would soon once more be in the hands of the German invaders. And for the first time that week I was truly afraid. So afraid that my legs felt too weak to carry me and my hands trembled uncontrollably. I wanted to scream but could not utter a sound. My stomach tightened in a knot, yet I wanted to rush to the lavatory.
The wounded men with us in the cellar became silent and inward. It was as if they were ashamed. They did not want to look at us—Papa, Mama and me. Some of them said they felt that leaving us behind was a kind of betrayal. And, quite naturally, they suffered a punishing sense of failure. None of our privations together was as bad as this.
With resigned fortitude, for the rest of the day we helped them as best we could as they prepared for that night’s danger. Even poor Sam would leave. He could walk, had recovered enough composure to understand what was going on and was calm enough for one of the others to lead him to the river. Also, I’m sure the thought of being left behind to become a prisoner had filtered through his addled brain and made him determined to keep control of himself somehow.It struck me even then that his bravery in the face of his suffering was quite as great as the bravery of the men who went on battling to save us.
So all would be evacuated from our cellar. All except Jacob. He was too weak to stand unaided, never mind walk, which his injured calf made impossible. For a while he tried to persuade the others that he could make it if two of them would give him support. But the sergeant in charge said no, he would never do it. They might get him to the river bank, but what then? What if they had to swim across? They asked me what the river was like. I told them, about two hundred metres across and, I had to admit, the current was strong, especially after heavy rain such as we were having then. And very cold. ‘It’s too risky,’ the sergeant told Jacob, ‘you’re not going.’
But this didn’t satisfy him. When his officer visited, checking how things were going, Jacob tried to persuade him that he could go if he had help. But the officer refused and gave him a specific order to remain where he was.
After that he brooded for a while. Then announced with cheerful bravado that if he had to stay behind he might as well make himself useful. ‘Carry me upstairs before you go,’ he said to the others, ‘and leave me with a gun and plenty of ammo. I’ll keep Jerry’s head down while you scoot out the back.’
I could not believe it when the others agreed.
‘How can they let you do this?’ I said.
He shrugged and smiled. ‘It’ll give me something to do. Take my mind off the pain in my leg.’
‘You aren’t strong enough,’ I said. ‘You’ll certainly be killed.’
‘Better than being taken prisoner,’ he said. ‘Can’t stand being cooped up. I’d rather cop it, fighting. Honest.’
‘No!’ I said, quite beside myself by now. ‘It’s wrong!’
‘Look,’ he said, trying to take my hand to hold me still but I tugged it away. ‘You don’t understand. It’ll help mypals get away safe and sound. In my place, any of the lads would do the same. We’re trained for it. Honest. Just my rotten luck. I’m the one who’s lumbered.’
‘Rotten luck!’ I shouted. ‘How can you say that? This is not rotten luck! This is because of fighting. Because of war. Rotten war! I hate it! I hate all of it! I hate those who have done this! How dare they! How dare they!’
Everyone heard. Stopped what they were doing. Gave me sorrowful looks. I had not meant to make such an outburst. Fear and anger mixed with hunger and exhaustion cooked it up. And something to do with Jacob and myself of which I was still not conscious. This, I think, more than anything.
Mother came and put her arms round me.
‘Remember your manners, my dear,’ she whispered as she hugged me. ‘Don’t make things worse for these poor men. Think what it must be like for them. Soon they must risk