The Haigerloch Project

If the man searched them — opened Dirk's rucksack and found the OSS radio — it would be all over before it had begun. Back in London they had been assured that they would not be searched in Germany. It wasn't like an occupied country. It was the Fatherland. Not unless suspicion had been aroused for some other reason.

The farmer would have to be killed. Whatever happened…

He could not be left alive to make a report on them. Any half-baked intelligence officer who learned of two strangers showing up immediately after a combat-patrol assault on the front could put two and two together. And the man holding the gun on them could supply an accurate description.

But killing him would also create a problem. Set off a search. And what about the other man?

Whatever they decided to do would be wrong….

He'd been instructed by Corny to let Dirk take the initiative in any situation that called for violent action, and he was more than willing to follow instructions. He had no doubt that Dirk would pull it off. Somehow. But they would have to act soon — before the reinforcements arrived.

Neither of them carried any weapons. It would have been too risky. But he knew that Dirk had been trained to kill — without them. And he would help.

He looked at the farmer with a sudden hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had never killed a man before. What would it be like…?

The incongruity of his thoughts suddenly struck him. Here he and Dirk stood, both unarmed and defenseless, held at bay by a determined man armed with a shotgun the size of a cannon — and he was wondering how they would kill him! He marveled at what a few weeks of OSS training had done to his powers of reason….

“Who are you?” the farmer asked. “Where do you come from?” He looked closely at them. “I myself am Ortsbauernführer Eichler,” he said. “Village leader of Langenwinkel. I know every man around here. That is my responsibility. I do not know you.” He gave a brief nod toward the forest from which they'd come. “There has been much shooting in the restricted zone tonight,” he continued, weighing his words significantly. “That is why we are guarding our village. We are so close.” He peered at the two men before him. “Who are you?”

They did not answer.

Sig's nerves were taut to the breaking point.

Any moment Dirk would fly into action. Sig had to be ready….

“You will say nothing, will you?” the man said. “No matter. We will turn you over to the garrison commander. Major Alpers will know how to deal with you.”

He shifted the weight of his bulk from one leg to the other. For a split second he was off balance.

Now!

Suddenly Dirk spoke.

“Please, Herr Ortsbauernführer!” he whined, his voice shrill with alarm. “Please don't turn us over to the military police! Please! Don't hurt us! I'll — I'll tell you anything you want to know!”

His voice broke. He trembled with fear.

Sig went cold with shock.

Dirk?

The farmer seemed taken aback. He obviously had not anticipated the pitiful outburst.

“Tell me?” he questioned. “Tell me — what?”

“You have already guessed it, Herr Ortsbauernführer,” Dirk said. “I am certain of it.” He paused indecisively. He licked his lips nervously. His eyes flitted quickly toward his partner.

“We are—” he began. “We are—”

“No!” The cry of protest escaped unwittingly from Sig.

“Shut up, Sig!” Dirk spat at his friend “Don't be stupid. Don't you see? It is no use….”

Sig stood frozen as Dirk turned back to the farmer, the picture of servility. He was literally cringing before the man.

“We are — black-marketeers, Herr Ortsbauernführer!” The words poured from him. “Twice every week we have been foraging for food. Eggs. Chicken. Butter. We pay good prices, Herr Ortsbauernführer. We harm no one….”

“Where are you from?” The man sounded dubious.

“Lahr, Herr Ortsbauernführer. We come from Lahr.”

The farmer frowned.

“Lahr is not big enough to have a black market,” he said suspiciously.

“Of course not, Herr Ortsbauernführer,”. Dirk said at once. “Of course not! That is where we live, Herr Ortsbauernführer. Now. We supply a ring. They operate in the city of Freiburg.”

The farmer stared at him. He said nothing.

Sig felt sheepish. How could he have doubted Dirk? They had told him always to try to bluff his way out of a tight situation. Nine out of ten times it would work. He realized he'd been so flustered and tense that he'd been unable to remember what he'd been taught. He vowed to himself it would be the last time that happened.

Dirk was going on.