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Danger
by Candlelight
by Allan A. Macfarlan
In
World War II, France was occupied by Nazi Germany. The French
people led by the Free French fought bravely against the Nazi
invaders. Under such conditions what was French children’s
life like? Did they also do their best to help their country?
In the following story, you will see how two children acted
boldly and cleverly in times of danger to protect a capsule
that contained important information.
.
Into the humble home of
Armand Bernaud, in the Grande Rue, Dieppe, suspense ahd the
shadow of death were invited, although
they were most unwelcome guests. These
twin terrors too often went hand in hand with patriotism during
the Second World War. Particularly was this true
in sections of France occupied by the invading Nazi army.
Every French civilian was a possible spy, and the
of Dieppe kept close watch on their activities. No home was
safe from the sudden visit of his Gestapo, or secret agents,
at any hour of the day or night.
Armand Bernaud had been
a prisoner of war since the fall of the , but his brave wife served France
ably during the Nazi occupation. Not only was her own life
in danger, but also that of her son Jacques and her little
daughter Jacqueline. Although Jacques was only twelve years
old, he had already helped the Free French Underground movement
a number of times. He had carried messages and acted as lookout,
the people of the Underground hoping that his youth and the
fact that he was small for his age would keep him from being
suspected by the Nazis. Should he be caught, both Jacques
and the Underground knew what his fate would be. Jacques was
a very intelligent boy and he was often afraid, but his love
for his country was even greater than his fear of death. He
was more concerned for the safety of his mother and his little
sister than he was for his own safety.
He envied his friend Pierre who, although only fourteen, was
in active service with the Free Frence.
Although only ten years
of age, his sister Jacqueline was a very bright child. She
sensed the dangerous part her mother played in the drama of
war. Frequently she cried herself to sleep on the nights of
extreme risk, but before her mother and Jacques, she smiled
bravely. Jacqueline
was to be taken care of by loyal neighbors should the hand
of death suddenly knock at the Bernauds’door.
While death might beckon
at any time, its dark shadow came directly into their home
sometime after dusk every Thursday. A little metal
contained the "death warrant." Each week they received
it from a typical-looking French peasant and concealed it
cleverly until it was called for by an agent of the
A few hiding places were
considered especially safe for the deadly container. At times
it was concealed in the
of a chair. Sometimes it was dropped into the big iron pot
where some of the evening's soup remained to cover it. Another
excellent place was inside the
end of a candle. The capsule was fitted into it, and the hole
carefully filled with melted wax. The candle was then placed
in a metal candlestick which stood openly on the table. In
order to deceive even the shrewd German Secret Field Police
who sometimes headed unwelcome search parties, the candle
was partially burned, as its length showed. This trick had
so frequently deceived the clever searchers that it had become
a popular one.
Inside the waterproof capsule
was a carefully rolled strip of the finest . On this special paper, many figures and
coded words were written in ink. They were reports compiled
by allied secret service agents from information gathered
from many sources in the occupied area. Sometimes the container
held information from the train-watching posts, giving the
number and types of German trains going up to the front or
returning from it. Frequently it contained other information
of equal importance. Always its possession carried the same
deadly danger.
One particular evening
the capsule had been safely given to the Bernaud home and
hidden in the candle. The little family was seated around
the table after supper when a loud knock shook the door. Madame
Bernaud opened it, and three German officers stepped into
the room. Without waiting for an invitation, they sat down
at the table and started a conversation with the Bernauds
in excellent French. Two of the officers, a major and a captain,
were members of an , but the third, although he was only a
lieutenant, caused the greatest uneasiness. The Bernauds knew
that he was an officer of the Intelligence Service stationed
in the Dieppe sector.
"I have instructions
from the to settle an officer in this house. He will arrive
next Sunday," said the major.
"," said Madame Bernaud
evenly.
The major pulled a sheet
of paper from his pocket and bent over it in an apparent effort
to read by the dim lamplight. Instantly the lieutenant rose
and lit the candle, pushing it across the table toward the
senior officer. The major carefully studied the written symbols
and put the paper back into his pocket. The candle burned
threateningly, and the officers chatted
in German.
Madame Bernaud got up and
went into the kitchen, returning with another lamp which she
placed on the table. Then she snuffed out the candle. ",
that is brighter, gentlemen." The
light was now good enough for a keen observer to note that
a tense look left Jacques’ face. He chatted with
little Jacqueline who sat on a bench beside him. His relief
was of short duration.
Quickly the lieutenant
relit the still smoking wick of the candle. "Even this
little extra light is most welcome when such a dark night
awaits outside." He smiled cynically at the Bernaudes
as he spoke.
Jacqueline got up and stood
beside her mother's chair. The child seemed as conscious of
what had happened to the little candle as Jacques. It had
suddenly become the most vital thing in the room, and the
most terrible. She sensed, as did her mother and Jacques,
that the eyes of the officers were fixed on the candle which
was actually growing even shorter.
Jacques rose steadily to
his feet and approached the table. "It is growing colder.
I will bring in some firewood from the shed." So saying,
he reached out and lifted the candlestick from the table.
He had taken only
a few steps toward the door when the lieutenant stepped quickly
forward and caught him by the wrist. "You can manage
without a light," he said sharply.
Jacques replaced the candle
on the table and went into the little shed which was built
onto the house. His mind had grown suddenly numb； seconds
seemed hours. If he could only communicate with his friend
Pierre of the Underground, perhaps the all-important capsule
with its message could be saved. Jacques knew that it was
impossible to contact Pierre immediately, and time was running
out. He
must be in at the finish, he told himself, even
though he felt powerless to avoid the fast approaching .
As the candle flickered out, so would their lives. He groped
for an armful of wood and hastened back into the room. He
mechanically put some logs into the stove and sat down. Jacqueline’s
voice almost made him jump.
"It is late, Monsieur
le Commandant, and it is so dark upstairs. Please, may I take
a light and go to bed?" asked the child.
"Certainly, ," the major replied, and his voice
was almost tender. "I have a little one just about your
age in .
Won't you sit beside me, and I will tell you about my Luischen?”"
The ever-shortening candle
flickered threateningly. It was now little more than an inch
above the candlestick. In a few moments the flame would flutter
and go out － with still an inch of candle unburnt. Such a
strange thing could attract the attention of at least the
Gestapo officer. Surely a telltale hole in the melted wax
would expose an end of the metal capsule concealed in the
base of the candle. The Bernauds felt that one of the officers,
if not all, had guessed the candle’s secret. All three awaited
the tense ending of the drama. Jacqueline went to the major,
and he held her against his knee. The candle flickered audibly,
and its feeble light became even dimmer.
"Won't you please
tell me about your little girl another time?" asked Jacqueline.
"My head hurts, and I'm very tired."
"Of course, little
one," agreed the major, stroking her silky hair.
Jacqueline picked up the
candlestick with a steady hand. ""
she murmured. The feeble, fluttering flame seemed hardly attached
to the wick as the child kissed her mother and then walked
slowly toward the stairway. Her mother's paleness was visible,
and Jacques' hands were clasped too tightly around his knee.
Fortunately, the backs of the officers were turned toward
the stairs, because, just as Jacqueline reached the top step,
the candle went out.
(1 481 words)
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