I. Isles les Villenoy

His heart was racing and the expression on his face looked like someone had rammed a dagger into his ribs. There he stood now, in November 1940, in the middle of France. He was twenty-one years old and he was actually convinced that the war in France was over for him. The newspapers and reports on the radio were full of news about victorious units and rapid advances in all regions and on all front lines, enemies who were fleeing and the superiority of German weapons technology.
Even the air raids by the British on industrial plants did not give them any relief and so in the end the British only suffered considerable losses.
The hasty withdrawal and the subsequent surrender of the French armed forces gave Piet the impression that no one could stop the German army. In the first few days of his mission he saw how difficult it was when the front line was advancing faster than the supply was coming. So it indicated everything for everyone to be home again by the end of the year. The question of who was responsible for the war did not even arise for him. You were attacked in Poland, or should be attacked. He wasn't that specific. In any case, the newspapers and radio broadcasts reported that all of this only served to defend the homeland.
It had become very convenient for him in France. His unit was stationed about fifty kilometers from Paris.
He liked the occasional trips to this metropolis, even if they always required a little organizational talent.
Getting to Paris and, above all, back on time was not always that easy. Since the German invasion of France, the French railroad had lost even more of its reliability. There was also little noticeable of the German punctuality. This only worked with the field post. A joke that people liked to tell themselves during basic training, but had meanwhile turned out to be reality. Absurdly, most of the mail came by train. Piet's personal goal after his stay in France was to get back to his village in Schleswig-Holstein unscathed. Ideally, even without having to shed blood yourself. Of course, of course, without shedding his own blood. The dislike of the French was often palpable, but a lot of the girls here were into uniforms and he liked that. It was tolerable that old men would spit at his feet from time to time or whisper insults in French. A girl wasn't waiting for him at home and so he made the most of his freedom. Even if fraternizing with the enemy's wives was forbidden. In his unit, like so many other things, it wasn't taken that seriously.
He liked a local girl, but had been annoyed for years that he had never found the courage to speak to her and so his school crush ended up marrying Piet's direct neighbors. In this case, fate was not very good for him. He had to watch them turtle very often. Now of course he could enjoy the evenings and didn't have to worry. He didn’t have to see the pecker that his Else had uncomfortable at the moment either. One more reason to enjoy the evenings here. He just couldn't allow himself to be caught by bourgeois officers who, despite all their freedoms,