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

saw the outline of a truck parked off the runway, ducked around it and swept the back of the tank until he found a handle. Jerking open the hatch, he tumbled inside, followed by the three others. It felt confined and smelled stale and he left the door open a crack to listen and watch for the B-25. The lights blinked on again and he heard the engines of the C-46 explode into full life as the big-bellied plane started its takeoff. It could scarcely have been airborne when the sound of other engines, high and whining, pierced the night.
    "Get ready," Troy warned, voice hollow inside the tank. He glimpsed the medium bomber swinging around fast. Again the marker lights grew dim and the field was plunged into darkness. Troy jumped from the truck and ran along the side of the twin-motored plane. The hatch was open and he pulled himself in, crawling to the middle of the belly. A dim light burned above the hatchway to the cockpit and he watched as Hitch and Tully and then Moffitt came back. The hatch slammed shut, the engines shrieked and the ship trembled and strained. In a moment the B-25 was speeding between the dim marker lights and then they were lifting quickly into the air. Troy looked about. At each side were bubbles with familiar fifty-caliber machine guns. Troy walked unsteadily to the near station, pulled on a set of earphones and pressed the intercom.
    "Sergeant Troy to pilot," he spoke into the mike. "Come in, please. Over."
    "Gus Ogilvy here," the answer came, loud and clear. "What can I do for you, Troy?"
    "What's the procedure?" he asked. "How do you operate?"
    "Relax, Troy," Ogilvy said, laughing. "You're cargo, not crew. It's up to us to deliver you."
    "The point is," Troy said, "we've got an interest in your cargo. We're familiar with your weapons. How can we help?"
    "Good enough," Ogilvy said. "There's a position in the rear for a tailgunner and a turret halfway back. Two of you can man the sides. All of you keep your earphones on and sing out if you sight anything. Over."
    Hitch went back to the tail, Tully took the turret and Moffitt and Troy settled at the sides. The lights of Algiers were enveloped by the overcast. The sky was not so different from the desert, Troy thought. In both you had big empty spaces of nothingness and room to maneuver. Although, in the sky, you had a better opportunity to hide when there were clouds, as on this night.
    "I'm going to see if we can climb above this soup," Ogilvy's voice came in the intercom. "I don't like to fly in it and I don't want to fly under it."
    "Roger," Troy said.
    He could sense the ship climbing steeply and leaned against the side that trembled under his back. His hat still was under his jacket and he pulled it out, perching it over his earphones. Moffitt looked across at him, smiled quickly, put on his beret and fitted the headset over it. They wore no insignia, but their individual, unorthodox headgear stamped them surely as the Rat Patrol. They were mavericks, each of them, Troy thought, grinning, and the was proud of them.
    Abruptly they were in bright moonlight and below lay the light upper side of the cloud cover. The moon was full and the space immense, unexpectedly beautiful, but even emptier than the desert. The night sky above the clouds was a light, transparent blue and they were alone in it.
    "Eight thousand feet," Ogilvy announced. "It shouldn't be too uncomfortable but let me know if any of you has trouble with his breathing. Our air speed is approximately three hundred miles an hour. Everything okay?"
    "Okay," Troy answered and the others chimed in.
    Ogilvy kept the ship just above the clouds, so close they seemed almost to be floating on froth. With all the sky to fly in, Troy wondered why.
    It was half an hour later that the three wasp-bodied Focke-Wulf-190s burst on their tail from the clouds. Troy saw them almost as he heard Hitch calling excitedly in the intercom.
    "Three Jerries closing in fast," he sang out.
    "FW-190s," Tully