When he was halfway there a harsh voice grunted a challenge, “Halt! Wer da?”

  The guy had stepped out in front of him, and he had a pistol pointed at his chest. Ray hadn’t a clue how to respond. The moment he opened his mouth they’d know he was an enemy soldier. The darkness wouldn’t save him. If he’d had a knife he could’ve used it to kill him without making a sound, but he didn’t have a knife. He was screwed almost before he started.

  Chapter Four

  The soldier holding the pistol made a stupid mistake. He came too close and jabbed him in the chest with the muzzle. It was all the opening he needed. He grabbed the barrel of the gun with his right hand and twisted, bunched his fist and slammed in a hard left hook, and followed up with a haymaker. A crunching left hook on the chin almost took the guy’s head off.

  He fell like a sack of potatoes. Cassidy pulled the Walther P38 from his unresisting hand, jumped on top of him, and hit him again. This time with the metal part of the automatic in a frenzied effort to finish him. Yet was still conscious, and he ripped off his steel helmet and slammed the gun against the side of his head, using it like a hammer. Bone broke with an audible crack, and he went limp. Unconscious, breathing heavily, and he dragged him behind a stack of wooden crates. Although his breathing was labored, he doubted he’d recover from a cracked and broken skull. This was one soldier who wouldn’t be singing any Nazi marching songs. Not in this life.

  He had a weapon, a pistol, but of more use was the helmet. He put it on his head, giving him the silhouette of a German soldier, and walked on to the sniper’s bunker. When he reached it a soldier was inside, dozing, lying on a waterproof tarpaulin to keep him off the wet snow. He crept inside, and he had to find a way to take him out without making any noise. He found a way, the bayonet in a scabbard on his belt. He removed it, placed the point under the chin, and pushed up hard.

  The man’s eyes opened wide and for a fraction of a second, he stared up at Cassidy, his hands grabbing the hilt, but the blade was already deep. The hands fell away as the blade went further, up, into the brain, and he expelled a final, dying breath. He pushed the body to one side and picked up the rifle. Another Mauser KAR98, but this one was different. The owner had looked after it lovingly, and the metalwork displayed a light sheen of oil. The woodwork was unmarked, with a precision Zeiss telescopic sight mounted over the barrel. A half-dozen magazines lay on a wooden crate, ready to use, and he now possessed the tools of a professional sniper. He couldn’t claim his shooting was in the varsity league, but at least with a rifle, he’d look the part. And if they spotted him getting away, he’d take a few with him.

  He walked toward the perimeter, and he was weaker than he’d realized. The spurts of action had drained the last reserves of his energy, and several times he almost fell. His wounded side hurt like hell. While he’d been tied to the tree, the numbing cold had anesthetized the pain. Now he was on the move it came back in waves. He walked in a sea of agony, putting one boot in front of the other. Every footstep taking him one pace toward the perimeter, where he could slip out into the forest. He made it to the edge of the camp, reached the trees, and fell again as his boot slid on the icy surface and his head banged against the trunk of a tree. He was still wearing the German helmet, which saved him from a nasty wound, but his head still rang with the impact, and waves of dizziness swept over him. He passed out for a few seconds, and when his head cleared he climbed to his feet, determined to keep moving.

  Except for the three rifles pointed at him that said otherwise. He waited for the muzzles to spit bullets, waited to die, but it didn’t happen. He noticed something strange, one of the rifles was a machine gun. A Browning BAR.

  “Harry?”

  “Ray? Is that you? We thought you were a Jerry.”

  He looked up at three familiar faces, Logan, Steiner, and Harry Byrd. “I must be seeing things. I thought I was dead.”

  “Not yet. Say, you’re covered in blood.” Harry bent to inspect his wound. “That’s pretty bad, buddy. We’ll get you back to camp and find a medic pronto.”

  “I don’t want a medic.” He held up the sniper rifle. “I want a chance to use this. Where’s the platoon located?”

  Logan jerked a thumb. “Back there, around three miles. Why the helmet? Have you deserted to the Germans?”

  “Screw the lousy Germans. Sarge, what’re you doing here?”

  “We planned to get inside the camp and get you out. It looks like you didn’t need our help. They’re hitting that place with an artillery strike an hour before dawn. It’s due to commence at 06.00.”

  Through his numbed brain, Cassidy computed the numbers and shook his head. “They’ll be too late. The Jerries are starting an all-out attack at 05.00. Our shells will fall on empty ground, and meanwhile, those panzers will roll and when they reach our positions we’re gonna lose a lot of men.”

  Logan looked puzzled. “How can they get tanks through the forest?”

  “They’ve done it before, Sarge, and they’ll do it again. There has to be a way through. If we could find their start point, we could follow it through and discover where it emerges from the forest. That’ll tell us where they plan to hit us.”

  Logan nodded. “It makes sense. Ray, can you carry on? I mean, are you okay to walk?”

  “All the way to the Berghof, and then some.”

  He nodded. “Okay, we’ll spread out and look for tank tracks, they're sure to have tested the route. Move out.”

  Ray got to his feet and almost fell again, but he used the KAR98 like a staff, to support himself. Harry gave him a worried glance.“Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I will be when I’ve nailed some of those bastards.”

  Logan was staring at him, and he didn’t look happy, but he shrugged. “If you’re sure you’re okay, we’ll spread out and get started. Byrd, stay with him, Steiner, come with me. We meet back here in thirty minutes, no more. The clock’s ticking, and no matter what happens, we have to get back before the Krauts come this way.”

  In his weakened condition, the thirty minutes seemed more like thirty hours. Harry went ahead, searching for a passage through the forest. A passage wide enough for tanks, and Ray followed, resting on the Mauser rifle for support. After thirty minutes they hadn’t found it and they returned to the rendezvous. There was no sign of Logan or Steiner, but Kurt arrived ten minutes later. Minus the German helmet.

  “I didn’t want to run into one of our patrols in case they were a tad trigger-happy. These woods are spooky, and our guys are likely to shoot first and ask questions afterward.”

  Ray nodded. “Where’s Logan?”

  “He was checking something out, he had an idea. He’ll be here any moment.”

  It was another twenty minutes before he got back, but he was grinning. “I found it. They tried to camouflage the route with uprooted trees pushed into the track they’d cut through the forest, but one had fallen and looked suspicious. Close inspection revealed they’d sawn it off above the roots and planted it in a hole a couple of feet down. Not enough to keep it upright, and the wind must’ve blown it over. We need to follow it through to the end, see where it comes out, and pass it on to our guys. Now we know, we can give them a warm welcome.” He checked his watch. “We have an hour and a half, and that’s not much time. Let’s go.”

  They followed him through the forest, found the fallen tree, and it was just a matter of searching for trees that looked suspicious. Each time they found one they left it standing and continued toward the next. It was no surprise they were heading west, towards the American lines. The route emerged on the road that led to the town of Bastogne. Where they could strike at the heart of the American lines. They stepped out into the open, relieved to be out of the forest onto hard ground.

  Logan checked his watch. “We need to hurry, there’s not much time left.”

  A voice cut through the darkness. “You’re wrong, buddy, there’s no time left. Time’s up for you Krauts. When you dress up in American uniforms, you’re liable to be shot as spies. Drop the weapons and put up your hands.”

  They were surrounded by four grim-faced MPs, each armed with a Thompson M1. After the previous attacks by Germans disguised as American soldiers, they looked like they were itching to pull the triggers.

  “Guys, we’re on your side.”

  “Yeah, that’s what those Germans said just before they executed a bunch of our soldiers. Last chance, put ‘em up or we shoot.”

  They handcuffed them and marched them into the camp. They tried to persuade them of the impending attack, but they ignored every warning.

  They gave up, and Harry grunted, “At least the United States Army doesn’t shoot prisoners.”

  “You heard what the guy said,” the Sarge growled. “They think we’re German spies. Our army shoots spies.”

  “Shit.”

  With no place to incarcerate them, they locked their handcuffs over the fender of a two and a half-ton truck, a deuce and a half. Logan checked his watch again, and they were almost out of time.

  “In less than an hour, the German panzers are going to pop up out of nowhere, and they’ll hit us with everything they have. Our men won’t have any choice but to run, but a lot won’t survive.”

  He wrenched at the manacles, but there was no way they could get free. In desperation, Cassidy shouted at the nearest MP, a corporal. “Hey, you need to get someone over here to listen. You guys are about to get hit.”

  He shrugged. “You got it wrong, Kraut. It’s us gonna hit the Krauts and send ‘em to hell.”

  “Corporal, while you refuse to listen, their panzers are coming, pushing their way through the forest. They’ve mapped out a route, and it joins the road about five hundred yards from this camp. If you sit on your asses and do nothing, men are gonna die. And they won’t be Germans.”

  He scowled, but he looked uncertain. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  “The name’s Ray Cassidy, 1st Platoon, under the command of Lieutenant Frank Bond. Why don’t you ask him to look us over? Do you think he won’t recognize his own men?”

  He stroked his unshaven chin while he thought it over. “I guess there’s nothing to lose by asking him. But if you’re lying, I’ll be the first to volunteer for the firing squad.”

  He strolled away, and Logan checked his watch. “Twenty minutes. It’s cutting it too fine.”

  He arrived back five minutes later with Bond in tow. The Lieutenant looked them over and he didn’t look happy. “It’s okay, they’re my men. Unlock them.”

  He waited until they were released, his face flushed with anger. “Sergeant Logan, I warned you, if you go off on some harebrained rescue mission I’ll charge all of you with desertion. You’d better come with me.”

  They followed him to join up with the pitiful few survivors of 1st Platoon. They were down to eleven men, and Bond grumbled he’d hold fire on the charges of desertion because he couldn’t afford to lose any more men.

  Before he could continue, Logan gave it to him with both barrels, his voice harsh and cold. “Lt, those MPs wouldn’t listen, but I promise you in the next half hour, you’re about to lose a lot more men.” He quickly filled him in on the route through the forest that would allow enemy tanks to reach American lines unnoticed. “Hundreds of enemy troops will be right behind them. If you don’t do anything, they’ll be all over us. 1st platoon will cease to exist.”

  He looked uncertain. The old Lieutenant Bond was back, with little of the determination he’d shown lately. “Even if what you say is true, there’s not a damn thing we can do.”

  “Dammit, Lt, there's plenty we can do! The artillery is preparing to hit the German camp, so give those guns a new target. The place they plan to emerge from the forest. Our guns could tear them apart with a barrage of shells.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “What I’m sure of is if we don’t do it, most of us are as good as dead.”

  He still looked haunted, still unable to decide “I’m not sure.”

  “Then we’re dead.”

  Chapter Five

  They stared at each other until Logan looked at his watch and stared back at Bond. “Time’s up, it’s now or never.”

  He didn’t reply, but Ray had taken enough. “I’m going to see the Company Commander. See if he’ll listen.”

  He reddened. “Cassidy, you will observe the chain of command. I forbid you to go over my head.”

  “Tough shit, Lieutenant. If you wanna see your men die, that’s up to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to stop it.” He looked at Logan. “Where do I find Major Pryce.”

  “Right here, Private. What’s the problem?” The Major had walked up unnoticed, attracted by the commotion. “Spit it out.”

  “A major German attack is about to hit us, Sir. Tanks and infantry will come pouring out from the forest where you’re not expecting it. We can give you the coordinates of the route, and there’s still time to give the artillery fresh targets. Otherwise, there’ll be more bodies than trees around these parts.”

  He looked at Logan, who nodded. “It’s all true, Major.”

  He took a few seconds to absorb what Cassidy had told him, his expression fierce and determined. Like the man himself. Pryce was barrel-chested, with a square jaw that jutted when he emphasized his orders. Dark, piercing eyes that missed nothing, he was an officer who unlike Bond was able to make decisions. An officer who didn’t just look fierce and determined, he devoted every waking moment to the job at hand. Killing Germans. If they were coming his way, he’d make damn sure his men earned their pay.

  “That’s good enough for me.” He looked around for his radioman. “Get onto our artillery and tell them we have new targets for their guns.” He dragged out a map from his case and showed it to Cassidy. “Tell me where they’re coming out.”

  He pointed it out on the map. Pryce looked dubious. “Are you sure about this? I don’t see how they could get tanks through those trees.”

  “Major, why don’t we show you? If we hurry there may be time.”

  They ran along the track, and Cassidy led them to the break in the trees and pointed. “They’ll be coming through there.”

  “Private, there’s no way, you couldn’t get tanks through that tiny gap.”

  “One moment. Harry, lend me a hand.” They ran to the nearest tree and gave it a hard push. It toppled, and they ran to the next and shoved it over. They started to walk toward the third tree, but Major Pryce was already on the radio issuing fire orders.

  It all happened at once, one moment the camp was slowly waking up, and the next it resounded to shouted orders that echoed around the clearing. Engines cranked up, tank engines, and these were Shermans. When they’d warmed up the engines roared, and the tracks clattered as they headed out to meet the enemy. Troops were running every which way, and Logan told them to recover their weapons and rejoin the platoon. They found their rifles stacked in the back of the MP’s Willys jeep, including the KAR98 he’d taken from the sniper. They found something else. A wooden case of grenades and they helped themselves.

  “We’re gonna have some hard fighting, so we’ll show them Airborne means business.”

  Bond was struggling to come to terms with what was happening. Short, slight, and pale-skinned, his dark, restless eyes were constantly looking everywhere. Working out what to do next, and he was still flummoxed by the abrupt change of plan. Logan grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him back to where the men waited for orders.

  “Lt, they need to know.”

  “I…er…I need to work out a plan, I’ll talk with Mahor Pryce and…”

  “Forget it.” The Sarge spelled it out. “Grab your rifles and every bullet you can find and follow me. The Jerries are on the way, and we’re gonna hit them so hard the bastards will wish they’d stayed in bed.”

  Men snatched up their rifles, Harry hefted the BAR the MPs had taken off him and they ran at breakneck speed along the track. Soldiers were everywhere, most of them Airborne, and they reached the break in the trees where they expected the enemy to emerge. Bond was starting to recover his wits, and he directed his platoon to take cover opposite the expected point of maximum danger. They dived off the track on the opposite side, covering the break in the trees, lying in the snow and slush. Helmets strapped on tight, heads down, rifles locked and loaded, and this time Harry had no complaints about the cold and the wet.

  They heard tank engines in the distance, but the first enemy troops to show themselves were infantry. Major Pryce arrived on the run, saw them coming, and shouted to his radioman for the guns to hold fire.

  “We’ll keep the artillery in reserve to give them a surprise when they show. This is a job for us. 82nd, kill the bastards. Open fire!”

  They leaped up and ran forward, guns blazing, and Harry was shoulder to shoulder with Ray. His BAR spat a hailstorm of bullets that tore into the enemy, and although the enemy outnumbered them, the complete surprise was too much for them to withstand. Some tried to fight back, and a storm of fire crisscrossed the track from one side to the other. A few the Airborne troopers went down, but many more of the Germans fell. The rest were milling around, uncertain of whether to fight or flee. Pryce didn’t give them a chance to decide either way.

  “Fix bayonets! Get in there and kill them!”

  They snapped bayonets to the muzzles of their rifles and ran, hurtling toward the enemy. Men who’d fought from the beaches of Normandy, who’d seen their buddies severely wounded and killed by brutal Germans. Americans taken prisoner gunned down because it was inconvenient to keep them alive, and they were pissed. They’d shed blood fighting all the way to the Ardennes, even fighting off Krauts disguised as Americans, and they’d taken more than enough.

  They charged into the enemy, and the shock of their attack pushed them back. Ray slung the sniper rifle over his shoulder and picked up a BAR after the soldier carrying it had fallen. He and Harry fought shoulder to shoulder, emptying belts of ammunition, reloading, and firing again. Chewing into the enemy ranks, but it wasn’t enough. The Germans stopped retreating when their officers realized they had a huge advantage in numbers and they started to push back.

 

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