The narrow road which led to the village of Hofberg never saw much traffic, even in the middle of the day. This, for the task facing the Stalag 13 team, was a distinct advantage.
With the target likely to show up at any moment, there was no time to come up with an elaborate plan. Instead, the prisoners used a tried and tested method of interception. All they needed was a fallen tree large enough to block the road, but not too heavy to be towed into place by the staff car, and in this stretch of old forest, fallen trees were easy to find.
Once the trap was set, Carter took up position in front of the improvised roadblock, just as if he'd been posted there. The other four men faded into the sun-dappled cover of the trees on either side. They didn't have to wait long.
"He's in a big hurry," observed LeBeau, lifting his head as he caught the sound of an approaching car.
"You're right there. Whatever Colonel Hogan's done to put the wind up him, it's worked a treat," murmured Newkirk. "I only hope he's not going so fast that he ends up running Carter over."
He was feeling pretty tense. Hogan hadn't actually put him in charge of this mission, but his Oberleutnant uniform made him the ranking officer, and the others, even Carter, had tacitly allowed him to take the lead.
As the car came into sight, Carter, the model of a German soldier assigned the thankless task of standing guard over a road hazard to warn oncoming traffic, stepped forward, holding up his hand, just as though he expected it to stop. It did, with a skid and a jerk, barely three feet from his legs.
From behind the undergrowth, his buddies watched closely as he walked up to the car and spoke to the driver. A few words were exchanged, then Carter stepped back, scratching his left ear to signal that Mills didn't seem to be in the car.
"Does that mean we can shoot?" whispered LeBeau.
Newkirk considered, then shook his head. "Better not. They could have shoved the poor blighter in the boot. Once they're out of the car, if they put up a fuss, that's another matter."
Carter, still in character, pointed towards the obstruction, and stepped back as the driver opened the door and stepped out onto the road. The two men walked over to the tree, and the driver, after giving it a shove with his boot, turned and beckoned for the other SS man to come and help. Graf got out as well, but only to watch.
Newkirk nudged his companion, and they moved out of the trees. From the other side of the road, Hammond and O'Brien did the same. The two SS men were too busy to notice, but Graf, attracted by the movement at the edge of his field of vision, turned sharply.
"What is this?" he snapped, glaring at Newkirk who was closest. "Schäfer – Hahn!"
Letting go their efforts to move the tree, his men swung round and reached for their rifles.
"Don't even think about it. Not unless you want to be shot," said Newkirk brusquely, while Carter and O'Brien moved in to disarm the two thugs.
Graf appeared to have grasped the situation quickly enough, but there was no bluster in his manner, only the cold anger of a man accustomed to being in control. "Who sent you? Was it Burkhalter? Does he really believe he can order such an outrageous action against a Gestapo officer, and not suffer the consequences? He will find he is very much mistaken."
It wasn't surprising that he'd leapt to the wrong conclusion, given his history with the general, and as far as Newkirk was concerned, it was a bit of luck. The longer the evil sod thought Burkhalter was behind the ambush, the better.
Meeting Graf's arctic stare with unimpaired calm, Newkirk replied in German: "Perhaps the general thinks he needs to take decisive action, since someone's trying to kill him. I wouldn't know about that. I just follow orders, and my orders are to detain anyone traveling along this road, by any means necessary. Keep your hands up." He stepped forward to search Graf's pockets, taking possession of a Walther pistol, while LeBeau kept him covered. The Frenchman wouldn't actually shoot the man in cold blood, but if the glower in his eyes was anything to go by, he'd welcome an excuse, and Graf knew it. He submitted to Newkirk's not overly gentle manhandling without resistance.
Newkirk gestured to Hammond to join him, and moved a little distance away. "You'd best get the car off the road," he said in a low voice. "And have a good look inside while you're at it. It doesn't look like they brought anyone along, but if they did, we want to make sure he's all right."
Hammond nodded, and turned towards the car, but jerked back sharply as a scuffle broke out beside the barrier. One of the SS men, taking advantage of the distraction, had tackled Carter.
"Oi!" shouted Newkirk, and hurtled forward.
The second goon made a dive towards O'Brien, but he'd left it too late, and a rifle butt across the jaw sent him down and out. As for his pal, he had a big size advantage. If he thought Carter was a pushover, he'd miscalculated, but he was getting the best of it.
Newkirk, on the point of flinging himself into the fray, hesitated. The SS man had wrestled Carter into an awkward but effective stranglehold, and could easily break his neck if he saw a counter-attack coming. From this angle, it wasn't possible to shoot the bugger. Not for Newkirk, nor for O'Brien or Hammond.
But LeBeau was standing to the side, and if he had any qualms, they didn't stand a chance against his overriding instinct to save his mate. And he didn't mess about. It was a clean shot.
An angry cry came from Graf, who started forward, but stopped in his tracks as LeBeau's rifle turned back towards him.
Newkirk ran across to help Carter to his feet. "You all right, Andrew?" he said under his breath.
"Yeah." Carter was flushed and breathless, and probably badly bruised around his neck, but apart from that he seemed unhurt. He'd dropped his rifle during the struggle. Hammond retrieved it, and gave it back to him.
Graf's driver remained on the ground, groaning faintly. It seemed likely that O'Brien had broken his jaw, which was no more than he deserved. As for the other one, he'd all but asked for what he got, trying a thick-headed move like that, let alone probably having been one of the sods responsible for Mills' doing-over. Newkirk had no sympathy for the beggar, but he couldn't help feeling exasperated by the sheer stupidity of it. He shot a furious look at the Gestapo man.
"Well, that was pointless," he said caustically.
"Fool!" snapped Graf, but the glare which accompanied the word was directed at the dead man.
Newkirk wasn't about to contradict him. He nodded to Hammond, and jerked his thumb towards the car, and Hammond went straight to carry out the task which had been interrupted.
"Well?" Graf's voice cut across the silence. "What are you waiting for? If you plan to kill me, you might as well go ahead."
"Sorry to disappoint you, sir. That's not included in our orders, " replied Newkirk, with deadly calm.
But he had to admit to himself, it was tempting.