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

line of communication between the Germans in the village and the ones on the hill,” the captain explained. He handed Vaccaro a pair of wire cutters. “They’ve got a telephone line running up there. See if you can find the damn thing and cut it.”

“Sir, won’t they just use their radio if that happens?”

“Sure they have radios, but if they’re like ours they don’t work right in these hills,” the captain said. “Go cut that wire.”

Orders given, the captain hurried off into the dark.

Mulholland spoke up. “Vaccaro, you heard the captain. Take Cole with you, if he’s up to it. If Cole goes with you, there’s at least a chance that you’ll come back in one piece. We attack at oh six hundred, so get a move on.”

“Yes, sir.”

Vaccaro turned to Cole. “Aren’t you glad that you’re feeling better?”

Cole shook his head. He was feeling much better than he had been, but he wasn’t eager for this mission to cut the German wires. “City Boy, what have you and your big mouth gone and gotten us into?”

“Good luck,” Mulholland said. “Remember, the attack starts whether you’re back here or not, so hustle.”

Before they started out, Cole reached into his pack and brought out a white smock that he had taken off a dead German. For whatever reason, the U.S. Army had been slow in adapting to this simple form of camouflage that was so effective in the snow. Cole even had a helmet cover. It was for a German helmet, but it fit well enough. While the camouflage wasn’t perfect, it went a long way toward helping him melt into the snowy backdrop.

“What about me?” Vaccaro asked.

“I took this off a prisoner,” Cole said. “I guess you’ll just have to capture a German.”

“Or shoot one.”

“Not if he shoots you first, which seems more likely, on account of how you make a right good target in all this snow. You stand out like a preacher at a whore house.”

“Great.”

The two moved off into the field. They were both exposed, but there was no helping it. Fortunately, some thin clouds were passing over the stars. If the moon had been out, a trip across the field would have been pure suicide.

They started across the snowy slope leading toward the hill north of town. While the Germans held the village, they also had troops on the hilltop, giving them the high ground above the entire valley. From up there, they had a clear field of fire to drop mortars or bring machine guns to bear on much of the ground surrounding the village. The troops themselves were hidden from view by the forest, but had a clear view out—almost like a one-way mirror in a funhouse.

You had to hand it to the Jerries, Cole thought. They knew their business, inside and out. Whoever controlled that hill could rain hellfire down on the approaches to the village, so the Germans had made sure that they were dug in up there.

What does that leave us? he wondered.

The Americans controlled the road leading toward the village. Unfortunately, to reach the village, they would have to go through the railroad underpass that had been the scene of the disastrous assault on the village earlier, before it was understood that the Germans were there in strength. The wrecked hulk of the Sherman tank still stood in the middle of the road, creating a barrier against further attack.

As the captain had noted, the success of the German defense also meant being able to coordinate between the forces in the village and those on the hill.

That was where Cole and Vaccaro came in.

“How in the hell are we ever going to find that wire?” Vaccaro wondered, speaking quietly. They were both well aware of being exposed, and how far sound carried in the still night air. With no choice, they climbed higher up the slope. The snow wasn’t more than eight inches deep, but between the snow and last fall’s deep grass, it was just enough to make crossing the slope difficult. Before long, they were both breathing hard. Cole realized that he could have used another day or two to recover from his bout with the flu.

“With any luck, we’ll see the tracks where the German engineers laid that wire down,” Cole said. “There ain’t been much snow since then. Not more than a dusting, anyhow.”

“If we see it, can’t you just shoot the wire from here?

“Yeah, that would be real smart. We’d have every German in those trees shooting back at us.”

“I noticed that you didn’t say you couldn’t hit the wire. It was the noise you were worried about. I mean, I was talking about shooting a wire.”

“Yep,” Cole said.

Vaccaro waved the wire cutters. “I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

They trudged through the field, glad for the clouds, but keeping a wary eye on the trees above them. The tree-line began a couple of hundred feet away. They couldn’t see the Germans, but they were there, all right.

Finally, up ahead, they saw where the snow had been disturbed. In fact, a regular trail had been beaten through the snow, likely with men and supplies moving between the hill and village below.

“Give me the cutters,” Cole said. “You stay here.”

“What?”

“I’m the one with the camouflage, remember? If the Krauts have eyes on anything, they’ll have them on that trail.”

Cole unslung his rifle and moved on alone, taking his time. He wanted his motions to be slow and steady in order to attract less attention, just in case he was visible at all against the snowy backdrop. Although it was still dark, snow had a funny way of gathering what light there was.

He found the rubber-coated wire, half-buried in the snow. He had to take off his gloves to work the wire cutters, but soon found that the damn things were useless. Dull as a butterknife. The wire just kept getting hung up in the blades. Not only that, but his cold fingers couldn’t seem