Rutherford Montgomery - A Yankee Flier in Italy

Inside the house there was a great uproar as the Germans searched for the missing men. Tony chuckled, then whispered:

“Little Don Sachetti and I used to get spanked for sneaking through that window and climbing the trellis.”

“We had better take over that car and our guns and grenades. This is the best chance we’ll ever have. Most of the Germans are in the house,” Stan said.

“Don Sachetti was executed yesterday. I think he would rest better if we tossed a few grenades through the windows of his home,” the general said. “By all means let us proceed with the capture of the car and matériel.”

“You drive, Arno,” Stan ordered. “Fan out, boys, and start shooting when they spot us.” He turned to the general. “Sorry, sir, that we do not have a gun for you.”

“I will soon have one,” the general answered grimly.

The boys spread out in the darkness along the side of the last van. They moved forward with automatic pistols ready. Stan picked his man, a burly officer with a flashlight. The Germans were so intent upon the arms they had found that they did not see their attackers until the boys were upon them. The burly officer was the one who sounded the alarm. He shouted loudly as he shot his light over the raiders. Instantly the boys opened up. With pistols flaming they charged. Stan saw the general leap ahead and tear a rifle from the hands of a falling German.

For a moment the action was furious, but the fire from the forty-fives was deadly and the Germans went down or leaped away. Stan located a sack of grenades that had been removed from the car. He took out a couple and tossed them over toward the big gate. The result was all that he had hoped it would be. A dozen armed guards had been standing at the gates under shaded lights, while the machine-gun crews outside were dragging their guns around to bring them to bear inside the yard. After the second grenade exploded with a roar Stan saw nothing at the gate at all except a pile of bricks where one of the entrance pillars had stood a moment before.

“Good going, but Tony has been hit,” Allison shouted. “Better get into the car!”

Arno had the engine roaring while Allison and the general were sweeping the yard with tommy-gun fire. Tony lay on the floor of the car, shoved down to keep him clear of flying lead. From the shadows all around them bullets were whining. Stan slid in beside Arno. He could not find a tommy-gun, but he had the sack of grenades on his lap. Leaning out through the window of the car he began lobbing them at the windows of the big house. He hoped some of those he tossed would be incendiary grenades. Arno drove parallel to the house for a short distance to give Stan a chance with his grenades.

The car swerved as they passed the door. Stan was able to plant a grenade into the open door and to add another before they straightened out for the charge at the gate. They hit the pile of loose bricks lying in the entrance and one tire exploded. The car wobbled and careened but shoved through the opening without turning over.

As they smashed through, Stan saw flames leaping out of the doorway. A gaping hole in the wall, revealed by the fire, showed where one grenade had done its work. They had charged ahead only a few hundred yards and were not clear of the driveway when they saw ahead of them a small tank and two trucks. Men on foot swarmed beside the vehicle. With a roar the whole driveway ahead burst into action. The careening car had been sighted. Arno twisted the wheel and they plunged through a hedge and down a steep bank where the car came to halt with its radiator smashed against the trunk of a tree.

“Get the tommy-guns and grenades,” Stan snapped. “Get Tony out!”

Tony was already out. “I have the wound plugged,” he said in a weak voice. “I’ll manage.”

“We’ll help you along,” Stan said. “You lead the way, Arno.”

“I know best how to get out of here. I was here more than Arno,” Tony said. “I’ll lead you.”

“Give him a hand, Arno,” Stan said. “They’re coming through the hedge up above.”

Allison and Stan opened up on a group of Germans breaking through the hedge above. Their gunfire drove the Germans back and allowed Arno and the general time to get Tony up the bank and into the woods.

Whirling, they ran up the bank and overtook the three who were waiting for them.

“Where to now?” Stan asked.

“We have to stay in the woods and keep moving. Near the top of the ridge we’ll find a small lake. There are a number of small huts up there. We can hide in one of them.” Arno spoke quickly.

“But they’ll search every foot of the woods and every hut,” Allison objected.

“They do a very good job of hunting down escaped men,” Stan agreed.

“We might fool them if we hide in the Sachetti villa. They would never think of looking for us there,” Tony said.

“An excellent idea, but how can we get in without being discovered?” the general asked.

“There’s an outside air shaft leading down into the cellars. It is covered with vines and there is a tree growing beside it,” Tony said. “I used to be able to slide down that shaft.”

“A good idea,” Stan said. He was beginning to realize that Tony would not be able to travel very far or very fast. “Let’s get going.”

“See, they are making a circle around the woods,” Tony said.

Lights were flashing above and below them. But the Germans did not seem to think it necessary to throw a line between the woods and the house. Arno and General Bolero helped Tony. Stan and Allison brought up the rear. They moved through the trees and across a garden thickly planted with shrubbery and grapevines.

Behind them the woods were filled with German soldiers. The searchers had fanned out into the valley below and upon the hills above the villa.

“Here is the shaft,” Tony said as they halted in the black darkness under a tree.

Stan could see nothing that looked like a shaft or like the roof of a wine cellar.

“We must be careful not to disturb the vines or the bushes.” Tony laughed softly. “Mr. Sachetti went to a great deal of trouble in hiding the cellar and the shaft. He said they ruined the beauty of his garden.” Tony was pushing aside bushes as he spoke. Finally he called very softly. “Come now.”

The raiders moved under the spreading branches of the tree and from there they crawled under a leafy vine. They found an open shaft with a high metal cone over it. Tony and Arno went down first. When the general tried it he had trouble squeezing down the shaft. Stan was the last to slip through. He lowered the guns and grenades to Allison before he descended. Sliding down he found himself in total darkness.

“Now we have to hide. The Germans will be coming down here often for wine.” Tony spoke eagerly. “We’ll hide behind the vats containing the new crop of grapes. The Germans will drink only the old wines. They are on this side.”

Feeling their way they located a row of huge barrels and crawled in behind them. Stan and Allison located themselves near the outside barrel.

“We can hear the doors open when anyone comes down here,” Tony said. “The hinges are rusty and will squeak loudly.”

“How about dressing your wound now, Tony?” General Bolero suggested. “I will tend to it myself.”

The creaking hinges of the wine cellar door served as a warning signal to the hiding men behind the wine casks. Every time a German orderly was sent for wine they knew he was coming before he had even entered the short passageway leading into the main room. Usually the men were sent in pairs, sometimes three or four came. The men always had liberal samples of the wine before filling the decanters for the officers.