“‘I can’t take anyone else?’
“‘No. It’s possibly a good idea, but I won’t risk others. I relieve you of all duties except what you propose. You’ll do that and only that from now forward. Twelve hours in the forest every day, whether in the light or in the dark is up to you. Take the armament you need. Obviously, for what you propose, because we don’t have the new ones, one of our radios would be too heavy. So be sure to include a flare or two in case you make contact and need help. You’ve come up with a good idea. Let’s try it.’
“I’d spend twelve hours on my patrols – in daylight, at night, or in combination, setting out, for example, at zero three hundred and returning at fifteen hundred, armed with a submachine gun, six magazines of ammunition, two grenades, a pistol, and a bayonet. Depending upon the season, I carried a water bottle or two, chocolate, and bread. It was most difficult in the snow, sometimes impossible, but the snows were rare and would melt fast. And because the enemy knew less of snow than we did, it suppressed his movement better than if we had had two armies rather than just one.
“Nothing happened, until it did. I was patrolling around the mountain in daylight. This was so long ago – fifty-six years now – that although I remember the smallest pertinent details, I don’t remember the season. But it must’ve been either late fall, winter, or early spring, because I know I was wearing a sweater. I’m certain of that, because I have a memory of the images. Our uniforms were brown, as for most of the country that was the best camouflage, but up on the mountain the one good thing our commander did was get us green fatigues. I could stand in the trees, and if I were still, because the boughs in many places were so dense, you would never see me.
“Although at that point I hadn’t run into any infiltrators, I was always alert, especially when I moved, which is when one is most vulnerable. Waiting for someone to pass offers an inestimable advantage. When you move, you announce your presence in sight and sound. I moved cautiously and intermittently. It was a beautiful day, under a blue sky, with a breeze. The ground was quite dry. I had my customary armament, the submachine gun in my hands not quite ready to fire (in case I fell). I was unhappy that day probably because of some argument with other soldiers or officers. There was a lot of resentment and frustration.
“I would move, then stop to look and listen. A few meters, then a few minutes of motionless silence. During one of these pauses I thought I heard whispered conversation. It was hard to be sure that it was not the wind. As I readied the gun, my pulse raced and for a moment it was deafening as blood pounded through my arteries. But I let myself calm down, and moved forward a step or two at a time. Straight ahead, I saw through a mass of pine boughs the shape of two people, their clothing illuminated brightly in the sun. That was stupid. In the woods you have to avoid pools of light. They were talking in low whispers.
“I scanned all around. The last thing I wanted was to be shot or knifed by others whom I hadn’t seen while my attention was focused elsewhere. After a while, I was satisfied that the two who were talking were the only ones present. I don’t know how long it took, but I moved toward them very slowly, making no sound, until I was on one side of a thick pine and they on the other. One of them was an old Arab, armed with a pistol holstered on a Sam Browne belt. The other was a girl of about twenty, French, at least European, with blue eyes and blond hair. She was wearing a black-and-white checkered kaffiyah draped around her neck, the way so many young people in Paris do now. The image will never leave me. I was eighteen. The moment I saw her I not only desired her, I actually fell in love, and it knocked all the fear out of me. How crazy can you be at that age? I don’t know, because I think I could do it now.”
“Falling in love?”
“Yes, even with someone who wants to kill me. The Arab was sketching a map, the girl drawing a picture of our base. Both would point up at the fortifications, comment, and make adjustments to their work. This was in a military area that was clearly off-limits. I knew they were the enemy, but I couldn’t see her as that. I can still feel my attraction to her.
“They were so absorbed in what they were doing that they didn’t see me until I was right in front of them. I didn’t do anything special, I just walked to where they were. Then, when they saw a French soldier, his submachine gun pointed at them, two meters away, their shock and fear bled into sadness and despair. But the old man was clever and experienced, and his despair vanished when he saw how I was looking at the girl.
“At the same moment that I commanded them, in Arabic and then French, to put their hands in the air, he rose, pulling her up and ahead of him. Though she was still shocked and scared she held tightly onto her pad and pencils. This all happened quickly. He drew his pistol, slowly raised it, and pointed it not quite at me. I took aim at him as best I could, but she covered most of his body. They began to walk backward, occasionally almost tripping.
“Though she was distressed, she was not a hostage. I followed, my finger on the trigger, as it had to be. I was afraid that if I tripped I would kill both of them, and I couldn’t see where I was walking, because I couldn’t take my eyes off them for even a second. Again and again, I commanded them to stop, but they wouldn’t. I wanted to shoot him. He was armed, a spy, disobeying my order. But they were moving, all I had was a fairly inaccurate submachine gun, and the only target was a portion of his head.
“Not only had I resolved to die myself rather than kill an innocent, but although she was hardly an innocent I loved her. I was as unhappy that I wouldn’t get to speak to her as I was unhappy that they were getting away. I followed for a while, but then I let them go. To have shot them would have been horrible. I knew what it would be like to see her dying on the ground. Even him. I couldn’t kill them.