"So I would stay in Austria for the time being, waiting for orders and trying to watch over soldiers who had no enemy to fight," Winters shares. This narration takes us into a lush green field, at the end of which stands a modest cottage surrounded by sheep. Liebgott narrows his eyes. These aren't just sheep. They're Danger Sheep. "Lieb, I fucking hate this," complains Webster. He's pouting in the front seat of the Jeep while Liebgott glares at the cottage. "They fingered him," argues Liebgott. "He was in the fucking room, Web. One of those Polacks at the slave camp says this is the guy." But he can't give specifics. Liebgott is venting, hoping he's found a target for his ire at the atrocities committed against the Jewish people; Webster prefers to be a pacifist and not invite Trouble to run up his dress. Liebgott grouchily hops out of the car and murderously strides toward the house. "Is this a personal thing, Joe?" pants Webster, jogging to catch his friend. "Does Major Winters know?" Liebgott doesn't give a damn. He's convinced that this cottage's owner could be tied to a concentration camp, and therefore, he deserves to be extinguished. "It's a goddamn order," he seethes. In the book, Speirs gave the order for Liebgott, Sisk, and a chap called Moone to interrogate the man; that's not made totally clear here. Webster clings to the innocent-until-proven-guilty mantra. "Were you at Landsberg?" Liebgott hisses quietly. "Think he's a soldier like you and me? An innocent German officer? Where the hell have you been for the past three years?"
Liebgott charges into the cabin and screams in German at the portly resident. Webster and Sisk secure the place while Liebgott menacingly advances upon the man. "Come here, old man," he growls. More German that I don't understand; I think Liebgott is trying to interrogate him about the prison camps, but it's probable that his line of questioning is less than impartial. "Don't fucking lie to me!" he screams. "See what you did to my fucking people!" The man protests, "Nein, nein!" Disgusted, Webster storms out, unable to watch Liebgott fly off the handle and threaten the man with his gun. He lights up and smokes tensely. "He's guilty," Sisk whispers over Webster's shoulder. "Liebgott says so." Webster grimaces. A gunshot cracks through the air, and the cabin owner staggers out the front door, grabbing a bleeding neck wound and running limply toward the hills. Liebgott bursts out behind him and tries to kill him, but he's out of bullets. "Shoot him!" he screams at Webster, who flatly refuses. Just as it seems the hurt German might escape, a bullet tears through his chest, felling him with an inglorious thud. Webster whirls to see Sisk lowering his smoking weapon.