I was in chains—but at least for the moment, I was free
Searing the air were screams of those trapped in the armored cars ahead of us. Our vehicle, the eighth one in the convoy, had not suffered a direct hit. But sparks from the seventh vehicle were shooting every which way, arching overhead, causing havoc. There was not a moment to lose. In panic, the two SS guards threw open the burning flap of canvas that covered the back of our truck. And in a flash, they jumped off.
From the back of the truck, our captors barked at us to come, to follow them through that opening, the edges of which were already smoldering.
“Schnell,” they shouted, as if we were some circus animals that had to be threatened into leaping.
Not wishing to place myself back into their hands, I decided to take my chances and try escaping the fire my own way. Up to this moment I had felt weak, helpless, dejected—but now I discovered a way, a rogue way to get out.
In the front corner of the cargo area, there was a slash in the canvas, which I had noticed yesterday, at the outset of the journey. Summoning strength I did not know I possessed, I ripped it completely apart. Immediately, the prisoners lined up to slip through the tear and get off.
Once outside, we crawled away from the eight-wheeler and from our captors, who started to circle around it in search of us. One of them spotted the boy and charged in his direction.
By some stroke of luck, the SS guard tripped over a dead body, which allowed me just enough time to scramble to my feet and grab the boy by his arm. We dove into the bushes.
All around us, the air reeked of ash. We choked the urge to cough. Fearful that the foliage might catch fire, we rolled down the slope, away from the burning vehicles. All the while we hoped that the clinking of our chains, which might disclose our position, would be swallowed by the roar of the flames.
Thankfully, with each motion forward on our knees and hands, the cloud of smoke was thinning out, till at last we could stop guessing our way.
In an instant, the truck that had carried us became engulfed in flames, as did other vehicles. We took cover behind some rocks, just as sheets of fire spread across the road. The blaze was a magnificent sight. I could not begin to describe the sensation in my heart, the unexpected relief.
I was in chains—but at least for the moment, I was free.
After D-Day, her photograph appears on the most-wanted Nazi propaganda posters. Who is the girl with the red beret? She reminds him of Natasha, but no, that cannot be. Why does Rochelle step into his life when he is led by SS soldiers to the gallows? At the risk of being found out as a French Resistance fighter, what makes her propose marriage to a condemned man?
★★★★★ ”The story of how they survived such horrors is extraordinary. Also extraordinary is the author's deep and gorgeous writing.”
