Chapter Five: The War Is Over For You

June 1, 1940

It had felt like an eternity, being underground. They had both drifted off to a much needed sleep for a time. But they woke up to the sound of the barn being ruthlessly searched. They had waited in frightened silence, each praying with all their might not to be found.

The barn was searched twice, from what Louis and Peter could tell. Both would go as still as stone. They waited to move until they were absolutely sure no one was there. Sometimes they thought a soldier might have lingered in the barn, and was waiting for them to make a mistake. After the first time the barn was searched, neither could go back to sleep. They feared relaxing too much, lest their presence be noticed. Finally, after spending twelve hours in the barn, Valère came back from them early in the morning on June 1.

Peter and Louis squinted as Valère shone a lantern down into their little hole.

"Venez," he said. Louis went out first, followed by Peter. He stood up straight and arched his back, groaning as it cracked.

"Damn, I don't believe I've ever sat that long before," said Peter.

"Shh," warned Valère. "Ils sont pas allés pourtant."

Louis nodded and whispered the translation back to Peter. "Les Boches are not gone yet."

Peter nodded, with a little grin towards the old man. "So where to now?"

Louis looked back at Valère and asked Peter's question in French. The old man answered back, and Louis did not look satisfied. This started off some heated talking in frantic French whispers. Peter grew disinterested and looked away. He went to the door and curiously peered through a knot hole. It was still dark outside, and he could see the town's lights in the distance. All seemed quiet. Peter looked back at Louis and Valère, who were still arguing. Peter looked back out, and gasped when he saw figures moving out of the tall grass fields and to the barn quickly. He could see that they were holding guns as well. He turned around and grabbed Louis by the arm, and pulled him into a stall. He clamped a hand over Louis's mouth to quiet the protests, and they sunk back into the corner just as they heard the barn door bursting open.

Valère had been startled by Peter's actions, but when the door burst open he tensed and tried to act as normal as possible. The intruders closed the door quickly and turned onto the old man. But Valère smiled and relaxed. He looked at Peter and Louis, and beckoned for them to come out.

Louis pushed Peter off of him. The Englishman threw him a nasty glare, but they walked out of the stall civilly. Louis nearly yelped out of happiness.

"Michel," he exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "You made it!"

Michel, Bernard, and Gregoir were standing right inside the barn, breathing heavily but looking relieved. They smiled when they saw Louis.

"Oui," said Michel. "By the hair of our skins. It is good to see you as well. I see our friend is awake."

They looked at Peter, who was cautiously standing beside the stall, as if ready to dive back in if necessary.

"Oui," replied Louis. He continued on in English for Peter's sake. "'Is name is Peter Newkirk. Peter, these are the Resistance fighters I was with when we found you."

Peter nodded and held out his hand. "Thanks, I suppose."

Michel shook Peter's hand with a warm smile. "Our pleasure. Now, we just need to get you two to the coast, so that you can escape."

"I thought you were going back to your village," said Louis.

"We were," replied Bernard. "But us sulking around in that direction will make the Nazis suspicious. We were cut off anyway. We'll bring you to the coast, and then turn back when things have settled down. It would not be odd then to explain that we were cut off by the battles from returning home after a trip to the coast to visit some family."

"Conveinent," said Peter.

"Exactly," said Bernard.

Gregoir was rather peeved that the conversation was going on in English and that he could not understand. He tapped Bernard on the shoulder. "Parlez français. I do not care about him. I care about me."

Michel started to reprimand Gregoir, but Louis stepped up quickly and pushed Gregoir back. He quickly reprimanded him in their native tongue. "I am tired of your prejudice. He is a soldier just like me. He volunteered and is fighting in this war to help our country. And one day he will come back and liberate France. So you treat him just as well as you would treat any soldier and ally of France. Understand?"

"Oui," answered Gregoir. "I understand perfectly."

Louis looked back at Peter, who was looking around to everyone with a confused expression. "I'm sorry. But I'm lost. Mind tellin' me wot's goin' on?"

Louis put on a quick, casual smile. "Do not worry. We were just deciding when to move out."

"Now," said Michel. "The Nazis stopped most of the patrols for the night. We can go now, and hopefully cover some good ground before daybreak. I have directions of where to go next. We can only travel by dark now, though."

"Then let us 'urry," said Louis. "Pierre and I are ready."

"Pierre?" Peter narrowed his eyes at Louis. "Who are you callin' Pierre? I ain't no Frog."

Louis rolled his eyes. "Never mind. Michel?"

"We are ready," said Michel.

Valère nodded and they moved to the other side of the barn. He opened the door quietly and peered out. He then motioned for them to go.

"Bonne chance," Peter heard Valère say. Peter turned around and smiled at the old man before hurrying to catch up with the others.

()()()()()()

June 2, 1940

It was early morning, and the sun's rays were now bright enough to give sly movements away. So Michel, Bernard, Gregoir, Louis and Peter were forced to bed down in a bakery. Michel, Bernard, and Gregoir were allowed to stay up in the house, acting as family, because they were not in uniform. But Peter and Louis were forced down into the basement and out of sight. The town they had crept into had already been occupied, but the rumor was that it was one of the last. They had heard that Dunkirk, a coastal town was under siege, and that the Allies were escaping from there on ships from Britain. The news was heartening to Louis and Peter, knowing that somehow their countrymen had been able to hold out and that there was a definite way to get across the English Channel and out of the clutch of the Nazis.

Plans were made that as soon as night fell, they would work hard to cover the ground overnight. Peter and Louis just hoped that everything went perfectly. Peter was sure he would go crazy if he did not get back to England soon. He knew Mavis must be worried sick about him, and he hoped he could get back just to let others know what had happened, especially to the other men in his crew. He would have been listed MIA by now, meaning that everyone thought he was dead. Peter knew that would hurt Mavis. They were all one another had left.

Louis was also worried about his family. They would, like so many others, be listening for news everyday about the battles. He had never been able to write them, because there had not been a spare moment since he had arrived at the fight. He only hoped that when the fate of France was sealed, they were not harmed. So far, he had seen no reason that his family would be harmed as long as they did not resist the occupation outwardly. Louis hoped that whatever path his family took, they would be so very careful. He wanted to free France and return to his family to find everyone safe and sound.

These hopes and prayers were mostly what kept the two trapped soldiers on the move. They had something to look forward to: Peter to Mavis, and Louis to his family. To Peter the fight was no longer distant. The war was there, and he knew it could spread to Britain. Now, he knew exactly why he was fighting.

It was mid-day when Michel hurried down to warn Peter and Louis that Nazis were nearby. They each went to their pre-planned hiding spots. Louis crammed himself inside a potato barrel, while Newkirk slipped behind a shelf. They went silent again. They could hear nothing above.

Then, they heard the basement door open and heavy boots hit the steps coming down. The Nazis moved around slowly, poking around here and there looking for anything peculiar. But it was a quick search. Soon enough, they heard the heavy boots going back up and the basement door closing again.

Out of caution, Peter and Louis waited to come out until they were sure no one was there. Louis came out first, pushing the lid of the barrel off his head. But when he stood up, he found himself looking into the barrel of a rifle. Louis froze, and slowly looked up, his eyes coming to meet that of a Wehrmacht soldier.

"Stehen Sie auf," he ordered. He motioned with his rifle for Louis to stand up. Louis complied, standing straight in the potato barrel. He raised his hands tentatively over his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the soldier's. The Nazi appeared about to holler for his comrades, when suddenly there as a hand over his mouth.

Louis watched as Peter knocked the rifle out of the soldier's hands, and with a quick motion, slit his throat. Peter backed up, letting the soldier topple to the floor. Louis looked away from the heavy blood.

Peter was having his own reactions himself. He had never killed a man like that before. It was one thing up in the air, shooting at machines that were shooting back at you. But to take a life right there with his own hands, and then to witness the life seep away…that was very different. Peter looked away for a moment, but then told himself he had done what needed to be done. That man, he told himself, might have hurt my country in the future. He needed to be killed.

"What now," asked Louis. "They will come looking for 'im."

"Let's pray they don't," said Peter. He dragged the body away from the potato barrel, and slid it under the stairs. He kicked the basement dirt around to smother the blood as best as he could. "Get back in the barrel."

Louis crouched back down, and fitted the lid over his head again. Peter got behind the shelf again. It was not long before they heard the door open again.

"Görg? Sind Sie hier unten?"

They heard at least one man coming down the stairs.

"Görg?"

When there was no answer, the other soldier went back up. Peter and Louis both breathed in relief. But it was not to be. They heard a call for more men, and then more footsteps hurdle down into the basement. It was only mere seconds until the body had been found.

Peter gripped his knife tightly. He heard the Nazis beginning to tear the basement apart. The shelf shifted some, and then Peter was suddenly face to face with a Wehrmacht soldier.

"Hier!"

Peter slashed at the soldier, and caught him across the cheek. There was not enough room for the Nazi to wield his rifle, but his bayonet was sufficient enough. He stabbed at Peter, who had limited room to move. The bayonet bit into his side some, but not deep. He punched the Nazi, and pushed him away, desperate for more mobility. But when he pushed the Nazi out, there were suddenly two more there. They each grabbed him and yanked him out from behind the shelf. He was forced to the ground, and disarmed quickly. Looking up, he saw that there was at least an entire platoon in the basement. Every single soldier had his rifle trained on Peter.

Peter cursed, and was rewarded with a kick in the shin by one of the soldiers. They searched him again, and after satisfied that he was unarmed, they pulled him to his feet. He was marched out from the basement. Upstairs, he saw Michel, Bernard, Gregoir, and baker all standing on the wall in the kitchen. They were not exactly guarded by the Nazis, but they understood that they were being watched. When they saw Peter, they tried to keep unreadable expressions.

Suddenly, the baker stepped forward, shouting angrily and pointing at Peter accusingly. He was talking directly to one Wehrmacht soldier, a young Lieutenant. The Lieutenant appeared to understand him. When the baker was finished with his rant, the Lieutenant turned to Peter.

"The baker says that he never knew you were down there," said the Lieutenant with only a hint of an accent. "Is this true?"

"Yes," answered Peter without hesitation. He knew full well that if the baker was found guilty of aiding him, he would be shot for treason. "I was shot down not far from 'ere an' was makin' me way back. But I was 'ungry, so I snuck in town last night, an' was 'idin' in 'is basement to get some food an' rest."

"You are alone," asked the Lieutenant.

"Yes," answered Peter again.

"You have gotten no aid from any French civilians," asked the Lieutenant persistently.

"No. You think I trust the French? I'm English." Peter gave a small smile.

The Lieutenant returned it coldly. "Unfortunately, I do not trust the French or the English. You—or someone in this building—killed one of my men just a few minutes ago." He looked to his men and ordered another thorough search of the basement and house.

Meanwhile, Peter was handcuffed behind his back and searched once more. When he protested some, one of the soldiers knocked him across the cheek. He fell silent and held his breath while the search went on. It was not too much longer before a triumphant shout was heard from the basement. Peter's heart fell to his stomach. Sure enough, Louis was brought up the stairs, sporting a swelling eye, and looking ferocious. But when the little Frenchman saw Michel and the others lined up, his face fell.

The Lieutenant, however, smiled. He looked back at the baker. "You cannot say that you were not aiding a Frenchman, because I would never believe it," he said in French. "Would you, if you were in my position?"

The baker, knowing he was in for it, did not bite back a word. "I would never be in your position, you filthy scum."

The Lieutenant did not bat an eye. "Get them outside," he ordered his men. "We will make an example of them."

Though the Lieutenant had said this in German, and no one knew exactly what had been said, the accused had heard the finality in his tone. They knew that this was it. Michel, Bernard, Gregoir, and the baker were now certain to be shot for hiding the soldiers, no matter where they were from. And Peter and Louis, dawned in uniform, were not quite sure what their fate was. What they were sure of, however, was that dreams of getting across the Channel to freedom were now gone. As they were led outside, where they saw swastikas hanging on every corner, accompanied by alert Wehrmacht soldiers, they knew that to get free again, they would need a miracle.

The Lieutenant walked behind them, eyeing them as a proud conqueror would eye his newly acquired slaves. Peter and Louis looked back at him as they were forced down the street.

"Eyes ahead," he said. "Your fate is now mine, and I assure you that the war is over for you."