Considering that they were outnumbered and outgunned, Cole decided that Rupert needed a crash course in using that rifle.
“When was the last time you fired that weapon, Lieutenant?”
“I’ve never fired it, if truth be known,” Rupert admitted.
“Come on over here a minute, and let me show you how it’s done,” Cole said.
He got Rupert positioned at the window, where he had a clear field of fire across the open lawn to the woods. The open space was covered with fresh snow, unmarked except by a few footprints that the German had left when he’d approached the door.
“Aim for that stone pillar yonder,” Cole said, indicating the entrance pillars to the final approach to the château.
“Shouldn’t I shoot at someone? It seems like I’m wasting a bullet.”
“Don’t worry about that. They won’t know you’re not shooting at them. You’ll be making them keep their heads down.”
Cole knelt behind Rupert and made a few adjustments. For starters, he repositioned the stock so that it fit better into the lieutenant’s shoulder. He also showed Rupert how to let the full weight of the weapon rest on the windowsill, which made it easier to aim.
“Better?”
“I’d say so. Now what?”
“Aim for the middle of the pillar, just like you’d aim for the middle of your man. Don’t try anything fancy. Let your breath out, then breathe in again and hold it. Now repeat after me, Lieutenant. Breathe, aim, fire.”
“Breathe, aim, fire,” Rupert whispered.
Cole sensed the rhythm of Rupert’s breathing, then said, “Squeeze the trigger gently. Don’t yank it. You want to kind of surprise yourself when the rifle goes off.”
The rifle fired, breaking the silence of the winter landscape. Instantly the empty brass cartridge went spinning away, and the action fed another shell into the chamber. That was the beauty of a semiautomatic.
In the distance, a chip of stone flew from the pillar.
“I hit it,” Lieutenant Rupert said with satisfaction.
“That’s good,” Cole said. “When it matters, you might hit your target and you might not. He could even get back up after you hit him. In that case, adjust your aim and fire again. Keep pulling that trigger until you run out of bullets or the son of a bitch is down for good.”
Rupert nodded. Maybe it was Cole’s imagination, but the young lieutenant looked less pale than before. He didn’t have the heart to point out that the hard part of shooting at someone was that they were likely to be shooting back. Rupert would find that out soon enough.
He left Rupert keeping watch at the window.
Looking around, he was surprised to see both Madame Jouret and Lena brandishing shotguns. Both guns appeared to be antiques with fancy scrollwork and fine-grained wood stocks, the sort of shotguns that had likely cost a small fortune and were meant to impress, very different from the plain, sturdy Iver Johnson 12-gauge that Cole had grown up with.
However, he had to admit that the antique shotguns had likely been used for their share of hunting. Neither the daughter nor the lady of the house seemed to have any qualms about using them, and they handled the weapons with familiarity. They certainly looked more confident than the lieutenant did. Here in the Ardennes region, it made sense that women had their fair share of experience with hunting and shooting.
Cole nodded toward the hallway. Madame Jouret nodded back, and both she and her daughter positioned themselves there. From their post, they could use the shotguns to cover the front door and any other windows at the front of the house. If any of their attackers got past the door or through the heavy shutters covering the windows, they were going to be peppered by those shotguns. The walls were thick enough, but the windows were the weak points.
For good measure, he and Vaccaro shoved some of the heavier furniture against the windows. Madame Jouret’s glass-fronted china cabinet might not stop the enemy from getting in, but it would sure as hell slow them down — and help keep their bullets out. Despite its delicate contents, the thing weighed as much as a locomotive.
Cole felt better now about their ability to defend the château. They had just doubled their numbers thanks to Rupert’s shooting lesson and the ladies with their shotguns. He and Vaccaro could float as needed. Cole intended to head upstairs to see what damage he could do with his sniper rifle.
They should be OK as long as their attackers didn’t bring up any heavy weapons, at least until nightfall. The fight could get a lot more challenging then.
This was the best they could do. The question was, Would it be enough?
He noticed Bauer watching him. There was no smirk or amused look on his face. Instead, he appeared deadly serious, every inch the experienced combat officer that he was.
The German officer held up his hands, which were still bound.
“Cut me loose,” he said in a tone that rankled Cole, because it sounded very much like an order.
“Not a chance,” Cole replied.
“The men out there are here because of me,” he said quietly. “You must at least allow me a chance to defend myself — unless you prefer to rely on the two ladies and a kinder leutnant?”
Vaccaro had overheard and offered his two cents’ worth. “He’s got a point, hillbilly. We can at least give him Rupert’s revolver.”
Cole thought it over. After a moment’s hesitation, he drew his big bowie knife, stepped closer to Bauer, and cut him free.
The German shook out his hands to restore circulation. The cords had left red, painful-looking indentations on his wrists.
“Don’t make me regret this,” Cole said, the look on his face and the knife in his hand making it clear how things would go if Bauer caused any trouble. Slowly, he sheathed the knife. “Lieutenant Rupert, give Herr Barnstormer your sidearm.”
Bauer took the weapon and expertly flipped the cylinder open to make sure that it was loaded. He also accepted a handful of spare bullets from the lieutenant. It was a six-shot .38-caliber Webley revolver. The revolver would be useful only at close range, but they didn’t have a lot of weapons to go around.
“Thank you,” Bauer said.
“I’ve only got one rule for you,” Cole replied. “You can’t shoot any Americans. You can only shoot Germans. Otherwise, this might be kind of hard to explain later.”
“You mean that I can only shoot Messner and his men?” Bauer offered a cold smile. “It will be my pleasure.”
“What can you tell me about this Messner and the men with him? Do we need to be worried about them?”
“They are competent soldiers,” Bauer said. “I am only guessing this, but it is likely that he has Obergefreiter Dietzel and Gettinger with him. These are men who have some personal loyalty to him. Perhaps they are inspired by him. He shows them some favoritism in return. Gettinger has no special talents other than obedience, but Dietzel is a Jaeger — the equivalent of what you might call a scout-sniper.”
“Yeah, I reckon he’s the son of a bitch who took a shot at me,” Cole said.
“Lucky for us, he missed.”
Cole snorted. He couldn’t tell if Bauer meant that. “One more thing. You stick with me. Where I go, you go.”
As it turned out, they had made their arrangements just in time. From the window, Lieutenant Rupert shouted, “Here they come!”