The '44 Vintage

with his head towards the German. 'Me and the kraut—we're just a couple of innocent bystanders . . . Say, Captain—did you really try and kill the Fuhrer? I heard tell someone tried to blow him up just recently—was that you?'

Captain Grafenberg looked around him a little wildly, from the American to Audley and back. As well he might, thought Butler bitterly: if ever there was a case of au s dem Regen in die Traufe it was now.

'No— nein,' he said hoarsely.

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

'Well, Captain, I wouldn't deny it if I were you. Right now, in this company, I'd say I did it and I was just sorry it hadn't worked out. Because that's going to be almost as good as saying that you voted for FDR in the last election—if you say it loud enough and often enough they'll probably make you a general after the war, if you live so long.' Winston winked at Butler. 'If any of us live so long, that is.'

The German captain looked at Audley. 'Lieutenant ... if you please . . .' He trailed off miserably.

'Okay!' Winston lifted his hand. 'So he didn't try to kill the Fuhrer. But I still think I've given him good advice.'

Butler was suddenly aware that his foot hurt again, and that there was a dull pulse of pain centred on his ear. But he was also conscious that his physical problems were now minor ones.

'I bloody wish you'd give us some good advice,' he said before he could stop himself.

'Shit, man! You've already got my advice,' said Winston conversationally, lifting up his finger. 'Next time this old car slows down you take your bayonet and you stick it in lover-boy—and then you run like hell.'

Butler stared at Pierrot's back.

'That's right!' Winston nodded round the German. 'Only don't include me when you do it. Because as of now you two are on your own —you and the French can double-cross each other until you're blue in the face. The man didn't draft me to get mixed up in private fights.'

Butler was no longer listening to him, but was staring at the countryside round him for the first time.

They were coming out of the woodland at last, into a more open terrain of fields and copses, well cultivated but un-English as usual in its lack of hedges and proper ditches, and distinctively French with its line of spindly trees marking the straight road that climbed the ridge ahead of them.

Butler met Audley's eyes and read the same conclusion in them: if they were going to make a break for it they needed better cover than this; a forest for choice, but woodland of some sort for sure if they were to outrun the machine gun on the Kubel.

But without the sergeant . . .

He looked at the American.

'No sir!' Winston said quickly. 'I mean it. I don't mind running away from Germans—that's part of the deal . . . but running away from Germans and Frenchmen—'

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

' Sssh—' The German sat bolt upright between them, his manacled hands raised.

'What the hell—' said Winston.

'Jabo!'

'What?'

The German was listening intently. 'Jabo!' he repeated.

'Year-bo?'

Grafenberg turned on him. 'Jabo—Jabo!' He switched to Audley. 'Lieutenant— Achtung, Jagdbomberen

— fighters!'

Butler heard the snarl of aircraft.

'Oh, sure!' Winston ducked his head to peer through the side-screen. 'I've got them . . . Mustangs, two of them ... no sweat, Captain—they're ours, man.' The engine note changed.

'No—no— no! ' Grafenberg's voice cracked. “We are the enemy— du lieber Gott!— don't you understand?'

'Oh my God!' whispered Audley. 'He's right We're the enemy!'

'Oh, Jee-sus!' exclaimed Winston, ducking down to peer out of the side-screen again. 'Now I've lost them —'

'Down the road—they'll be coming down the road—' Grafenberg hunched himself down to get a view ahead.

'So we better get off it.' Winston shook Pierrot's shoulder. 'Fighter-bombers, man—we gotta get off the road.'

The car swerved. ' Qu'y a-t-il?' protested Pierrot angrily.

' Des— bloody hell!— des chasseurs . . . no, des chasseurs-bombardiers —Us vont nous attaquer,'

shouted Audley desperately. ' Quittez la route, pour l'amour de Dieu—quittez la route!'

Pierrot rocked away from him. ' Que voulez-vous dire—?” He did a double-take of