To his relief, no more bullets hit the château. Friendly fire wasn’t unheard of in the confusion of war. The firing in the woods where the Germans were hidden also came to a halt, bringing a tense silence to the morning.
Keeping low, Cole slid his rifle into place and waited for a target.
When he heard the shout from the château, Brock ordered his men to stop firing.
Brock decided to take a chance and see if the escort detail would be willing to hand over their German prisoner, or maybe exchange him for help fighting the Germans in the woods. If nothing else, they had a common enemy.
Deciding that it was worth a try, he slowly stood up, certain that he was concealed from the Germans somewhere on his flank, but visible to the occupants of the château. He kept plenty of thick trees between himself and the German position.
After showing himself, he shouted to get the attention of the troops holed up inside the massive stone house.
“Anybody home?”
After hearing the shout, Cole watched as a lone GI appeared at the edge of the woods, keeping several large trees between himself and the German position. Cole studied him through the scope, thinking that something about the man looked familiar, and not in a good way, but he couldn’t place his finger on it. What the hell did this guy want, and why had he been shooting at the house?
“Who the hell are you?” Cole hollered.
“If you’ve still got that German prisoner in there with you, send him out,” the GI shouted.
Cole was taken aback. What was it about Bauer? Everybody wanted a piece of him. How did that GI know anything about their German prisoner, anyhow?
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t you remember me? I remember you, hillbilly. The name’s Brock. Corporal Brock. All we want is your prisoner. Send him out. There’s no need for us to shoot at each other. We’re on the same side, after all.”
Then it dawned on Cole where he had seen the GI before. He realized that he was looking at the same man who had confronted him in Bastogne over Bauer.
He took a deep breath and shouted back, “Hell no! That ain’t how it works.”
“It’s your funeral, hillbilly.”
Brock ducked behind the tree, but not before firing a few shots at the house. Bullets pinged off the side of the château; stone chips and more bits of wood flew. Cole had no choice but to duck. Being shot at by his own side was a first.
Over his shoulder, Vaccaro wanted to know what was going on. “What the hell is happening out there? They’re shooting at us. Are they our guys or not?”
“Yes and no,” Cole said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They want us to turn Herr Barnstormer over to them.”
“What did you say?”
“That’s why they’re shootin’ at us.”
Vaccaro turned to look at Bauer. “You sure are popular.”
Cole shook his head. He couldn’t believe it, but both the Germans and the Americans wanted their prisoner.
As much as he disliked Bauer, Cole didn’t plan on giving him up to anybody. Orders were orders.
If Cole was completely honest with himself, it also came down to the fact that he didn’t like being told what to do. Not by some vigilantes from his own side, and definitely not by a bunch of Krauts.
Meanwhile, the shooting had started up again. Bullets peppered the château from two different directions, apparently from both the German and American forces.
They were stuck in the middle, attacked from two different directions, by two different groups.
Cole had never encountered anything like this yet, but it was a familiar story.
“Well now, don’t this beat all,” he muttered.
“Think we can hold ’em off?” Vaccaro wondered.
“We can as long as we have daylight,” Cole said. “Once it gets dark, we won’t be able to see them come at us, so that’s gonna be a problem.”
Vaccaro lowered his voice. “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to hand Herr Barnstormer over to our guys and let them fight it out with the Germans while we slip away. It would sure be easier.”
“Easy ain’t the same as right,” Cole said.
Vaccaro shook his head. “Hillbilly, let me ask you something. What does that German even matter to you?”
“It ain’t about the German. It’s about somebody thinking they can tell me what to do.” After a moment he added, “Tell
“Uh-huh. You have got to be the stubbornest bastard that I’ve ever met. But you know what? I kind of feel the same way about it.”
“Then that makes two of us,” Cole said.
“In that case, I’ll ask again. How do you like our chances?”
“The house is solid, but it’s a lot for us to cover. I’d feel a whole lot better if there were more than two of us who could shoot straight.”
