Occupied France 1943
Chief wrenched the steering wheel suddenly to turn down a gravel road. The car slewed wildly, and there was a sharp protest from Casino in the back seat.
"Jeez, take it easy, will ya!" Both Garrison and Actor were wounded, and he and Goniff were desperately trying to staunch the bleeding.
Chief ignored him. The Krauts were not far behind them, giving chase. His job right now was to get away. Worry about them later. Damn, there was a trail of dust spewing behind the car, not good. He slowed down only a little and took a right turn directly into the orchard that flanked both sides of the road. The ground was packed down between the trees, grass and low weeds keeping the dust to a minimum. He tried to keep to the center, avoiding most of the branches. A few tree roots made the going rough, but not much worse than a cobblestone street. He guessed they had gone a klick from the gravel road, better make a turn. Right towards the main road, or left towards the river? Towards the road, he decided, the Krauts wouldn't be expecting them to backtrack. He slowed down again, took another turn deeper into the trees, and finally brought the vehicle to a halt.
He held up a hand to stifle Casino's next remark. He could hear no sounds other than the wind in the trees. Good, the Krauts were far off their trail. He turned around.
"How are they?"
"Still unconscious, no thanks to your driving." Casino snarled, then took a breath to stifle his panic. "I think we can stop Actor's bleeding again, but the Warden's lost a lot of blood. His breathing don't sound so good neither. We need to find him some help, fast."
Goniff had already tightened the tourniquet around Actor's thigh, and was watching the leg wound closely. Casino shifted his position to put more pressure on the soaked cloths on both sides of Garrison's chest.
"What are we gonna do? Where the hell are we?"
Chief had already turned his eyes to their surroundings. "Gotta be a farmhouse somewhere. See how there's hardly any fruit on these trees, or on the ground neither. Someone's workin' this land, so I better go find 'em." He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Casino. "Keep him warm."
Chief took off at a run, back towards the gravel road. He hadn't seen a house for a few miles along the main road, so maybe the orchard's owner was up that way. Then he heard the faint sound of a car approaching, and threw himself to the ground behind a tree. The Krauts were turning back already. A dog barked in the distance; he fixed the direction in his head and went that way. Deeper into the orchard, but towards the river.
Suddenly, a pack of barking dogs materialized before him. Chief froze and tried to speak soothingly. "Easy now, boys, don't mean no harm." The dogs kept their distance, and kept their eyes on him. No teeth, but one of them barked again. He heard some footsteps approaching, stayed where he was, and slowly raised his arms out to the side at waist level. Not threatening, but ready. He was glad he was in civilian clothes.
A man stepped out from the trees behind the dogs. He was stocky and dark-haired. And unarmed. "Qui vient?"
Chief desperately tried to remember some of the French they'd been coached in. "Je ne parle pas français. M'aidez. Mes amies son….My friends are hurt and we need some help."
The man frowned and moved forward. The dogs stayed behind him. "Little English. Men hurt? How? Who?"
Chief sensed there were a couple of other men back in the trees. He decided to take a chance. Not that many collaborators outside of the cities. He lowered his arms and tried to speak slowly. "We're running from the Germans. My friends were shot, they're bleedin' bad, bleeding. We're Americans, Allies."
"Sprichst du Deutsch?" the man asked sharply.
"Nein Deutsch."Chief knew his accent was bad enough he might believed . "American. English. Allies."
The man looked closely at Chief. "Si tut Rom?"
Chief shook his head; he didn't understand . "Aidez, s'il vous plaît?"
The man gave a signal with his hand, and two men stepped out from under the trees. They were both pointing rifles at him. The first man spoke to them, "Bish-lo pushka" and they shouldered their rifles.
Then he turned to Chief and held out his hand. "I am Simzo. "
"My name is Chief. " He shook the hand gratefully.
Simzo waved his hand. "Za! Go."
Chief led them as fast as he dared back to the others. They were pretty quiet behind him, and the dogs didn't follow. As they approached the car, he called out to let the Gorillas know it was him. He hoped Actor or Garrison was conscious and able to talk to the three strangers.
Goniff and Casino looked up hopefully.
"Warden's pretty bad," said Casino. "These guys gonna help us?"
"I think so," answered Chief, as Simzo peered into the back seat. It was pretty bloody, and the Warden was very pale. Actor was stirring, but not really awake. "We gotta trust them."
Simzo spoke to the others in that strange language. One of the men stepped back, while two climbed into the front seat and looked at Chief. He jumped behind the steering wheel and started the engine. He followed their hand signals through the orchard, then stopped the car when the man put a hand on his arm. Simzo whistled sharply, then motioned him to continue.
Soon he could spot an encampment ahead. Wagons, horses, the dogs, and a group of people. Women and kids as well as men. The women wore brightly-colored long skirts and shawls, and some of the wagons were painted.
"Gypsies!" Goniff exclaimed. "I think we're in luck, mates. " He leaned to the men in front. "Travelers? Romani?"
Simzo nodded. "Yes, Romani. We help."
Chief parked where indicated, and the three Gorillas exchanged relieved looks. Gypsies were hunted by the Germans too, just like Jews and other sub-humans. They were safe for a while, at least.
Simzo called out some orders. Men came running, and helped them ease Garrison and Actor out of the back seat. Some women walked to a wagon, opened the back door and waited by the steps. Chief tried to follow the others, but the Gypsy man stopped him.
"Go to Bishidka. English he speak."`
Chief didn't want to play leader, but he guessed he was stuck with it for now. He followed Simzo to a campfire further down the row, where an old man sat in a wooden chair. He was wearing a rumpled three-piece suit and a tweed cap. The other Gypsy men, seated on the ground or in chairs, were mostly in wide trousers and vests, a few with ties or scarves around their necks.
Simzo spoke to him in the Gypsy language, and the old man nodded.
"I am Bishidka. We will help your friends. You are running from the Germans?"
Chief nodded. "We're Allied special forces, uh, commandos. We came in to steal some German papers, but they caught us leaving. We lost them back there, off the main road."
The old man grinned. "We hide from the Germans, too." He pulled a plug of tobacco from his pocket and offered it out. Chief shook his head, politely he hoped.
"Simzo thinks maybe you have Romani blood."
"No sir," Chief shook his head again. With his dark hair and eyes, he'd heard that one before.
The old man looked closely at him. "Maybe you are gaje, but not quite a white man, eh?"
He shrugged. "I'm an Indian. Red man."
"John Wayne! Shoot um up!"
"Yeah, but on the other side." So American movies had even reached the Gypsies?
The old man slapped his knee and laughed. Chief found himself grinning back. Yeah, they were both on the other side of the law, in more ways than the Gypsies knew.
GGGGGGGGGGGGGG
Casino and Goniff had been politely but firmly ushered out of the wagon as soon as they had laid the wounded men down on the beds. The old woman had even kicked them off the steps when she came out, and shooed them further away as she came back with a small bundle.
"Think they know what they're doin'?" Casino asked again.
Goniff was worried too. "Better nor us. Gypsies must get shot sometimes, bein' how they lives on the gray side of the line. And some of the Travelers up in England peddle medicine. Maybe the old lady got some special 'erbs and things."
They sat glumly against the wheels of the next wagon. Some young boys had gathered, watching them from a respectful distance. Their clothes were a little shabby, but they were no dirtier than kids that age oughta be, thought Casino. Strange to think that Gypsies still lived out on the road in this day and age.
Women were gathered around several campfires some distance from them. Occasionally one of them lifted the lids of the pots and stirred the contents. There was a faintly familiar smell wafting in their direction. Goniff wondered what it could be. He hoped it was dinner.
They saw Chief and Simzo walking in their direction and stood up. The man nodded at Chief and left him to join his friends.
Chief asked, "Are they gonna be all right? What's goin' on in there?"
"Dunno much. They got two women and a couple of men in there. The old dame brought in some medicine, we think. They kicked us out and ain't said anything. " Casino replied. "Where did that guy take you? Do you think we can trust them?"
"I think we have to," Chief said slowly. "He took me to an old man who speaks English. Don't know if he's their chief or what, but he said they'd help us. They're hidin' from the Krauts, too."
"Well, that's some good news," Goniff said hopefully.
They waited in silence for an hour or more. Finally, the wagon door opened, and the two women came out. The old one pointed at the door, so they leaped up the stairs. It was dim inside, but they could see Actor was sitting up, while Garrison lay under a pile of blankets. Two men were sitting relaxed on stools in the back.
"How's the Warden?" they asked almost simultaneously.
Actor's voice sounded weak but steady. "He had a collapsed lung, but Luludja managed to re-inflate it. The bullet went through the lung, so they were able to remove it easily enough, but he's lost quite an amount of blood."
"Does she know what's she's doing?" Casino asked sharply. "I think we need to get to him a real doctor." He added politely, "You too."
Actor smiled at the palpable afterthought. "My wound has also been neatly stitched up. Luludja seems most competent. She has treated us both with herbal remedies, which we must trust to be helpful. She does think it will be best for Garrison to remain quiet for several days." He added, "I believe we have been offered shelter here. The Romani are often willing to help those on the run from legal authority. We may owe them a debt for this, but we are safe in the meantime."
Chief nodded. "Yeah, seems so. Their leaders said they'd help us, and I think we gotta trust them. Don't have much choice."
Goniff was watching Garrison's chest rise and fall slowly. He spoke up uneasily. "Collapsed lung. 'Ow did she fix that? Will it stay fixed?"
"Why, she blew it up with a straw," Actor replied. "Similar to blowing up a balloon. Most efficacious."
Goniff felt queasy at the thought. Now he was glad they'd been hustled outside to wait.
The door opened again, and the old woman motioned them out. The two Gypsy men went outside too, and the woman climbed in with two steaming glasses. Medicine or tea, wondered Goniff. He could use a cuppa himself.
They were led to a campfire on the other side of the small clearing, where a number of men were seated in chairs or cross-legged on the ground. They were politely offered chairs, but Chief decided to sit on the ground. Now that Actor was up, he didn't want to act like a leader no more.
One of the men poured coffee for them, and the Gorillas accepted the cups gratefully. It had been a long day. The Gypsies greeted them gravely in their own language, at least they thought that's what the nods meant. Several men had pipes in their pockets or hatbands, so Goniff and Casino offered cigarettes all around. The sun was going down and maybe they could relax a little now.
Goniff brightened as several women approached them with plates in each hand. He smiled at the young woman who laid a plate at his side, but she looked the other way. They were each served quietly, and the women retreated to their own campfire. The thick reddish stew smelled delicious. He just hoped it wasn't anything worse than rabbit, maybe. He took a cautious spoonful and grinned. Chicken!