Five Past Midnight - James Thayer [126]
Katrin turned to the sound. "What do we—"
He grabbed his bicycle. "Get behind the wall."
The sound was louder. A low growl and a deep grinding.
Cray led her off the mud driveway and into the high grass. The stone wall separated Ulrich Kahr's pasture from the road. Cray lay his bicycle on the grass and lowered himself to his haunches. She put her bicycle down and knelt beside him.
Rocks on the top of the wall had spaces between them, leaving gaps like archers' slits. Cray peered through. "I still can't see them. They've got their headlights covered. They're traveling at night so they won't be found by dive-bombers."
The noise was now a rush of engines and treads, closer every instant, a mechanical yowling. Katrin gripped her coat to herself and leaned against the wall. A frightening sound, and she closed her eyes.
"They aren't after us." Cray blew on his hands. "An armored column on the move, is all. Moving west to east, so the High Command must think the eastern lines need shoring up."
Two motorcycles sped by, then two more, and then several Horch scout cars, and then a dozen Opel Blitz half-track conversions the Wehrmacht had nicknamed Mules.
Cray rose to look through a gap in the stones. Then he leaned close to Katrin so she could hear him. "This unit has been hit hard. Their equipment is a mess. Burn marks and bullet holes. Lots of welded patches. I don't see any spare treads riding on the tank fenders. I'll bet they left most of their equipment behind as junk. A couple of the trucks are towing scout cars." He paused. "And there's a Panzerjager also being towed." A tank hunter.
Next, several trucks with mounted antiaircraft guns rolled by, and then a dozen troop trucks, the canvas sidings down. Next came Henschel 6X4 trucks pulling tanks on trailers. The ground shivered under Cray. Diesel fumes rolled over the stone wall.
Cray said, "Five tiger tanks. One of them has a turret that's skewed to the side, and showing marks of a rocket attack."
The Henschels rolled east and were followed by two more motorcycle escorts. After a moment Cray gripped several rocks on the wall and pulled himself upright. The rumble of engines and treads faded in the east.
When Katrin offered her hand, Cray helped her to her feet. She brushed the back of her coat.
Cray shook his head. "That armored column was probably once an entire brigade, and that's all that's left."
"I feel sorry for Sergeant Kahr." She tucked in her chin against the wind.
"He's lost a lot." Again he reached for her bicycle and rolled it to her. "Like you."
"Do you think the sergeant will go along with what we want?" Ka- trin asked. "He said he will, but do you think he really will, when the time comes? He's a German, and he no doubt loves the Fatherland. And he's taken an oath."
"He wants his son back. Wants him back more than he wants life itself."
Katrin pushed the bike toward the end of the wall. She stepped out from behind the wall and onto the road.
She said, "And will he have the courage?"
The sound of the receding armored column had masked the approaching Kübelwagen. It had almost come to a stop in front of the driveway before Cray saw it. The squat vehicle was the Wehrmacht's equivalent of the American Jeep, and was manufactured by Volkswagen. The passenger—an SS officer in field gray—stood at his seat, gripping the vehicle's window frame with one hand and holding a Luger in the other. Once the vehicle was stopped, the driver pulled a Schmeisser from under his seat. The passenger covered Cray as the driver climbed out of the wagon.
Cray's cap was low over his eyes. He let his bicycle fall to the road.
The officer called, "Get your hands away from your sides. Get your hands up."
Cray lifted his hands.
The officer swung the pistol to Katrin. "You, too."
The officer and driver approached them. The Schmeisser's muzzle was aimed at Cray's sternum.
Katrin stared balefully at them. "I'd heard this, but I didn't believe it until now. The SS follows army columns, looking for deserters. Shooting them."
"Your papers," demanded the officer. His