Currently viewing the tag: "Brian Johnson"

A serial fiction story for your enjoyment

written by James Rada, Jr.

5: On The Move

Brian Johnson had a plan to assassinate President Franklin Roosevelt. It didn’t matter that Brian didn’t know where the president was. He knew the man would come to him, and when he did, Brian would kill him.

He was a German spy, posing as an American serviceman. Luckily, he had been recruited to be a member of the OSS, the Office of Strategic Services, which was America’s newly created spy agency.

Since learning Roosevelt would be at his secret retreat near the camp, Brian had been obsessed with finding the president and assassinating him in the name of the Fatherland. He had found where he believed the retreat shared a border with the OSS camp. An 18-wire barbed-wire fence separated the two properties.

Brian had been digging a furrow under the fence for the past few days and disguising his work with loose dirt and grass. He had considered cutting the wire, but he didn’t have the tools he needed. He also suspected the wires were alarmed. However, because the retreat bordered a military camp here, it didn’t have sentry booths or floodlights like Brian had seen where the borders of the camps diverged. No one expected trouble for the president to come from a military camp.

Brian didn’t know how much time he had before Roosevelt came here. He had given up all his clothing and personal items when he had been recruited, so he had no watch or calendar to know what day it was or even the time of day.

However, he knew when the president arrived because on that day, the shooting range at the OSS camp closed. He had heard Colonel Smith on a phone call say he would do this, so as not to disturb the president during his time away from Washington.

The morning Colonel Smith announced the range would be closed until further notice, Brian knew it was time to act. However, he couldn’t slip away in the daylight hours. It would be too easy for someone to miss him.

He waited until after everyone had turned in for the night. Usually everyone was so exhausted from the day’s training, they fell asleep quickly. Brian lay in his lower bunk with his eyes closed, listening to the other men in the cabin. Their breathing became slower, except for the trainee called Douglas. He snored lightly.

When Brian was sure everyone was asleep, he slid out of his bunk, grabbed his clothes and boots, and walked to the door. If anyone asked, he would say he was going to the bathroom. Outside, he dressed quickly and followed the trail by memory to the fence. Only when he was far enough away from the buildings did he turn on his flashlight. He kept it pointed downward to minimize how far it illuminated. With the president visiting, the guards would be on a higher alert than usual.

He found the fence and then moved along it until he found the spot where he had been digging. He had filled it loosely with dirt and grass, so that it wouldn’t attract attention if a guard happened to stumble on it.

He uncovered some rudimentary tools he had been using and a few sheets of newspaper he had found in the garbage. He folded the pages and twisted them into a point. He had been trained how to do this during his classes on unconventional weapons, where he was learning to turn everyday items like combs and toothbrushes into weapons. His paper knife would probably only work as a knife once, but that was all he needed it to last. He could use it to gain an actual weapon.

Brian knelt down and scooped out the loose dirt. Then he lay on his back and wiggled under the fence. It was a tight fit, but he made it onto the president’s property without creating any noise.

He waited and listened to make sure he hadn’t attracted the attention of a sentry who might be patrolling.

From this point on, he was breaking new ground. He walked away from the fence, deeper into the woods. He tucked his tools into his waistband. He carried his paper knife in one hand and his flashlight in the other hand.

He kept the flashlight off as much as possible. He didn’t want to risk being seen, and he wanted to be able to see any lights in the distance that could lead him to his target.

He had no idea how much time had passed, but he would be noticed missing when all the recruits woke in the morning. He hoped he could complete his mission and make it back to the cabin before that happened.

Brian stopped when he heard movement. He squatted and listened. Then not only did he hear branches being pushed away, he saw a flashlight come on. The beam shone off to his left. A Marine guard was patrolling and must have heard Brian.

He waited, hoping the man would think that whatever he heard was just an animal and move on. He tried to control his breathing and minimize his exhalations.

Then the light swung further away from Brian, only to swing quickly back and land on Brian.

“Stay where you are!” the Marine shouted.

Instead, Brian launched himself at the man. The Marine reached for his pistol.

Brian tackled him and they landed on the hard ground. He stabbed his paper knife into the Marine’s neck. He felt a hard impact, but the paper blade crumpled without penetrating the Marine’s neck. So much for his OSS training. He smashed his fist into the man’s throat so that he couldn’t scream for help.

As the Marine struggled for breath, Brian punched him in the face until the man stopped moving. Brian checked for a pulse. The Marine was still alive. He could regain consciousness at any time. Brian pinched the man’s nose closed and held his hand over his mouth. He counted off two minutes and checked again for a pulse. He didn’t feel anything. He hoped the Marine was dead. Brian didn’t want him interfering with his plans.

He took the man’s rifle and pistol off him and stood up. He didn’t think the fight had alerted anyone. At least Brian didn’t hear anyone rushing toward him.

He continued moving in the direction he thought the Marine had come from. He came to a dirt road. He felt he was getting closer. All he should need to do would be follow the road. The question was which direction should he go?

He made a gut call based on how he felt the Marine had been marching and went left. Within a few yards, he heard a vehicle coming along the road and saw lights in the distance. He quickly hid himself behind the brush along the road. A Jeep drove by without slowing.

Brian walked back out to the road and started jogging the direction the Jeep had gone. This was taking longer than he had hoped and he hadn’t even located the place where the president was staying.

He had to find it soon if he wanted to get back to his cabin in time.

After running for a couple minutes, he thought he noticed light on the horizon. He slowed to walk when he noticed the light was getting brighter as he moved closer. He got off the road and moved into the trees.

Then he reached a slight rise and looked over. The light had been coming from lampposts around a very large hunting lodge. He also noted a few outbuildings that were large cabins.

Brian had found the president’s retreat.

You Won’t Know Until Your Hair Turns Gray

by Sue E. Clabaugh

You won’t know until your hair turns gray, how I’ve loved you

since that first day when I saw you there in your little pink blanket.

How my heart stopped every time you smiled

And what it meant to me to welcome you into my life.

You won’t understand what it meant to see you grow

and to know that I had been a part of those first years.

You won’t know why I took you to church and Sunday School

and the Golden Rule was how I wanted you to live your life.

How learning to walk to the altar to light the candles with your Pappy

gave you courage and made you happy that you had no fears

Which you have carried through the years—in all you do.

You won’t know until your hair turns gray

Why I sat on the bleachers in the heat of the sun

To see you run when you hit your first ball

Or why I froze just to help you make that snowman that you wanted to call Paul McCartney.

Oh and teach you to hold that pinkie up

While holding your cup at our very best tea party.

And then would help you make a cake

With leaves, grass, cinnamon and seeds from the magnolia tree

Just to see you feel like you were the best, when in truth

I needed a rest—but chose you and your joy.

You’ll never know until your hair turns gray

How I loved you day after day

Because you changed my life.

Gave me a cause to be more than just an old lady.

Gave me a reason to live life over again

To be happy when others said “You’re out of your head”

At your age to take on all that.

So, when you grow older and find

that there are days when you are kind

To others and it makes you feel better

Because you did.

When you’re no longer a kid but a woman with children,

Of your own, and teach them to pray

And always say they are brave.

When you have that moment when you play

And pretend that leaves with cinnamon and magnolia seeds will stay

To be shared at your tea party

With your pink plastic cup—with your pinkie up

That’s when you will say

So that’s what she meant when she said

You’ll never know until your hair turns gray!

A serial fiction story for your enjoyment

written by James Rada, Jr.

4: Preparing

Brian Johnson had discovered where President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s top secret getaway in the Maryland mountains was hidden. It was one piece of the puzzle he needed to find before he could kill the president in the name of the Fuhrer.

He jogged back to his cabin in the OSS training camp to change before his training as an OSS agent began in another hidden camp in the mountains. When he arrived, he saw a pair of soldiers standing guard outside.

He stopped running and walked in circles to catch his breath. It gave him time to think.

Why were they there? They had never had guards outside the cabin before. Had someone gotten suspicious about him?

Brian approached the cabin entrance, but one of the guards held up a hand.

“You’ll have to wait out here for now,” the burly man said. Although the guards wore uniforms, no branch of service was identified, which meant they were OSS agents.

“Why? I need to get changed before my first class,” Brian said.

“The colonel is inside and ordered that no one can enter.”

The colonel? Colonel Smith was in charge of the camp. Brian kept the panic he felt under control. He had created a problem by acting outside of the norm with the run. It was a risk he had needed to take to get information. Now he needed to act within the norm and act as if nothing was wrong.

“I’ll get a shower then. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get back inside then to get fresh clothes.”

The guard said nothing as Brian turned away and walked to the shower house. The small building had four shower stalls inside. Two of the stalls had other recruits from his cabin taking showers.

As Brian stripped out of his sweaty clothes, he said, “Did you see the guards outside of our cabin? They wouldn’t let me inside.”

“They sent us out, too,” a recruit called Jack said. No one in the camp used their real names as a security precaution. Brian’s fake name was Adam.

“Are they looking for something?”

“Who knows? They said it was an inspection, and we needed to leave.”

“Weird.”

“What isn’t in this place?”

Brian stepped into the water stream. It was cold and quickly cooled his hot skin.

Jack was right. Most likely, it was just an odd way they did things in this camp, but Brian was a spy inside a camp that trained spies. He had to be very careful, or he would be captured. Even if they suspected him of something, they wouldn’t find evidence of it in his things or in the cabin. The only personal things he had here were what he had been wearing when he arrived from Miami University in the truck.

He finished showering and redressed except for his sweaty shirt. He walked back to the cabin and saw the guards were gone. When he went inside, everything looked normal. Jack was making his bunk.

“See? They’re gone. No problem,” he said.

“They had you leave without making your bunk?” Brian asked.

“Yea, but I’m not going to risk that now.”

Brian nodded, but said nothing. If the colonel had been inspecting the cabin, an unmade bunk would have warranted some sort of demerit, but apparently not. That made it doubtful that the colonel’s visit had been an inspection.

Brian looked around. What had changed then? Had anything? Why had the colonel been here?

Brian wondered if the room had been bugged. Were spies spying on the spies to see if any of them disobeyed orders while in the cabin?

This was a world of suspicion and deception Brian found himself in.

Their morning instruction that day was in the art of safecracking from someone named Capt. Peters. Peters was a small man with thinning hair and a scar across his neck. He grinned every time someone called him captain, which made Brian doubted that he was actually military. He knew his work, though. He showed the recruits the insides of combination locks so they could understand how they worked. Then he showed his group different ways of opening those locks, from feeling for the tumblers to fall into place while turning the lock dial to drilling through the tumblers to blowing up the safe door without destroying the contents.

Brian was so fascinated by what he was learning, he forgot about planning for his own mission for a while.

During lunch in the mess hall, Brian wondered whether he could break into the colonel’s office. It would have maps and information that would make Brian’s planning easier. However, the cabin had two rooms; one was the colonel’s office, and the other was his aide’s. Besides being their offices, they also slept in the rooms. Although Brian believed he could break into the office, it would be too dangerous to try to enter. Too many people were around during the day who might see him and the colonel and his aide were there during the night.

The afternoon training session was on the “trainazium.” Brian had seen nothing like it before, except for perhaps in a circus. He reported to a clearing with other recruits and saw six telephone-pole-size logs were set into the ground and connected by smaller poles 18 feet above the ground. They were criss-crossed with ropes, nets and cables going every direction.

“This monstrosity is an obstacle course,” Lieutenant Price told them. “Your work in the OSS will challenge you physically, not only in strength, but in dexterity. This course will help you learn to deal with those challenges.”

The recruits then spent the next few hours swinging, running, and climbing along the poles and ropes as if they were monkeys making their way through the jungle. Brian was so exhausted at the end, he could barely open his hand so that it was flat.

After dinner, when Brian was supposed to be going to the latrine, he wandered off toward where he knew the fence to Shangri-La was. He stayed in the shadows as he approached the fence. He spotted Marines on the other side and was satisfied that was where the president would be when he visited.

He also realized he knew how he could get a weapon, and as far as getting through the fence, he didn’t need to get through it. The OSS had been teaching him to think of solutions to problems that were unusual. Yesterday, he had learned to create a knife from a newspaper. Now he could put that newspaper knife to use. As for the fence, he would go under it.

Once he did that, though, it would set things in motion, and he would be committed to his mission. He would have to move fast to make things happen in his favor. He would try to survive, but that was not his mission. He had to focus on killing President Roosevelt, even if it was the last thing he did.