Murder For Art

Also available from

---

---

Murder For Art - book excerpt

Chapter 1

August 13, 1944

Dan Holloway saw the placement of the two cannons and the .50-caliber big guns below. The monastery was a perfect ambush site for the German and Italian troops, who had taken over. It overlooked a winding highway connecting North Italy to its toe. Any of the Allied troops pushing from Crete and southern Italy had to pass through that bottleneck. Already, two units had been decimated, attempting to get past this choke point.

General Eisenhower called in the elite demolition squad led by Dan. None of the eight-man squad, nor Dan, or any marks of rank. No stripes. No stars. No medals. They were a cohesive team, each man selected by Dan Holloway.

A unit of enemy soldiers patrolled the grounds of the monastery. The easiest way to root them out would have been air power. With the Luftwaffe disassembled for all practical purposes, the Allied superiority in the blue skies was unchallenged. They could reduce the monastery to rubble.

There was one problem, and it was a big one. The monastery was filled with priceless art from the minds of the Masters. These relics could not be replaced. That was one reason the German-led enemy was concentrated in this place. They knew the Americans faced a political cost for turning works of art into ashes.

Dan quickly surveyed the situation from a ledge a hundred yards above the place of worship. He and his team had scaled the mountain a half mile south and maneuvered into position. Now, the real planning started. 

Chapter 2

One cannon was north of the buildings. One was south. Two of the .50-caliber guns were stationed inside the monastery. A third was on the roof. The other two were positioned to protect the cannons.

The patrols around the buildings were regimented, as were most German tactics. Every hour, a squad of sixteen men made a complete circle around the compound. They did not seem to be looking for anything. It was just the German protocol they followed.

Another squad of sixteen combatants guarded the single winding road to the buildings. Unfortunately, this passageway wound its way from the north. To get to it, the Allied forces would first have to pass beneath the Germans' deadly firepower and the few Italians. Dan and his band were too close to the enemy to verbalize their plans. Not that the soldiers below them were quiet. Quite the opposite; the ones off-duty sat in the courtyard next to a fountain, singing and drinking. The war had turned against the men that followed Adolf Hitler, and they knew it.

They were fighting to hold off the inevitable. Sooner or later, the once vast Third Reich would fall. It was merely a matter of time. Mussolini, the tyrant of Italy, had already met his infamous fate. Each of the men drank and sang, knowing their time was nigh.

By their sheer numbers in the monastery fortification, most of the scenarios Dan idealized were quickly discarded. He had only eight men, plus himself. They were facing the enemy that outnumbered them by a twenty-to-one ratio.

The only thing in his favor was that he did not have to kill all of them. He only had to disarm the cannons and the big guns. Only? The task seemed insurmountable, given the circumstances. But it was his job, and some way or the other, he had to get it done. 

Chapter 3

Dan watched the patrol unit. They exited the building on the north side and marched in front of the compound, circling their way all the way around. An idea started to form. Once the patrol passed the .50-caliber gun on the south side, his team had one hour to complete the mission. Taking a minute longer would spell doom.

He passed word through his team with hand signals and a couple of quiet whispers. Every man pulled out his serrated combat knife and checked it. Not that much could happen to a blade, but that was their own protocol. They checked their weapons before use.

Dan led them to a point fifty yards further south than the 50-caliber gun protecting that cannon. The deadly gun was situated almost seventy-five yards from the weapon it protected. A few conifers stood between the three men handling the gun and the four men in charge of the cannon.

Holloway split the unit in half. Four men each. Then he tied the rope around the boulder and descended the sheer cliff. None of the Germans thought to expect an attack from the rear side. The mountain, in their estimation, was too steep of an incline and its sheer cliffs added more protection. Only a fool would try to get to the monastery from that direction … or Dan Holloway and his team.

The leader of the team landed on firm earth without a sound. He was only fifty yards from the .50-caliber gun but could've been fifty miles. The three Germans drank, smoked, and bragged about how they had the Americans at bay. The might of the American fighting force was not that mighty to them now.

Holloway waited until all the members were beside him, crouched and peering through the trees. Then luck helped them out. A German soldier had too much to drink and had to relieve himself. To Dan's surprise, he walked directly at them, stopping only ten feet away. The soldier leaned his automatic rifle against the bottom of the cliff and unbuttoned his trousers. Then he sang to himself as the pressure on his bladder eased.

The German buttoned the top button and, reaching for his rifle, when he felt a strange sensation on his throat. When he lifted up his hand, it came back soaked in blood. The soldier tried to scream but managed only a gurgle.

The first step of Dan's plan was a success.