Read The Rat Patrol 3 - The Trojan Tank Affair for Free Online

proving ground, one of our own fighters will. Jerry will find the wreckage of the plane, parts of the jeeps. There also are some chimpanzee bones aboard which should be sufficiently convincing when they're charred." 
    "That's going out in a blaze of glory," Troy said, grinning. "We're replaced by monkeys. The Rat Patrol is kaput."
    "Only temporarily," Major Blakely assured him, shooting his wrist from his sleeve and glancing at his watch. "Now, this transport will taxi to the end of the runway and rev up the motors for takeoff. There will be a brief power outage and all the airfield lights will go off for five seconds. A fire fighting unit has been stationed off the end of the runway for the past five days. It's a dummy. The tank is empty and there's a hatch at the end where you can climb in. Get out of the transport and into the tank during those five seconds. As soon as the C-46 has taken off, a B-25 will taxi to the end of the runway and again there will be a five-second power failure. You are to board the B-25. It will fly you to Benghazi where your scheduled arrival is oh-five hundred, about one hour before dawn. A six-by-six covered truck will be awaiting you at the end of the landing strip and you will take immediate cover in that truck. The truck will join a convoy for Bir-el-Alam. Your truck and two other supply trucks will continue beyond Bir-el-Alam to our southernmost defensive position. From this point, you will be driven at night by armored car to a position which has been prepared approximately fifteen miles north of Agarawa. It is well concealed. Your jeeps, equipment and supplies are already there. You will operate only by night. When you have obtained your intelligence, you will bring it back to Bir-el-Alam. You will not—I repeat—will not break radio silence. Secrecy is essential. We do not want the enemy to know we are aware of his plans." He handed Troy a pocket notebook. "Your code book. It's simple and self explanatory. Memorize it and destroy before you leave Bir-el-Alam. If there are any messages for you, they will be transmitted between twelve-hundred and twelve-hundred-five hours each day. I believe that is all. Are there any questions?"
    Troy shook his head, looking at Moffitt, who shrugged. Hitch shoved a stick of gum in his mouth and Tully reached for a matchstick.
    "There is one more thing," Major Blakely said, glancing hastily at each of them in turn. "The three of you will remove your distinctive headpieces until your mission is completed. I don't care what else you wear, but you're too readily identifiable as you now stand. Keep under covers and on the alert for enemy agents."
    He walked to the door, opened it, and when halfway out, turned to call in a loud, clear voice, "Good luck on your mission. Sergeant Troy."
    The mission was routine enough, Troy thought, closing the door, except for one item. How were they going to find out what operation the enemy planned when only the unit's commanding officer and a few members of this staff would know what it was?
    "I don't like giving up my Foreign Legion cap," Hitch said, frowning, when Troy turned.
    "It's only temporary," Troy said, pulling off his bush hat. "Stick it under your shirt."
    Hitch muttered under his breath and shoved his cap beneath his belt. When he looked back, Troy was buttoning his jacket over his hat. Hitch guffawed.
    "You're not fat, your're pregnant, Sarge," he burst out. "Who was there? It wasn't me."
    The first motor of the big transport turned over, whoofing and chugging, and caught. Then the second, third and fourth caught and the plane shook with their roaring. The battery truck scuttled away and the C-46 rolled slowly off the apron and swung onto the runway. Troy stood by the door, ready to leap. The runway lights faded and and the buildings went dark. Troy jumped into the night. He ran toward the tail of the ship with the blast from the engines tearing at his back. He heard feet thudding behind him on the asphalt. He