"The next three hundred metres I ran in record time and turning in from the far corner I saw a small German van swerving wildly. It was coming out on my right, hoping it was empty I turned swiftly around it and then acting nonchalantly, like a pedestrian passing by, I tried to jump in the rear to escape my pursuers altogether.
To my surprise, it was packed full with German soldiers holding on to their rifles, maybe called out for my capture! I knew I couldn't run too far now and turned into the street from which they had come. They were shouting and screaming at the driver behind me to stop. At this moment, the street looked long and empty making a perfect target for a hunted animal, me in this case.
That's the way I felt, like a hunted animal. My hand was still bleeding after rubbing it on my face to keep the hair out of my eyes. Otherwise, I could have jumped the portals. There was only one thing left to do, jump over the first fence, which was a privet I saw on the right, which I did and ran to the rear of the building entering the kitchen of this corner house.
Once in the house to the complete surprise of both of us, there was a housewife pressing her clothes on the ironing board. One can imagine our expressions! Only my presence of mind could save the situation now. So, speaking in French, "Les Boches me cherchent je veux me cache". Her instant panic was enough to tell me that it wasn't going to work as she dropped her iron and started screaming. I was done for where I stood!
Coming out faster than I had gone in I trusted my luck. I headed towards the wall of the next house climbing onto a coal box and leaning on my hand now, which was feeling very painful. I was in a small cul-de-sac and luckily for me a back door was open which I quickly entered still hearing that silly woman screaming which gave my whereabouts away and impeded my escape.
I never understood her attitude, unless she was struck by sudden shock and fear which she couldn't overcome. This situation proved to be part of the bad dream I had had in Belin Belier when I slept near the tomb stones and still my struggling was far from over. One against so many, this seemed to be the story of my destiny!
I was completely encircled now and upwards was the only way left to me as I climbed the stairs. Looking down from the first turn I could see their shadows
from a covered position in the women's garden. I had no weapon with me except my knife to fight. My only chance was the roof. I couldn't reach the gutter without being an open target as I would have to lean out and become visible. So, I tried the doors on the next landing. The doors were all closed and none of my hurling myself at the doors was of any help, far too strong for me.
This was a dead end for me; suddenly feeling very tired and helpless by the obstructions in my way, plus the loss of blood and all the commotion around me, I decided to go down, as a last resort, very indifferently. I was just sorry if my Mother were to hear that her son had been shot. I could still see her intense look when she said her good-byes as if to remember me for all time.
This was it now, decision without fear, descending calmly down the stairs and reaching the bottom. Wondering which way to go, the front or the rear.
I noticed a plain clothes Gestapo agent lurking at the back door which made up my mind. He had the door half open now and was slowly raising his luger and straightening the barrel.
I put my hands up in the air quickly, claiming to give up, but looking him right in the eyes now and I saw doubt and fear! Walking forward at the last moment I jumped on the door holding it and pushed the luger back upwards. He pulled and no shot came out of the weapon. The surmise was that there was no bullet in the chamber or that he had forgotten to release the safety catch on both occasions. At this moment, this was not for me to analyse!
Was it Russian roulette that had saved my life or divine intervention, my time had not yet come. The front door eventually gave way under the repeated battering of the Gestapo's rifle butts but nobody could shoot with me being in the middle. Before such a thing was contemplated, I was kicked into the street before the line up of soldiers whose rifles were pointed straight at me.
I found I was the centre of attention. The French people were everywhere behind the soldiers, jeering them and supporting me like their champion. I felt proud and patriotic. The Germans too were aware of it and I could feel their admiration. I was handed over to two uniformed Gestapo, grinning again, they were always doing that! They grabbed my arms and hands and tried to turn them on my back, which I resented as they hurt me pushing them far too high. The right hand, I managed to drag back and out with the strength that was left in it, it was my bleeding hand. I took the lapel of the Gestapo's coat and it got smeared with my blood. The French onlookers put their arms up and gave me a round of applause!
The Gestapo looked at his blood stained coat and swore at me more frustrated than ever now! That was the best recommendation I could get. I walked proudly back to the hotel, my hands free just like the general in Eben Emaille.
Once inside all hell broke loose and all the pent up feelings of these cruel people were released. They jumped on me with a sadistic and revengeful unison, thumping, beating and pushing me with about everything they could lay their hands on, from truncheons, belts with "God Mit Uns", on and sticks. The ones wearing coats were the worst of all keeping it up until they were completely out of breath.
I didn't fall down or lose consciousness but instead become senseless to it, every extra beat became very heavy for me. I was beyond pain, switched off.
Their amazement at that was higher than mine. I was just dazed and sullen, almost wondering what all the fuss was about......." They started telling me that they could have killed me and that they were such crack shots and that they had aimed at my hand, which seemed to me very clever considering I was a moving target! Also, I was congratulated on my bravery.
Short of awarding me the Iron Cross they then stopped their false flattery and were getting ready to carrying me off downstairs to the converted cells or dungeons......."
To be continued ...
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