Part 43 (1/2)
”What's Vis?” Freddy Janos asked.
Fine and Dougla.s.s looked at each other before Fine answered, ”An island in the Adriatic. Where we will pick you up when this operation is over.”
”Pick us up? We're not going to stay?”
”No,” Fine said. ”It has been decided to bring you out right away.”
”Can I ask why?”
”You can ask, but I can't tell you,” Fine said.
”I must be out of my mind,” Janos said. ”But that sort of p.i.s.ses me off.”
”Jesus, that's all we need, a hero,” Dougla.s.s said.
Janos felt his face turn warm with anger. With an effort, he fought it down by telling himself that Dougla.s.s, by any criterion, was a hero, and thus had the right to mock the word.
”I guess that sounded pretty dumb,” he said.
”Yes, it did,” Dougla.s.s said, not backing off. ”I just hope you can restrain your heroic impulses when you do get in there, and that you do just what you're told, and nothing more.”
They locked eyes for a moment. Janos, for the first time, saw that Dougla.s.s could have very cold and calculating eyes. And he sensed suddenly that Dougla.s.s was judging him, and that if Dougla.s.s found him wanting-if Dougla.s.s concluded that there was a risk he would foolishly take once he was in Hungary-there was a good chance he would be left behind.
”Can a Gooney Bird land on this island?” Janos asked.
There was no response from Dougla.s.s. He continued to look at Janos with cold, calculating eyes.
”What the h.e.l.l,” Dougla.s.s said finally. There was even the flicker of a smile. ”When all the clever ideas fail, be desperate. Go by the book. Use a parachutist-dropping airplane to drop parachutists.”
”Can we get our hands on a C-47?” Janos asked.
”Yes,” Fine said, almost impatiently. He had seen a dozen of the twin-engine transports sitting on the field. There would probably be one they could have simply by asking for it. And if there was a problem, one would have to be ”diverted from other missions.” The OSS had the ultimate priority. ”But does a C-47 have the range?”
”I don't think it does,” Dougla.s.s said. ”I'm not even sure it will make it to Hungary. There's no way one of them could make it to Pecs and then to Vis.”
”Where's Darmstadter?” Fine asked. ”He ought to know.”
”He and Dolan are checking the weather,” Dougla.s.s said.
”What's the priority?” Fine asked rhetorically.
”To get Janos's team on the ground in one piece,” Dougla.s.s said.
”We could . . . ,” Fine began. ”I don't know what I'm talking about, and I won't until I know just what the Gooney Bird can do.”
”Well,” Dougla.s.s said, nodding toward a small door in one of the wide hangar doors where an MP, armed with a Thompson submachine gun, was checking the identification of Lt. Commander John Dolan, USNR, Lt. Henry Darmstadter, and Ernest J. Wilkins, ”here comes the expert. ”
”Well,” Wilkins said, cheerfully confident, as he walked up to them. ”G.o.d loves us, apparently. The immediate and twenty-four-hour weather over the drop zone is going to be perfect.”
Dougla.s.s laughed nastily.
”Darmstadter,” Fine asked. ”What's the range of a Gooney Bird? Would a Gooney Bird make it one way to Pecs?”
”No,” Darmstadter said immediately.
”What's wrong with the B-25?” Dolan asked.
”Canidy has cleverly modified the B-25 so that you can't drop parachutists from it,” Dougla.s.s said, ”or at least not a team of them, without scattering them all over Hungary. ”
”Good G.o.d!” Wilkins said.
”And we can't put the 17 into Vis,” Dolan said.
”Right,” Fine said.
”Jesus, now what?” Dougla.s.s asked. ”Canidy expects us at daybreak.”
”So we use the B-17 for the drop,” Dolan said. ”And it comes back here. And we send the B-25 to Vis. No problem. ”
”No,” Wilkins said.
”What do you mean, 'no'?” Fine asked.
”Maintenance found landing-gear problems,” he said. ”They called me and told me it would take twenty-four hours, maybe a little more, to replace what was broken.”
”Then you'll have to get us another 17,” Fine said.
”There will be a lot of questions asked why someone wants to borrow a bomber,” Wilkins said.
Darmstadter's mind had been racing. He thought he saw a solution. But he was reluctant to offer it. These people, These people, he told himself, he told himself, know what they're doing. I'm just a mediocre Gooney Bird pilot. know what they're doing. I'm just a mediocre Gooney Bird pilot.
And then he thought, f.u.c.k it! f.u.c.k it!
”If there would be only the team, five men, on the Gooney Bird,” he said, ”it would be very light. It would take another ton and a half, maybe two, before it got close to Max Over Gross.”
”If you're talking about fuel,” Dolan said, not unkindly, ”we just don't have time to rig auxiliary fuel tanks.”
”I'm talking about fifty-five-gallon drums,” Darmstadter plunged on, ”and hand pumps to replenish the fuel in the main tanks as it's burned off.”
”Hey!” Dolan said after a moment's thought.
”Would that work, John?” Fine asked.
”Eight fifty-five-gallon drums would weigh thirty-two hundred pounds,” Dolan said. ”A little over a ton and a half. And that would be another four hundred gallons. More than enough to get a Gooney Bird from here to Pecs, and then to Vis.”
”And you can get a Gooney Bird into Vis?” Dougla.s.s said.