When he was finished laying out his concept for the operation they were about to undertake, Andrew Fretello looked up from the map he had been using to brief the three officers gathered around him. After studying the rudimentary graphics Fretello had used to outline his plan, each of those officers leaned back and looked over at him.
Hector Allons was the first to speak. "I do not expect it to take more than ten minutes for my people to place the charge, lay the wife, and be ready to execute the demolitions once you give us the word to go."
Fretello gave the legionnaire a nod. "Good. I hope you can cut down on that some, but I am not by any means rushing you."
"My only concern," the Spaniard continued, "is with the other teams. Once we have neutralized the opposition, I see no need for the English to remain in their positions. I am confident that any Russian who has survived to that point and is foolish enough to attempt to interfere with my demolitions party will be quickly taken out by one of my own men."
"I have no doubts about the ability of your men," Fretello was quick to reply. "It's just that I don't want anything left to chance. Since there will be nothing for Captain Hogg's command to do while your men are out there preparing the site for destruction, I would just as soon leave them in place and cover you." Turning to Hogg, Fretello asked if he had a problem with that.
The SAS captain shook his head. "I see none. Since my lads have to be someplace, staying where they are and covering the legionnaires makes perfect sense to me."
Seeing that he was fighting a loosing battle, Allons shrugged. "Then I guess it is decided." Turning to the Irish captain, the Spanish legionnaire offered him some advice. "Please tell your lads that when they see my men are done and taking to their heels, it would not be advisable to wait around too long before doing so themselves. Otherwise, if the oversized charge my sergeant has prepared does not get them, the secondary explosion that will follow when the rocket blows up will."
After giving Fretello a wink, Hogg looked back at Allons. "No need to worry about my lads. Though there's a good case to support the notion that those who choose to join the SAS are a bit daft, no one has ever accused us of being stupid."
For the first time that day, the leaders of Fretello's small command were able to share a bit of laughter. "Anyone else have a question or comment?" the American major asked as he prepared to leave. By the time he was on his feet, the others were also up and prepared to go their separate ways. "If that's the case," Fretello concluded, looking over at the leader of the American contingent, "since you have the farthest to go, Captain Haynes, you will move out first. Do so as soon as you're ready. The others will key their departure accordingly, with Captain Hogg and his men going next."
"That leaves the Legion bringing up the rear, as always," Allons added.
Again Hogg turned to Fretello and gave the American a sly wink. "Well, I've always said it's a good idea to save the best for last."
With every detail he could think of addressed and his plan about to be set in motion, Andrew Fretello fell something akin to optimism for the first time that day. Using the reaction of the other officers to his concept and their mood as a gauge, the young major was confident that all would turn out well. Now all that remained for him to do was to oversee the deployment of the various elements, give the word to initiate the attack, and let his men do what they were trained to do.
The scene that greeted Adjutant Hector Allons when he returned to where his legionnaires had halted was not what he had hoped to find. Behind the thin skirmish line of men facing out of their small laager and in a spot hidden from view sat Stanislaus Dombrowski, madly fidgeting with the shaped charge.
Stopping short, Allons' shoulders slumped. "Please tell me that you are finishing up and simply putting the damned thing back together."
The Polish legionnaire didn't answer. Franz Ingelmann, who was off to one side making a circuit check on a spool of wire, stopped what he was doing. After looking over at his companion, he answered his team commander's question with nothing more than a pained, sorrowful expression. Allons glanced at his watch before looking back over his shoulder, noting that the Americans were already on the move. Realizing that time was fast running out, he made his way over to Dombrowski and squatted next to him as he prepared to find out just how bad things were.
Knowing what was coming, the Pole stopped what he was doing, leaned back, lifted his frozen fingers to his lips and blew in an effort to warm them. When some feeling had been restored, he rubbed his hands together. "Damned cold," he mumbled as he continued to stare at the tangle of wires he had been working on, half ignoring his commander, half preparing him for the bad news.
Though Allons was a patient man, time was not on his side. "Can you get this thing to work?"
Shrugging, Dombrowski considered the question as he continued to eye the demolition charge. Finally, not seeing a solution to the problem, he looked over at Allons. "If the question is can we make an explosion, the answer is yes. But if you want to know whether or not the shaped charge will function as we want it to, well…"
Unable to bear Dombrowski's disappointed expression, Allons looked over at the charge. "One would think that something as simple and robust as that would have withstood the knocking about it look during the landing better than it did."
The memory of their last jump and the image of Captain Jules Pascal's shattered body caused Dombrowski to shudder. "As tough as we would like to think we are," he said mournfully, turning to look back at his damaged device, "there are things that even the best of us are unable to endure."
Though the true meaning of his NCO's comment escaped him, Allons nodded in agreement. "Oui, that is very true." Then, using the best authoritarian voice that he could manage under the circumstances, he attempted to reassert himself. "You must find a way, my friend, to make this thing work. The American charge is in worse shape than ours. The liner and high explosives have become separated. When they unwrapped it from its packing, everything just broke up and fell away. Though they tried, their captain said they would not be able to repack the chucks of explosives like they were." With a sigh, Allons shook his head. "I only wish I hadn't switched this charge with the one you had brought along back at the other silo."
Dombrowski grunted. "You did the right thing then. This," he said as he waved his hat at the tangled wires, "is not your fault."
"It was the riggers, you know," Ingelmann stated. "They never use enough padding."
If the Austrian's comment had been an effort to absolve Dombrowski of responsibility for the problem and ease the frustration that was building, it failed miserably. Angered by his inability to correct the problem, the Pole threw down the needle-nosed piles he had been holding. "What the hell difference does it make whose fault it is that this piece of shit won't work!"
Both Ingelmann and Allons recoiled as much from this sudden outburst as from an effort to avoid the piles as they ricocheted off the metal framework of the demo charge. After waiting a moment for his NCO to collect himself, Allons reached over and placed his hand on Dombrowski's shoulder. "Do the best you can. We still have a bit of time."
Added to his already considerable frustration, the big Pole now felt an acute sense of embarrassment over having lost his temper. Without bothering to look up at Allons, he nodded as he turned to search for the needle-nosed pliers he had thrown.
Chapter 22