Ardennes Sniper: A World War II Thriller

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Caje Cole looked through the rifle scope at the Germans.

Six Wehrmacht infantrymen, passing around a pack of cigarettes in the gray winter dawn. From a distance of two hundred feet, the four power scope wasn’t powerful enough to pick out the brand, but from the flash of red and white Cole guessed they were smoking Lucky Strikes.

Taken off a dead American, he reckoned. No shortage of those, thanks to these Krauts.

One of the Germans laughed, and the sound telegraphed across the frigid air, making the enemy sound much closer. These were battle-hardened Wehrmacht soldiers, wearing winter gear filthy with the mud of a hundred fox holes. They couldn’t see Cole, who had crept all night with Vaccaro toward the German lines, finally burying themselves in a rotting wood pile at the edge of an abandoned farm. Dirty white strips of cloth, wrapped around their rifle barrels, disguised the outlines of their weapons.

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