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hundred and fifty-two to be exact. Well, two hundred and fifty-one. I believe one died this morning. If I were you, Colonel, I would avoid using any heavy weapons against this village, or there may be even fewer prisoners.”

The colonel bristled. “Is that a threat?”

“No, only a commentary on your poor aim. If a stray shell hits the church, you are the one responsible.”

“You could let them go.”

“Come now, Colonel,” the German remarked, as if the American officer had just said something mildly amusing. “If you were in my shoes, would you let your prisoners go?”

“It was worth a try, I suppose.”

The German turned to the nun, who had remained quiet, watching the exchange between the two men. “This is Sister Anne Marie. She has expressed special concern for the prisoners and has been caring for them. She can tell you what supplies are needed for them.”

“Thank you, Sister,” the colonel said. “How are the prisoners doing?”

Clearing her throat, the young nun spoke up. “They are doing as well as can be expected,” she said. “However, some of them are wounded and need medical attention. They are hungry. I asked Colonel Lang for supplies, but he said that he had none to spare.”

The German shrugged. “That is the truth. Anyhow, I have allowed the nun to help your men as best she can.”

“Listen, what I want to do is send supplies to those prisoners. I’ve got blankets and rations ready. Corporal Gregory here is a medic who volunteered to go back with you and see to their medical needs.”

The German acknowledged the medic with a nod. “Corporal Gregory, you are a brave man. Come back with us, then. No harm will come to you. Is that all, Colonel?”

“That is all. Thank you.”

The two officers saluted. No mention of surrender had been made by either side.

The German sniper edged closer and to Cole’s surprise whispered in heavily accented English, “I will see you later, Hillbilly.”

Then the two groups went their separate ways, boots crunching on the snow-packed road. The medic went with the Germans, hauling a sled that was loaded with supplies. Cole noticed that the nun was the only one who wasn’t wearing heavy winter gear or footwear. Cole thought she must be freezing, but she had not complained.

Out of earshot of the enemy soldiers, Colonel Allen remarked, “I think that went well. Best we could expect, under the circumstances. I just hope some of those supplies make it to our boys and that I didn’t just hand over all that food to the Krauts.”

As the German entourage returned to the village, Colonel Lang strode purposefully, forcing the others to keep up. Hauer practically trotted along beside him.

“Hauer, I thought you and that American sniper were going to shoot one another back there. Did you see the look he gave you?”

“He is nothing to worry about.”

“You don’t think so? Ha! If the Americans had another two hundred like him instead of those clerks in the church, we would not be the ones holding this village. The war would have been over already.”

“Maybe I will have the chance to finish him off tomorrow when they attack us.”

“I certainly hope so. Meanwhile, take half of the supplies they gave us to our own wounded. The nun and that medic can have the rest for the prisoners.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know what else, Hauer? We just saw why the Americans are going to win the war.”

Hauer was visibly taken aback. “Why is that, sir?”

“We are less than a hundred miles from Germany, and yet we have no supplies. The Americans are thousands of miles from their homeland, and yet they have supplies to spare.”

“If you say so, sir. Just so long as we have enough bullets, that is enough.”

The colonel shook his head. “Bullets don’t always win wars, Hauer. You also need blankets and full bellies.”

Chapter Fifteen

The attack was set to begin in the coldest hours before dawn. The sky had cleared, leaving stars strewn across the void. In the distance, a fox barked, a sign that nature was oblivious to the soldiers at the edge of the forest.

“Cold enough for you?” Vaccaro muttered too loudly, his voice carrying in the winter air.

“Shut up, Vaccaro,” Lieutenant Mulholland whispered harshly. He was as nervous as anyone. It was Mulholland who would be leading them right into those German machine guns when they opened up. The others just had to follow. “You want to let the Krauts know we’re coming? Then keep it up.”

Chastised, Vaccaro fell into a sullen silence. In the dark, Cole just shook his head. Vaccaro always talked too much when he got nervous.

They stood in a ring of men, breath steaming like smoke, stamping their feet for some warmth, nervously checking and re-checking weapons. One or two men fumbled with their heavy clothing to relieve themselves yet again, not even bothering to take more than a couple of steps away. The last thing anybody wanted was to have to go during a fight. Though craving nicotine, the men weren’t allowed to light a cigarette, for fear that the sudden flare of a match would warn the enemy.

Given their concerns about being seen by the enemy, the starlight was a blessing and a curse. Reflected by the blanket of snow, the starlight provided the men preparing to attack with a little much-needed light. On the other hand, the light might reveal their movements to the Germans. Down the frozen road, across the valley, they could see the sleepy village, soon to be the target of their attack.

Like the others, Cole and Vaccaro had hardly slept, having been roused from their freezing foxholes as soon as they fell asleep, or so it seemed.

The captain came along, hurrying from squad to squad. “I need a couple of volunteers,” he said.

“I’m guessing it’s not to run down to Paris and bring back a case of champagne,” Vaccaro muttered.

“Lucky you, Vaccaro,” the lieutenant said. “You just volunteered.”

Vaccaro groaned. “For what?”

“We need to cut the

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