James Rouch: Death March

“We’ll take out the first one, force them to go on to the second. They can’t turn back, they’re over half way.”

“You want to leave them a gift for when they bunch up at the second.” Carson was anticipating what the major had in mind.

“We’ll have to use this stuff to deny them the use of the first service area” Thorne indicated the thermite. “The cannon won’t knock out a gas station the size of an autobahn halt. There must be safety valves and all sorts of devices to prevent any fires we start at the pumps spreading to the underground storage tanks. “We’ll have to move fast. The commies won’t be that far behind us by the time we finish rigging the place for destruction. I don’t fancy getting caught between a bunch of thermite and tens of thousands of gallons of gas, not with tracer firing scout cars and APCs taking an interest in our actions.”

The service centre was duplicated on both sides of the multiple carriageways. There was no civilian traffic, no staff. Doors hung open. Cash desks were unguarded. Word had travelled far faster than the Russian column “Heck, it’s the Marie Celeste of the motorway world.”

They drove in under the high canopy sheltering the many clusters of pumps. All of the lights were out. Thorne selected and passed out thermite blocks as the squad climbed out. He sent them off in pairs to put them in place. As instructed they ignored the pumps and made for the steel covers set in to the road at the side of the self-service store. By some freak of chance a circuit remained live and the automatic opening door kept doing just that. The noise of its motor and the scrape and thump as it opened and closed were the only sound until a single vehicle, a silver BMW saloon hurtled past on the carriageway.

“Some one has ignored the barricades and police warnings and thinks the Russians won’t bother them.” Simmons watched the car until its lights were lost from site. “He’s in for a shock.”

“Serves him right, arrogant bastard.” Libby levered at an inspection cover with a bayonet and slowly the heavy metal slab rose up. “You can just see him zig-zagging around the barricades, can’t you.”

“It’ll make a nice bit of target practise for the Reds, if he doesn’t pile in to the front of one of them.” Clarence looked in to the hole, trying to find somewhere to put the incendiary device among all the brass valves and connections. Finally he tucked it tight up against a pipe whose open end revealed glistening brass threads.

In the far distance, only audible because all around them was so quiet, there came the sound of machine gun fire.

“He found them then.” For good measure Clarence unscrew the chain-retained caps on a couple of pipes. “Handy of him to let us know how close they are.” Thorne visited each of the sites where they had put the thermite and set the fuses. Each of the blocks would blaze at furnace heat for five minutes. More than enough time for them to burn through the tops of the tanks and fall in to the fuel below. The gasoline would instantly boil at far beyond its flash point and result in a huge explosion.

It was too much to hope it would catch any of the Russian advance guard. The most they might hope for was that even with the tanks a full hundred and fifty metres from the carriageways, the results might be so violent that the Russians would be forced in to a short detour.

Dodging the sliding door Dooley nipped in to the store and grabbed up a handful of chocolate bars. The selection was sparse, as it was everywhere in West Germany now and in any event he didn’t have the time to be choosy but just took what fell to hand. He rushed back to the APC, jumping aboard as the rear door hydraulics were just taking the strain and about to lift the heavy slab of armour.

“That’s nice, nearly closing me out. Here…” He handed the bars around, even offering one to their prisoner… “Have a snack.”

The Russian only groaned and closed his eyes at the offering.

After treating the tanks on the other side of the autobahn in the same fashion they pulled out. The first section was a long steep climb. The Iron Cow made light work of it but it gave Revell a chance to watch behind them. They were just about at the top when he saw a motorcycle and sidecar pull up under the canopy, followed by a missile armed BRDM scout car, then it was all gone from sight as they started down the far side of the climb.

They had travelled no more than a few hundred metres further when a pale glow flickered in the sky behind them. Almost instantly it changed to a small but brilliant white light, then without sound it transformed in to a giant mushroom of flame. A second rose beside it, then a third and then a succession. As they flared up into the dark sky they were replaced by vivid pillars of light, great glaring fingers of fire that rose to a great height.

“You think we caught many?” Simmons listened to the officer’s report with satisfaction. “We must’ve caught some, they were right on our tail.”

“Maybe, but very likely not.” Samson had been looking at their prisoner, taking his temperature, checking his pulse. He turned and made a slight negative move of his head to the Major. “They would have checked for booby traps first, that’s why Thorne set the timers so fine everything would have gone up almost before they started checking. But I tell you one thing. I bet they are real pissed off. Now everything depends on them getting to the next service centre and finding it safe and sound. They are going to be in desperate need of gas for their big guns by the time they get there.”

“Let us hope they are so desperate by that time that they throw caution to the wind.” There was satisfaction in Andrea’s voice. “It would be nice to catch a lot of them.” She pushed deeper in to her bench to get further from the demolition bomb. “I know I shall be glad to get away from that thing. But I shall be happier still if we can catch the Russian spearhead with it.”

Carson patted the bulky pack. “Actually I have been kind of getting attached to the little fellow. But I know what you mean, he’s been threatening to take us with him for so long it would be good if in fact somebody else gets dusted over the landscape.”

Lieutenant Andy took a swig from a can of coke and elevated it in a toast. “Amen to that, Amen indeed.”

“And what do you hope to gain?” General Zucharnin could not keep the snarl out of his voice, and didn’t try. He hoped his voice conveyed the venom he wanted. He had expected his Second-in-Command to gloat, but that there was a hint of doubt, a lack of confidence in his manner that suggested events had not gone entirely the way he had wanted or expected.

Although he was the one who had made the arrest, Lieutenant General Gregori did not feel the overwhelming satisfaction he thought he should have done. There was still no elaboration on that first instruction from Moscow. At the very least he would have expected that by now the place would swarm with KGB investigators and political officers, confiscating papers and computers, rounding up officers, clerks and signallers of every grade. Anyone who might have by the furthest stretch of the imagination been involved in whatever Zucharnin was plotting.

“How long had you been scheming, how long had you been sucking dry that dolt of a stepson of mine? Oh yes, I know what you have been up to.” Zucharnins’ tone was contemptuous. “Did you think I did not know what you were doing? I was well aware of your conniving but never thought you would be so stupid as to make a move with out knowing all the facts. Your precipitation could cost you dear. I think you will be in for a disappointment if you hope to step straight in to my shoes.”