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

Cole didn’t have an answer for that. Like the others, he knew that they weren’t even supposed to be fighting any battles. After a hard fight across France, his squad had been scheduled for some well-deserved R&R over the Christmas holiday.

However, Uncle Adolf had made other plans for the holidays. The Germans had launched a surprise attack through the Ardennes Forest, forcing exhausted troops who had been looking forward to some rest back into the fight—Cole and Vaccaro among them.

The attack had been massive, with thousands of infantry and hundreds of Panzers. Most incredible of all, the Germans had staged their forces in complete secrecy, catching the Allies totally unawares. Nobody had expected troops to attack across that rugged terrain, lending to the element of surprise.

As a result, German forces had pushed the Allies back across 50 miles of hard-won ground, which was a bitter pill to swallow. Since then, the attack had faltered and the Germans had mostly been contained in what had come to be known as the Battle of the Bulge.

Once again, Cole and his fellow soldiers had hoped for some respite. During the battle, he had managed to defeat an enemy sniper known as Das Gespenst once and for all.

Cole had expected to have some time to savor his victory against Das Gespenst and catch up on his sleep. But then on New Year’s Day, the Germans had gone and shown that they were by no means finished. To start off 1945, Hitler had masterminded Operation Nordwind through the Vosges Mountains to the south of the initial attack. Having rallied the forces pushed back initially by Allied forces, the second half of the Battle of the Bulge had begun. Steeped in myths and legends that spanned centuries, the Vosges region was dotted with small villages, valleys, and mountain peaks popular with hunters. This time of year, it was also wintry and frozen.

Cole had heard it said before that war was hell and life wasn’t fair, and he agreed. He also thought that war in Europe was cold. Somewhere in the Pacific, his cousin Deacon Cole was fighting the Japanese. That sounded like a tropical vacation compared to this.

Trying to ignore the fact that he was shivering, Cole listened to the sound of the tank grow louder. He had taken off his gloves before getting set up with the rifle, and his fingertip felt numb on the trigger. Since that morning he had also noticed a scratchy throat coming on, and his bones felt achy. He tried to ignore that, too—the last thing he needed was to get sick out here. As if the cold and the fighting weren’t bad enough, adding to the men’s misery was the fact that the flu had been going around.

Right now, he had more immediate concerns than the flu. If there was one thing that any infantryman feared, it was the German Panzers. The tanks were not invincible—the GIs had certainly proved that by now—but against a Panzer, their individual rifles might as well be pea shooters. Their squad didn’t have one of the new recoilless rifles or even a bazooka. After all, their orders were to slow down the Krauts while the rest of the unit got the road cleared.

Among the trees below, a snowy branch suddenly moved, despite the fact that there wasn’t any wind. Then another branch slightly higher than the first one quivered. Clumps of snow fell. Beyond this localized disturbance, the rest of the forest remained still.

It was a curious phenomenon that could have been chalked up to some forest creature, but Cole knew better. He guessed correctly that it meant a German was climbing the tree, trying to get a glimpse of the road ahead.

For their ambush, the squad had picked a spot where they had a commanding view of a bend in the road. The Krauts weren’t foolish enough to come around that bend right into any waiting guns. Always cautious, they had sent a scout ahead.

“Hey, twelve o’clock,” Vaccaro whispered, suddenly deadly serious. “See that tree moving?”

Cole didn’t respond, but pressed his eye tighter against the rim of the telescopic sight. The icy metal felt as if it was cutting into flesh, but he ignored it, willing his eye to see every detail of the forest below. Another branch quivered, then stopped. High in the tree, Cole caught a glint of something. Binoculars? Rifle scope? The German scout was looking right at them. They just had to hope that they had hidden themselves well enough to fool the scout.

Cole held his fire, although he could easily have picked off the German. He wanted the Germans to think that the road ahead was clear and that there wasn’t any danger.

Seemingly satisfied that this was the case, the tree branches moved again, this time in the opposite order as the scout descended. Cole had to hand it to the Kraut. Other than the stirring of the branches, which would have been hard to notice if you weren’t looking for it, the scout had moved silently and stealthily.

Meanwhile, the Germans came closer. They could hear them, but not see them. The clanking of the panzer treads on the hard-packed ice of the road became distinct. They heard a few commands shouted over the relentless engines—a few Kübelwagen vehicles along with the Panzer. Even if the Allied planes had been flying, the Germans would have had good cover under the canopy of the evergreen forest.

“Here they come,” Mulholland muttered. “Steady … pick your targets.”

There was no need for him to say it. After months of combat, these men knew the drill. All of them aimed their weapons, held their breath, intent on the targets soon to appear around the bend.

They didn’t have to wait long. First to appear were a handful of soldiers wearing white winter camouflage smocks. In the old days, these would have been called skirmishers—sent out ahead of the main force to probe the presence of the enemy.

Still, the men