Tanner clutched his helmet. “If the sniper has a brain, he’s far, far away by now.”
A second shot and a third followed. “He doesn’t have a brain,” said Hill. “But the son of a bitch is cunning. He waited for the lead elements to go by his position before shooting. We were a little complacent and now we’re paying for it.”
Two men had been shot and one looked very seriously wounded with a bullet in the abdomen. The second had a broken arm and medics were caring for both. Tanner shook his head. The one with the broken arm would be fine, but the other had his stomach ripped open. Medics were working on the gut wound, but the looks on their faces said that their efforts would be futile.
“I’m going to take a squad and go after him, or them,” Hill said. “We could call in air support but who knows how long that would take. I suggest you stay here, Captain. I don’t think you know all that much about infantry tactics.”
“No argument.”
A few minutes later, Tanner thought he heard gunfire, but the trees muffled sounds so thoroughly that he wasn’t certain. He hoped to hell that Hill knew what he was doing. Waiting for the air force to splatter the forest with napalm wasn’t all that bad an idea, he thought.
* * *
Sergeant Hill’s men spread out and, taking turns, moved towards, and then into, the woods. He took a chance and had a couple of his men race ahead to cut off what he felt were only one or two Germans. They quickly found where the sniper had been hiding and there was evidence that he’d had a companion, somebody else to spot for him. Now how fast were they moving?
For a second he was stunned as a bullet splintered the tree next to his head the same time he heard the gun fire. He dropped and swore. “Anybody see anything?”
“I did,” one of his men yelled and began firing into a group of trees. Others followed suit, chewing up the forest.
Hill was about to order them to stop wasting ammo when he heard a scream. Jesus, he thought, they’d actually hit someone.
He called for covering fire and the advance continued, although more carefully. They might have wounded, or even killed, one Nazi, but there was at least one more out there someplace.
The men laid down more covering fire and Hill was only a few yards from the trees. Suddenly, a bloodied German soldier with a hand grenade charged out, screaming “Heil Hitler!” at the top of his lungs. Hill and the others fired and bullets ripped through him. He limply threw the grenade, which went only a few feet before exploding, pulverizing the German’s body.
There was a crump sound from inside the trees. “I think the second guy shipped himself off to Valhalla,” Hill said. He signaled them forward. Inside the grove, the second German was just as dead as the first. He too had chosen suicide by hand grenade rather than be captured. What the hell kind of enemy is this? he wondered.
He looked at the bodies and felt ill. They were too young. “Private, get the captain.”
* * *
Tanner had been waiting, frustrated and angry. He should have gone with Hill. So what if he wasn’t an infantryman? He was in command wasn’t he? He should have pretended to lead and followed all of Hill’s suggestions. Damn.
Finally and after what seemed an eternity, a soldier emerged and beckoned. Tanner rose and followed the man into the woods. Hill appeared and led him the last few feet. Two bodies lay side by side on the ground. Both German soldiers had been shredded by their own grenades. They had been dragged there so they could be searched.
“I don’t think we need to call for a medic,” Hill said sarcastically.
“A mop might be more appropriate.” The corpses had been thoroughly riddled. Tanner looked closely at the bodies. “Wait, just how old are these guys?”
“Just out of diapers is my guess. I noticed that too. I got curious and pulled their ID. One is fifteen and the other is fourteen. Just like us, the Nazis have run out of manpower if this is what they’re throwing at us. These two Nazis should be in high school, not out here trying to kill us.”
Both young men were on their backs and staring at the sky, although one of them had only one eye remaining. “Congress is going crazy because we’re using eighteen-year-olds in combat. I think our Congress should come out here and see this. I guess eighteen is ancient to the German army.”
“Wait, look at this,” said Hill. Each young man had a strange patch on his shoulder. It was a stylized animal face with flaming red eyes. “All right, Captain, can you tell me what the hell this represents? Is this what I think it is, sir?”
“I sincerely hope I’m wrong, but it sure looks like a nightmare version of a werewolf.”
* * *
The rumble of approaching vehicles awakened the refugees. Lena and the others got only to their hands and knees. Even though it was night, standing up might make one a good target. Crouching made one smaller and it might make running a lot easier.
They looked at each other fearfully. Who was coming? Was it the Russians? She was thankful it was a cloudy night. The darkness might hide them. They could scatter and maybe live, at least for a while.
But if it was the Russians, they were now between them and any kind of safety the refugees might find with the Americans.
They held their breath as the sounds got closer. Now they could identify individual engines running, each with a chorus of others in the background. “It’s an army,” said Sister Columba, “But whose?”
They were a good two hundred yards from the road and now Lena could make out dark shapes as they rumbled closer and louder. A long shadowy column of vehicles was going to drive right past them.
The lead vehicles moved by at about fifteen miles an hour. They didn’t look like German vehicles she’d seen, but maybe these were a different style or maybe the Germans had captured them.
“Does anybody here speak Russian?” asked Columba. “If they are Reds, maybe we can reason with them.”
Lena nearly choked. “One does not reason with the Red Army. They are monsters.”
The column had halted. Men were getting out of their vehicles and stretching. The vehicles kept their engines running, so It looked like the pause was momentary. A number of soldiers appeared to be taking the opportunity to urinate, while a couple moved farther away where they dropped their pants and squatted. Under different circumstances it would have been hilarious.
“Watch out for me,” Lena said.
Using her dark habit to hide her, she crouched and crawled slowly and cautiously to where she could see the vehicles more clearly. She could hear the men talking but could not quite make out the words. It was maddening.
At first the insignia on the nearest truck was unreadable. Then the moon came out and she could see it. The same with the voices as the soldiers talked and laughed, unafraid of anything. Now she could understand them. These were the conquerors. They were not German.
She crawled back to where Columba and the others waited, their eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. Lena grabbed Columba and pulled herself up. She started to cry. “They’re Americans,” she sobbed.
* * *
This time there would be no meeting in a restaurant. By mutual agreement the discussions would take place in the dining room of a farm house outside of Arbon and disturbingly close to the German border. The Swiss family that owned the farm had taken some money and happily departed for a long afternoon’s shopping. A framed portrait of Swiss General Henri Guisan was on the wall. Ernie wondered if the homeowners were sending a message about Swiss strength and the nation’s ability to enforce its neutrality. Guisan was the head of the Swiss army.
The man they met was about sixty and looked fatigued. Even though he wore civilian clothes, it was obvious that this man either was or had been a soldier.
“It’s good to see you again, Allen. I had begun to despair that anything good was going to come of our discussions.”