When he hit the ground, Josh bent his knees and rolled over on his side to soften the impact. For a moment he thought he’d twisted his ankle, but as he scrambled to his feet there was no lingering pain. He quickly took off the harness and gathered the parachute. He could smell the burning plane and saw billows of smoke rising from beyond the trees adjacent to the wheat field.

Josh looked around and saw another wooded area on the other side of the field, away from the wreckage of his plane. He thought the Germans would go to the plane first before they’d come after him. If he ran in the wrong direction, he could be face-to-face with them, and he’d be an easy target. He decided to run toward the woods on the opposite side of the field.

As he entered the woods, he could hear the faint sound of voices from across the open field. Quickly he ducked behind a fallen tree and saw half a dozen German soldiers running into the field. Josh buried his parachute under the tree and threw a blanket of leaves over it. He took short deep breaths to calm his nerves. He was alone, without a gun, in enemy territory. The war he saw from the air was now right in front of him.

There were times when he wanted to be like his father. He wanted to be a soldier. He wanted to see the eyes of the enemy he’d sworn to defeat. But for one blinding moment, as he watched the Germans roaming through the field, looking for clues, looking for the American…Josh wondered what he would do if he had a gun…if he came face to face with another young man, who happened to be German. Kill or be killed. It always sounded so simple, so profound, and yet so terrible and God-forsaken.

In the center of the field the Germans stopped, pointing their rifles in different directions, swiveling their heads, their eyes hidden in the shadow of their helmets pulled down across their foreheads.

One of the soldiers, somewhat taller than the others, shouted orders to the other five men. Two of the soldiers ran off across the field toward a narrow dirt road and two others sprinted away in the opposite direction, where another wider road bordered the field.

Josh watched the soldiers intently, as the taller German signaled to the last remaining soldier and they started running toward the wooded area where Josh lay hidden.

Josh jumped to his feet and ran as fast as he could through the woods, darting between the trees. He ran until he thought his lungs would burst, until the German voices had faded away. At last he came out of the woods and found himself in a small clearing, surrounded by neatly trimmed dark green hedgerows that were five or six feet tall. There were dairy cows grazing in the clearing. Josh ran past them and leaped over the hedgerow, catching his arm on one of the sharp branches. He landed face down on his stomach. For a few moments he lay gasping for breath, listening for German voices. When the only sound he heard was the mooing of the cows he felt a moment of relief, a moment of triumph. They may have given up, he thought. They may be looking in a different area or they’ve been called back to their headquarters. For the moment he felt safe.

Josh rolled over on his back and looked up at the sky. There were no clouds, and there were no planes. The sky was calm, dead calm. Josh thought about his squadron, hoping they made it back safely to the base.

Josh put his hands over his face and closed his eyes. He said a prayer for his fellow pilots. Then he stood up, and as he turned away from the hedgerow he saw a small farmhouse about two hundred yards away. There was a small barn near the farmhouse, and a corral adjacent to the barn. Beside the corral was a small chicken coop. On the other side of the farmhouse he could see a field flanked by hedgerows, and a road that ran alongside the hedgerows. More cows were grazing in the field, as well as a handful of beef cattle. In a separate area between the hedgerows a dozen sheep were grazing in a small fold. It was an idyllic looking place, tucked away in a small valley.

Josh walked slowly toward the farmhouse. At first, he saw no one, but then, as he passed by the barn, he heard someone singing. It was a young woman’s voice. He stopped, and before he could decide whether to hide, or where, a girl appeared, walking slowly out of the barn, singing in French, carrying a basket filled with milk bottles.

When she saw Josh, she froze. She stopped singing as her hand went to her mouth and the milk bottles fell to the ground. She started to scream, but Josh held up a hand to stop her.

“It’s all right!” he shouted. “American! I’m American!”

He started to walk toward her. He thought she would walk away from him, but she didn’t. He came closer and stopped ten feet away from her.

“Do you speak English?” He spoke softly, worried that he would still frighten her.

“A little.” Her accented voice was calm, as if he had somehow reassured her that he meant no harm.

“The Germans shot down my plane.” Josh pointed toward a hill that rose up from beyond the sheepfold. “I have to head north, back to our troops. I’m sorry I startled you.” Josh looked down at the milk bottles scattered on the ground near her feet. “Let me help you with that.”

He walked over to her. The girl took a few steps back as he approached. Josh knelt to the ground and picked up the milk bottles. He placed them in the basket. The girl reached out and took the basket from him. For a few moments they looked at each other in silence.

The girl was young, about the same age as Josh. She was dressed for the farm, in a plain white blouse, blue jeans, and a pair of high rubber boots. She had long black hair, draped naturally over her shoulders, and a sweet, rather innocent looking face, highlighted by a pair of small, apple red dimples that filled her cheeks. Her lips were full, and parted, revealing the whisper of a smile, and her eyes were extra-large, dark brown, and incredibly calm. They remained fixed on Josh, waiting for him to continue.

“Are you alone here?” he asked.

A shadow of suspicion crossed the girl’s face.

“There are German soldiers in the area. Are you safe here?”

“My father is away. He will come soon.” She pointed to his arm. “What happened?”

Josh turned his left arm over and saw blood coming from a gash near the elbow. “I must have caught my arm on the hedgerow when I jumped over.”

“I have something in the house. Come.”

He quickly followed the girl away from the barn, across a grassy area and into the small house. It was a tiny, A-frame house. The walls were made of stone, the floor was made of oak. In the front room stood a wood-burning fireplace, a tall stone chimney, and a solid oak table near an old cast-iron stove.

“Please, sit here,” said the girl, gesturing to a wicker chair near the table.

Josh took a seat. The girl put her milk basket on the table and hurried into an adjacent room. Moments later she appeared carrying a large ball of cotton, a bandage, and a small bottle of mercurochrome. She sat down beside Josh and stretched his wounded arm across the table toward her, exposing the gash.

He observed her closely as she dipped the cotton ball in mercurochrome and washed the bloodied area. It stung a bit, but Josh hardly felt it, as he wondered what would happen to them if the Germans found him. They would almost certainly kill him, and probably kill the girl for harboring him. He had to move on.

She applied the bandage to his arm and he immediately got up from the table. “Thanks, but I have to go. I have to find the American troops up North. We sent a huge force over here today to liberate your country.”

Josh started toward the front door, but then he stopped and turned to the girl. “What’s your name?”

“Christine.”

“Thank you, Christine. My name is Josh.”

The girl’s face suddenly went cold. “Wait!”

The girl ran to the window near the door. “What is it?” he asked, but then he heard the voices…German voices.

Josh went to the half-open window and stood beside the girl. He saw the taller German and the other soldier walking toward the barn, talking to each other, gesturing with their rifles. The tall German looked briefly in the barn, then pointed toward the house.

The girl closed the window and looked at Josh, her face red with fear. “Quick! You must hide!”

Josh glanced around the room. “Where?”

“Come with me!” The girl took his hand and they ran across the room and through a doorway into a small bedroom. There was a large, wide bed in the center of the room and a tall armoire in the corner. Another door lead to the outside.

Josh ran to the door and yanked it open. One of the Germans was coming around the side of the house. Josh closed the door and locked it.

“No! Over here!” screamed the girl, pointing to a small recessed area behind the armoire.

“What about you?”

“If I hide, they will break in and find us both. I can tell them I have not seen you.”

Josh wedged himself in behind the armoire and pulled it closer to him. The girl ran out of the room as the German pounded on the back door and jiggled the locked door handle. She quickly put away the left-over bandages, cotton and mercurochrome. Moments later she heard pounding on the front door, and the soldiers began shouting in German. The girl composed herself for a moment, then walked to the door and opened it.

The soldiers pointed their rifles at her. The taller German said, “Sprechen sie Deutsche?”

The girl shook her head. The other bullet-headed German grinned at

her. “Eine schoene frau. What is your name?”

She hesitated. “Camille.”

“You speak English?” asked the taller German in a thick, guttural

accent.

The girl shook her head. “Only a little.”

The taller German gestured with his rifle for the girl to stand aside. “No,” she said, bracing herself against the door frame. He pushed her aside and they went in the house. “The American pilot…you saw him?”

“Pilot? No.”

From behind the armoire Josh could barely hear. He thought about dashing out the back door, but he was almost certain the Germans would hear him; and he couldn’t bring himself to leave the girl.

“He escaped from his plane near here,” continued the taller German. “You saw no one?”

“No…no one,” replied the girl.

“You are alone here?” he asked in a harsh tone.

“My father will come.”

“And who is your father? A poor farmer?”

The other German walked toward the bedroom. The taller one followed. “Wait!” shouted the girl.

The soldiers stopped and turned toward her. “Yes, I did see someone. He was running along the road near the hedgerow. But I could not tell if he was American.”

The taller German walked toward the window and looked across the hedgerow at the road beyond. “You saw someone there?”

“Yes,” replied the girl, her voice firm, confident. “What are going to do if you find him?”

“Kill him!”

The girl held her breath as the soldiers went into the bedroom. She watched the bullet-headed German look under the bed as the taller German leaned against the armoire. Through a crack between the wall and the back of the armoire Josh caught a glimpse of the initials GR tattooed above the elbow on the German’s right arm.

“Klaus, come on,” he said. “We better go along that road and look for him.”

The other German turned his bullet-headed, cruel looking face toward his comrade. “Kleinschmidt, you trust this girl? I think we better be certain she is telling the truth.”

“I have no reason to lie! I hate this war, and all who fight against each other! Germans…Americans…I hate you all for killing…for murdering…! Leave me alone!”

The girl quickly walked out of the bedroom. The two soldiers followed her. In the front room the bullet-headed German turned to the girl. “Fraulein, you have Jewish blood in you?”

The girl shivered with fear. “No.”

“Are you certain?”

“Klaus, let it be,” said the taller German.

“You have too much Slavic blood in you, Kleinschmidt. It makes you soft. We pure Germans have a different view.”

“I know how to find out if you are telling the truth…if you have Jewish blood.” He leaned his rifle against the table and started to undo his pants. The girl stepped back against the table. The German grabbed her and tore her blouse. She slapped him, then he slapped her back and threw her onto the table.

Josh heard her scream; he pushed aside the armoire and ran across the room. Near the doorway he stopped as he heard –

“Klaus! Enough!” The taller German went to the table and pulled the other one away from the girl. “This is no good…we have to go after the American. Besides, she is no Jew. She is wearing the cross.”

The other German took notice of the wooden cross around the girl’s neck. He zipped his pants and took his rifle. The girl lay sobbing on the table. The German spat at her and she screamed “Get out!!” The soldiers then turned away and left the house.

Josh ran out of the bedroom and went to the girl. She sat sobbing in a chair at the table. He knelt beside her and brought her to him. “It’s all right. They went away.” He wiped away the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry for what happened. You are a very brave girl.”

She turned to him with tears in her eyes. “Please go…”

“I can’t leave you here alone. What if the Germans come back?”

“You must go. I will be all right. My father will come.”

Josh helped her up and they stood facing each other. She put one arm over her torn blouse to hide her embarrassment.

“You can’t stay here alone, Christine. What if the Germans come back before your father comes? Please…let me stay here for a while.”