Dark Full of Enemies(55)

Stallings swore, quieter this time. Graves said, “If I may, sir, how did you lot get so close?”

“The crew seems to have been taking the evening off. We have no idea when they usually patrol the fjord, or if they do at all. They could be a floating gun platform, just there to defend the dam from anything they can bring 20-millimeter fire down on.”

“With luck, they could be gone when we get there? Out on patrol?”

“Don’t count on it. Now, patrols—” He tapped his pencil against the dam. “Four guards on top of the dam itself. Two walking circuits of the western barracks’ perimeter fence. At least two doing the same on the eastern side, by the concrete command post. It was harder to see back there. There’s also a guard tower on each side, but they don’t look like they got spotlights. During our recon we only saw the guards change once. They’re taking at least three-hour shifts. When we infiltrate, we’ll wait for a guard change, give them half an hour to get bored, and then move in.”

He outlined the ideal plan, sneaking past the headquarters camp to infiltrate from the west, through the E-boat barracks, into the shaft leading to the galleries within the dam, setting the explosives, timed, and escaping before detection.

“We all know that won’t happen.”

From the ideal plan he spun others. In case they could not cross the fjord, they would march overland to the rail bridge, cross, and execute the plan. In case they were detected before arriving at the dam—if by civilians, they would shoo them away in German, if by the Germans, they would shoot their way out and scatter. They could count on no protection from Petersen. If detected during the raid, during their escape, or at virtually any other time, they would shoot their way out—or attempt to—and scatter.

They would insert themselves into the middle of several dangers. Once on the ridge from which McKay had scouted the dam, or down among the E-boat barracks, they would have the guards on patrol, the rest of the garrison in their barracks, the E-boat at its dock and its crew in barracks they would have to walk past to reach their target. And, to their backs, the might of the headquarters camp. McKay did not underestimate the Germans. If they received a distress call from the dam’s garrison, they may have to run uphill in snow for almost a mile to reach them, but they would gear up and do so within fifteen minutes. Ten, even.

The hammer and the anvil were already in contact. McKay was trying to slip in between them.

They discussed further contingencies, and then McKay went man by man, delegating.

“Ollila, we’ll split your load of explosives and bring them into the camp ourselves. You find good places on the ridge to cover us if we need it.”

Ollila nodded, nonchalant, a boy told to play right field this game. “Yes, sir.”

“Graves, you and I go down to the inspection gallery in the middle of the dam. You set the explosives and I’ll help however you need me to.”

“Right, sir.”

Graves went over the explosives.

“We have one-hundred eighty pounds of explosive 808, bally stout Nobel stuff. I wish to use every bit of it inside the dam.”

“Damn,” Stallings said.

“Clever,” Graves said. “With respect, Captain, you’ve indicated you’ve little head for numbers, and we haven’t much idea of the thickness of concrete we’ll try to blast through, so I’d rather not take chances. Cracking the dam and puffing some smoke up Jerry’s arse won’t win the war.”

They laughed. McKay said, “Fine. What else?”

“You had a look at the entrances to the galleries, right?”

“Yes.”

“Metal doors and posts?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. You’ll remember this lot, sir.” Graves produced the small tin of thermite he had shown McKay in London. “We have plenty to worry us without Jerry walking in on us while we’re mining the dam. While I do my infernal work, take this and apply it to the hinges and sides of the doors. Just a smidgen, mind. I’ll show you how, but applied correctly you can weld the bloody door shut. If we do the same as we leave the dam, even should we be captured, they’ll not get the doors unsealed before the explosive has gone off.”

“Outstanding,” McKay said, impressed. “What else?”

“I’d like to have a go at the rail bridge, sir.”

McKay thought. “If you don’t synchronize the timers right, the bridge could tip off the Germans to check the dam.”

“No timer for that, sir—pressure plate. Plant the explosive higher up the support but put the trigger, if you will, where the water burst from the dam will press two wires together for a circuit. I’ve got the lot, all I need to make it, but don’t know who’d mine the bridge and if we should spare the explosive.”

“All right—don’t worry about it. We’re here for the dam.”

“Right, sir. Bloody shame, though.”

That brought him to Stallings. McKay looked close at him. He sat comfortably, looking at the hand-drawn map. He did not look sickly, disconcerted, or even nervous. McKay thought that a good sign but refused to let himself hope.

“How you feeling, Grove?”

“You’re worried about my head, ain’t you?”

McKay did not bother nodding.

“I’m fine, dammit. I’m fucking sorry I hit my head, but I asked to be here and I wanna do my part.”