Beck nodded. "I like the sound of that. I'll take you into the men."
Valentine led the Bears through the wire, past an astonished line of men waiting their turn. "Keep it moving, men. There's going to be shooting, the more of you outside the wire the better."
"Gimme one o' them auto pistols an' I'll give-" one began.
"You'll get your chance soon enough, Corporal," Valentine said, looking at what was left of his uniform. "Move along, men."
They passed into a tent. The stench of the dark tent was palpable, a warm, cloying shroud enveloping them. The men didn't even have cots to lie on, there was just bedding on mats on the ground and some hammocks. "This and the barrack next to it are the only ones they can't see too well from the guards' hut." Beck said. "We were going to open some more holes in the wire from the outside so the others could get out."
The men gaped at the Bears.
"Do you have a signal system between the tents?"
"Yeah, we whistle," Beck said.
"Whistle them to keep their heads down, Captain, if you please."
"Johnson, do the 'watch out' tune. Alert for all barracks," Beck said. A rag-and-bone private let loose with three hacking coughs that could be heard a mile away and began a querulous whistling.
"Nail?" Valentine asked, looking through the tent flap. "What do you think?"
The guards were still piling sandbags around each end of the Quonset hut. Valentine could see a machine gun at the pile opposite the main gate, covering the back of the camp. Too late, guys, we're already in. The other Bears, at a signal from Nail, were opening window-sized gaps in the tenting.
"It's up to you, Lieutenant," Valentine said to Nail.
"They're worried about the prisoners storming the wire," Nail said. "We'll go in through the middle. Two grenades to each end of the hut. Hack, try and get yours behind the sandbags this time."
"Five seconds," Nail said, nodding to Valentine. The Bears pulled the pins on their grenades. He squatted, and motioned for Beck to get down. The men left in the tent fell to the floor. Two Bears threw, the others held the tent flaps open. Everyone covered their ears.
The cry of, "Grenade!" never came; the prison guards must have been some combination of inattentive and poorly trained. Just four explosions, less than a second apart.
"Blitz! Blitz! Blitz!" Nail shouted, tearing open the tent.
The Bears charged the wire. Rain went first. He threw himself at the wire like a breaching dolphin and crashed down on the concertina. He pivoted, holding the wire apart with gloved hand and boot as the other Bears stampeded over him. Valentine brought up the rear, pistol ready, but only smoke and pained cries came from behind the piled footlockers and sandbags. A severed arm had been flung into the wire-its fingers still moved. Groschen threw himself down in the space between the Quonset hut and the wire, his unwieldy Grog gun on a bipod and pointed at the tower. Hack covered the other end of the building. "Motherfucker!" Lost & Found shouted. He made a tight fist and drove his leather-gloved hand through the aluminum in the side of the hut. Brass stuck the Dragon's snake-head muzzle through as soon as Lost & Found pulled his bleeding hand out and the grenade launcher hissed as he swiveled the muzzle : fssssssh fssssssh fssssssh.
Groschen saw a shot and took it, but Valentine ignored the .50 caliber report and its effect.
The grenades roared within the hut, blowing ventilators off the arced roof. Rain got to his feet and grabbed the aluminum in his chain-mail gloves. He planted a foot against the wall. Muscles on his back strained and he peeled open the aluminum side of the hut.
Valentine heard scattered gunfire; Zhao's company was shooting at the tower. He upbraided himself for not giving strict orders to only shoot the tower. The soldiers might start firing at his Bears in the confusion.
Rain extracted himself from the wire and pulled his knife and hooked ax. He plunged into the smoke boiling out of his improvised door. The other Bears followed drawing blades, hatchets and, in Brass' case, a folding shovel.
Nail followed his men in, machine pistol held tight against his shoulder.
Groschen shot again. "That'll teach you to peek," he muttered as he chambered another round.
Valentine heard screams from within the Quonset hut. A Quisling, blood running from his eyes and ears, stumbled blindly out the back door. He hit the sandbags and went over head-down-feet-up like a teeter-totter changing balance. Hack put a single shot into his armpit.
"We surrender. Surrender," a voice from the tower yelled faintly across the yard.
A pained scream bounced off the corrugated walls of the hut. He noticed Captain Beck at his side. "Helluva Bear team you have, Valentine."
Valentine had no time for him. "Throw your guns outta there," he shouted at the tower, his voice dry and hoarse in the smoke and cold night air.
The machine gun and some rifles flew out of the tower. One discharged as it hit the ground.
"Stop shooting, we surrender," the invisible Quisling shouted.