The Foxhole Victory Tour by Amy Lynn Green

Author:Amy Lynn Green
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction;Christian fiction;Novel;FIC042030;FIC014050;FIC026000
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2023-11-09T00:00:00+00:00

21

APRIL 13, 1943

ALGIERS, ALGERIA

Leaning against the brick wall, Maggie had a new appreciation for their British allies and what they endured during the Blitz. Being underground should make her feel safer, but even here, the sirens worked their way into her head, setting her every nerve on edge.

A glance around made it easy to tell the military personnel from the civilians, even though most were in nightwear. The army and navy men were the ones who stood or sat stoically, some even chatting casually with fellow officers. Either they refused to show fear in front of their comrades, or they had simply gotten so used to bombings and death that hiding in the wine cellar of a fancy hotel during an air raid was a nonevent.

Maggie had practically been shoved against Gabriel and Howie in the press of fleeing hotel guests in the hallway, and they’d managed to signal Douglas to join them. “At least if we have to be trapped here, it’s with friends and not strangers,” Gabriel surprised her by saying.

Maggie agreed that, in a way, they were all friends by now. Oh, sure, Howie was a character, Catherine was Miss Prim, Judith bossed everyone around, Douglas had his rulebook and routines, and Gabriel was, well . . . Gabriel. But after so many weeks of being in one another’s company almost all the time, Maggie was beginning to like them in spite of herself.

Once the sirens cut off, Howie kept up a near-constant mutter of swearing under his breath at the hotel staff for packing them in like sardines or not having the decency to let people smoke or whatever their latest infraction was.

“Won’t he ever pipe down?” Maggie complained in a low tone to Gabriel, pinching the bridge of her nose to still an oncoming headache. “It’s not like any of us are comfortable, but the hotel is doing the best they can.”

“Go easy on him,” Gabriel said, his voice lower still. “This is harder for him than he lets on.”

Of course. Howie had served in the Great War. How many times had he heard sounds like these as he went over the top of the trenches and charged into no-man’s-land? Only now did Maggie notice the way Howie’s shoulders tensed every time there was a sudden noise, the deep breaths as he tried to calm himself, the hands jammed in his bathrobe pockets so no one could see them shake.

The ground underneath her trembled with an impact, and several gasps filled the quiet. Somewhere, a child began to cry.

“Not a direct hit to us.” Howie’s voice was raspy and far from his usual bluster. “They’re probably aiming for the harbor.”

Sure, sure. They wouldn’t take aim on civilian targets, would they? Still, Maggie had noticed her share of boarded-up windows, crumbled garden walls, and even whole roofless buildings that testified to the fact that collateral damage was part of life here along the Algerian coast.

Next to them, a few officers playing cards by candlelight grumbled a complaint as Judith strode through their draw pile, wedging her way between Maggie and Howie.

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