Sniper's Justice (Caje Cole Book 9) David Healey (little bear else holmelund minarik .TXT) 📖

watch the show. Huge columns of smoke and debris spiraled upward with each bomb detonation.

“Happy New Year!” Serra shouted. “This is better than fireworks.”

“Stuff a sock in it, Serra,” the lieutenant said. “Anyhow, I thought the Germans weren’t supposed to have any planes left to speak of. I guess somebody was wrong about that.”

Finally, American planes appeared overhead to chase off the enemy, but by then, the Luftwaffe aircraft were long gone.

If it hadn’t been for the war, it would have been easy to get lost in the picture-postcard beauty of the remote village. There were two churches, one Protestant and one Catholic, both modest and not in any danger of being described as cathedrals.

Along with the usual shops, the town had two hotels, which before the war had catered to hikers and other tourists, but now served the officers stationed in town. While other towns in France had been devastated by the fighting and even reduced to rubble, the local economy was thriving through commerce with the Americans.

All in all, it was pretty soft living for the soldiers stationed here compared to the front-line troops fighting to the north in the Ardennes Forest. Even enlisted men enjoyed comfortable quarters staying in homes throughout the town. Nobody was sleeping in a tent or foxhole.

Until a couple of days ago, the war had been going on to the north, leaving this region out of it.

However, the German’s launch of Operation Nordwind was waking up the sleepy villages and hills. The offensive had failed to the north, but now, the Germans were trying again.

The two soldiers walked up the winding main street, both lost in their thoughts. They were interrupted by the appearance of Sister Anne Marie, carrying a basket of food.

“Happy New Year, Sister,” said Corporal Serra, acknowledging the nun with a nod. He was Catholic himself.

“Happy New Year,” she said, smiling pleasantly.

Both men brightened. “Happy New Year to you!” Joey heard himself singing out, pleasantly surprised that the nun spoke English. Like many of the people in the village so close to the border, she was also fluent in French and German.

Although Sister Anne Marie wore a nun’s tunic, and also a shawl on this cold morning, her pretty face was plain to see. Even the tunic did not manage to completely disguise her shapely figure. Nun or not, there was no doubt that Sister Anne Marie was a looker. More than one young soldier had remarked that it was a damn shame that she’d gone and become a nun. The Lord worked in mysterious ways, that was for sure.

“I hope the new year brings us good things,” she said. “Speaking of which, please help yourselves. I have some baked goods here headed for the priest’s kitchen, but he won’t be the wiser if there’s a bun or two missing.”

The two soldiers didn’t need to be told twice. They both eagerly reached for a bun when the young nun pulled back the cloth covering the basket.

“Thank you, Sister,” Joey said gratefully, nodding his thanks.

As the nun went about her errand, Serra gave her an appreciative look over his shoulder. “Now, that’s a shame right there. A pretty girl like that deserves better.”

“Better than what? She’s a nun.”

“My point exactly,” Serra said, then sighed with delight as he bit into the warm bun. His next words were said around a mouthful of fresh-baked bread. “Why settle for being a nun? I’m telling you, that girl ought to be a saint.”

It snowed during the night, just a light dusting that the men guarding the perimeter of Wingen sur Moder could feel against their exposed cheeks and necks. The chill sent shivers down their spines.

“See anything?” asked Corporal Wojcicki, peering out into the dark woods.

“Darker than the inside of a cow out here,” replied his buddy, Stan Barnes, standing a few feet away.

Wojcicki had heard that one before, but he didn’t comment. He was too worried about the dark woods being filled with Germans. The impenetrable shadows among the trees left a great deal to the imagination. He and the rest of B Company were on a hill overlooking the town, the idea being that the position offered a two-fold benefit. They overlooked the twinkling lights of the village and could get down the hill in a hurry to reinforce the troops there. Also, the position on the hilltop meant that they would likely be the first to encounter any approaching Germans, thus warning the soldiers in the town.

Up here on the hilltop, Wojcicki felt alone and exposed. They did have self-propelled 75 mm guns to provide some heavy hitting if needed—in other words, if the Germans arrived with Panzers.

Wojcicki wasn’t totally unprepared. He had made a white smock for himself out of a bedsheet. He figured that it would provide some camouflage in the snow.

“Shouldn’t we dig in?” Barnes asked.

“Nah, the lieutenant said not to bother because there aren’t any Germans coming around. Besides, you’d damn near need a chisel to get through this frozen ground. Maybe even a blow torch.”

So they stared out at the dark woods, their ears straining, waiting for something to happen. Shivering.

After an hour, the lieutenant came by and ordered Wojcicki and Barnes to scout ahead of the company. “Wojcicki, you ought to blend right in with that smock. Let’s see if these woods are really empty.”

“Yes, sir.”

Corporal Wojcicki wasn’t a big fan of the idea, but orders were orders. As they headed out, Barnes whispered. “Yeah, got to hand it to you for wearing that smock. You got us both sent right into the lion’s den. If you get any more bright ideas, check with me first.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Still, they were glad to move, because it helped them keep warm. Slowly, they worked their way from the clearing where the company was spread out into the deep forest. Wojcicki could barely see his hand in front of his face. He kept walking into trees.

In fact, Wojcicki was so intent on avoiding the trees that