Fighting for liberty beats running away

South Otago High School year 9

IT was a cold, spring day during March, and German tanks lumbered towards Paris, billowing black fumes out the exhaust.

‘‘Stand your ground! Hold the flanks! Don’t let that scumbag Adolf win!’’ had all been shouted towards the fleeing troops.

Jean had run from things all his life. Running from bullies, his siblings, his tormentors. And when the local papers reported approaching German infantry, his first reaction was to get the hell out of there.

He had heard of the atrocities that Hitler and his men had rained upon Poland, and decided that no way was he going to be on the receiving end.

He laid back down on the hill that overlooked the grassy meadow his family worked on.

Should he pack everything and leave? Should he stay and hope the Germans treated him with basic human rights? Wouldn’t living kneeling be better than hanging in the town square?

‘‘No!’’ he thought angrily. What would happen to his loved ones if he let the Germans invade?

His mother, showing kindness where his siblings didn’t. Andrez, who was his lifelong friend, who always shared his bread. Anne, his Jewish girlfriend of six months.

He stamped his foot on the ground. He decided he would, for the last time, run. But not in cowardice. To defend his country, his nation, his home. To defend his family, friends, the peasants that he gave his share of Andrez’s bread to.

Why should he do nothing, and watch the Germans ruin his beloved country?

Some time later . . . An assortment of men and boys stood before the approaching Germans. They were one of the battalions that decided to stay. Better off dead than all cowards, they all thought.

They grabbed their guns, glanced at each other once more, and for the very last time, they ran.

‘‘Vive la France!’’