There are author's notes at the end of this one—a little bit of explanation and several translation notes since French and German are spoken (written) here. I didn't bother with translations when I felt the meaning could be understood in the context. But there are a few that I thought needed clarification. Also, while I did study German many years ago, it has been decades since I used it and as for French, never learned. Consequently, I depended on online translators for the text. Just trying to make it feel a bit more authentic.


Anthony's dreams that night were more akin to night terrors. He thrashed around in his bed for some time before the images in his dreams became too much and he woke, screaming and yelling, "stop… I can't…. stop… no, I won't let you…. NOOOOOooooooooooo!" As he woke an image of a terrified young woman, one who looked amazingly like his sweet Edith, was fading from his mind. His door burst open as Malcolm and Felix rushed in. "Sir Anthony?" Malcolm kneeled nest to his bed as Felis stood at the foot, both looking quite concerned and somewhat sleepy.

"I…I'm sorry to … to have disturbed you," Anthony muttered, his head still clearing from his dreams. Looking past the two young men, he saw a worried Mrs. Brown, Henry, and Elizabeth standing in the hall peering in.

"But you're alright?" Felix asked.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine… just… I was dreaming and…" Anthony's explanation faded as his eyes flickered from one worried face to another.

"You were dreaming about the war, weren't you?" Henry asked from the doorway. Antony nodded an acceptance of his statement and Henry sighed. "I told Dr. Rivers I thought today was a bad idea. I knew this would happen," he said angrily.

"No, no," Anthony replied. "No, I think… well, perhaps today might have stirred a memory. I can't be certain, but as I was waking, I remembered a face."

"Who was it?" asked Felix.

"It… she resembled my wife. But it wasn't her… not quite. But she was terrified. And…" he frowned as he tried to bring back the face in the dream. "And there were others… Boche. They…. They were threatening her… and me." He frowned again and shook his head as if to make the memory become clearer. "There were four… no, five of them. One was holding me by the arms and two held her. "Tu es… tu es," one kept yelling. He furrowed his brow and focused his eyes in a piercing stare as he struggled to bring forth the memory. "Tun Sie es, oder wir tun es und schneiden sie dann Stück für Stück in Stücke. Tu es!" *1

Everyone just stared at him. Finally, after a minute or two, Henry asked quietly, "What was it that he was telling you to do?"

Anthony blinked as he looked up at Henry, his eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. "I don't know... I... sense that it was... I think they wanted me to hurt the woman... but I don't know." He did not want to reveal what it was he was being told to do by the Boche. It certainly wasn't something he would speak of in front of a woman and a child. No, it was something he would never speak of, except perhaps to Dr. Rivers.

Mrs. Brown spoke up. "I think that's probably enough for Sir Anthony. Everyone needs to go back to bed. Unless you'd like a cuppa to calm down with, Sir Anthony?"

"Thank you, but no," he replied. "I do appreciate everyone's concern for me but I think perhaps Mrs. Brown is correct. We should all try to get some sleep."

Malcolm shot him an worried glance as he stood to leave. The others slowly drifted away until only Felix was left standing in the doorway. "If you need anything, sir…"

"Yes, thank you Felix. You're just in the next room. I think I'll be alright now, but thank you."

Felix nodded sadly and slowly closed the door behind him leaving Anthony alone with his memory fragment. The face of the Fritz came into focus in his mind. He had a square jaw with angular features and prominent cheekbones with stark blue eyes set over a large nose. His dark blonde hair was close cropped and for an instant Anthony thought he resembled any number of his distant German cousins.

He tried to make his mind see the others but they were mostly blurs of blonde or light brown headed younger men. The one face he could remember was obviously the one in charge. And of course, there was the young woman who was being threatened. Making his mind focus on her, he realized that her hair was darker than Edith's, more brown without the hint of ginger that graced Edith's head. Her nose was a bit of a button nose and her eyes were light, perhaps green in color. But the general shape of her face did resemble Edith. Her fear was very easy to see in her expression. But that's all he could remember –Fritz shouting at him and her fear as she said over and over, "Non, s'il vous plaît, non..." Non, s'il vous plaît, non... Non, s'il vous plaît, non...

Anthony sat on the edge of his bed for the rest of the night trying to recall more details of his dream. Slowly the images began to transform from the hazy images of his dream to more tangible ones of memory. That's it, he thought as he focused on the pictures his mind was revealing. I'm remembering this; it happened.

The soldiers had captured him hiding in the barn on a French farm not far from the fighting. He'd spent the night creeping around the German lines hoping to pick up information on the plans for the next day. Not long before dawn he'd headed back toward British lines and upon hearing trucks on the road had scurried into the barn for a hiding place. The trucks moved on and Anthony was contemplating his next move. He hadn't really gained much information for the day but he had heard a discussion about the overall plan. Should he stay out and try again tonight to get more immediate plans or should he return with what he knew?

Suddenly, the barn door opened and a young woman entered. He tried to stay hidden in a far corner behind some farm implements but the girl was searching for something and apparently it was in his corner. He heard her gasp when she spotted him. He stood but remained in place. "S'il te" plaît, n'aie pas peur de moi. " *2

The girl stared at him nervously. "Vous êtes anglais ?"

"Oui, j'essaie de revenir à mes lignes. Je me suis arrêté pour me reposer." *3 He watched the girl closely. Germans were still close and if she ran screaming from the barn it would end in disaster.

She backed away but did not run. "Avez-vous besoin d'eau ? Notre puits est extérieur." The last thing Anthony wanted was her bringing him water and possibly alerting the Germans to his presence. "Non."

Just then, they heard movement outside. Anthony shrunk back into the shadows, once again hiding behind the implements. The girl picked up a pitchfork and just as the door opened again, she turned to Anthony, pointing the pitchfork at him. " Lève-toi. Tu n'as rien à faire ici. Sors d'ici!" *4 Anthony hoped that she could convince the Germans that she had not sheltered him.

The girl was attempting to save herself. "Was haben wir hier" shouted one of the Germans, the one from his dream. The girl waved the pitchfork, pointing it at Anthony, almost hitting him with it. "Sortie!"

Anthony stepped out from his corner, raising his hands as he did. He looked from the girl to the man who seemed to be in charge, "I surrender, Gefreiter."

Chaos broke out. The gefreiter was yelling at the girl and at Anthony, one of his men was yelling, and the girl was screaming. Anthony stood absolutely still, fearing for the girl and himself. He watched the gerfreiter closely. The man's expression was changing from questioning to annoyance to menacing. Waving his pistol at the girl, he ordered her to stand next to Anthony.

Looking at Anthony, he barked, "Sie hat dir geholfen?" Anthony pretended to struggle in his understanding of what he was being asked. "What? I don't understand…"

Gerfreiter glared at him. "She…. Friend?"

"No. Not at all. I was resting and she found me. Was waving that bloody pitchfork at me when you came." He feared what they would do to the girl if they thought she was helping him.

"Name? Ihr Name?"

"My name? Oh… Strallan, Anthony Strallan."

"Ihre Einheit? Welche Armee?"

Anthony did a mental scramble. He'd be shot immediately if he were to say he was in the intelligence corps. He needed to tell the man something but he didn't want to give away any information about units in the area. So, casting his mind around for answers, he replied. "Erm… British Army. I'm with the North Yorkshire Grenadiers under Sir John Burgoyne." As far as he knew, there was no such unit and Burgoyne dated back to Crimea. He was satisfied that he'd given away any useful information.

Gerfreiter turned to the girl and asked her name. "Marguerite… Marguerite Dugas."
"Nun Marguerite, ist das dein Freund?" He glanced from her to Anthony.

"No, Il se cachait. Je lui ai dit d'y aller." *5 She looked at Anthony fearfully as she spoke. It was obvious that she did not consider him a friend and wished he'd never been there.

That was when it happened, the events from his dream and Anthony faced with a horrible choice. If he abused the girl as the gerfreiter ordered, the Germans might kill her anyway. If he refused…

As he hesitated, the gerfreiter leaned in. "Sie wollte dich mit der Heugabel erschlagen. Willst du sie nicht bezahlen lassen?" Anthony groaned. The bastard thought he should abuse the girl because she'd threatened him. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine a way to make it look like he was… doing what was ordered without really doing it. He'd couldn't. "No, no, I can't," he muttered.

The gerfreiter snorted a laugh. "Du Englisch. Immer ein Gentleman, auch wenn das bedeutet, dass die Frau mehr leiden wird. Es ist in Ordnung. Wir werden sie trotzdem haben. Vielleicht nicht das Bajonett; hängt davon ab, wie gut sie ist." *6

Anthony felt the grip of the man holding him loosen when he heard that the gerfreiter planned for them to have the girl under any circumstances. A glance toward the girl told him that her captor was equally distracted. Adding to the distraction was the sound of someone outside.

"Marguerite? Où es-tu ? Marguerite?" The man's voice sounded older, perhaps her father?

All heads turned toward the sound, except Anthony's. Twisting in his captor's arms, he sent his elbow back into the man's face, knocking him back and forcing him to release Anthony. Moving swiftly, he grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her towards the door, running past the others. Outside, he released the girl as he yelled, "Courir!" She ran straight to her surprised grandfather, who wrapped his arms around the girl and then turning, pushed her towards the house. It was a mistake, Anthony knew, but there was no time to tell them anything. The sounds of running feet behind them alerted him to the recovery by the Germans.

"Stopp! Halt! Hör auf, oder wir schießen!"

Anthony did his best to put himself between the Germans and the girl as he ran in their direction. The old man was slow and Anthony caught up to them quickly. "Traversez la maison et continuez. Quoi qu'il arrive, continuez," *7 he told them as he huffed from the running. The old man nodded that he understood.

Satisfied that they might get away if he could delay the Germans behind them, Anthony slowed his pace. "Halt!" called the gerfreiter.

Anthony kept jogging. To his chagrin he saw the girl turn and un back towards him. She was just in front of him when the first shot rang out. He heard it whiz by his right ear. Grabbing the girl, he commanded, "courir!" But the girl seemed determined to not leave him.

Another shot rang out. Anthony felt it tear through his shoulder and then heard another shot that caught his lower leg. As he went down, he heard another and saw the girl fall to the ground, a bullet through her head. The old man fell just as Anthony blacked out.

Anthony sat on his bed shaking. The memory explained the injury to his shoulder and the scar on his leg. But as horrible as it was, he couldn't believe that event alone was the reason for his loss of memory. He was so tired though. Thinking it through any longer would be useless, he knew. He also knew that sleep would not come to him again that night. Moving across the room to his chest, he picked up his stack of letters from Edith and settling down again on his bed, he began to read through them, her words giving him comfort that he knew he would not find anywhere else.


Author's notes:

A gerfreiter was a German rank, something akin to a PVC in the American army. However, after looking into it a little deeper, the responsibilities for that rank in WWI were more like a Lance Corporal. He would have had charge of a small squad, hence the one here is ordering the men with him around.

*1 Do it! Do it or we will cut her into pieces, one by one. Do it!

*2 Please don't be afraid of me.

*3 Yes. I'm trying to get back to my lines. I stopped to rest.

*4 Get up! You have nothing to do here! Get out!

*5 No, he was hiding I told him to go.

*6 You English. Aways the gentleman, even if it means the woman will suffer more. It's okay. We'll still have her. Maybe not the bayonet; depends on how good she is.

*7 Go through the house and continue. Whatever happens, keep going.