Primal Spillane: Early Stories 1941-1942

Woodman’s Test

With exhausts spitting blue flame and oily smoke, the Curtiss P-40 and the Messerschmidt 110 ripped through the blue sky over the Pacific. They circled warily, each waiting for the moment when the other should make a fatal mistake. Both were peppered with bullet holes. Shreds of fabric trailed in the slipstream, testifying to the marksmanship of the other.

In the P40, Nick Bonner glued his eye to the cross-hairs of the sights, caught the “schmitt” as it blasted across in front of him, and touched the trigger button. A hissing hail of lead ripped into the tail section of the German ship. For a moment it skidded wildly, sliding sideways across the sky. Nick looped in under it, pulled back on the stick until the P40 pointed at the belly of the Nazi plane.

But he never got the chance to blast. His last burst had thrown the “schmitt” completely out control, and in a devilish sideslip, it turned on one wing and drifted once more directly in front of the Curtiss. Nick wrenched hard on the stick... kicked the rudder pedal for all he was worth, but the black-crossed plane tore into his wing with a rending crash!

Both pilots threw back the plexi-glass cowls and squirmed out of their seats. The ships, now tightly enmeshed, spun dizzily, dropping in a free fall. Nick saw the German leap from the wreckage, and glanced down to see where he was. Spinning like a large pinwheel, Nick made out a small island not far off. He drew in his breath, pushed himself clear of the planes and dove into space.

The chute jerked him upright as it boomed open. Swiftly, he hauled on the shroud lines, and no sooner had he slipped to one side, than the screaming remains of the fighting ships shot by, to crash in the ocean moments later! Nick picked out the island and worked his lines so as to drift toward it. It was then that he saw the white mushroom of the German’s parachute outlined against the trees! The fight wasn’t over! He patted the solid bulk of the.45 under his flying suit and grimaced. Two of them, deadly enemies... on an island a mile all around, a thousand miles from civilization! One of them would never leave it!

Slipping out of his chute harness, the German had hit the water fifty yards from the beach. At once he struggled out of his flying suit and swam shoreward, his Luger automatic clenched in his teeth. He, too, foresaw what was about to come, and was prepared. The bullets in the gun were well greased to prevent any trace of water spoiling their effectiveness. His feet touched bottom, and he waded onto the sandy strip of beach, where he fell exhausted.

This much Nick saw. He yanked his own lines even further to hit the center of the island. There was a chance that the Nazi might try to pot him as he floated down, but he was moving too fast to make a good target. The trees came up, and before he could blink, he was in them. Quickly, Nick slipped out of his harness to a branch, then dropped to the ground. Bushes and small trees shielded him well, but he pulled out his gun and held it ready. There was no telling when the other man might creep up on him.

Otto Gress shivered slightly. Without his heavy suit, and wet as he was, the breeze was chilling. Craftily, he watched the American drift earthward, and took careful note where he landed. This would be easy. He, Otto, was skilled in the art of woodcraft.

Night came swiftly, blowing its cold breath through the trees. Nick knew that to light a fire would be dangerous for him, yet something must be done. The worst thing would be to rate his enemy a fool, so he gave him credit for having the brains of any beast of the woods. First, Nick found a stream of clear water, drank his fill, then dragged some rocks to the edge. He arranged them carefully, piled some twigs in it neatly, then laid some heavier tree branches over it. He lit a match, and in a moment had a small, cheerful fire going.

Quickly, he slipped off his flying suit, filled it with grass and leaves, and laid it in a natural position beside the fire. Anyone that looked in from the miniature forest around would certainly mistake the dummy for him! About fifty yards off, his parachute still hung from the trees. Without a wasted movement he climbed up and cut the lines from it. A piece about thirty feet long he fashioned into a lasso, the other pieces were tied together in one long strand. Nick hurried back to the edge of the little clearing around the fire. A single pathway ran into the open space, a logical approach for anyone.

On the edge of the opening were two saplings. Nick looped an end of the rope about one, drew it back in the ground and staked it down with a length of wood that barely held it. The other sapling received the same treatment with the other end of the rope. Now he had a gigantic slingshot. A slight pull on the rope would release the tension and the trees would shoot upright throwing the marauder back into the brush. That noise would be the signal for action! Nick strung the rope across the path, then climbed a tree and went to sleep.

Otto Gress breathed heavily, anticipating the pleasure of killing his hated enemy. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. The first thing that a man would do, he knew, was search for water, then bed down for the night. Experienced eyes and ears had located the stream minutes before, then he smelt the smoke of a wood fire.

“Fool!” he said to the trees. “Such a simple thing to find him now.”

Otto grinned. No doubt the American would expect him to slip in through the woods. Perhaps he even prepared a trap for him.

But at that moment, he came upon the path. A sudden decision prompted him to follow it, being that it was the easiest way to reach the spot. Shadows of the trees hid him well. Moonlight never touched his stocky body as he slid from tree to tree. The smell of the smoke was getting stronger now, and when Otto looked up he saw the thin black outline of the stuff drifting lazily against the moon.

The American was more foolish than he first thought. The fire was a dead giveaway, but to use green wood on it made the game child’s play. The German smiled and checked his gun. He advanced slowly, thinking that perhaps the other flier might be on his guard. He thought out all the possibilities carefully. If he were foolish enough to light a fire, then he would feel secure and fall asleep. However, the man might sleep lightly, and it would not do to take any chances. He would die in the spot that he lay in!

Carefully, Otto slipped down the path. This was a way that was so obvious the American would not expect him to take it. Finally the end was in sight, and there, clearly outlined in the glow of the fire was the body of a man. The German raised his Luger and took careful aim. He squeezed the trigger. Orange flame spat from the muzzle again and again. The body twitched with each shot, but stayed in the same position.

Ha! That did it! Otto walked forward to the edge of the clearing. Then it happened! His foot hit what he thought was trailing vine, there was a sharp rustle of the two trees springing upright, and he was picked up bodily and hurled through the air! He hit a tree with a thud, fell to the ground moaning. At once he realized what had happened He’d walked blindly into a trap! The American was clever, but where was he now? The German shook with fear. Why didn’t the fool rush him? Surely that bundle by the fire was a dummy, and the shots couldn’t have gone unheard! Everything had happened so fast that he hadn’t had time to think. Fear had him tightly in his grasp!

At the first sound of a twig breaking, Nick had awakened. His eyes had quickly become accustomed to the gloom, and he dropped from the tree. As silent as a cat, he had made his way through the brush to the path.

Out of the shadow of a tree a form ran. Immediately it disappeared into another shadow. Nick followed in the other’s footsteps. He could jump the guy at any time, but he’d wait, he thought, and watch the fun. Clearly, he saw the smirk on the other man’s face as he drew his gun and fired. This was going to be worth watching!

Nick ran back a way when the Nazi walked into the rope. He knew the exact spot where he’d be thrown, and waited for the moment. He didn’t wait long. A swish, the thud of a body hitting the tree, the man’s groan told the story. Then, Nick waited behind the tree. He saw the look of fright seep into the German’s eyes, and watched his hands shake.

Otto stared into the darkness, fully expecting a body to fall on him from somewhere. A twig crackled in the bushes and he emptied his gun in that direction. When the hammer clicked on an empty chamber, he threw it to the ground.

A few feet away, Nick smiled. The German was ready to crack under the strain at any moment. Suddenly he let out a wild yell and dashed up the path. Nick sprinted after him, uncoiling his makeshift lariat. He twirled it above his head a few times, then let it snake out. The loop settled around the German’s shoulders. Nick braced himself and jerked. On the other end, Otto screamed once and fell in the dust. A quick leap, and Nick was on him. It took but a moment to have him trussed up like a hog.

Early the next morning a scouting plane spotted Nick’s parachute in the trees. Shortly afterwards a boat set out from the carrier. Nick and the captured German, still well trussed, met it on the beach. There were a lot of wild shouts when the boys saw the pair, and every body shook hands with the flier.

“How’d ya do it, Nick, was it a hard job?”

Nick grinned from ear to ear. “Naw. Ah used an’ ole Kaintucky trick for capturm’ wild pigs! It worked like a charm. This guy was pretty stupid. He walked right into it! Ah guess he must have been born in a city or something, ’cause he didn’t know anything about the woodsman’s tricks!”