Major Von Duesen and his men waited at the edge of the depression for several minutes. They strained to hear the two men they’d been following. Had they stopped to rest or to catch a field mouse for supper? Von Duesen had no idea. Only the sound of his own ragged breathing disturbed the silence. Where were they? The dried pond was not that big and the moon was bright. He should be able to see them!

Sergeant Eberhardt returned to his side.

“Mein major?” he asked.

“Sie müssen Geister sein, Sergeant,” Von Duesen said. They must be ghosts.

He studied the terrain. In truth, there were many places for two men to hide. Perhaps they had realized they were being followed and hidden among the rocks and bushes. Motioning to his men on the opposite side, Von Duesen gestured for them to go down into the depression and search for their quarry.

“Forward, Sergeant,” he said. “We will comb the area. The Juden are here. I am certain of it. But be careful. They could be armed.”

The two men crept slowly down the incline, their machine guns held at the waist, ready to fire. If the fugitives tried anything, they would be cut down like a scythe slashing through wheat. The Germans moved cautiously and quietly.

Working as a team, they investigated each rock and tree, each cluster of bushes and copse of trees. But so far the men were nowhere to be found. It was as if they had turned to mist and faded away. Von Duesen watched his two privates working their way toward him. They moved in concert, just as he and Eberhardt did, making sure each possible hiding place was clear before moving on.

Several more minutes passed. Periodically, Von Duesen would signal the squad to halt, so they could listen for the rustling of clothing, the gasp of a breath, the beat of a heart. But he heard nothing. Von Duesen was baffled.

One hundred meters remained between the major and his two privates. The ground was rocky, the boulders that littered it large. If the Juden were still here, this would be where they were hiding.

“Be ready, Sergeant,” he whispered.

“Ja,” Eberhardt answered.

A boulder nearly the size of an automobile stood directly ahead of them. Von Duesen went left and Eberhardt to the right. They leapt around the boulder, guns at the ready. But the Jews were not there. Behind them they heard a rustle in the bushes. Von Duesen turned quickly, prepared to fire. But before he could pull the trigger, a large hare bolted from the underbrush and darted away.

Von Duesen took a breath to calm his nerves. Silently, he cursed himself. A soldier of the Reich did not jump in fear at the appearance of a rabbit. A gestapo major was not afraid of two Jewish peasants. This was ridiculous. He needed to remain calm. And to find what he was looking for.

He waved his gun, motioning Eberhardt forward. Another large boulder lay ahead of them, and they repeated their crawl around it. Von Duesen peered around the opposite side of the boulder expecting to find two huddling Jews. But that was not what awaited him.

Sitting on the ground were two milk cans. The very ones the two Juden had been carrying. Von Duesen kicked one of them as hard as he could. Water spilled out and ran through the dirt in tiny rivulets. Just as he feared, his squad had been discovered.

But where had the Jews gone? They had to be somewhere.

His men joined him at the giant boulder. They looked at the milk cans and then at the major with disbelief on their faces.

“Did you see anything?” Von Duesen demanded.

“No, mein major,” they answered in unison.

Von Duesen paced back and forth. Somehow, he had been outwitted. He had figured out where the fugitives were, yet they still managed to elude him. When he finally caught them he would make them wish they had never been born. They would tell him everything. Everything. They would reveal the location of every Jew in the entire area.

“Tomorrow,” Von Duesen said. “Tomorrow, we come back during the morning hours. We will bring additional men and search every stone and shrub in this area. We will find out how these Juden managed to escape the gestapo. Is that understood?”

“Ja, mein major,” his squad answered.

“Heil Hitler!” Von Duesen said, giving the Nazi salute, which his men returned.

Von Duesen clenched his fists, turned, and retreated, his men struggling to keep up with their superior. The empty milk cans watched them go.