99
AT MIDNIGHT, BAUER AND von der Haas crossed the bridge over the Larosbach River and walked through the wooded area.
They again used flashlights covered with blue cloths, no more light than minimally necessary to see their way.
They remained constantly on guard for sentries and SS patrols, but the good news was that the patrols would reveal themselves through their flashlights or car lights.
Ten minutes into their slow walk, Bauer saw movement to his left. “Ten o’clock,” he whispered. He raised his gun and turned as a shape rose up.
A sentry emerging from a crouch? Or an animal, a wolf or fox?
A low growl came from the figure. An animal.
Von der Haas raised his weapon as well, but Bauer pushed it down. He picked up a fallen branch and tossed it at the animal. “Go!” he hissed as quietly as he could. The animal turned and sprinted away.
He took a deep breath as his heartbeat decelerated.
“I forgot to mention the wildlife,” said von der Haas. “Deer and foxes, maybe wolves.”
After a careful, slow, half-hour walk, they reached a spot at the edge of the woods and crouched behind a large tree.
Before them was the compound, bordered by the wire security fence.
Though dark, Bauer could see that the compound was still in the middle of construction but already had houses and quarters, roads and bridges and paths—a community carved out of the Bavarian mountainside.
“So there’s your wire fence,” whispered von der Haas. The wire was too tightly coiled to allow for a clean gunshot through it.
“I see it,” said Bauer. “I’d have to line the angle up perfectly. Shoot right through the hole and hit the target with a head shot. No margin for error.”
Von der Haas crawled closer toward the fence.
The measurement would be tricky. They knew Hitler’s height—173 centimeters, or five foot eight, according to Austrian army records—but Bauer was on higher ground than Hitler would be while crossing the concrete bypass.
Von der Haas used a tape measure, then he used wire cutters to open a hole in the fence of four square centimeters.
It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. And they’d pray the SS wouldn’t notice the hole in the fence before tomorrow at 10:00 a.m.
“Okay.” Von der Haas rejoined him in the wooded area. “Let’s lay down the explosives.”
Staying low, they moved along the perimeter of the wire fence, setting down explosives every ten meters or so. They laid over a dozen in all—nothing very powerful, mainly good for a loud pop and little more. Anything more flammable risked alerting the dog patrol.
“The explosives are detonated by sound,” von der Haas told Bauer. “They’ll probably detonate when you discharge your rifle. And if not then, as soon as the SS returns fire—that will be more than enough to set them off.”
“It will sound like gunfire from every direction,” said Bauer.
“And hopefully, that chaos buys you enough time to make it back to the bridge.”
Bauer drew a deep breath. The hole in the fence was where it needed to be. The explosives were set. It was the best they could do.
But it would require luck. Luck that the SS didn’t spot an obscure hole cut in the fence. Luck that the SS sentries weren’t patrolling the wooded areas beyond the fence tomorrow morning. Luck that Adolf Hitler would indeed leave the compound tomorrow for his daily sojourn for tea and cake.
“Now that I’m seeing this up close,” said von der Haas, “it’s too risky. Your chance at success is maybe one in twenty. Your shot must be perfect. And your chance of escape is even worse than I thought. You’d have to be crazy to do this.”
“I’ve been called worse.” Bauer looked up at the trees. “Don’t even try to talk me out of it, Erich. I’m doing this.”