Blood of Vipers Read Online Free Page B

soldier
     they saw?
    Once they were clear of the farm, Cal gave
     Helgard the
     bandage from his C-1 vest, which she wrapped around her
     husband’s head to stop
     the bleeding from the gash above his left eye.
    They followed a rutted farm road that passed
     along a canal
     to their left. Hedges of willow and privet rose to the right.
     Perfect place for
     an ambush. The Germans spoke in whispers, which he tried to hush
     at first, but
     the gunfire had receded and he gradually relaxed. Even the
     artillery had taken
     a lull and he heard frogs croaking their spring mating calls,
     oblivious to the
     chaos that enveloped the human world.
    Hans-Peter and Helgard started arguing in
     low, intense
     whispers.
    “Fighting about me again?” Cal said.
    “No,” Greta said. “About whether it is safe
     to go back to my
     grandmother’s house or whether the Frontschweine are
     there.”
    “What’s that mean, anyway?”
    “Combat swine. Front troops. Not all of them
     are Russian
     army. You understand? Like the man in barn. They get behind the
     lines. Pillage.
     Abuse the women. They are everywhere.”
    “Yeah, I saw some of them in the woods, too.
     Disorganized
     mob. Why doesn’t someone drive them out?”
    “There are not enough men left. The army is
     at the front,
     fighting regular troops.”
    “They had enough men to organize a hunt for a
     single
     American pilot. Hunt me with dogs, too.”
    Didn’t do them any good once they stumbled
     into that ambush.
     Maybe if they’d been paying attention to the combat swine in the
     first place
     they’d still be alive.
    “Believe me, there is nothing we can do.”
     Greta’s English
     was improving rapidly, as if it had only been rusty from disuse,
     and burdened
     by her terror. “This is the third time we have run from them
     since January when
     we crossed the Vistula and the Nazis took my little brother to
     fight with the Volkssturm .
     We thought we’d be safe with Oma.”
    “There’s nowhere safe. The war is over, you
     know.”
    “Not yet.”
    “Well, it will be. A few days now, maybe
     weeks.”
    “Maybe for you,” she said. “Not for the
     people under the
     Russians. That is why we must reach American lines. You want the
     same thing,
     yes?”
    The argument picked up between the farm
     couple, voices
     raised.
    “Shh,” he told them. “Whisper, for God’s
     sake. Why the devil
     are you still arguing anyway?”
    Greta said something to her parents, and they
     fell silent.
     She whispered to Cal, “Whether it will be safe to get our things
     from Oma’s. My
     father says yes. Mother, no.”
    “Oma?”
    “That’s my grandmother. We were living with
     her.”
    “That wasn’t your house back there?”
    “No. We are from Upper Silesia. We went to
     town to catch the
     train for Hamburg, but the planes destroyed the locomotive.”
    “And where’s Oma?” he asked quickly, before
     she made the
     connection between the air attack on the train and the downed
     American pilot
     walking by her side. “Why didn’t she come with you?”
    She didn’t answer the question about her
     grannie. Instead,
     she kept explaining, as if she’d caught his disbelief that
     they’d waited until
     now to flee the Russians. “It all happened so quickly. Two weeks
     ago, they were
     fifty miles away. The brave men in the Wehrmacht were already
     turning the enemy
     back. We could return home by summer.”
    “That’s what they told you?”
    She whispered something else that he didn’t
     pick up, and
     then added, “We turned around when the train would not run. No
     way to make it
     home by night, so we knocked on doors. Nobody answered. Vater
     thought we would
     be safe in the barn.”
    “How long to Oma’s house?”
    “An hour on foot, maybe longer. You are
     limping. Are you
     injured?”
    “I can manage,” he said. “Hope the old lady
     is ready to go.
     We don’t have time to wait around while she gathers up her
     knitting.”
    Greta