Yet you were not completely alone. Since dawn there had been a chopper up there, hovering somewhere above you. It did not seem to matter at first - there were always choppers in the sky and you usually ignored them. But this one wasn’t going anywhere—it was, literally, hanging around. Most of the time you could not see it, but still you could hear it, chattering away. It was one of those bubble-nosed Sioux helicopters, and soon you discerned USAF markings.
“Fuckin’ Yanks are spying on us,” Greyman said.

For some odd reason, when Fritz Lang came to make a movie of Geoffrey Household’s Rogue Male, he decided to give it the decidedly dumb title Man Hunt.  Either way, it’s a rather curious yarn with a quite stunning central idea. Our hero is a famous British big game hunter who, just before WWII, is on holiday in Germany and decides to stalk Hitler. He gets the strutting monster in his sights and even puts one up the spout, but is sprung by guards before anything further happens. There follows his interrogation by Nazi George Sanders in which the ridiculous business of a sporting stalk is explained. You get the beast in your sights but don’t kill it, but it just isn’t the same without live ammo. Whether the Nazis swallow this nonsense or not becomes a moot point, for our hero (Walter Pidgeon) escapes (under ridiculously impossible circumstances) and eventually gets out of Germany. Sanders and his gang follow to England and Pidgeon, after being helped by a doomed whore (because all whores were doomed in the movies in those days) goes to ground in a cave in Dorset. Trapped in there by Sanders he finally turns the tables.
    Now, just what this load of old cobblers was really all about was anyone’s guess, but the idea of stalking Hitler had such appeal that the film and book were a great success. But how much better would it have been had he pulled the trigger. Because he didn’t, you just can’t take neither him nor the book, nor the movie seriously.