It would be easy enough just to pull the trigger.
But first Cole wanted the man to know that he was about to die.
Cole shouted, “Hey!”
The German had been crab-walking across the top of the ravine, trying to get in position while also keeping an eye out for his target. He froze when he heard Cole’s shout. It was an old trick that hunters used to get a clear shot when an animal wouldn’t stop moving, but the German didn’t freeze for long.
In fact, Cole’s ploy almost cost him the fight.
The Jaeger swung his rifle up and fired, faster than Cole expected.
Something supersonic and angry hissed nearby. Cole didn’t know where the bullet had gone, and he didn’t much care as long as it hadn’t hit him.
The Jaeger had fired too quickly to aim accurately. The man worked the bolt of his own rifle desperately.
With his crosshairs firmly on the German’s chest, Cole fired.
The German sniper sank to his knees, then fell over backward into the snow.
Some distance away, Vaccaro and the others had heard the shots, and they were left wondering what was going on. The outcome was anybody’s guess.
It was hard to think of anyone getting the upper hand on Cole, but in Vaccaro’s experience, war was always a gamble. For now they were still on their own.
Lieutenant Rupert was still struggling through the snow, supported by Lena and Vaccaro. Vaccaro had been left with no choice but to sling his rifle to leave his hands free for that effort. He couldn’t help but think that a crutch would have been more useful than a rifle. They were on the run now, pure and simple.
“Those shots, what do they mean?” Lena asked.
It was a question Rupert would’ve asked as well if he’d had the breath to do so. The British officer looked weak and gray with pain, his face the color of plumbing putty.
“I don’t know for sure,” Vaccaro said. “I don’t hear any more shooting, so that means it’s over for them one way or another. It’s not over for us, though. We need to get back down to that road, where we can get some help for the lieutenant. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
Lena nodded and said, “I know the way.”
EPILOGUE
Slowed by Rupert’s wound and the rugged terrain, it took them longer than Vaccaro expected to reach the road again, even with Lena’s knowledge of the trails through the forest.
They still didn’t know the outcome of the showdown between Cole, Bauer, and the German pursuers. Vaccaro’s money was on Cole, of course, but he knew well enough that there were no sure bets in this war.
“Leave me here,” Rupert said. He looked even more gray-faced from pain, and he shivered in the cold. “You two will have a better chance of getting out of these woods on your own.”
“No way in hell, Lieutenant,” Vaccaro replied, grunting with the effort of supporting Rupert across a section of trail covered by gnarled, icy tree roots. Lena continued to support him on the other side, nursing her own twisted ankle. Every step was an effort.
“I could order you to leave me here,” Rupert said.
“That won’t work, Lieutenant,” Vaccaro said. “Besides, your girlfriend here isn’t going to follow orders either.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Rupert said. “Help me get back to the road, and then we’ll see what’s what.”
There was no more discussion after that. Instead, they concentrated their energies on traveling the paths made by the deer and wild pigs that Lena had set them upon.
When they finally reached the road, they were met with a surprise. They had not gone more than a quarter of a mile when they heard a shout behind them. Vaccaro looked back and saw two figures gaining on them. He would have recognized the loping gait of the leaner man anywhere.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, then smiled.
Cole trotted toward them, with Bauer on his heels. He explained that they had reached the road sooner by cutting directly downhill through the forest. It wasn’t a route that the other three could have managed.
“I reckoned we’d run into your sorry ass sooner or later once we got back to the road,” Cole said.
“How did it work out with those Krauts?”
“Let’s just say they won’t be bothering us again,” Cole replied.
“Glad to hear it,” Vaccaro said. “They were starting to get annoying.”
“You and the girl take point,” Cole said. “Let me and Bauer lug the lieutenant for a while.”
“You really must leave me,” Rupert insisted.
“Shut up, Lieutenant,” Cole said, not unkindly. “Let’s go.”
They reached the outskirts of Neufchâteau not long after dark, having navigated the last couple of miles groping their way along the road. Cole had been worried about running into more Germans, but it turned out that US sentries posed the biggest danger. They had materialized out of the gloom, rifles leveled.
“What’s the password?” the sentry asked.
“Do I look like I know the damn password?” Cole snapped back, exasperated. “We just came from Bastogne to deliver this prisoner.”
“Holy hell, all the way from Bastogne?”
The sentries lowered their rifles. Although they had been warned against German infiltrators, the battered group of misfits on the road — an exhausted and half-frozen GI, a Belgian girl, a wounded British officer, a German POW, and a bad-tempered sniper — did not seem to pose much threat.
Without further delay, they were pointed toward headquarters. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Rupert and Lena were guided toward the field hospital.
“How about if you deliver Herr Barnstormer? I think you can handle it from here,” Vaccaro said to Cole. “I’m gonna see if I can find some hot grub and coffee.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Cole said.
The army had taken over an entire crossroads village, with soldiers and officers hurrying from one small house to another. Only a few lights burned due to the threat, however remote, of a Luftwaffe attack. Nonetheless, a few desperately cold GIs had started small fires fed with scrap wood or broken-up furniture to keep warm. The fires were small enough that they could be kicked out or smothered with snow at the first sound of enemy aircraft.
There was enough light thrown by the sputtering flames to see the gray slush churned up under countless tire treads and tank tracks. The firelit faces they passed looked grim and determined. When they noticed Bauer’s enemy uniform, some of the faces wore looks of curiosity while others scowled as if ready to shoot him. News of the massacre at Malmedy and the smaller murderous incident perpetrated by Hauptmann Messner outside Bastogne had spread, meaning that precious few German prisoners would be taken alive in the days ahead.
Word had also arrived that the fight for Bastogne was finally being won. Cole and Vaccaro would soon be returning to see for themselves how the fight was going. The worst of the German advance seemed to have been stopped, but there was still plenty of fight left in the Krauts.
An intelligence officer found them and told them to wait outside as he ducked back inside the house. He seemed excited by Bauer’s arrival but not quite sure what to do with him. It seemed to be understood that Cole would continue to keep his prisoner under guard. Wisely, Bauer had already handed back his weapon.
The two men stood surrounded by the dirty snow, waiting for the officer to return. They faced each other, stamping their feet to stay warm. Their breath made clouds that hung in the frosty air, but no words passed between them. No one else was around, and nobody seemed to be taking much interest in them.
Soon the officer would come back out and Bauer would be thrown into the meat grinder of military justice. But for now it was just two soldiers who had survived an ordeal together.