Sniper Ridge

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cole didn't have a lot of options, except to get the hell out of there. All hell was breaking loose with this American attack on the ridge. On the one hand, the attack had been a good distraction, drawing the attention of the Chinese defenders, but he hadn't counted on getting caught up on the wrong side of it.

There were foxholes filled with enemy soldiers on his right and left. It was only a matter of time before somebody came along and noticed that he didn't belong there. Things would get a little hot then.

He took a quick peek over the edge of the dead sniper's trench. He could hear firing all around him, but caught only glimpses of the padded Chinese uniforms or their Ushanka-style caps. If they happened to look up and notice him, he'd be a goner. Time to get out of Dodge.

He scrambled up out of the trench and started running back the way he had come, roughly following his original path. He made sure to zigzag as he ran, just in case one of the enemy spotted him. He didn't want to be an easy target.

He came to the wide path that he had crossed coming up the backside of the ridge. He had been lucky that first time around and hadn't seen anyone, but his luck had just run out.

He ran smack dab into the path of a Chinese platoon, moving on the double to reinforce the soldiers under attack. Cole burst out of the underbrush just ahead of them, appearing so suddenly that the lead soldiers halted in surprise. The troops still coming up the trail behind them piled up behind them like water behind a dam.

For the longest of seconds, he and the Chinese stood there, blinking at each other in astonishment.

However, the element of surprise did not last long.

One of the soldiers actually shouted in outrage — or maybe in terror.

I know just how you feel, buddy.

An officer, or maybe a sergeant, started shouting commands. As fast as you could say lickety-split, several rifles were pointed at Cole.

He responded by raising his rifle and firing it point-blank at the nearest soldier. The startled Chinese troops fired back, but Cole was already tearing through the scrub trees on the other side of the path. Bullets zipped around him, but the entire platoon didn't give chase. That would have been quite a rabbit hunt, with Cole as the rabbit. Instead, a couple of soldiers peeled off to go after Cole, while the rest of the unit moved on toward the front line, where there were a whole lot more American soldiers to worry about.

Behind him, he could hear the soldiers crashing through the brush in pursuit, firing as they ran. Cole dropped to one knee and waited until he had a clear shot. He pulled the trigger. One down.

The second man threw himself flat and blasted away in Cole's direction with what sounded like a captured burp gun. Bullets flickered overhead, turning the branches into toothpicks. Cole kept himself as low to the ground as possible.

When the enemy soldier took his finger off the trigger — or perhaps he had run out of ammo — Cole fired at where he had last seen the muzzle flash. He rolled to his feet and kept running. He didn't hear anyone behind him. Either he'd gotten lucky with the shot, or his pursuer had decided that chasing him off was good enough.

In any case, one pursuing soldier was the least of his worries. The artillery was really chewing up the ridge, throwing geysers of dirt and rock around. Chunks of red-hot shrapnel sounded like a whickering horse as it cut the air. He ran down the slope, away from the ridge, to avoid the bursting shells, but a few still overshot the target and exploded in the rear.

Breathing heavily, he finally reached the section of the Chinese line where he had sneaked through earlier. He knew that getting past the enemy troops this time around would be even harder because they would be on high alert.

What he hadn't counted on was there being a lot more troops. This had been the sleepy end of the flank, but it wasn't anymore.

Crouched in the shrubs, he caught his breath and stared in amazement at the swarm of enemy soldiers who now filled the area. Before, there had been just a handful.

Briefly, he worried that they were there to catch him. Maybe word had gotten out that there was a sniper behind their lines. Good lord, I hope they ain't waitin' for me.

However, the troops here seemed to be preparing for the attack. All at once, Cole understood what was happening. While the American attack was happening at the center of the line, the Chinese were planning a counter-attack on the American flank. Worse, they might slip around the flank altogether and attack the rear, targeting the camp itself.

If that happened, the American attack might fall to pieces as men were called back to defend HQ or worse yet, found themselves surrounded.

This was a classic Chinese tactic. Swarm the line and hope to break through. Attack the flanks and slip into the rear. Cole had to admit, the enemy was the master of the surprise attack. And he had just stumbled right into the middle of it.

Maybe he could throw a wrench into the works.

Cole took stock. He had the Springfield and plenty of ammunition. There was a Browning 1911 .45 strapped to his hip. He carried two hand grenades. And if worse came to worse, he even had his old Bowie knife back. He pulled the blade from the sheath and inspected it. He saw with satisfaction that the blade still gleamed. At least the Chinese sniper knew enough to take good care of a knife.

Time to get to work if he was going to stop — or at least, slow down — this Chinese sneak attack on the American flank.

Just me and about fifty Chinese fellers, Cole thought. Pretty good odds.

But first, he needed a better place from which to shoot. Although he had concealment, he was too exposed to return fire. He needed to find some cover.

Keeping low, he skirted the enemy position and moved toward a knoll that rose just behind it. There were a couple of big rocks up there that would do nicely for what he had in mind.

The troops seemed to be organizing themselves, getting ready to move out, so Cole moved faster. The knoll gave him a vantage point of maybe six feet. He wedged himself down between two big rocks, leaving him a kind of rocky V that he could shoot through while being able to see the bulk of the troops nearby. The range wasn't more than a couple of hundred feet. Easy pickings. The problem was that the enemy wouldn't have any trouble figuring out where the shooting was coming from. Once that happened, things would get mighty hot for him up on this knoll.

Cole picked out what looked like an officer, lined up the crosshairs, and fired. No sooner had the man gone down, then he had another round in the chamber. He picked another target, fired. And again.

Below, the enemy scattered, some going to ground in the few foxholes or just diving into the brush. Whenever somebody got the fool notion to show his head, Cole took it off.

It didn't take long for the enemy to figure out that they were under attack by just one sniper — or where that sniper was hidden. Just as Cole had predicted, bullets began to ricochet off the boulders. Lucky for him, they didn't seem to have a machine gun. But if they brought up a mortar, it would all be over.

A bullet struck the rock near his face, a fragment of rock or lead stinging his cheek. More bullets came in as the Chinese directed fire at him, forcing him to keep his head down rather than shoot back.

Can't stay here. If he did, either a lucky shot would find him or the Chinese would flank him — carrying out a miniature version of the maneuver they were planning for the attacking American force.

Cole got an idea. He took off his helmet and wedged it into the rocky V. Now, the enemy had a target. The Chinese obliged him by increasing their rate of fire.

He didn't plan to stick around. Instead, Cole slipped out from behind the rocks, keeping low, and moved off the knoll and back into the underbrush. He popped up long enough to take a shot at one of the enemy soldiers, then dropped back down. He was hidden for now, but once they figured out that he wasn't on the knoll anymore, they would start chewing up the brush — and Cole along with it. The only solution was to keep moving and stay ahead of them.

He popped up and fired, dropping another one of the enemy. Then he kept moving.

Up ahead, the brush started to thin out and the landscape opened up into barren, rocky scree. He didn't like his chances trying to cross that, but there was more brush on the other side where he could lose himself.

He popped up and fired again. The enemy was figuring this out, though. Bullets began to pepper the long grass and chew through the woody shrubs.

Cole braced himself for the dash across the scree. He didn’t like his chances, but if he could just get across it—

There was a shout from the enemy, and the fire began to slacken as it was redirected in the opposite direction.

He soon saw why. An American unit was advancing toward the Chinese, emerging from the brush of no-man's land between the two lines. Cole grinned. Apparently, the Chinese weren't the only ones who had caught on to the idea of sneak attacks. This unit was trying to flank the Chinese position and maybe come around behind them.

Faced with this new threat, the enemy troops forget all about Cole.

He ran back to the knoll, grabbed his helmet, and got back on the rifle. One by one, the enemy defenders either dropped or fled.

Once the American troops approached, Cole took off his helmet again and waved it at them so that they would know he wasn't Chinese.

A sergeant approached, staring at Cole's scoped sniper rifle in amazement. "You just wiped out half of that unit, soldier. I wondered who was back here, helping us out. Where the hell did you come from?"

"Me? Why, I reckon I'm from Tennessee," he drawled.

The sergeant shook his head. "Crazy goddamn hillbilly," he muttered.