Echoes Page 0,118

drove straight over the fields and bumped along, without saying a word.

When they got there, there were two other trucks, which they parked in a clump of trees. There were eight men in all, and Amadea. They said nothing to each other. Jean-Yves handed her a small jar of shoe polish, and she put some on her face. If they got caught, it would give them away, but it was better to black out their faces. And as they heard a drone in the sky, the men began to spread out and then run. Minutes later they took out their flashlights and signaled to the plane. It was only seconds before she saw a parachute come slowly down. There was no man attached to it, just a large bundle, drifting slowly to earth, as they turned out the flashlights and the plane flew on. That was it. When the parachute landed near the trees, they all ran toward it. They unclipped the parachute, and one of the men buried it in the field as quickly as he could. The others took the bundle apart. It was filled with ammunition and guns, and they loaded them into the trucks. Twenty minutes later they had all dispersed, and she and her two companions were heading back to the farmhouse. They had already wiped the shoe polish off their faces.

“That's how it's done” was all Jean-Yves said. He had handed her a rag to wipe her face, and it looked clean again. It had been a remarkably smooth operation, and she had been impressed. They made it look easy, and it went off with the precision of a ballet. But she knew it wasn't always that way. Sometimes accidents happened. And if the Germans caught them, they'd be shot, as an example to the town. It happened all over France, and had happened to his brothers, whom she had prayed for the night before, just as she had promised him she would.

“Do they usually land, or just drop things off?” Amadea asked quietly, wanting to know more about their work and what would be expected of her.

“It depends. Sometimes they parachute men in. If they land, they have to take off again in less than five minutes. It's a lot dicier then.” She could well imagine it would be.

“What do you do with the men?”

“It depends. Sometimes we hide them. Most of the time they take off. They're on missions for the British. It's harder getting them out. Sometimes they get hurt.” It was all he said on the ride back. And Georges said nothing. He was watching Amadea and Jean-Yves. He teased him about her after they left. They had been friends for a long time, and been through a lot together. They trusted each other completely.

“You like her, don't you?”Georges asked him with a grin.

“Don't be stupid. She's a nun,” Jean-Yves growled back at him.

“She is?” Georges looked shocked. “She doesn't look like a nun.”

“That's 'cause she's not wearing the dress. She probably looks like one when she does, and the hat. You know, all that stuff.” Georges nodded, impressed.

“Is she going back?” He thought if she did, it would be too bad. And so did Jean-Yves.

“She says she is,” Jean-Yves said as they drove back to the farm where they lived. They were farmhands on a neighboring farm.

“Maybe you can change her mind.” Georges grinned as they got out, and Jean-Yves didn't comment. He had been wondering the same thing.

The object of their interest was on her knees at that moment, thanking God that their mission had gone well. She had a moment of wondering how proper it was to be thanking God for helping them to bring guns in, which were likely to kill people. But there seemed to be no other choice at the moment, and she hoped He'd understand. She stayed on her knees for a long time that night, examining her conscience, as she had in the convent, and then she went to bed.

She was up before six, and went out to milk the cows, as she had learned to do. She had breakfast ready when her hosts got up. They ate a simple breakfast of fruit and porridge, and fake coffee. But it was a feast compared to what she had eaten for the earlier part of the year. She still thanked God every morning and night for bringing her safely to France. She sat pensively that morning, thinking of the mission she had participated