The '44 Vintage

So dead horses smelt worse than dead men, and dead mules smelt worse than dead horses, but dead cheese smelt worse even than dead mules. That was one thing his dad hadn't discovered in the trenches. . . .

A small, grey, jeeplike car came into view—it was at once more carlike than the jeep, with its high body, but less carlike with its little sloping bonnet carrying its spare wheel and its feeble, whining engine.

Four Germans—no, three Germans and a fourth man in a dark blue uniform and an oversized floppy beret—

The small car—Audley's Kubel it had to be—breaking sharply as the driver saw the wrecked culvert, rocking and skidding almost broadside. The soldier in the passenger's seat half rose to his feet, then ducked as the machine-gunner started to traverse his weapon behind him.

Now there was a second vehicle in view—it was the staff car, a heavy, powerful-looking vehicle with a closed canvas hood and side-screens. Even before it had quite pulled up the front passenger's door had Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

swung open and a civilian wearing a dark felt hat raised himself above the level of the hood without getting out. He stared round suspiciously at the silent woods all around him.

The machine-gunner traversed his weapon left and right, up and down, left and right again. Butler could feel the tension and the fear spreading out from the men in the vehicles, like ripples in a pond lapping over him, making his heart beat faster.

Nothing happened.

Suddenly the blue-uniformed man moved—if that was the French Resistance man in the Milice uniform, then, by God, he was a brave one, thought Butler admiringly. He sprang out of the Kubel and took half a dozen cautious steps to peer over the edge of the gap in the culvert. Then he turned and called to the civilian in the staff car, pointing down into the gap.

The civilian stepped down onto the road and started towards the culvert, swinging to the left and right as he advanced to keep his eye on the woods. When he reached the gap the blue-uniformed man spoke quickly to him, gesticulating into the hole at their feet.

The civilian nodded finally, then swung back towards the Kubel and barked an order. As the Kubel's driver and the man beside him jumped obediently onto the roadway the Milice man eased himself over the edge of the gap into the crater.

A moment later the end of a stout plank appeared out of the crater.

So that was it, thought Butler: there were planks in there, the material of a temporary bridge which had spanned the gap. And the false Milice man was tempting the Germans into replacing them—tempting them away from the vehicles.

One of the rear doors of the staff car opened and another felt-hatted civilian raised cautiously, just as the first one had done.

The scene had fragmented into three separate areas of activity, which Butler found he could no longer observe simultaneously.

Above the staff car's canvas hood the second civilian was scanning the trees intently, just as his predecessor had done; on the Kubel the machine-gunner continued to traverse the gun, searching for a target; and beside the crater the two soldiers were hauling at the plank, under the direction of the first civilian.

Butler's senses all seemed to be stretched to breaking point: he could see every detail below him, he could smell the exhaust gases of the idling engines mixed very faintly with the stronger odour of the leaf mould and forest duff right under his nose; he could hear the sound of the individual engines, and Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

beyond them the very absence of sound, and beneath both the thud of his own heart.

Now!

He was staring at his own chosen objective, the shadowy figure in the back seat of the staff car, when the first shot rang out.

The sound of the shot was overtaken by that of a second shot in the same instant that he saw the machine- gunner start to fall. And then all single sounds were lost in the crashing burst of fire from all around him.

' Come on!' shouted Audley.

Butler hurled himself down the slope. The firing had stopped as though by magic—he could still hear it ringing and echoing—but now everyone was shouting and he was shouting too.

And above the shouting was the continuous blaring of a car horn.

' Hande hoch! Hande hoch!' roared Audley as he sprang onto the road two yards ahead.

Butler saw him leap at the car like a tiger and wrench the driver's door open.

' Ich bin Offizier englischer!' he shouted ungrammatically.

The driver slumped out onto the road and the car horn stopped.

Butler tore at the rear door.

The only remaining occupant of the car was cowering down between the seats on the floor of the car.

' Ich bin Englander,' said Butler to the field-grey back.

Audley thrust himself and his revolver into the front of the car. ' Ich hin Offizier englischer,' he repeated hoarsely. ' Hande hoch.'

The field-grey back began to move.

'Gott sei Dank! Gott sei Dank!'

Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

They had taken their prisoner, and he was undamaged.