Free Ardennes Sniper: A World War II Thriller by David Healey Page B

Weihnachtskarte . The arrival of the tanks, with their treads churning the road to slush and their engines filling the air with exhaust, soon shattered that peaceful illusion.
    This was the first village beyond the Baugnez crossroads and Malmedy, where the massacre had taken place. Most of the German troops were not even aware of the killings. Those who had taken part were still filled with a kind of blood lust, like dogs that had gotten a taste of raw meat.  
    Some of the villagers came out to wave at the tanks as if the brutal machines were on parade. Although this town was in Belgium, they were close enough to the border that a few Germans had settled here over the years. A middle-aged woman emerged from the tavern with a basket loaded with bottles of beer and sandwiches, handing them out to the passing troops. Clearly, she and a few of the parade spectators were German loyalists. An older man emerged from a house and waved an old German flag, the black, red, and gold tri-color of the Weimar Republic.
    Others in the village clearly were not so enthusiastic. They stood with hands at their sides, gazing sullenly at the unwelcome sight of German tanks, or hid in their houses.
    "Do you want something to eat, Herr Hauptmann?" his driver asked.
    "No, but you go ahead."
    "Thank you, sir."
    The driver parked the Schwimmwagen and ran to the woman handing out the sandwiches and beer. He returned, grinning.
    "Real ham on fresh-baked bread!" he said, holding the sandwich aloft like a prize. "At least some of the people here are loyal Germans!"
    "Good thing for us," Von Stenger said. He had kept his rifle at the ready, even now as his driver gulped down the sandwich and guzzled the beer. Old habits died hard, and he half expected some partisan to take a potshot at them from an attic window. But so far, the only thing shot at them by the more unfriendly locals had been caustic glares.
    Von Stenger noticed the sergeant with the scar, along with a couple of SS men, saunter toward the woman. One of the men took away her nearly empty basket. What did they want with her?
    He did not spend much time wondering about that, because he soon spotted Friel, who had climbed down from his tank to consult with his officers over the map. The sniper could see from the way Friel kept waving his right arm in a chopping motion that he was upset. He walked over to hear what was being said.
    "We need to get across the Meuse River before this weather breaks!" Friel said. "If the Allied planes catch us too soon, the whole operation will come to a halt."
    Von Stenger caught his eye. "I would not mind a break in the weather," he said. "Nothing but snow, cold, and more snow."
    "You won't be saying that when you have an American plane buzzing over your head." He turned to the others. "We must be across the river by morning! There can be no more excuses!"
    Friel's voice had the force of an iron bar when he needed it to; his men seemed to bend under it. His eyes shined with intensity and energy. For all his urbane ways, it was no wonder that he was an SS officer. There had been rumors that Friel had suffered a nervous breakdown after returning from Russia, where his unit had earned the nickname The Blowtorch Brigade for its propensity for burning everything Russian in its path. Seeing him now, Von Stenger thought that maybe Friel had indeed suffered a breakdown, but not necessarily from any weakness of character. Just the opposite. Friel must have needed time to recharge. How could someone possibly maintain that level of intensity?
    Von Stenger drifted away from the other officers, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and lit a Sobranie in the lee of the tavern. The thick stone walls served as an effective wind block against the icy air and snow. The walls were not thick enough, however, to block out the sound of the woman's scream that came from within.
    He looked around with only passing interest. The woman who had been handing out sandwiches and beer was gone.