(Part Two)
"Who, Me?" by Jim Ost
"I suppose you're wondering why you're here." The grandfather clock above the General's head ticked loudly and Geoffrey shifted nervously in the large leather chair. "Yes sir," he said, "but I assume it's not good news." "No", the General spoke, while methodically refilling his pipe, "I'm afraid not. It's the worst kind of news, actually." Geoffrey scowled and waited for the punch line. "Colonel Ross, a father of five I might add, has been captured and is imprisoned in Nazi Germany. According to the Queen, you are the only man qualified to get him out -- fluent in German, 14 medals and commendations, and 10 years of outstanding work in Her Majesty's secret service. "But sir..." "No, I'm afraid the Prime Minister agrees -- you are the lucky one."
"Do you mind if I smoke, sir?" Geoffrey reached into his jacket and drew out a fag. "I guess I picked the wrong week to quit," he thought to himself. Reaching across his desk, the General lit Geoffrey's fag and smiled broadly. "Right; now what equipment will you need?" "I'll need 2 Nazi uniforms -- officer and private -- an auto, a radio, 4 handguns, false documents, and 1,000 pounds in German Marks." Geoffrey rose quickly before the General could respond -- "When will I be leaving, sir?" "In 2 days, Agent Smith. You are a brave patriot and a good man; God save the Queen!" Geoffrey saluted smartly and walked out the huge oak doors..."God save Geoffrey Smith," he muttered under his breath.
"Jail Break" by Nate Johnson
The first guard glanced up and nodded as Geoffrey moved past. His stomach fluttered and he felt the warm flow of adrenalin course through his body. Just a few more cells -- 38, 39, 40, 41! Yes, 41. He pulled out the key and opened the door. "Colonel Ross?" The Colonel, startled by the door opening, was already sitting up in bed. "Col. Ross, I am an agent in Her Majesty's Secret Service. Follow me." Ross nodded and pulled on his boots. "No jacket," thought Smith. "Too bad."
With Ross in tow, Geoffrey began flashing his i.d. at every guard stationed along the catacombs of the Nazi prison, and was let through without question. This was the easy part. It was outside the prison block where problems could arise. Ross continued to follow silently. They found the side door who's lock Smith had picked earlier. "Quickly, Colonel, out this door and into the supply truck!" In a moment, they were out the door and in the back of the large supply truck. It would be leaving at 6:30 am, before the 7:00 am roll call when the missing prisoner would arouse investigation. At least that's the way they prayed it was.
They squeezed uncomfortably behind some barrels and waited. The hours passed slowly. They didn't sleep. They didn't speak. As the first light lighted gleamed through a tear in the truck's canvas roof, a sleepy soldier opened the drivers' door and warmed up the engine. Silently, they were driven out of the prison camp.
"Free at Last" by Deborah Ost
Smith glanced back at Colonel Ross as they made their way through the tunnel. Dehydrated and malnourished as he was, Smith was impressed with Ross' fortitude. Not daring to breathe a word of encouragement, he surged forward. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his pulse hammered in his ears. "Got to get him home," Jeff thought to himself, "One more hurdle, home, home!"
Below, in the guard-house were men who would hesitate not one moment before shooting. Not one second. Voices filtered up from below. He put up a hand to signal Ross to stop. Two Nazis of low rank were discussing off-duty plans. Their corrupt and lewd pleasures made even Smith's stomach turn. "Minds growing gangrene," he thought to himself. "God, I hate Nazis!"
They crawled on when the scum moved off, pausing in like manner when they heard other guards. At the end of the building, they jumped, cat-like, from the duct. The pilfered uniforms they wore were their only protection. "Ross must remain silent and rely on my German," Geoffrey thought to himself. They quickly comandeered a jeep near the entrance of the guard-house and boldly drove toward the border. Smith hardened his features as a young guard questioned him...Smith's flawless German soon intimidated the young guard, and he lept into action, raising the blockade.
As they crossed the border, the guards sensed treachery and began firing their automatic weapons -- Smith tramped on the accelerator and drove for his life. Five blocks into Allied Territory, they knew they were safe. Another successful mission for God and country!