Dietzel’s finger practically itched on the trigger as he held the rifle at the ready. He still wasn’t happy that the American sniper had managed to pin him down during the fight at the château. It had only been a bit of luck that had enabled Dietzel to escape.
He could sense skill in another, and the man had been a fine shot, which surprised him. In Dietzel’s experience, the Americans all saw themselves as frontier marksmen. He also knew from experience that this couldn’t be farther from the truth. Most American soldiers he encountered were only mediocre with a rifle, at best.
However, this American with the Confederate flag on his helmet certainly seemed to be an exception. Dietzel kept his eyes peeled as they moved through the woods, not wanting to find himself in the American sniper’s sights.
When Dietzel finally caught up to him, he would prove with finality which man was the better shot.
As Cole’s group moved through the forest, it was hard not to feel another enemy catching up with them — the cold and exhaustion. They had been moving most of the night, and now it was daylight. Tired and cold or not, they walked on because there was little choice but to keep going.
Although the gray morning was not exactly encouraging, Cole thought it was better than being trapped inside the old château. While the place made a good fortress, it was not where he wanted to make his last stand. He always preferred to be free and out in the open.
The Ardennes Forest was not all that different from the mountains he had grown up in back home. In fact, he wouldn’t mind coming back someday to do some hunting here when there wasn’t a risk of being shot at by the Krauts.
Then again, he reminded himself not to think too far ahead. They had to survive the next hour, let alone the rest of the day.
Get your head right, he warned himself.
He shook off his exhaustion and forced himself to be completely alert.
Even in the midst of winter, the rolling hills and hidden fields had a kind of rugged beauty that appealed to something deep within him. Maybe it was that rugged spirit or the feeling of individualism that dwelled at his core.
After another half hour went by, Cole was almost surprised when they reached a road through the forest. Lena offered a satisfied smile and nodded. “This was where I was bringing you,” she explained. “This road will take you to your headquarters. Now you must follow it.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?” Vaccaro asked.
The girl shook her head. “No. I must return to my mother and make sure she is all right.”
Cole and Vaccaro looked at one another. This sounded like a terrible idea to Cole, considering that somewhere behind them were murderous German soldiers and angry American ones.
“You had better stick with us,” he said.
The girl shook her head stubbornly, her mind apparently made up.
Lieutenant Rupert gently took hold of Lena’s arm. “You can’t go back,” he said. “Your mother will be fine. You heard her say that she knew where to hide herself, where the Germans would never look for her. She wouldn’t want you to place yourself in danger.”
Lena seemed to waver but then took a step back from Rupert. “She is my mother,” she offered, as if that were the only explanation needed.
To everyone’s surprise, the German spoke up next. “Excuse me, Fräulein,” he began, then continued once he had her attention. “Please listen to your friends here. It would not be wise to go back alone through these woods. From what I saw of your mother, she is quite the resilient woman. No, you had better come along with us. I know that Lieutenant Rupert, in particular, will not be disappointed by your company.”
Finally, the girl relented. “All right,” she said. “This way.” Lena started down the road.
Cole glanced at the German, who once again seemed lost in his own thoughts. He still wore the Webley revolver tucked into his belt. Cole didn’t ask for it back. In fact, he had hardly given a second thought to the notion that Bauer might run for it. During the fight at the château, Bauer had more than held his own, displaying just the sort of courage one might expect from a German officer. Having come this far, he didn’t seem to be about to make his escape. Then again, maybe he was just waiting for the right opportunity.
Cole had mixed emotions about Bauer. Not long ago, he had been ready to shoot him on sight. But somehow Bauer had redeemed himself. His words to the girl had shown that Bauer did have a heart, even if it was branded with an Iron Cross.
They continued down the road, moving faster without logs to step over and low-hanging branches to duck under. Cole kept his eyes roving in every direction, especially in front and behind them. There was no telling who else might be on this road.
In the forest, they had managed to leave the war behind, surrounded only by trees, snow, and the occasional sound of an animal or bird. But here on the road, the signs of war were unmistakable. They came across the frozen body of a German soldier dusted with snow. It looked as if he had been wounded elsewhere and reached this lonely spot, where he’d either given up the ghost or his companions had left him for dead.
Cole shook his head, looking at the youthful face of the soldier. His smooth, beardless cheeks confirmed that the dead German couldn’t have been much more than a teenager. Someone had taken his boots, leaving his white feet exposed to the elements. For some reason it seemed worse than leaving him naked.
Cole knew that scenes like this had been repeated dozens, if not hundreds, of times that very day across the battlefield. It was much easier to love a dead enemy than a live one, he thought. He reminded himself that more than a few of the dead they had passed were Americans.
They saw multiple tracks where men and vehicles had passed this way. Some of the boot prints bore the hobnails of German shoes, while others had the rubber soles of American GIs. They passed the wreckage of a panzer, scorch marks showing where it had been struck by a shell. A single dead crewman hung half-in and half-out of the hatch. It was a gruesome tableau of death, considering that the soldier’s face was scorched and his short blond hair was singed. Lena stifled a gasp at the sight. Cole had to admit that none of it was easy to look at.
They continued walking, passing the wreckage of a smashed jeep, although thankfully there weren’t any bodies around it. Then they came to the wreckage of a Kübelwagen that had gone into the ditch, probably because the driver and passenger were riddled with bullets.
“Look at that, Herr Barnstormer,” Vaccaro said, pointing to the body of a German officer. “He might be one of your friends. Maybe you knew him.”
Bauer shook his head. “No, I’m afraid that I do not know him.”
“Maybe there’s something valuable here,” Rupert said. Although Cole had been ready to walk on, Rupert approached the vehicle and, to their astonishment, after a brief search he pulled out a black leather attaché case.
“Well, what have we here, gents?” Rupert said. His fingers were obviously cold because it took him a few moments to jiggle the latch. Once he got it open, he pulled out several papers and maps. None of it meant anything to Cole, but beside him, Bauer also leaned in for a look, and Cole could feel him stiffen.
Must be something, Cole thought. He glanced at Bauer, who stared at the documents intently.
Apparently Rupert knew a little German, but Lena knew more. The two put their heads together and pored over the documents. Bauer remained circumspect and tight-lipped.
When Rupert finally looked up, his eyes glowed with excitement. “You won’t believe this,” he said, “but this is some kind of battle plan. I think these marks on the map here are showing supply depots, and these other marks are showing bridges across some of the mountain streams. So clearly this is the route that the Germans plan to take.”