Desperate Measures
An Include Yourself in the Story Challenge
She sat silently, watching. There was no sound except the gentle night wind touching the tall grasses, setting them nodding. Eventually even that stilled. The air was cold and she pulled the coat collar tighter at her throat. Wearing her father's coat had been a wise move. Not only was it black compared to her lighter one, it was large enough to wear a heavy sweater underneath. She certainly needed it. The drawback was the larger neckline that allowed the cold to creep around her neck. She checked the sky again, still only the crescent moon riding high, being chased and overtaken by wispy clouds. The scene before her would lighten and darken as the clouds dictated. It could be worse. This was the second night she had sat here. Last night it had rained, all night, soaking her to the bone. The chances of them arriving had been small but what if they had come. She could not, would not take that chance.
Again she looked down the field that stretched out before her. She was sure it was at least as long as the one her father and his friends had talked about, the talk she was not supposed to have heard. It was men's business, business she best know nothing about. That was what her father had said when she offered to help. Maybe make some coffee and biscuits for them for later. Make biscuits, my foot! She was not some, … some little woman to be dismissed and sent to the kitchen. No, she had followed and listened. She was good at listening.
Oh Papa. A lump rose in her throat. All she could do was hope and pray he was all right. She silently snorted. It was like the priest had said. All people turned to god in times of trouble. Well her papa was in trouble. The German soldiers had come to the house and arrested her father and brother two nights ago. The other men he had met with had also been arrested. The Germans must have known. Did they have a spy? Maybe it was a good thing she had been excluded.
It was up to her now. There was no way she could take the chance that none of the men had talked, that no one had told of the drop that was to be made last night. She had let the cow loose as soon as her father had been taken. She did feel bad, the poor cow was old and so attached to her stall that she had had to chase the poor thing to get her to leave. One hour later she had gone looking, pretending she could not see the big boney shape on the other side of the barn, and ended up in the field where the drop was to be. She walked the length, calling the cows name and even stopped in the middle and cried and yelled for the cow to come home. If there had been soldiers there setting up an ambush, they had left her alone. The cow got an extra ration of corn that night.
There, off to the northwest, a sound. She waited, straining, then leapt to her feet. She ran to the pile of brush and grasses she had collected, splashed the petrol on it and struck the match. It broke. She scrambled for another and in her haste dropped the open packet on the ground spilling the contents. Frantically fumbling in the wet grass she found a few, got one in position and struck it. Nothing. Another was positioned and struck. The plane was getting closer. Yes, the match flared to life and she touched the grasses around the edges of the pile. It was started but she kept going lighting more. She could not take a chance that the wind might put it out. Suddenly with a whoosh the fuel caught and the flames jumped upward. She jumped back and turned to watch the sky. Would they see it? They had to see it. She watched, heart pounding as the single engine plane drew closer. She grabbed more branches and threw them on the pyre. "Please", she whispered.
The plane was nearing but it was too far north. They were aiming for the old drop site. "No", she breathed, "Over here, please, look over here." Irrational but she could not help it, she ran towards them waving her arm, tears in her eyes. She stopped, and still waving she jumped up and down. They had to see her, her fire, they had to come here. Suddenly she started laughing. The plane had cut its engines and banked sharply, in her direction. They saw! They saw her.
Running back to the fire she began throwing handfuls of dirt on the blaze and pulling some of the branches out of the fire. She had to put it out before the wrong people saw it. As she worked she kept an eye on the edges of the field where the Germans might come from as well as the sky. A large cloud obscured the moon sending the field into darkness as the last of the flames were extinguished. After fighting the flames she was now hot, tired and completely blind. Slowly her eyes adjusted as two, no three shapes appeared at the edge of the field. Who were they? She shrank back into the brush that surrounded the field to wait. The figures, four of them now, were hunched over and trotting in her direction. She shrunk back further in the brush. Who were they? Which side had gotten here first? Maybe she should run. If the Germans found her here, she would be executed as a spy. She waited.
Someone whistled. It had to be the Americans. That had to be their signal but she had not heard what she was to respond with. She did not even know their names. She was just about to call when she heard a voice mutter "Ruddy 'ell!" as one of the shapes lurched. That was a Englishman, not American. She was sure her father said there were meeting Americans. Now what? Americans were working with the Brits weren't they? She squeezed her fists. She had to do it, so taking a deep breath she whispered loudly, "American?"
The figures paused and then a voice queried, "Lionel?"
She rose slowly. "My father was captured. We must go quickly before the Germans get here." She turned and led the Americans into the woodlot.