Sam dashes over to the truck and hauls themself over into the driver's seat. You dimly remember them telling you that they grew up above an auto garage in Ohio and their father used to let them help out, so maybe they'll be better at controlling the vehicle. For your part, you draw your revolver, climb into the passenger seat, and prepare.
Sam slowly nudges the truck toward the eastern end of the south face of the rock, resisting any temptation to gun the engine. Your entrance needs to be as spectacular and distracting as possible.
You and Sam make it to the edge, just out of sight of the Nazis round the corner, with no indication that they have heard. Sam nods at you, ready, and then floors the accelerator. The truck screeches forward, kicking up a cloud of desert dust in its wake.
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