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

“Did you get the son of a bitch?” Vaccaro asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Cole said. “Come on.”

Cole didn’t give Vaccaro any choice but to follow him down through the house and out into the street. The Americans were still mopping up, with the Germans shooting at anything that moved, which included Cole and Vaccaro.

“This is nuts, Hillbilly!” Vaccaro protested, one hand on his helmet and the other wrapped tightly around his M-1.

“Shut up and run.”

They sprinted for the church, juking right and left as they ran to make themselves difficult targets. They passed the bodies out front, then ran right through the door of the church.

Inside, more than two hundred American soldiers were huddled down, waiting to see what happened next. They had been expecting to see their German guards return after running outside to join the fight. The prisoners recognized the U.S. uniforms worn by Cole and Vaccaro. Some whooped with joy, but most looked too cold and exhausted for much of any reaction.

It might have been expected that once the guards disappeared, that the soldiers might flee the church and join the fight. However, none of them had weapons and these mostly weren’t combat troops. Running unarmed into the middle of a firefight was certain suicide.

“Boy, are we glad to see you guys,” the nearest soldier said. “I hope there’s more where you came from.”

“They’re right behind us, I can promise you that,” Cole said. “The smart thing to do right now is stay put inside these brick walls.”

A look of concern crossed the soldier’s face. “What about Sister Anne Marie? What about that dumb kid who ran out after her? Did you see them out there? Is the sister all right?”

Cole shook his head.

The soldier slumped back down. “Dammit!”

“Yeah, I know. I’m going after the Kraut SOB who shot them. Now, which way to the steeple?”

The soldier pointed to the far end of the church, where a door to one side of the altar gave access to the steps leading up to the steeple. “Watch out. We saw that German sniper heading back there a while ago. From the look in his eye, we thought he was going to shoot a few of us.”

Cole thought about that, then handed the soldier his pistol. “Take this. If any more Germans come through that door, shoot them.”

“No problem.”

Cole and Vaccaro headed toward the stairs leading up to the steeple. It wasn’t the first time that he had gone after a sniper in a church steeple. The sniper might be trapped, but he had every defensive advantage. There was nothing more dangerous than a cornered animal. Cole half expected to hear a grenade come bouncing down the steps at them. He peered carefully up the stairs that spiraled into shadow.

“After you,” Vaccaro said.

“Out of the way.”

Cole pushed him aside and started up the steps. If that Kraut sniper was up there, he intended on nailing him, no matter what. He got as far as the first landing and stopped.

“Hold on, City Boy. I don’t think he’s up there anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look at that blood.”

Cole nodded toward a bloody footstep, just visible on the dusty stone landing. There was a brick arch there, more of a vent or even like a castle archer’s slit than a window, intended to provide natural lighting for the stairs. The opening was just wide enough for someone to squeeze through. More blood was visible on the brick windowsill.

“The son of a bitch went out the window!” Vaccaro cried.

“Maybe. How high up are we, anyhow?”

Cautiously, Cole looked out the slit. The snow-covered ground was about ten feet below, with footprints in the snow leading away from the church. A few flecks of blood showed against the white snow.

“He’s getting away!” Vaccaro said.

“I ain’t about to jump out that window and twist an ankle. That frozen ground is about as hard as concrete. I’m surprised he made it. Come on.”

With no other choice, they lost precious time making their way back through the church, out the front door, and around back again to the spot where the Kraut sniper had jumped out the window. Cole hated to admit it, but Vaccaro was right. The sniper was escaping.

Cole was a skilled tracker, but he didn’t need any of those skills to follow the German. The tracks were plain as day. They followed the trail to the outskirts of town. Cole kept his rifle at the ready, hoping for a glimpse of their target, but the Kraut managed to keep out of sight.

“Be ready to hit the ground,” Cole said. “He might be trying to get the drop on us, if he thinks we followed him.”

“Why would he think that?”

“It’s the same damn sniper I ran into back in Ville sur Moselle. There’s some unfinished business between us.”

“You’re not the only one he’s got unfinished business with. The whole village will be out to get him. He shot that poor nun.”

“Just keep your eyes open.”

They lost the trail in a jumble of other German tracks but managed to pick it up again on the other side when he saw another fleck of blood in the snow.

Soon, it became clear that Cole’s worries about an ambush were unfounded.

The tracks struck out across the field, toward the hilltop where the German forces still held the high ground. Nearest the village, the slope was wide open, but closer to the forest, small trees and shrubs provided cover. The enemy sniper had simply disappeared.

Like a rat fleeing a sinking ship, the German had fled the fight in the village.

“Come on, let’s go after him,” Cole said.

Vaccaro grabbed Cole by the shoulder, but seeing the look in his eyes, quickly let go. “He’s gone, Hillbilly. We both know that forest is full of Krauts. No way we can go after him.”

“I can’t let him get away with what he did. It ain’t right.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re fighting a war. There’s nothing right about