Hanging on

battle-hardened. They've had too much good living in Stuttgart. It is time they slept out and endured a bit of hardship."
        "If it should rain-" Kelly began.
        "So much the better for them!" Rotenhausen said. He was, Kelly thought, putting on quite a show for the Standartenführer.
        Trying not to pray, Kelly turned to Beckmann. "And your men, sir? Will they require lodging tonight?"
        Beckmann's broad face was set like a lump of concrete. "You know little about the Schutzstaffeln, Father Picard. I have but fifteen men with me-however, each one is tougher, more dedicated, more battle-hardened than any five other troopers the Third Reich commands." He looked at Rotenhausen and cracked a concrete smile. "Present company excepted, of course." To Kelly, he said, "My men will sleep out by the side of the road with the rest of the convoy. If rain should come, it will not perturb them, Father."
        Major Kelly twisted his hat and hoped that the meager light from the two large kerosene lanterns would not reveal the immense relief that must be evident in his face. Yesterday, he had decided that it would be best to offer the krauts shelter in order not to seem suspiciously secretive about the town's houses and schools. Of course, had either Rotenhausen or Beckmann accepted the offer, the hoax would have fallen down like a village of cards. In this respect, their personal feud and the interservice rivalry between the SS and the Wehrmacht had worked to Kelly's advantage. Neither wanted himself or his men to appear weak and soft in the other's eyes. And thus far, neither bad mentioned the necessity for a building-to-building search. They were so involved in their reciprocal hatreds that they might actually blunder through this whole long night without even suspecting the secreted enemy around them.
        Kelly almost smiled at this thought-and then realized that he was indulging in hope. The deadly disease. If you hoped, you died. It was that simple, but he had forgotten. He began to tremble twice as badly as he had done, scared witless.
        Rotenhausen took a pipe from his shirt pocket, a thin tin of tobacco from his trousers. As he prepared his pipe, he stared at the top of Beckmann's head and discussed the procedure for standing down the convoy until dawn. "The Panzers should be parked on both sides of the road, at least twenty feet between them. Likewise, the trucks and artillery wagons. Only the 88 mm guns and the antiaircraft kliegs should remain on the road where they have a good base for counterattack in the event of a raid. No vehicles will be pulled into St. Ignatius; there is no need to jeopardize nuns and deaf-mutes." He finished tamping the tobacco. "We will post guards at all the intersections. Two-hour watches. Would you care to commit any of your men to this enterprise, Standartenführer?"
        "Certainly, Kamerad," Beckmann said. He propped his jackboots on a small table before the sofa. "We will take responsibility for the bridge."
        "Good enough," Rotenhausen said. He looked past Kelly at the two Wehrmacht junior officers who waited by the hall door. In German, he gave them orders for the bedding down of the convoy.
        Even while Rotenhausen was speaking, Beckmann gave his stone-faced aides their orders for the establishment of an all-night guard patrol on the bridge.
        One Wehrmacht soldier left, and one remained.
        One Schutzstaffeln man left, and one remained.
        Major Kelly, standing in the middle of it all, sweating profusely and methodically destroying his hat, thought that this was like some complex game of chess in which real men were the pieces. Clearly, the rules were elaborate.
        Having lighted his pipe, puffing calmly on it, the warm bowl gripped in one hand so tightly that it betrayed his studied nonchalance, General Rotenhausen said, "Father Picard, with your kind permission, I will have my aide start a fire in the kitchen stove and heat some water for my bath."
        "Certainly! Be my guest, General, sir," Kelly said in mediocre French. "But first-" He sighed. He knew this might precipitate disaster, but he said, "My people will be wanting to get back to their beds. Could you tell me when you will want to search the village?"
        Rotenhausen took his pipe from his mouth. Smoke rose between his lips. "Search the town, Father? But whatever for?"
        Kelly cleared his throat. "I am quite aware that not