Part 2 of the story I posted Sunday. My Uncle Robbie, aged fifteen, has escaped from the Occupied Netherlands and travelled through Occupied France: he was reached the Pyrenees and is within reach of freedom. Now read on. Robbie was always a generous soul and was none too happy about having to steal to live. As a young gentleman, he also hated the idea of taking from people who had very little but he had no choice: a fifteen year old Northern European boy travelling alone in Vichy France would be picked up by the Germans in no time at all. So he took only the bare minimum, half a loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese or sausage but for his journey over high mountains, he took a whole loaf. Leaving the last village behind him, he set out into the hills. He made camp and, as the area was so remote, he risked a fire. It was his big mistake. The smoke was spotted by a German patrol and they headed towards his camp. Robbie heard them approaching through the woods: he slipped away into the gathering darkness, leaving all his belongings behind. He spent a cold, anxious night in the woods but as the sun rose, he was sure the Germans would have gone. Besides, he was desperately hungry and he had left his loaf of bread behind. In the dawn light, he cautiously approached the camp, which was silent and seemed undisturbed. As Robbie reached for the loaf from his pack, he heard the sound of the catch being taken off from a gun: he was surrounded by German soldiers. Two hours later, he was on another train, this time not a stowaway but a dangerous prisioner. He looked out of the barred window of the train and saw the mountains, with freedom on the other side of them, recede into the distance as he was taken back into the heart of Occupied Europe.
Posted on: Tue, 09 Sep 2014 07:37:48 +0000
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