“Well, Ollie from Maine, I suggest that you make your way to another carriage, preferably as far to the back of the train as possible. And when the train stops in North Weald, get off quickly and take another train to where you are headed.”

Ollie nodded, then extended his hand.

Susan shook his hand, noticing his grip was firm, yet gentle. As he left, she watched him work his way toward the back of the train and disappear.

Less than an hour later, the train screeched to a stop. Susan got off and saw a group of soldiers placing handcuffs on Ollie. Boar, standing next to the soldiers, barked orders. A wave of culpability struck her. Helplessly, she watched the men place Ollie in the back of a military vehicle and drive away.

CHAPTER 10 - NORTH WEALD, ENGLAND

CHAPTER 10

NORTH WEALD, ENGLAND

The soldiers, led by Flight Lieutenant Boar, took Ollie to what they referred to as the Glasshouse. But to Ollie, it looked like a military jail. They held Ollie’s arms, pinning his back against a stone wall. Boar hit Ollie in the stomach. Ollie’s legs collapsed. He shriveled into a ball, unable to catch his breath. The soldiers lifted Ollie from the ground and slammed him into the wall.

“Not his face,” Boar said. “I don’t want the commander feeling sorry for him.” The lieutenant cocked back his arm and gave Ollie an uppercut to his ribs.

Ollie gasped like a carp out of water—mouth open, sucking for air—but nothing came in. His lungs felt broken.

An air-raid siren sounded, sending the men scurrying out of the cell. Except for Flight Lieutenant Boar.

“You should have stayed home, Yank.” He kicked Ollie in the side.

Ollie groaned, his limbs shriveled into a fetal position to protect his organs. The cell door slammed, then footsteps faded. When he was able to breathe, he crawled into the bunk, if one could call it that; it was a board covered with a mildewed blanket. Outside, antiaircraft fire boomed. He tried to stand. His head buzzed, the room spun, and it all went black.

Ollie woke when his hand fell from the bunk and landed on concrete. He tried stretching his legs, but his feet and head struck the walls of the cell. Shadows of steel bars spread across the floor. It smelled of damp stone and potato bugs, like the root cellar back on the farm.

He suspected it was now morning, even though the cell had no windows. Water trickled from a toilet. Ollie’s mouth was dry. His sides flared with pain. He looked at the cracks in the ceiling and wondered if his ribs were in the same condition. Sounds of approaching footsteps echoed in the corridor. Ollie rubbed his side and prepared himself for another round of punishment.