French. One of the men, presumably his father, ordered him to be quiet and gave him some kind of instructions. Nick fervently wished that he had paid better attention in Madame Duris’ French class. The two men unrolled a blanket and gently lifted Nick onto it like a stretcher. He was deeply grateful since the idea of walking seemed completely beyond him. As they lifted him up Nick could see the charred carcass of the airplane. The nose of the plane was buried in the field and the broken tail hung limply in the air at an odd angle swinging gently in the morning breeze. He thought he could detect Roger slumped against the dashboard, but it was probably just his imagination. The body of the plane was badly burned and Roger would have been burned beyond recognition. The men carried Nick away towards the woods, while the boy tried to eradicate all traces of Nick’s presence in the dirt by dragging his feet over the flattened spot and then pissing on it to disguise the smell that might be picked up by dogs.
The walk seemed to last forever with every step causing fresh waves of pain. Nick tried to breathe deeply and count under his breath to calm himself down. By the time they reached the stone cottage he had lost count and was gritting his teeth until his jaw felt like it would break. The woman said nothing, just pulled aside a colorful rug in the middle of the room and pulled up the trap door. The thought of being lowered into that black hole made Nick’s heart pound with panic, but he closed his eyes and let the men maneuver him as they descended down the ladder into the cellar. He must have passed out for a few moments because the next thing he saw was a roughhewn stone wall next to the narrow cot they laid him on. One of the men had gone and the other one sat on an overturned crate next to the cot.
The man was middle aged with dark hair generously peppered with grey and a neat beard. His dark eyes watched Nick with obvious unease.
“You are awake,” he stated unnecessarily. “My name is Jean Lavelle and this is my house. My brother, Marcel went to fetch the doctor. They will be back soon.” He paused, giving Nick an opportunity to introduce himself.
“Lieutenant Nicholas McGuire.” Nick wasn’t going to volunteer any information. He had no idea if these people could be trusted.
“I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, Nicholas, but your presence here puts us in grave danger. We would have been better off leaving you where we found you. The village is under German occupation and Colonel Schneider, who is in command here, is a very dogged and dutiful individual. He is not as cruel and unreasonable as some, but we try to keep a low profile. A few months ago the Nazis found a crash site by a village outside of Tours. The officer in charge lined all the inhabitants and threated to shoot one every ten minutes until the pilot was turned over. By the time they shot the third person, the pilot turned himself in. From what we heard, he was tortured to death by the Gestapo. It took him five days to die.”
Jean was interrupted by the opening of the trap door in the adjacent space and a pair of legs in tweed trousers began to descend the ladder. Nick saw the boy’s anxious face peering into the cellar before he was shooed away and the door closed again. The new arrival introduced himself as Dr. Attal and ordered Jean to cut away Nick’s uniform with a pair of huge scissors. Protesting would have been useless, so Nick pulled out a snapshot of Lily from his breast pocket and submitted to being undressed. Jean took away his butchered uniform to be disposed of. Once he was left in his shorts and undershirt, the doctor proceeded with his examination. He began by listening to Nick’s chest and then gently prodded his sides and abdomen. The pain on his left side left him breathless. The doctor examined his legs and then sat down on the crate vacated by Lavelle in order to address Nick. Jean, who had returned
The walk seemed to last forever with every step causing fresh waves of pain. Nick tried to breathe deeply and count under his breath to calm himself down. By the time they reached the stone cottage he had lost count and was gritting his teeth until his jaw felt like it would break. The woman said nothing, just pulled aside a colorful rug in the middle of the room and pulled up the trap door. The thought of being lowered into that black hole made Nick’s heart pound with panic, but he closed his eyes and let the men maneuver him as they descended down the ladder into the cellar. He must have passed out for a few moments because the next thing he saw was a roughhewn stone wall next to the narrow cot they laid him on. One of the men had gone and the other one sat on an overturned crate next to the cot.
The man was middle aged with dark hair generously peppered with grey and a neat beard. His dark eyes watched Nick with obvious unease.
“You are awake,” he stated unnecessarily. “My name is Jean Lavelle and this is my house. My brother, Marcel went to fetch the doctor. They will be back soon.” He paused, giving Nick an opportunity to introduce himself.
“Lieutenant Nicholas McGuire.” Nick wasn’t going to volunteer any information. He had no idea if these people could be trusted.
“I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, Nicholas, but your presence here puts us in grave danger. We would have been better off leaving you where we found you. The village is under German occupation and Colonel Schneider, who is in command here, is a very dogged and dutiful individual. He is not as cruel and unreasonable as some, but we try to keep a low profile. A few months ago the Nazis found a crash site by a village outside of Tours. The officer in charge lined all the inhabitants and threated to shoot one every ten minutes until the pilot was turned over. By the time they shot the third person, the pilot turned himself in. From what we heard, he was tortured to death by the Gestapo. It took him five days to die.”
Jean was interrupted by the opening of the trap door in the adjacent space and a pair of legs in tweed trousers began to descend the ladder. Nick saw the boy’s anxious face peering into the cellar before he was shooed away and the door closed again. The new arrival introduced himself as Dr. Attal and ordered Jean to cut away Nick’s uniform with a pair of huge scissors. Protesting would have been useless, so Nick pulled out a snapshot of Lily from his breast pocket and submitted to being undressed. Jean took away his butchered uniform to be disposed of. Once he was left in his shorts and undershirt, the doctor proceeded with his examination. He began by listening to Nick’s chest and then gently prodded his sides and abdomen. The pain on his left side left him breathless. The doctor examined his legs and then sat down on the crate vacated by Lavelle in order to address Nick. Jean, who had returned
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