They threw themselves on the ground to take a rest. Murphy estimated they had at least two hours before the sky darkened enough to see the stars. In theory. Until dark, thundery rain clouds rolled in and threw theory out the window. Heavy rain fell in torrents, and they sheltered miserably beneath the trees. They weren’t enough to keep them dry, just enough to remind them what ‘dry’ may’ve once felt like.

  He got together with Lawson, Rooker, and Neuberg. “We need to work out the route. Otherwise, we’ll end up back where we started.”

  “Or we wander around these forests and mountains until the war has ended,” Rooker murmured.

  He questioned Neuberg again. The guy had worked here, albeit underground as a slave, so he had to have a better idea of the way the land lay than the rest of them. He didn’t.

  “I’m sorry, I rarely saw the outside. I wish I could help.”

  There had to be something they could do, other than wait it out. If the rain hadn’t ceased by daybreak, they’d have lost their chance of navigating by the stars. He briefly considered going back, even if it was possible to find the way back. Then there was the possibility this could be a waste of time. He put it to Neuberg at length, who admitted there was still a chance the device may fail.

  “Although in my opinion, I believe it’ll work. I’ve made every calculation and checked them repeatedly. If Richter completes it, it will detonate, and the resulting explosion will be as I described. Enough for the Nazis to prolong and even win the war.”

  That settled it. He felt guilty for even considering turning back. This mission was too important for any man to consider aborting. They had to find a way, and that meant making an educated guess. He took a last look at the useless compass and tucked it away. A waste of time, there was no way it would work in this place. They needed some other way to guide them, and it came to him like a bolt of lightning. Like the gods had decided to throw them a lifeline.

  He looked at Rooker. “Do you recall which way the wind was blowing when the Division ran into the ambush? Plenty of vehicles were on fire with smoke pouring into the sky. Which way did it blow?”

  He thought for a few moments. “South, I’m pretty sure.”

  Lawson agreed, and the wind direction was the one thing the clouds, the rain, and the darkness couldn’t hide. He got his feet and faced into wind. If it hadn’t changed, he was staring due north. He turned through one hundred and eighty degrees and pointed. “That way.”

  Lawson murmured. “If it’s swung in the opposite direction, we could be walking north.”

  “That’s true, but it’s all we have to go on. We’ll assume it hasn’t changed direction. Move out.”

  There were plenty of grumbles. It had been tough going during the daylight hours, without the incessant rain hammering down through the night. They were miserable, he was miserable, and more. He had no illusions. Every step he took would be a nightmare, and he’d take more than a few tumbles before dawn broke, but time wasn’t on their side. They were in a race. A race against the Germans. And maybe the Russians. That bullet that’d slammed into his shoulder was Russian. If they were here, they were after the same thing. The difference was if they won the race, the Communists would take a huge leap forward over the West. Would they share the knowledge with their American and British allies? Like hell they would. They’d be in such a strong military position they could dictate the future of Europe, as well as the future of the rest of the world.

  There was no question of slowing down. No question of going back, they had to find this place and seize or destroy whatever they found. Neuberg interrupted his thoughts.

  “One thing more, Lieutenant. It’s very dangerous.”

  “Mister, you don’t need to tell me that twenty thousand tons of TNT is very dangerous. It’s about the most dangerous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “It’s not that. What I meant is that uranium 235 is itself very dangerous. You cannot handle it, not without protective equipment and clothing. If you try you will surely die. Depending on the level of your exposure, you could die quickly or slowly, but either way, it’s a death sentence.”

  “So how do we deal with it?”

  “The uranium will be stored inside a lead-lined container, so provided you don’t open it, it’s not likely to harm you. At least, not a short exposure. But if you open it to look inside, you’re as good as dead.”

  “I’ll bear it in mind.”

  They stumbled through the darkness, and as the first rays of dawn appeared in the sky, they were on top of a hill, looking down into a deep valley. The rain had cleared at last, so they could see for more than a mile. In the distance they spotted something worth checking out. The rusting remains of a cluster of buildings. The kind of buildings they used for mine workings. Kelly let out a whoop of joy.

  “We’ve made it. It’s down there somewhere.”

  “So are they.”

  Several men had appeared at the entrance to one of the buildings and spread out as if they were searching for the others. Who were they? He called Lucas to hand him his rifle and used the scope. He focused in on them, and they were dressed as German soldiers. Except for one man who was in the process of stripping off his tunic. Underneath he wore a uniform that was anything but German. The baggy, ill-fitting khaki of the Red Army. He stripped to the waist and plunged his hands and face into a trough of water. His morning ablutions.

  When he’d finished, he pulled his clothes back on, and once more he resembled a German soldier. Except he wasn’t.

  He looked at Lawson. “The Russians have beaten us to it.”

  The Colonel nodded. “This could be a problem.”

  “What problem? This is the American sector. We go down there and tell them to beat it back east, to the Soviet sector.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. They’re not likely to give up easily.”

  “Colonel, we outnumber them. We have more men and more guns, so they get the hell out.”

  “I doubt it. They won’t go without a fight.”

  “That’s tough. We have to get past them.”

  “Yes, we do. But you must remember they’re our allies. It would be tantamount to declaring war on Joe Stalin’s Soviet Union.”

  “Fuck ‘em. We’re on the side of the angels. If they won’t give way, we’ll make them.”

  “They’ll sure to have sent their best men on a mission this important. They won’t be a pushover.”

  “Neither are we. We’re going down there, and we’re gonna kick their Commie asses.”

  * * *

  Colonel Raymond Debrett struggled to contain his anger. Once again, Lieutenant Murphy had deliberately disobeyed a direct order to accompany him to Bielefeld. Even worse, he’d taken his men on some fool jaunt with that interfering limey Colonel. He was going to fix this, and he called ahead to Bielefeld to tell them he’d be delayed. He was a man on a mission, and that mission was to bring some semblance of order and discipline back to the 27th Division by getting Murphy back.

  He spotted General Shriver leaving his command trailer and caught up with him.

  “General, it’s about Lieutenant Murphy. He’s gone, and his platoon has disappeared with him.”

  He scowled. “Again? It’s long past time that officer learned to obey orders. Where did he go?”

  Debrett pointed east. “Into the Harz.”

  “Dammit, that’s another platoon disappeared, what is it about that place? I sent Lieutenant Shriver to carry out a reconnaissance and report back what he found. So far, we’ve heard nothing. This is too much. Colonel, I have a job for you. Find those men and get them back here.”

  He paled. “Sir, I was due to…”

  “Not now you’re not. I’ll detail some men to go with you. You’ll have a radio, and you’ll report in with what you’ve found every hour. There’s something about that place that gives me the creeps. Take two platoons, and before you leave, speak with my staff. They’ll advise you of the route Lieutenant Shriver took. Pick up their trail and find them. This is a priority, Colonel.” He leaned closer, “Lieutenant Shriver is my nephew, and I’m worried about him. This was his first combat patrol.”

  As far as he was aware, Debrett didn’t believe there was a single man in the Division who didn’t know about Shriver’s nephew, but he managed to express surprise. He was also trying to work out how to get out of this mission. He considered pointing out that like Lieutenant Shriver, he also had no combat experience, but it didn’t seem like a good time when it was the General’s relative was missing. He’d have to do it, but he resigned himself to staying in the rear. Who knew what trouble they may encounter?

  He felt reassured when an hour later an infantry lieutenant reported to him.

  “Lieutenant Witherspoon, Sir.” Another rookie, fresh-faced, clean uniform, and an anxious-to-please expression. Another of West Point’s finest, “I have two platoons formed up and ready to leave on your order. The General assigned us two trucks to transport us back to the place where Lieutenant Shriver left the road.” He pointed, “They’re back there.”

  He acknowledged and followed Witherspoon to the rear of the column. Sixty-two men were clustered around the trucks, and the Lieutenant signaled for the NCOs to get them aboard. Debrett climbed into the cab of the leading truck and told the driver to move off. He had a map on his knee marked with the spot where the missing platoon had started climbing the hillside, and he had no trouble following it. He’d scored top of his class for map reading at West Point. But close to the bottom when it came to simulated combat.

  They reached the place less than ten minutes later. They climbed down and looked at him, waiting for him to give the order. He looked at Witherspoon. “Tell them to move out.”

  “Yessir. Uh, you want me to put a man on point?”

  He scowled. “Of course, I do, it’s SOP, so get to it.”

  The junior officer gave him an oblique look. It was also SOP for the squad leader to issue the order. He shouted to a man standing nearby. “Private Hoskins, take the point. We’ll follow one hundred yards back, and make sure to keep your eye skinned.”

  They started up the slope. The order to keep their eyes skinned had been unnecessary. There was something of the night about this place, and it didn’t have anything to do with the hours of darkness. It was just a feeling, deep in a man’s guts. The higher they climbed up the slope, the more it felt strange. Debrett, walking in the center of the squad men, felt it, too. It was hard to describe, a feeling they were being watched. He didn’t think it likely the enemy was still around. There was still some shooting and artillery fire, but further south. Nothing in this area. Before they left Shriver had insisted on an aerial reconnaissance, and he told him every report suggested the enemy had gone.

  Yet there was still that feeling, hard to shake. They crested the hill, and they were looking across at a nightmarish collection of mountains, forests, and valleys. He reflected that they could hide an entire army in this place, and it could take months to locate them and dig them out. Although he had doubts they’d hidden an army in there. Why would they? But still, something in there made him feel uneasy. He could see the men felt it, too. The number of strained glances, men looking every which way.

  Yet there was nothing there, and they walked on slowly. Down the slope, into the valley, and up the next slope. They followed a path through thick forest until they came to a clearing, and something was in the center. A line of posts was placed as if to block the path, and he smiled to himself. There was no reason for placing the posts in such a place. It was almost like a bunch of kids had been playing a Halloween game.

  They walked on until Hoskins stopped and signaled he’d found something. He was ten yards from the posts. The men instantly stopped, looking around. Cocked their weapons, searching for the enemy. There was no enemy. Lieutenant Witherspoon went forward to see what he’d found, and he waved for Debrett to come forward and take a look.

  The Colonel was staring at the most ghastly and macabre sight he’d seen in his life. A couple of posts had fallen down, but four still stood, and on top of each was a severed head, lips drawn back in a rictus of agony. He felt sick and dry-retched. He was inclined to turn and run back the way they’d come, but he forced himself to remain.

  “What the fuck is it?”

  “Sir, we found Ed Shriver, the General’s nephew. At least, we found his head, along with the heads of the other guys in his platoon.”

  The rest of the men arrived and stared with horror at the ghastly sight. Debrett was at a loss, didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. He looked at Witherspoon, who looked away, not wanting to make any decision. He looked at the rest of the men, and they also looked away. They felt the same impulse as him.

  ‘Get the fuck out of this place.’

  “We’re going back.”

  Witherspoon hesitated. “Sir, we’re not done. The order was to find Shriver and Murphy’s platoon.”

  “I…uh… vital we report this to the General. Jesus Christ, man, it’s his nephew. He’ll go ballistic.”

  The Lieutenant shrugged. “If you say so, Colonel.”

  Debrett was right. He went ballistic. They’d brought the severed heads back with them and marked on a map the place where the remains lay for Graves Registration to handle. When he saw the head of his nephew, First Lieutenant Edgar Shriver, he flew into a rage. It was so bad that men kept well away until he’d calmed down.

  He called Debrett and fixed him with a hard glare. “You oversaw the search party, Colonel. I want to know who did this?”

  He told him what he’d seen, which was not much. Nobody around. Zip, zero, zilch. “Whoever it was, I guess they’re long gone.”

  “What about Murphy’s platoon?”

  “No sign of them.”

  Shriver bared his teeth in a snarl that made Debrett take a step back. “Colonel, I sent you up there to find them. I want you to take the squad back in there, find Murphy, and link up with his platoon. Then you will look for the people who did this, and don’t come back until you find them! When you do find them, ace the motherfuckers. Every last motherfucker!”

  His mouth dropped open. “General! I’m not sure I can do that. Following such an order would mean I’d be committing a war crime.”

  “A war crime! He’s my fucking nephew. Brutally murdered, beheaded, and his head left on a stick! What do you call that if it isn’t a war crime?”

  “Yessir, but there is due process.”

  “Fuck due process! I want those bastards, and I want them dead, so get back there, and don’t come back until you’re done.”

  “Uh, General, I’m wondering if a more experienced combat soldier would be best to lead this mission.”

  His eyes glittered. “I’ve given you an order. You were the man on the spot, so get it done.” His eyes narrowed to hard slits, “The Krauts are still putting up a hard fight, and we’re about to assault the next town. It’ll be bloody, and we’ll take casualties. If you prefer, you can lead that attack.”

  “I’ll find Murphy.”

  “Good man.”

  * * *

  Reaching the cluster of mine buildings wasn’t so easy. They emerged from the forest and the ground sloped steeply down to the edge of a precipice that plunged five hundred feet into a deep gorge. The light was already fading, and by the time they’d taken a long detour to go around it and reached the other side, it would be dark, and those soldiers could be anywhere. The going underfoot was also treacherous, and Murphy called a halt when a man slipped into a shallow crevasse and narrowly avoided breaking a leg. If they carried on, they’d get there with half the men injured.

  “We’ll spend the night under the trees,” he told them. “Gordon, take the first watch, and don’t forget those Russians are around here somewhere.”

  They didn’t like it and with good reason. The place gave them all the creeps. The wind sighing through the trees and echoing through narrow valleys made strange, howling noises. He didn’t say it, but he also felt as if the place was haunted by the souls of former inhabitants, long dead. Kelly joined him.

  “There’s something weird about this place. Like something’s watching us. Something that ain’t human.”

  He tried to laugh it off. “That’s just your Irish ancestors, Dan. You’ll be seeing leprechauns next.”

  “My great-grandfather said he saw a leprechaun once.”

  “Probably on his way home from the local bar. What do they call that stuff, ’poteen?’ They say it packs a punch.”

  “He was a lifelong teetotaler.”

  “There are no leprechauns in Ireland, not many teetotalers, and there are no ghosts in the Harz.”

  He knew he didn’t believe him. No surprise there, he didn’t believe himself. There was something malevolent about this place, like a dark, threatening cloud of evil.

  There are no ghosts. Pull yourself together, Murphy. I’m an Army Ranger, not some spooked school kid.

  Lawson settled down to rest nearby, and he called out, “Do you feel it?”

  He sighed. “Not you, too?”

  A pause. “I know, I know, it’s just the imagination playing tricks, but still…” He didn’t speak for several minutes, “Did you know of the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest?”

  “Nope. I didn’t realize our troops had entered this area before now.”

  “They hadn’t. This was two thousand years ago when German tribes ambushed a Roman legion and destroyed it. It wasn’t in the Harz, but there have been archaeological finds of Roman remains in this region that suggest another major battle was fought in these parts. It would’ve been brutal and bloody, with thousands of men killed. Most wouldn’t have been buried, their remains left to be eaten by wild animals. Their bones forgotten and left to rot away over the centuries. You know what they say about wandering spirits?”

  The normal chatter and conversation of men settling down for the night was absent. They were quiet, listening to Lawson.

 

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