Ardennes Sniper: A World War II Thriller

CHAPTER 3

The car carrying Von Stenger plunged on through the forest. No one said much. After he finished his cigarette, Obersturmbannführer Friel managed to fall asleep again. The general emitted several deep sighs of resignation. Von Stenger cracked the window, lit another cigarette, and spent some time thinking about the long years that had led up to this moment.

Von Stenger had seen more than his share of action, starting in Spain back in 1938 when Hitler had sent military "observers" to help the cause of dictator Ferdinand Franco. Von Stenger was already an accomplished marksman, and his role was to perfect the art of sniper warfare. He proved quite adept — gifted, in fact. He was not only a good shot from years of boyhood hunting trips, but also quite clever in his tactics.

After Spain, he had seen action in Poland and Russia. God, what a mess the Eastern Front had been. Only the fact that he had been wounded in a sniper duel at Stalingrad and then evacuated to Berlin had saved his life — not so much from the bullet wound as from the onslaught of Russians.

It was in Stalingrad that Von Stenger had earned his nickname, Das Gespent—The Ghost — for his ability to slip unseen among the city ruins and reap Russian after Russian. The effort had earned him the Knight's Cross he wore at his throat, making him Germany's most decorated sniper. Although he had been made an officer almost out of hand because of his family and connections, Von Stenger had resisted being in charge of anything or anyone other than himself.

However, it was only natural that while recovering from his wound that he had served as an instructor at the Wehrmacht's sniper school. He found that he enjoyed teaching snipers. He was good at it. He was older than the trainees, many of whom were hardly more than teenagers, and his reputation preceded him so that his trainees respected him.

While teaching, he thought of ways to be even better as a sniper. He read everything he could on sniper warfare and survival techniques. It was interesting that the British had compiled the most information about sniper tactics, going back to the Napoleonic wars. The German military, too, had a rich tradition of employing Jäger—lone hunters and military scouts equipped with rifles for long-range shooting. He passed the best of what he learned on to his students.

Von Stenger saw teaching as a way station, however. He never doubted that he would return to the field when the time came, and put his knowledge into practice.

It was training and superior equipment that gave the German snipers an advantage — the Americans had no such special training for snipers other than the basic marksmanship taught to all soldiers.

In Russia, more than a few Germans and Russians had been forged into expert snipers. Between the cold and the constant fighting, the Eastern Front had been hell. Now the Russians were pressing at the borders like the Barbarians at the Gates of Rome. Von Stenger shuddered to think of what might happen if Germany's last defenses fell. The Reich that had been destined to last a thousand years now had its back against the wall.

The Allies had swarmed ashore at Normandy on the sixth of June. Since then, Von Stenger had been fighting the Americans, Canadians, English, and the odd Frenchman. It was now December, and the end of the war looked near. Short of a miracle, defeat was almost certain. Germany was running low on petrol, troops, food, and airplanes. Allied planes pounded German cities, slaughtering German civilians by the thousands with incendiary bombs. No, it wouldn't be long now.

Von Stenger kept such thoughts to himself, however. And like any good German, he would fight until the bitter end.

If the SS didn't shoot him first.

After driving through the woods for an hour, the car slowed. The general beside him tensed. Friel slept on. The line of cars passed through an enormous iron gate that swung on stone pillars. Could it be? With a quickening of his heart, Von Stenger realized that they must have reached Hitler's fabled secret headquarters. Alderhorst. Like many secrets surrounding Der Führer, Von Stenger had assumed such a place was only a rumor.

Beside him, Friel woke up and peered out the window. "Ah, Alderhorst," he said. "We made good time."

"You have been here before?"

"Haven't you?"

"The Reichspost must have fallen down on the job. Either that, or Der Führer skimped on the postage."

The SS officer smiled and lowered his voice. "Kurt, I appreciate your sense of humor and the fact that you are a man who thinks for himself. But in this place… my friend, it may be wise to choose your words carefully. Or better yet, keep your mouth shut."

Feeling chastised, Von Stenger nodded. Friel was right, of course. The German High Command was not known for its appreciation of witty banter. They were a literal bunch. If you criticized the postal service, then it implied you were criticizing the entire Nazi regime.

"What on earth are we doing here, Aldric?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Kurt. We are about to find out."

The cars emptied out in the courtyard, spilling their contents of high-ranking officers. Von Stenger was shocked to spot SS General Sepp Dietrich and Wehrmacht General Hasso von Manteuffel in the crowd. He himself was a mere hauptmann. Who had invited him along?

"But I don't understand. What am I doing here? Everyone in those other cars is a general or at least a colonel. I'm just a sniper!"

Friel grinned again. "No, you are not just a sniper. You are the best sniper in the Reich! You are here because I requested you, of course."

Von Stenger stared. "So you know what all this is about?"

"Not exactly, but I knew it wasn't to be shot, ha, ha!" Friel lowered his voice. "Did you see old Rothenbach in the car coming up with us? He thought his number was up."

With the exception of Friel, most of the other officers did not seem to know whether to be relieved or in despair at having arrived at the Führer's headquarters.

They filed through the thick oak doors into a massive assembly hall. Guards armed with submachine guns loomed everywhere. Some held Rottweilers on chain leashes. These sights did nothing to put anyone at ease. No coffee or food was served.

In the old days, the grand hall was where barons and knights would have feasted on roast boar in front of a roaring fire. But tonight there was no heat except for whatever came from the electric bulbs overhead. Those were a 20th century addition, of course. At the front of the room hung a large map, flanked by two flags. Von Stenger recognized the map as depicting the Ardennes — but that made no sense. The terrain was so rugged that there was hardly any fighting there, or any real need to defend it. Only a handful of troops faced each other, more as a symbolic presence than for any strategic purpose. Nobody was coming through the Ardennes Forest in great numbers.

An officer stood at the front of the room and called the officers to attention. The generals and colonels got to their feet and sucked in their bellies.

Then Reichsführer Adolf Hitler entered the great hall. He appeared stooped, as if worn down or exhausted. Von Stenger was shocked. The man he had seen many times early in the war had appeared to have boundless energy. Yet even now, Von Stenger could sense something coiled within the Führer, reserves of power, much like a cornered bear or bull waits for the right moment. There was no weakness.

All around him, the officers seemed to be holding their breath.

The change in the Führer’s appearance was surprising. Von Stenger had seen him in person many times during the early days after he came to power. He was such a charismatic man then, so full of energy. Germany, lost and belittled after the defeat in the Great War, had been eager to follow a man of such vision. The years of war, however, showed clearly in the lines etched across Hitler's face and in his stooped shoulders, as if he carried a great weight that no one else could see.

As the officers took their seats again and waited in tense silence, Hitler revealed his plan quietly and slowly at first. It was something he called Operation Watch on the Rhine.

"My generals, the time has come for us to change the tide of war," he said matter of factly. "We must crush the Allied forces and drive them back into the sea."

In many ways the plan that Hitler laid out was Germany's version of D-Day — only this massive invasion would take place through the Ardennes Forest and across the Meuse River, which was the natural boundary between the rugged Ardennes region and the more open country of Belgium — and France beyond.

Hitler explained that the operation had been planned in utmost secrecy. Most of the generals in the room had no idea that all through the late summer and fall, panzer corps had been massing along the German border for the push into Belgium. Great caches of ammunition and petrol were dispersed in the Ardennes to resupply German forces. What remained of the Luftwaffe had been gathered at secret air fields in order to support the attack.

Von Stenger wondered where so many men and so many tanks had come from. The forces along the Eastern Front, the final defenses against the Red Tide, must be nothing but straw men and cardboard tanks. No, Hitler was making one last great gamble here. It was clear that it was win or lose — if the attack failed, there would be no way to replace what had been lost.

Hitler's voice built to an excited crescendo. He became animated as he had in the old days, exhorting the troops to victory at Nuremberg. Now his hand chopped at the air. Spittle flew from his lips. "Nothing short of victory! There is no turning back!"

Abruptly, the Führer ended his speech. He stood there before them, no longer a stooped old man but their charismatic leader once more. For the moment, he had cast his familiar spell on the officer corps.

"Heil Hitler!" echoed through the room as men sprang to their feet. He had given them a plan. He had given them hope.

Von Stenger glanced over at Friel's face. It glowed in admiration.