Cowardly Man
By
Turner Hurst
Do you believe in ghosts? I never did until I became one in 1942 in Northern France close to the Belgian border when it happened.
One must imagine every soldier sees themselves as a brave and vital part of their nation's army. Sadly, not every soldier can go down as a legend. Not every man is made for war, and to my shame, I was not made for war. I was glad to fight for king and country. I was happy to be shipped off to a new land where adventures waited for me. No one thought that France could fall so quickly. It's a strange thing that in the sound of gunfire and loud bangs, I was left alone, hiding in the ruins of a destroyed building, just hearing the German soldiers laughing. Some singing songs from their home country, having a jolly old time after killing the men I saw as my brothers. I knew it was just a matter of time before they found me. I had to leave but where could I go? Most of the country was now crawling with Germans, and even if I did make it back to the British, they could have me shot for cowardice. Nowhere was safe now. Why didn't I just die in the fight there and then fighting the enemy? Why? My dear friend, there is only one reason for that, and that was indeed cowardice.
I couldn't tell you what went through my mind at that time, perhaps not much other than the fear of pain and death. I looked over what was left of the destroyed brick wall and watched as the Germans walked away. As soon as they were gone, I would move out and try to look for food and come up with some lie to tell if I was discovered by the allied forces, and if found by the Germans, well, I already knew how to pray. I moved through the streets, staying close to the walls. The laughter of the German soldiers stayed in my mind. When those German voices were gone, I heard the voices of my dead friends. Asked why I just left them to die. I knew the voices were just in my mind, but still, I wish I had an honest answer for them, a reason that anyone could understand, but alas, I did not. I went into another destroyed building, looking through the cupboards that remained and finding canned food that was likely outdated. With no can opener in sight, I took out the bayonet off my rifle and punctured the top of the can of pineapples but opening it was much harder than I anticipated. As I punched another hole in the can, I heard something moving around in the building.
In a panic, I put down the can and quickly turned around with the rifle in my hands as my eyes scanned the empty room, but I could see nothing. It must have been rats, I told myself, going back to the can. "Come on", I hissed in anger as I kept hitting the top of the can, again and again, making my arm ache. Finally, I got it open and was rewarded with sliced pineapple resting in syrup. Going off the smell coming from the can, they were way past their prime, but perhaps they were still edible. Of course, eating bad food and getting ill may not have been the best idea in my situation or any situation for that matter. Then I heard it again, something moving around in the ruins of this old house. I put the can down, picked up my rifle, and slowly moved towards the source of the sound. Entering another room, what looked to be the living room. I put my back against the wall, listening hearing some kind of chewing sound. I quickly moved into the room, aiming my rifle at a stray cat. I couldn't help myself but laugh, even if it was anything but funny.
"Hello, old fella, you give me quite the fright," I told the cat as if it would reply. He quickly ran off into another room, leaving a half-eaten rat on the floor with a big chunk ripped from the poor animal's side, the small amount of blood staining the carpet. I cannot tell what possessed me to step closer to the disgusting dead animal. Just as I stepped on a large Persian rug, I heard the cracking of the wood. Before I knew what was what was, I found myself falling down into an underground hidden room that was lit by lanterns hanging from the walls. Someone had been here or were still here with me. I spied a bed cover hanging over a small doorway in the basement corner. I can't tell you what I thought as I moved slowly towards that bed cover. I don't think I was even scared. Maybe I knew what I would find as I pulled back the old veil. I found a young woman, no, not a woman, not yet. She was still a teenager. Her sad blue eyes that looked up at me told a tale of hardship. The smell of her and the dirty clothing she was wearing told me tales of her troubles even clearer than words could. I knew she was just as scared as I was when the enemy was firing at us. I saw the knife in her hand holding out towards me. She yelled something in French at me, which I would imagine was "stay away" or some variant of that. My French was poor at best. I slowly put down my rifle, saying, "It's okay, it's okay."
Those blue eyes looked to my uniform, and a French word I did know came from her mouth. "Britanique?"
"Yes, uh qui."
"Where are the rest of you?" She said in broken English even if the English were broken, I was thankful she spoke it.
"Dead, there was a firefight. The Germans left no one alive."
"You are alive."
Thanks to my cowardness, yes, dear girl, but looking into her blue eyes, I found it nearly impossible to tell her that shameful truth. I had to lie. "I meant they spared no one but me."
"Why you?"
"I don't know."
She got up from her mattress and walked past me, and looked up at the hole that I fell through. "You fool, they'll find us now." she cried out aloud to me.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see the hole."
"That was the point."
"Then you can't blame me. You should have built the door better."
"Can't blame you." She hissed at me, her eyes wide and crazed, looking as she stared at me with anger. "You may have killed me. Do you not see that, you stupid Englishman"?
"I am so terribly sorry. They may not enter this building. I mean, what reason have they got to come here." She moved slowly back to the mattress. As I watched her, I realised how skinny she really was, like a medical display skeleton dressed in a white shirt and brown trousers. The question on my mind ever since I first lay eyes on the room finally came out. "How long have you been here?"
"Since they came to France."
"You're Jewish, aren't you?" I asked, knowing that Hitler's views on them made sense for her hiding away.
She simply nodded her head. "I see. How old are you?"
"Why?" She asked with some suspicion.
"I'm just curious."
"Sixteen."
"And where are your parents?" I could see the question brought her pain as her eyes moved away from me and at the wall. "Where do you think?" She snarled. She didn't need to say no more. I had heard rumours about Europe's Jews being taken off to work in camps for the Nazi war machine. Many of them were killed in these camps, but rumours are nothing more than questionable stories, as my mother used to say.
"I'm sorry," I told her, and indeed I was. It was hard for someone so young to be away from their family, even worse when their fate is all but unknown. She turned back to me and said so quietly I was barely able to hear her, "Do you think this war will end?"
"All wars come to an end."
"But what if they win?" As she said those words, my acts of cowardness felt even more shameful. Here was a girl who never harmed anyone, as far as I know. Right now, she would just be graduating high school, thinking of higher education may be and very likely thinking of boys. Perhaps even having her first kiss with a boy she would marry way down the line. Her question was also a good one that had been on the mind of every single person on earth. I could imagine the reality of living under Nazi rule. I could even imagine the swastika flag hanging from Big Ben. The more I imagined that reality, the more I wished I stayed and fought like the rest of the soldiers from my regiment.
"We will win," I told her for what else was there to say to her.
"How do you really know that?" Another good question and one I had no answer for, but I had to give her something "I just have a feeling." I told her, and I realised that just keeping quiet would have been a better idea.
"Well, makes me feel better." she sighed.
"Where did you learn English?" I asked her as I wanted to change the subject.
"What does it matter where I learn English. We should be thinking about what we should do. The Germans will find the hole in the floor, and how many of them do you think you can kill with that rifle of yours before they kill you and take me away?"
"It's fine, don't worry."
"How is it fine? Nothing is fine." She cried.
"I'm sorry", and I indeed was.
Hours later, darkness falls over the town, but nothing changes here underground forever in the dark. The French girl tried to get some sleep, and I stayed to watch, sitting with my back against the wall, my rifle resting in my hands. My eyes felt heavy. I knew sleep would take me to dreamland if I wanted it to or not. So, I feared what I would find in dreamland. Would I hear those voices again or hear the cries of the men I left behind? My eyes finally shut and suddenly reopened as I listened to the girl whispering, "Anglais?" Her name for me. "Are you awake?"
"Yes."
"I can't sleep."
"Don't worry, I'm keeping watch."
"What's your name?"
"Henry. What's yours?"
"Colette." There was a short pause where all was quiet. "My father was an English teacher. He studied in Oxford before I was born. So that's how I learn your language."
"He sounds like a very educated man."
"He was, and he was a kind man. Who loved mother and me? I really do hope I see them again."
"You may."
"You have anyone waiting for you back in Britain?"
"My mum, dad and two sisters and a girl named Irene."
"Tell me about her."
"Irene had been my dream girl for many years. So yeah, I was very smitten with her indeed. So before shipping out, I went to the dance with her, and as we held each other, she kissed me and whispered in my ear."
"What did she say?"
"She told me she would wait for me," I said with a smile.
"C'est très mignon," she said. Although darkness would make it impossible for her to see my face, she would have known how confused I was by the foreign statement. "That means that's lovely. There was a boy I like Claude." She told me.
"And does he know you like him?"
"Non, I was too. How you say timide to ever tell him. Now I feel it could be too late."
"Do you know where he is?"
"Non. He could be dead for all I know."
"Is he Jewish?" I asked her.
"Non, but it doesn't matter. Why must we be stuck with the labels like that? You know I never go to a synagogue, I do celebrate Hanukkah, but religion isn't really something that interests me."
"So, you don't believe in god?"
"I am not saying that I don't believe in God it's just I don't let my religion be the thing that uh I don't know the English word."
"Defines you?"
"Oui. Yes." She told me. Strange, I never heard a Jew or a Christian speak in that manner before. My mother would have screamed me silly if I told her I didn't want my religion to define me. "Do you know?" She asked me. I guess she meant do I understand, and yes, I understand, and that was what I told her.
The rest of the night was quiet, apart from the sound of the rats running around somewhere in the house and Colette's soft breathing. As I was fighting the need to sleep in the darkness, I thought about what I should do. I couldn't just say with Colette, hell, Colette couldn't just stay here. I needed to get her out and somewhere safe, but I didn't know if there was anywhere safe in France or Belgium. Then I heard something I did not expect to hear. It was Colette whispering, no not whispering but quietly singing to herself.
"Are you singing?"
She suddenly stopped as if she was embarrassed, and I heard a quiet sigh coming from her before she told me that her mother used to sing to her when she couldn't sleep when she was younger. With her mum not being here, I guess it fell to herself to provide the nightly lullaby, for it would been doubtful that my voice would get the same results.
"And what are you singing?" I asked her
"La vie en rose."
"What does that mean?"
"Life in Pink. It's about living life with positivity." To that, I didn't know what to say. What positivity could Colette have now? There was a short pause as none of us had a word to say to another until finally, Colette broke the silence by saying, "It's my favourite song. It was the last song I heard on the radio."
"Irene and I used to dance in front of the radio when our favourite song came on," I said, smiling to myself and not knowing why I told her that.
"That's sweet", She replied before another short pause and then she said something no one would have expected "We should dance."
"What?" I asked in surprise, thinking surely, she must be joking.
"I said we should dance?" She told me again. She was in this dark room under the destroyed remains of what was her house in her country that had been overtaken by a foreign power that wanted her dead or arrested and taken to God only knows where and she wanted to dance with a stranger. It was the queerest thing I had ever heard, but in its own little way, it kinda made sense. But still, I had to ask her, "Are you serious?"
"Of course."
"You can be my Claude, and I'll be your Irene." She said, walking towards me.
"No, I don't think this is right."
"It's just dance, A little fantasy to take us away from the darkness." She held out her hand to me. There was no denying it her idea of this little fantasy, as she put it was intriguing. I slowly stood up, took her delicate hand in my hand, and moved my arm around her thin waist, feeling the bone of her pelvis. We moved around her arms around me, my arms around her. It felt silly to dance with no music, almost stranger as she leaned her thin body closer to me. I didn't know what to do until she whispered, "Remember I'm your Irene. Use your imagination." She was not Irene but like some spell she cast upon me I started to hear music. It was a tune I recalled from the Tower Ballroom back in Blackpool. I moved back and looked at Colette's face that was barely visible in the dark but in my mind the face that stared back at me wasn't that of an underfed French girl but a beautiful brown-haired woman in a pretty red dress and what this I could see her ruby red lips coming close to me. I could help but kiss them. Then the fantasy shattered, and I found myself back in the basement my lips on Colette's chapped lips. Knowing this wasn't what I wanted nor what she wanted I pushed her off me, almost knocking her over. "No, we can't."
"I'm sorry." She said, sauntering back to her mattress. "I know I was wrong to kiss you. It's just you are the first friend I have had for" There was a short pause as I could see the cogs moving in her head, looking for the next word. "I don't know if I'll ever get to see another friendly face. I have come to accept that I may never leave this place."
"No, I don't believe that. I believe the day will come when you walk out of this place, find Claude and start a life together."
"Do you really believe that?" She dubiously said.
"You can't give up hope."
"But isn't that what you did? Do you think I really buy your story that the Germans just let you run away? You got scared and hid." The shame was unbearable. She had read me for the coward I am as soon as she saw me. The only reason she kissed me was that she believed she would die soon. "I don't blame you, others would, but I don't. Sometimes I think of picking up a knife, leaving this place and killing as many German soldiers as I can before they kill me. But fear holds me back from doing that."
"Like how my fear stops me from doing my duty."
"My pére used to say being fearless is being foolish but overcoming fear that's brave."
"I would say he is right, but I didn't overcome my fear, did I?"
"Neither did I." And that was the last thing Colette said to me that night besides. "Bonne nuit Henri"
Sleep did take me, and my dreams were horrible visions of death, streets covered with bodies, some of them belonging to people I once knew. I slowly woke up to the sounds of birds singing. A small reminder that the world outside was still going on through all the death and destruction. I stood up and looked at the bedcover that hid Colette from view. I could hear her soft breathing and knew she was still sleeping. Good, let her sleep, I thought as I tried to think what to do next. Colette can't stay here forever. Could I take her too somewhere safe? Perhaps if I save a young woman from a horrible fate would that make me seem more redeemable. I walked to a bucket in the corner that smelt of piss, well my bladder told me that I had to add to it, and that's what I did. Just as I stopped, I heard something moving above me. The cat perhaps I told myself, no it sounds heavier than a cat it was like someone walking above us. Then I heard the cricking of the floorboards and what sounded like another set of feet moving around. Slowly I moved towards my rifle, resting on the wall on the other side of the basement. I hoped to God that they would be locals looking for food, but those hopes were soon gone as I heard German words as they spoke to each other. I turned my attention to the bed cover as Colette was getting up from her mattress.
"Bonjour," she said, not hearing what I heard. I quickly got towards her, putting my hand over her mouth. Her wide eyes looked at me as I pointed with the finger of my other hand to the ceiling. She then heard what I was hearing. Her breathing was heavy, her body shaking.
"Stay very still and don't make a sound," I whispered to her very quietly and moved toward the rifle, hearing the above German yell. “Hey Hans, schau dir das an”
With the rifle in my hands, I looked to the hole and quickly moved back to Colette, putting the bed cover over the small room that made her bedroom. I sat on the mattress with Colette close to me. I aimed the rifle in front of me. She could see the gun shaking in my hands. Yes, I was scared, but yet I repeated to myself, "don't be afraid, don't be a coward." Now I heard the German's conversation. No doubt they were asking each other if they should go down the hole or not, and then there was a thud as one of them jumped down. He shouted something up to the other, and moments later, another thud could be heard. I could now hear the German stepping closer towards it, towards us. His hand moved towards the cover, my trigger finger started to twitch. It was kill or be killed then it happened so fast he pulled back the blanket and I pressed down on the trigger filling the room with a loud bang, and the German fell back, a shower of red coming from his head.
"Nein", I heard the other yell as I moved out of the little room, my rifle towards the direction of the hole in the ceiling. Then a bang and there was a sharp pain in my shoulder as the German fired at me. Yet it was my shot that won the short firefight as I fired one bullet going through his stomach. The German fell down, but he was not dead as he reached for his weapon that had fallen from his hands. I fired another straight through his head, putting an end to him. Colette came out of the room her face showing the terror she was feeling. She instantly saw the blood coming from her shoulder. "Sacré bleu," she said. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I will be fine," I said through my pain. "We need to get out of here now. The others would have heard the shots."
She moved a box under the hole. I stood on top of it, even though it hurt like hell, I climbed up, looking in both directions. "It's clear," I said as I got up. Colette soon followed me. It was strange to see her outside of the basement, but I didn't have much time to think about it. I knew the rest of the Germans would be coming for us. I moved gingerly toward the hallways seeing German soldiers marching towards the house through the front door. Quickly moving back, I turned to Colette, saying, "They're coming."
"We must leave through the back." Looking through the back window, I could see nothing but a field. Nowhere for her to hide and due to malnutrition, she wouldn't be able to run fast or for long. She started to move towards the back door, spotting and looking at me, wondering why I wasn't going with her. It wasn't right that someone so young should die this day, so I said the last word I would ever speak to her, and that word was "run."
There was a moment were she simply stared at me, her face showing deep regret before she nodded her head and turned away and ran off. Holding the rifle close to my chest, I said the lord's prayer and stepped out into the hallway. I fired one shot, only just missing the German soldier who stood closest to me before I heard their weapons, felt the red-hot pain as their bullets went through my body. There I lay on the floor, the Germans stepping over me like I was nothing. I heard whispers as my vision began to blur. Then there was something very peculiar that happened I started to see many random moments from my life some that didn't seem important at the time like saying "good morning" to the milkman and others that were incredibly important moments like the time I met Irene. Once those moments had flashed by like a movie, I was standing back in that hallway looking down at my own body.
So here I am now in the void watching over the living and, yes, I watched over Colette. I saw her join the French Resistance, I watched her celebrating at VE day, the first time she met back up with Claude and the joy on her face in 1948 when she held her firstborn son named Henry after the soldier that saved her life. It wasn't until her fifties that she found my grave and lay flowers down on it. She died at age seventy-seven never actually finding out what happened to her parents, but I would like to think she would have found them here in the void where I was reunited with my Irene.
