“You were doing exactly as you were trained,” Josie managed, comforting Marie when in fact it should have been the reverse. “You mustn’t blame yourself. It’s what Julian would have wanted. He wouldn’t want you to give up the operation for him.”
Then Josie’s face went stony. “It’s over then,” she said quietly. She lay back, the little strength she had mustered seemingly gone. Marie wanted to argue, but could not. She dropped to the floor of the railcar, squeezing into the spot beside her friend. Her fingers found Josie’s and they sat without speaking amid the sounds of the train clacking over the rails and the piteous moans of women dying.
Josie closed her eyes, seeming to sleep. Watching her, something inside Marie broke. Josie had been the best of them. Yet she lay here, broken, a wizened and suffering near corpse. An eighteen-year-old girl should have young-girl dreams, not be facing the end of her days.
“We could be dancing in London right now,” Marie mused aloud. It was an old joke, one they used to make after the worst days of training at Arisaig House. “A night at the Ritz with one of those American Joes.”
Josie half opened her eyes and managed another faint smile, more of a grimace this time. She tried to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, there was a rattle in Josie’s throat, the unmistakable sound that the end was drawing near.
“Josie...” There was so much Marie wanted to ask about her life and the things she had seen in the field. Josie would know how to move forward, to survive whatever awaited her. But she was already too far gone to answer.
Suddenly there came a rumbling in the distance. An explosion of some sort. A murmur rippled through the car. “Allied bombers,” someone whispered. One woman cheered, another applauded. Could it really be the long-promised liberation? It had been rumored for so long, Marie hardly believed it anymore.
But their joy was short-lived. Another explosion hit, closer this time. Boards fell from the roof of the railcar. Marie covered Josie with her own body to shield her from the debris that rained down. “We’ve been hit!” someone cried. Not yet, Marie thought, but it was only a matter of time. The car wobbled and started to topple on its side, and Marie struggled to hold off the tide of bodies that cascaded toward them.
Then the explosions stopped and the railcar stilled, listing precariously at a tilted angle. The doors opened and the blast of cool air was a welcome relief. “Raus! Mach schnell!” came the order to evacuate. Marie was puzzled. Why should the Germans care if the railcar full of prisoners fell or was hit by a bomb? But as she raised herself up and peered out the window, she could see that the track ahead had been destroyed, making the line impassable.
The other women were clambering up the tilted incline of the railcar now, following orders to exit. But Josie lay on the floor, not moving. Was she dead? “Come, Josie,” Marie pleaded, desperately afraid. She tried to drag Josie, but the sharp angle on which the railcar listed made it impossible.
Spying the two women still inside the railcar, one of the Germans climbed inside. “Out!” he barked, moving closer.
“She’s sick and she can’t move,” Marie cried, pleading for clemency. She instantly realized her mistake. The frail and wounded were refuse to the Germans, deserving not of care but instant disposal.
The German lifted his foot to kick Josie and landed a fierce blow, nearly lifting her whole body. “No!” Marie cried, throwing herself over her friend.
“Go, or you’ll face the same,” the German ordered. Marie did not answer, but held on to Josie even more tightly. She would not abandon her to this fate. Marie felt a whoosh of air as the soldier’s foot swept down again. Pain exploded in her ribs, which were still bruised from the beating she’d suffered at Avenue Foch. She curled into a ball over her friend, bracing herself for another blow, wondering how many she could take. She glanced out of the corner of her eye as the German reached for his gun. So this was how it was to end. At least she was with Josie and not alone.
“I’m sorry,” Marie whispered, thinking of her daughter whom she never should have left at all.
There was a banging sound as another German climbed into the railcar. “Don’t waste your ammunition,” he said to the