The Hesitant Hero (21 page)

Even before Jolie could speak, a woman came out of the house wiping her hands on her apron. A younger woman followed her out of the house.

“Bonsoir,
” she greeted. “Who are you? What are you doing here this time of the day?”

“My name is Jolie Vernay,” she said. “My friend and I are trying to get these children away from the Nazis. They caught us and my friend was shot. We need a place to hide.” She saw shock run across the man’s face and she prepared herself to hear a rejection.

“He was shot?” the man asked. He came forward and looked over the edge of the wagon. “Is he dead?”

“No. I’m a doctor, and I can treat his wound, but the Germans will come looking for us.”

“How did you get away from them?”

“We had to kill one of ’em,” Antoine said importantly. “The other one was already dead—his friend shot him by mistake.”

Jolie wished that Antoine had obeyed her order to keep silent, but then she thought,
It might be just as well to tell the whole truth.
“These children are from an orphanage in Ambert. If the Germans catch them, their lives will be in danger. Will you help us in the name of God?”

The younger woman came over to the wagon and peered at the children huddled on the seat and in the back, taking in each face methodically. The attractive woman was in her late twenties or early thirties, Jolie thought.

She turned and said to the older couple, “We must take them in.”

The two had a quick conversation and then the man nodded. “We will help you all we can, but you realize this is a dangerous situation, don’t you? For all of us.”

“I’m very sorry to put you in this situation. You understand if the Germans find us and know you’ve helped us, they will execute you. They will have no mercy on you.” She watched their faces and saw no fear in them.

“The filthy Boche will do anything,” the man said. “I fought them in the last war, and I will fight them again. If they come for you, we will tell them nothing.”

The young woman appeared to be thinking hard. “We must take them to the old house.”

“Yes, Annette,” the man said at once. “That is good. You will have to hide the wagon too.”

“Where is the old house?” Jolie asked.

“We used to live in another house about half a kilometer back there,” the young woman said as she pointed. “We built the new house closer to the road.”

“I can’t even see the other one,” Jolie commented. “It sounds perfect.”

“Yes, the area is overgrown now. No one would think to
go back there. The roof leaks, but it’s sound enough. I don’t think the Germans will go that far into the woods.”

“Quickly,” the young woman said. “We must go.”

Without another word, she headed off behind the house. The older woman called out as Jolie urged the horse after her. “We will bring you something to eat and our first-aid supplies for the sick man.”

“Merci, madame,” Jolie cried out.

As the wagon caught up to the woman who was striding quickly through the pasture, she turned to Jolie and said, “By the way, my name is Annette Fortier.”

“And my name is Jolie Vernay. We are so grateful to you and your family.”

Yolande was bouncing as the wagon ran over the uneven ground, but she cried triumphantly to Antoine, who was holding her to keep her from falling out, “Didn’t I tell you that if we prayed, God would help us?”

He grunted but made no other comment.

Nature had definitely taken its course on the land between the new house and the old house. Weeds had grown knee-high, and bushes and saplings had taken over much of the land. As the wagon bumped over the little-used lane, Jolie again worried about Tyler’s head bumping but hoped the blankets would give it adequate protection.

The small house was nearly hidden by brush and dwarfed by two huge trees in front of it. Jolie pulled the wagon as close as she could to the door and then called Crazy to a stop.

Annette opened the door and put a brick in front of it to hold it open. Jolie instructed the children to take all the food and blankets into the house and then to return to help with Tyler. The children quickly tumbled from the wagon, their arms full of supplies.

Rochelle left Marie inside the house with Yolande and then the older children helped Jolie and Annette carry Tyler inside. Carrying him was much easier this time, with two adults helping.

“I will hide the wagon deep in the woods and tie the horse out there as well,” Annette told Jolie after they had Tyler settled on a bed.

“Why are you helping us like this, Madame Fortier?” Jolie asked.

“My husband was trapped on the beach at Dunkirk and escaped on an English ship. The Germans are evil. I know that much. My husband will fight wherever he can until this country is free of the filthy Germans!” She took a deep breath and looked at all the children, who were peering at her. “I won’t be long. Do you have milk for the little one?”

“Only a little.”

“I’ll bring some when I come back.”

“Will the Germans find us here?” Yolande asked as Annette left.

“No, God has brought us this far. He won’t abandon us.”

****

Tyler groaned at the pain in his head. He felt buried in blackness, as if he were wrapped in a huge black bunting of wool.

Gradually the darkness lifted, and he felt hands touching his head. He tried to push away whoever was hurting him, and his hand struck something soft.

“Be still, Tyler. You’re all right.”

Consciousness came rushing back, and when Tyler opened his eyes, he saw Jolie’s face above him. An oil lamp threw a yellow corona of light over her, giving her hair a reddish glow. She was looking at him strangely, her lips soft and maternal.

“You’re all right,” she said. “You were shot, but it’s not serious. I had to put a couple of stitches in.”

Tyler tried to remember what had happened and suddenly he did. He tried to sit up, but Jolie put her hand on his chest and held him down. “Don’t try to move. You’ll feel better if you lie still.”

“The Germans. What—”

“They were both killed. The lieutenant’s first shot hit the soldier, and then your shot killed the lieutenant. But his bullet grazed your head.”

Suddenly Damien’s face appeared to Tyler’s left. “Does it hurt? Did you know the Germans are both dead and we’re hiding in this house because Madame Fortier says it’s all right?”

“Hush, Damien,” Jolie said with some irritation. “Go to bed as I told you.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“Then get sleepy.”

Damien went away grumbling and intimidated by the determined set of Jolie’s features. “They’ve all been terribly worried about you,” Jolie told Tyler.

“Where is this place?”

“It belongs to a family named Fortier—an older couple and their daughter-in-law.”

“But how did we get here?”

“We put you in the wagon and hauled you here. We knew the Germans would expect us to go north, so we came back south.”

“Jolie, they’ll be searching every house in the vicinity.”

“I know, but we traveled a pretty good distance before we stopped here, and this house is completely hidden from the road. The Fortier family has another house closer to the road. That’s where they live. If the Nazis quiz them, they’ll tell the Germans that nobody has passed by this way.”

“What about Crazy and the wagon?”

“They’re well hidden. Don’t be concerned.”

A movement across the room caught Tyler’s eye. A woman was standing across the room by a fireplace, apparently cooking something. She now brought a bowl over and said, “You must eat. This will be good for you.”

“I must thank you, madam, for your kindness.”

He felt dizzy as Jolie gently helped him to a partially upright position and then put her arm around his shoulders. “Perhaps you could feed him, Annette, while I hold him.”

“I feel like a stupid baby!” he muttered. “I never did like to have to be taken care of.”

“It will teach you humility,” Annette said, and a trace of a smile touched her broad lips. “Some Americans can use a little extra humility.”

Yolande appeared at Tyler’s side, her face troubled. “Oh, you’re awake. I was afraid for you.”

“I’m all right. Don’t worry. I’ll be as good as new first thing you know.”

“Could I lie on the bed beside you?”

“Sure you can. It’s a big bed.” Tyler tried to be patient while the woman fed him the soup, but he felt a weariness creeping in on him. “My head’s swimming, and . . . I seem to see two of you.” He blinked and the illusion didn’t go away, which was a bit frightening. “I hope this isn’t going to be permanent.”

“You probably have a concussion, Tyler. You have to rest and be very still. Now, let me help you lie down.”

Tyler lay back, his head pounding, and closed his eyes. Yolande moved in closer and he clasped her small hand in his.

“Maybe I can pray for you to be well,” the little girl said. “We prayed for God to bring us somewhere where the Germans wouldn’t catch us, and He did.”

“I think that would be very good, Yolande.”

Tyler lay very still and listened to the small voice as the child prayed the simplest kind of prayer for him. But as she was praying, extreme fatigue came over him and a warm blanket of darkness enveloped him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

House-to-House Search

Lieutenant Bernard Scharmann felt the perspiration coating his forehead but did not dare move. He held his hands down at his sides, his back straight as a ramrod, as he stood in front of Major Hermann Dietrich. He had served under the major long enough to recognize the danger signals, and he was well aware of the dangers that beset him now. He would not be the first aide that Major Dietrich had demoted back to the rank of private and thrown into an infantry spearhead division, where the odds of death were all too good.

The two were standing in the library of a local pastor whose house they had commandeered as a temporary headquarters. The walls were lined with shelves containing books of all sorts, some of them very old, some new, some paperbacks and others exquisitely bound in expensive leather. Sunshine poured in through a window to Lieutenant Scharmann’s right, illuminating the face of Major Dietrich and emphasizing the flush that discolored his cheeks.

From outside drifted in the noise of vehicles roaring by—motorcycles, trucks, and staff cars—and overhead the hum of aircraft scored the heavens. Desperately Scharmann racked his brain trying to think of some way to pacify Dietrich, but absolutely nothing came to him.

Ever since the death of Lieutenant Werner Braun, Dietrich’s nephew and the pride of his life, it seemed to Lieutenant Scharmann that Dietrich had stepped out of rationality and reason into mindless rage. Lieutenant Scharmann had
been present when the news of the death had arrived, and it had seemed as if all other rational and reasonable powers of thinking had left Dietrich, and he had thrown himself into a tornado of activity. He seemingly had forgotten his duties of sweeping across France to nail down the critical checkpoints and had given up sleep in a furious search of the countryside for the murderers of his nephew.

“Why are you just standing there, Lieutenant? Do I have to do everything myself?” A vein throbbed in Major Dietrich’s forehead—a certain sign Lieutenant Scharmann had learned to recognize. When that vein throbbed, Dietrich was capable of any sort of violence.

“Sir, I’m sending more men out to search for these murderers, but it is—”

“Why do you not go yourself? Our men need a good officer, and somehow, Lieutenant, I think you are not the one. Perhaps you would serve more efficiently as a private!”

Scharmann felt beads of perspiration coalescing and running down his face. He had long known that there was no way to argue with Major Dietrich when he was in this mood. Everything he might say would be seized upon and used as another opportunity for provocation. It was best to remain silent, and he did so by holding himself rigid while Dietrich marched back and forth, his legs moving stiffly as if he were a robot.

“Look at this area, Scharmann,” the major said as he pointed to the map on the wall. “It’s a small area. We have enough men to search every house and every business. Did you order them to look in the cellars and in the attics?”

“Yes, sir, I did. I followed your orders explicitly, passing them on to the men. They all understand how important this is, and—”

“They understand nothing! They are stupid and will do anything to get out of performing their duties.” Dietrich banged the map with his fist. “If you do not find these people within twenty-four hours, you will regret it, Lieutenant.”

“I will go at once to talk to those making the search. I will make the matter plain to them!”

“You may threaten them in my name. If they do not find these dogs, they will all suffer for it!” Major Dietrich glared at the pale-faced officer and snapped, “Make it plain!”

“I will tell them, sir.” Scharmann saluted, but Major Dietrich gave him a withering look of disdain. Wheeling, Scharmann left the room, and as soon as he had closed the door behind him, he pulled off his hat, fished in his pocket for a handkerchief, and with an unsteady hand wiped the perspiration from his face. Under his breath, he cursed the fate that had brought him under the authority of a man like Hermann Dietrich. He remembered sourly how happy he had been when he was appointed to this position, for serving as Dietrich’s aide was an almost certain route to promotion. Now, however, he would have changed places with almost anyone in the Third Reich.