Pain flared through Bruno’s arm. As the Frenchman attempted to snatch the bayonet, Bruno slammed the rifle over the man’s trachea, pinning him beneath the water.
The Frenchman thrashed his limbs. But as seconds passed, his energy evaporated and his body turned still.
Bruno, his legs quivering, sloshed to the side of the trench and collapsed. He placed the rifle over his lap, and then applied pressure to his bleeding hand. He peered toward the edge of the crater and waited for more enemy soldiers, the machine-gun fire to cease, or a German counterattack. But long after sunset none of them had come.
Although he’d killed hundreds, if not thousands, of Allied troops as a member of the Disinfection Unit, he’d never truly felt the consequences of his actions until now. Killing a man with his bare hands had shaken him. Echoes of the soldier’s gurgles filled his head. He wondered if the man had a wife and children, which compounded his agony. French rockets shot up light flares with attached parachutes. The crater’s water became illuminated, revealing the submerged body of the Frenchman, and then faded away as the flare floated to the ground. Bruno, cold and gutted, lowered his head to his knees and he wished for an end to it all.
At sunrise, a German counterattack reclaimed the front-line trench that had been lost to the Allies. A scout unit, comprised of three soldiers, located Bruno in the crater. They helped him, weak and shivering, to his feet and gave him sips of warm coffee from an insulated flask. As the soldiers were aiding him out of the hole, he hesitated.
“Wait.” Bruno turned and waded into the frigid water. He reached inside the French soldier’s coat, the body stiff with rigor mortis, and retrieved a wallet. Inside a soggy leather flap was identification,Soldat 1.eme—Jules Bonnet, and a worn family photograph of the Frenchman and a woman who appeared to be his wife, holding a baby in a lace dress and bonnet. His hands trembled.God, forgive me.He placed the soldier’s wallet into his pocket, and then slogged out of the shell hole, making a silent vow to do something for the man’s family after the war.
CHAPTER21
OLDENBURG, GERMANY—DECEMBER13, 1916
Awintry gust bit at Anna’s cheeks as she stepped through the threshold of Norbie’s workshop. She squinted, shielding her eyes from blowing snow, and turned to Max.
“It’s going to be a rough walk to school,” she said. “It’s snowing heavily, and there’s several inches on the ground.”
“We can make it.” Max wrapped a scarf around his neck, tucking the ends into his wool coat, then patted Nia’s side. “Ready, girl?”
Nia gave a whole-body shake, as if she’d been given a bath, and then stood at attention with her chin up.
Max clasped the handle to Nia’s harness. “Forward.”
Nia padded ahead, her paws sinking in the snow.
Anna locked the door behind her. She paused, watching Nia guide Max over the dark, predawn street.This might be our last day of training together. Fleck is going to terminate me or, at the very least, demote me.A lump formed in the pit of her stomach. She’d rehearsed her explanation for bartering for food—when she was supposed to be training—but it likely didn’t matter. Fleck was a stickler for rules, punctuality, and precise technique with his trainers. She held little hope that Fleck would understand or take pity with their lack of rations. If anything, she hoped that she’d be able to persuade Fleck that it was she, not Max, who had failed him.
Although she’d slept little, it wasn’t due to fretting over saving her job. She’d spent much of the night awake in bed, buried under layers of blankets to keep warm, thinking about how beautifully Max played the piano. He’d only performed the one piece, but the angelic resonance of the strings replayed over and over in her head. She was overjoyed that Max might be on his way to regaining his ambition to play music. Even if her days of training were over, it was worth it, knowing that she and Nia played a small part in Max’s journey to be a pianist.With Nia’s help, Max will live a life of independence doing what he loves most.
A few streets away, they met up with Emmi, whose thick wool scarf was wrapped around her face, leaving a slit for her eyes.
“It’s a day like this that makes me happy to be inside cleaning kennels, rather than playing on the obstacle course,” Emmi jested.
“Ja,” Anna said.After meeting with Fleck, I might be working with you in the barn, or searching for a new job.
“Good morning, Emmi,” Max said.
Emmi adjusted her scarf to uncover her face. “Hi, Max.”
“How’s Ewald?” he asked, staring ahead.
“That’s sweet of you to ask,” Emmi said. “I received a letter from him last night. His spirits are good, and he expects to be home on leave in the summer.”
“That’s wonderful,” Max said.
Emmi glanced to Anna. “Any news from Bruno?”
Anna’s shoulder muscles tightened. “Nein.”
“I’m sure you’ll hear from him soon,” Emmi said.
Anna nodded. She shuffled her boots through unplowed snow. To the east, the horizon glowed behind ashen clouds.
Emmi, as if she were attempting to change the subject, dusted snow from Max’s coat. She turned to Anna and grinned. “You’re slacking on your job, Anna. Max is turning into a snowman.”
Anna lowered her head.
