Southwest of Mons, September 1944

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According to 2Lt Paddock's map, they were on the outskirts of the Belgian municipality of Frameries, just entering the small village of Sars-la-Bruyère. They weren't really expecting enemy contact as the Germans had been on the run for quite some time. No one thought that circumstance might cause them to stop running. When there is nowhere to run, you stop. You either fight or surrender.

"I don't see anything Sarge." Pvt Theodore Olson handed the field glasses back to Sgt Brandt who tucked them away inside his field jacket.

"Damn it, maybe my imagination is running wild, but I could have sworn I saw movement in one of those houses ahead." Sgt Brandt signaled to Corporal Jack Wilson to bring the rest of the squad up.

Rue de Taisnières, Frameries, Wallonia, Belgium
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Obergefreiter Klaus Vinckmann froze as he saw a glint from the roof of a small shed down the street. He had shifted position slightly when he'd seen the Americans cautiously entering the village. He had no plans of firing at just anyone. His sergeant had told him to cause delay and confusion in their pursuers.

"Kill their sergeants and their officers, Klaus. That will slow them down." had been his sergeant's last order to him.

He looked through his scope, yes, there. Two Americans on top of the shed, one with field glasses. "Do I shoot?" he asked himself. When he saw the man hand the field glasses to the other man, he couldn't decide which to shoot. Maybe neither of them. Might just be a couple of scouts, he reasoned.

Looking south towards Brandt's position.
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As Brandt and Ollie climbed down off the shed, the rest of the squad joined them. 2Lt Paddock was with them, along with the new platoon sergeant, a SSgt Graves, who had replaced SSgt Draper, killed in action a couple of weeks ago.

"Whaddaya got Bill?" the lieutenant started to lean around the corner to look when SSgt Graves pulled him back by his collar. Which earned the sergeant a nasty look.

"Sorry, L.T., but the battalion commander'll have my ass if I let you get killed. What did I tell you about sticking your head around corners?" Graves wasn't kidding around, they'd lost too many young lieutenants through careless mistakes. The last platoon leader they'd lost had cost the platoon sergeant his stripes.

"Sorry Sarn't Graves, I get it, but..."

"No worries L.T., I thought I saw movement in one of those buildings down the street. Both Ollie and I watched for a bit, but didn't see anything." Sgt Brandt eased the tension with his quick report to the lieutenant. Which earned him a nod from his platoon sergeant.

Sgt Brandt thought about it for a bit, then had Cpl Wilson take his section across the road and through the hedge on the other side. It would offer them some concealment as they worked their way into the village.

When Wilson's men had gotten through, Sgt Brandt took a deep breath and yelled over to Wilson, "Cover me." Then he stepped around the corner of the building, turned to Pvt Olson and said, "Follow me," and began to work his way up to the next house. He had gone maybe ten feet when Pvt Olson, who was watching his sergeant, and was already stepping out behind Brandt saw dust fly up from in front of Brandt, as if from his field jacket. With a muffled grunt, Sgt Bill Brandt was down in the street.

"Jesus Sarge, NO!!" Ollie ran to his sergeant.

Obergefreiter Vinckmann worked the bolt of his K98k, regretting that to do so he had to take his eye off the scope, then nestled the butt of his rifle against his cheek once more. He saw the American he'd fired at down in the street, his helmet had come off, the same helmet which had the horizontal stripe on the back indicating a sergeant which had made him a target.

When the second man had dashed out from behind cover, Vinckmann shot him too, then slid back out of sight. He was out the back of the building and further down the street before the Americans reacted.

Sergeant Wilhelm "Bill" Brandt was having trouble catching his breath, inside he was seething, how could he have made such a stupid mistake, stepping out into the street like some damned rookie.

What was worse was that Private Theodore Olson, Ollie to the squad, was down next to him, his eyes glassy, his helmet gone, his blond hair darkened by the blood flowing from the furrow the German bullet had made through the top of his skull. He was angry, he'd gotten one of his men killed.

"Cease fire, cease fire!" Cpl Wilson managed to make himself heard over the noise of every weapon in the squad firing down the street and into those buildings most likely to have sheltered the sniper. Wilson knew that the Kraut was already gone, moved to another position, ready to gun down another man if he had the chance. "Now what?" he wondered.

Cajun and Cat had already dragged Sgt Brandt back into cover and Doc Milbury was already working on the wounded man. As he worked, he told the lieutenant, "He'll live, if we get him back to the aid station, like right now."

The lieutenant got on the radio and within minutes a jeep roared up. Sgt Brandt was strapped onto the stretcher on the hood, and just like that he was gone. He'd been with the unit since Sicily, had made sergeant shortly after D-Day and had led the squad well. Corporal Jack Wilson, who had been friends with Brandt since boot camp, was shaken, he wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to feel, but 2Lt Paddock didn't give him much time to think about it.

"Wilson, it's your squad. SSgt Graves..."

"Arty is on the horn L.T., you have the coordinates?"

"Yup, right here..."

As Paddock and Graves called in an artillery mission to obliterate the small village, Sgt Brandt was already under the knife. The sniper's bullet had gone through his left lung and nicked his spine. While the surgeon had done his very best and Brandt would live, he might not ever walk again.

Private Theodore Olson was buried in a temporary cemetery behind the lines. Through a bureaucratic mix up, he was reported as missing in action. His parents wouldn't learn of his death until 1946.

The artillery destroyed a large part of the small village and also killed Obergefreiter Klaus Vinckmann. He was listed as missing in action, though there was no one to report this to as his entire family had died in the bombing of Hamburg in August of 1943.

His body was never recovered.

The city of Mons, Belgium was liberated just a few days after Sgt Brandt's squad encountered the sniper.

The war ground on...

A 16th Infantry halftrack and other vehicles from the 3rd Battalion arrive in Mons, Belgium, in early September 1944.

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