed the challenge of leading a bunch of tough men against a tough, stubborn enemy. He’d also found love with Clemence Delon, the girl he planned to spend the rest of his life with. Leaving her here and flying back to the States? Hell, no. Besides, the war wasn’t over. He’d joined the Army on December 7, 1941 and made a vow to see it through to the end. That meant until the last enemy of the United States was either dead or had laid down their arms.
Many were dead, but some were still fighting, refusing to surrender their arms. Even at this late stage, resistance was surprisingly stubborn. Then there was the other thing. If Neuberg was correct, they could have a nasty surprise up their sleeve. Every time he thought of that dark, mysterious, region that lay to the east, he felt more convinced there was a nasty surprise waiting for them in there. No soldier liked nasty surprises, especially where the Nazis were concerned. He itched to hunt down what was going on and find out if it was true, but if they shipped him back to the States, it would never happen.
Lawson returned with a glum expression. “He believes it’s all bullshit, more of Hitler’s crazy schemes, probably a ray gun or some such thing.” He sighed, “Then again, he could be right.”
“What if he’s wrong? And Neuberg is right?”
“Then God help us all. I just walked past Colonel Debrett; I gather he came to see you. It must’ve gone well because he was whistling a song that everybody’s singing right now. ‘Sentimental Journey.’
He told him about them sending him back to the States. Lawson said if that’s what he needed to save his life, it had to be a good idea. “But you don’t sound so happy. Do you think we can’t win the war without you?”
“No, I don’t think that. It’s just this weapon that worries me, this bomb. I can’t get it out of my mind. Somebody must at least check it out. We must be able to find the old mine on a map, and that could lead straight to it.”
“There is no us, Lieutenant. You’re going home.”
“Except for what has to be done.”
“Not by you, Murphy. If the surgeon says it’s essential you go back, you must go.”
“Who’d lead a squad in there to check it out?”
“If it comes to it, there’ll be plenty of officers prepared to take it on.”
“Plenty of officers prepared to sacrifice their careers on a maybe?”
At first, he didn’t reply, and he didn’t need to. Since they’d arrived in Normandy, they’d pulled some crazy stunts. Most had succeeded, and they’d done a lot of damage to the Nazi war machine. But Murphy had broken every rule in the book and disobeyed more orders than he could count.
“I…uh…I’m not sure.”
“Colonel, you know we have to do this.”
Lawson made it clear he hated the idea of involving a man who needed urgent surgical treatment. This would be a difficult and dangerous mission, and it could prove to be a waste of time. But they had to know.
“I’ll help you up.”
Suddenly, a vehicle drove up. Colonel Debrett’s jeep. He leaped out and regarded Murphy with distaste. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Uh, just getting some fresh air.”
“You can get plenty of fresh air on the way to Bielefeld. As it happens, I’ve been ordered to Bielefeld to check out some things, so you’re coming with me. Get in the jeep. We’re leaving right now.”
Chapter Six
Richter waited while Werner Stuck left to explore the narrow cavern. Little more than fifteen inches in height, jagged rocks hung down in places to snag on the clothing of the unwary. He felt more than a little uncomfortable about crawling through that narrow space. Knowing thousands of tons of rock were above his head. Knowing that if a man got stuck in there, there’d be no way out. He’d questioned him about alternate routes, but the NCO had given him that superior look and said if he wasn’t up to it, they could turn back.
“Once you get inside, there’s no turning around. A few years ago, a man got stuck inside, and they couldn’t move him. There wasn’t enough room to get his body out, and he blocked the cavern for a week before they cut him up and dragged him out, piece by piece. Are you sure you don’t want to turn back?”
They couldn’t turn back and Stuck knew it. There was no other way in. The Allied armies were everywhere, and if they remained out in the open, they’d likely be captured. This was the best way, the safe way, the only way. He told him to go ahead and waited impatiently until Unterscharführer Werner Stuck’s head reappeared at the entrance.
“It’s all clear. Follow me.”
He felt his irritation rise. Once again, he’d worn that superior expression, and once again, he’d failed to call him by his military title, Obergruppenführer. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reminding him yet again and inviting a snub. Stuck turned and disappeared back into the narrow hole. He followed, squeezing inside, and it wasn’t as bad as he’d surmised, it was worse. The air was musty, and the cramped tunnel he was wriggling through felt claustrophobic. Like crawling through a long coffin. Several times he had to force himself to control his panic, not to throw up and go back.
He kept worming his way through until they reached a small, circular chamber about six feet high, enough for a man to stand, and about six feet in diameter.
Stuck was waiting. “I thought you might want to take a rest.”
“Yes.” He was exhausted after the long crawl, and although he’d controlled the panic, it’d sapped his energy, “How much further?”
“Not far. It will take about an hour to reach the laboratory. Provided it’s still there.”
“It will be there, as will the narrow-gauge railroad, so we won’t have a problem getting the bomb out. It’s heavy, but long and narrow, designed to fit through a tight space.”
“How powerful is it, Herr Doctor?”
“It’s powerful.” The NCO was waiting for something more, and Richter felt the swell of pride for his work. Now he was on the verge of completing the device he’d spent so many years of his life developing, “Very powerful. So powerful it could destroy an entire army.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “One bomb can do that?”
