These were men Lena knew. Her cousin Truus’s husband. Two deacons from church. Three area farmers who were their neighbors. They looked pale and frightened, some of the men trembling visibly. Nazi soldiers strode into the square with three more men —the village baker and his elderly father, and one of Wim’s schoolteachers —adding them to the line until ten men stood in the row.

Lena clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. She knew all about Nazi reprisals. If an act of resistance left a Nazi soldier dead, ten townspeople would be executed in revenge.

Panic filled every inch of her. She was going to be sick. She wanted to run forward and throw herself in front of Pieter to protect him, but there was nothing she could do. She was aware of the other men’s wives gathering around her, weeping and pleading and hugging each other. Truus ran up beside Lena, screaming, “No, no, no . . . oh, please, God . . . no! Don’t let them do this! Please!”

The men were told to kneel. Lena watched Pieter drop to his knees. This couldn’t be happening! It couldn’t be! They were going to execute Pieter! A Nazi officer stepped forward with a revolver in his hand. He shouted for quiet but the weeping continued. His Dutch was very poor, but everyone understood. An Allied plane had crashed during the night, and a crewman was missing.

“One of you knows where he is. I will shoot, one by one, until you tell me.” The officer stepped within a few feet of the men and pointed his gun at the baker.

Terror overwhelmed Lena. Every inch of her trembled and shook. Pieter didn’t know anything about the Allied crewman, she was certain of it. She closed her eyes against the horror, sobbing and pleading with God, bracing for the sound of the first gunshot. Instead, above the cries of the other women, she heard a motorcycle approaching. She opened her eyes. The officer had lowered his gun as he waited for the vehicle to halt.

“We found the crew member,” she heard the rider say in German. “We’ve captured him.”

“And the people helping him?”

“Yes. Them, too.”

The officer turned back to the row of terrified men. “You may go.”

Lena’s arms went limp and she slipped from Truus’s embrace, collapsing to the ground, her legs no longer able to hold her. “Thank You, God . . . thank You!” she sobbed. Then Pieter’s arms were around her, holding her tightly as they both wept. She felt his body trembling.

At last they dried their tears and Pieter helped her to her feet. “Do you think you can walk? Should we go to the manse?” he asked.