The daily monitor leader. [volume] (Mount Clemens, Mich.) 1942-19??, 1942-12-26

from the dark alleyway. SOL
der" it cried. Soldier"
He whipped around, reaching
for his gun. who are you?
What do you WANT His own
voice sounded hollow to him.
II was the doctor, standing in
the shadows, his face pale and
frightened as death. Your name
is Fischer" he asked.
And Karl felt an uncanny
shivering take hold of him. But
he snapped, "Yes. What are you
doing out? What p"
AS he stepped into the shadow
an arm shot forth behind him
with bewildering sped and
locked about his throat.
! Fe cried out and felt heavy
leather sleeve bite into his
mouth. He struggled furiously,
but the arm was like steel. And
at that moment, in frenzy Of
fear and torment, he saw the
doctors gaping, disfigured face
as he lunged forward, the gilt
tering blade of a bayonet held
high.
1t struck.
/ He turned; his head felt heavy
as a stone, and then for the first
time he felt the pain as he
coughed. With a sudden plunge
the earth opened up and he
started falling sickeningly, and
tried to rouse himself, reached
out
But he did not wake.
Only Osterholm and his two
helpers, Oluf and Einar, were
left in the farm yard. They
worked hurriedly and tensely,
emptying the boxes, stumbling
heavily through the drifts, for
the most part silently-the plan
had been developed in detail
hours ago-but now and then
one of them would say quiet
word and glance out through the
icy darkness to the road.
A wagon stood in the court.
Osterholm laid half the shining
rifles in the straw that covered
the space behind the seat, and
then he and the two boys pitched
fork after forkful of dry fodder
on top of them. Afterward they
went to the barns for planks to
make false bottom over the
guns.
Above that they piled fire
wood out of the storehouse,
stacked to the top. The sentries
could pull down half of it and
never see thing. But if one
lowered the tail board and
reached in, there lay the hun
dred and fifty rifles and the long
boxes of cartridges. The rest of
the guns, secure in the cellar
could wait until the revolt had
started. But it would be too dam
gerous to have them all in town.
Despite the dark the clock
read morning. The cocks were
Growing in their coops. Oster-
holm led out the horses. They
shook their hides under the
blankets and reared when they
felt the cold iron of the bit. And
then all five of them, horses and
boys and man jolted out onto
the road with a low-careful
snap of the whip, and the steam
blowing out of them into the
frosty air.
Osterholm pulled a watch out
from under his heavy coat.
Seven o'clock" he said, land
want to be back by dawn. That
gives us two and a half hours.
Half mile down the road
they came to the blockhouse that
had used to be the Schoolmas-
ter's cottage. The walls that had
once been white, with tiny
vines creeping up from the cor
ners, were now reinforced with
concrete. The windows had been
narrowed to Sits, each with its
snout of machine gun poking
out. The whole cottage had
been transformed into a low
gray dome almost hidden in the
snow.
The usual sentry stepped out
into the road as they drew up.
Where to-"
THE village. Load of fire
wood" OSterholm called down.
The soldier slung his rifle up
and clambered onto the wheels
to look.
"A man can't even make a liv-
ing these days." the farmer
grumbled, trying to appear cas-
ual. You fellows poking your
noses into things" He wiped a
sleeve over his mouth and
turned to watch the trooper lift
ing the topmost logs. What do
you think / carry? Dynamite?"
Mind your tongue" the Ger
man snapped. But then he
leaped down and called, "All
right. Get along. Next time don't
start O,If en- ear1vo