“They believe that ‘might makes right,’ Lena.”

The interpreter gestured to Pieter. “You must come and show us.” Lena had no intention of leaving Pieter’s side. Together, they followed the officer around the farm, answering the questions he asked through the translator. Lena heard them first in German, then in Dutch. The soldiers made notes in their ledgers. They even tromped around to Lena’s kitchen garden, writing everything down. They counted piglets and cows and chickens, demanding to know how many gallons of milk the farm produced each day, how many eggs the chickens laid. They inspected the tractor and the farm truck and made note of Lena’s bicycle, the children’s bicycles. They pointed to the windmill and asked how many bags of grain it could grind. Pieter tried to explain that it was used to pump water for irrigation, but Lena wasn’t sure from the interpreter’s translation that he’d understood.

The inspection ended with what the officer probably thought was a stirring speech. “We hope for your cooperation,” he said. “Other nations are populated with inferior races, but we consider the Dutch to be our brothers, members of the Aryan race. Our victories are your victories. When we prosper, you will also prosper. Working together, we will build the great Third Reich.”

Lena longed to shout, Never! How could he expect her people to forget what the Nazis had done to Rotterdam?

Pieter remained silent after the translator finished. He seemed to sense that she was about to explode and he took her hand, signaling her to be quiet. “Tell your captain,” he said at last, “that I think you will find it impossible to befriend a country and a people who were subdued by brute force. You’re like a bully who marches onto the playground in the middle of a friendly children’s game and grabs the ball, threatens all the other children, and then demands that they play with him. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The interpreter turned to the captain and mumbled a few words, but he didn’t repeat Pieter’s reply, which was probably for the better.

Two hours after they arrived, the Nazis returned to their vehicles. “Good thing our farm is on a dead-end road,” Pieter said as the roar of motorcycles faded and the dust cloud settled. “We’ll always hear them coming.”

“What’s going to happen to us, Pieter? To our family and our village? I’m glad Wim and Maaike are on summer break, but oh, how I wish Ans was home!” Having the Nazis nearby was like knowing a dangerous beast was on the prowl, and she longed to hold her children close where she could see them and protect them. But as Pieter had once told her, the illusion that she was in control was just that —an illusion. A foreign army occupied her country. The Netherlands was no longer free.