An Old Man's Memories

He was born in Paris at the turning of a new age and lived there until he was seven. The issues of the day swirling around him as his fathers friends debated and fought over the merits of it all. His father held for a new constitutional monarchy and had to flee the city when that philosophy lost favor and the republicans came to power. He brought them away to his mother's people and left them to return to the city, dying there in a senseless battle of ideas.

He learned his letters and numbers in the village school that the new government set up after they wrested control of education from the Catholic Church but the grand ideas the schoolmaster brought to them had no interest for him as he stared out the window and longed for the freedom of the fields and meadows. He suffered through his education, scraping by until she came, and then he fell to with a zeal that amazed his teacher and his grandfather, but his mother guessed the reason for his newfound ardor and asked about the girl that had captured his heart. Struggling to order his thoughts and his words he told her, and three years later he haltingly told the girl.

He had grown up working alongside his grandfather and his uncle, working for the family that owned the large estate on the hillside overlooking the valley first as a laborer and then gamekeeper he learned every inch of the land and surrounding territory. He spent the rest of his waking hours working on his grandfather's small holding. As he grew older they managed to buy the tract that lay next to his grandfather's land and fitted it with the house where he would later bring his young wife. When he came of age he went to her family proved to her father that he could provide for her and brought her into the country. After two years of marriage she presented him with a son, the first of three.

The oldest boy was an intellectual like George's father and dreamed of the city and far away places. He tried, but the boy wasn't interested in the land, or in hunting, preferring to find his adventures in the pages of books. He left them to go to the great metropolis and was killed there when he got caught up in the shifting political causes as his grandfather had. The middle boy was killed in the Great World War, cut down by a German machine gun barrage before he ever had the chance to discover what path he wanted to follow. The youngest followed his brother into the trenches of the war and was struck down by a gas attack after only two months on the lines. He had been invalided out and when they went to the train to bring him home there was more of a funeral procession than a celebration as they brought him back, so sure they were that he would be dead within days.

Paul survived his injuries but never regained the strength to work the land along side his father. Instead he studied with the schoolmaster and when the old man died the town asked him to take up the position. For a time it seemed he had overcome the effects of the gas. He met and married a young woman of the town and the family rejoiced when she became pregnant with their first child. But when the epidemics came his delicate health failed and they buried him next to his brothers and his grandfather. The girl joined him three months later when she died in childbirth, leaving them with an infant grandson to raise.

George and Cecile raised the boy as their own. George and Andre worked and hunted together roaming over every inch of the land as he had done with his grandfather. The holdings had been combined when George's uncle died so Andre would inherit a sizable property and George taught him everything he knew about the land and how to make it prosper. He sent him to school with the Catholic brothers and saw to it he had the finest books and tutors to give him the best chance to succeed at anything he would choose, all the while secretly hoping the boy would stay on the land as he had. He made sure the families in the area knew of the boy's successes with both his practical and intellectual pursuits and he cultivated contacts with those that had suitable young daughters. All of their hopes and dreams rested on this dark haired smiling young man.

But the focus of their lives had taken up arms against the Germans in this new war by joining the resistance and had been killed just a year ago when a patrol of soldiers surrounded them during an attempt at sabotage. Only three of the men escaped that night. One of them, Emile, brought the story of Andre's last moments to them and swore to their grief stricken silence that he would continue the fight and that he would watch over them as Andre would have done.

The death of the boy broke his wife's heart. She had lived through loosing her sons but couldn't survive the loss of her grandson. When she fell ill the last time she turned her face to the wall and died leaving George alone with his grief. His heart died with Andre and his soul with Cecile, he was empty now, merely waiting to die himself he went though his days shrouded in sadness, working only enough to keep his animals alive he let the land go fallow. Weeds grew where Cecile's flowers once thrived and dust and cobwebs crept into the corners of the home they once shared. Emile came and brought men with him, using a secrete room Andre dug out under the cellar stairs, continuing the fight that George had no interest in. He spent most of his days lost in the past, holding his family close in his memory they became more real to him that Emile and his fighters or the strangers they brought with them, or the German patrols that searched the countryside for them.

When the new group came into the house he barely recognized their presence, they were the ghosts, shadows that moved through his life and occasionally drew his attention away from Andre, Cecile and his lost sons. He only roused himself when his dog grumbled a warning when one of them came too close. As the figure dropped into a crouch to offer a truce to the old dog he found himself looking into a dark haired smiling face that shook the past from his mind and brought him crashing into the present. His eyes locked onto the boy in front of him and he watched, fascinated, as the mongrel rolled with trusting goodwill onto his back and offered his soft underbelly to be scratched. The young man gave a laugh and complied for a moment before he was called away to join the others as they made their way down into the cellar. As he rose to his feet he glanced at George and left a smile for him, breaking the spell. These eyes were not Andre's dark blue but a deep brown, in the lamp light nearly black,,, no, not the same. As he watched the group disappear down the stairs he called Emile back with a question.

"Who is this? Who have you brought into my home?"

"It is better you don't ask any questions old one. Don't worry about who they are, they will be gone in the morning." Emile searched the old mans face. He had never shown any interest in any of the others they brought here. He never asked when they came and went what they were doing or why they were there. He was sure he never made the trip down the stairs to see what or who was in the cellar or in the room that sat behind the boxes and barrels they stacked up under the stairs. He reached out and gave the old shoulder a reassuring squeeze, this wouldn't last he thought, the old man didn't know how to stay in the present anymore, soon he'd drift back into the past where his heart was.

George returned to his place by the fire and slowly his memories reclaimed him but they were shaken, the pull of them weakened by a new image of an old dog rolling onto his back and offering his belly to a stranger's hand, just as he had always done for Andre.

In the morning when he awoke in his chair the house was quiet. There was no sound from the room below his feet. If there had been people here in the night they were gone now as Emile, or his shade promised. Still the memory of the night pulled at his heart and mind and George moved away from the hearth, cold now that the fire had burned out, picked up the lamp that was burning low on the table and went to the cellar door. He stood a long moment with his hand on the knob wondering what he expected to find at the bottom of the stairs. Opening the door he held the lamp out in front so the light would fall onto the steps and carefully made his way down. Once he reached the bottom he turned to the room under the stairs, frowning at what he saw there.

He was lost in his memories. The house had grown cold as the hours past but he hadn't noticed absorbed as he was in recalling every detail of his last days with Andre. He was jolted back to himself when Emile and his two friends arrived

George came to his feet, searching the younger mans face, "What is it? What has happened?"

"The Germans were waiting for us. They have the others." Emile explained as the other two went down to bring up ammunition for their rifles.

It was the same question as a year ago, the same answer. "You must leave here! You must get away."

"That's what I intend." His manner was calm, if he felt it, he showed no fear of what it must mean for the Germans to know their plans and movements. "This will not last for long. We will return when they have finished their search." As the other two men moved back through the cellar door and out into the yard he patted George on the back. "Don't worry. The Germans won't bother you. They won't take any notice of a harmless, crazy old man. Go back to your memories where you are safe."

And with that he left him standing there in silence, alone but for the old dog that stood by his side, growling softly at the closed door. Returning to his chair he waited and remembered. When the Germans came they found him as they always did, staring into the ashes and mumbling to the ghosts of his past.

George cleaned and oiled his rifle, he carefully loaded it and filled his pouch with ammunition. When the old dog rose growling to his feet he was ready. They moved to the door together. It had been a long time, but they had hunted many years together and knew how to handle predators. George stopped in the shade of the tree that stood at the edge of the yard, watching as the dog scented the air, following when the animal decided their direction and set off towards the forest. He heard a slight rustle and the hackles on the dog's neck raised as he growled a challenge a moment later the growl changed to a whine of recognition as the wind shifted and brought a familiar scent to the old nose.

"Come out boy, I won't do you any harm." George waited, his rifle resting in the crook of his arm, the barrel pointing down at the ground near his feet as the young man made his decision to show himself. The bushes gave a shudder as he stepped out of the cover they provided and they stood there measuring each other. The youngster held a knife ready in his hand and the eyes that searched the old mans face looked as if they had forgotten how to smile. "There are supplies you will need in the cellar, but it is not safe for you to stay here." The only answer he received was the sheathing of the knife. "Do you know where they have taken your friends?"

"Yeah. I followed them. They got them at a big house up on the hill above here."

Searching the surrounding trees he followed the old man back up to the house. "The guys that brought us here, where are they?"

"They have gone. They will not be back until the Germans have given up searching for you." He heard the young man start to say something and then bite back the words. George didn't stop to find out what had been too painful for the boy to say, it was too important to get him away from here, and he thought he knew how to do that.

"I gotta go after them. I gotta try and get them out."

The determination in the voice gave him little hope of persuading the youngster to leave and as he turned to face him George's argument died on his lips. "Don't waist your breath man, it ain't gonna work."

"I know. You are a fool for trying it, and I am a fool for helping you." The smile that reminded him of his grandson flashed in the others eyes. "I think I may know a way." And as they set off towards the barn together he started telling the youngster his idea.

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"How long's it been this time?" he asked quietly

They were huddled together in the corner of the cell. Each one of them had been taken to face the commandant when they'd first been brought in and after a rough hour of questioning they'd been returned here, left to wait and wonder what their fate would be.

"Nearly four hours." the answer came, barely above a whisper.

"We never should've bought into that plan a his."

They worked it all out months ago, when they'd first started doing jobs together, then it had been no problem to agree to it; if they ever got picked up as a group they'd play dumb, forced labor from hoods looking for a quick way out of the slammer. Yeah, at first it was no problem to agree to that. Hell, it was the truth wasn't it? But that was months ago, and things change. But the Warden had reminded them of it in no uncertain terms, just before they hauled Actor out. When they'd tossed him back Garrison turned his back on him, leaving the other two to see to his bruises and clean the blood from his face. He'd pulled the same act when it was Goniff and then Casino's turn. They'd played their parts, finally, by deriding him in front of the guards and cursing him for dragging them into this as he was pulled out to go face the commandant and his questions. Then they'd waited, two long hours, until the guards finally brought him back and shoved him in the door, laughing at a comment one of them made as they moved away. When Goniff forgot himself and moved to help him he was warned away with a growled "Get away from me, you low life!" and then the Warden settled himself against the wall across the cell from them.

As he dropped down on the floor next to the others Goniff leaned close "Hey, Actor, what'd those blokes say that was so funny?"

"They just promised to come back for him after the commandant has finished his meal. Apparently he didn't want the sight of him to ruin his appetite."

That had been yesterday morning, and that had been the pattern the sessions followed. The first couple of times it looked like the Warden had just been slapped around, but after the damned commandant had enjoyed his dinner they'd taken their fists to him. Seemed no one was willing to lose sleep over the questioning and they'd drug him back and dropped him in the corner of the room opposite the door. He'd managed to push himself up to sit leaning against the wall again and they eyed each other across the cell and waited for the guard to move away and make his rounds. Casino paced the chamber, stopping to stare out the bars until the man finally checked his watch and shoved away from his desk. He came and peered into their cubicle first, warning Casino away from the door so he could see all of them, then he moved off down the corridor and out the door into the next hallway. Casino stepped back to the door, blocking the view into the room as he turned and leaned against the door and watched Actor and Goniff move across to check on the Warden.

"How are you holding up?"

"I'll manage. They can't risk any serious damage until they get what they want." Garrison accepted the moistened cloth Goniff held out to him and pressed it against a bruise darkening the side of his face. "Have they questioned any of you again?"

Actor dipped the ladle in the bucket of water that stood just inside the door and held it while the Warden drank his fill. "We are not in your league, they are only wasting a Lieutenant on us and he just shouts at us from the door. So far he has been satisfied with our answers."

"They ask you about Chief?"

"Yes. Have we reached the same conclusion as to the way that question was posed?" The con man watched his commander nod, then close his eyes and lean back against the wall. "They gave us some bread for our dinner. Do you think you can eat some?"

Garrison shook his head, "Better not, I don't think it'd stay down there."

Casino turned and shot a quick look out through the bars, "Can it you guys, he's on his way back.." Turning to rest his back against the door again he waited for the guard to shove him roughly in the back with his club and order him away from the door. Sliding down the wall to sit next to Actor he waited until they heard the scraping of the guards chair against the stones of the floor before he risked a comment. "Them goin on about a fifth guy? That means we been set up, doesn't it?"

The con man gave voice to the answer Garrison was nodding to them from across the cell. "Yes, I'm afraid that is exactly what that means."

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The old man was a regular sight along the road. Letting his own land lie in ruin he had no feed for this animals and had to get what they needed from a farm several miles down the road. It was the only thing he did outside his own property these days, and only the animals need drove him to it. With effort the neighbors who were left convinced him to add a few extra miles to his trips and bring a supply of hay and grain to a widow who lived a few miles past his own holding. She too had lost her men to the wars and had no one else to turn to for this simple service. It was a few days early for him to make this trip, but his ever present pipe and absent minded escapes into the past would explain how the fire had started in his feed shed and his need to be on the road in the morning. They set the small fire together and let it burn to be seen as a flickering glow in the valley below from the estate on the hill and as a smoldering ruin by any patrol that might come to check on his story.

After the small building had burned itself out they returned to the house, trusting the old dog to give them warning and time enough to get the boy to safety in the forest if anyone approached. As they waited for dawn George went over the land and grounds of the estate in his mind, using his memories not to escape from his grief and loneliness but to plan the escape of the youngster's companions. By the time the day started brightening in the east Chief had the information he needed and had made the memories his own. He'd taken what he thought they would need from the stores under the stairs and they had secured the secrete room before they hitched the old mare to his wagon and set off. As George turned on to the road he made to whip the nag into a trot but felt a hand on his ankle as the young man reached out to him and cautioned. "Don't do anything to draw their attention." He let the reins go slack and allowed the horse her usual plodding pace and he sat staring, apparently drowsing on the bench, a blanket drawn over his legs and feet against the chill and his old dog stretched on the floorboards, shielding the boys hiding place. It would be midday before they reached the place, but they would draw no notice from the Germans who patrolled the roads.

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"Get ready here they come." The German Lieutenant ordered Casino to back away from the door as the guard fitted the key in the lock and stepped back to allow the two soldiers into the cell while he and the officer covered the men with their weapons. Reaching down the first man grasped the tattered blanket the prisoner had wrapped himself in, jerking it up and away he threw it against the opposite wall where the other two sat huddled together. Watching for a moment as the man at his feet struggled to push away from them. Together with his fellow he reached down and hauled the prisoner to his feet and threatened him with the back of his hand when he growled a warning to the other captives.

"Keep your mouths shut."

"What? For you, you ruddy screw?" Goniff laughed as he rolled himself in the cast off blanket. "Sorry mate, you ain't worth it." As the door slammed shut the little man turned his face to the wall and mumbled under his breath. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Actor raised his hand, ordering their silence as he strained to hear the conversation between their guard and the Lieutenant. As the men moved away, taking Garrison back to the commandant the con man leaned back against the wall and watched Casino pace while they waited for the guard to follow his routine and make his check of the corridors and halls outside their cell.

"What was that all about?" As soon as the guard moved out of sight they'd come together. They'd have only a precious few minutes to talk and plan before the guard returned, then another long wait until the next hour brought him to his rounds again.

"A truck will be here in the morning to take us to the work camps."

"And the Warden? What about him?"

Actor shook his head "Gestapo's coming for him tonight."

"Then we gotta make a move. Even if we can make if off that truck tomorrow we won't know where they took him."

Their second quietly reminded them, "The whole plan revolves around us getting out to a work camp. The security won't be as tight and we will have a better chance to escape." He looked at each of them a long moment before he continued. "The Warden would order us to get on that truck."

"Yeah? Well,,, the hell with his orders!"

Goniff nodded his agreement with Casinos sentiments. "You got an idea 'bout how we can get outta this mess?"

"It's not a very inspired one, I'm afraid." He waited for Casinos sarcastic comment but was faced only with their expectant silence. "If they follow their pattern the officer won't be with them when they bring Garrison back. That will only leave the one guard outside the cell when they bring him in."

"The odds of us over powering the guy with the gun before he has a chance to start shootin aren't very good."

"I'm afraid it's the only chance we have."

"So what do we do now?"

They listened as the sound of the guards steps grew louder. "The only thing we can do for now, just sit and wait."

Each time the guard left to make his rounds they huddled together to go over their plan, to come up with a way to draw the third guard into the room with them where they'd have a better chance of taking him before one of them got killed. When they heard the noise of men moving towards their door they were ready. But as the door swung open and they tensed to make their move only one man came through, dragging the Warden along behind him. The other two men stood to either side of the door, easily covering them with their rifles as their comrade dropped Garrison at their feet and turned to leave. The door slammed shut and the key grated in the lock and they turned and silently watched the Warden push himself along the floor until he sat huddled in the corner, his knees drawn up, his arms wrapped around his ribs and his face turned to the wall.

"So much for their damned 'patterns'" Casino growled under his breath.

The minutes crawled by as they waited for the guard to leave on his rounds, as soon as the man turned his back on their door Casino was in place and Actor and Goniff were kneeling on either side of him.

"Get away from me."

Actors arm slipped around the younger mans neck and shoulders supporting him as Goniff offered the water. "It's all right, the guard is gone for now. Did you hear their plans for us?" The Warden nodded his head in the shadows "It looks like they've raised the stakes on you." The con man surveyed the battered face and took note of the blood that stained the mans torn shirt.

"Rivalry. They want to get one up on the Gestapo."

"Damn it!" Casino hissed from the doorway, "They're already on the way back!"

"Guess the commandant's not very hungry today." Garrison shoved them away and tried to sit up straighter in his corner to face them as they came for him.

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"I don't care who comes in that door next time! I'm grabbin' 'em!"

"Casino we can hardly do the Warden or ourselves any good if we all get shot."

"Shut up, both of you! The guards on his way back already." Goniff had taken over the sentry duties at the grate in the door and stared through the bars waiting for the soldier to appear. The whole routine of the place had been turned on its ear, the guard had cut his rounds by a couple of minutes. They should of had a little over five minutes before this bloke hit his desk again but he could just see the mans shadow sliding along the floor towards the opening to their corridor. "Blimey! Will you look at that?!"

Casino and Actor glanced up from their argument and watched as the second story man backed away from the door, a grin starting to tug at the corners of his mouth. The light streaming in from the hallway dimmed as a familiar face peered through the bars at them.

"Where's the Warden?"

"They've taken him back to the commandant's office for more questioning. How did you get in here?"

"I had help."

"From the group we met at the farmhouse?" Actor feared it was another trick.

Chief read the concern in the older mans eyes and put his fears to rest with a grim answer. "No, not them."

"You have to get out of here, the guard should be back any moment." the con man advised.

"What's his routine?"

"He makes his rounds every hour. It takes him a little more than five minutes."

"Alright. I'll be back." he promised as he made his way back down the hall, passing the guard who was making his way back to his desk.

But before the hour was up and the guard went out on his next patrol the Warden was being hauled back into the cell. Casino blocked the grate and he and Goniff covered Actors quiet questions as they traded sarcastic barbs. "What's happened? Why have they brought you back so soon."

"I gave them what they wanted. They've gone to check it out."

"You gave them our contact lists?" Actor could barely conceal his shock.

"I gave them Emile Moreau."

"You're sure he's a collaborator?"

"He was here. I saw him leave as they were dragging me along the corridor."

"And the commandant believed he was a double agent?"

Garrison winced as he tried to shrug his shoulders. "I planted a seed of doubt this morning. Seems to have taken root."

The quarrelsome talk from the cell had finally registered with the guard and he moved quickly to the door, rapping on the bars he ordered their silence before settling back at the desk to finish a report he'd been working on. Garrison stayed where he was in the middle of the floor and the others leaned against the walls and waited. The hour was almost up, it wouldn't be long now.

The sound of the wooden chair scraping along the floor announced their period of freedom to talk. Actor dropped next to the Warden, shaking his shoulder gently to rouse him. As soon as his commander's eyes focused on him he gave him the news. "Chief's inside the compound," and reassured him quickly as he saw concern flash in his eyes. "He's found a way through the walls and has some help on the outside."

"Do you guys have a plan?"

The con man raised an eyebrow and gave him an rueful smile. "Not much of one I'm afraid."

Murmured greetings from the other two men and a change in the light coming into the cell heralded Chiefs arrival. "How is he? He gonna make it out of here on his own?" The young man clutched the bars in the grate and strained to see through the darkness, see his leaders condition for himself.

Actor shook his head. "I don't think so," and turned his attention back to Garrison when he felt the man grip his arm.

"There's a cemetery out by the north wall, Actor. You can see it from the commandants office."

The confidence artist called over his shoulder to their partner outside the door. "Chief, which way did you come in?"

"Through the north wall, man, right through the cemetery."

Looking back at Garrison he took heart from the light in the younger mans eyes. "Do you feel up to playing a dead body?"

"Yeah. I think I could just about manage that."

Actor smiled and gave his commander's shoulder a quick squeeze before he got to his feet. "You practice your part, we've got some planning to do."

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He'd just settled back in his chair, he'd managed to get a cup of coffee away from the cook at the end of the hall and with the Commandant and the Lieutenant away he was going to risk a cigarette to go with it. Just as he lit the match the commotion started from the cell to his left. "Guard!" He tired to ignore them. "Guard!" But the shouting would bring others and ruin his chance at a break so he shoved the chair back and stalked to the door. "What is wrong with you? What…?" and he stared through the grate and watched one of the men roughly prod the prisoner on the floor with his foot.

"I dunno man. I think you killed this one. You better get him outta here before he starts to smell."

"Hey! I ain't stayin' in here with no bloody corpse!"

The wiry blonde mans arm snaked out through the bars and clutched at his collar, the look in the mans eyes terrified, pleading. The guard struck the clutching fingers away and turned back to the desk to call for help but help was already at hand and he hailed the soldier he saw pass the opening at the end of the corridor. As the man came forward, rifle ready to cover him he ordered the prisoners away from the door and turned the key in the lock. Moving carefully into the small room he crouched down and reached a hand to the body on the floor as the cord dropped over his head and jerked him backwards, ending his life.

"Casino, this one looks about your size."

The man was quickly stripped and dressed in the safe crackers civilian garments. Actor used the phone on the desk to call for more help and Casino and Chief positioned themselves outside the locked door, rifles at the ready. When the next two soldiers appeared Chief tossed the tall man in the lead the keys and with a lift of his chin indicated he should open the cell while the others covered him. While the first man made his cautious way into the cell Casino dropped back behind the second man and brought him down with a blow from his rifle as the others took care of his partner. Chief sat quietly at the desk while the others got ready.

"Well, gentlemen we have our costumes, now all we need are the appropriate props."

"Down the hallway to the left and around the corner. The first aid room's down that hall, there's a sign over the door." Garrison was resting with his back against the wall, drinking the water Casino offered him.

Actor smiled down at him. "You've been very observant," and then addressed the other three. "I'll see if there's a stretcher we can use, if not we can tap a door off its hinges."

Within moments he was back carrying an collapsible stretcher, a tarp and a long length of cord. They helped the Warden onto the stretcher and covered him with the tarp, carefully tucking it in around him and wrapped the cord back and forth across his body tucking the loops and ends in under him to make it look like a body shrouded and tied for burial.

Cautiously they set off, Chief leading them out of the building and Casino guarding them from the rear. No one questioned them as they made their way along the walls to the north side of the compound. Setting their burden down close to the drainage ditch they found shovels and picks leaning in the corner and started to dig. Chief and Casino kept watch on the guards that made their rounds on the walls and roof of the building. Taking a break from their labor Actor and Goniff came into the shade by the wall to share a cigarette with Casino, shielding Chief as he removed the grate from the culvert that ran through the wall. They used the shallow grave to bury the stretcher and shroud and carefully helped Garrison through the opening. Chief stayed with him in the brush. The next time the guards on the walls were focusing their attention elsewhere Casino joined them, then Actor. After he'd put the finishing touches on the new grave and put the tools away in the corner Goniff slipped through and Chief replaced the grate and covered it with branches and leaves they'd pulled from the surrounding bushes.

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A small stream curved away from the wall, over hung with branches from the trees and bushes that grew along its banks it was invisible from above. It dropped down away from the old estate the Germans were now using as their compound and crossed under the road at the bottom of the hill. Even there it was so overgrown that it was not apparent from the road. If you didn't know it was there it was easily missed, but George had known of it. It had been a responsibility of his when he was a child and a young man to keep the water course clear of brush so that it would drain properly. He'd sent the boy up that course and gone on his way to pick up the load of hay. God willing they would be there waiting for him when he returned and he would hide them in the wagon and take them where they could find help to get away. But when he pulled up and whistled the signal he was met with silence. Glancing down he looked at the old dog for a sign but the mongrel slept soundly at his feet. George backed the wagon into the shade of the trees and waited. Lulled by the birds in the trees and the wind rustling the leaves overhead he drowsed and began to doubt that any of the things that had happened in the last two days were real, until the old dog growled and leapt from the wagon, whining a greeting as he rushed into the bushes and up the stream.

He could hear them moving carefully towards him, quietly splashing through the water as they made their way back to the road. He'd loaded the sacks of grain along the sides of the wagon, placing long narrow boards across them before he loaded the hay, leaving a space for them easily reached with a lift of the boards. He pulled the wagon up close to the place where the water ran under the road and made ready to receive them. They were wet and muddy from the stream, one of them injured, carefully helped up onto the road and into the wagon by his comrades. They nestled down into the loose hay, grateful for the warmth, trusting him to help them because the dark haired youngster trusted him. He pulled the last sack across the end of the wagon and arranged the hay over the top of it stepping back to survey his handiwork before climbing into the seat and starting the nag on her way, the old dog comfortably resting his back against the boy hidden under the wagons seat.

The old man George bought his hay and grain from had a son in the underground. He told him about Emile and what he had done, how he had betrayed Andre, and how he had turned the Americans over to the Germans. The word went out. The Germans would not find Emile Moreau or his friends alive.

The old woman he took feed to had a nephew in the resistance. George told him about the store of ammunition , explosives and money Emile had hidden under the stairs in his cellar. While the injured man was cared for and arrangements were made to get the Americans away to the coast he went back to the house with the nephew and his men and took everything they found off into the hills, to caves George showed them.

He traded his old rifle for an automatic and road with them as they made their way into the next valley to a safe place where the Americans could wait for the truck that would take them out of the area towards the coast. When the truck came he took his leave of the dark haired young man, shoving the weapon around to rest against his back so that he could give the boy a kiss on the cheek and hold him close to his heart for a moment.

"You can't go back there you know."

"I know. But it is no longer important."

He accepted a kiss on his own weather cheek and watched as the young man climbed into the truck next to his companions. He raised the hand that held his pipe in salute as the truck moved away and smiled back at the young man that watched him from the back of the truck until it disappeared in the dust and the distance. No, not Andre, but so like him.

In the box under the floor boards of the wagon that waited for him in the old woman's barn he had all that he needed, the lace Cecile made, the flowers he had given her on their wedding day, carefully dried and pressed now between the pages of the old Bible, a lock of hair cut from the head of each of his children and his beautiful Andre on the day of their christening. What more did a harmless, crazy old man need but these poor things and his memories.