March 16, ’44: The girl leaves. No chance. But really too dangerous – don’t ever know who is on what side.
March 17, 1944: Not much to do so I venture a little closer to the road – watch the passersby from under the shade of the tree, think about my next move. How am I going to get back to Americans and on combat?
As I’m sitting under the tree at Gabriel’s house, a large group of German soldiers marches by. I don’t move a muscle.
After the German soldiers are gone, I breathe again. Gabriel, apoplectic, makes it clear: if I don’t keep in hiding, “You & me!” & he slides his finger across his neck. Gulp.
I went back to the shed. I’m just not good at sitting around not working or getting something useful done but torture or getting my benefactor killed isn’t my idea of a good time either.
c. GCYI