James Benn - A Mortal Terror

“Listen, my kid brother is in Flint’s platoon. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“I think Major Cosgrove is right,” Kaz said. “You may put Danny in greater danger by going after Flint directly. If he thinks he is about to be taken, he could try to harm Danny. But if we tempt him with our general, he might be vulnerable.”

“That makes sense, Boyle,” Harding said. “If he has time to react when he sees you, he could take Danny and others down with him. But if he thinks he’s stalking a general, he might go at it alone.”

“Why don’t I walk over and plug him?” Big Mike said. “He don’t know me from Adam. I’m just saying.”

“All the same, my good man, I think we should proceed with some attempt at legal proceedings,” Cosgrove said. “Which will be more productive if we catch him in the act. All we can charge him with now, with any hope of conviction, is assault on this Ileana girl. There’s no evidence against him otherwise.”

“Okay,” Harding said. “General Paget will inspect the battalion in the reserve area at 0700 hours. I’ll pass the word along so Flint will hear about it tonight. Boyle, you need to sit this one out. You’ll only spook him.”

“I guess so. Sir.”

“I still say I should plug him, Sam,” Big Mike said.

“Thanks, Big Mike, but I’d rather see you keep those stripes,” Harding said. “I had the personnel section pull the files on Landry’s platoon, so you and Major Cosgrove can check Flint’s photograph, along with others.” Harding shoved a pile of folders toward Big Mike, leaving a stack behind. The dead.

“Hey,” Big Mike said, opening Flint’s file and looking at the army photograph. “This is Flint?”

“Yes,” Harding said. “Memorize the face.”

“I don’t have to. I saw this guy down at the docks, when I was waiting for Kaz. He stood out because he ducked behind a truck, like he’d spotted someone he didn’t want to see.”

“Was this guy with him?” I pulled Danny’s photograph from his file.

“Didn’t see him.”

“They were both sent down to the docks to pick up replacements. Danny should have been with him.”

“Billy, there were hundreds of guys milling around. I could have missed him easy,” Big Mike said. He was right. It probably meant nothing. My gut told me otherwise.

I watched the small column leave at 0600, Big Mike at the wheel of a staff car and Cosgrove in back, the red stripe on his service cap proclaiming his general’s rank at a glance. A jeep full of MPs provided escort, nothing out of the ordinary for a VIP. Soon after that, Harding, Kearns, and Kaz drove out, an MP sergeant at the wheel. The plan was for them to hang back and observe, waiting for Flint to make his move.

It was a good plan, and it made sense to leave me out of it. Still, I wished I could be there to keep Danny out of trouble. But if all went as planned, I’d have another shot at getting him transferred out, and I had to settle for that.

Military police had set up shop in a municipal building near headquarters. They had coffee brewing and a good cellar in case of an air raid, so I waited there for news from Harding. The MPs had a radio in their vehicle, and would call in as soon as something happened.

The Germans were shelling around the clock, not always a massive barrage, but enough to keep everyone awake and jumpy. Last night had been no exception, and between air-raid sirens, antiaircraft fire, and the Kraut artillery, I hadn’t slept much. I was pouring my second cup of joe when a clerk from HQ came in looking for me. I had mail. From Boston. It was over six weeks old, but I was amazed it had even caught up with me.

It was from my mother, of course. Dad might scribble a line or two at the end, but it was always Mom who wrote. She caught me up on family news, cousins getting married, a new baby born to the neighbors, the onset of winter. Then she got to Danny. She had just heard about the ASTP program being cancelled, and was worried about him being sent overseas. Could I ask Uncle Ike about him? See that he got a job in London, perhaps? Stay safe, and watch out for your brother, she said. Both were tall orders in Anzio. Dad wrote about lots of overtime waiting for me at Boston PD, and I thought about all the cash I’d have if the army paid time and a half.

I folded the letter and put it in my shirt pocket. As soon as I had Danny squared away, I’d write. I’d tell her he was safe and sound, doing some boring job at headquarters, sleeping inside under blankets. I hoped it would be true.

I relaxed, listening to the familiar chatter of law enforcement. Gripes, complaints, calls coming in, cops going out. It was early, and with the Carabinieri policing the local populace, there wasn’t a lot going on. Until a major burst in to report his jeep stolen. He’d had a . 30-caliber machine gun mounted on it, and he wanted it back, now. Never mind that it was pinched yesterday and he’d been too busy to report it, he wanted action now. A pudgy, red-faced guy, he was with the Quartermaster unit that off-loaded supplies in the harbor, and he cursed and hollered until he got an officer to listen to him. I watched the MPs as they turned away, rolling their eyes at the posturing of a supply officer who needed a machine gun on his jeep. I knew the type, and would bet dollars to doughnuts that he’d have a photograph of himself at the wheel, looking as if he were ready for a raid behind enemy lines. It struck me as strange that even while he was doing important work, in constant danger from German shells and bombs, a guy like him had to throw his weight around and try too hard to impress people.

A couple of MPs donned their white helmets and followed the major out while another radioed units with a description and serial number of the jeep. Good luck with that one, boys, I thought. With a day’s head start, it could be anywhere, and I doubted any MP worth his salt would search front-line units for a stolen jeep, especially for this loudmouthed major.

An hour passed, and then another. I asked the radioman for the tenth time if there were any messages, and he suggested I get some fresh air. He was a corporal, so he said it nicely, but I got the hint. I walked down to the water and watched landing craft ferry in supplies from Liberty Ships anchored in the bay. Antiaircraft guns pointed their barrels at the sky, swiveling back and forth as they searched for targets. A quiet morning at war, almost peaceful, if you didn’t think about all the weapons and rubble about. The water lapping at the rocks along the shore reminded me of Boston, down by the inner harbor. It could be peaceful there, too, until you spotted a dead body bobbing in the swell.

I waited as long as I could, then decided that one of the benefits of being an officer was bothering radiomen whenever you wanted. As I walked up from the seafront, Big Mike pulled up in the staff car, followed by Harding and Kaz.

“He wasn’t there, Billy,” Big Mike said. He sounded worried, more worried than he should’ve been. “He’s been gone since yesterday.”

“Danny as well,” Kaz said, as he got out of the jeep. “Neither of them returned to the unit yesterday afternoon, after they drove to the harbor to get replacements.”

I felt them all looking at me, waiting for a reaction. I didn’t know what to say, or, worse yet, what to do. Flint, loose somewhere in the Anzio beachhead, the sea at his back, the Germans all around, and Danny at his side. I tried not to think about the memory of that floater in Boston harbor as I tried to calculate what Flint’s game was.

“Billy,” Kaz said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “What should we do?”

“I wish I knew,” I said. We trooped inside, and the MPs stood to attention when Cosgrove entered in his general’s getup. He quickly waved them off. Harding spread out a map of the beachhead on a table, and marked the front lines with a red pencil.