Hope Survives

Prologue

Warm, thick blood oozed from Annie Laurent’s back, down her arms, saturating what remained of her white silk blouse. She crouched expectantly—face down, staring at the floorboards, worn and thick with dirt. A cool draft swept over her, and she longed to breathe deeply without piercing pain.

Strength drained from her beaten body.

Footsteps shuffled toward her from different directions.

She didn’t dare look but fought through the agony and twisted slightly to protect her left ribs. Jaw locked, determined not to scream, she squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fists and braced for another hard boot to her side.

The blow never came.

Instead, she heard voices speaking about her as if she were an object of curiosity. A woman said, She’s beautiful, even with her head shaved.

Annie’s white-knuckled fingers relaxed.

Another said, I’m surprised they didn’t put her in the brothel.

She must be dying or she wouldn’t be here.

Hush, girls, she’s already scared enough.

The comments quieted.

Annie fought her fatigue and strained to hear more.

Look at her shredded back. She’s been horsewhipped.

Poor thing.

Caroline, help her, a young woman said.

Scrawny bruised legs approached her, and Annie braced again. Every muscle in her aching body screamed, Please, no more! Yet she determined to divulge nothing. She would never sacrifice the others’ safety. She would rather die.

My name’s Caroline, a shaky voice whispered. What’s yours? The woman spoke French, clearly not Gestapo or SS. Who was this new interrogator?

Annie, she responded without looking up, hardly recognizing her own weak, spiritless voice.

You’re going to be alright, Annie. Where are you from?

Luxembourg.

The woman slowly straddled Annie’s raw back and gently pressed her knees against Annie’s ribs. The acrid smell of urine pervaded the air. Burning liquid bit Annie’s open wounds; it was the ultimate insult. She forced her arms and legs to join her depleted energy and crawled away. It was time to face her assailant. All fear aside she slowly sat—legs angled sideways, arms supporting her shaky frame. Wretched creatures surrounded her—lifeless, sad eyes locked in emaciated bodies.

I’m sorry if I hurt you, Annie. The urine will disinfect your wounds.

A teenager reached out with shaky skeletal fingers and stroked Annie’s head. Welcome, Annie from Luxembourg, to Bösingfeld.

Chapter 1

Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.

⸞ Abraham Lincoln

In 1940, the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg was a fairyland nestled between France, Belgium and Germany, medieval castles, dairy farms and vineyards were peppered among its rolling hills, small cities and tiny villages. Neighbors engaged in friendly conversation on the street. It was an enchanted country known for its rich cultural life. The desire of the Luxembourg people was to maintain their independence and national character. They were tiny spectators of the gigantic conflict raging around them between the Great Powers.

On May 10th, their illusions were brutally snatched away.

The Germans invaded this defenseless nation. They pillaged shop after tiny shop, forcing merchants out of business. The German armed Protection Squadron, better known as the SS, looked over shoulders, eavesdropped on conversations and put their hands in the till. Citizens impatiently waited, expecting the Nazis to eventually move on.

They never did.

***

21 September 1940 - Luxembourg City, G.D. of Luxembourg

Annie Laurent usually took the bus home from work. Not tonight. She needed time to think, and the longer she delayed the criticism at home the better. Why a second list? Gruppenführer (General) Gustav Simon’s grey, piercing eyes softened today while he dictated his list of names as if the two of them shared some deep dark secret. She shivered at the thought.

The incessant rain had finally turned to drizzle. She tightened her headscarf and scurried between store awnings, until the light of her favorite bakery called to her. There she lingered. The Nazis hadn’t ransacked it yet tonight. The window was filled with delectable treats dribbled lightly with icing or sugar. Inviting smells wafted out when a customer exited. Why even try to resist? Papa might like something sweet as well.

Inside, three elderly ladies, dressed in their fineries, chatted and laughed at a corner table, sipping coffee and eating pastries. Who knew what the gossip of the day was, but they seemed to be enjoying it.

Annie greeted them with a smile, Bonjour.

Cold silence followed. Two of them, stone-faced, acknowledged her with slight nods. The third one scowled and turned away. Annie knew why. Never mind. They’re just old biddies. At least she had a job when many did not. She hated working for the Nazis but it paid well. She hoarded every franc. As soon as she was eighteen, she’d be on her own. Mama couldn’t stand in her way. She turned her attention to the glass-covered case. It was even more inviting than the outside window.

Bonjour, Monsieur Krier.

Bonjour, Annie, what can I get you?

I’ll take three cookies and that last cream puff, please.

Blanche will be coming out in a few minutes with a fresh plate of cream puffs if you have the time to wait. Blanche Krier produced most of the sweets in the bakery whereas Daniel Krier baked mostly the breads. They were the most loving couple Annie knew, always a tender smile or a secret wink. Never a cross word.

No, that’s fine. I’d best be getting home.

He placed the treats in a white bag. That will be five francs. How’s the weather out there?

Not bad. The rain is letting up. She paid and then inhaled the parcel’s sweet aroma. A simple pleasure. Her gift from above. Every day she experienced a gift. Today’s was the luscious smell of warm sugar cookies.

Three reckless German soldiers barged into the bakery, laughing. Her serene moment dissolved. The scoundrels never paid. Poor Monsieur and Madame Krier, they would probably clean the bakers out for the night. Officer Günter Hammond, the one with funny odd shaped ears that fanned out beneath his cap, who often guarded Simon’s office, stopped next to her. He boasted to his comrades as if seeking approval, This one works for the boss.

She backed away as he gloated. His skinny fingers grabbed her elbow, spun her around and, with the other hand, dramatically pinched her bottom. She knew she should stop and think. She knew she should disregard her indignation, but she couldn’t. Her gaze was direct and without apprehension. Anger propelled her hand which connected with his pimply face. Shocked, an I can’t believe you slapped me expression sprang onto his face. His fellow thieves hooted, and hollered.

Daniel apologized to Annie with his eyes and then focused on his new customers.  

She marched out the door furious, colliding with a rain-soaked man lingering under the awning. He feigned a handshake and thrust a water-smudged paper into her hand. Saturday, he whispered close to her face. She read the first line, ignored his hopeful eyes and rushed on, jamming the paper into her pocket. She couldn't afford any more trouble.

***

Annie charged past one familiar empty store window after another, until storefronts merged into home fronts. Her anger at the German soldier cooled, and her pace slowed as she entered the Fourniers’ neighborhood. Her thoughts returned to work and her boss’s irregular lists. Georges Fournier’s name had appeared on Simon’s first list. Annie recalled his thin-lipped, toothy smile this afternoon when she handed him the freshly typed second list. The names appeared to have no connection with anything or even to each other. What was their purpose? Determined to get to the bottom of it, Annie rang the Fourniers’ doorbell.  

No one answered.

Annie rang it again... and once more. She found it unusual that no one would be home at the dinner hour. Finally the door cracked open.

Oh, Annie, I’m sorry. Come in. Madame Fournier cautiously peeked outside and then quickly closed the door behind them. Her eyes were swollen and red.

What’s the matter, Madame Fournier? The woman trembled nonstop when Annie embraced her withered shoulders. She sobbed uncontrollably and closed her hand over her mouth. Something must be terribly wrong. Annie wondered if she should be there to witness it. Had she and her husband fought?

They arrested Georges this morning. The words seemed to choke her.

Who arrested him?

The Gestapo.

Why? Annie had tried in her head to deny it, make excuses, reject the idea, but her heart struggled with it often. Names on a list linked to aggression and disappearing people. That was the frightening, glaring truth. But she still didn’t know why. Did the why even make a difference? For whatever the reason, it was wrong.

I don’t know. He’s been working late, so he slept in a bit. They banged on the door around 7:00 a.m., asking for Georges. They pointed their guns at me.

Childish giggles fluttered down the hallway from the other room. Their mother dropped her voice, I let the soldiers in. Oh, Annie, I shouldn’t have let them in!

You had no choice.

Pools of tears filled the frightened woman’s eyes. They asked for Georges and I told them he was still sleeping. They charged up the stairs and came down two minutes later dragging Georges between them. He was still in his nightclothes. Oh, Annie, it was awful. They wouldn’t even tell me where they were taking him.

Guilt gripped Annie’s heart. She should have come yesterday, or last week. Why, why, why the lists? Annie needed to run, to get fresh air... to warn her neighbors on today's list!

I’ll try to find out where he is. Here, Madame Fournier, for the children. Annie gave her the bag of sweets and one last hug—frail futile attempts to comfort. Then she slipped out the door as quietly as she had entered.

She darted across cobblestone walkways, still wet and slippery from the earlier driving rain. She dodged large puddles and small streams, almost toppling a bike rider. Irritated, she wondered why people didn't stay home on dreadful nights like this.

Around the last bend, she stopped abruptly, shrank back and pressed herself close to the corner house. Four streets down, a great grey-green hulk of metal with a black Maltese cross had parked next to a lamppost, engine idling like the purr of a well-fed lion. It was a half-track troop carrier, empty except for the driver wearing a combat helmet. Annie pressed her back against the wall. She could hear German voices shouting in the distance. She waited and waited... time slowed... her heart raced. Finally, their engine roared. Tires rumbled as they approached her and slowed. Her trembling fingers pulled her headscarf forward. Finally, the intruders roared past her seeking someone else to devour.

Thank you, Lord.

She hated the fact that they infused such fear in her. She determined to conquer it.

First stop, the Biermann’s, two blocks up on the right. Annie rang the bell. Moments later the door opened.

Good evening, Annie, what brings your pretty face to my door?

May I come in, Monsieur Biermann?

Of course, my dear. How is your mother these days?

She checked right and left. No one saw her enter the small hallway. They exchanged the traditional three kisses on the cheek— right, left, right. The glorious aromas of sauerbraten and spaetzle greeted her. Annie’s stomach grumbled.

Would you like some dinner? We were just sitting down—

They have arrested Monsieur Fournier, she interrupted.

Who has? What for? His eyes searched for answers.

The Gestapo. I don’t know why. All I know is that he was on a list I typed up for Gustave Simon last week. And you were on his list today.

The creases on his face deepened. For a moment, his heavy frame wilted against the yellow flower-papered wall.

She thought he might fall.

Then abruptly his stance changed. Colette, he shouted, bring the children. His voice lowered to a whisper, We’ll leave tonight. Our bags have been packed for weeks. Thank you, Annie. We owe you our lives. Please give my regards to your parents. His gorilla-like arms practically crushed her before he led her to the door.

She made two more similar stops before she headed home. She didn’t know the other people on Simon’s list. Their names were a blur. They couldn't be warned.

Her hand slipped into her pocket. The soaked flyer was still there.

***

Saturday morning Annie smoothed out the flyer that had been drying on the window sill. She had refused to read it before.  It was now or never.

Mir welle bleiwe wat mir sin

Bockfiels - 22h

The heading We want to remain as we are was the national motto of Luxembourg. The brief message, untranslatable if found by the Germans, was alerting her to a meeting, a meeting at Bockfiels forbidden by the Germans, one Annie shouldn’t attend. Yet she was drawn.

Bockfiels was comprised of rocky cliffs which hugged the valley around the city. It encompassed a vast underground system of passages known as the Casemates du Bock. Annie stared at the wrinkled notice. Rumor was that scattered groups were banding together to form an Underground. Nothing seemed right. She was turning lives upside down by delivering her warnings. She considered running away—abandoning the life she was compelled to live. She felt cut off from the rest of the world. Working for the Nazis ate the core of her being. She shivered at the thought. But joining this group was too risky. She had her family to protect. No. The Underground was off limits. For now.

Chapter 2

12 May, 1941- Pole Nord Night Club, Luxembourg City

A long life may not be good enough, but a good life is long enough ⸞ Benjamin Franklin

It was ten thirty and already the Pole Nord Night Club was packed. Young women were perched at cloth-covered tables scattered throughout the crowded room. A slow-moving ceiling fan redistributed stale cigarette and cigar smoke. No one seemed to care. The noise level increased as the evening wore on, and drinking men bellowed at the bar. The atmosphere was peppered with laughter and spontaneous song. Some couples cuddled at candlelit tables under plaid-curtained windows, pressing shoulder to shoulder or forehead to forehead, playing love games with their eyes. The nightclub was the same as it had been before the Germans invaded, yet the atmosphere was strained. Everyone longed to escape the reality of war, if only for an evening.

Annie gazed around the room for her lifelong best friend. She wasn’t there, but the man who had handed her the underground flyer sat at a small table in the middle of the room. She didn’t recognize the others with him but guessed they might be a part of his group. She was curious to hear his conversation, so she threaded through the crowd and stopped near his table. He was easy to look at —brown, mysterious eyes and long, lush lashes most women would envy. His nose was narrow and slightly turned down. His upper lip was perfectly shaped like two inverted ice-cream cones. He was handsome in an interesting way.

Sorry I’m late. Maggie startled her.

Mysterious Eyes looked up and then stood at the sound of her voice. Bonjour, Maggie. How are you?

Maggie turned around to face him. They exchanged a friendly three kisses on the cheeks and several pleasantries.

Annie turned her back to him.

I would ask you to join us, Maggie, but we were just leaving. Here, take our table. Give your father my regards. He disappeared with his group into the crowd.

Annie turned and watched him leave. Who was that?

Marc? He’s a friend of my father’s. His parents own the big dairy farm outside of town.

He doesn’t look your father’s age.

No, I guess not. It’s odd. Come to think of it, I’m not sure how they know each other. He is kind of cute though, isn’t he?

I didn’t really notice. They slid into the chairs.

Oh, Annie, you never notice the important things.

Like? She couldn’t imagine what was on Maggie’s mind now.

Maggie searched the crowd and then looked Annie square in the face. The war, the Germans for heaven’s sake. Papa complains that they are changing everything. Mama calls them fiendish. She lit a cigarette, puffed hard and exhaled with a desperate expression.

Annie couldn’t keep from laughing, just a little.

Stop it, Annie. It’s not funny. Her cheeks did crinkle slightly and her eyes relaxed.

I know. I’m sorry, but you look so serious. She squeezed her lifelong best friend’s hand with no positive response. Maggie was the pretty one who was serious and only saw the dark side of life. Annie was the clown, the carefree one who lived on the funny side. Two opposites, bound together by friendship and love.

The war will be over before we know it. Besides, Maggie, we’re here to celebrate your birthday.

Don’t be naive. I’ve heard they’re forcing everyone to change their Luxembourg names to German ones. She fingered a napkin and then twisted the hair that escaped down the back of her neck.

Annie envied Maggie’s straight auburn hair. It was swept up into a billowing bun showing off her heart-shaped face. I know, but that’s not so bad. The Germans had already changed Annie’s surname from Laurent to Schmidt, but she didn’t dare tell her lifelong best friend. We can change them back when the war is over. Next year this time, their troops will be gone. Annie knew it was a lie, but tonight she wanted to forget the war and the Germans.

Maggie pressed her elbows into the table and leaned over. Annie, what are they really like? She waited for a secret response.

The truth was, Annie hated being a a secretary for the Gestapo, and she didn’t want to talk about it, even with Maggie. Every day she questioned her reason for staying, made up excuses. But every day she came up with the same answer. She had no choice. It was that or... No, she refused to think about it. It’s just a job... just a job. Thoughts of war plagued her daily, but not tonight. I answer the phones, and the Gruppenführer gives me letters to type. He yells orders to his men, but he is polite to me... so far at least.  

I don’t understand how you can be so casual about it.

It’s your birthday. That’s how. And you only turn eighteen once. Please, Maggie, I didn’t sneak out of the house tonight to talk about the Germans. Let’s just have fun. Tonight is about parties, good friends and presents. With that, Annie pulled out a small box from inside her purse. It had a blue bow awkwardly tied around it. She thrust it toward her friend.

Eagerly Maggie opened it. Oh, Annie, I can’t accept this.

It was the cameo broach Annie’s father had given to her on her sixteenth birthday. She had worn it almost every day since. Yes, you can. You must! This means we are sisters forever and can never be separated.

Maggie understood the importance of the gift. Her hug was long and sincere. I love you, Annie. We are sisters for life.

Abby—a round-shouldered, mousy former schoolmate—interrupted them. Happy birthday, Maggie! she screeched. Abby brushed their cheeks with kisses, whining absolute nothings in their ears. Her chitchat about who was doing what went on incessantly.

Several more friends gathered around Maggie, ordered a round of drinks, toasted and wished her well. Maggie’s eyes constantly searched the crowd. I wonder if he’s coming. She whispered to Annie. He was François. Maggie had met him at the club three weeks ago. She was smitten.

The jukebox dropped another record onto the turntable. A young man, not much more than a boy, leaned against the machine. His shoulders slumped forward as he made a second selection, and then he turned around. His careless, unstoppable swagger mesmerized all the single women in the room. Their flamboyant chatter converted to giggles and whispers as he passed them. But he never seemed to notice or care. He headed straight for Maggie, his eyes locked on her. He was shorter than most of the other boys but it didn’t shake his confidence. His hands were stuffed into his pants pockets like a model from one of Mama’s mail order catalogues.

Happy birthday, Maggie, he crooned and then planted three kisses, the last frightfully close to her mouth. Maggie seemed to melt.

Thank you, François. Maggie’s perfectly straight teeth finally broke through into the huge smile Annie had tried to draw from her earlier.

Annie couldn’t blame her. She was convinced his kisses would have that effect even on a petrified nun! He lifted Maggie’s hand to his lips. The first song ended and another began.

May I have this dance?

Maggie didn’t speak. His right arm gently cradled her tiny waist, and the crowd parted. All eyes were on them, but the star struck couple didn’t seem to notice. Their eyes searched, caressed and engaged only each other. Maggie’s floral shirtwaist dress swayed to the melodic tone of Rina Ketti’s heart-wrenching song, J’attendrai. I will wait for you. I will wait for you, she sang. The music faded but their stares did not. All was quiet.

Annie wished she could enter their dreamland. The whole room seemed entranced by a faraway fantasy.

Suddenly, the harsh voice of a German Gestapo shattered the moment, Every man between the ages of sixteen and twenty-two, line up at the door. Four soldiers in black uniform, holding machine guns, took a stance by the entrance. The command came even louder. Every man between the ages of sixteen and twenty-two, line up at the door. Three guns pointed toward the crowd. One shot the soft lights that hung over the bar. Several female screams sliced the thick air. Cries choked the romancing couples.

Maggie pulled François toward the back door.

Annie needed to stop them. Fleeing would eventually condemn Maggie as well has her beloved. Annie couldn’t let that happen. Quickly she wound through the frozen crowd and grabbed her best friend’s arm. Let him go. Maggie spun around and in that brief, staggering moment her eyes accused Annie of betrayal. Like daggers they pierced to the bone.

François kissed his sweetheart’s fingertips and then reluctantly let them go. He understood. He made his way through the crowd and fell in line behind the other man-boys.

Maggie started after him. Please, please, no. Don’t let them take you.

He looked back and mouthed the words, Wait for me!

J’attendrai, she whispered through tears.

The soldiers pushed him out the exit. Horrified, the remaining crowd stared at the stark, still door. Could it be any closer to home?

Chapter 3

13 March 1942 - Villa Pauly, Luxembourg City

You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending. ⸞ C.S. Lewis

It had been almost a year since Maggie’s birthday. The Germans were far from gone and Annie hated them even more. She speculated about co-workers that had left for the day and never returned. This morning she was running late and didn’t want to be one of them. Hurry, hurry, down three flights of stairs she ran still tucking in her blouse, careful not to catch her sweater in the waistband as well. Must get to work by 7:00 to avoid the mandatory Heil Hitler ceremony outside her office building. She hated that salute and didn’t know what to expect if they caught her sneaking in the back door to avoid it.

Spring sunshine warmed the days but nights were still frightfully cold. The frigid air dissipated as she approached the ground floor. Their sitting room fireplace and kitchen stove served as heaters for the whole house, but heat rarely reached her attic room. She slept in the attic these days because Mama wanted visitors to have proper accommodations.  The visitors were families hiding from the Nazis or young boys attempting to avoid conscription. They stayed only two or three days, just long enough for the Underground to arrange their safe transport over the border. Mama, though she wouldn’t admit it, had a soft heart for people in need.

In the kitchen Mama waited by the icebox, arms crossed, fingers drumming a forearm in impatience. Oblivious, her father sat at the table. It was set, as always, with embroidered table cloth and best china. The scent of warm rolls and fresh-brewed coffee filled the room.

The milkman hasn’t come, Mama snapped. Is the boy awake yet?

Annie rolled her eyes. The day had hardly started and Mama was already cranky. Must be one of her deadly headaches. Annie warmed her hands at the stove. I didn’t hear him when I passed his door.

Good morning, Princess. Her father winked. I’ll go down the street to Lenoir Market, Mama—

You’ll do no such thing! Annie, go next door, ask Madame Dubois to lend me a bit of cream for the coffee.

Yes, Mama.

And for the love of God, pull down your skirt! Your curtains are showing. You look like a street vamp. What will the neighbors think?

Catherine, leave her alone—

Down the center hall someone banged on the front door.

If that milkman breaks the glass, he’ll get more than a piece of my mind. Mama marched to the front door and opened it. What do you want? she barked in her smoker’s voice.

Papa looked surprised at Mama’s comment. Annie thought it odd also, but was relieved the cream had arrived. She might get to work on time after all. She poured Papa’s coffee and reached for the sugar bowl.

We’re looking for a boy named Hector Baur. The youth at the door spoke German.

He doesn’t live here. Mama snapped.

I’m ordered to search all houses. His high voice cracked.

Annie stood up. Papa— He put his finger to his lips and motioned her to sit. She looked upward, but he shook his head. The staircase was off the entry hallway. She would never be able to get upstairs undetected. Annie prayed the boy was hiding.

Do I look like someone who would hide a snotty-nosed runaway kid? Annie heard the scowl in Mama’s voice and imagined it on her face. Only three apples high, Mama was a powerhouse. She could make even the biggest man whimper.

No, Fraulein.

Then get off my doorstep. The door slammed.

Annie and Papa waited for the banging to come again, but they only heard Mama’s slippers shuffling toward them over the tile floor.

Damn Germans. As Mama eased into her chair, she put her trembling hands to her head. Her shoulders slumped. She sighed. Go get the cream, child, and be back before the boy comes down.

Annie kissed her mother’s forehead and slipped out the door.

She would not get to work in time.

***

Annie’s office was in a beautiful stone building that resembled a small castle. It was called Villa Pauly. Two turrets stood in the corners on the street side, with a second-floor white-railed balcony in between. The ground and first floors housed offices of the parliament. Or so they had in the past. Now they belonged