After Dunkirk

buildings, schools, markets, and the neighborhoods of friends and loved ones. They could sense but did not know the extent to which Dunkirk had been leveled. Finally, an unnerving quiet returned, and with it, the sight of Germans in dark uniforms, moving to the coast and then descending to the sand to inspect the hoard of arms and machines left behind.
Today, Amélie watched intently as the soldiers moved like marauding ants from vehicle to vehicle, throwing open doors or breaking windows, leaning or crawling inside, and sometimes emerging with objects that they placed in a pile or hurried up the beach. She drew back from the window, her eyes arrested when they came to the innumerable flocks of scavengers squawking over scattered dead bodies. Mon Dieu!
Now, as her view trailed toward the stretch of beach far down in front of her house, she caught sight of a long, dark object pressed against the brown line of detritus where wavelets rose to the land at high tide. Seen from hundreds of meters away, the object looked like it could be another body not yet discovered by scavengers.
Amélie sighed. Le pauvre.
She shifted her attention to the activity among the vehicles again, seeing that the Germans worked efficiently, methodically, and thoroughly as they moved northward toward her end of the shore.
Dark clouds intensified in the overcast sky, and rain descended in driving sheets. The soldiers on the beach first pulled out their rain slickers and continued to work, but then as the downpour became torrential, they retreated up the slope to gain shelter.
Amélie’s eyes swept across the sand to the place where she had seen the presumed dead body, and her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. It was not there, and the tide was not yet high enough to sweep it out to sea. She searched back and forth, and then thought she spotted it several yards north. She peered more intently through the rain and gasped as the body flopped over on its back. Then as she watched, it appeared to lift its head skyward.
Jeremy cast his eyes to the heavens in thanks as heavy raindrops fell. Within moments, he was drenched, but the sheets of rain provided limited concealment. He drank in the rejuvenating water and then struggled onto his stomach and began crawling faster. Daring at one point to look back across the beach, he saw the Germans first cover themselves against the downpour and then climb the slope to seek shelter.
As he watched, fresh energy surged. After a few moments, he dared to rise to his knees and examine the ground nearby. To his front, he saw a gully deeper than the others. It would allow him to ascend from the shore in a low crouch for some distance before again having to revert to crawling on his belly. Glancing at the dark, looming clouds, he crept into the gully and began his climb.
“Chantal,” Amélie cried, her voice unmistakably urgent. “Chantal, come quickly!”
Moments later, Chantal appeared at her shoulder, staring out the window. “What is it?”
“Shh,” Amélie cautioned with one finger over her mouth. “We don’t want Papa to hear.”
“What are you talking about?”
Amélie pointed. “There. In the gully, the deeper one. I saw a soldier go in there. He must be British and trying to escape the Germans. He’ll come this way.”
Chantal fixed her eyes on the gully. “Are you sure? In this rain, how could you see anything?”
“I noticed him before the rain started. I thought it was another dead body, but then I saw him move, and he crawled into that gully.” She glanced over her shoulder as if checking to see that they were still alone. “We must help him.”
Chantal’s eyes widened with alarm. “Are you a fool? If the Nazis catch us…” She made a slicing motion across her throat.
Amélie shrugged impatiently. “They don’t need an excuse. That man is here because he fought for us, for our country. He needs our help.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Ferrand Boulier, the girls’ father, appeared behind them. Thin, wizened, and bent, he regarded them with dubious eyes and then stared out the window. “What is it? What did you see out there?”
The sisters exchanged glances. “It’s nothing, Papa,” said Chantal. “We were just watching the German soldiers running up the beach to get out of the rain.”
Ferrand eyed them. He pointed a finger by his head skyward and wagged it, an eternal French gesture. “Don’t be watching them too much. They are not our friends, and I’m going to have enough trouble keeping them from you.”
Amélie swayed back and forth on her feet, anxious to end the conversation and get back to the window. “We know, and we don’t like them either. Seeing them run for cover was fun, that’s all.”
Ferrand’s eyes narrowed as he examined his daughters’ faces. “You could never lie to me,” he told Amélie. “Every time you tried as a little girl, you twisted back and forth on your feet just like you’re doing now. What else is going on?”
“She saw a British soldier in that gully,” Chantal blurted. “She wants to help him.”
Ferrand whirled on Amélie, whose cheeks flushed as she glared at her sister. “That’s not true. I thought I saw another dead body on the beach where the gully ends. But it’s gone. I must have been mistaken.”
Her father stepped closer to the window and stared down at the beach where Amélie had indicated. “My eyes are not what they were,” he said quietly after a moment. “I can barely make out the beach.” He turned and craned his neck toward Amélie, his expression muted. “Tell me exactly what you saw, and don’t lie to me. Twisting on your feet is not the only way you gave yourself away.”
Amélie sighed and told her father everything she had seen. “We have to help. If we leave him out there, les Boches will either capture or kill him.”
Ferrand listened carefully, then remained in thought for several minutes.
“You