opted for the aggressive approach. He pulled out his radio and spoke to Richter, who was lingering in the tunnel on the far side of Krueger.
‘Let’s take him,’ Payne ordered.
In unison, both men hustled forward while staring at Krueger over the tips of their rifles. Payne got there first and viciously kicked the G36 out of his hands. It clanked on the rocky path near Richter, who picked it up and slung it over his shoulder.
‘Should I search him?’ Richter asked.
Payne shook his head. He didn’t want Richter to get too close to Krueger. That was simply asking for trouble. ‘Hell, no! Let him keep whatever weapons he has. In fact, I hope he reaches for one. It’ll give me an excuse to pull my trigger.’
Richter backed away, just in case Payne opened fire.
Meanwhile, Payne’s gaze never left Krueger, who was lying on the ground with his hands by his side. Far from his pockets, they weren’t viewed as a threat.
‘Do you speak English?’ Payne asked.
Krueger groaned but didn’t answer.
Payne repeated himself in German. ‘Sprechen sie Englisch?’
Krueger took a deep breath. ‘Ja.’
‘Then answer me in English, you stupid Kraut!’
Until that moment, Payne had never used the word Kraut in his entire life, but he was quite familiar with its origin and hoped it would rile his opponent enough to get him talking. A derogatory term for German soldiers, it became popular during the First World War when British sailors learned their German counterparts ate large quantities of sauerkraut in order to prevent scurvy. This practice was comparable to the Royal Navy’s consumption of limes, which had earned them the nickname Limey, so they felt it was appropriate to belittle the Germans in a similar fashion.
‘Yes,’ Krueger said as he sat up slowly, ‘I speak English.’
Payne watched him closely. ‘If you twitch, you die.’
Krueger used his arms to twist himself onto his knees, then he placed his hands on top of his head. It was the universal position for surrender. ‘I understand.’
‘Wow, I get the feeling you’ve done that before. Is that a part of your training? Germans: surrendering to Americans since 1918.’
Krueger sneered. ‘What do you want from me?’
‘What do I want? No, Adolf, what do you want? You attacked us, in case you forgot. We were minding our own business in the woods when you came along.’
Krueger shook his head. ‘I did no such thing. I am man of peace.’
‘Yeah, a piece of shit.’
‘I am hiker, not fighter. I find gun in trees.’
‘Really? If that’s the case, prove it to me. Show me your hands.’
‘What?’
Payne smiled. ‘I said, show - me - your - hands.’
Krueger lifted his hands above his head. ‘Now what?’
‘Now look at them! See all that blood? It came from my men. Do you understand what I’m saying? Their blood is on your hands.’
Krueger glanced at his hands, confused. Despite a little grime, they were relatively clean. ‘Blood? I don’t see blood on my hands.’
Payne fired a single round through Krueger’s right palm. ‘Look closer.’
The German howled in agony as blood gushed from his hand, a painful and debilitating wound that would prevent him from firing a handgun for a very long time. To some, this act could be interpreted as sadistic. To Payne, it was justifiable. If anything, Krueger had gotten off easy for shooting Collins in the head. Then again, Payne was just warming up.
‘What’s your name?’ Payne demanded.
‘Krueger! Max Krueger!’ he cried.
‘Why did you attack us?’
‘Kaiser. We saw Kaiser.’
‘Who do you work for?’
‘No one!’
Payne repeated his question. ‘Come on, Max. Who do you work for?’
Krueger shook his head and refused to answer.
‘Fine!’ Payne growled. ‘Show me your feet!’
‘What?’ he wailed.
‘You heard me, Max. I’m going to start with your feet and work my way up. And trust me, I’m not bluffing.’
Krueger nodded in belief. ‘Mueller. His name is Hans Mueller.’
‘And who the fuck is—’
Before Payne could say another word, Richter raised his rifle and fired a single shot into the back of Krueger’s head. Angled towards the river, the bullet went through his skull and continued forward until it hit the canyon wall on the other side of the water. Despite standing several feet away, Payne’s face and clothes were spattered with blood.
This turn of events was so shocking to Payne, he raised his rifle and pointed it at Richter. Suddenly, he didn’t know if he could trust the guy. ‘Drop your weapon!’
‘What?’ he said, confused.
‘Drop your fucking weapon!’
Richter dropped his rifle, then lifted his hands above his head. The look on his