Ruth lowered her hand to her lap. “Winnie-the-Pooh.”
He nodded. “For two weeks during visitation hours, I read and reread the story aloud to her. Once she was able to breathe on her own, she was released from the machine. The polio had left her unable to walk, and doctors told her that she’d likely live her life in a wheelchair. But Nora proved them wrong. Through grit, determination, and months of rehabilitation, she learned to walk with the use of leg braces and calipers.”
“I’m so glad. Nora sounds like an incredible young woman.”
“She is.”
She nudged his leg with her shoe. “You’re a good brother.”
He smiled, feeling grateful for her kind words.
For an hour, they talked about their families, Ruth’s passion for music, and his ardor for aviation. For the first time since the war erupted, he felt at peace. Eventually, they grew tired and Ruth rested her head on his shoulder. His body relaxed as he took in her warmth. It feels wrong to leave you, but I’m required to return to my squadron. He lowered his cheek to her hair and tried to forget about their divergent paths. He gradually drifted to sleep, but at dawn he was jolted awake by the sound of German aircraft engines.
CHAPTER 23
REIMS, FRANCE—MAY 17, 1940
The distinctive drone of German dive bombers roused Jimmie from his slumber. He shot open his eyes and nudged Ruth, asleep on his shoulder. “Stukas.”
Ruth awoke and gasped.
They scuttled to the edge of the tree’s canopy and scanned the twilight sky, strewn with pinkish-gray clouds. A swarm of planes, flying at several thousand feet above the ground, approached the airfield.
Jimmie’s adrenaline surged. He looked down the hill at the ambulance, fifty meters away, and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Lucette!”
Ruth raced down the slope.
Jimmie sprinted behind her as the buzz of propellers grew. His arm jostled in his sling, sending sharp pangs through his wrist. He fought back the pain and forced his legs to run faster.
“Lucette!” Ruth shouted.
The rear doors of the ambulance flung open, and Lucette jumped to the ground.
High above, the Stukas pitched their noses and dived toward the earth. Their sirens screamed as they narrowed in on the airfield.
Jimmie stumbled and nearly fell, but continued his sprint. “Take cover!”
Lucette helped Pierre and Aline to climb out of the vehicle. Ruth and Jimmie reached them, and the group ran toward the side of the airfield. Pierre struggled to run, so Jimmie wrapped his good arm around the old man’s torso to quicken his pace. At the edge of the airfield, they clambered down a steep slope to a drainage ditch, filled with ankle-deep rainwater. They gulped air to catch their breath and Pierre, his face pale, leaned his back against the grass-covered slant.
“Grandpapa!” Aline darted to Pierre’s side.
The Stukas leveled off, forty meters above the ground, and soared over the airfield without dropping a bomb. At the end of the runway, they ascended and flew southward.
“They’re leaving,” Ruth said, peeking her head up from their hole.
“Maybe they’re satisfied that the airfield is destroyed,” Lucette said.
The Stuka squadron continued to fly away, but seconds later one of their aircraft broke from the pack and veered around.
A wave of dread washed over Jimmie. “We’ve been spotted.”
The sole Stuka dived toward the airfield. Its siren howled, and its engine grew to an ear-piercing roar.
The group crouched in the ditch, soaking their shoes and clothing in mucky water. Jimmie, as if by reflex, shielded Aline with his body.
The Stuka fired its machine guns. Bullets sprayed over the ambulance, puncturing holes in its roof and hood. It pulled up and swooped around for another attack, but instead of targeting the ambulance, it narrowed its sights on them.
Lucette’s eyes widened. “Mon Dieu. It’s heading toward us.”
“We need to split up,” Jimmie said, his eyes locked on the approaching Stuka. “When I say go—Ruth and Lucette run to the right. Pierre, Aline, and I will run to the left.”
“Okay,” Ruth said.
The Stuka, its engine blaring, barreled down on the airfield.
“Get ready.” Jimmie clasped the girl’s hand. “I got you.”
Aline gripped his fingers.
Jimmie fought the urge to run and waited patiently until the German pilot committed his plane’s trajectory.
The Stuka’s machine guns barked. Streams of bullets exploded over the ground ahead of them.
“Go!” Jimmie darted away with Aline and Pierre, while Ruth and Lucette dived to the right.
Bullets blasted the ditch, spraying mud and bits of rock over their clothing, and the Stuka roared past them.
“Is everyone all right?” Jimmie asked.
