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

intend for this to be one of those exhausting trips that parents and grandparents knew all too well, where Danny kept asking to do things or buy things, and Cole would be forced to say no. After all, his grandson wasn’t eight years old anymore.

He knew that he had to let the boy off the leash sometime to make his own discoveries—and mistakes. Hell, Cole hadn’t been much older when he shipped out for the war. But he had been a different person. Danny seemed a whole lot younger in Cole’s eyes, even a little naive. As for allowing his grandson to drink beer, Cole himself mostly steered clear of alcohol, knowing what it had done to his father. It wasn’t a habit he wanted to encourage in his grandson, but he knew that forbidden fruit always tastes sweeter.

“You know what?” Cole finally said. “You are sixteen years old. I ain’t gonna hold your hand every minute of this trip. You may want to go off on your own and explore, and that’s all I’m gonna say about that.”

Danny nodded, grinning. His grandfather hadn’t come out and given him permission to hoist a tankard, but he was saying that Danny could make some of his own decisions.

“That’s a deal. Just so long as I don’t have to keep you out of trouble,” Danny said.

“I’m an old man. What kind of trouble would I get into?”

“Gran told me not to let you shoot anybody.”

Cole snorted. “Your gran always had what I’d call a dry sense of humor, ever since she stole my clothes from that swimmin’ hole on Gashey’s Creek.”

“Huh? I never heard that story.”

“You ask your gran about that sometime when she’s acting high and mighty.”

Since Danny had taken the window seat, Cole found himself directly across the aisle from a fellow who looked to be about his own age. Like Cole, the man had opted for soft drinks and Cole couldn't help but notice that he had a slight German accent. Finally, he caught Cole’s eye and said, “Hello. Have you been to Germany before?”

Cole nodded. “A long time ago,” he said. “During the war.”

The other man nodded and offered his hand across the aisle, “Hans Neumann,” he said. After Cole had introduced himself in turn, his fellow passenger continued: “I, too, was in the war, but I suspect that I fought for the other side. You see, I was a soldier in the Wehrmacht. But not for long, thank goodness. I was captured and sent as a prisoner to Ohio.”

“A POW, huh?”

Hans smiled. “It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I felt like I had gone to heaven! The people were kind and I was just a boy really, who didn't have much choice about going into the army.”

“Nobody had much choice,” Cole agreed.

Hans nodded. “No, and that is why I was glad to be out of the war. There was plenty to eat in Ohio. There were pretty girls. I ended up staying there for the next forty years, ha! I found a wife and bought a farm and raised a family. I became an American citizen, which was my proudest day. But you see, I still have a few relatives in Germany, so here I am on this plane.”

Cole appreciated that Hans had summed up his life story in a few sentences, like the summary on the back of a book. Cole doubted that he could do the same; his life was a little more complicated.

“Good for you,” was all he said.

Hans smiled. “Good for me, indeed. This may be my last time going back. I have a bad heart, you see. Growing up, we were always told to eat lots of cheese and butter. It’s good for you, we were told! Well, the whole time it was clogging up my arteries.”

Cole snorted. “Yeah, don’t get me started. No salt, no sugar—”

“No fun!”

Cole found himself taking a liking to Hans, the Wehrmacht soldier-turned Ohio farmer. They were now just a couple of old codgers, bitching about the things that all old codgers bitched about. At this point in his life, he liked that just fine.

Cole had felt some uncertainty beforehand about this trip, but now, talking with Hans, he was finally starting to relax. Maybe Norma Jean was right that he was always too worried about what could go wrong.

“You hit that on the head, Hans. It’s no fun getting old.”

“You are from the south?” Hans asked. “I can hear it in your accent.”

“Born and raised. Got me a little place in the mountains and couldn't be happier.”

Hans nodded agreeably. “Look at us, having survived that nightmare, we are here today. We are blessed, my friend.” Hans raised his glass of soda in salute and Cole did the same. “Is that your grandson with you?”

“That's right,” Cole said. “We're taking a tour of Germany.”

“He is a good-looking boy,” Hans said in a tone of grandfatherly approval. “I have three grandsons myself. I am so glad that your grandson is going as a tourist and not as a soldier, as we had to do.”

“Amen to that.”

“Listen, I am going to put my head down and take a nap. All this traveling has made me tired and like I said, my heart is not what it used to be.” Hans took a pen from the pocket of his blazer and jotted a phone number on a cocktail napkin. “This is my telephone number and the address where I am staying in Munich. I still have many friends there and many family. If you and your grandson need anything while you are in Germany, you get in touch. You never know when you will need a friend.”

Cole took the napkin and nodded his thanks. “Much obliged, Hans.”

Left alone now, with Danny wrapped up in gazing out the window at the play of fading light across the pillowy clouds, Cole found himself lost in reflection.

Cole thought about his own arrival in Europe aboard a landing craft at