It was no longer any secret that the Germans were on the move, headed in the direction of the town. The only question that seemed to remain was how long before the Germans got there.
And yet, their officers had not insisted on digging in or otherwise preparing for an attack.
“There aren’t any Germans in this sector,” their lieutenant had said nonchalantly. “Besides, what would they want with this place? No, the Krauts will be looking for bigger fish to fry.”
But no matter what the officers said, it was hard to ignore the shooting growing ever louder in the mountains beyond the town.
“I don’t like the sounds of that one bit,” muttered Tony Serra, looking off into the hills. It was impossible to see anything happening in the tree-covered hilltops, but the two headquarters company clerks walking down the village street could hear the fighting taking place in the distance. “All that shooting makes me nervous. Did you hear the lieutenant this morning? He tried to say it was nothing but hunters. Since when do hunters use machine guns?”
“Maybe the Krauts won’t come in this direction,” Joey Reed replied. “They might go around us. That’s what the lieutenant says, anyway.”
“Yeah, and Betty Grable might show up for lunch.”
“The whole unit is supposed to be relieved in a couple of days. It’s going to be someone else’s problem.”
“Just who is going to relieve us now? Joey, use your head. With these hills crawling with Krauts, they’re going to need every soldier. And that means us.”
Reluctantly, Joey had to admit that he secretly agreed with Tony. He couldn’t quite relax. No matter what their officers said, there was the distant chatter of gunfire. German forces were definitely in those hills.
It was true that they were supposed to be relieved, but that looked unlikely now. What they were coming to understand was that everyone was a front-line soldier. Currently, there were nearly four hundred troops and several officers scattered throughout the town.
The two clerks were part of the headquarters company. Joey had spent more time with a typewriter than with his carbine, which he hadn’t cleaned since arriving in France. That was all right by him; he wasn’t eager to mix it up with the Germans.
Like many of the units currently serving in Europe, the 179th had its roots as a National Guard unit. Most of the soldiers hailed from Oklahoma, which designated the buffalo as its state symbol. Considering that most of the young men in the unit had never been out of sight of the sweeping plains and red-dirt fields back home before the war began, the snow-covered mountains just didn’t look right.
New Year’s morning had dawned crystal clear and bitterly cold, a crisp start to 1945 and what everyone hoped would be the last year of the war. What they hadn’t counted on was starting the new year with a fight on their hands.
The quiet of the new year had been shattered by a Luftwaffe attack on the railroad bridge just beyond town. Bombs had fallen and wiped out the bridge, but thankfully, the German planes had spared the village.
When it was clear that the Luftwaffe was targeting the bridge, Billy and most of the other soldiers in Wingen had come out to watch the show. Huge columns of smoke and debris spiraled upward with each bomb detonation.
“Happy New Year!” Serra shouted. “This is better than fireworks.”
“Stuff a sock in it, Serra,” the lieutenant said. “Anyhow, I thought the Germans weren’t supposed to have any planes left to speak of. I guess somebody was wrong about that.”
Finally, American planes appeared overhead to chase off the enemy, but by then, the Luftwaffe aircraft were long gone.
If it hadn’t been for the war, it would have been easy to get lost in the picture-postcard beauty of the remote village. There were two churches, one Protestant and one Catholic, both modest and not in any danger of being described as cathedrals.
Along with the usual shops, the town had two hotels, which before the war had catered to hikers and other tourists, but now served the officers stationed in town. While other towns in France had been devastated by the fighting and even reduced to rubble, the local economy was thriving through commerce with the Americans.
All in all, it was pretty soft living for the soldiers stationed here compared to the front-line troops fighting to the north in the Ardennes Forest. Even enlisted men enjoyed comfortable quarters staying in homes throughout the town. Nobody was sleeping in a tent or foxhole.
Until a couple of days ago, the war had been going on to the north, leaving this region out of it.
However, the German’s launch of Operation Nordwind was waking up the sleepy villages and hills. The offensive had failed to the north, but now, the Germans were trying again.
The two soldiers walked up the winding main street, both lost in their thoughts. They were interrupted by the appearance of Sister Anne Marie, carrying a basket of food.
“Happy New Year, Sister,” said Corporal Serra, acknowledging the nun with a nod. He was Catholic himself.
“Happy New Year,” she said, smiling pleasantly.
Both men brightened. “Happy New Year to you!” Joey heard himself singing out, pleasantly surprised that the nun spoke English. Like many of the people in the village so close to the border, she was also fluent in French and German.
Although Sister Anne Marie wore a nun’s tunic, and also a shawl on this cold morning, her pretty face was plain to see. Even the tunic did not manage to completely disguise her shapely figure. Nun or not, there was no doubt that Sister Anne Marie was a looker. More than one young soldier had remarked that it was a damn shame that she’d gone and become a nun. The Lord worked in mysterious ways, that was for sure.
“I hope the new year brings us good things,” she said. “Speaking of which, please help yourselves. I have some baked goods here headed for the priest’s kitchen, but he won’t be the wiser if there’s a bun or two missing.”
The two soldiers didn’t need to be told twice. They both eagerly reached for a bun when the young nun pulled back the cloth covering the basket.
“Thank you, Sister,” Joey said gratefully, nodding his thanks.
As the nun went about her errand, Serra gave her an appreciative look over his shoulder. “Now, that’s a shame right there. A pretty girl like that deserves better.”
“Better than what? She’s a nun.”
“My point exactly,” Serra said, then sighed with delight as he bit into the warm bun. His next words were said around a mouthful of fresh-baked bread. “Why settle for being a nun? I’m telling you, that girl ought to be a saint.”
It snowed during the night, just a light dusting that the men guarding the perimeter of Wingen sur Moder could feel against their exposed cheeks and necks. The chill sent shivers down their spines.
“See anything?” asked Corporal Wojcicki, peering out into the dark woods.
“Darker than the inside of a cow out here,” replied his buddy, Stan Barnes, standing a few feet away.
Wojcicki had heard that one before, but he didn’t comment. He was too worried about the dark woods being filled with Germans. The impenetrable shadows among the trees left a great deal to the imagination. He and the rest of B Company were on a hill overlooking the town, the idea being that the position offered a two-fold benefit. They overlooked the twinkling lights of the village and could get down the hill in a hurry to reinforce the troops there. Also, the position on the hilltop meant that they would likely be the first to encounter any approaching Germans, thus warning the soldiers in the town.