Sniper's Justice (Caje Cole Book 9) by David Healey (best classic books txt) 📗

itself, as the enemy pressed from all sides. What food could be found was being sent to the front, leaving the civilian population to survive as best it could.

“I hear the Americans have chocolate,” Krauss said. The young soldier had settled into the snowy forest floor near Hauer. Like Hauer, he gnawed at the rapidly freezing bread.

“If we capture any chocolate, you can have mine,” Hauer said. Krauss was hardly more than a boy; it wasn’t surprising that he dreamed of chocolate. Hauer did not care for sweets. As a former butcher, what he longed for was red meat. Steaks, roasts, ham. That was proper food for a soldier. When was the last time they had eaten any meat other than sausage? He grunted, shaking his head. “Now better eat your bread and get some sleep, or you won’t be good to anyone.”

The Germans weren’t the only ones on the move through the frozen hills and mountains near the border with Germany. Caje Cole and his squad rode in the back of a truck, enduring yet another bone-jarring jolt as the truck moved along the snow-covered road. The truck was open, lacking even a canvas covering to block the wind.

“Happy New Year, boys,” somebody said.

Those who bothered to reply told him to go to hell.

“At least we ain’t hungover,” the soldier pointed out.

They should have been enjoying some R&R, hot food, and booze. Instead, New Year’s Eve had come and gone in the back of this truck, with nothing more potent to drink than canteen water.

By now, the truck ride felt endless. It was slow going. The road wandered and the convoy had to slow at every curve to keep the vehicles from sliding off the road. Every couple of miles, one of the trucks in the convoy found itself spinning its tires helplessly, trying to climb a hill. The soldiers had to get out and push.

Just when it seemed like victory in the Ardennes Forest was going to signal a good start to this new year of war, the Germans had done the impossible and launched a fresh attack to the south. Once again, the Germans had shown that they were not necessarily defeated and in retreat. The soldiers in the truck were among those who had been rushed to reinforce the gaps in the thinly spread American lines. There were supposed to be some French soldiers joining the fight, but so far, nobody had seen any. There were even rumors that the Germans intended to re-capture Strasbourg, the largest city in the region.

Cole sat right up against the cab, glad for whatever shelter it offered from the wind. He sagged on the bench seat and bent over in a coughing fit.

“Hillbilly, you look like hell,” said Vaccaro. “You ought to be in the infirmary.”

“Do you see an infirmary around here?”

Vaccaro looked around the bouncing interior of the truck as if he might find one hiding in the corner. “Nope.”

Cole grunted.

“Then let me at least get you another blanket.” Vaccaro looked around the truck again, his gaze settling on one of the new soldiers who had been sent to fill their ranks after the decimating fighting since before Christmas. “Hey, Tawes. That’s your name, isn’t it? Give me your blanket a minute.”

Private Tawes did as requested. Vaccaro tucked the blanket around Cole’s shoulders. When he caught Cole’s raised eyebrows, Vaccaro said, “What, you didn’t think I was going to give you my blanket, did you?”

A few seats away, Tawes started to protest. “Hey, that’s my blanket. Give it back!”

“Aw, stuff a sock in it, greenbean. You got to earn this blanket. Anyhow, they say shivering is good for you. It keeps you warm.”

Sullenly, Tawes dipped his head lower between his shoulders, looking like a cold turtle trying to stay warm.

Cole tugged the blanket tighter around his shoulders, shivering uncontrollably. He had started feeling poorly a couple of days ago and now had a fever and chills. His body ached all over. Truth be told, all that he wanted to do was crawl into a hole somewhere and sleep. Sick and weak as he felt, the truck ride was pure agony.

“Do you think we’ll get to fight the Germans?” Tawes asked, running his hands up and down his upper arms to keep them warm.

“I’ll tell you what, Tawes. If you’re so anxious to see the Germans, we’ll let you have first crack at them.”

The men rode on gloomy silence, each bounce of the truck threatening to shake loose something important and mechanical—like maybe the motor. The troops in the back of the lurching truck had no choice but to grin and bear it.

Finally, the convoy stopped while a fallen log was cleared from the road. The driver of the lead truck explained that there had been a sharp crack sound, and then the upper third of the tree had come crashing down from the hilltop. He had slewed the truck to the left, bracing himself for incoming artillery, but there was no attack. It was deduced that the sap within the tree had frozen and chosen that moment to suddenly burst the trunk. The driver still felt spooked.

“Everybody stay on the trucks,” Mulholland ordered. “If you’ve got to take a leak, do it out the back.”

Vaccaro spoke up. “Lieutenant, we need a medic over here, sir.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Cole, sir. He’s sick as a dog.”

The lieutenant looked annoyed at the mention of Cole’s name. Cole seemed to have a talent for ticking off officers. “All right,” Lieutenant Mulholland said. He looked around, spotted a medic riding in the next truck, and shouted in his direction. “Doc, get over here and take a look at Cole, will you? And hurry it up.”

Medics were not actual doctors, but “Doc” was their almost universal nickname. This one wore a large red cross on his helmet and another on his arm, the hope being that this might keep him from being shot at on the battlefield. It didn’t help much. The Germans