CHAPTER TEN

The Old Man Told of the Underground’s Activities

“The power plant at the dam has been damaged half a dozen times. Of course, they could always fix it again, but it delayed them for several days, sometimes a week. And they’ve had to post a guard at the switches in the railroad yards because of what we did there. Little things—all little things we did—but they have helped, I know.”

“Now you can help us do big things,” Dick said, “you and your friends in town. But there must be enemies, too—do you know them?”

“Oh, yes, I know them,” the old man said grimly. “We have a list of them. Many have run away, to the north, afraid of the advancing Americans and afraid of their own townspeople, too. But there are a few left. There is Garone the banker and Balardi who was Mayor under Mussolini. He is still here. And they have a few sniveling underlings. But there are not many. Some there are who fear for their own necks. They will not actively fight the enemy, but they would never betray us, either.”

“We’ll put ourselves in your good hands,” Dick said. “You can be our guide and helper here in Maletta.”

“Is the town still the same?” Tony asked.

“No, of course not,” Tomaso replied sadly. “Many have fled. Many others have been evacuated to the factories in the north. And all our young men—they were in the army, of course. Some are dead, others are prisoners of the Germans. We don’t hear much. But here in Maletta we try to keep on laughing and smiling. Why, we still have the opera once a week.”

He glanced apologetically at Dick. “I know that Ricardo Donnelli would find our opera company a poor one. Our costumes are shabby now, our sets falling to pieces. The good young voices are not here, but the performances still give us great joy—almost the only joy we still have in our lives.”

“Then it is a fine opera company,” Dick said. “If it gives the people pleasure, it is doing all that anything can do.”

“Now tell me what I am to do,” Tomaso said, in businesslike fashion.

“First, we must find a place for my radio,” Tony said. “Uncle, I am a radioman for America’s Army. We have, in the hills where we landed, a complete broadcasting set. I must use it to send messages in code to our Army, messages telling about movements of German troops and supplies through Maletta.”

“That is not easy,” Tomaso said, with a puzzled frown on his face. “The Germans do not like radios, even for receiving.”

“They have a way, Uncle,” Tony explained, “of listening to a radio and telling exactly where it is.”

“I know, I know,” the old man said. “The underground had a secret, illegal station in Florence—there are many others, but I know about this one. The Germans listened and found out exactly which block it was hidden in. Then they just went through all the houses and found it. There is another in atruck that moves from place to place, and they cannot find it. But the Germans have no detectors here in Maletta. I know that.”

“They don’t need to be right here,” Tony said. “They might be in other towns, several miles away. They can pick up stations from a long distance. We cannot move about with our station. We cannot use it from the hills, for then the Germans would find our hiding place. Is there no place in the town itself where we can hide it? We need to use it only for a few minutes once or twice each day. But the hiding place must be absolutely safe—something the Germans just cannot locate.”

The old man was thinking hard. He had offered to help. He could not fail to help in the very first thing they asked, no matter how difficult a task it was. But the town of Maletta—it had been gone over with a fine-tooth comb by the Germans many times. After each sabotage job, they went through every house, into wine cellars, into attics. After the Gestapo officer was killed they even tapped walls looking for hidden rooms.

He looked over the town as Dick and Tony waited for him to speak. The old man knew this town in which he had lived all his life, knew it as no one else did. There below him was the sprawling villa. Over to the right the railroad station. The three great church steeples loomed against the night sky just like the old bell tower over the villa.

Suddenly he gasped, and slapped his knee. Then he leaned back and laughed, almost soundlessly, but still with great good feeling. Dick and Tony looked at him in amazement. Dick wondered if something had cracked in the old man who had gone through so much. Maybe he was not completely dependable.

“Uncle Tomaso!” Tony was saying urgently. “What is it? What is it you’re laughing about?”

“I’m laughing at what a good joke we shall play on the Germans!” the old man laughed. “I know where you can set up your radio!”

THE OLD BELL TOWER

“Right under our noses all this time,” Tony’s uncle said. “That’s where we’ll put your radio sending station, Tony my boy. And it will be right under—or rather, over—the Germans’ noses, too!”

“Where?” the word came from both Tony and Dick at the same time.

“The old bell tower on the villa!” the old man declared, serious again.

“But that’s been in ruins for years!” Tony objected.

“Exactly!” the old man agreed. “That’s why it’s so safe.”

Dick was not sure he understood the old man.

“You mean that tall tower rising over the center of the villa?” he asked. “Is that the bell tower? I can just make it out.”

“Yes, that’s it!” Tomaso replied. “As Tony says, it has been in ruins for years—but it’s still standing! That’s the point—it is still standing there. Part of the stone top has crumbled away, where the bells used to be hundreds of years ago. That happened in another war long, long ago. The bells were taken from the tower and melted down. Later lightningstruck the tower and knocked part of the top away. Finally, the stone stairway inside crumbled and fell. That was two hundred years ago, I’m told, and the caretaker of the villa in those days was killed by the falling stones inside the house.”

“But the Nazis have taken over the villa!” Tony objected. “We can’t put our radio up in the very headquarters of the Germans!”

“Why not?” Dick asked. He began to see why the old man laughed when he had this idea. “That’s just about the last place they’d look—in their own headquarters.”

“But the radio locating devices will place it there!” Tony pointed out.

“Of course,” Dick agreed. “But if the Germans can’t find the radio—then they’ll know something’s wrong. They’ll search in all the buildings and houses near by and will find nothing. If the stone stairs into the tower have long been down, how can they get up there to look?”

“And if that’s so, how can we get up there ourselves—with heavy radio equipment?” Tony demanded.

“Oh, we ought to be able to get up there some way,” Dick said. “But the Germans won’t think of it because—first, they just won’t believe anyone would dare set up an illegal radio on top of their headquarters and, second, because to them there is no way to get there.”

“That’s right,” Tomaso said. “When they first came to take over the villa, they looked everywhere. They wanted to be sure of the building they were moving into. They looked into every nook and cranny. They searched every room, looked up chimneys, investigated the big wine cellars, tried to find hidden passages and rooms. They asked a lot about the tower then. They know the stone stairs fell down two hundred years ago. They tried every possible way to get up—but they always tried from theinside! Finally they concluded no one could possibly get there. They never thought of the outside—and that’s how you’ll get there, Tony.”

“But how?” the young radioman asked.

“I remember how agile you always were,” Tomaso said. “I recall how you used to run down this hill and leap on the roof of the servants’ wing. I know you could scale any wall, any tree!”

“That’s right,” Dick agreed. “Tony can get wherever he wants to go. He can crawl like a cat!”

“But not with a hundred or more pounds of radio under my arm,” Tony objected. “You’ve a wonderful idea, I’ll admit. Probably couldn’t be a better place under the circumstances. Still, how can I get there and get the radio stuff there?”

“From the roof of the servants’ wing,” Tomaso said, “we can raise a ladder. The longest ladder we have is about fifteen feet long. That would still leave you fifteen feet from the opening at the top where the bells were.”

“We can make an extension for the ladder,” Dick said. “We can do that tomorrow in the woods, bring it down with us tomorrow night.”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” the old man said. “But it may not be very strong. Still, Tony is not heavy. If he also had a rope with a hook on the end, something that he could toss up to catch over the edge of the opening, then he could surely pull himself up.”

“We could do that all right,” Tony agreed. He was becoming more excited at the prospect of placing his radio over German headquarters.

“Then you could pull up the radio equipment with a rope,” Dick said. “And one of us could climb up to help you. After all, you’ve got to have some one with you when you broadcast, to crank the generator handles and give you enough power.”

“How do we know the tower is strong enough?” Tony asked.

“It is strong enough,” the old man said. “It has stood all these years. A bolt of lightning did no more than knock a few rocks off the top.”

“Won’t we make a good deal of noise getting up there?” Dick asked.

“That is a chance we must take,” Tomaso said. “But there are no Germans below the servants’ wing. Then, too, the roof is very thick. I think they will not hear. We set our ladder up against the rear wall of the tower, so we cannot be seen from thefront. We work after midnight when almost all are asleep, except the sleepy sentries and guards. They do not watch the villa closely—no, it is the railroad yards, the bridges, and the dam which they guard well.”

Dick decided to go ahead with the old man’s plan. They made arrangements to meet him the following night, shortly after midnight, behind the wing of the villa.

“There will be two more men with us then, Uncle Tomaso,” Dick said. “So don’t be startled when you see four figures on the hill here.”

The man gave them his blessing, and the two Americans left, circling around the way they had come. It was close to midnight when they reached the cave in the hills where they found Vince Salamone and Max Burckhardt covering them with sub-machine guns as they approached. Slade was inside with Lieutenant Scotti.

“He’s come to,” Max said to Dick, “but he doesn’t do much more than mumble yet. It first happened about half an hour ago.”

Dick and Tony hurried inside, where they found Slade bending over the still prostrate figure of their lieutenant. Dick bent down beside him, and looked at Slade with questioning eyes.

“Don’t know,” the man shrugged. “He seems to see me, but there may be a little paralysis somewhere. He can’t talk so that I can understand him, but his eyes seem clear. It’s encouraging, anyway.”

The light of a pocket flash gave Dick a chance to look into Scotti’s face. The man’s eyes opened slowly and he peered up. Dick flashed the light strongly on his own face so that Scotti could see him clearly.

“Jerry,” he said. “Jerry, it’s Dick.”

Scotti’s eyes looked straight and clear at his. Then his mouth opened a little and some sounds came out, but they meant nothing to Dick. Yet the look in the eyes showed Dick that the lieutenant recognized him, knew who he was. He felt sure that the wounded man could understand and hear everything, even if he could not speak.

“Jerry,” he said, “you banged your head on a rock when you landed. You’ve been unconscious a long time. But everything is all right. The rest of us are together. We’re in a good cave in the side of the hill. Everything is safe. Tony and I have been to Maletta. Tony’s uncle is there, glad to help us. We’ll set up the radio tomorrow night in town.”

Dick saw the eyelids flicker up and down. It seemed to him that meant the lieutenant understood what had been said to him. Maybe he was just hoping that was the case, but somehow, Dick felt more as if the lieutenant were with them again.

“That’s all for now,” he said quietly. “You must rest more. For some reason you can’t talk yet. Probably some pressure from the bang on the head. If you rest you’ll be better tomorrow.”

Once more the eyes flickered up and down as if the man were nodding his head. Dick turned out the light and went outside, followed by Boom-Boom Slade. There he told the others what he had said to the lieutenant.

“Somehow I think he got what I said,” he explained. “Could that be possible, Slade?”

“From what I know, it could be,” Slade replied. “And it may well be that he’ll regain the ability to talk within a couple of days. I fed him a little something after he came to, and gave him some water, and he seemed to like that. From the look in his eyes he isn’t suffering any great pain.”

“In a week there’ll be American Army doctors here,” Tony said. “They can fix him up.”

“You sound very certain about that,” Max said. “You and Dick must have made out all right in town. How about it?”

Dick and Tony told the others about finding Uncle Tomaso and then about the plans for placing the radio in the old bell tower. At first they were incredulous, and then they all laughed just the way Uncle Tomaso had laughed.

“If that really works,” Vince exclaimed, “it’ll be the best joke the Germans ever had played on them. They think they’re so smart! But it’s just the sort of thing they’d never dream of doing—or of anybody else doing. By golly, I think we can really get away with it!”

“By Golly, I Think We Can Get Away With It!”

They talked for a long time. Slade wanted to know if they had looked at the dam, of course.

“No, not this trip,” Dick replied. “But I did learn from Uncle Tomaso that it’s pretty heavily guarded. There’s a power station there, too. The underground has disrupted it a few times, so a sizable guard is around, I guess. It won’t be easy to get a big load of dynamite planted in the right spot there. But—one problem at a time, I say. The radio is the first job, and we’ll take care of that tomorrow night.”

They finally went to sleep, and they slept late into the morning. Then they ate and sat around. Dick looked in at Lieutenant Scotti regularly, and he seemed better all the time. But his inability to speak seemed to bother him a great deal.

“Don’t try to talk yet,” Dick said. “It’s too much for you.”

This time, Scotti nodded his head slightly to show that he understood. So Dick proceeded to tell him about the plans for placing the radio in the bell tower. When he finished he asked, “Did you understand it all? Do you think it’s okay?”

Again there was a slight nod of the head, and there seemed to be a smile in Scotti’s eyes.

“I believe he thinks it’s really a funny situation, too,” Dick said to himself. “He’d like to laugh if he could, poor guy.”

The day seemed endless for them all. They could do nothing but sit and wait for darkness. For men who loved action as these men did, it was difficult to sit still while there was so much to be done.

Even after darkness came, there was a long wait ahead of them, for they were not to meet Tomaso until after midnight. Every fifteen minutes from ten o’clock on, Vince or Max asked Dick if it weren’t time to start yet. These two particularly were restless, for they had done nothing at all since their landing by parachute. Dick and Tony had at least gone into the town and laid plans.

It was well after eleven before Dick agreed to go. The radio equipment was packed and ready long before that. Vince had built a fifteen-foot ladder with an extra board at one end to enable it to fit over another ladder. They took rope and a sort of metal grappling hook which Max had hammered out of the metal cover of one of the supply containers.

Dick led the way down the hill, after telling Lieutenant Scotti that they were leaving, and getting a nod in reply. Slade wished them luck and sat by the entrance to the cave with a sub-machine gun across his knees.

The four men followed the same route Dick and Tony had taken the night before. Vince and Max would have gone at a trot, despite their heavy loads, if Dick had not held them back.

“I never saw two fellows so anxious to walk into an enemy-held town unarmed, and likely to be picked up and shot as spies!” the sergeant laughed.

“I just want to do something, that’s all,” Vince insisted.

“Sure, the general’s depending on us, isn’t he,” Max added, “for the success of this whole operation?”

“Okay, okay,” Dick said. “But the one way to make it a success is to take it easy except when fast action is called for. The main thing to remember tonight is—be quiet!”

They crossed the field and came to the road from the northeast. While Dick clambered up the ditch and looked up and down the highway, the rest of them crouched behind the wall with their loads. The lights of a car flickered a bit away from town, so Dick scurried back and joined the others behind the wall. In a few minutes four big trucks roared past them into the town. Dick jumped up, ran to the road again and motioned the others on.

Just as they were climbing over the wall on the other side, they heard again the sounds of motors and ducked down. This time half a dozen trucks came past and Dick whispered to Max, “Guess the general has started his attack. The reinforcements are beginning to come in.”

In another fifteen minutes the four men stood on the hill behind the villa, near the clump of trees where Dick and Tony had talked with Tomaso the night before. Tony pointed out to Vince and Max the outline of the bell tower which rose high overthe villa, and showed them the servants’ wing at the rear of it, where they would put their ladders on the roof.

And then they saw the old man making his way up the hill toward them. They waited in silence until he came under the trees, and then Tony spoke.

“Hello, Uncle Tomaso,” he said gently. “We’re here.”

“Yes, I see,” the old man said. “With your radio—and a ladder, too.”

“We have everything,” Dick said. “And these are two more American soldiers. You may have heard of this big fellow—he’s Vince Salamone.”

The old man looked at the home-run king and his eyes shone!

“Of course!” he cried. “Who in the world does not know the world’s greatest baseball player? You have won good-will for Italians everywhere, young man. Just think of it—here is old Tomaso with these two great men—Vincent Salamone and Ricardo Donnelli! I am most fortunate to be able to help you!”

“And this is Max Burckhardt,” Dick said. “His family was German, so you can realize what a fighter he is against our enemies. But he cannot speak Italian. We will speak to him in English so he will understand.”

The old man looked carefully at Max, who smiled back at him, then nodded as if giving his approval.

“Come now,” he said. “We will go to work.”

“Is everything quiet?” Dick asked.

“Yes, but there has been much activity today,” the old man said. “Many trucks and tanks and soldiers have come into Maletta by both roads. We have heard of a big attack by the American forces.”

“Yes, that is why we must have the radio,” Dick said. “We want to report to our Army how many trucks and tanks and soldiers come here. Can you learn that for us each day?”

“My friends and I—we can learn,” Tomaso said. “Tomorrow morning I will tell them, and each evening I can give you the information. But I do not tell even my friends where the radio is. They need not know, and if the Germans should try to torture the information out of them, they will not be able to weaken.”

They were led to the end of the wing where the old man pointed out a long ladder lying against the rear wall where there were no windows. Vince lifted it and placed it against the roof, which was only a few feet above them where they stood on the hill’s side.

Dick went up first and stepped carefully on the roof. He was pleased to see that it was almost flat so that it would be easy not only to walk on, but also to set a ladder on. There was just a slight slope toward the rear.

He turned and motioned for the next man to follow, and Tony came up with one case of radio material. Then came the old man himself, and Dick and Tony helped him off the ladder. Next Max handed up the home-made ladder that Vince had put together that day, and Dick and Tony pulled it up and laid it on the roof. Max himself came next, with another box of radio material and the coil of rope with its metal grappling hook.

And last of all came Vince, with the big box containing the hand-cranked generator to supply power for the radio transmitter. When they were all on the roof, they waited for a minute, listening to see if there were any unusual sounds about. They heard the chugging of engines from the railroad yards to the west, the noise of truck motors coming down the road from the northwest, and that was all.

Dick and Tomaso walked along the roof side by side, treading lightly, and the others followed, bringing all equipment and both ladders. Finally they stood in the deep shadow at the base of the old bell tower. Looking up, it seemed to Dick as if it rose an impossible distance into the sky. He felt sure their ladders would never reach it.

Vince set to work fixing his home-made ladder to the end of Tomaso’s ladder. It slid over the end all right, but was rather loose, so he took from his pocket a length of heavy cord and bound it round and round the shafts where both ladders were joined.The others waited silently, watching him work quickly and surely. In two minutes the ladders were as strong as one long one, and Max helped Vince lift it so that they could lean it against the bell tower.

Dick stood back a little way to see how close it came to the opening near the top of the tower. It was almost ten feet short! He stepped forward and whispered to Vince and Max:

“Lean it at a sharper angle. It’s short.”

He stepped back and saw that the new position gained only about three feet. The top rung was still about seven feet below the opening in the tower. And Tony could never stand on the top rung, hugging the wall. He’d have to stand on the third rung from the top, so he’d have some support for his hands and could lean his body in against the wall. Of course, there was the rope and grappling hook, but that was tricky business—uncertain and likely to make a good deal of noise.

Vince was standing beside him. “Can’t make it any steeper,” he said. “It would topple backward.”

“Then Tony will have to try that rope and grappling hook,” Dick said. They stepped forward to the others again.

“Tony, you’ll have to try that rope trick,” Dick said. “But make it as quiet as possible, please. We’ll steady the ladder for you down here, and we’ll even try to catch you if you fall. But take it easy. It will probably take you quite a few tries before you canhook that thing on the edge. We don’t know if it’s big enough to grab hold of that rock at the opening. Maybe you can’t make it at all.”

“I’ll do my best,” Tony said, taking the rope and the hook from Max, who had tied the metal piece to the end of the rope. Tony slung the coil over his shoulder and started up the ladder. Without a sound he slicked up the wobbly steps as if he were sliding, not climbing.

“Look at ’im go,” Max whispered. “He’s a wonder, that guy.”

Dick just looked upward without a word. Then he felt the old man’s hand clutch his arm. Still he did not take his eyes away from Tony.

“Don’t worry, Tomaso,” he said. “Tony will be all right.”

“Yes, Tony is a good boy,” the old man said, and took his hand away.

Tony was near the top now. Dick could see the black blob that was his figure against the wall of the tower. He saw an arm swing outward and heard the clink of metal against stone. It was not as loud a noise as he had thought it would be, and he breathed a little more easily. He watched the arm swing outward again. There was another metallic sound, and this time Dick saw the spark as metal hit stone. It seemed to him, as clearly as he could make out, that Tony had come close that time. But he was hoping so hard that he felt he must be wishing it to catch hold.

Again Tony swung the rope with the big hook on the end. Each time he felt the ladder wobble, each time he grabbed with one hand to steady himself, each time he was sure he was falling. And then, each time, too, he had to dodge that big metal hook that hurtled down at him when it missed catching. He had not only to dodge it, but to try to catch it so it would not clatter against the wall and make too much noise.

After half a dozen tries he stopped. His heart was beating like a trip-hammer, and his breath was coming short. He knew that the others below were tense.

He pulled himself together and tried again. The hook missed and came down again. He caught it, almost lost his balance, grabbed hold, and threw again. He was already ducking and reaching out for the falling hook before he realized that this time it was not falling. It had caught over the edge!

“Boy, I hate to give a tug on this rope,” he said to himself. “I’m afraid if I do it will come right down again.”

But he tugged a little bit. The hook did not come down. He tugged harder. Still it did not come down. Then with both hands he pulled. It was secure.

As a final test, he lifted his feet from the ladder rung and let the rope support his whole body. He wanted to shout with joy at knowing that he had succeeded, but he could only smile silently.

Below, Dick knew that Tony had made it. There was no more slinging of that big hook. Then he watched Tony’s figure creep up the side of the wall above the ladder. Maybe the hook had been caught—but what if it gave way now? Tony would topple down in their midst, the ladders would fall, the metal hook would clatter to the roof, and the sentries would be shooting at them!

But it didn’t happen. Instead he saw Tony’s figure disappear—and that could mean only one thing! He had crawled in through the opening in the bell tower. He had made it!

FRUITLESS SEARCH

The men on the roof said no word. They all knew, even old Tomaso, that Tony had reached the opening at the top of the bell tower. They stood close to the wall, their eyes fixed upward. For almost five minutes they did not hear a sound or see anything.

Dick knew that Tony was busy. First, he was feeling his way about in the darkness up there. At some point in the tower there was the yawning hole of the ancient stone staircase which had crumbled so long ago. Tony had to locate that danger spot and make sure to keep away from it. Then he had to find a strong beam or rock to which he might tie the end of the rope for pulling up his supplies. Dick wondered if any part of the old bell stanchions might still be standing.

Suddenly a figure leaned from the opening at the top of the tower, and then the rope came sliding down the wall toward them. At a whispered word Vince and Max removed the long ladder from the side of the tower and placed it flat on the roof, out of the way. Dick, meanwhile, grabbed the rope end and tied it securely to the first container holding radio material. Then he gave three short tugs on the rope.

It started upward at once. Tony took it slowly so that the container would not bump noisily against the wall. Even with the greatest care, it made too much noise as it scraped upward. Dick was worried about it. He turned to Vince and Max.

“This might bring somebody out to see what’s going on,” he whispered. “You’d better get going. No use all of us taking a chance on getting caught. Take the ladders back. Take them apart. Vince, you take your ladder and the cord you used back to the cave. Help Tomaso put his ladder back where it belongs—not near this wing, anyway. The Germans will be looking around for a radio transmitter tomorrow and we want to leave no clues for them.”

“Okay, Dick,” Vince said, picking up the long ladder.

“See that Tomaso gets back to his room,” Dick said. “Then you and Max head for the cave. When I get all the supplies up there, I’m going up with Tony. As soon as he gets the radio working we’ll get in touch with our forces, send our first message. I’ll stick there with Tony until after dark tomorrow evening. Then I’ll get back to the cave. See you there. If Scotti’s all right, give him a report on what we’ve done.”

While Dick was giving these instructions, the first container had scraped up the tower wall to the opening and Tony had pulled it inside. Now therope was let down to the roof once more, and Dick quickly tied the end to the second container as Max and Vince went to the rear of the roof with Tomaso. Dick gave three jerks on the rope and the second container started upward.

He looked back and saw the last of the three figures disappear from the roof at the rear of the wing. He listened carefully but could hear no sound other than the scraping of the metal container as it scratched its way up to Tony. Then, when Tony pulled it inside, there was complete silence. There was no indication that any of the Germans had heard the sound and were coming to investigate.

In a few minutes the rope came snaking down the tower wall for the last, and heaviest, container. It took Dick some time to tie it securely, for it was an odd shape. He wondered if Tony would have too hard a time pulling it up. Tony was small, but he was wiry and strong.

Just before he pulled his signal on the rope, he heard a slight sound somewhere behind him. He jerked around, startled, and then saw two shadows making their way across the hill behind the villa.

“Just Max and Vince,” Dick sighed with relief to himself. “If anything happens now, they’re in the clear at least and can carry on.”

He pulled the rope and the big container started upward. A foot at a time it went, scraping more noisily than either of the other boxes. Halfway up it stopped for a full minute.

Dick Tied the Rope Securely Around the Box

“Tony’s tired,” Dick told himself. “He’s probably taking an extra turn around his post with the rope, in case his arms give out at the crucial moment.”

Then the box started upward again at a pace which seemed painfully slow to Dick, standing alone on the roof below. Almost inch by inch it scratched toward the opening. Then it was there! Tony was pulling it inside, Dick saw, but then there was a sudden loud clanking noise.

Instinctively, Dick crouched against the wall. The big box must have slipped a bit as Tony tried to haul it inside. But he caught it, dragged it in. That noise—it had been loud. Surely it would bring someone to look around!

The rope slid down the wall quickly, and Dick snatched at it the moment it was within reach. Hand over hand he pulled himself up the wall, bracing his feet against the stone and walking up. Halfway up he was panting, and the rope began to cut into his hands. But he did not let himself slow down. If only he could get up there fast enough—

He felt a hand grasp his arm and knew that Tony was leaning out to help him inside. With another pull he was able to throw one hand over the stone ledge. Then, with a terrific heave, he slid his body through the opening, tumbling onto the stone floor inside and banging his head against a huge wooden beam.

Tony was already pulling the rope in as fast as he could, and Dick sat where he had fallen, trying to get his breath back, not daring to move yet for fear he might fall into the stair well. Then Tony was on the floor beside him, whispering.

“Good going, Dick!” he said. “Sorry I made such a clatter. I almost went out the opening with that last container. Keep to this side. The stair well is there on your right, up against that wall. Everything else is safe. There are big beams in the center where the bells used to be. That’s where I tied the rope.”

“And where I banged my head,” Dick added. “Wait—what’s that?”

They froze in their tracks and listened. Below they heard voices, one commanding, the other replying—in German. Tony moved silently to an opening at the front of the tower, and Dick followed him. Looking down, they could see a lighted space in front of the villa, with light coming from two windows and the open door.

A German officer stood there, giving orders to two sentries. They were walking to the sides of the villa, throwing their strong flashlight beams into every dark corner and shadow.

“They heard it,” Dick whispered. “They’re looking around to see what’s what.”

“What about the others?” Tony asked.

“Safely away,” Dick said. “And Tomaso’s in his room.”

They watched as the sentries circled around to the wing at the rear of the villa, then returned and made a report to the officer. They threw their flashlight beams upward toward the roof, over the old bell tower and across the street. But there was nothing to be found. In a moment the officer went back inside and the sentries took up their regular posts at the front of the villa. The lights went out, and Dick and Tony turned to each other and smiled.

“Now to work,” Tony said. “I’ll get that radio set up.”

Tony worked in the dark. It was not for nothing that he had so carefully practiced assembling this radio. He wanted to be able to do it by feeling alone, without relying on any light. Dick helped by holding the few tools in his hands and giving them to Tony when he asked for them. When Tony finished with the screwdriver he returned it to Dick’s hands, so no time would be wasted feeling around for it.

It took almost an hour for Tony to complete his work. During that time he worked without pause, muttering to himself the names of the different parts he handled, giving himself instructions. Dick sat patiently and said nothing, knowing Tony’s complete concentration on his job. Finally, the young radioman turned to Dick and said, “There! It’s done. If it will only work now.”

“Want the light for a few minutes to check it?” Dick asked. “I think it might be safe.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s okay,” Tony replied. “After that noise, those sentries may be more on the alert than usual.”

Dick edged his way up to the generator and felt for the cranks. “Tell me when to start turning,” he said.

“Okay,” Tony said “Give me some power now.”

Dick turned the cranks and got them going at a regular speed.

“That’s about right,” Tony said. Dick heard him snap a switch and speak in a clear voice into the little microphone.

“Julius Caesar to Mark Antony,” he said. “Julius Caesar to Mark Antony.”

Over and over he repeated the words, and after the tenth repetition, he got his answer through his earphones.

“Mark Antony to Julius Caesar,” the voice said. “Come in, Julius Caesar.”

“Got it, Dick,” Tony whispered exultantly. “Now give me the message—in Italian and in code. I’ll repeat.”

Dick had memorized most of the short code which had been devised in Italian for these special reports, so that he would not have to use a light to refer to a code book. Later, he knew, when he came to give detailed information as to troops and equipment, he would have to refer to his code book to get thingsabsolutely straight. But now he just wanted headquarters to know that the paratroop party was established in Maletta.

He spoke softly to Tony the words which would tell the American general that the party had landed safely except for Scotti’s accident, that they had contacted Tony’s uncle, that the radio was now set up in the town itself. The next report, to come at eight o’clock the next evening, would give detailed information about German troop movements into Maletta, some of which had already started.

And that was all. It was essential to keep on the air the shortest possible time, so that the German locator stations would have only a minute or two in which to get a fix on the illegal transmitter.

Dick and Tony sat back. There was nothing more for them to do for a long time, and they knew it.

“But I’ll bet there’s a lot going on in certain places,” Dick said to Tony. “Back at headquarters, for instance, the radio orderly has rushed that message to the code room and it will be taken at once to the general. I’ll bet he left word to be awakened at any time a message came through from us.”

“And they’re plenty busy at a couple of German listening posts, too,” Tony said. “Maybe we’ll see some of the fun.”

Tony was right. In four German monitor stations their message had been heard. In each one a line had been drawn on a detailed map showing the direction from which the radio report had come. The message itself, in Italian, was obviously code, and was rushed to decoding experts.

There were telephone calls from the four monitor stations to Gestapo headquarters in a city to the northwest of Maletta. There the four lines of the four different stations were drawn on a map, and the spot at which those lines crossed was in the town of Maletta.

Before dawn two big black cars roared out of the city, toward Maletta itself. That town, now the crucial point of resistance to the American Army’s northward drive, would not have an illegal radio station for long, the Gestapo officers felt sure. It was important—so important that Colonel Klage himself led the locating party to wipe out that new station which was obviously trying to get vital information to the Americans.

At that time, Dick and Tony were asleep in the bell tower, after having eaten a light meal from their ration tins. But the first light of dawn woke them. Even if it had not, the roar of the two speeding cars stopping in front of the villa would have done so. They peered cautiously down out of the opening at the front of the tower.

Germans poured from the two big black cars, and one banged noisily on the door of the villa after showing his credentials to the sentries there. A man in a colonel’s uniform was looking over the villa andthen at the houses across the street. Dick could not see his face, but he knew that the man was looking quite bewildered. He was standing at the exact spot shown on the map to be the location of the illegal transmitter—and yet it was German Army headquarters!

Two or three officers poured out of the front door of the villa, some of them still pulling on jackets. Dick and Tony saw that some were in their slippers, and they did not look at all smart. Instead they were perturbed, even though officers of rank a good deal higher than the colonel who faced them. A colonel in the Gestapo could still make an army general tremble.

Dick wished that he might have heard the conversation that was going on below: the angry statement of the colonel that an illegal transmitter had operated from that spot and the vigorous protestations of the others that such a thing was impossible. The colonel took a map from an aide and pointed out the exact spot of the radio station, proving that it was in German army headquarters in Maletta.

The army men pointed to houses across the street, and down the road to the right. They were saying, Dick knew, that the transmitter must be there, somewhere else in the neighborhood.

Then the search began. The Gestapo men went first to the small house directly across the street from the villa. They were there half an hour, andDick and Tony knew how thoroughly they were tearing that home to pieces looking for the hidden radio.

“I hate to put these Italians through such an ordeal,” Dick whispered, “but we can’t help it.”

“In a while they will know the reason for it all,” Tony said, “and then they will not mind what they are going through now.”

Dick and Tony felt that they had box seats at a good show that day. All morning and well into the afternoon the search went on. Houses and stores and buildings within several blocks were searched thoroughly, and finally the villa itself was gone over inch by inch, despite the protestations of the German army men that the Gestapo officer was insulting them by searching in their own headquarters for an illegal Italian radio. But the Gestapo colonel did not care how many people he insulted. He knew what would happen to him if he returned to his own headquarters without having found and destroyed that transmitter. And he knew how silly it would sound to his superior officer when he said that his locators had placed the radio in German army headquarters in Maletta.

He himself began to doubt the accuracy of his listening posts. But for four of them to go wrong at the same time—that was impossible! There was something radically wrong somewhere and the colonel didn’t like it one bit. His anger was apparenteven to Tony and Dick as they watched him get into his big black car, slam the door, and pull away with tires screaming as the cars careened around the corner.

“The colonel is a bit miffed,” Tony said, with a happy smile.

“He’ll be more than miffed in a few days,” Dick said. “Before the week is out that guy’s going to be in a real predicament.”

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