He forced his mind to focus on the task at hand. He kept his eyes roving over the landscape. It had gotten so cold that he had to leave his gloves on. He slipped them off now, deciding that he’d rather risk frostbite than not being able to fire his rifle in a hurry.
"What are we looking for, exactly?" Pomeroy wondered.
"Small, angry fellers with rifles," Cole said.
"You know any Chinese?"
"Hell, no. You?"
"No. What happens if we actually capture one of these sons of bitches? It's not like trying to talk to the Germans. At least you had half a chance of understanding each other."
"I reckon it's unlikely any of them know a word of English."
Back in Europe, most GIs had known a smattering of German words. He'd heard it said that English was a distant cousin of German, anyhow. This enemy and his language remained a mystery.
Cole moved forward cautiously. A dusting of snow covered the ground, but his hunter's eyes did not detect so much as a rabbit track. Did any game even live up here? The brown landscape appeared desolate.
There wasn't much brush, offering little opportunity for cover to any hidden enemy troops. Scarcely anything grew up here, unlike the relatively lush mountains back home. The Appalachians were mostly soft, rounded, ancient hills. Covered in dense green forests. The mountains here had sharp ridges like the spine of a starved hog. The issue was that the landscape itself was so vast, full of hollows and ravines where an entire regiment could be lurking. The lieutenant had wanted reassurance that there weren't enemy troops hiding over the next ridge. But what about the ridge beyond that, or the next?
"Keep your eyes open," Cole warned.
"You think?"
Cole felt very exposed crossing the open slope leading to the nearest ridge. He signaled for Pomeroy and the kid to wait, then slipped his rifle over his shoulder using the sling and began to climb the last thirty feet toward the peak of the ridge. He tried to move quietly, but the loose gravel and soil didn't cooperate. If anyone was lurking on the other side, they would hear him coming.
Finally, he reached the peak and eased his head over. A long slope slid down into a ravine that was actually thick with brush. Already, the weak winter sun was getting low, leaving the copse in shadow. Another slope rose sharply on the far side of the ravine, pocked with the dark openings of shallow caves. He kept his head down, studying the brush and the distant slope. He strained his eyes, hoping for some telltale glimpse of movement. He didn't see so much as the flicker of a bird down in that brush.
But something didn't feel right. Cole had learned to trust his instincts. He listened to that strange part of himself that he had come to call the Critter. It was a primitive part of his brain that he didn't understand, other than that it was like that sixth sense that animals possessed, or maybe his cave-dwelling ancestors. What the Critter told him was that there was something hidden down in that ravine. He fought a sudden urge to get the hell out of there as fast as possible, forcing himself to watch and wait for a while longer. Finally, he gave up and eased his way back down to where Pomeroy and the kid waited.
"Well?" Pomeroy asked.
"I didn't see anything, but there's somebody down there, hiding in a big ol' thicket growing in the bottom of that ravine."
"Wait a minute. You said you didn't see anything. Did you hear something?"
"No, but I can tell all the same. We need to get the hell out of here."
Pomeroy studied his face. "Hell, you actually look spooked. That's got to be a first."
"Let's go." Cole started moving. "I got a bad feeling about this place."
"You know, your gut feeling won't be good enough for the sergeant, and definitely not for the lieutenant. Just say you saw something."
"You want me to lie and say that I saw a hundred of the enemy down there? I can't." In Cole's hill country accent, it came out as cain't. Cole knew Pomeroy was right that nobody was going to go on his gut instinct. But making up a story about enemy troops wouldn't help.
They retraced their footsteps, practically at a trot. The shadows gathered around them and grew longer. The sun slipped behind one of the mountains, abruptly plunging the plateau into twilight as if a shade had been drawn. The cold, dark night was coming on fast.
Reaching the American perimeter, they entered between the foxholes gouged into the frozen ground. Some of the men had gotten into their sleeping bags for warmth, leaving just their shoulders exposed as they peered over the rim of their foxholes. A few soldiers were already asleep, but no one seemed concerned about keeping their eyes open. The biggest threat seemed to be freezing to death. Cole wanted to shout at them that they had better keep their eyes open.
Accompanied by the lieutenant, the sergeant wanted to see them right away.
"Well?" the officer asked. "I hope you're going to tell me that there's nothing out there but more rocks."
"The ravine on the other side of that ridge looked to be empty, sir. But I have to say, it sure didn't feel empty."
Cole felt Pomeroy's glance, giving him a warning to keep his mouth shut.
"Did you see anything or not, Private? Is there a battalion of the enemy over there, waiting to attack us once it gets dark?"
Cole hesitated. "No, sir. Not that I saw."
Lieutenant Ballard nodded, then turned away to deal with other duties. Sergeant Weber caught Cole's eye and smirked, but stopped short of saying anything within earshot of the lieutenant. Cole was pretty sure that would come later.
When they had moved off, Pomeroy chuckled. "When are you going to learn, Cole? The lieutenant basically asked you a yes or no question, which you answered with maybe."
"Keep your eyes open tonight," Cole said. "I'm telling you that there's something out there."
Chapter Ten
Cole studied the mountains in the fading light. The sight of the rugged landscape did little to dispel his sense of uneasiness. The trip to reconnoiter the surrounding ravine had put him on edge, but he thought that any trouble would come sometime in the early morning hours. Once it was fully dark, he crept into his sleeping bag, hoping to get some sleep. Pomeroy was already in his bag, bundled up so that only his face was exposed, dead to the world.
Cole couldn't blame him for sacking out. The biggest enemy at the moment was the cold. He had overheard the lieutenant saying that headquarters was predicting temperatures of 25 degrees below zero. Combined with the incessant wind, that made it some of the coldest weather that Cole had ever experienced. Even in the sleeping bag, Cole's body shivered constantly.
"You've got first watch, kid," Cole said.
"We have sentries out," Tommy said. "Why do we need to keep watch?"
Normally, with sentries on watch, the guys back in the foxholes could then sleep. But Cole didn’t trust the sentries, so had set watches for their own foxhole.
"Did you or did you not come with me this afternoon to check that ridge?" Cole asked, snapping at the kid in a harsher tone than he'd meant to. It was a sign that he was as tired as the rest of them.
"But you didn't see anything."
"Just ‘cause I didn't see the enemy don't mean he ain't there."
"You keep saying that," the kid said. "The sergeant and the lieutenant don't seem too concerned."
"The last thing they want to do is look like a couple of nervous Nellies and upset everyone," Cole explained. "Did you notice that the lieutenant doubled the sentries?"
"No, I guess I didn't."
"He's no dummy. He can sense it, same as I can."