“Matthews, you’re a good shot, aren’t you, lad?”
“Yes, sir,” Matthews said but slapped his hand across the back of the soldier standing next to him, “but Lakes here is better.”
“All right, Lakes. Shoot those Jerrys.”
“On it, sir,” Lakes said and dropped to a knee.
Taking careful aim, Lakes exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The first bullet struck the Nazi on the left in the back and sent his body reeling below. He fired another round and caught the second one in the back of the head. Shots rang out from above, pelting the walkway with lethal lead. Waving them to the hole, McCabe stepped through into the scarred corridor beyond.
Slaughtered bodies and tattered limbs carpeted the floor. Heavy black smoke choked his lungs and stung the back of his throat. Everyone dropped low. Soldiers c
