Chapter 11 -- Ryan's Story -- Liberation
"Quick, hide," Gunther said.
He grabbed Ryan's arm and led him to the back of the loft. He got Ryan to lay down and covered him in hay. Ryan knew they were German soldiers, most probably still on the hunt for him. He heard Gunther leave, he hoped the boy could keep them away. I dawned on him that he was about to leave, he would have walked straight into them. Shivers ran down his spine.
The voices continued outside the barn for a while. He wished he could understand what they were saying. Then to his dismay the voices got louder, they were now in the barn. He could make out Gunther's voice amongst them. Footsteps on the ladder, someone was coming up the loft, no two people. The sound of heavy boots on the dry dusty floorboards filled him with fear. A familiar crunching sound could be heard, the pitch fork! It was being used to poke the hay.
He lay still, holding his breath. Was this going to be the end? Skewered by a pitch fork. He waited for the inevitable.
Gunther shouted something, "Hör auf! Du machst das Heu kaputt. Das ist wertlos als Viehfutter, wenn es zu trocken ist. Gib mir den Heugabel!."
The sound of the fork being driven into the hay continued and was getting closer. Ryan nearly jumped out of his skin when the fork penetrated the hay just inches from him. It withdrew only to be forced into the hay on his other side, again just inches from him. He nearly wet himself.
Slowly the sound of the fork hitting the hay moved away and eventually stopped. People on the ladder again and more talking down below. The voices became distant as they moved outside. After several minutes all was silent.
Ryan didn't move, he couldn't, fear still gripped him. He had a feeling that Gunther was the one with the pitchfork, he would have known where to strike. The boy probably saved his life.
Ryan was alerted again to someone coming up the ladder. A hand grabbed him but wasn't strong enough to pull him up. Ryan knew it was Gunther. He stood covered in hay and looked at he boy.
"They gone," he said.
Ryan grabbed the boy and hugged him. It would be foolish to attempt to leave now with soldiers so close. He knew they wouldn't come back here, this was now the safest place to be and at least he would be fed. He decided to stay for a couple more days.
Gunther wrinkled his nose, "You smell."
He grabbed Ryan's hand and led him down from the loft. At the bottom he turned round and found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.
"Albert! Nein!" Gunther shouted and moved himself between the gun and Ryan.
Standing before them was another boy, older than Gunther, Ryan guessed in his mid twenties but it was obvious from his looks that this was Gunther's brother. Albert shouted at his brother and an argument ensued. Eventually the older brother spoke to Ryan.
"What's your name?"
"Ryan."
"I should turn you in."
"No!" Gunther shouted.
Albert sighed heavily and lowered the gun. "I'm not going to."
"Why not?" Ryan asked.
"The last thing we want is more soldiers around here. Life is difficult enough."
"Thanks, I guess."
"Is that how you escaped the prison camp?" Albert asked pointing to the German uniform Ryan was still wearing.
"Yeah, it worked too. How did you know I was from the prison camp?"
"The soldiers that came earlier were looking for you, but don't worry they won't be back anytime soon."
"Why are you helping me?"
"It's a long story. Come, we need to get you out of those clothes. My name is Albert Schroder. What do I call you?"
"Ryan, Ryan Monroe."
Albert and Gunther led Ryan into the house, he noticed that Albert walked with a pronounced limp. The farmhouse was small but comfortable and in the kitchen was an elderly woman who went into a panic when she saw Ryan. Albert spoke to her and she seemed to calm down. She greeted Ryan and began to prepare something.
"This is our mother, Greta. She's going to prepare some food for you.
"Please there's no need," Ryan replied.
"We insist, one bowl of broth is not enough," Albert said looking at Gunther. "I'm not stupid, I saw you sneaking it out." Gunther blushed.
Albert spoke to Gunther and the boy left the kitchen. Albert motioned Ryan to sit.
"I still don't know why you're helping me," Ryan said, "You're German are you not?"
"Yes, but we're not that proud at what Hitler has done."
"I don't understand."
"Our father was called up to serve and so was I. As you can see I was injured in battle and had to be discharged. But my father continued to serve.
Six months ago he turned up here out of the blue, he wasn't due home for leave. We quickly learned he had deserted the army. The SS found him here and shot him," Albert paused, "in front of us all."
