They’d been walking for about fifteen minutes when Dawson spotted a distant movement in the trees over to their left and raised his arm to stop Watson.
‘Wait,’ he whispered urgently.
‘What is it?’
‘I just saw something, over there.’
Both men peered in the direction Dawson had indicated.
‘Like what?’ Watson asked.
‘I don’t know, a movement.’
‘Maybe it was a deer or something. Do they have deer out here?’
‘No idea,’ Dawson said, still staring out to the left.
Then they both saw it. About a hundred yards away, a shape like a grey-green ghost flitted through the gathering gloom, moving slowly between the trees towards them.
‘That’s a fucking Jerry soldier,’ Watson spat, as they ducked down behind a clump of bushes. ‘How the hell did they get here so quickly?’
‘Buggered if I know.’
For a few seconds the two sappers just watched the distant figure.
‘I can only see one man,’ Watson said. ‘Where are the others? There must have been a dozen men in that lorry.’
‘I wonder,’ Dawson muttered, his mind working out the logistics and coming up with the only possible answer. ‘That Jerry didn’t follow us here from the truck. That bloody SS officer’s worked out what we’re trying to do.’
‘What? He knew where we’d be?’
‘Not exactly. When he saw we’d dumped the truck to the north of that road, I bet he guessed we’d be heading towards Luxembourg. He’s sent some of his troops through the forest, hoping one of them would spot us. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Fuck me, he’s a cunning bastard.’
‘So that leaves two questions. First, is that soldier over there by himself? And, second, do you reckon he’s seen us?’
Dawson shook his head. ‘I don’t see anyone else. If I’m right, he’s got to be alone. And he can’t have seen us; he’d have fired at us by now, just to get his mates heading our way.’
‘So do we take him out, or what?’
‘We have to. If we move, he’s going to see us. But we can’t shoot him, obviously.’
Watson glanced over at Dawson, then looked back towards the approaching German soldier, then only about seventy yards away from them. ‘Use a knife, you mean?’
‘Yeah,’ Dawson replied, drawing the Mauser bayonet from his belt scabbard. ‘There’s no other choice.’
Both men fell silent then, watching the soldier walking towards them. They could now see him quite clearly.
The German was carrying a Mauser rifle in his hands, his right forefinger resting on the trigger and swivelling his head from side to side as he searched the forest for his quarry.
‘How are you going to do it?’ Watson whispered. ‘If he carries on in that direction, he’s going to miss us by about thirty or forty feet. If you rush him, he’ll hear you coming and shoot you down before you get half-way to him.’
‘I know. Either I have to try and sneak around and get behind him, or …’ Dawson’s voice died away.
‘Or what?’ Watson whispered, not taking his eyes off the enemy soldier.
‘Or we could try a diversion, I suppose.’
‘What sort of a diversion?’
‘You could surrender to him. Leave all your weapons on the ground and stand up with your hands in the air. While he’s looking at you, I’ll creep up behind him.’
‘No fucking chance,’ Watson snapped. ‘I’d lay money these bastards have had orders to shoot us on sight. I’ll machine-gun the fucker myself before I do that, and take the consequences.’
Dawson sighed. ‘Yeah, you’re right. It’s too dangerous. OK, we’ll use Plan B instead.’
‘Which is what?’
‘I don’t know. I’m still working on it. Give me a minute.’
‘We don’t have a minute, Eddie,’ Watson said urgently. ‘He’s only forty yards away. He’ll hear us talking soon. Or step on us.’
Dawson nodded, decision made. ‘OK,’ he said, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘Change of plan. I’ll stand up, my Mauser pointed straight at him. You cover him from here. If he surrenders, we’ll disarm him and knock him out. If he swings his rifle towards me, we shoot him down and then run like fuck.’
Watson nodded. ‘That should work,’ he said.
The two sappers held their breath as the German soldier paused suddenly about twenty yards away. He scanned all around him, then resumed his slow and cautious progress towards them.
Watson aimed his Mauser at the enemy soldier and nodded that he was ready.
Dawson waited until the German looked away from their hiding place, stood up unhurriedly, braced his legs apart and brought the rifle straight up to his shoulder. He pointed the Mauser at his target. At such point-blank range, there was scarcely any need to use the sights.
The German turned his head towards Dawson and did an almost comical double-take when he suddenly saw the British soldier in front of him. He froze, one leg bent in mid-step, and just stared. Dawson could almost see the man’s thought processes reflected in the expressions on his face: first disbelief at the sudden appearance of an enemy soldier only twenty yards away; then recognition that the same soldier was armed with a rifle pointed straight at him; then the realization that his own weapon – his Mauser – was pointing in an entirely different direction; then his life-or-death calculation – could he bring his rifle round to the aim before the British soldier could fire his rifle?
At that point, Dawson very deliberately shook his head and motioned upwards with the barrel of his Mauser.
The German nodded and removed his right hand from the trigger of his rifle. Then, moving very slowly and carefully, he raised his right hand above his head and lowered the Mauser to the ground with his left.
‘OK, Dave,’ Dawson said, his aim never wavering and his eyes staying locked on the German’s face. ‘Go and grab his weapon. Check he’s not carrying grenades or a pistol. Stay clear of my line of fire, just in case he tries anything.’
Watson stood up and walked towards the soldier, holding his machine-pistol in front of him, aiming it straight at the man’s stomach. When he was about six feet away, he motioned with the Schmeisser, gesturing for the German to step back a couple of paces, and only then did he bend down to pick up the discarded Mauser.
‘No pistol or grenades, Eddie,’ Watson called out.
‘Right.’ Dawson stepped forward and crossed over to where Watson and the soldier were standing in a kind of frozen tableau, staring at each other with undisguised hostility.
‘You are both walking dead men,’ the German said suddenly, his English stilted and heavily accented.
‘Probably,’ Dawson replied, ‘but we’re still alive at the moment. If you hadn’t dropped your Mauser, you’d be dead right now and you know it.’
‘You cannot hope to escape,’ the German said. ‘There are twenty soldiers looking for you in these woods, and others waiting outside.’
‘Are they all as stupid as you?’ Dawson asked. ‘Because if they are, we shouldn’t have any trouble walking out of here. Thanks for the intelligence. It always helps to know the exact strength of the enemy.’
The German’s eyes widened in anger and his lips compressed. ‘You will not escape,’ he repeated.
‘Yeah, well that’s up to us, isn’t it? And we seem to have done pretty well so far,’ Dawson said. ‘But you’re wrong about one thing, Fritz.’
‘What?’
‘We’re not trying to escape. We’re on a search-and-destroy mission. We’re trained in sabotage and demolition and we haven’t hit our main target yet, so we’ll be around here for a while. We’re just waiting for the explosives to be dropped for us.’
‘I do not believe you.’
‘Do I look like I give a fuck what you believe or don’t believe?’ Dawson said, then nodded to Watson. ‘OK, Dave.’
Watson stepped behind the German, flipped his helmet forward off his head and cracked the steel butt-plate of his Mauser into the back of the man’s skull. The soldier collapsed like he’d been pole-axed.
‘Hope you didn’t kill him,’ Dawson said. ‘I want him to pass on the intelligence I just gave him to that SS bastard when he comes round.’
‘So we’re on a sabotage mission, are we?’
‘Best I could come up with,’ Dawson grinned. ‘If he survives that crack on the head, it might set the Jerries running round like headless fucking chickens looking for a strategic target in this area, and for somewhere a plane could drop a parachute-load of explosives.’
‘We take his weapon?’
‘No, just the ammunition, and take out the bolt. Don’t want him waking up unexpectedly and firing the bloody thing. Right, let’s get out of here.’
Watson picked up the German’s Mauser, pulled out the bolt and threw it as far as he could into the forest, then pocketed all the rifle ammunition the man had been carrying.
Dawson checked his compass and then both men strode away into the darkening forest.