From the Heart

Part II - Chapter 6: Turning point

A hand waving excitedly in the crowd caught Diane's attention. She gasped in surprise as she recognized her former student. The sixteen-year old boy was openly breaking the law. The teacher in Diane shook her head in disapproval, but the resistant in her beamed with pride. As if reading her mind, the teenager winked conspiratorially. Laughing, Diane waved back. The mischievous look on his freckled face was at odds with his formal attire. Dressed up in a dark suit with a blue, white and red ribbon pinned on his lapel, he had skipped school with his friends and was parading on the Avenue des Champs-Elysées, holding his head high in defiance.

The Germans having a drink on the patios looked up in surprise at the unauthorized Remembrance Day procession. The 11th of November 1918 had been a humiliating day of defeat for them. Forming a V sign with his forefinger and middle finger, the defiant teenager held his hands high in the air to remind his fellow citizens that the enemy could be defeated again. Too young to bear arms, but old enough to fight for freedom, over a hundred students were gathering at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in solemn silence to pay their respects to the fallen.

Screeching tires suddenly shattered the silence. The Germans had arrived in full force. The procession stopped. Students armed only with wreaths were no match for armed soldiers. Diane's student took a bold step forward to confront the troops. Defiance was his only weapon, courage his ammunition. Turning his V sign into one intended to insult, he pointed his middle finger at the Germans in reckless defiance. The obscene gesture had the same impact as a gunshot. Under Diane's horrified gaze, the soldiers jumped on the teenager, violently kicking him to the ground. Gunshots were fired in the air. The peaceful procession instantly dissolved into a stampede. The troops attacked the demonstrators, arresting everyone in sight, and rammed their trucks on the sidewalks, brutally scattering the crowd.

Shoving her way through the screaming, terrorized crowd, Diane found the teenager bleeding and unconscious. He was curled up in a defensive position on a bed of petals, the remnants of a smashed wreath scattered around him. Running to a policeman for help, she was aghast to find that he was more intent on arresting than helping her. Resisting arrest, she stumbled and found herself trapped under trampling feet in the midst of the stampede as she tried to fend off the policeman's attempts to drag her to his van.

Strong hands suddenly forced their way through to her, hit the policeman hard in the face and pulled her to her feet. Julien's worried face came into focus through the veil of panic. Wrapping an arm protectively around her, he led her out of the chaos. Diane's injured student was nowhere in sight. The police had dragged his unconscious body into their van. In collaboration with the Germans, they were arresting teens and adults indiscriminately. Less than an hour after their brutal arrival, the army had cleared the streets.

"We need to get out of here before they arrest us. I know a place where we can hide until morning," said Julien as soldiers skimmed the sidewalks on motorcycles, chasing the last remaining demonstrators.

Avoiding the Germans and the police, Julien and Diane found their way to a small café on a deserted street. The front door and windows were shuttered. Partially hidden by large overflowing garbage bins at the back was an unlocked door. Yanking it open, Julien ushered Diane into a tiny kitchen, lit only by moonlight shining through a narrow window. Fumbling around in the semi-darkness, he found the light switch. A dim lightbulb flickered on.

"You're bleeding!" exclaimed Julien, leading her to the sink.

She winced as he rinsed the blood off her hands and arms under the cold water. She had bloody scratches where she had fallen when the policeman had tried to drag her to his van. Poking around in a pantry, Julien found a clean towel and rinsed it. Then, placing a chair next to the sink for her to sit down, he knelt and gently wiped the blood off her bruised knees and legs. She was exhausted. Taking off his coat, he lay it on the floor so she could lie down. She curled up on his coat, shivering. It was a cold night. He switched off the light and lay down with her, his strong body curling up around her to keep both of them warm. Nestled comfortably against him, she fell asleep.

There is a turning point between two friends drawn to each other when friendship reveals itself as love. For Diane, it happened when she opened her eyes the morning after, curled up in the delicious warmth of his body. A thin ray of light peered through the window, shining a new light on their friendship. She felt his lips pressing lightly against her hair, his body locked protectively around hers. It was not the first time that she had slept in his arms, but it was their first time alone.

"Feeling better?" he whispered in her ear.

Her body aching from lying on a cold hard floor, she pressed closer against him, finding his strength reassuring. Lying on his side behind her, his body felt solid, strong ... and hard! Startled, she jumped to her feet. Something hard and unexpected had suddenly poked at her from behind.

"Sorry!" he apologized, jumping to his feet and grabbing his coat.

Whistling cheerfully, he turned his back to her and put on his coat, but did not seem in the least embarrassed.

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"Yesterday was a turning point," said Julien as the team gathered later that day. "Soldiers assaulted students carrying flowers."

"People thought the war ended with the armistice, but it only brought the war closer to home and gave the enemy an unfair advantage," said George. "It robbed us of our right to defend ourselves with weapons."

"People risked their lives unnecessarily by defying the occupying forces," said Joseph, a father of three young children. "Over a hundred people were arrested yesterday, most of them students. Thank God there were no casualties!"

"Is that what it will take to incite you to fight back?" lashed out Julien in frustration. "All we've done so far is fight words with words. The time to go on the bloody offensive is overdue! Paris is the only occupied city in Europe where the enemy can parade on every street and hang out in cafés and theatres without fear of attack."

"The retaliation will be terrible if we dare to attack just one of them," retorted Joseph. "You don't have a family to take care of! As long as the Germans are not showering us with bullets, I don't give a damn if they walk down the Champs-Elysées with clarinets and drums every day."

"Don't you care about your kids' future?" asked Julien angrily. "It's your duty as a father to fight for freedom and democracy at all costs."

"My duty as a father is to keep my kids safe and make sure they don't go to bed hungry. I won't risk it all for your lofty ideals," replied Joseph defiantly.

"Joseph has a point," said Diane, wisely intervening between the two angry men. "People are struggling to feed their kids. Most people are more concerned with daily survival than fighting for the future. As long as people can just get by, they won't risk their lives."

With growing frustration, Julien looked at the men gathered around him. All of them were former soldiers who had returned to Paris to reunite with their families, not to drive out the occupiers. He could not see on their faces the bloodthirsty anger that consumed him. How could he convince his fellow citizens that freedom was worth its price in blood?

"None of you have seen what the enemy is truly capable of," he said grimly. "Trust me, you will soon."

He had a plan.