part 2
Reynolds leaned forward and pressed the button on the intercom. "Yes, Sergeant, what is it?"
"I've just had a message from records, sir. Someone's requested Lieutenant Garrisons file."
They'd considered the possibility that the files would be checked, but not openly. Reynolds brow furrowed, what in the devil could this mean? "And who put in that request Sergeant?"
"Major General Wilford Patrick, sir."
The Colonel drummed his fingers on the desk. Staring down at the message Actor had sent through on another man named Patrick. Reynolds tried to come up with a valid reason the General might need Garrisons' records before he answered. "Send out the modified file Sergeant, and ring through to General Fremont"
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"Gentlemen, this is Lieutenant Garrison. He's been sent up here so we can pick his brains." Colonel Husoe waited for the smattering of laughter to die down. "He's been on the ground over there, and the big wigs thought getting his perspective might help us hit those targets we've been missing." There wasn't a mission on but Husoe wanted the group to get a chance to meet this young man. He'd heard about Captain Patrick's visit to Major Lindmann too, and wanted to give the young officer a chance to air that, if he wanted to. He was actually kind of interested in how he'd handle that. "He's also a qualified pilot, but I guess he's developed some sort of bizarre fondness for blisters, because he chooses to remain on the ground." Turning to the young man who sat just behind him he asked. "Would you care to explain yourself, Lieutenant?"
Garrison stood as the Colonel took his seat. "I don't think I can, sir," that earned him a bit of laughter from the crowd, "but I'll answer any questions if anyone has any."
"What're you doing on the ground over there, Lieutenant, you one a those cloak and dagger types?"
"Well, I suppose I wouldn't be able to tell you if I was, but no Lieutenant, I was raised in Germany until I was thirteen. We did a fair amount of traveling then, and I got a chance to go back right before the war started." Right to the point, that question came from Lieutenant Andrew Crossman who was sitting right next to Captain Patrick. The young man was stocky, blonde, and had the arrogant sneer Garrison had seen all too often clothed in an SS uniform.
"You sure you're not a spy, Lieutenant? I understand you speak real good Kraut." Patrick crossed his arms on his chest and glanced at the small group of young men that sat around him.
"I'm sure Captain. And yes I speak German, you'll find a lot of us in the service do. If you scare me awake in the middle of the night you might hear some of it, and my men'll tell you if you make me mad enough I sure know how to swear in it. It's been an advantage to know on more than one occasion, especially on the ground." Thank you Captain Virgil Patrick, he thought, at least I won't have to wait for you to spread it around through the rumor mill.
"So how do you think you'll be able to help us hit our targets?" The young man sitting in the front row had that , here's another know-it-all-expert look on his face.
"I don't claim that I can, but I can tell you what the territory those aerial photos show is really like on the ground. How deep the valleys are, which way the prevailing winds blow. That sort of thing. I guess I'm not the only one they've sent out, there are others on other bases, and there will be other people, people who lived over there, coming to talk to you. I was available though, and I think the brass figured that since I'm a pilot we'd speak the same language. So I'm it, until your real experts' get in here."
"How come you're available, Garrison? You run away from your last command?"
Patrick again. He heard Colonel Husoe shift in his seat and start to growl a warning but cut him off with his answer. "I'm just off medical leave, Captain. As soon as I finish up here I'll be reassigned." The muttering from most of the men in the room told him Patrick was not well liked and didn't have the following he probably thought he had, just the little knot that sat around him, probably the same men who were in the pub the other day.
"Alright, gentlemen." Husoe got up from his chair and stepped in front of Garrison. "This is all informal. The maps and photos are going to be available for you whenever you like, so if you have questions for our friend here, Major Lindmann will get you what you need. And, as rank has it privilege I'm taking him first. Dismissed." As the men stood to leave he called over their heads. "Captain Patrick, I'll want you in my office at Oh seven-hundred."
They waited for the room to clear and then Husoe motioned Garrison to follow him. Nothing was said as they crossed over to the Colonels' office through the thick fog that had descended on the base that afternoon, but as soon as the door was closed the man turned. "Sorry about him. I inherited him when I took this place over. He's a jerk but he's a good pilot."
Garrison smiled back, "Yes, sir. And his daddy's a general."
Husoe hung his head and laughed. "Yeah! Well there is that." Crossing the office he opened a cabinet, pulled out two glasses and tipped a measure of clear liquid from a decanter into both . Handing one to the Lieutenant he cautioned. "Watch out for this stuff, it's wicked," before taking a sip and sliding into the chair behind his desk. He looked up and studied the man that had taken the chair opposite him and wondered what he was really doing up here on his base... "If it makes you feel any better Lieutenant, my folks are Norwegian and he doesn't like me either. How'd you know about his father?"
Garrison took a sip from the glass and shrugged as the liquor burned it's way down his throat, when he could breathe again he answered. "Patrick was ahead of me at West Point."
The Colonel grimaced. "That must have been a great experience. How far ahead."
"Two years, sir." His voice was slightly hoarse, and he coughed a bit on the last word, Husoe didn't seem to notice.
"Well, at least you didn't have to go the whole way with him. That's something anyway. And son, when you're drinking with me, you don't have to call me sir."
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Casino and Chief had been on base almost three days and still didn't have a lead on how Mitchell had gotten the information that had been found on him. Of course they could only get so far asking questions about 'that guy that bought it in the car wreck'. Mitchell, from what they could find out, was well thought of, even if he wasn't very out going. He'd worked over in the meteorology section, was good at his job, and had only been on base two months before his death. The only trouble he got in, if it could even be counted as trouble, was the gambling. He was a regular and usually broke even, until the last game. He'd lost all his money in that one.
Garrison had been hampered by the almost constant presence of Patrick or one of his cronies since he'd arrived on the base. It seemed wherever he went one of them was somewhere in the vicinity, watching. It was making it impossible to communicate with the other two. The weather had been lousy over the channel too. That left the pilots and flight crews free to ask him for information about the places they'd been trying to hit. No one questioned him too closely on when he'd been in the area they were interested in and he didn't volunteer that. Depending on the target, it may have been only a matter of weeks or months since he'd been on the ground near or even in the objective.
He'd wandered out to the field that fronted the hangers to watch some of the men play ball. There was a keen rivalry between the motor pool and the guard detail, and the game had just ended with the motor pool up by two runs thanks to their newest member. He waited for the crowd to thin out so he could congratulate the young man. "Looks like you could have a job after all this is over... You're good."
"Hey! I thought you said you never played ball, kid."
Chief shook his head. "I never said that, Pappy. I said I didn't like to play."
"How can you not like to play when you'r so damn good at it." Casino's voice held a note of disgust. "I should a known from the darts you'd be able to hit the ball,,, but so far!"
"You loose some money Casino?" The younger man asked in amusement.
"Well a course I lost money!" he grouched. "I could hardly bet against my own team, could I?"
The crowd was gone, the men heading to the mess tent for the evening meal, and they were left alone in the shade of a large storage building. Garrison scanned the area for his constant companion and found him lounging against one of the fuel tankers. He could watch them all he wanted, at least he was far enough away that he couldn't over hear them. "We need to come up with a way to meet that won't disturb my shadow too much. Any ideas?"
"Well, some of the guys run, out here around the fence line or along the runway." Chief ran on the estate and so did Garrison. When the Warden's schedule allowed it they ran together to stay in condition, there was an undercurrent of competitiveness in those runs. "I even seen some officer types out here. 'Course it's all flat" he added with a hint of a smile. "Not much of a challenge."
'OK, you're on. First thing in the morning. You can pass any information along to Casino when you see him in the barracks." He'd been toying with the ball and tossed it back to Chief as he turned to go. "It was a good game. I better not hang around here. I don't want to get them suspicious of you two. See you in the morning."
They waited for Garrison to move off, watching as his shadow fell in behind him, before they started across the compound to the mess tent. Casino turned to Chief and raised a questioning eyebrow. "There's gonna be another game tomorrow. You wouldn't wanna put a bet down for me, would ya?"
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Chief had been out for about fifteen minutes before the Warden showed up and started to warm up for his run. He decided to sprint to the end of the run way and pick him up on the way back. He came abreast of Garrison just as he was passing the control tower and fell into step with him. "Don't see your friends anywhere, you give 'em the slip?"
"I don't think they have anyone posted on my door. Once they find out I'm into early morning exercise we might have some company."
"That guy yesterday didn't look like he was really into this kinda thing. He looked a little soft." Chief had slowed a little to pick Garrison up, and he was puzzled that they hadn't picked up the pace. Even at a decent speed back on the estate they'd been able to talk, the rhythm of their foot steps and the fact that they were concentrating on the ground ahead had made it easier, especially for him, and he'd found himself telling the Warden things, stuff he'd never told the other guys. This was bothering him, compared to their normal speed they were practically walking. "You OK, Lieutenant?"
"I'm supposed to be slow, I just came off medical leave, remember?"
"Yeah?" Chief shot a look at the other man along his shoulder. "Well your actin's getting better, you don't look so good," and he slowed down a little bit more.
Garrison chose to ignore the observation. "What did you guys find out about Mitchell?" As he listened to the meager facts they'd managed to gather together he found he was struggling a bit to keep up with the young man. When he'd heard all they had found out the next question came out short, clipped. "Just gambling?"
"S'the only thing we've come up with so far. Even that's not really out a line for this place."
"Win or lose?"
"Little a both." The young man shrugged as they continued along. "Last game he lost big. Seems he had to take a loan to get him through to pay day."
"Who?"
"Dunno. Could be a money man on base. Could a just been a friend."
They'd finally reached the end of the strip and had turned back to retrace their steps. "Officers allowed?"
"Sure,,, the younger ones. The guys like to take officer money." They were slowin' down a little more and the Warden didn't seem to be keepin' a straight line. It took a little while for the next question to come.
"Get me in?"
Chief frowned over at the Lieutenant, he was really startin' to sweat. He didn't think anybody could fake that, not even Actor. "Don't see why not. They play in the storeroom off the motor pool. Everybody knows it. Guess as long as the game's honest the MP's just let it go."
"When?"
"Every night there's no mission in the morning. This lousy weather they'll be in there tonight, startin' 'bout six. Things really get rollin' after chow. That was one thing that made Mitchell a little bit popular. He could tell 'em if they could plan a game for the next night or not." The Warden finally pulled up and when Chief turned he caught him holding his side. "You OK?"
"Cramp. Have to walk it off. I'll see you tonight." When he looked up he waved the younger man on, "Go on. I'll be fine," and watched as he jogged off towards the mess tent. After pacing off fifty yards or so, and retracing his steps, he headed back towards his quarters and the showers. He wasn't hungry anyway, and with everyone else at their meal he'd have a clear shot at what was left of the hot water.
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"This is the place, Lieutenant. Step right in and be prepared to part with your money."
There was a fairly good crowd gathered in around the makeshift tables. Poker could be set up any where, but they'd taken pains with the craps table. Some one had taken the time to frame up a board and it rested on four jacks, a level lay under the table. The click of dice could be heard, followed by the crowing of the man who'd just made his point. Chief had been right, there were younger officers scattered through the crowd. Garrison leaned in a corner and watched for a while, Casino was already winning at the table near him. He'd only been in the room five minutes or so before the man who'd been tailing him all day arrived.
One of the men that was sitting at Casino's table tossed his cards down with a laugh and declared he was finally going to leave a winner, even if it was only two dollars, before collecting his pot and bowing out with a smile and a wave. Casino looked in Garrison's direction expectantly, and asked. "You want in on this Lieutenant?"
"Sure. I'll give it a try." He was introduced to the others at the table, first names or nick names only, as he settled into the chair. The house rules were explained and they got down to playing. They stayed at it most of the evening, Patricks' man quickly contributing the money he had in his pockets to Garrison's winnings before leaving in disgust,,, the man couldn't bluff. As the game broke up Casino lingered to congratulate him.
"Not bad Lieutenant." As the last man left the building he stepped in close and lowered his voice. "I never knew they had riverboat gambling in Germany! Where'd you learn to play like that?"
"I had to put myself through school somehow Casino."
The east coast thief threw him a skeptical look. "I didn't think you had to pay to go to West Point."
"Pocket money then." Garrison laughed
"Just remind me not to sit down with you... I'll have to stick to pool to get your money."
The Warden smothered a smile, geometry had always been one of his favorite subjects. "You get the names of the guys that were here tonight?"
"Yeah, most of them. First names anyway." Casino'd already started writing a list. The plan was to get the information out to Goniff and Actor, and through them on to Reynolds and see if they could turn anything on the players while they found out what they did on base, and if they'd had any particular contact with Mitchell. "You really think this is gonna help?"
"I don't know, but it's the only thing we have right now." Reaching out to take the finished document from the safecrackers' hand Garrison scanned it, adding a last name or rank where he could, and jotting down a quick description of the men he remembered. "Alright, I need to get through that fence. You find a spot yet?"
"Oh Yeah! I got a nice little section all ready for you. There's a place just behind the building here where there are some low bushes right up to the fence. Not enough to block the view, but it's good enough to hide the opening I managed to cut into it last night. You'll have to go a ways on your belly to get to the trees, then it's about three miles straight through to town."
"So you were on the fence line last night, and you're on again tonight? Sergeants usually reserve walking the fence on third shift for a punishment duty." Garrison remembered Chief joking with Casino about already being in trouble. "What'd you do to deserve this?"
"Aw, nothin'!... Honest Warden I didn't know I was gonna be assigned to work with the guy..." There was a glint of laughter in his eye and his mouth was twitching up in a smile. "I cleaned the Sergeant out playin' poker the first night we got here. I don't think he's forgiven me yet."
Garrison just managed to stifle a laugh. "Well I hope it was an honest game. I don't want him getting wise to your tricks, you might have to use them later to keep on his bad side. This duty you've drawn might prove to be pretty useful to us." He checked his watch and continued. "OK I'll meet you back here in ninety minutes. That'll give the base a chance to settle down and it'll still leave me enough time to make it into town and back. Husoe's taking his plane up in the morning, and I got invited to go along."
"What! I thought the weather was keeping everything on the ground."
"It is, but I think our Colonel is a bit of a hot shot. Flies his own recon, stuff like that. I also think that new radar unit is probably mounted in his bird."
"There's gonna be fighters along to protect the plane then, right?"
"No, he's taking it up solo."
"But that's nuts!" Casino stared at the Warden. "What if you guys get shot down? That's just like handin' the damn radar system over to the Krauts!"
"Don't worry Casino" Garrison patted the worried man on the shoulder as he turned to leave. "There's probably enough explosives packed in that plane that nothing'll be left of it if we get shot down or have to ditch."
"Oh now, that's reassuring." He called after Garrison as he watched him walk away towards his quarters, jabbing first at the Lieutenant's retreating back and then at the ground. "All you guys are crazy, ya know! When this thing is over my feet are never leavin' the ground again. I'm not even goin' up in an elevator after we get through this!"
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He'd managed the run into town and had waited fifteen long minutes on the outskirts while he caught his breath. Damn cramps anyway. As soon has he could stand up straight and breathe quietly he made his way to the pub. It was quiet tonight, just the locals, the dark wool sweater and work pants he wore allowed him to blend right in. Actor was sipping wine at the table in the corner, and Goniff was leaning on the bar talking to a man who, judging by his dress, must have had a small business somewhere close by. The cockney thief smiled and nodded in Garrison's direction as he stepped up to the bar but stayed with his man, the conversation ending with both of them laughing. He topped the mans' drink up from the pitcher under the counter and then moved down to serve the newcomer.
"What can I get'cha, mate?" As he turned his 'good' ear toward the customer to hear his order his face turned away from the others that stood talking while they leaned against the bar, and he said under his breath. "We was wonderin' if one a you guy's would make it in here. What's up?"
"I'll have a pint." When Garrison leaned forward to pick up the glass Goniff reached across the bar to wipe at the far edge. "We have a list of names for you to check out. Meet me up in Actor's room," he said quietly before turning to move off towards the stairs.
Goniff launched a shout at his back. "That's right mate, up the stairs and then down to the right'll take you to the facilities."
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"Have you been able to find anything in our guys' file?" They were huddled around the table in Actor's room. The window was open, but the heavy blackout drapes had been pulled and cut off the air, leaving the room stuffy and warm.
"Nothing that seems to be a good enough reason for him to become a traitor. He was only on the base two months before he was killed. He didn't seem to be in any trouble. There are no complaints about him in any of the reports in his file. I haven't found anything in his background that would suggest he might be easily blackmailed into doing something like this."
"He was into gambling on base. Here's a list of the men who were at the game tonight. We need to see if there's anything on any of them, any connection to Mitchell, so get it out to Reynolds as soon as you can. Actor, we need to find out if there's a local gambling den around here."
"That isn't a problem Warden, Goniff already found it." Actor frowned over at the little cat burglar. He'd been totally ignored when he reminded him that their orders were to stay put and stay out of trouble. Getting the job in the pub had been a stroke of luck but when the little man told him he'd been invited to participate in the gaming...
"What!" Garrison rounded on the wiry little thief.
"Well, there's not much for a bloke to do around these parts..." Goniff started to stammer out his reasons while he wracked his brain for a defense.
He couldn't believe it, he was so surprised and pleased at having the information he wanted Garrison forgot the orders he'd left them. "Goniff! Where is it? Who runs it?"
"There's a basement in the pub, they got tables set up down there, Frank runs it. Seems friendly enough, just some locals gettin' together for a pint and a little fun after hours every night...there's probably a few of 'em down there now." Goniff saw the look in the Wardens' eye and was going to exploit it.
"Any of the men from the base in on it?" It wouldn't be of any use to him if it was a strictly local affair.
"Sure," the little man was really beginning to relax. This was just what the Lieutenant wanted to hear, he could tell from the look on his face. "Who'd ya think's got all the money round here?"
Actor frowned and looked from one to the other, this wasn't exactly the response he'd expected from their commander when he found out he'd been disobeyed. "What's going on?"
"That guy lost a bundle before he was killed." Garrison told them.
"You think they set him up for money?" Men had been drawn into all manner of things to pay back debits, or to 'strike it rich'. Actor had used that type of scheme himself
Garrison turned and looked at the older man. "Or just found out about him that way? I don't know, but we don't have anything else. Goniff I need you to find out if our man was in on this friendly little local game."
"Oh he was," the little cat burglar shrugged and sat back with a smile.
The Warden narrowed his eyes, considering him. "How'd you know that?"
"Blimey! I just asked. You guys ain't the only ones can come up with a con y'know?!" And then he smiled, remembering his own cleverness, and told them. "I just told it around that my cousin'd gone sweet on a bloke that worked off the base up here, and when she found out I was headed up here I was to ask after him, that's all." He'd found the locals ready to talk, especially the women. Unrequited love, and a tragic accident... it was just the thing to get them going.
"Can you get me into the game?"
"Shouldn't be a problem" Goniff shrugged. "Just be in the pub and start askin' nicely. I should be able to get you down there."
"So, you are going to set up a major loss and see if they take the bait?"
"I don't know yet." They'd still be looking for leads, any other reason Mitchell had decided to turn on his country and sell it's secrets. The Warden got up and checked his watch again. It had taken him longer to make it into town than he'd expected, he was going to have to cut this short. "I've got to get back in there before Casino's rotated off duty. I don't know when I'll be able to get off base, officially, but if it's a nightly game it shouldn't matter." He laid his hand lightly on the little burglar's shoulder and waited for the man to smile up at him expectantly. "Goniff, if I didn't really need the information you gave me just now, you'd be in so much trouble." He gave the man a friendly pat, and left him to worry about his future.
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Visibility allowed them to see just past the trees that hemmed the runway on all sides, but as soon as they were off the ground and away from the field the fog pressed in on them, throwing itself against the windscreen as rain as they flew through it. Against all logic the weather cleared a bit over the channel, and they could make out a few hardy, or desperate, fishing boats below. It was patchy along the coast but the Colonel and his crew were confident in their course. It seemed this wasn't the first time they'd done this. Garrison wondered what the flights intension was. The bomb bay was empty, so it must either be a recon mission, or a test of the radar system, or both.
The weather they were flying through kept fighters on the ground, but didn't stop flak from being fired aloft. As soon as they passed within range of the guns they started to hear it and feel the plane shudder through the turbulence surrounding the explosions. The crew called out the elevation of the bursts, and the planes course and altitude was quickly adjusted to avoid them. They spent forty minutes playing target for the gunners down below before they'd met their objective. As they turned for home the wind came up, shredding the fog and clouds away into a clear blue sky. Things were about to get interesting. Husoe dove for the deck and ran for home but the fighters had been scrambled and they were on them. The radioman fired off their position and the men requested permission to clear their guns.
The planes intercom fell silent as they waited, then the tail gunner reported. "They're comin' up behind us Colonel. Two flights. Four o'clock low, and seven o'clock level."
"Alright fellas, we've still got some time before we're back in range of our fighters and we out run Jerries fuel. I'll find us a nice thick fog bank as soon as I can." That fog bank Husoe would be looking for was going to keep their fighters on the ground, they all knew it. They were on their own.
With the first pass all hell broke loose. Garrison didn't think he'd ever heard so much noise, not even in a mortar barrage. There was almost constant traffic on the intercom as the crew warned of the enemy fighter positions, whooping and calling out congratulations on hits. It was like being a target in a arcade shooting gallery complete with the pinging sound of bullets raking the aircraft, and the spent shells ejecting from the crews guns hitting the floor. He could see two planes dive in on them from the right, firing as they came, then swinging away below them. The move proved deadly for one pilot as his craft plowed into the sea and cart wheeled before exploding beneath them.
As another fighter made a pass and raked the plane's side everything seemed to happen at once. The starboard waist gunner fell, acrid smoke billowed from the radio compartment, the radioman yelled in pain, twisting out of his seat to sprawl onto the floor, and the turret gunner dropped down the ladder to snatch up the fire extinguisher. Garrison moved to help the injured gunner and was waved away with a curt instruction from the young man to "Get on the gun!"
"Sergeant! How bad are we hit?" Husoe's voice was calm as it came over the intercom, settling his crew.
"Harris and Walters are down, sir." The turret gunner reported. "And they took out the radio. It's had it."
"Alright. Get someone on that starboard gun!"
"It's already covered, sir. That advisor guy's on it."
The feel was a little like a tank mounted machine gun, but the mobility and the speed of the target was throwing him. A shout from the man on the floor adjusted Garrisons' thinking.
"You gotta imagine where they're gonna be, sir and aim there!"
He watched the fighter come in, plotted its course in his head and squeezed down on the firing mechanism. The tracers led him right in to the target and he turned to concentrate on the next one as it headed towards them. Time seemed to slow down, Garrison wouldn't have been able to tell how long they were harassed by the fighters. It seemed like hours before the fog folded them in a protective embrace, the guns finally fell silent and they could see to their wounded. The radio had been blasted and some of the instruments, but the radar was still working. They knew when they'd passed over the English coast, and all of them started praying the weather would break again and let them see where they were.
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The men on base gravitated to the control tower. They all knew the Colonel was out there somewhere. Only the tower personnel knew he was out there with no radio. They'd lost him in the middle of a transmission. They did know the plane was headed back and was under attack. The position and speed had been plotted from that call, and their arrival time computed... Chief had been on the field, and watched them take off, he was on the field now, waiting with the others, straining to catch a glimpse of the plane through the clouds and fog, listening as the radio traffic was broadcast from the tower.
"I got a single target! Bearing and speed are right." and after a tense ninety seconds another voice reporting. "Coastal spotter just called in. It's them! They're less than fifteen minutes out."
As the plane dropped down over the top of the trees and crossed the end of the run way, smoke trailing from one of the port engines, Husoe fired his flares, alerting the ground he had wounded on board. The men around the control tower scrambled into ambulances and fire trucks, rolling away from the tower and racing down the runway to be there to meet the plane as it came to a stop, leaving Chief at the mercy of his imagination. Emergency personnel came up under the plane, waiting near the hatches to evacuate the injured before the propellers even stopped spinning
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He helped lower the injured waist gunner from the plane and dropped to the ground as the young man was being loaded in the ambulance. There was a nick over Garrison's ear that sent a trail of blood down to soak into the collar of his shirt, and then a place where a piece of the plane had torn across his arm. Simple, shallow, painful and bloody, but not serious, nothing to worry about. It was a complete surprise to him when the world turned gray around him and the ground tilted. The next thing he knew he was being bundled into the back of the ambulance with the other two.
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"Just sit right there Lieutenant, I'll see if I can find a shirt for you." The injuries weren't serious, barely required treatment as far as Garrison was concerned and he was sitting on the table berating himself for his reaction when Colonel Husoe wandered in to check on him.
"They taking good care of you, Garrison?"
"Yes sir! But I could have handled this with soap, water and a bandaid back in my quarters." Garrison's tone telegraphed his disgust.
Husoe shook his head at the young officer and smiled. "Didn't look that way out on the field"
"I know." The Lieutenant ran his hand through his hair and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'm still a little embarrassed by that."
"Don't worry. You just stood still too soon after it was all over." The Colonel chuckled. "I did the same thing my first time out, and I wasn't even hurt. And like the doc just got through reminding me, you're just coming off a medical leave. I assume that wasn't for something simple like a hangnail! I have been officially advised that I was an idiot for taking you up there."
"Don't worry, sir. No lasting damage done."
"Glad to hear it. There's a car waiting outside to run you over to your quarters as soon as you're ready to go."
"I don't think that's necessary sir! Like I said..."
"What? Take the chance of you toppling over again, Lieutenant? Then we'd both be embarrassed! And I'd get another chewing out by the doctor. You just do like your told and ride." His manner was friendly, but he had just issued an order. "You probably weren't paying too much attention, but we were taking pictures while we were up there, after it cleared off. They'll be ready at thirteen-hundred if you're up to taking a look...." the Colonel called over his shoulder as he wandered off down the hall to check on the other two. "Just call for the car again if you need it."
The orderly had come up with a T shirt and scrounged a jacket for him to use and insisted on helping him get dressed. He'd managed to talk his way out of the wheelchair delivery service to the entrance of the base hospital, but wasn't surprised to see Chief lounging against the car that Husoe promised would be waiting for him.
"You OK?" Chief had managed to buttonhole one of the guys that had driven the ambulance off the field and knew the injuries weren't serious, but the Warden seemed kinda pale and sweaty to him.
"Yeah, fine"
"Casino's right. All a you guys are crazy."
Garrison shook his head and laughed as he settled down in the seat next to Chief. How could he deny it. Taking a plane loaded with experimental equipment that the Germans wanted, over German held territory, without protective cover or backup? It wasn't exactly sane behavior. He hoped Husoe had gotten what he was after.
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He wasn't hungry, but the doctor had been adamant about eating a decent meal when he'd turned him loose from the hospital. So after he'd slept a couple of hours and then gone over the flight photos with the Colonel, Garrison was doing as ordered and picking his way through a plate of food. Eating arrangements on the base weren't as formal as some other installations he'd been on. The mess hall was large, and used by both enlisted men and officers, with the senior staff holding a large table near the entrance. It looked like Husoe wanted to be accessible to his men and encourage their approach by this informal arrangement. Major Lindmann, the CO's second in command was there now, in deep conversation with one of the NCOs from the security detail. The Colonel mentioned he'd only taken the base over recently, and Garrison wondered what it had been like before, and how much trouble some of the officers might be having with this new arrangement. Virgil Patrick came immediately to mind, and he was considering how Husoe's open policy might be irritating the man when he was interrupted by a softly drawled comment.
"I'm surprised to see you here tonight, sir."
Shoving the tray away he looked up at the man that had stopped by the table. "Why's that?"
"Well, it's kind of tradition on the base. A man gets hurt they cut him a pass and let him go blow off steam for a little while."
"Corporal, this scratch hardly qualifies as 'hurt', not compared to those other guys that were up there with us." How'd this guy know he'd been hurt? He didn't remember him being on the field when they landed, or around the hospital, but he seemed familiar.
"That doesn't make any difference. As soon as the others are on their feet they'll get their time. They just haven't caught up with you yet." The man smiled and started to move away from the table but turned back a moment later. "I watched you playing cards the other night. You play smart, and you're lucky. When they come across with that pass, sir, I know a game on the outside with some real money in it, if you're interested."
"I'll keep that in mind,,,," He raised an eyebrow at the man, waiting for him to identify himself.
"Oh! Barton, sir. Corporal William Barton."
"I'll keep that in mind, Barton." He watched the man walk off and leave the mess hall. He didn't remember that name being on the list of players they were checking out, but the guy would have gone unnoticed in a crowd. Average build, average weight, average height and his hair and eye color, bordering on translucent, could have ranged anywhere from blonde to mouse brown, green to brown, it was hard to tell. Everything about him was average and nondescript. The only remarkable thing about him was the soft drawling accent, and Garrison couldn't really place that. He shoved the chair away from the table, and as he walked his tray back up to the kitchen staff he spotted Chief and Casino sitting together near the front of the hall. They'd finished their meal and had just been relaxing at the table talking, waiting in case he needed them. As he turned and headed towards the entrance they got up and timed it so they arrived at the door just as he walked through. A slight stumble and they were both at his elbows, Chief offering the use of the car again.
Casino continued to keep his hand around the Wardens' arm as they waited for the Indian to bring a car over from the motor pool. He didn't know if this was an act so they could talk or not, the guy felt sort of shaky to him, and there were too many people around the entrance to the mess hall to find out. When he spotted the jeep making its way towards them he could finally them move away to comparative privacy.
Garrison started in before he could open his mouth with a question. "Casino, I'm going through the fence again tonight, you still in trouble with the Sergeant?"
"Well, no, but it shouldn't take much to piss him off again."
"Do it! I'll meet you out there at twenty-four-hundred."
The Warden had settled firmly into command mode, he must a been play actin' Casino thought. "What if I don't get that duty?"
"I'll watch from the motor pool. If it's not you on the fence I'll just go through between rounds."
"What's up?"
The jeep had just pulled to a stop in front of them, "Get it from Chief later." As they pulled out and left Casino standing at the entrance to the mess hall Garrison turned to address his driver. "Chief, I want you and Casino to find out anything you can about William Barton."
"Alright." The young man accepted his orders quietly. "That the guy in the mess hall?"
"Yeah. He said he was at the game last night but I don't remember him, his name wasn't on the list."
"Didn't seem to be a real noticeable guy. That why you're going out tonight, just to give his name to Actor?" He didn't really need to hear the answer, Chief knew the Wardens' style by now.
"Yeah. There's something funny about him. I can't explain it, but I want to know more about him."