The Haigerloch Project

If your own teammate is taken — kill him! Or he will kill you!

Oh, God — no…

He was pushed up against the truck. Around him stood half a dozen white-faced men, staring uncomprehendingly at their captors.

One of the soldiers pointed to a man cowering next to Sig, trembling with fear.

“You!” he barked “Go! Get away from here! Los!”

The man jerked in astonishment. He stared at the soldier. Slowly, not taking his widespread eyes from the SS man, he began to back away.

“Los!” the soldier barked.

The man ran down the street. Sig looked after him. He had been the only one among them who was elderly, perhaps in his fifties….The rest—

Roughly the remaining captives were herded up onto the truck, covered by the SS soldiers. And as quickly as it had appeared, the truck roared off with its load of prisoners.

As they passed the Storp house, Sig cast a glance of despair toward it.

In the window, where the blackout curtain had been drawn slightly aside, he could see a pale, immobile face staring after him.

Gisela….

Oskar almost ran along the darkened street in his hurry to get home His head was awhirl with the troubling rumors he had heard at the yard He must warn his friends at once….

As soon as he entered the house, he knew that something was dreadfully wrong.

A chalk-faced Gisela and a grim Dirk were waiting for him.

Sig had been arrested.

Quickly they told him what Gisela had seen.

“They — they came for him,” she whispered.

Oskar was shaken. “No,” he said slowly. “No, they did not. I came to tell you about it. He was caught. By chance. In a terror raid.” He looked solemnly at Dirk. “I heard about it. At the yard. Some crews of foreign workers were short. The Gestapo has begun a program of haphazard raids. Anywhere. Anyone. It is rumored that they hope to catch two enemy spies.” He looked gravely at Dirk. “You. And Sig. They know about you. They will interrogate everyone they catch in their net Until they find their men….”

He would have been dead, Dirk thought darkly, if he had been caught carrying a gun. As I wanted him to do. Corny was right Absent-mindedly he rubbed his elbow. Had it been he…

He felt the anxiety as a leaden yoke on his shoulders. Sig…

“Already the local jail is full,” Oskar went on. “They are taking the men they round up to the Gestapo prison in T¨bingen. Twenty-five kilometers to the north. It is a very strong prison.”

What the hell is the difference? Dirk thought bitterly. We'd have as much of a chance to spring him from the local jail as from the Gestapo stronghold. None at all.

He looked gravely at the two Germans.

“We have a choice to make,” he said quietly. “The three of us. Sig will talk. We cannot count on him not to break if they question him.” He looked searchingly from one to the other. “The question is — how much time do we have before they come for us?”

Instinctively Gisela moved closer to her uncle. He put his arm around her. Somberly they watched Dirk.

“Our choice is simply this,” he said “Do we clear out now? Hole up somewhere else — until we can get away? Or do we trust Sig to give us enough time to figure a way out of this mess?”

They stared at him.

“If we run,” he said soberly, “we write him off. If we stay” He shrugged.

They remained silent. Dirk's shoulders sagged.

“Oh, hell,” he said tonelessly, “I can't blame you. I have no right to expect you to cling to a chance as ridiculously small as this one.” He looked evenly at them. “Go,” he said. “You can make your way to safety. Before—” He took a deep breath. “I will stay. There's got to be a way. Perhaps — Himmelmann can help. I've got to try….”

His mind was in hopeless chaos. There seemed to be no way out. Yet he knew there always was one. If you could only see it. He tried to harness his racing thoughts. If the Gestapo picked up people indiscriminately, they could not possibly conduct full-scale investigations or interrogations. Not of everyone. Not possibly. They would have to let them go after a screening — unless they had reason for real suspicion. Sig was not a professional. Would he panic? Perhaps he would be able to convince his captors that he was okay before they got around to investigating him in depth, to checking up on his cover story? He knew before he had finished the thought that it was a forlorn hope. Nothing more. Yet if Sig were to get out, the Gestapo would have to allow him to go free. By their own choice. It was the only way. But — how? How? At least — at least he did not have to concern himself with the final alternative. Sig was too valuable to the Nazis to let them squeeze his brain dry. Should he not go free, he would have to die. About that, at least, he, Dirk, could do nothing. He did not have that choice to make. Perhaps Sig himself….

He turned away from the others. He did not want them to see his despair.

He was aware of Gisela quietly walking toward the kitchen.

“I will make some hot soup,” she said softly.