D-Notice by Bill Walker (big ebook reader txt) 📗

for them to shadow the tanks on foot. And the patrol would be vulnerable if they tried to follow as a unit. It was clear they would just have to muddle through.

Thorley held up his hand as he heard a flash of conversation. “Go back, slowly.”

Brady barely tweaked the dial and the headphones squawked to life. “Anton Übermut Nordpol, Dies ist Zachari Fünf. Verstanden? Aus.”

The reply came back tinged with static. “Ja, Dies ist Anton Übermut Nordpol. Ich habe Verstanden. Nächster Punkt Viktor. Aus.”

“Jawohl. Aus.”

The radio fell silent and he pulled one of the headphone cans off one ear, leaving the other covered.

“What was that frequency?” Thorley asked.

“27.135 megacycles.”

“Make a note of that one and keep scanning.”

“You heard something. What did they say?”

Thorley shook his head. “Routine. One of the Panzers identified themselves and the base commander ordered them to proceed to a point they’re calling Viktor.”

“So, what does it mean?”

“I don’t bloody know. I was afraid of this.”

Brady looked puzzled, prompting Thorley to explain.

“The Germans use radio codes, phonetic words that stand for actual German words. Just as we use, ‘Abel, Baker, Charley,’ they use the German equivalent. They also use them as vectors on a map, point Viktor, or ‘V,’ being one of them. And every branch of the Wehrmacht uses a different code. Unless I have access to a German map, I can’t tell you where Point Viktor is.”

Thorley watched the tanks forming ranks for traveling.

Brady shook his head, exasperated. “Bloody Christ. All this work and they’re speaking gibberish. What about what you just heard?”

“Like I said, routine. There was no reason for the code, except for their destination. That could mean any place.”

“Like Tobruk.”

“Yes, like Tobruk,” Thorley echoed, his mood turning dark. He readjusted the headphones. “Let’s keep going.”

They caught another snippet of conversations between two tanks and like he feared, it was almost entirely in code, something about “Sago” and “Kurfürst” and “Indianer.” The words themselves, though formal German vocabulary, he knew were being used to mean something entirely different here and now.

The first column of tanks began moving out of the depression. There was more coded chatter intermixed with some joking between the Panzer crews. Thorley turned to Brady. “What’s your frequency?

“27.225.”

“Go back to 27.135.”

Brady nodded and turned the dial. At first there was nothing. And then Brady must have nudged the dial one way or the other because his headphones suddenly filled with laughter and then a question.

“Dort sollen die Frauen gutaussehen. Aus?”

The reply came in a guttural Bavarian accent. “Ja, sehr gut. Du wirst Jamila kennen lernen. Sie besizt das beste wirtshaus in Alamein. Ich war dort bevor dem Krieg. Sie wird sich freuen, uns zusehen. Aus.”

“Oh, ja. Das ist ausgezeichnet.”

Thorley was riveted. Someone in one of those tanks had mentioned El Alamein, as if they planned on being there sometime soon. Either this meant Rommel was planning his own offensive and these lovesick tankers had just given away the objective, or it was all idle chatter, wishful thinking on the part of two war weary men. One thing was for sure, he needed to hear more, something of a more military nature. No one had mentioned anything about General Auchinleck’s offensive. Thorley returned to the conversation between the two tankers, eager to hear more. By this time, however, the talk had degenerated into bathroom humor that was soon ended when an officer cut in on them and demanded they stop jabbering.

Thorley ripped off the phones and began writing on a tiny notepad. Brady watched, his tense expression giving away his eagerness to learn what Thorley had heard. Thorley resisted the urge to smile, enjoying his newfound power over the impetuous Irishman.

“You’re about ready to burst, aren’t you?” Thorley asked, allowing himself to smile.

Brady looked annoyed. “Bloody right. Now spill it. What did you hear?”

“Basically this. Two men were discussing the merits of Egyptian women and one of them promised to introduce him to the tart that runs his favorite bar in El Alamein.”

“It’s not much to go on, Mikey.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Did they say anything about Crusader?”

Thorley shook his head wearily. “Not yet, so I suggest we keep listening. The tanks will all be gone in a little while, maybe someone else will let slip with something.”

“Fine by me,” Brady said, staring after the departing tanks.

Thorley replaced the headphones and listened as Brady ran through the spectrum between 26 and 28 megacycles. They caught a few more conversations, mostly in that blasted code. He transcribed what he could, hoping that something would jog his mind later, but without knowing what the clear German words were, it would be a guessing game at best.

The tanks took longer to evacuate the area than they had anticipated, and Brady had to change the battery. They scanned the frequencies one last time and Thorley caught the tail end of another conversation. The word Alamein was mentioned again. That clinched it for him. Rommel was up to something, and had no idea that Auchinleck was about to mount a major offensive. The information they had would be invaluable, and from what he knew of El Alamein, it was the perfect ground for a confrontation, the advantage going to those who would be ready and waiting.

After the last tank had disappeared over the next rise and all possibility of surveillance had ceased, they packed up the radio and moved out. The sun fell toward the horizon and a cooling breeze had sprung up when they made their way back toward the spot where the rest of the patrol had encamped. Thorley shivered and made an effort to pick up the pace. He had