Wheels of Terror Read Free

Nails broke and palms blistered as we man-handled the hot, sharp mortar and brick.
    Pluto swung round at the policeman who was rocking on his haunches as he mumbled incomprehensibly.
    'Come here, you stupid old flatfoot. Help us with this shaft,' he shouted.
    As there was no response the giant crossed to Schupo, grabbed him and carried him without effort to the shaft, where we worked on indifferently. The old man bumped down to us. When he got to his feet, somebody thrust a spade into his hand and said:
    'Get weaving, chum!'
    He started digging, and as the work brought him to his senses we didn't worry any more about him. The Old Un was the first to break through. It was only a tiny crack, but through it we could just see a child's hand scratching desperately at the cemented wall.
    The Old Un spoke soothingly into the darkness. But instantly a chorus of children's screams drowned him. It was impossible to calm them. The hole was now bigger, and the little hand was thrust through, but we had to hit it in order to make it withdraw. As we got one hand to shrink away another fought to take its place.
    Stege turned and burst out: 'It drives me mad! We'll break their hands if we have a real bash at this.'
    From the other side of the wall we heard a woman's voice screaming for air, and another shouting: 'Water, water, for God's sake bring water!'
    The Old Un still on his knees, spoke soothingly to them. His patience was enormous. Without him we would all have thrown down our tools and run away with our fingers jabbed in our ears to stifle the mad voices.
    Dawn hardly penetrated the thick suffocating carpet of smoke over the burning city. We worked with gasmasks but were nearly choked. Our voices sounded hollow and far away.
    We had managed to make a new hole. Desperately we tried to quieten the unhappy people in the collapsed cellar. The atmosphere of horror during the raid can be imagined, but only those who have experienced bombs know that they are not the worst. The human spirit's reaction to them is worst of all.
    'Our Father, who art in Heaven,' a trembling voice rose. The pickaxes and shovels clattered on. 'Forgive us our trespasses' - a shrieking bang, splashing, and fire poured everywhere. New, ear-splitting bangs. Another raid? Another stray drop? No, incendiaries!
    We pressed our bodies hard against the very foundations of what had once been the Children's Home.
    'Thine is the Kingdom ...'
    'By God, it isn't,' Porta's excited voice answered. 'It belongs to Adolf - that swine!'
    'Help, O God in Heaven, help us and our children,' cried a praying woman in the cellar. A child sobbed: 'Mummy, Mummy, what are they doing? I don't want to die, I don't want to die.'
    'Oh, God, get us out,' another woman cried hysterically, as a white, well-groomed hand clawed at the hole and broke its polished nails on the cement.
    'Take your hand away, my girl, or we'll never get you out,' Pluto bellowed.
    But the long slim fingers still clawed desperately. As Porta hit them with his buckled belt the skin broke and blood oozed out. With another smack they lost their grip and slid like dying worms away from the crack.
    New explosions. Cries and swearing. Timber hurtled down with stone and gravel into the sparkling phosphorrain. We were trapped on all sides. The policeman lay inert on his back, beaten by exhaustion. Pluto casually rubbed the toe of his boot on his face and said: 'He's had it. The Tommies have dished out more than the old bastard could take.'
    'To hell with him,' Lieutenant Harder retorted impatiently. 'Germany is full of tough-guy policemen. How many poor devils has he put in gaol? Forget him.'
    We got on with our work.
    Then one big explosion, the biggest we had ever experienced, shook the ground under us. Then another and another and another. We flung ourselves headlong into cover and pressed ourselves flat. Those were no stray drops.
    It was the start of a new raid.
    The phosphorus streamed on to the asphalt. Petrol bombs spurted