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

The young soldier nodded, got to his knees on the hard stone floor, and closed his eyes. Soon, his lips moved in silent prayer.

Sister Anne Marie shot a glance upward, in the direction that she imagined the soldier’s prayers to be ascending. And then she moved on. Prayer had its place, she thought, but so did action.

After a couple of hours, the bandages and the small bottles of medicines had taken care of the more immediate needs of the captured soldiers. Fortunately, there were no grievous wounds.

But as it became clear that the POWs weren’t leaving the church anytime soon, there were other concerns.

“Sister, do you think there’s any way you can get some food and water in here? Maybe some blankets?”

Looking around at the suffering men, she nodded. The cramped quarters had not done much to increase the temperature. Some men huddled together for warmth.

“I will see what I can do,” she said. “There is not much food, but I’m sure that I can get water and blankets. The hardest part will be getting past the guards.”

“Try finding another bottle of booze,” suggested Corporal Moore, the medic. “That seemed to grease the wheels last time.”

Sister Anne Marie nodded her thanks at the guards and returned to the village streets. Outside, the scene had not changed all that much. The Germans had settled in, ready to defend the town.

So far, no other Americans had appeared to contest the German occupation, but she had a nagging thought. Was Wingen about to become even more of a battle zone? The thought frightened her.

But she had more immediate concerns. The soldiers needed food, water, and blankets. They needed better medicines if there were any to be had. Where would she find these things?

The village shops were closed, but that had not stopped the Germans, who had broken the locks and ransacked the premises. She went from shop to shop, hoping to find something, anything, that the American POWs could use, but the shops had been cleaned out.

In the end, she turned to the parishioners for help. She went from house to house like a beggar, with the villagers sparing what they could. On Corporal Moore’s advice, she also secured two bottles of liquor. Schnapps, this time.

Loaded down, she headed for the church, her mind already whirling with thoughts about where else she might be able to locate supplies.

She had not gone far when a gruff voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Where do you think you are doing?”

Sister Anne Marie looked up from her basket to see a large German soldier blocking her path. With a trill of fear, she realized that it was the same German sniper who had shot the prisoner on the church steps.

“I am going to the church,” she said. “I have supplies for the prisoners.”

“All that is for the Americans?” He sneered. “What are you doing to help our good German soldiers?”

“They are not locked inside our parish church.”

“Whose fault is that? Surely their own,” the sniper said. “They are the ones who allowed themselves to be captured. Why do they deserve anything? If I’d had my way, they all would have been shot. That would have saved us a lot of trouble. Who knows, maybe I will still get my way?”

She looked around for the German officer. Last time, he was the one who had kept the sniper in check. However, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Let me see what you have for the Americans,” the sniper said.

He reached into the basket, tossing neatly folding blankets into the snow. He took out a can of food. “Why waste food on men who are as good as dead?”

The sniper didn’t seem to expect an answer from her. He put the can into his coat pocket. Next, he grabbed one of the bottles of schnapps, which went into another pocket. He tossed a precious vial of mercurochrome away.

“Please,” she said.

“Hauer! What are you doing?”

They both turned to see the officer heading in their direction. Hauer scowled, while she felt relieved.

“I am inspecting these items she is taking to the prisoners,” Hauer said.

“Stop pestering that nun. Let me worry about the prisoners. I need you up in the church steeple. There are reports of American troops headed this way. You and your rifle are going to help hold them off.”

“Yes, sir.”

The sniper gave her one last glare, then moved toward the church so that he could take the stairs up to the steeple.

The officer turned his attention on Sister Anne Marie. His flinty glare softened. She could see that he was younger than he looked at first, and that his face was tight with exhaustion. “Don’t mind him, Sister. Go on and take that to the prisoners.”

She took a few minutes to pick up the blankets, shaking the snow off them as best she could.

As she moved toward the church, the officer shouted a warning. “Look out! Achtung!”

She froze. An instant later, a dark bundle flew through the air in front of her and hit the frozen ground with a resounding thud.

To her astonishment, she realized that a body had just crashed to the ground directly in her path.

She gasped, staring down at a dead soldier wearing an American uniform. She realized that it must be the body of the soldier who had been in the steeple earlier; this was the man that the German sniper had shot.

She looked up at the steeple and saw Hauer leering down at her. He had tossed the dead body out of the steeple, clearly intending for the corpse to drop on her head. If it hadn’t been for the officer’s warning shout, she would have taken another step and been crushed by the falling body.

The German sniper had just tried to kill her.

For once, Sister Anne Marie did not offer a prayer of thanks, but a silent curse directed at the sniper above. It was only with a powerful act of sheer willpower, brought about by reminding herself that she was a nun and should