OP-DEC: Operation Deceit

Chapter 29

Packed into another black staff vehicle, Claire and her family rushed away from the city, guarded by both Carsten and Kohl. They emerged from the smoking wreckage of the city into a small village that pressed its desperate existence to the water's edge. Standing on the banks of the legendary Rhine, they waited for a boat to carry them across. Claire had learned of the tributary in school, back when it existed in a fairytale. Now she stood in its tall grass among its people making her own story.

Claire studied the faces of the people, slowly walking just off the dirt lane. Each person seemed equally curious of her, as she stretched her legs for the first time in weeks. Some she recognized as soldiers, others as wayward civilians. No matter who she saw, the signs of war marked each of them, some worse than herself. She folded her arms and blankly peered into the village. A tug on the makeshift belt skirting her waist caught her attention. A brown-haired German soldier smiled up at her as he sat on his discarded pack. Then all the men of the unit grinned. The first man said something she couldn't understand. Her brow knitted. He laughed and spoke again, slower and more forcefully. His dark eyes glinted deviously.

Carsten swiftly appeared at her side. His fingers twined around her elbow and he rushed her away from the soldiers. Their laughter rose amid their comments. Carsten shouted something over his shoulder at them. He looked just as angry as the night he'd helped Father kidnap her. The soldiers immediately fell silent. The one who'd touched her mumbled something she assumed was an apology. He gave Carsten a salute to placate him. Claire wondered how they always knew he was one of them.

"What-" Claire began, immediately stopped by Carsten's hand clamped over her mouth.

"Don't speak," Carsten whispered. "Too dangerous to let them know you're American."

Claire nodded, seeing the ice in his eyes once more. He released her, while the soldiers who observed them fought fits of laughter, snickering and shaking behind half-hidden smiles. The first man vied for attention more than any of them. He grinned and then winked at her presumptuously. Claire lifted her nose in the air, unable to bear the sight of the men or their uniforms. She rolled her eyes, realizing she wore the uniform too. Her cheeks flushed, imagining what they must think. No wonder they were forward with her.

With Carsten's urging, Claire joined her aunt, who sat in the tall grass along the banks of the river. Sitting beside a river that slowly snaked its way through green fields and the hills of a quaint village usually presented a relaxing moment; however, Claire's heart pounded in her chest. The proximity of the German people and their soldiers made her frightfully anxious. It was worse when they whispered and stole suspicious glances. Kohl and Carsten paced the swath of grass like guards at a prison camp. They were the only ones standing between her and the Germans.

On the horizon, smoke billowed into the sky from a fire in the city. A gray haze hung over them. There was nothing left to make it anything less than a nightmare. Claire pulled pieces of grass from the ground, studying them to pass the time. A wildflower bloomed beside her knee. The tiny white blossom appeared as desperate as she felt. She refused to pluck it, hoping the gesture of compassion would be extended to her.

"Ah!" Kohl exclaimed. "There's our man."

Claire followed his line of sight toward the river. A small fishing boat throttled toward their shore from the opposite bank. They would board next to make the crossing. She pitied the many civilians waiting, knowing more would surely arrive. She wondered if they truly believed they could escape the bombs by switching sides of a river, as if the water was an insurmountable barrier for their enemy. She looked back to the flower, now the beloved object of a tiny bee, and recalled how she had thought the ocean was an insurmountable barrier only a few short weeks ago. Yet the hand of her foe reached her on those seemingly safe shores. The haven they sought was no more than a sandcastle waiting to be toppled.