Flame of Resistance by Tracy Groot

Author:Tracy Groot
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / Historical, FICTION / Historical
ISBN: 9781414373775
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2012-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

At first Tom had dreaded the meetings with Brigitte. Now the days between began to drag. Not that he wasn’t without occupation. Rousseau gave him the occasional errand to keep Tom coming and going so his presence in the neighborhood would be noted. Once he made Tom go to the cinema.

He also had Tom keep up a minimal pretense as Rommel’s watchdog of Dutch conscripts. Rousseau provided him with a list of benign questions, and twice he had been to the Cimenterie office to interview conscripts—twice, he met with men whose open hostility baffled him at first, until he put himself in their shoes. Anyone who spoke fluent Dutch and wore a German uniform had to be a traitor. They themselves were slaves, conscripted to labor for the Atlantic Wall. They had no choice. Major Kees Nieuwenhuis had a choice. He should have chosen hard labor. He chose to lick Hitler’s boots.

This morning Rousseau decided Tom needed to be seen with him. They would walk together as if Tom had asked Rousseau to show him the sights. A tall blond in a German officer’s uniform and a short well-dressed Frenchman provoked looks quickly averted—just the sort of thing Rousseau said he wanted. Let them pity poor Monsieur Rousseau, those who knew him, let them wonder what had happened that he should come under what was surely unfair scrutiny. It was exactly the sort of diverting nuance some Resistance cells needed; summon a bit of attention in order to deflect it. It didn’t make a lot of sense to Tom, but this was what was explained to him when they set out on an excursion Rousseau would later come to regret.

They had been walking for an hour in the city of Caen, strolling through winding narrow streets, Rousseau pointing out historical landmarks, mostly abbeys and very old churches: the Church of St. Pierre just outside the Château de Caen in the heart of the city, dating to the thirteenth century, the Church of St. Gilles, the Church of Notre-Dame-de-Froide-Rue. He was just pointing out another when they came upon a scuffle beside an awning-covered newspaper stand in a marketplace.

A German soldier and two men wearing Milice-insignia caps stood around a man on his knees in the gutter. Each time the man tried to rise, one of the three booted him down. He had a bloody nose, a bloody lip, and a bloody scrape on his chin, as if he’d been shoved face-first into the pavement. After one final kick he stayed on his knees in the gutter, dripping spittle and blood.

“What are they doing?” Tom whispered, horrified.

“Keep walking.”

Tom tried, but he couldn’t. He stopped even with the group, watching openly while everyone else—some gathered at the newspaper stand, some standing in doorways, some at windows above—watched furtively.

“Keep walking,” Rousseau hissed.

Then came a thin wail, and attention went to an old man with no coat, wispy gray hair lilting in his rush to the group. Anguished, he tried to get to the man in the gutter, but one of the Milice pushed him back.

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