Word Weld

By the time we were nearing the town, it was beginning to be nightfall. We had walked long and I was beginning to feel uncomfortable with Captain Stewart. He spoke little, but he stared at me, and when I looked over at him, he would only smile. I must have looked very dire, for every time this happened I killed his smile quite handily, and he walked along sullenly until I would look back again, and he would be staring at me again, and the process would continue. I wanted to ask him why he insisted on staring at me when I wasn’t looking, but I was still afraid of him. Even if I was unable to die, I didn’t want to be hurt or tortured or misused, and as it was I was alone with this man and I didn’t have a weapon or some way to defend myself. I was already confident that, even with my boots on, he could still outrun me in the snow. I was simply not that fast, and he had probably been trained to run.

Now the house we were going to was just outside a little town called Eppenbrunn, which sat along the French border. As in all towns in Germany, there was a garrison there, small as the town was. While there was a little more safety in France, the border was still guarded, and without proper papers it would be difficult to cross. I hoped very much that the papers we had would be enough, for I had never seen them used successfully, because I had never tried to cross the border with them. Others had, though, so I comforted myself with that.

As we came into the town, we saw German soldiers amble by slowly. There was some light traffic and people walking in the town. The location of the town made it not as heavily populated by soldiers, but I was taking no chances, and we avoided any contact whatsoever with Nazis. The Captain did a marvelous job of looking quite common and unconcerned to the soldiers, even though he did not speak German.

“Where are we going?” he hissed at me as we made our way down the street.

“Shhh!” I replied. “This is Germany. No one speaks English here. There is a house on the other side of town where they are sympathetic to us. But we should wait until dark to see them, when it will be harder for anyone to recognize me.”

“I was being quiet, tuts!” the Captain retorted. “And if you’re so scared even to whisper, you could teach me a few words of German.”

“You would never master the accent, and there is too little time.”

Perhaps I was cruel, but he still watched me and I still felt uncomfortable with him. At least if he needed me he wouldn’t try to hurt me.

“Where should we go to wait?” he asked presently.

I pointed to a small restaurant, one of only a few in the town. After we had been seated and ordered something, I looked out the window. We were sitting further back, for I did not wish to be recognized by anyone, friend or foe, through the windows. Who knows but the soldiers that killed my family might not be stationed here?

“You’re making me nervous,” the Captain whispered.

“I’m making you nervous?” I replied very quietly, then said something in German a little louder. “You’re the one who keeps talking to me in English. Don’t you know any German?”

“Not much,” he shrugged.

“Then I shall have to teach you,” I sighed, muttering things in German afterward.

“What did you just say?” suddenly the man asked.

“I said the weather just keeps getting colder around here.”

With some effort, he began to repeat what I had said in German. Actually, he got a lot of it right.

“It’s all wrong,” I shook my head. “Your accents are in the wrong places and you aren’t forming the diphthongs correctly.”

“My whats are in the who?” he frowned.

“Never mind,” I said, then repeated the phrase with the proper pronunciation. We said it a few times until it sounded excellent. Then I told him, “It will have to do.”

“Teach me how to say some other common stuff.”

“No, not here,” I leaned forward, my eyes on the window. There were soldiers outside, talking to one another.

“Who would recognize you here?” the Captain frowned.

“Soldiers,” I said darkly, “or perhaps one of the people we used to deal with. If any one of them recognized me, they would know I’m dead, and they might give themselves away, or me.”

“I think they wouldn’t suddenly jump up and down screaming just because they saw you…”

“I must be careful if I’m to get through and find Gabriela. I have to.”

“You know, you could say ‘we’ or ‘us’ every so often,” he looked offended. “I’m in this too and I’m trying to help you!”

“Shhh!” I said, though he was not being loud. I just knew he was right.

“Look, if you don’t need my help, then I’ll leave.”

I turned on him brutally, “Don’t be absurd. You know as well as I do there’s no way you could last for a day on your own in the middle of Nazi Europe. You’d be in a POW camp before you knew it, waiting around for the war to end or for the Nazis to shoot you. Without me you’re as good as dead.”

There was a moment of silence, until he leaned back and said, “Well, you’re as good as dead too, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You think you’re going to get anywhere without help? What happens when the Nazis find you, anyway? What happens when they find out you came back to life? They’ll experiment on you. And you’ll wish you could die, I’ll bet.”

“Shut up!” I said, much too loud. An older couple glanced over in our direction. I wondered if they knew I had spoken English. “This is too dangerous,” I said softly, “there’s no way we can avoid being captured like this. We have to leave now.”

“Then–” he started.

“Shhh,” I put my finger to my lips. “When they bring the food I will take it to go.”

The young man who waited on us looked us both over closely and stared at me more than I cared for, perhaps he had seen me once before. Still, after we had the food we left the establishment without incident. The soldiers, fortunately, were further down the street by now, but were moving slowly. We went the other direction.

Captain Stewart was very quiet now and was obviously unhappy with me. I felt guilty already for being so callus and hard on him, but I was just afraid, afraid of being caught, but perhaps it wasn’t really that.

We walked and walked, but night could not come quickly enough for me. Near the edge of town things began to be unpleasant again. I had not spoken and had purposefully ignored the Captain as much as I could reasonably do. I was being a “real pain,” as they say.

“Look, I’m going to say something now,” he told me, and he grabbed my arm and spun me around. While it was not a violent gesture, I instinctively pulled away from him, and I felt fear lodged in my throat. “If I’m too much trouble for you on your little quest to save your sister, then I’ll get myself out of here.”

“We’ve been through this–”

“Well, we’re gonna go through it again!” he was obviously very angry now. “I don’t care if I do get captured! I’d rather do it myself than get treated like an idiot by you! You obviously don’t need me, so goodbye!”

With that he began to walk away toward the French border. My emotions exploded inside me and overpowered my mind. I was shaking, trembling all over, and more afraid than I’d ever been.

“You can’t!” I called to him. “You’ll be captured for sure! Can’t you understand that?”

“So long, tuts!” he replied.

My pride fell before my fear, “Captain, you know I can’t do this without you! You can’t leave! Please don’t!”

But he just kept walking. It was one of the most horrible moments in my life.

“Captain!” I cried desperately. “I’ll turn myself in! I’ll go back and tell them everything! I can’t do this alone! Please, Captain!”

As he walked away, I lost all sense of reason. I turned and started stumbling back into town. I believed there was no hope. I had destroyed my own source of comfort and deserved to be captured. It was inevitable anyway. While we walked away from each other, I heard the noise of an engine, and a car came down the road toward town. It was a military car with a German officer inside. As it drove by I picked up a rock, and with tears streaming down my face, I threw it and hit the officer on the arm.

I heard an angry shout as the man yelled for the car to halt. I ventured to glance to the side and saw that the Captain had turned back and was staring at me in disbelief. I myself could not believe what I was doing: I was destroying any hope of finding Gabriela. It was a selfish, unreasonable thing to do and I hated myself for it. But at the moment I was distracted.

The big German officer got out of the car with his adjutant. They walked up to me, and the man, who was probably in his late thirties, stared down at me with as cold and ruthless an expression as I had seen in a Nazi.

“What did you mean by that, girl?” he demanded. “Do you simply like throwing stones?”

I had no answer. I could not continue with this horrible thing I was doing, nor did I have the courage to try to get myself out of it. I just stood there, trembling, with tears freshly in my eyes.

“I don’t think she likes you, Colonel,” the adjutant declared. “I think she is a dissident.”

“Is this true?” he silenced the man with a raised hand. But when I did not answer he stood closer, right in front of me, so that I could feel his breath upon my brow. “If you have nothing to say for yourself I shall have you arrested. There are some who say the Resistance operates out of this town. Are you one of them? Answer!”

I suddenly felt very ill and, in repressing it, felt I would swoon, which I soon did.

I felt my body aching as my eyes opened again. I was so very tired of waking up and wondering what had happened. I found myself to be very, very cold. I was seated in a chair and all my outer clothes had been removed, leaving only my dress to keep me warm. They had even taken my boots. My hands were bound behind the cold metal chair I was seated upon. The room was small and its stone walls were bare. From a thin, high window light made its way onto my face, so that it was hard to see. The chair was torture enough in itself, for its cold penetrated the thin layer of cloth that was my dress and chilled me through to my very bones.

As I woke I found my body already numb, so that I could not even fight against the ropes upon my wrists. My ankles were bound one to each leg of the chair, on the outside. There was such chilling cold everywhere! I wondered that I had not already died of pneumonia. After what seemed like at least half an hour, my body had stopped trembling and I found that, even without the ropes, I could barely move without pain. That was when a man entered the room. It was the adjutant from the road.

“So,” he began, “your name is Greta? That is the name on your papers, at least. But is that who you really are, now? Is it not rather some name given to you by the Resistance? I’m having your papers analyzed to make certain they are authentic. Even if they are real, why do you assault a military officer on the road, and have no reason? You do not speak? Tell me, what is your real name and where are your friends in the Resistance?”

I could barely muster enough energy to speak, I was so cold.

“It was a simple m-m-mistake,” I said. “I was angry with my lover and threw a rock… p-p-please, you must believe me. I know no one in any Resistance… I have nothing against G-G-Germany.”

I hate and abhor lying…

–Psalm 119:163a

The verse flew into my mind before the lie was even fully conceived. And looking back, I remembered that I had sinned doubly, for I remembered Proverbs 6:16-17a,

These six things doth the LORD hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto him:

A proud look, a lying tongue…

It was my pride that had placed me here in this torment, in this dungeon. Was I sinning by lying to this German soldier? I remembered how David’s wife had lied about him, and the Lord had not condemned her. Was it the same thing?

I felt my head jerk back and my aching body throbbed greatly. The officer had struck me a terrific blow with the back of his hand. Nor was it a warning blow. I felt blood dripping down from my nose and into my mouth.

“You know nothing? I do not think you are speaking truthfully. Where is the Resistance? I will ask you one more time, and if you do not tell me, you will die.”

“P-P-Please…” I begged, completely forgetting how little that threat meant to me.

Taking out his gun, he placed the barrel against my forehead. The gun barrel was not as cold as I expected. Perhaps that was from it having been at his side, or perhaps I was already colder than the metal.

“Where are they?” he demanded.

I could not tell him (though I did know), nor could I bring myself to lie a second time. His finger squeezed the trigger, and as I closed my eyes, I heard a thunderous sound and my head jerk again. I felt blood trickling down from my temple. But I was not dead! At the last moment he had shifted his aim to the left and just grazed me. The pain was tremendous, and he had to put his hand over my mouth to stifle my screams.

“We will see if you are not merely very courageous,” he said to me.

For some reason, when he left, I felt a little nugget of strength grow inside me, and with it I fought against my bonds. My ankles were hopeless (and would have been of little help anyway), but though my hands were numb with cold and the tightness of my bonds was impossible, I fought with them. I rubbed and pulled until my wrists were raw and bloody, but it was all useless. I could no longer feel the pain, just throbbing everywhere.

After about twenty minutes of struggling, the soldiers came for me. The adjutant came with them. They untied me and half-carried me out of the room. It proved to be part of the Nazi headquarters building in Eppenbrunn. To my surprise, I was led outside, and one of the soldiers carried my belongings. However, I understood very soon. They took me into the back alley nearby where were trash piles waiting to be burned. They threw my things away and then shot me several times in the chest and stomach. Then, as I felt myself slipping away, I perceived myself being lifted and thrown onto a large pile, to be burned with it the following morning.

But this time it was different. I did not immediately black out as I had several times before. I felt the pain of death without its actual sting. The bullets, being from a Luger, had gone right through me, and so eventually the burning pain subsided and then vanished. I think my lips began to mutter in my stupor those familiar words,

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me…

–Psalm 23:4a

Then I seemed to sway back into the world of living men, and when I did, I found myself lying in the snow, my old jacket and cloak thrown hastily upon me and my boots slipped upon my feet. I was still cold and numb, but the sharper aspects of the pain were gone. As I looked up, I saw that I was in the woods, probably just outside of town, and standing nearby, with his back to me, was Captain Stewart. He had his face in his hands. I looked up at him and called him by name, very softly, “Casey…”

When I did, he turned around abruptly and stared as if he had seen a ghost. For a few minutes he just stood there, dumbstruck.

“I’m sorry, Casey,” I finished, gasping.

In a moment I was in his arms and he tried to warm me.

“Hey, don’t talk too much, tuts,” he said, as jovially as he could. “Don’t give up on me… I thought you were dead for a while there. They shot you–”

“Casey,” I said now, continuing to use his first name, “I was dead.”

For a few seconds he just looked at me as I stared up into his deep blue eyes.

“It’s alright,” he began again, “I’ll get you to the Resistance and they’ll get you fixed up. You’ll–”

“Casey,” my hand, bloodied and dirty, touched his face, “it isn’t the first time, remember?”

I then looked around, my strength returning, but the cold making it harder. I could see the old church tower, and knew where to head. I told him where to go, and fortunately it was already dark. He lifted me into his arms and we made off into the woods, trying to stay off the snow where possible so as to hide our progress. After all, I was a bloody mess and had already soiled the patch of snow where Casey had given up on me.

It seemed like hours, but even as I went I felt my strength returning. I should have made him let me down and walk, but I was tired and still hurting, and I wanted to be carried off by a strong, caring man. So we went on and on until we passed the familiar fencing and made toward the house where I knew Mr. and Mrs. Fruehauf would be up. They worked late at night sometimes. I only hoped they would open to us. I decided it was best to knock on the back door, so Casey carried me up the steps and I banged a few careless times on the door. After a few moments I saw a face in the window. It was certainly Mr. Fruehauf, and he looked shocked to see me.

In moments the door opened and at the man’s beckoning and words Casey carried me inside. Mr. Fruehauf locked the door behind us and indicated that Casey should take me into the living room, where his wife was waiting, looking horrified at the disheveled sight that was me. My blood was dried, so she got a blanket and wrapped me in it. It felt so very warm.

Mr. Fruehauf was a shorter man with a growing bald spot. He was in his late forties and wore a gray tweed jacket and a red and black sweater. His wife was not fat but she was larger without being taller and had a gentle, maternal personality. She had brown hair in large curls and wore a flower-patterned, predominantly blue dress.

Several times the Fruehaufs tried to talk to Casey in German, but he did not understand them. When they perceived he was not German, Mr. Fruehauf said in English, “You are the American pilot who was shot down yesterday, are you not?”

“Yeah,” he perked up, glad he could communicate now. “Yeah, I am.”

“You found her alive?” Mr. Fruehauf gestured toward me. “I was told that she was dead, just as the others. I do not see how she survived. Men I trust very much told me she was dead!”

“I’m not dead, Uncle Albrecht,” I said softly, with a little moan afterward. “Uncle” was the name we always called him, all of us children.

“There, there, Mercy,” said Aunt Lysanne. “It is alright, my dear, Auntie will take care of you…”

I sat up and looked her in the face. She looked at me with the most puzzled expression, and I knew why: there was something different in my face.

“I’m not retarded anymore, Aunt Lysanne,” I declared with my new, clear voice.

I waited for my words to sink in, and they sank in slowly.

“Mercy, you…” Lysanne started.

“I’m well now, Auntie,” I went on. “The Captain here will attest to what I’m saying.”

“She’s in her right mind, since when I first laid eyes on her,” he affirmed. “She found me and saved my life.”

“Saved your life?” Lysanne could not believe it.

“How?” her husband demanded.

We went through the story thus far, including some things Casey did not know, namely my interrogation by the adjutant. With the story told, we sat in silence. The big grandfather clock ticked away, and the wind began to howl outside, while the fire popped and crackled. Uncle Albrecht stared down at the floor, his wife leaning on his shoulder as they sat together on a couch.

When he spoke, Mr. Fruehauf was quiet and said, “We don’t really know you, Edith. We did before, but not now.”

“I know,” I replied. “I know who you are, though, and I know my family. I never had the chance to know you before, or to be known by you. For whatever reason, God brought me back. He brought me back in my right mind, and I can’t die. I know that Gabriella is alive, and I know that I can help her. I have to find her.”

“Gabriella was alive when they found her,” Auntie told me. “They brought her back here for medicine, which we gave her. But with her whole family dead, as we knew at that time, we sent her into France. The French know how to get people off the continent. The Resistance got her into France just this morning. We had no time to lose.”

“I’m going after her, but I need papers.”

“Of course, Mercy,” Uncle Albrecht nodded. “But you should not go now. It is dangerous now, with the Nazis searching for your friend here. They know we operate in this area and they will be expecting someone to try to sneak into France. Gabriella just made it across before the search began in earnest. I doubt you will be as lucky now.”

“And we put the two of you at risk by staying here,” I argued. “Can you hide two people until things settle down? I don’t think so. We have to find a way across quickly!”

“You will be walking right into their hands,” Albrecht declared. “That border will be prepared against any type of forgery.”

“What about just sneaking across?” Casey put in.

“That too is much risk,” he shook his head. “While there is little in the way of barriers, there are constant patrols. France is not a friendly place either, and if you should have to flee you will find yourself with enemies on every side.”

“If we stay here, we get captured,” the American declared. “If we leave, we get captured. At least we could try.”

“He’s right,” I put in, surprising him for some reason. “We have to leave. I’ll never find Gabriella if I stay here, and even if it weren’t for that, I won’t endanger you. You already take great risks–both of you. The captain and I are agreed to follow Gabriella and try to escape to England once we find her.”

“If you are determined to go, we will do what we can,” Albrecht said. “What do you want to do?”

“I think we’re past using false papers to get across the border,” I thought hard. “At the same time, I don’t think we’ll make it across if we try to sneak across, since they will have dogs…”

“Could we create a distraction?” Casey asked. “If we could draw away even one of the patrols we could have a good chance of getting through.”

“It’s possible,” the older gentleman nodded. “I could also get you Nazi uniforms that would help you.”

“We can make Nazi papers for you too, for when you’re across,” Aunty Lysanne mentioned.

“If there were a disturbance, the Nazis would expect to have their own men running about here and there,” Uncle continued. “As for the distraction, I have an idea. There are a few younger resistance members, including some of the late pastor’s sons, who would be happy to create an incident at the border.”

“Won’t that be risky for them?” I frowned.

“They’re used to doing these kinds of things,” he grinned briefly. “You leave it to them and me to arrange, and your Aunty will get you clothes and papers.”

We stayed with them that night, working feverishly, but not before I was thoroughly cleaned up. My wounds did not last, not surprisingly, and after a hot bath and some fresh clothes I was ready to help. Aunty and I worked hard on the papers, including photos and seals. The uniforms were already in good order, having been made ahead of time to disguise other escapees. Casey and Albrecht held council downstairs while we worked.

“Mercy,” said Aunty as we tended to the photos, “I know it can’t be denied that something has happened to you, but are you sure you were actually… well, I mean that you felt as if…”

“I was dead, Aunty, many times,” I assured her, hanging up a photo to dry. “I tried to kill myself, Aunty, and I failed. Those Nazis back at the HQ shot me more than once through the heart and stomach, and I stand before you now, whole. I don’t know why something supernatural is happening to me, Aunty.”

“Maybe it’s supposed to teach you something,” she suggested.

I frowned deeply. After all, I always thought, subconsciously, that it was some kind of purgatory.

“I can heal people, Aunty,” I mentioned. “You think that this gift is just to teach me something?”

“Maybe,” she said simply. “Maybe you’re just supposed to glorify God with it, Mercy. I know that it is encouraging to me to know that even in times like these, when we all live constantly in fear of our lives, God is doing miraculous things for us. Even if it were not so very miraculous as it is with you, it would still be encouraging. I am just thrilled that I got a chance to know you all grown up! I am so happy for you, Mercy.”

“Thanks, Aunty,” I smiled briefly. “I’m glad that I got a chance to know you too. I only wish I could have really known my parents and my brother.”

“You still have Gabriella,” the sweet old lady told me, “she was well when she left and made it safely across the border. And perhaps, just perhaps, when this is over someday, we will see one another again. You never know! God has a way of doing things you would not think were possible.”

I smiled dryly, “Right.” I couldn’t help myself, and soon gave her a hug. I was so thankful that God hadn’t left me completely alone in the world.

“Are you sure of your American friend, though, Mercy?” Lysanne frowned, still holding my arms. “I would hate to think of you marching into Vichy France with danger marching beside you.”

“God will take care of me, Aunty,” I told her. “I think it’s more likely I’ve treated him worse than he would ever treat me!”

“It doesn’t surprise me,” she chuckled. “Even as you were before this you could be a stubborn thing! But do be careful.”

The German uniforms were quite effective, and no, uniforms for women were not uncommon. Though we did not know it, it was late in the war. The year before, in July, word had leaked through of the Americans landing on Sicily, and by August the Nazis had evacuated the island. Not wasting any time, the Allies had fallen upon mainland Italy the next month, and despite the Nazis occupying the country, forbidden reports shared by the Resistances told how the Italians had already surrendered. There were even rumors of a massive invasion from England. Even the Nazis themselves, while still so full of pride, seemed to be able to smell the scent of death upon their ever-lauded Third Reich, and it terrified them. Just the fact that there were Nazi uniforms for women was a silent testament to this. Women, who were once forbidden from most official capacities and certainly from military service, were oddly being recruited for use as auxiliaries. We all knew it was because of the Reich’s losses in Russia and the constant push of the Allies upon Italy. Fighting men were becoming fewer, and women would have to do the jobs that were not fighting.

When I joined Albrecht downstairs I found Casey in his uniform, and for a moment I paused. It was an officer’s uniform and at once images of the man who murdered my family rushed into my mind. I knew it was not going to be easy for me.

“Well, you look darling,” he quipped as I donned my hat.

“Thank you,” I replied sarcastically. “I think these will do, Uncle.”

“I concur, my dear,” Albrecht nodded. “They fit you well, though I had to make some changes to the Captain’s. He is a little smaller than the last man to try it on!”

“I’d like to leave tomorrow, if we can.”

“I have sent word to the Pastor’s sons,” he told me. “Until we hear from them, we must wait. I know you are eager to get after your sister, Edith, but we must be extremely careful. I am certain you will catch up to her eventually.”

“I just hope I’m not too late.”

The house was a large house and we were comfortable. I slept well and in the morning I went to the kitchen early. The Captain was already up. He was used to rising very early, being a soldier and a pilot. I went over to the table and Aunt Lysanne made me some coffee. Breakfast was already on the way.

“Did you hear the news, Mercy?” Aunty said as I sat down. “Captain Stewart was just telling us that the rumors of the allies invading France are true! It could happen within the next few months, even!”

“Do you know where?” I asked.

“Sorry,” Casey replied. “That’s secret. I don’t know either.”

“I suppose it would be,” I conceded. “If it were soon it would make finding Gabriella much easier.”

“Or more difficult,” he observed before taking a drink.

“More importantly,” said Uncle Albrecht, “it would mean that the war is almost over! This nightmare we live in is coming to an end, Mercy. I thank God that you were childlike for so long, so that you did not have to understand the beginning of all this. You didn’t have to see the steady decline, Hitler’s ruthless politics and his even more ruthless attacks on his neighbors. We don’t even know half of the atrocities his armies have committed in Poland, Czechoslovakia, or Austria. You didn’t have to see the horrors of the police rounding up the Jews and hauling them to those hellish camps! They took Christians, too, Mercy, and many others to. We are fortunate to be alive now, and your parents were fortunate for a long time.”

“I was the end of their good fortune, it would seem,” I looked down, remembering the events that led to their doom.

“Mercy, don’t blame yourself,” Casey said, surprisingly. “You can’t help what you were and the way you reacted. That’s all behind you now.”

“He is right, Edith,” Aunty said, putting a hand on my shoulder and a plate of eggs and biscuits on the table in front of me. “You cannot blame yourself for your family, my dear. What matters now is that Gabriella is alive and that you have a chance to see her again, yes?”

“I know, I just wish I could have controlled myself,” I stared up at her, but there were no tears in my eyes, not anymore. “I can now, so why couldn’t I then?”

None of them answered me. I knew why. I didn’t really need an answer, and I think they knew that. I had been retarded, and how could I have controlled myself when my mind was the mind of a four-year-old?

“Thank you,” I said. “All of you. Aunty, you and Uncle have been so kind to me. I knew it before, when I was an idiot. I know we’re not really related, but you’re the only family I have left now, apart from Gabriella.”

“We love you, Mercy,” Uncle said. “Your family was like a part of ours.”

We began to eat, but Uncle Albrecht left shortly thereafter to check on how things were going. He had a radio in the basement and used it to communicate to the other rebels. That alone could have cost him his life, but he not only coordinated efforts with it, he also broadcasted anti-propaganda radio to the area. The Nazis very much wanted to get rid of him, and would, if they had only known it was Uncle.

So the three of us remaining ate in silence until finally Aunt Lysanne excused herself to continue working on her “projects.” That left just me and the Captain. I ignored him for a while until I thought about how wrong it was to do that. When I looked up at him, however, he wasn’t eating. He was looking back at me, but for some reason it didn’t make me uncomfortable. We had not been together very long, in truth, but my experience the night before had changed the way I thought about him.

“Why did you come back for me?” I asked, genuinely curious. “You had your disguise and your papers. I probably took a lot of Nazi attention off you. Most likely you’d have made it to France. Why, by now you could have been tasting wine at a café on the other side. You couldn’t honestly think I would still be alive.”

“You can’t die, remember?” he said with a weak laugh.

“But you can,” I persisted. “And besides, even if I were alive, why would you want to find me?”

“Look, you wouldn’t have gone back there and been captured if I hadn’t been such a heel,” he blurted out suddenly, startling me slightly. “I knew you needed me, but I just had to… you know… get you back somehow. It was a stupid thing to do, and I’m sorry, okay, sugar?”

“Okay, Casey.”

He poked at his eggs for a few more moments, then added, “I went back and waited outside the HQ till it was nearly dark. I didn’t know where they had you, or what they were doing to you. I just wasn’t going to leave you there. If they knew you couldn’t die they’d do things to you I don’t even want to think about. I thought for sure that I’d never see you again, but I couldn’t leave you.”

Again he paused. I could tell he felt horrible about the whole affair. I did too. I knew a lot of it was my own fault, but I saw where he was coming from. So I said, “Thank you. I’m glad you didn’t leave. I knew it was my fault you stormed off. I knew I’d been awful to you, on purpose, and all because I hated my life–my indestructible life. I never expected to see you again, either.”

“When I saw them dragging you out and into the ally, I thought you were dead already,” he went on. “Maybe I didn’t believe your story quite one hundred percent yet. I saw them take you into the alley and the man just let you have it. I don’t know why they had to shoot you so many times like that. It was almost like spite. I didn’t see how anyone could have survived that, supernatural or not. That evening I sneaked into the alley and wrapped you up in a blanket. I thought to myself, ‘What if she’s right? What if she would come back?’ And then I just couldn’t let you get incinerated the next morning.”

“So you took me away.”

“Yeah,” he looked at me in the eye again. “I carried you into the woods… I just couldn’t stop thinking, ‘You killed her, Casey. You were angry at her for putting you down, and you got her back but good, buddy. You got her back but good…’”

I saw his brow tremble and his face muscles tighten.

“Casey–” I began, but he interrupted.

“And then, when I unwrapped you in the snow, I just couldn’t get over it,” the American continued. “There you were, such a young, beautiful human being… dirty, bloody, and… dead. I tried to close your staring eyes, but my fingers were too cold. They kept shaking. When you said something, I thought, ‘Casey, you’ve got one more chance.’ I’m gonna make the most of it, Mercy, I really am.”

“I’m so sorry, Casey,” was all I could say. Touched deeply by his difficult words, I wondered that God had given me a companion who was so much what I needed. I needed someone to be patient with me. “I’m sorry I treated you so terrible. Your German actually sounds really good.”

“Thanks, sugar,” he smirked. “I can understand now, now that I’ve seen beyond any doubt what you have to go through. It would drive me up a wall too, probably.”

“I truly am thankful you’re here. I can’t do anything by myself.”

“I need you too, Mercy,” Casey admitted. “I’m not much for stealth and spying and all that junk. I’m just a pilot from Iowa who just wants to serve his country. I can fly a plane, so I chase other guys out of the sky and drop killer rain on Krauts. Girls really aren’t my thing, either, actually.”

“Really?” I smiled. “You call me ‘sugar’ and ‘tuts’ and act like you’re a ladies’ man all the time!”

“Never worked on the girls back home,” he quipped. “Doesn’t work on you, either, I think.”

“Right now you’re pretty popular with me, Casey,” I mentioned.

He said nothing more, but his expression was priceless, almost blushing, and perhaps just a bit proud.

We were then interrupted by Uncle Albrecht returning.

“Good news,” he told us. “Those boys caused a disturbance this morning north of town. They stranded a German truck coming from France, and gave the driver a thrashing! The border is now more concerned about people going into Germany. With luck you will be able to get across this afternoon.”

“Here’s hoping,” I said, looking back to Casey, and he winked at me.

Invincible as I was, I was afraid. It was three hours later and the two of us had just bid farewell to the Fruehaufs. We walked cautiously through the snow, heading south. We wanted to get a little further away from the disturbance the Resistance caused that morning. Getting across was going to be a little tricky. Even in disguise it was unlikely two Nazis, one of them a woman, would just be wandering across the French border. Fortunately and unfortunately, as we neared border, it began to snow. Already cold, we were almost were almost snow blind, as whiteness was all around us.

As of yet we had neither seen nor heard any patrols, though the heavy snow was doubtless partially to blame for that. I prayed that we would not suddenly stumble upon one of them. As it was, Casey had his pistol with him, so for the moment, we were safe, but if it was a strong patrol, and we were caught unawares, things might go badly for us.

The silence was almost disturbing as we walked on, going as quickly as we could manage. I felt after a while that if the quiet continued, we were going to get twice as nervous just from each other. So, I decided to “break the ice,” so-to-speak. I could tell that after Casey had made all those difficult admissions to me at breakfast, he felt a bit uncomfortable around me.

“So, you are from Iowa, you said? Whereabouts in America is that?”

“Well, I guess it’s west of Chicago by a good bit,” he remarked. “You know where Chicago is, right? Big city by the Great Lakes?”

“Yes, I know where that is, I think,” I remembered seeing the oddly shaped lakes on a map. “Do you live in a big town?”

“Sort of,” he shrugged. “I mean, it seems a bit bigger than Eppenbrunn back there. My family has lived in that area for a long time.”

“And what is your family like? Is it a big family?”

“I guess so. I’ve got an older brother, and a younger brother, and a sister younger, so that’s four of us. My dad has always been a farmer, but I went and got a job at Marshalltown Company. They make tools and stuff. It was better pay than working on the farm, but I guess dad was kind of disappointed when Jeff and I went to work there.”

“Jeff is your older brother?” I guessed.

“Yeah.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“He was killed in Africa,” Casey said grimly. “He was one of the boys that tried to push the Krauts back into Europe. We won, finally, and ever since July of last year, we’ve been shoving our bullets down the Italians’ throats, thanks to what they accomplished.”

“I am very sorry about your brother,” I said, realizing I was not the only one suffering for the loss of loved ones. “He must have been a very brave and courageous man.”

“Actually, he just wanted to make a name for himself,” he sighed. “He just wanted to get away from the farm, and far, far away from mom and dad, and all that came with them. Jeff just wanted to do life his own way, you know? There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

I said nothing as I stared back into his face. He did not seem as if he really wanted me to agree with him, though that’s what I initially thought. It grieved me, but I could tell, somehow, that he was not proud of his brother, as much as he loved him.

“What is your younger brother’s name?” I asked gingerly, hoping for a happier story. “Is he alright?”

“Clark,” the Captain told me. “He joined the airborne, last I heard, jumping with the 101st out of England. He was mamma’s boy, you know,” he grinned. “Clark always loved home, the farm, and family. He was everything Jeff wasn’t. He would always keep his little Bible with him, even when he left for training. God knows where he is now, or if he’s still alive.”

“I thought that my whole family was dead, Casey, and I found out that against all hope, I still had someone left. Maybe, just maybe, God will preserve your brother the same way He’s preserved Gabriella.”

“And what if He doesn’t? Then what? What good is He if He doesn’t save anyone?”

“God doesn’t just save people from death, Casey,” I tried to explain. “God saves people from Hell, which is so much worse than death. What I went through was, I think, the closest I could come to Hell on this earth, but some may go through worse. But Hell is worse than any of this, worse than all the death and horror of this terrible war, bad as it is. I’ll pray for Clark, and for your family back home.”

“I appreciate it,” he shrugged. “But what about you? I mean, I can understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but what about your family? Did you always try to sneak Jews out of Germany?”

“No. My father worked for the Wehrmacht, building weapons. He owned a weapons plant for many years, after the Great War, disobeying the treaty we were then under orders not to build weapons. Above anything, he wanted Germany to be great again. But when he discovered that my mother was a Christian, it shattered everything for him. Fearing for his life, he retreated from public service, and eventually, mother succeeded in showing him the Truth. After Father was saved, he regretted the things he had done in the service of Hitler, and vowed to make a difference in the effort against the Reich. My father knew of the horrible things that the Nazis do against those they send to the camps, and tried to save people from them.”

“And what about you? They hid you for a long time, it seems like.”

“My father was able to hide me because of his influence and money. Without it, they would have been forced to give me up to be killed, since retarded people are a burden and blight upon Germany, just like Jews and elderly people, and anyone else the Nazis dislike. Do you hear something?”

I had become gradually aware of a repeating noise drifting steadily through the snow, until all at once it came very clearly to our ears. It was the barking of a dog!

“We have to run!” Casey exclaimed, and taking my hand, half dragged me through the snow on our way to the border. It was not far, and we were already in the woods it ran through. The dog’s barking got louder and louder, and we knew it would soon be on top of us.

“You have to leave me,” I declared, and Casey paused.

“What? Are you crazy?”

“Stay here and hide!” I insisted. “When the dog comes it will follow me, since I will keep running. You can then ambush the men following it.”

“But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me!” I said, running off. “I can’t die, remember?”

The warmth of my rapidly moving blood warmed my ears, and my heartbeat sounded like a dull gong in my head, combining with the noise of my running to all but obliterate the noise of the pursuing dog. That is, until he was very close.

After a few minutes I turned and looked back, and saw the large German Shepard barreling through the snow after me. I knew at once that there was no further escape from the animal, and turned to meet its attack, bracing myself as best I could and pulling my head down to conceal my neck. Out of the eerie whiteness it bounded, like a specter of some kind. Despite my apparent invulnerability, I realized there was a good chance I would be severely injured, and this made me very frightened.

As the dog came, though, big and muscular, it stopped and stood very still in the snow, growling at me loudly. Now only a few yards from me, the dog was obviously more than a match for a young woman my size, and a fight with it was certainly a losing battle. Nevertheless, I stared it down, waiting for the leap and tackle that would doubtless bury me in the snow. As I faced it, though, I saw the look on its fierce features begin to change, and the growling ceased. Then it began to behave strangely, whining and looking backward occasionally.

“Go on!” I yelled angrily, still speaking English for whatever reason, clenching my fists and trying to sound dangerous. “Go away!”

The dog hesitated for a moment, whined again, and to my shock, ran away! It did not run back to its masters, oddly enough, but off into the woods, seemingly at random. As I puzzled, I then heard two gunshots not far from me, and they startled me awfully. Again I ran, my heart racing, back to where I had left Casey. I found him walking toward me.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly enough. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

“No,” shaking his head, he held my arms as I held his. “What about the dog?”

“I have no idea. It caught up with me, and then it just stopped, and when I told it to go away, it did! It was behaving very oddly, whining and looking uncertain. It wouldn’t come near me once it caught up to me. I don’t know what to think.”

“Well, no matter,” the airman replied, “let’s get a move on. I don’t hear anymore patrols, and I got both the Krauts that were with the dog, so let’s go. Come on, hurry!”

Nodding, I followed him deeper into the woods. It was a somewhat mountainous area and very cold, but we made good time. There was a small French town called Roppeviller not a mile from the border. On the outskirts of the tiny village was a small condemned building the French Resistance would use to temporarily house escapees. There was the slim chance that my sister was still there.