In The Line Of Sight

Honor In Vengeance

We shall defend our island whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on beaches, landing grounds, in fields, in streets and on the hills. We shall never surrender. - Winston Churchill.

The once green and blessed lands of the French countryside that nourished and fed its inhabitants for generations had become a victim of collateral damage. Every bush, tree and flower had witnessed death and massacre. Poppies, lilies and bluebells blow in the wind shivering with fear to the roots as they feel the land being beaten by shells.

These are hard times. The North of France had been occupied by the ruthless invading force of Nazis led by Adolf Hitler. Threatening to creep southward a new government was formed in France under General Petain. Having formed a treaty with the Nazis the southern Francs were forced into fascism in order to save their skins.

 Neighbours murder each other over disagreements and people cower in the shadows. Pockets of militia are beginning to form around the tattered country. Before the war I was just a humble farmer. I had my cattle and my crops to tend to throughout the years. With no family but my younger brother to occupy myself with I withdrew into a more sullen character.

He enlisted at the start of the war without my permission. I came home after having spent many hours on the plough only to find him in army uniform. He chose his path himself and there was nothing I could do to stop him. I only mustered enough control to not hold him back and protect him. To this day I regret ever letting him leave my side.

Months went by as I waited for news on his whereabouts or his actions. The farm became my therapy as I filled my thoughts with other matters. Aside from farming I would take out my day’s frustration with my rifle. To say I am talented with the damned tool would be an understatement. I used the art of stealth while hunting in the forests for food silently stepping on twigs and hearth to find a good line of sight.

I was a quiet man even then. Oblivious to the dangers my brother faced my life continued to be monotonous. On one foggy morning I received a letter with a strange waterproof wax coating on it to protect it from the weather. Inside it there was a telegram informing me that my beloved brother was presumed KIA (killed in action) after having been parachuted into France.

From that moment on my life changed. After picking up some minor supplies and completely securing the house well, hiding all the valuables, I sold the cattle. With one last parting Glance at the Farm that had sheltered me throughout my orphaned childhood I turned in the direction of a new life, one of vengeance, love and war.

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