The Hesitant Hero

by Gilbert, Morris

Marvel had followed Tyler and Jolie outside, her face fixed in a set mold. She spoke cheerfully enough, but it was obvious that she was worried.

  Jolie embraced her mother. “I should be back sometime tomorrow. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I won’t. You’ll be all right.”

  Marvel made sure the children weren’t watching and then opened her handbag and pulled out a pistol. “I want you to take this,” she said as she pressed it into Tyler’s hand.

  “But, Maman, we can’t take that,” Jolie insisted. “You may need it here.”

  “I will feel better if you have it. Besides, you know it makes me nervous just to have it in the house.”

  “All right, Maman, if you’re sure.”

  Marvel reached up and pulled Tyler’s head down, kissing him on both cheeks.

  “I don’t know how to thank you for all your hospitality,” he said.

  “Don’t be foolish. After this war is over you must come back. By that time you will probably be a famous painter, but come anyway.”

  Tyler was touched. “I will, Marvel. And I’ll write you as soon as I get to England.”

  They put their suitcases into the car and squeezed in with the children. Jolie had packed one suitcase for the girls, along with a change of clothes for herself, and Tyler had packed his things with Damien’s. Tyler had decided there was no use in trying to tote along all of his belongings. He would have enough to deal with without having to keep track of too much luggage.

  As the car pulled away, Tyler looked back to see Marvel standing in front of the house. She did not wave but stood very straight. “That’s a fine mother you’ve got there. You’re very fortunate.”

  “Yes, I am,” Jolie said. She adjusted Yolande’s position in her lap. “What is your mother like?”

  “She’s like yours—very strong. She’s the best there is . . . and so is my father. I never appreciated them before . . . but I’m starting to now.”

  When they got to the station, they had just enough time to buy their tickets before the train arrived. They boarded at once and got settled in their car. The only other people in the car were a middle-aged couple who both looked sad. Jolie settled Damien and Yolande on each side of her, while Tyler sat beside Rochelle.

  “Do you feel better, Rochelle?”

  “Yes, I think I’m getting better,” she said. She did not look well, however, and Tyler fervently hoped that she would not get any sicker on the journey.

  “You’re taking your family out of France?”

  The man, who had been seated a couple of seats away, had come down the aisle to talk to him.

  “Well, yes, I am.” He did not think it necessary to go into a long explanation about his companions.

  The man’s wife joined him in the aisle. “You have beautiful children,” she said as she looked from one to the next.

  “We’re not his children,” Yolande said firmly, “but he’s a nice man anyway.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman said.

  “We are leaving France, however,” Tyler said.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” the man responded.

  The train started with a slight jerk and after it had picked up speed, Tyler said, “Have you heard any news about the war today?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. The Germans have crossed the Seine to the north of Paris.”

  “That’s not what we wanted to hear,” Tyler said quietly.

  “Everything about this war has been bad for France.” The man fell silent and with a sigh, the two made their way back to their seats.

  ****

  As the train passed through the countryside, it became obvious each time they passed a road that traffic was heavy. Much of it was composed of military vehicles, including trucks and even a few tanks, moving toward Paris. As was the case the last time he had been on the train, there were many cars going south out of Paris.

  Before long Damien and Yolande became bored, so Jolie opened the small satchel she had brought. She took out paper and pencils and began to entertain them by drawing funny faces. She allowed them to draw too, and after a while the two younger children started playing ticktacktoe.

  It didn’t take too long to reach Vichy, where they needed to change trains. As the war went on, the train schedules grew increasingly erratic, and while getting from Ambert to Paris used to be easy, it was now more complicated.

  When the train stopped, Tyler picked up Yolande, who had gone to sleep in Jolie’s lap, while Jolie retrieved their luggage. Tyler found a bench where he and the children could sit while Jolie checked on the train schedule.

  She returned quickly. “It will be two hours at least. It is late.”

  “I expect then that we might as well go find a restaurant and get a good meal.” Jolie and Damien each grabbed a suitcase and the group started down the street. “So much for my careful planning.”

  It was only a small village, and there was only one restaurant. They went inside and woke Yolande up. She was cross, but when they ordered food and it came, she became quite cheerful. Rochelle ate little, although Jolie urged her, and finally when they left, there was nothing to do but go back to the station.

  It was over an hour before the train pulled in, and as soon as it did, Tyler felt his heart sink. The train was loaded with soldiers, and though it did slow down, it didn’t stop as it passed the station. Tyler left the children with Jolie while he went to consult with the stationmaster. He soon returned, shaking his head. “The army has commandeered the train. We’ll have to wait for the next one.”

  “When will that be?” Jolie asked.

  “Not until tomorrow morning.” They had no choice but to find a place to stay. They were able to secure two rooms in an ancient inn close to the station. As a matter of fact, the place had almost no guests. Jolie talked with the owner, a sad-faced man who said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen. Everybody’s leaving town. My business is ruined.”

  Jolie tried to offer him words of assurance, but he didn’t appear to have much hope.

  Jolie settled into a plain room with the two girls, and Tyler took Damien with him. The two went to bed early, and then Damien kept up a spirited conversation for nearly an hour. Tyler was weary, but he answered the boy’s questions and did his part as long as he could. When Damien finally drifted off, Tyler’s mind was still buzzing. What if the train doesn’t get here in the morning? He was not accustomed to having this kind of responsibility and it troubled him. He finally managed to get to sleep, and before he knew it, Damien was nudging his shoulder.

  “It’s time to get up. The sun’s up.”

  After the two washed up and got dressed, they repacked their bags and went down to the lobby. Jolie and the girls were already there, waiting in some uncomfortable-looking chairs.

  “Good morning, everybody. You’re looking much brighter this morning, Rochelle. How are you feeling?”

  “So much better,” Rochelle told him. “I slept like a rock.”

  “We all did,” Jolie said as she stood up. “I think we’d better stop at the grocery store before we go to the train station. There’s no telling what will be open on the rest of the trip.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Tyler agreed. “Let’s go find some grub,” he said, using the English word for grub.

  “What’s grub?” Damien demanded.

  “It’s food.”

  “Why’d you call it grub?”

  “It’s an American word, buddy. Come on. Let’s go.” They went to the store that they had noticed the night before and bought a good supply of bread and nuts and fruit. When they went outside, the streets were full of tanks and trucks and French soldiers marching right up the middle of the street.

  “It looks like they’re all headed for the battle,” Jolie said.

  “I expect so.”

  “Look at that one.” She was pointing at a group of passing soldiers.

  “Which one?” Tyler asked.

  “Right there. Why, he can’t be over fifte
en years old. What a terrible thing.”

  “War is always terrible. You know, that boy reminds me of something. The first time I was ever really aware of what war was, I was looking at a picture book about the American Civil War. Do you know about that?”

  “I’ve read about it. A terrible war. Brother fighting against brother.”

  “Yes, that’s right. Well, this book had pictures of the soldiers, and one was a full-page photo of a young boy wearing a Confederate uniform. He couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen. He had the most vulnerable look I had ever seen. The caption said he was killed at a battle called Malvern Hill, and it scared me pretty bad.”

  “But it all happened a long time ago.”

  “I know, but suddenly it was just like I was there watching him go off to war. I could practically see his mother holding him and kissing him good-bye, telling him to take care of himself, and his brothers and sisters saying good-bye. And then he marched off to war and was killed almost at once. I thought, what if I had been that boy? And ever since then every time I think of a war I think of him.”

  I’ve never seen him like this before, Jolie thought. It’s nice to see that he actually has some sensitivity. She stood beside him silently as he looked sadly at the soldiers passing them.

  “I still remember his name. Private Edwin Jennison, killed at the Battle of Malvern Hill.”

  “You still remember that?”

  “You know how some things are burned into your memory? I can see that picture even now. He was sitting there in his gray uniform with his brass buttons, his arms folded on his lap, staring straight into the camera. How many days was it after that photo was taken that he was lying dead on a hill?”

  “Did he go to heaven?”

  Startled by the question, Tyler looked down at Yolande, who had been listening to all this. Her blond hair was blowing in the light breeze, and there was sadness in her eyes. “I expect he did, Yolande.”

  “That’s good. I want to go to heaven when I die.”

  “So do I,” Damien said. “I’m going too,” he said determinedly.

  “I don’t think the archangel Gabriel could keep you out, Damien Rivard.” Tyler smiled and looked at Jolie. “Funny things stay in our minds, don’t they?”

  “You’re the one with funny things in your mind,” Rochelle put in.

  “Come on,” Jolie told the group. “Let’s head over to the train station. The train should be pulling in before long.”

  They were just getting settled on a bench when they heard the whistle.

  “There comes the train,” Jolie said. “I hope we can get on it this time.”

  As the first cars of the train passed the platform, they could see there were some soldiers aboard, but there appeared to be plenty of room for civilians. The group boarded and got settled, and a few minutes later they were on their way.

  “How long will it take to get where we’re going?” Rochelle asked quietly.

  “I don’t know,” Tyler said. “It shouldn’t take too long, though.” He said this with as much assurance as he could, but as the scenery flashed by outside the window, he wondered if he was telling the truth.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Everybody Off”

  Tyler and Damien played every game Tyler could think of on the short trip from Vichy to Varennes. The boy’s attention span wasn’t as long as Tyler would have hoped.

  “Why are we stopping here?” Damien asked.

  “To let people off or take on more passengers, I suppose,” Tyler told him.

  But the train stayed still for several minutes, and Tyler didn’t see anyone getting off or on. A man burst through the door, calling, “Everybody off. This train will not go any farther.”

  “Not go any farther! But it’s supposed to go to Paris!”

  “Everybody off,” the man called again.

  “What a mess!” Tyler groaned. “What do we do now?”

  “We’ll have to get off,” Jolie said matter-of-factly.

  They gathered their things and got off with everyone else. They soon learned the military had commandeered the train. It was being routed elsewhere.

  “But how can we get to Paris?” Tyler asked the ticket agent.

  “You could go to Moulins. A train from Italy headed for Paris will go through there later today.”

  “But how will we get there?”

  “I do not know, sir.”

  Tyler was angry and started to argue, but Jolie took his arm. “Come on, Tyler.”

  “Moulins. I wonder how far that is,” Tyler said as the train pulled away from the station.

  “It’s not all that far, but it’s certainly too far to walk,” Jolie told him.

  “Look,” he said abruptly, “you stay here with the kids. I’ll go try to find someone who can take us there. A taxi, a car, something.”

  “All right, Tyler.”

  At once he began his search. As he left, Rochelle whispered, “Are the Germans going to get us, Mademoiselle Jolie?”

  “Certainly not. You’ll soon be in England, far away from here.”

  “I wish you’d come with us,” she said. “I’m afraid to go.”

  “Monsieur Winslow will take care of you. You like him, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but . . . I’d just feel better if you were with us.”

  Jolie hugged the girl tightly. “It’s going to be all right. You’ll see.”

  ****

  Tyler checked with people in several businesses but had no success until he saw a car repair shop. He found a middle-aged man there smoking a pipe and working on a car. His hands were greasy, and he did not greet Tyler.

  “My name is Winslow. I’m sorry I don’t speak better French, but I’m in a bit of trouble.”

  “We’re all in a bit of trouble. My name is Rousseau.”

  “Monsieur Rousseau, I am trying to get to Le Havre with three children and a young lady, but I understand I have to get to Moulins to catch a train there. I’ve been trying to hire somebody to drive us there.”

  “We have no taxis here. This town is too small.”

  Tyler looked at the two cars parked outside the shop. “Would it be possible to hire you to take us? I’ll pay you for your time.”

  “These people. Are they your family?”

  “No, the children are orphans and the young lady is a physician. We’re trying to get the children out of the country.”

  “I’m not a taxi service.”

  Tyler argued as eloquently as he could, but Rousseau was adamant and seemed almost angry. Finally he demanded, “Who are these three children? Why would you be taking them out of the country? We can’t all of us be rich and take our children out of the way of the Boche.”

  “As I said, they are orphans, but they are Jewish. You know what the Germans will do to them if they don’t get away.”

  Rousseau fell silent. He looked down at the wrench in his hand and began tapping it in his palm. “Jewish?” he murmured.

  “Yes. All three of them.”

  “I had a brother who married a Jewish woman, a Pole. He moved with her to Poland. When the Germans invaded the country, they took his wife and his little boy. When he fought to keep his family, they killed him. I don’t know what happened to his wife and baby.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Tyler said and started to walk away.

  Rousseau tossed the wrench down, took the rag out of his back pocket, and began wiping his hands. “All right. I will take you to Moulins.”

  “I appreciate it. We’ll pay you for your time and gas.”

  “I do not do it for money,” he said. “And I will take a gun. If I see one of those filthy Germans, I will shoot him!”

  Fervently Tyler hoped they wouldn’t see any Germans. They went out and got in the car.

  “Where are they?” Rousseau asked.

  “At the station.”

  Rousseau drove to the station, and Tyler jumped out. “We’re in luck,” he told Jolie as she approached him. “This man i
s going to take us to Moulins.” Tyler got the suitcases and the children followed him to the car.

  “This is Monsieur Rousseau,” Tyler introduced them as the man opened the trunk. “Monsieur Rousseau, this is Dr. Vernay.”

  “We are so thankful that you’re going to help us,” Jolie said. “I was getting worried.”

  “It is nothing.” They put the two suitcases in the trunk and climbed into the car. Tyler sat in the front with Yolande on his lap and Damien between him and Rousseau.

  As they drove out of town, the man began to talk about himself. “I was in the last war,” he started.

  “You don’t look that old.”

  “I was only fifteen. I was in for the whole time.”

  “That was a horrible war,” Tyler said over the roar of the noisy engine.

  “All wars are horrible.”

  “Did you kill many Germans, Monsieur Rousseau?” Damien piped up.

  Rousseau did not answer at once, and finally he stole a glance from the road to look at the boy. “Yes,” he said, “and they tried to kill me.”

  Damien began to ask specific questions about how Rousseau had killed the Germans, but Rousseau shook his head and would not answer. Instead he turned his attention to Jolie. “You are a doctor, I understand?”

  “Almost. I have some more training to do.”

  “Where do you live?”

  When she told him Ambert, he said, “I have a sister who lives in your village—Yvette Villon. Her husband is Gaston. Do you know them?”

  “Why, yes. Quite well. We attend the same church.”

  “Then you know their boy, Pierre. He’s a good boy. He’ll be joining the army next month.”

  “Perhaps the whole conflict will be over soon.”

  “No, I’m afraid it will be a long while before it’s over.”

  “Where did you say you’re going?” Monsieur Rousseau asked.

  “We’re going to Paris, and then from there it should be easy for us to get to Le Havre.”

  Rousseau shook his head. “Me, I do not think so.”

  “You think the Germans have already taken Paris?”

  They passed a sign announcing they were entering Moulins, and Rousseau pulled up at the train station.

  “It could be. If I were you, I would not go there.”