Read The Second Objective for Free Online Page B

at the next roadblock outside the village.”
    “I want to ask these guys a
question
—would you please give me that back, sir?” said the private to the intelligence officer.
    Thinking the kid seemed a little out of line talking like that to an officer, Mallory signaled Anderson to raise the gate. In his peripheral vision Mallory noticed that the jeep’s driver had no unit insignia on the shoulder of his field jacket.
    “So what unit you guys with anyway?” Mallory asked the driver. “Hey, buddy?”
    The driver turned toward him but didn’t answer. The man looked older than he expected, lined and weathered, forty if he was a day. He smiled and nodded at Mallory, but it seemed like a rehearsed response, furtive and uncomprehending.
    This guy’s not right,
whispered some primal instinct.
    Mallory felt a surge of adrenaline kick in. His index finger reconnected with the trigger of his M1.
    “We’re Field HQ, Radio Company,” said the blond lieutenant, smiling again. “Could I trouble you to give us a hand reading our map?”
    The driver gave an awkward wave and turned away from Mallory, training his eyes straight ahead again. In one smooth move the lieutenant stood up in the back and snatched the map from the private’s hand just as he wrested it away from the intelligence officer.
    “No problem, sir. You know, our radio’s on the fritz,” said Mallory, moving no closer to the jeep. “Maybe one of you could take a look at it?”
    “We’re already running pretty late—”
    “Sure it’ll just take a second, sir. Get it working, we could hail the 106 for you, let ’em know where you’re at.”
    Neither man moved as the lieutenant looked down at Mallory for a long moment; then he smiled again. “Private Tenella, grab your kit.”
    The lieutenant slipped over the edge of the jeep, landed like a cat, and stopped to fold the large map down to a manageable size. Mallory tried to catch Ellis’s eye, but he was helping the private fish out some tools from the back of the jeep.
    “Betty Grable,” said the lieutenant, shaking his head, as he passed Mallory, headed for the block house. “What’ll they think of next?”
    “I don’t know. Can you believe that bombshell married Mickey Rooney?” asked Mallory.
    “I heard it, but I don’t believe it,” said the lieutenant.
    Mallory ran a last visual check on the driver, who was rummaging for something on the front seat. His finger firmly on the trigger, Mallory raised the muzzle toward the lieutenant’s back as he turned to follow him, when the man pivoted in his direction.
    All Mallory saw was the map, taut in front of his face, moving straight at him. A muffled pop, and the lines and shades of Belgium burst inward. The first bullet caught Mallory under the right ear, shattering his jaw, glancing off the bone, and tearing through the other side of his mouth. Choking on blood and shattered teeth, he dropped his rifle and was reaching for his throat when Von Leinsdorf fired again, catching him in the right shoulder, spinning him around.
    The intelligence officer, Gunther Preuss, stood up and hit Private Ellis in the face with the flashlight. Bernie dropped his toolbox and backed away from the jeep.
    The driver vaulted out of the jeep and ran toward Anderson at the gate.
    Preuss jumped down after Ellis from the jeep, a knife in his hand. They landed with a heavy thud, Ellis underneath giving a groan as Preuss’s full weight compressed him.
    Anderson turned at the gate to see the driver with a machine pistol in his hand, ten feet away, closing fast. Anderson raised his rifle. They fired simultaneously: Anderson squeezed off two shots; the driver emptied his magazine.
    Von Leinsdorf fired once more at Mallory as he toppled over, then turned casually away as if bored with a conversation. Preuss had his knife buried in Ellis’s ribs, bearing down on him, using his left hand to push the barrel of Ellis’s rifle away from his chest. Grunting with effort, Ellis