The Hesitant Hero

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” he said in excellent French. “You are out shopping, I see.”

  “Why, yes, Officer, I am.”

  “My name is Lieutenant Fritz Kaltenbach. May I ask your name?”

  Jolie quickly glanced at the name of the store across the street and blurted out “Marie Thibeau” before she could give it a second thought. She didn’t know if giving a false name would prove to be necessary, but it seemed the smart thing to do.

  “Mademoiselle Thibeau, would you give me the honor of accompanying me into that café? You must let me buy you a drink.”

  “Oh, Lieutenant Kaltenbach, I couldn’t do that.”

  “Why, of course you could! I am instructing all my men to behave themselves, and you must give me an opportunity to demonstrate how that is done.”

  Jolie noticed that some of the soldiers had gathered not far away and were watching the exchange. One of them called out, “That’s the way, Lieutenant. Establish good relationships with the French.”

  Jolie couldn’t understand some of the comments, but she could tell by their tone of voice and gestures that they were ribald.

  “We must not pay attention to them,” Kaltenbach said. “Come along. You must permit me to buy you something refreshing.”

  Jolie could not think of a way to get out of the situation. She walked with him over to the café, which had tables outside. He pulled a chair out for her before seating himself. When a man came to take their order, the lieutenant asked for two glasses of their best wine.

  Kaltenbach turned out to be a charming man. If he had not been wearing a German uniform, Jolie would not have known he wasn’t French.

  “You speak French very well, Lieutenant,” she commented.

  “Ah, thank you. I went to school in Paris. I was a student at l’École des Beaux-Arts.”

  “You are an artist?”

  “That is yet to be decided. While I think so and my mother thinks so, some of the critics were not so kind as she. But one day I’ll go back and prove them wrong.”

  “Tell me about your painting.”

  He looked surprised. “You like painting, mademoiselle?”

  “Very much, although I’m not an artist myself.”

  Kaltenbach began to tell her about his art, and they drank the wine. He ordered more, but Jolie refused and smiled.

  Soon he began to get more personal. He leaned over and took her hand. “I must say I didn’t expect to find such a beautiful woman in this little town, as well as a lover of art. I’m sure we have much in common.”

  As he took her hand, Jolie noticed he was wearing a ring. “I see you have a wife.”

  “What?”

  “Your wedding ring,” she said, pointing at it. “What is her name, Lieutenant?”

  He reddened. “I’ve only been married a few months. I’m hardly used to being a husband.” He laughed self-consciously and took a hasty sip of his drink.

  “Do you have a picture of her?”

  “Why, yes, I do.” He fished his wallet out and handed a photograph to Jolie.

  “She’s very pretty, and she looks like a sweet-tempered young woman.”

  “She is. I was very lucky to get her.” He gazed at the photograph. “We’re expecting a baby in six months.”

  “Congratulations. And I hope that she will be as beautiful as her mother.”

  “Or if it’s a boy?”

  “Then as noble as his father.”

  Lieutenant Kaltenbach put his wallet away, then straightened up. “You are right to rebuke me, and you did it so tastefully. I’m ashamed of flirting.”

  “Tell me some more about your painting, Lieutenant, and about your marriage.”

  He described some of the paintings he had created while he had been in Paris but didn’t say much about his wife. He drank the last of his wine and then glanced at his watch. “I must be going. It has been such a pleasure.”

  “It has been very nice. Thank you for the wine. I wish you well, Lieutenant, and I hope that your wife and the child to come will be in good health.”

  “You are very kind. Very kind indeed,” he said as he helped pull her chair out. “Not all have greeted us so well.”

  “It’s a difficult time for us here, Lieutenant. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I know. But France will be much better under German rule.” He bowed stiffly and turned away. He began shouting commands and the soldiers quickly piled into the waiting trucks. When Lieutenant Kaltenbach got in beside his driver, he turned and looked at Jolie. He saluted her, and then the trucks moved out.

  As Jolie watched them go, she was thinking, He’s so nice, so polite. He doesn’t seem like a monster at all. I don’t understand the German people. She quickly walked out of town toward the place where she had left the others.

  When she got back, she found that Tyler was anxious.

  “You took a long time,” he said. “What kept you?”

  “I see you’ve started a fire. Let me warm up some of this milk for Marie and you can see what I’ve brought for all of you.”

  Tyler looked in the sack to find the fresh bread, cheese, and fruit and pulled out some of it and handed it to Rochelle to start cutting it up for their supper. He watched Jolie as she heated the milk and fixed a bottle for the baby. “You’re very good with children, Jolie, but then you’ve had lots of practice.”

  “Yes, I have. It will come in handy when I have my own children, I suppose. Say, speaking of children, where are the others?”

  “I told them they could go exploring if they stayed together and didn’t go very far. They’re right over there,” he said, pointing.

  She shaded her eyes and looked. “Okay, as long as we can see them.” She handed Marie to Rochelle and then turned back to Tyler. “The news isn’t good. The Germans are overrunning our country faster than anyone could suppose. A convoy of German soldiers arrived when I was in town.”

  “Yes, I saw them along the road. They gave me a scare. I’m glad we were well off the road and out of sight.”

  “A young officer stopped me. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two, I’d guess.”

  “Did he harm you?” Tyler demanded.

  “Oh no. He wanted me to have a drink with him, and I couldn’t see any way to get out of it, so we sat down at a table outside a café.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was very charming, actually. Spoke French perfectly, and he’s a painter like you.”

  “Is that what you talked about?”

  “He tried to flirt with me, but when I noticed his wedding ring, he actually blushed. He has a wife and a child on the way and was quite ashamed of himself. He told me so.”

  Tyler wanted to hear the whole story. When she told it, he finally said, “He doesn’t sound like a typical Nazi.”

  “You know, he really didn’t. He was very nice. If I had met him out of uniform, I would never have suspected what he was.” Her mind went back to the encounter, and her eyes reflected her thoughts. She looked down for a moment, then lifted her eyes to his. “He was a gentleman . . . not what I expected of a Nazi.”

  “They say even Hitler loves dogs, so I guess everybody has something good about them.”

  “I’ll never understand the Germans, Tyler. Their race has produced some of the greatest artists and scientists and philosophers in the world, yet they brought one terrible war into the world and now they’re beginning another. It’s like they’re two different breeds: the war makers and those men like Lieutenant Kaltenbach.”

  The two spoke for a time of the war, then Tyler said, “Someday this war will be over, but I think it’ll last for a long time.” He suddenly grinned and reached out to touch her cheek. “I’m not surprised the man flirted with you.”

  Jolie was aware of the warmth of his hand on her cheek. She wondered at her response, then drew back, saying hastily, “I’d better get started on supper. These children are always hungry.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
>
  Antoine

  Although Jolie had made it her business to see that they stayed on the back roads as much as possible, they still encountered scattered traffic. Most of the refugees fleeing from Paris used the main roads, but those who knew the countryside better took the less traveled ones. Every day they saw German planes, and twice they encountered men who had seen the Germans in force moving southward.

  They made little time and were anxious to be off the roads completely and concealed well before dark. Their food supply was adequate, and they stopped at farms occasionally to buy eggs and vegetables. Once Tyler mentioned that it might be possible that one of the farmers would betray them, but Jolie did not think it was likely. “They hate the Germans so much they wouldn’t betray their own people.”

  “Most of them would not, but there are Nazi sympathizers in France, and you can’t always know them.”

  “I suppose so—but I hate to think of that.”

  ****

  By the time they got to Chartres, their routine was well established. By this time the young people had become more accustomed to the dangers and hardships than the adults. While Jolie and Tyler were scanning the area and even the skies almost constantly, Rochelle, Damien, and Yolande seemed to be totally unaware of the dangers that could lie just around the turn in the road.

  The day after they passed by Chartres, Rochelle and Damien were walking alongside the wagon. Rochelle looked at Crazy and said, “That horse is the funniest-looking thing I’ve ever seen. He’s ridiculous, that one!”

  “He doesn’t even look like a horse, does he?” Damien agreed. “He looks like the quilt that Tyler said he reminded him of.”

  “But I sure am glad we have him. We’d have a hard time carrying all of our things.”

  The two walked on, and Damien picked up a rock and threw it at a rabbit that darted across the road. “I wish I could have hit him,” he said. “We could have made a stew out of him. That would have tasted good. Maybe I’ll see another one.”

  “Don’t be silly, Damien. You couldn’t hit a rabbit with a rock. Nobody could.”

  “I bet I could if he was close enough,” he argued.

  “You think you can do anything, and furthermore, you’d argue with a tree.”

  “Argue with a tree? Why would I want to do that?” He picked up another rock. “Girls say the silliest things.”

  The two wandered along, and finally Damien gave up throwing stones long enough to say, “When we get to America, I’m gonna become a race car driver.”

  “A race car driver? Why, you’ve never even seen a race.”

  “I don’t have to see one. I know what they’re like. You get in a car, and you go around in circles, and the one that comes in first wins. I know I can do it, and that’s what I’m going to be.”

  Rochelle smiled, for she was becoming accustomed to the boy’s fantasies. “I know what I’m going to do when we get there. I’m going to go to college and become a doctor like Mademoiselle Vernay.”

  “You mean and cut people open and things like that? I wouldn’t want to do that!”

  “There’s more to it than cutting people open, but I’d like to be able to help people. I talked to Jolie about it, and she said she’d help me.”

  The two continued to walk along sharing their dreams for a new world, but then Rochelle fell silent. She said nothing for so long that Damien finally gave her a curious look and asked, “What’s the matter with you?”

  “You’re not going to become a race car driver and I’m not going to become a doctor. It’s all nice to think about, but none of it’s going to happen.”

  “Sure it will!”

  “No it won’t. Things won’t turn out right. They never do.”

  Damien stared at her with disbelief. “I don’t know why you have to talk like that. It’ll turn out fine. We’ll have Monsieur Winslow and Mademoiselle Vernay to look after us.”

  “She’s not going to America, silly. Didn’t you hear what she said? She’s just going as far as the coast.”

  “Well, anyhow, Monsieur Winslow said he would give us to an orphanage.”

  “And you know what will happen? If we get adopted at all, it’ll be to three different families. We’ll lose each other.”

  Damien lifted his chin. “No, God’s going to make it come out all right.”

  “He won’t. I prayed to God,” Rochelle muttered, “but my mother died, and then I prayed again, and my father died too. I’m not sure I believe in God anymore.”

  “Why, you gotta believe in God, Rochelle!”

  “I’m just not so sure.”

  Damien was shocked by her statement and said no more, but he kept casting sidelong glances at her. Rochelle paid him no attention. She kept her head down now, paying no heed to the countryside or the clouds, and finally Damien muttered, “Well, I believe in God, and nothin’s gonna change my mind! And you better think so too!”

  ****

  They moved steadily ahead all day, and early in the afternoon they stopped just outside of a small village that Jolie identified as Bernay. As was now their routine, Damien and Rochelle gathered firewood, and Tyler made the fire while Jolie searched through their stores and made up a stew using a live chicken she had bought from a farmer that morning. She’d had to wring the chicken’s neck, and Yolande had watched with wide eyes.

  “I don’t like to see that. Do you have to do that?” she asked.

  “Yes, if you want anything to eat.”

  “We could eat bread, couldn’t we? You wouldn’t have to kill anything for that.”

  Tyler, who had been observing this, laughed. “I can see you’re going to be a vegetarian.”

  “No, I’m going to be an American. That’s not the same thing, is it?”

  “Not always,” Tyler said with a grin.

  Once the chicken was plucked and cut up and cooked with the vegetables, Yolande lost some of her squeamishness, deciding that chicken stew smelled awfully good to her. After they’d all had their fill, they sat around the fire talking, and then Yolande asked if Jolie would tell her a story. Jolie read a story about Moses from her Bible, and then she asked Rochelle to read from her Hebrew Bible.

  “I don’t want to,” Rochelle said.

  “She doesn’t believe in God anymore,” Damien piped up. “I told her that was dumb.”

  At once Jolie went over and sat down beside Rochelle. “What’s the matter, Rochelle?”

  “If God wanted to, He could have made my mama and my papa live, but He didn’t.”

  “That doesn’t mean He didn’t love them.”

  “How could He love them if He let them die?”

  “It’s hard for healthy people to understand that sometimes living is worse than dying.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “I know you don’t now, but you will when you’re a little older. When I worked in the hospital I saw some people who had a lot of pain. They couldn’t wait to get rid of it and go home to be with the Lord. It was a blessing for them to go.”

  “But my mama and papa weren’t sick.”

  “No, but God knows what’s ahead, and He might have looked ahead and seen that something very difficult was ahead of them, so He didn’t want them to go through that.”

  Tyler was only half listening when he thought he saw something move in a nearby bush. At first he assumed it was a squirrel, but he grew curious when he saw the movement again. He very quietly crept, inches at a time, closer to the bushes. Then with a sudden burst of speed he made a dive. He heard Jolie cry out but paid no heed.

  Jolie leaped to her feet, calling, “Children, get back here!” and gathered those she could reach close to her.

  But Damien did not obey. He ran to the bush but quickly stopped when Tyler emerged holding a boy tightly by the arm.

  “Let me go!” the boy cried in French.

  Tyler kept a firm grip on him. “Come over to the fire and let us get a look at you.”

  “I wasn’t doin’ nothing to yo
u!”

  Everyone was standing now, and they came over to look at the boy. He was thin but rather tall and had a mop of black hair and dark eyes. His clothes were ragged, and he stared around defiantly but said nothing.

  “What were you doing?” Tyler asked. “Were you spying on us?”

  Jolie moved closer. “You don’t have to be afraid. What’s your name?”

  The boy looked at her sullenly and then muttered, “Antoine Carrière.”

  “Why didn’t you let us know you were there? Are you hungry?” she asked.

  The boy named Antoine simply stared without speaking.

  “We’ve got plenty to eat. Here. Turn him loose, Tyler. Rochelle, get Antoine a bowl for some stew.”

  The boy’s eyes darted from person to person. When Tyler released him, however, he made no attempt to run away.

  Damien approached the boy. “My name’s Damien, and this is Rochelle and that’s Yolande. We’re orphans.”

  “I ain’t no orphan,” the boy said.

  “Where is your family, son?” Tyler asked.

  “They’re in England.”

  Rochelle handed him a bowl of stew and a chunk of bread. “Here, Antoine, you can have this.”

  He took the bowl and bread, but he looked doubtful and suspicious.

  “Come on and sit down,” Rochelle said.

  The boy finally sat down and began to eat ravenously.

  “You don’t have to choke yourself,” Rochelle told him. “You can have some more.”

  The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the tree leaves rustling overhead in the breeze. Antoine ate two bowls of the stew and then begrudgingly said, “That was good.”

  “Why are you all alone, Antoine?” Jolie asked gently. “How old are you? Where are your parents?” She could hardly stop the questions from coming.

  “I’m thirteen. My ma and pa went to England two months ago and left me with my uncle and aunt. My ma’s parents live in London, and we’re gonna move there. They wanted to go alone first so they could find a place to live. They was gonna come back and get me, but then the war got worse.”