The German raised himself from the floor and turned towards them. He took in both of them carefully for a moment before settling on Audley.
'Lieutenant,' he said in English that was only slightly accented, 'I surrender myself to you.'
Then, as they stared at him in surprise, he raised his hands in what Butler thought for a second was supplication.
They had taken their prisoner right enough—and he was a German officer too.
And he was also all of twenty years old.
And he was handcuffed.
14.
'
Butler pulled back from the staff car and swung towards the American in alarm.
'
For a moment Butler thought the sergeant had been hit; then, even before the evidence of his own eyes cancelled the thought, he realised that wasn't possible. The enemy hadn't had time to fire a shot, and from the moment Audley had jumped up from cover the French hadn't fired another one. The ambush had been over ten seconds after it had started.
And besides, Sergeant Winston was obviously not wounded: he was standing stock-still on the edge of the road behind the staff car, his Luger pointing at the ground beside him. He was simply staring towards the crater.
Butler followed the stare. The man in the Milice uniform was rolling the body of a soldier over onto its back— the jack-booted legs seemed unwilling at first to follow the torso, but finally twisted with it, splaying out stiffly and horribly like a dummy's.
He looked back at Winston. Somehow there must be more to it than that. Winston might not be a battle-Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage
hardened veteran, but he hadn't behaved until now like a man who'd be scared sick at the sight of death.
He might not have seen any fighting Germans until today, but he must have seen enough of that on Omaha Beach, by God!
'What's the matter?' he said sharply, the disquiet he felt edging out concern from his own voice.
'The matter?' Winston repeated the words under his breath before turning to him. 'The matter is—you were goddamn right, mac—we are the fucking Indians.'
'What's this?' Audley straightened up beside them. He took in Winston's stricken expression, and then the scene at the edge of the crater, where the Milice man was methodically stripping the Germans. His bruised cheek twitched slightly as he turned back towards the American. 'He's dead, for God's sake.'
Winston watched the Milice man. 'Yeah . . . he's dead'—he paused
'Now?' Audley stared at the American, then back at the Milice man, and then finally at Butler. 'Did you see, Corporal?'
'I saw,' Winston snapped. 'I saw.'
Audley bit his lip. Suddenly he looked around him nervously.
'That's right, Lieutenant,' said Winston. 'You take a good look.'
There were Resistance men coming down the road behind them, and others advancing through the trees across the road. Up the hillside Butler could see more of them.
He caught Winston's eye and knew that now he was frightened too.
Winston nodded. 'You got there, mac—Jack, huh? You play with Indians . . . and they play rough.'
'But—' Butler could see the little man in the suit picking his way round the crater. He was trying to keep his shoes clean.
'So we've got them their general, like they wanted,' said Winston.
Their general? Oh, God! thought Butler, remembering the white-faced boy in the staff car—the boy in the handcuffs who had just a moment ago thanked the same God.
'So now we're maybe surplus to requirements,' said Winston.
Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage
'Cock your Sten, Corporal,' said Audley.
'What?'
'Cock the bloody thing!' Audley hissed at him. 'Cock it and smile!'
Butler looked down at the machine carbine and saw to his horror that it wasn't cocked. He'd charged down the hillside shouting like—like an Indian. But he hadn't remembered to cock his gun.
The little man in the suit came towards them.
Audley ostentatiously replaced his pistol in its holster. Then he took four quick paces towards the Frenchman and threw his arms round him.
