The '44 Vintage

The question caught Butler by surprise.

'That's what I thought,' said Winston. 'Like The Charge of the Light Brigade, starring Enrol Flynn, you don't think—not until the lieutenant has passed on the thought to you—'

'Balls!' snapped Butler. 'There isn't anything to think about. We just don't kill prisoners.'

'You don't?' Winston raised his voice in scorn. 'Well, I think you've got a lot to learn, Jack old buddy.

In fact—'

'Bloody shut up—both of you!' said Audley angrily. 'Hauptmann Grafenberg . . . would you please tell us what it is you've done?'

Grafenberg straightened himself but didn't answer.

Audley waited patiently.

'I am sorry,' said Grafenberg finally.

' You're sorry—' Winston exclaimed.

'Hush!' Audley paused. Then he pointed at Winston, without taking his eyes off the German's face.

'Sergeant . . . Frank Winston, United States Army.' With the other hand he pointed at Butler.

'Corporal . . . Corporal Jack Butler, Lancashire Rifles.' He tapped his own chest. 'Audley, David . . .

second lieutenant, Queen Charlotte's Own Royal South Wessex Dragoons.'

Chandos Force, thought Butler irrelevantly—the real Chandos Force, even though it had lost its way en route to its unknown target. But then Hauptmann Grafenberg could hardly be expected to know that.

But also he knew why Audley had made the introduction so formally: if we're going to fight for you, Hauptmann Grafenberg, at least we're going to know whyl

'I am sorry.' Grafenberg looked at each of them in turn, lastly at Audley. 'Second Lieutenant—'

Second Lef-tenant—

'—I have not done . . . anything at all.'

'What?' said Audley. 'Nothing?'

Grafenberg shook his head.

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

'Well'—Audley's voice cracked—'what's in the briefcase, for God's sake, man?'

Winston nodded meaningfully to his right, past Butler's shoulder. 'I think we're just about to find that out, Lieutenant.'

Butler twisted round in the direction of the American's nod, to find the Frenchman coming towards them again. He was aware of the Sten in his hands, still cocked and dangerous. But now it felt curiously heavy

—heavy with the memory of the German machine-gunner who had been picked off with that first sniper's shot before he could squeeze his trigger.

The Frenchman faced Hauptmann Grafenberg. 'Erwin Grafenberg, Hauptmann, 924th Anti-tank Battalion?'

'Jawohl.'

'So!' The Frenchman turned on his heel towards Audley. 'Where do you wish to go?' he asked.

'Where—?' Audley swallowed. 'Yes . . . well, if you'd just give us one of these vehicles . . . then we'll follow our noses.'

'What is the name of your Operation?'

'Our Operation?'

'Yes. Your Operation.' The Frenchman's tone was polite but firm. 'It has a code name, naturally.'

'Oh yes—naturally. Of course, that is . . .' Audley nodded. 'Yes, it has.'

'Which is?'

'Which is none of your business, m'sieur, I think,' said Audley firmly.

'Oh Jesus Christ!' murmured Winston. 'Here we go again!'

'You want a vehicle, Lieutenant,' said the Frenchman.

'No. I was promised a vehicle—by you.'

'In exchange for a prisoner.'

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

They stared at each other obstinately.

Suddenly Sergeant Winston stirred restlessly, looking first to the right, then to the left, then behind him.

'Hell now . . . I've been thinking'—he looked seriously at Audley, then at the Frenchman—'do the krauts ever come this way normally?'

'M'sieur?'

'I mean—do they come this way if you don't steer 'em this way? Like, it seems a kind of quiet back road, I mean.'