Iron Sniper: A World War II Thriller

Chapter Six

Lisette remembered well that summer day when she had met her German soldier.

"Elsa, get away from the road!" she had shouted at her niece, waving at her with a scooping gesture that was universal for "come here." The little girl ran toward her, with her twin brother, Leo, racing after her.

The two children, both five years old, had been tossing rocks into a puddle left in the dirt road by last night's rain. Already, their clothes were spattered with mud. Lisette put her hands on her hips to signal that she had lost patience. It wasn't that she was worried about the mud, but about vehicles. The road was not usually busy, but why take any chances? A speeding German motorcycle or Kübelwagen would not be concerned about a couple of French children getting in the way.

The children dashed toward her, their smiles and laughter making it impossible to be angry with them. Still, caring for her niece and nephew on her own was not easy. Not a day went by that she did not wonder what it would be like to be living in Paris, with her own apartment and friends her own age, instead of isolated on this farm. Even occupied Paris seemed more appealing than this farm.

She sighed. "Here, you can feed the chickens instead," she said, pouring a scoop of grain into both of their hands.

The twins were soon running around the yard being chased by the chickens, eager for a handful of grain. Leo and Elsa squealed with delight.

There had been more chickens, more than a dozen, in fact, but now their flock was down to four birds. It was enough for a few eggs, but not enough for the occasional chicken dinner. Wandering German soldiers had absconded with a few chickens, but the foxes that sneaked in during the night had taken a greater toll. Without Henri there to chase them off with his battered double-barreled shotgun, the foxes had run rampant. He had left the shotgun behind, along with a handful of shells. The Germans had seized almost all guns, but they had allowed farmers to keep their shotguns. Of course, it was almost impossible to find shells anymore.

Though it was an antique, complete with hammers that had to be cocked in order to fire the weapon, she kept the shotgun cleaned and well-oiled. Henri had given her lessons in how to use it, and she had spent an afternoon firing at pumpkins to get a feel for the gun. That exercise had left her with a sore shoulder, but a bit more confidence in her marksmanship. She kept it behind the kitchen door, unloaded, with the handful of shells that remained on a high shelf where the children could not reach them.

Children to mind. Foxes to scare off. And then there was the farm work. Fences to mend. A garden to weed. The barn roof to patch. Everywhere she looked, the land seemed to threaten to take back the farm. The children were such a handful that the heavier chores around the small holding simply hadn't gotten done without Henri.

Henri. She felt a mix of pride, sadness, and resentment toward her brother. Excited by the news of the Allied landing that had finally arrived after four years of German occupation, her older brother had left that fateful June day to join the fighting, leaving his young children in her care. She had not heard from him since. Her sister in law had passed away of a fever not long after the children were born.

She loved the children dearly, but they were a great deal of work and worry.

Watching the children having their fun, it was easy enough to forget that there was a war going on. The Germans based in nearby Argentan left them alone. No one liked being an occupied nation, but the truth was that in the end there had been little to fear from the Germans. If she had been Jewish, it might be a different story, of course. She had heard the whispers and rumors.

She had little interaction with the occupiers, other than to see them passing on the road. The worst part lately had been getting enough to eat.

Lately, food had been running scarce because of the war. She worried that the twins were starting to look thin. Her own clothes felt loose.

As she went about her morning chores in the farmyard, Lisette felt lightheaded. She paused until the dizziness passed. She had skipped breakfast this morning so that the twins could eat.

She had no money to buy food, and besides that, what could she buy? The German soldiers had picked the area clean. Her nearest neighbor, Madame Pelletier, understood Lisette's plight and was as generous as the old woman could be. She had little enough herself. Lisette's other neighbors were mostly elderly farmers who had little to share, or who were too stingy. The German occupation had not always brought out the best in the French.

She and the children moved toward the farmyard behind the cottage, where it would be safer for them to play.

Lisette rounded the corner of the cottage and froze.

A German soldier was crouched over the water pump, filling his canteen. He looked up at Lisette without any particular surprise. He must have heard her and the children nearby. Her eyes flicked to his weapon, a rifle with a telescopic sight. Considering that he seemed to be alone, and that he carried this sort of rifle, it indicated that he was one of the German's Jäger. In French, the formal name was un tireur d'elite, but the term sniper was mostly used. She suppressed a shudder. These Jäger were killers.

The children went to her and hid behind her skirts, as if sensing danger. Even they were not so young that they didn't know a German soldier was trouble.

The soldier saw her look at the rifle, but he went back to filling the canteen. Water came out in a burst when the handle was pumped, but it was not an easy task to pump the handle and then make it around to the spigot to catch the water as it came out. He was just managing. Once the canteen was full, he set it aside and took off his helmet. His hair was matted and sweaty in the heat.

He pumped the handle again and tried to get his head under the flow, but he was just a little too slow to get the full burst of water that arrived with each pump of the handle.

Thinking that it might get rid of him sooner, Lisette approached. She jerked her chin at the handle to signal that she would work the pump, and he nodded.

He stuck his head under the pump and this time, he caught the full stream of the cooling water. Even under the circumstances, Lisette had to admit how good the cascading water looked on this hot day. The soldier sighed with what sounded like relief.

His head dripping, she was surprised when he began stripping off his tunic. His skin was very pale in the sunlight. She could not help noticing that arms and chest were well-formed and muscular. She guessed that they were about the same age, although he might have been just a little younger. He raised both arms to push the hair out of his eyes, revealing blondish hair in his armpits, and she noticed that the only other hair on his body was a single patch of thatch on his chest no bigger than her hand, just where the metal disk of his Hundermarken dangled. She felt a bit of heat come to her cheeks. Was she actually blushing at the sight of this German boy?

Elsa pointed at his pale torso and giggled, but the soldier didn't seem to mind. Grinning now, he nodded at Lisette, indicating that she should work the pump, and he held himself under the water, taking an impromptu bath. Water ran down and soaked the waistband of his trousers. Satisfied, he straightened up and stood dripping in the barnyard. He really wasn't much more than a teenager. Sadly, Lisette suddenly remembered that she wasn't much more than a girl herself. It was a fact that she had forgotten in the face of tending to the twins and the farm. One grew of fast these days.

"Danke," he said. Then, smiling at Leo and Elsa, he asked, "Sind das deine Kinder?"

Even after the years of occupation, Lisette knew maybe a hundred words of German. She caught the word for children.

"C'est ma nièce et mon neveu."

He nodded. “Tante." Aunt. The word was the same in German and in French, although in German it seemed to be pronounced in a manner that gave it two syllables.

She nodded again.

He dressed, pulling on his soiled uniform again, although he seemed reluctant about it. Who could blame him? The sunshine must have felt so good on his pale body. He put on his ugly steel helmet and picked up the rifle. Instantly, he was transformed into a soldier once more.

For the first time, he seemed to really notice Lisette. He looked her up and down. Some sort of calculation was going on behind the soldier's blue eyes, and Lisette did not care for what she saw there. She became acutely aware of how alone and vulnerable she was here on the farm.

"Ton père?" the soldier asked. "Ton mari?"

"Mon frere," she replied in French. "My brother is in the village and will be home soon."

The soldier nodded as if he understood, although it was impossible to tell. Then he patted down his pockets and produced a tin of meat and a package of crackers. He handed them to Lisette and she noticed with surprise that the foodstuffs were marked in English. Where had he gotten those?

His hand dipped into another pocket and produced a chocolate bar the size of a franc note, which he offered to the twins. The heat of the day had warmed the chocolate, and the smell of it after months without any sort of sweets was intoxicating. Wide-eyed, they looked to her for permission, and when she nodded, they grabbed the chocolate as ravenously as the hens had pecked at their corn. Lisette made sure that they thanked him. He might be a German, but the French still minded their manners.

"Dieter," he said, patting his damp chest.

"Lisette," she blurted out, almost by reflex.

He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling.

She felt a bit more heat touch her cheeks, then chided herself. This was a German soldier, for God's sake. It was best to avoid any trouble.

Then the soldier turned and walked off toward the road. Before he rounded the corner of the old house, he looked back over his shoulder for a final glance at Lisette.

He gave her another smile, and then he was gone.