Other eyes had watched, too, and other ears had listened. They’d known and liked the fact that their sergeant was different, peculiar, but this healing business was new to them. Macurdy stood up. “Time to move,” he said. “On your feet.”
They got up, Von Lutzow rising without help, and Macurdy led off, westward along the broad crest.
Over the next three hours, Macurdy pretty much observed the standard breaks-ten minutes on the hour. On that basis, troopers with full field gear could push fifty miles in twelve hours, on a road. But these guys had been on patrol all afternoon before coming out on this mission. And the German trucks had returned up the ravine and up the hill; the danger seemed over. At least until daylight, when Messerschmitts might come hunting them. Besides, the moon had climbed higher, shortening the shadows. So Macurdy had set no watch on this break. Men dozed, and his own lids too slipped shut. The ground was hard and stony, and like the night, cold. At worst he wouldn’t sleep longer than a few minutes.
The same sound wakened them all, a quiet voice perhaps 120,150 feet away, speaking German, ordering, “Take a break. Pass it on. ” Other voices repeated it at intervals in both directions.
None of the six Americans moved. They occupied an area not twenty feet across. “Come to me,” Macurdy murmured softly. “On our bellies. Now.” They did, wondering, until all of them would have fitted under an eight-foot-square tarp. But it wasn’t a tarp Macurdy planned to cover them with. This time his voice was scarcely more than a whisper. “Take out your .45s, but no one move or shoot unless I say so, or I’ll see your ass on a fence post. Just lay still. They won’t see us as long as you keep quiet.” He chuckled softly, deliberately. “Trust me; me and my Aunt Varia. If you pray, do it under your breath. God’ll hear you.”
Then he spread his cloaking spell to cover them, using his hands because he’d never spread it over an area before. How long had he dozed? he wondered. Surely not more than ten minutes. And what were Germans doing up there? Looking for them, obviously; but why there?
It seemed to him he knew: The feldgrau, the Germans, had found the chutes; obviously American paratroopers had taken the spies. And where would they have gone with them? Unless they were hiding near the plane, they’d have gone in a westerly direction, toward the American outposts, probably following the road. So the German commander had sent three truckloads of men after them, commanded by a junior officer.
But after a few miles, having found no one, they’d look at other options. The Americans might have left the road and followed the crest, which after the road gave the best hiking. So the trucks had returned empty, and the feldgrau were working their way back on foot. It was a low percentage sort of action, done so they could say they’d covered all the prospects. They didn’t really expect to find anyone.
Apparently the German breaks were ten minutes long, too; that’s how long it was before a voice said in German, “On your feet,” then after a moment, “move out. And stay alert!”
Macurdy lay on his side, the heavy Colt in his fist, thumb on the half-cocked hammer. His M1 lay on the ground beside him. If it came down to it, he’d empty the Colt at whatever targets offered themselves, then pick up the rifle. The Germans approached, more than half a dozen he could see. By their helmets and coveralls, they were Fallschirmjager–German paratroops. With submachine guns.
One of the Germans was coming directly toward them, scanning from side to side. Unless he changed course, he’d walk right into them. Macurdy stared as the man approached, to 20 feet, 10, 5. As he passed, the German’s toe struck Macurdy’s booted foot, and he stumbled. “Verdammter Felsen!”he muttered, cursing the outcrop he imagined had tripped him, and continued walking, peering about.
You could have cut the tension with a knife; Macurdy wondered the German hadn’t sensed it. No one spoke or got up until, supported by an elbow, Macurdy could no longer see the Germans. “All right,” he murmured, “sit up if you want, but stay quiet.”