By Ariejan de Vroom
Copyright © 2012 Ariejan de Vroom
It had been 29 hours since Willem van Dijk had last moved. His limbs were cold and stiff, but he knew he had to keep still, hidden. The resistance had put the barricade in place three days ago and all he had to do was wait for the German convoy to show up. Once it did, he would have his revenge.
The grinding noise of the three approaching armored cars made him forget his drowsiness and the cold. He suddenly became aware of how much noise his own breathing was making. His carefully arranged camouflage made him invisible to the enemy. They would know where he was soon enough, though. The sound of his M1903 Springfield rifle, loaded with five .30-06 rounds would tell the Germans exactly where he was.
Inching to a halt, two soldiers clad in grayish uniforms climbed from the front car. Pointing their MP44's outward as they scanned the area for hostiles. There were none. Slowly they approached the tree trunk that lay across the road.