Righteous Sniper

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Think we can hold ’em off?” Vaccaro wondered.

“We can as long as we have daylight,” Cole said. “Once it gets dark, we won’t be able to see them come at us, so that’s gonna be a problem.”

Vaccaro lowered his voice. “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to hand Herr Barnstormer over to our guys and let them fight it out with the Germans while we slip away. It would sure be easier.”

“Easy ain’t the same as right,” Cole said.

Vaccaro shook his head. “Hillbilly, let me ask you something. What does that German even matter to you?”

“It ain’t about the German. It’s about somebody thinking they can tell me what to do.” After a moment he added, “Tell us what to do.”

“Uh-huh. You have got to be the stubbornest bastard that I’ve ever met. But you know what? I kind of feel the same way about it.”

“Then that makes two of us,” Cole said.

“In that case, I’ll ask again. How do you like our chances?”

“The house is solid, but it’s a lot for us to cover. I’d feel a whole lot better if there were more than two of us who could shoot straight.”

Cole looked over at Lieutenant Rupert, to see if the officer had any ideas to deal with the situation that they were in. Rupert looked pale as the snow outside. It was a reminder that the lieutenant wasn’t a combat soldier. He was an intelligence liaison, whatever that meant, other than the fact that Rupert wouldn’t amount to a hill of beans in a fight. He was holding a carbine, but without any real conviction, like someone who had picked something up at the store and hadn’t made up their mind to buy it or put it back. He also carried a Webley revolver in a holster that looked as if it might be permanently snapped shut.

Considering that they were outnumbered and outgunned, Cole decided that Rupert needed a crash course in using that rifle.

“When was the last time you fired that weapon, Lieutenant?”

“I’ve never fired it, if truth be known,” Rupert admitted.

“Come on over here a minute, and let me show you how it’s done,” Cole said.

He got Rupert positioned at the window, where he had a clear field of fire across the open lawn to the woods. The open space was covered with fresh snow, unmarked except by a few footprints that the German had left when he’d approached the door.

“Aim for that stone pillar yonder,” Cole said, indicating the entrance pillars to the final approach to the château.

“Shouldn’t I shoot at someone? It seems like I’m wasting a bullet.”

“Don’t worry about that. They won’t know you’re not shooting at them. You’ll be making them keep their heads down.”

Cole knelt behind Rupert and made a few adjustments. For starters, he repositioned the stock so that it fit better into the lieutenant’s shoulder. He also showed Rupert how to let the full weight of the weapon rest on the windowsill, which made it easier to aim.

“Better?”

“I’d say so. Now what?”

“Aim for the middle of the pillar, just like you’d aim for the middle of your man. Don’t try anything fancy. Let your breath out, then breathe in again and hold it. Now repeat after me, Lieutenant. Breathe, aim, fire.”

“Breathe, aim, fire,” Rupert whispered.

Cole sensed the rhythm of Rupert’s breathing, then said, “Squeeze the trigger gently. Don’t yank it. You want to kind of surprise yourself when the rifle goes off.”

The rifle fired, breaking the silence of the winter landscape. Instantly the empty brass cartridge went spinning away, and the action fed another shell into the chamber. That was the beauty of a semiautomatic.

In the distance, a chip of stone flew from the pillar.

“I hit it,” Lieutenant Rupert said with satisfaction.

“That’s good,” Cole said. “When it matters, you might hit your target and you might not. He could even get back up after you hit him. In that case, adjust your aim and fire again. Keep pulling that trigger until you run out of bullets or the son of a bitch is down for good.”

Rupert nodded. Maybe it was Cole’s imagination, but the young lieutenant looked less pale than before. He didn’t have the heart to point out that the hard part of shooting at someone was that they were likely to be shooting back. Rupert would find that out soon enough.

He left Rupert keeping watch at the window.

Looking around, he was surprised to see both Madame Jouret and Lena brandishing shotguns. Both guns appeared to be antiques with fancy scrollwork and fine-grained wood stocks, the sort of shotguns that had likely cost a small fortune and were meant to impress, very different from the plain, sturdy Iver Johnson 12-gauge that Cole had grown up with.

However, he had to admit that the antique shotguns had likely been used for their share of hunting. Neither the daughter nor the lady of the house seemed to have any qualms about using them, and they handled the weapons with familiarity. They certainly looked more confident than the lieutenant did. Here in the Ardennes region, it made sense that women had their fair share of experience with hunting and shooting.

Cole nodded toward the hallway. Madame Jouret nodded back, and both she and her daughter positioned themselves there. From their post, they could use the shotguns to cover the front door and any other windows at the front of the house. If any of their attackers got past the door or through the heavy shutters covering the windows, they were going to be peppered by those shotguns. The walls were thick enough, but the windows were the weak points.

For good measure, he and Vaccaro shoved some of the heavier furniture against the windows. Madame Jouret’s glass-fronted china cabinet might not stop the enemy from getting in, but it would sure as hell slow them down — and help keep their bullets out. Despite its delicate contents, the thing weighed as much as a locomotive.

Cole felt better now about their ability to defend the château. They had just doubled their numbers thanks to Rupert’s shooting lesson and the ladies with their shotguns. He and Vaccaro could float as needed. Cole intended to head upstairs to see what damage he could do with his sniper rifle.

They should be OK as long as their attackers didn’t bring up any heavy weapons, at least until nightfall. The fight could get a lot more challenging then.

This was the best they could do. The question was, Would it be enough?

He noticed Bauer watching him. There was no smirk or amused look on his face. Instead, he appeared deadly serious, every inch the experienced combat officer that he was.

The German officer held up his hands, which were still bound.

“Cut me loose,” he said in a tone that rankled Cole, because it sounded very much like an order.

“Not a chance,” Cole replied.

“The men out there are here because of me,” he said quietly. “You must at least allow me a chance to defend myself — unless you prefer to rely on the two ladies and a kinder leutnant?”

Vaccaro had overheard and offered his two cents’ worth. “He’s got a point, hillbilly. We can at least give him Rupert’s revolver.”

Cole thought it over. After a moment’s hesitation, he drew his big bowie knife, stepped closer to Bauer, and cut him free.

The German shook out his hands to restore circulation. The cords had left red, painful-looking indentations on his wrists.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Cole said, the look on his face and the knife in his hand making it clear how things would go if Bauer caused any trouble. Slowly, he sheathed the knife. “Lieutenant Rupert, give Herr Barnstormer your sidearm.”

Bauer took the weapon and expertly flipped the cylinder open to make sure that it was loaded. He also accepted a handful of spare bullets from the lieutenant. It was a six-shot .38-caliber Webley revolver. The revolver would be useful only at close range, but they didn’t have a lot of weapons to go around.

“Thank you,” Bauer said.

“I’ve only got one rule for you,” Cole replied. “You can’t shoot any Americans. You can only shoot Germans. Otherwise, this might be kind of hard to explain later.”

“You mean that I can only shoot Messner and his men?” Bauer offered a cold smile. “It will be my pleasure.”

“What can you tell me about this Messner and the men with him? Do we need to be worried about them?”

“They are competent soldiers,” Bauer said. “I am only guessing this, but it is likely that he has Obergefreiter Dietzel and Gettinger with him. These are men who have some personal loyalty to him. Perhaps they are inspired by him. He shows them some favoritism in return. Gettinger has no special talents other than obedience, but Dietzel is a Jaeger — the equivalent of what you might call a scout-sniper.”

“Yeah, I reckon he’s the son of a bitch who took a shot at me,” Cole said.

“Lucky for us, he missed.”

Cole snorted. He couldn’t tell if Bauer meant that. “One more thing. You stick with me. Where I go, you go.”

As it turned out, they had made their arrangements just in time. From the window, Lieutenant Rupert shouted, “Here they come!”

Cole turned and raced upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. Vaccaro followed and so did Bauer. He could hear both men pounding up the steps behind him.

Cole couldn’t help thinking, I hope to hell that Kraut doesn’t shoot us both in the back.

It had gone against Cole’s better judgment to cut Bauer free and let him have the revolver, but in this situation he was willing to take a chance. They needed every fighter they could get.

The German machine gun opened up, once again hammering the walls and windows. A flurry of bullets stitched across the front door like an insane woodpecker, sending wood chips flying.

But the machine gun was only a distraction. The Germans that Rupert had seen were trying to take advantage of the hail of fire to get closer to the château. They came at the house from the left, one man running forward as the other covered him, then repeating the process for the other man.

The problem was that they had to cross the open ground, both making clear targets against the snow.

Cole went to an upstairs window where the glass had already been blown out by the machine-gun fire, the shards poking from the frame like jagged teeth. The German crouched beside him.

Cole put his rifle through the window and took aim. Through the scope, both Germans sprang closer. They were out in the open with nowhere to hide. With luck he would be able to shoot both men.

Then came another burst from the machine gun. The gunner must have spotted Cole in the window because several rounds came through and struck the wall behind them, ricocheting down the hall with an unnatural whine that made his spine crawl.

“Scheise!” Bauer shouted, throwing himself flat.

It wasn’t an unreasonable reaction to being targeted by the machine gun. Cole found himself doing the same.

The gunner knew his business, firing in short, measured bursts. Finally, the firing stopped long enough that Cole dared to poke his head back up. The two Germans were out of sight, having managed to cross the open ground.

Now it was his turn to mutter “Scheise.” He reckoned that it was as good a swear word as any.

Where had those two Krauts gone to?

He realized that meant that they must have reached the front of the house. Pressed against the wall, they would have been out of sight of the defenders.

The machine gun hadn’t resumed firing, probably so the gunner wouldn’t hit his own men.

“Where did they go?” Vaccaro shouted. “I can’t see them.”

His question was answered when they heard the deep BOOM of a shotgun downstairs. She and Lena were stationed at the front windows. Did this mean that the Germans were trying to get in?

There was another BOOM.

“Dammit, Vaccaro, go help ’em!” Cole shouted.

“You got it,” Vaccaro replied, then flew down the stairs. Soon after, they heard a rifle shot, then another.

“Should we not help them?” Bauer wondered. He started to get up, but Cole pulled him back down. “Hold on, I’ve got another idea. You stay here.”

Cole ran to one of the bedrooms. He immediately found what he was looking for — a handheld mirror sitting on a dresser. He didn’t know if it belonged to Madame Jouret or Lena, not that it mattered.

What he really wanted was a grenade, but it hadn’t seemed necessary to bring any on their escort mission.

He hustled back to the window where he had left Bauer. The German saw the mirror in Cole’s hands and raised his eyebrows.

“You wanted a crack at these guys, so now is your chance,” Cole said. “If I hold the mirror for you, think you can get a shot at them with that pistol?”

Bauer smiled with understanding. “That is very clever, hillbilly.”

With his thumb, Bauer pulled back the hammer on the revolver, cocking the weapon.

“Now!”

Cole stuck the mirror out the window, trying to angle it so that Bauer could see the two Germans crouching out of sight at the front of the house.

“Tilt it down,” Bauer said.

Cole obliged. A moment later, the German officer leaned out the window and took a shot. There was a curse and a yelp of pain from below.

However, the machine gunner was being watchful and must have spotted the movement at the window. A burst of fire shattered what was left of the glass. Bullets smacked into the back wall of the hallway as Bauer and Cole tried to melt into the floor. Lucky for them, the exterior walls of the château were thick enough to stop any stray bullets.

Downstairs, a shotgun boomed again.

That was soon followed by a whoop of triumph from Vaccaro. “They’re running!”

Both Cole and Bauer looked out the window, weapons ready. They caught a glimpse of the two Germans headed for the trees, one of them limping badly. Apparently Bauer’s bullets had done some damage.

With the pistol, Bauer was quicker than Cole and got off a couple of shots, although at this distance there would be little hope of hitting anything. Cole was just getting the scope lined up on the limping soldier when a burst from the machine gun hit the window. Cursing, he ducked, but he soon found himself covered with bits of glass and shredded wood.

The attack had been repulsed, but the Germans had gotten away.

“That damn machine gun,” Cole said.

“There will not be much ammunition on the Kübelwagen,” Bauer said. “They may not have enough for another attack.”

“If we ain’t dead first.”

After brushing themselves off, Cole and Bauer went downstairs. They found Madame Jouret reloading her shotgun. The lady of the house seemed calm, cool, and collected, not at all shaken up by the attack as she slipped two fresh shells into place. Cole felt reassured.

“We ran them off,” Vaccaro reported.

“They’ll be back,” Cole said.