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“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.”

100

AT DAWN, FROM THE first appearance of the sun, the SS patrol units fanned out over the Nazi compound carved out of the Bavarian Alps. A group of four officers drove in a military jeep around the wooded territory beyond the security fence. All four black-uniformed guards had Luger or Walther sidearms, and two of them carried MP40 submachine guns. Thankfully, the unit did not travel particularly close to the fence, having no reason to do so, leaving intact the sound-sensitive fireworks that Bauer and von der Haas had laid a few hours earlier.

Some of the wooded area was too dense for vehicular travel. On occasion, the guards would leave their vehicle and walk through the denser areas. At one point, the unit parked its jeep right at the edge of the wooded area, precisely at the point where Bauer planned to assassinate Adolf Hitler in thirty minutes.

Bauer observed all of this from his perch high up in a spruce tree that he had climbed before dawn, preferring the cover of trees to the ground. He could see Hitler’s house, the Berghof, with his binoculars. He could see the sentry towers by Hermann Göring’s residence and by the theater hall still under construction.

It was sunny outside. The brightness, he thought, helped obscure the four-square-centimeter hole that von der Haas had cut in the fence.

He checked his wristwatch. It was coming up on ten in the morning. Only a moment later, he heard the RSD dogs, sent along a path that not long thereafter would be walked by the most dangerous man on the planet, quite possibly the most dangerous man of the twentieth century. Then he heard the hum of a vehicle driving along the path. An SS vehicle providing forward cover.

Bauer didn’t have a shot from his perch in the tree, didn’t have the position to shoot while straddling a branch. It was time to climb down.

He couldn’t place the position of the jeep that was patrolling the woods. His ears told him it was not close, but he couldn’t see. This was not ideal. But it was now or never.

Bauer slowly climbed down, dangling from a low branch and then trying to land as quietly as possible, as softly as he could with a sniper rifle slung over his back. He got into a crouch and hewed close to the tree trunk. He got into position, aligning the sight on his rifle with the hole in the wire fence.

He was exposed, no question. He had the shadow of tree cover but nothing more. Anyone looking in this direction with purpose would see him. The best he could do was remain absolutely still.

He heard voices. “Sieg heil!” they shouted in unison. Patrol officers saluting their leader. Hitler was on the path. It would be a matter of minutes now.

Bauer looked over his sight. He could see Hitler walking with his two dogs, German shepherds. He had no shot from here; the fence was too high; a bullet wouldn’t make it through unmolested. But he could see the man. He could hear his voice, too, though he couldn’t make out the words, speaking to his dogs.

Enough. Hitler would be in the target range in only a minute or two, and Bauer would only have one chance to do this, one shot. He raised the rifle again and poised the sight over the hole in the fence.

But then he heard barking—rabid, violent barking. Bauer looked over his sight again. He could see what was happening well enough.

A wolf or fox or coyote—some wild animal—was on Bauer’s side of the fence, pawing at the wire, growling and hissing at Hitler’s dogs, which rushed toward the fence in response. Hitler shouted and waved his arms. One of the SS patrol cars raced forward.