Nazi-occupied France, 1941. A novelist, Adeline Beaumont was forced to billet a German Officer, Wilhelm Von Müller in her house. Since his arrival, she refused to speak to him as the resistance effort against the occupier. Yet, the barrier between t...
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Adeline was rereading old letters from Louis. They were separated by the war for a year. The Germans had captured him during the battle of Sedan in 1940. He was brought to Germany and incarcerated in the Oflag prison camp. Since then, she had little contact with him because her letters could take a long time to arrive there. She opened a picture album. The longing reflected in her eyes when she looked at him through a black-and-white photograph; he was in a military uniform, wearing a big happy smile that revealed his white teeth. Just like their father, his face had sharp features; high cheek bones, hollow cheeks with a well-defined jaw. One thing looked very much alike from Adeline and Louis was the color of their eyes. She took his photograph out of the picture album and flipped it. There was handwriting at the back: Lieutenant Louis Beaumont, 16 March 1915. "His birthday has already passed," Adeline said.
She leaned back in an armchair, looking out of the window. A peaceful morning light glistened on the path's silvery stone. At the entrance, a copper wind chime tinkled in the wind. Its sound seemed to create a melody. It grew fainter in the air and then the painful silence followed. The house felt lifeless since Louis had gone. She was used to hearing his cheerful laugh when he told jokes. His playful demeanor was a great consolation to Jeanne and her.
In a flash, she remembered farewell moments with him in a train station. It was the last moments before he went to war. He took her into his arms and said, "Please take care of mom while I am away. I'll write to you as much as I can. I'll bring peace back to France and we'll be together at home again." She buried her face into his chest while tears fell onto his uniform. She caressed his back, feeling the softness of its wool cloth. She thought it would no longer be clean as usual. It would be blackened by dust and stained by blood. At that time, she was terribly worried if he would die on the battlefield. She didn't want to lose him like she lost her father (he perished during The Great War in 1918). God had granted her wish. He was still alive, even though he became a prisoner of war.
***
Wilhelm walked out of the German headquarters. He spent his break time in the garden near the village square. Green boxwoods and sweet-smelling carnations encircled the garden area. He sat on the bench, lit a cigarette and enjoyed the serene sound of the water gushing from the fountain. A shadowy figure moved along the flagstone pathway. He was a tall man with blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. His brutal expression looked intimidating to anyone who saw him. After a few seconds later, he called Wilhelm. He turned around and saw Lieutenant Oskar Dietrich standing behind him.
"I thought you were already in Russia," Wilhelm said.
"Well, that's military life. It all depends on orders and the general's whim. At least I still have a chance to enjoy my life before they send me to the frontline."
He sat next to him and lit a cigarette. His cigarette had a sweet, earthy aroma. It reminded him of his uncle's; when Wilhelm was a teenager, he used to teach him to shoot in the forest with a pipe in his mouth.
"Hitler thought he could conquer Russia in a short time, just like he conquered the Western Europe. Some of his generals consider it bullshit. Russia is a vast country: its immense distances and its difficult terrain can cause logistical problems."
"I consider our generals to be defeatist."
"I don't think like that. Hitler has never fought in Russia so he's not knowledgeable about its terrain. General Gerd von Rundsted has already been there. He says the Russian winter is savage, like nothing you have ever been called on to endure. You will freeze to death just like Napoleon's army in 1812," Wilhelm asserted.
Oskar fell silent for a moment, plunged in thought, and then said, "Napoleon was defeated but The Führer will be victorious." He smiled triumphantly.
Above, the sky shimmered a pure azure blue . Wilhelm looked at everything around him: at the entrance to the headquarters, two ordinary soldiers raised their arms in the Hitler salute when an army general in a field-grey uniform with red collar tabs walked past them; on the sidewalk, the French people walked along in the shade of the linden trees with leaves incessantly trembled in the wind. Eventually, his gaze fell upon a young woman in a green shirtwaist dress. He could right away recognize her face and graceful movements. She was Adeline. She came up to an old woman with a black stick in her hand. She held her hand, beckoned to cars to stop and helped her cross the street.
"It's so beautiful to see the kindness left in this world," he was lost in admiration. To him, Adeline was like a natural pearl hidden in the sea; enchanting, precious and scarce. He could find any beautiful woman around the world but the one with the true beauty in her soul like her was extremely hard to find. He would be forever grateful if he could win her heart.
At the same time, Oskar was talking with him. He spoke about his pride in the successive German victory and his notion about the necessity of maintaining the prestige of the victorious army. Every so often, he spoke about the same subject with an arrogant expression and the tone of impassioned voice. "We are Wehrmacht, the armed forces of Great Germany, victory is certain." It was the words he always said at the end of conversation. Wilhelm didn't listen to a single word he said. He regarded him as a broken radio. At this moment, no one could draw his attention except Adeline.
