ShadowShot : L'enfant Guerrier Page 9

  At one point I made the mistake of saying, “George this bastard was evil. I would’ve done him for free.”

  Damn. I shouldn’t have said that.

  He laughed and said, “Alright it was a successful mission. The Israelis owe us big. Your next job you do for free.”

  “Okay George.”

  Everything was said. Although he did ask me how it felt torturing the German.

  “I was hoping we weren’t going to have to talk about that. I didn’t really know how to answer him.

  What I said was, “When I was doing it I didn’t even have to think about it, I wished that I had more time with him. He deserved a lot more. Afterwards I felt dirty.”

  “Jack, sometimes those things have to happen. There is a difference in not having to think about doing something that you know must be done and enjoying it. If you don’t enjoy it, you’re okay. It’s when people enjoy doing these things that they become sick.”

  “There was something weird about it.”

  “What do you mean Jack?”

  “I don’t know. It was like I dreamed it before.”

  “Maybe you did. Our dreams are strange sometimes. Don’t worry about it.”

  13

  THE PSYCHIATRIST AND THE DOCTOR

  “Now that you are back in Paris, you will need to see a psychiatrist for a psychological evaluation. Don’t be alarmed. It’s just standard procedure. All of our top agents have to do it.” He laughed and said, “After that you’ll need some more training in Spain.”

  I realized then that George was a bigger dog in the company than he professed to be. The fact that he okayed that deal with me meant that he was pretty high up on the ladder. I had actually sort of suspected that. I was a little leery of going to this shrink but there was no choice in the matter. I had to do it. I went to the address. It was an apartment building. The number was on the second floor. No sign or anything on it. The door was answered by an older gentleman. He introduced himself as Ralph and asked me to sit down.

  The room was comfortably appointed, and of course had the proverbial leather couch. He seemed like a pretty mellow guy, and was doing his best to keep me relaxed. I was a little tense. He asked me questions about how it felt when I was in Norway and Germany. How did I feel about what I had done? He took notes assuring me several times that this was just standard procedure, nothing to worry about. Then he went back in time and asked me why I had become a mercenary and what was that like for me. Had I killed anyone in battle? I never knew exactly how much these people already knew. I wasn’t letting on to anything that I didn’t have to. We moved on to my childhood, what I remembered about that. Was there anything significant that was disturbing? I had nothing particular to hide there. I just told him everything I remembered; growing up in a small town, how my father taught me hunting and weapons, how I learned to handle myself in the woods.

  He asked where I learned to speak French. I told him from my mother and grandmother. They spoke French around the house and thought it was important that I learn. I’m glad that they did. I guess they lived in France before the war, before I was born.

  He said, “Oh did they ever speak much of how that was?”

  “No not really. They didn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

  “And where were you born?”

  “Why in the States of course.”

  I told him that sometimes I dreamed in French. He asked if I remembered any of the dreams when they were in French.

  I said, “No I never did.”

  “I understand that if the Company has a situation involving a Frenchman or an American, you are not willing to, shall we say, resolve it. Tell me Jack, why is that?”

  “Well Ralph my father taught me that you don’t hunt near your own home.”

  He said, “I see that makes sense.” He asked, “What is your earliest remembrance from childhood?”

  I told him that I had an accident when I was eight years old.

  He replied “Yes I see. When you had your physical in Spain they made mention of a scar on your back, and one on your head. What happened?”

  “Actually I don’t remember, because of the head injury I suppose. I was playing outside on a wall and slipped on the ice. There was a metal rod sticking up. I had the bad luck to land on it on my back and then cracked my head badly. I was in a coma for a long time. I was told I was lucky to have lived. It wouldn’t have taken much more to poke all the way through into my heart.”

  “Yes well you certainly are very physically conditioned. The accident didn’t seem to have any lasting physical effects. Do you exercise very much?”

  “No not really. I just stay active.” And then I made the mistake of making a joke. I said, “I’ve always been lean and mean.”

  “He smiled and said, “Do you feel mean very often?”

  “I was only making a joke Doc.”

  “I know but do you feel mean sometimes?”

  “I don’t think any meaner than anybody else.”

  “What kind of things make you angry?”

  I had to think about it for a moment. Then I said, “Injustice. The strong taking advantage of the weak.”

  “You know Jack, this new line of work that you’re going into could get you killed. What do you think about that?”

  “I have thought about that. I know somehow that it sounds strange but I never really have been afraid of death. Incapacitation, yes, that frightens me.” There was another fear, but something stopped me from telling him. I thought I better keep that one to myself.

  He said, “Is that why you joined the mercenaries? Had you been captured it could’ve been very ugly.”

  “Yes that’s true. I guess I just thought of it more as that won’t happen to me.” “Does it make you feel good that you’re helping your country, in your own way?”

  I said, “I may like being in Europe and I love France, but I’m true blue Yankee 100%. If I have to die in some way helping to save my country, then so be it. Of course I would prefer,” and I hesitated.

  He started to nod his head like yes of course you prefer not to.

  I continued, “I’d prefer to die in a Cavalry charge against insurmountable odds with the slain heaped around me.”

  I said that with a very straight face because believe it or not it was true. He just looked at me for a moment. I could see he believed me. I probably shouldn’t have told him that. He must’ve thought I was nuts, but then maybe nuts is what they were looking for.”

  “Jack, tell me. Have you ever been hypnotized before?”

  “No never. I have wondered about it before. I sometimes thought it would be interesting to see if it works for me. I mean maybe I could find out more about the first eight years of my life. It bothers me sometimes that I have no memory of my early childhood. I suppose most of us don’t remember much about the first few years of our lives anyway.”

  “Well actually hypnotism is part of what we do here, part of the routine examination. Perhaps we’ll find something interesting. Why don’t you go lie down on the couch over there, and make yourself comfortable. I believe I’ll have some tea. Would you care for some?”

  My mouth was becoming very dry so I nodded yes.

  “Good it will be coming right up. Then we’ll get started.”

  Later that afternoon George called the doctor. He said, “Well you certainly had him long enough. What is your evaluation?”

  “George, I hypnotized him. Did you know about his time with the German doctor?”

  “No. What German Doctor?”

  “Doctor Joseph Mengele, a.k.a., The Butcher.”

  “Stay put Ralph, I’m on my way over to you right now. Discuss this with no one, and I do mean absolutely no one.”

  When George arrived Ralph said, “This is absolutely amazing. He starts I gather somewhere at the end of his time in the resistance around 1943, which would have made him eight years old. I taped his whole session. We will listen to it first and then discuss it after. I took the liber
ty of condensing it to just his narration, so as to place the events in chronological order. It’s easier to listen to that way.”

  1943

  There were German patrols, looking everywhere for us. We ambushed one of those patrols and it went well. By the end of the shooting we had three German prisoners. They were questioned, tied with their hands behind their backs and on their knees. Peppy was about to execute them, as was his custom, when I walked up and said, “No let me do it.” He looked at me for a moment and then handed me his gun. He always did it from behind in the back of the head, but I wanted to see their faces. The first one looked at me like this wasn’t really going to happen. It did. I shot him in the heart. I moved to the second one. He looked like he could not believe that he was about to die. He didn’t have time to say anything. I pulled the trigger again and he slumped over dead. The third one was a younger soldier. He couldn’t have been more than in his early 20s. He started to beg for his life. I just shook my head. My hand was shaking so badly that when I fired I missed him even though I was only 6 feet from him. Peppy came over and took the pistol out of my hand and finished it.

  We found out from those soldiers that they were looking especially for us. The major’s lieutenant had not died. He identified me by my looks and my name. If the L’enfant Guerrier had been a myth, he was now real. I had made a mistake. You always made sure your enemy was dead. Young boys my age and size were being rounded up and taken to the lieutenant who was bedridden and convalescent, but very much alive, to see if he could identify any of them as being me. This was not good. I knew it would be hard on a lot of children. There was something else also. We had heard that the Gestapo was especially interested in finding me even beyond the usual revenge for one of their own men. Peppy decided that it was time to move farther away to another province. It was not safe entering any of the villages openly anymore.

  Unfortunately we didn’t make it. We ran into an ambush ourselves. Some men were hit and everyone scattered. Peppy tried to get to me but couldn’t. I took off running in the woods. I thought I was going to make it. Then I heard someone behind me. There was a German soldier running after me. The race was on. I tried dodging left and right because I felt at any moment I would hear the crack of a rifle. I looked back once and he was pointing it at me. There was another soldier coming up from behind him and yelling, “Nein. Nein.” The soldier’s long legs were gaining on me. He reached out and cracked me on the back of the head with the butt of his rifle.

  I woke up in a truck rumbling down a dirt road when a German kicked me. My hands were tied, but the back of the truck was open. I waited till I was focusing pretty well. When the truck slowed down to make a turn, I made a bolt for the back. I was going to jump out and hopefully roll, but instead I got cracked on the head again. I was out cold. When I woke up the next time, I was in a cell. They interrogated and beat me. There was no water, no food, and no medical care. I was lucky, since it wasn’t a problem for me to pass out. They wanted to know was I the L’enfant Guerrier. I told them yes and I was proud of it. I got some more kicks and punches for my brashness.

  They took me to the lieutenant. They wanted to be sure. I could tell they were pleased when he said, “Yes it’s him.”

  I expected him to start slapping me around, but instead he almost looked sad. The second day they finally brought me water. I was told that I was going to be taken to the square in the village and hung. They hadn’t been able to get any other information from me. There wasn’t really much I could tell them. None of the hiding places that we used would be used again. They wanted names, so I gave them some. I just made them up. I told them no one ever used their real names anyway. They wanted descriptions. I gave them only vague descriptions. They wanted numbers. I gave them more numbers that there really were, even though one of my make-ups got me a broken rib. That night a guard came with some water but no food. I don’t think I could’ve eaten anyway. My mouth was swollen shut and I had blood caked on me from multiple small wounds. My lips were badly swollen and bleeding. The water was greedily welcomed.

  The guard said the plan had been changed. They were not going to take me to the square to hang me. No point in making a little martyr out of me. They would just hang me here the next morning. He laughed, saying it was something for me to look forward to tonight. The next day came and went. A different set of Gestapo officers, more questions, more slapping around. Then it was night again. At least this time I had some water throughout the day. I don’t think they got what they wanted from me. I didn’t really care if they hung me. I was in a lot of pain.

  For some reason I wasn’t really scared. I didn’t care. I had lost everything; my Marie Claude, Suzette, Peter, Gerard, maybe even Peppy.

  I told them everything I could about myself except that my mother and grandmother lived in France. I then underestimated our numbers. I tried to look cooperative and scared. Basically, I told them that I could take them to the old camps, but they weren’t interested. They knew we wouldn’t use them again. Mercifully, I would pass out a lot. I welcomed death I wanted to be with Marie Claude. She said we would always be together. I wanted to be wherever she was and with Peppy too. I was sorry that I would never see my mother and grandmother again. I loved them even though I hadn’t seen them for so long. I knew they would be sad for me. I was sorry that I would never be able to kill Germans again. If it took dying to help save France, then so be it. I hoped I had done my part.

  That night the same fat red-faced guard, with bad breath, came again with water. He told me I was lucky that I had another day to live, but they had become displeased with me. Tomorrow the real pain would start. Then he kicked me. If only I had a knife. My last act would have been to kill him.

  Morning came. I heard some raised voices outside the cell. The door swung open and two officers entered; Jack boots, shiny uniforms, long leather coats. Maybe they were SS. They jerked me up on my feet and took me out into another room. But there was no rope. Instead they took me into what looked like a clinic. My wounds were attended to. I was fed some soup, washed and dressed in clean clothes and then drugged for the first of many times.

  When I woke up it appeared that I was in some kind of hospital, but there were bars on the windows. I tried the door and it was locked. After a short time, a German intern came in and asked how I was feeling. I was given some food, and he changed my bandages. He told me I would meet the doctor soon. I knew this was unlike any hanging that I could’ve imagined. I wasn’t sure what it was they were up to but I didn’t want to find out either. First chance I had to escape I would try, but I had to know where I was. It was important to find that out and to get my wounds fixed. My ribs still hurt a lot and my lips were still swollen. One eye was shut from the beatings. After what seemed like an hour the intern came back again and said the doctor had been delayed. In the meantime, he had been instructed to help me shower and give me some new clothes.

  “I think you’ll feel a lot better when I change those bandages again. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for the rib but to give you some painkillers and a hot shower.”

  It had been a long time since I had a hot shower. After the shower, which really did make me feel a lot better, the intern who seemed to be pretty nice changed all my bandages. I still didn’t trust him. He asked if I was hungry. I said I was starving.

  He said, “You will have to just be on soup and soft things for awhile. It will be hard for you to eat anything else with your lips like that. Don’t worry they’ll heal soon enough.”

  Soup it was. Soup was fine. It was a good soup and after eating I fell straightaway to sleep. It wasn’t until the next morning that the doctor came in and introduced himself. He told me his name was Doctor Joseph Mengele and he was the head doctor here.

  “I want you to know that you’re not going to be hurt or treated roughly like you have been. That’s not what we do here.”

  What a lie that turned out to be.

  “I am a medical doctor and first we are going
to get you back in good condition.”

  I said, “I’m not going to be hung then?”

  “No, no of course not. In fact I want you to know that it was me who saved you from hanging. They were very determined to put an end to you. That major you killed was from a very wealthy German family and they wanted to see you swinging on the end of a rope or worse. I probably would not have been able to save you if I had not gone to the Fuehrer himself. He was very sympathetic and thought you deserved another chance.”

  Did he really expect me to believe that? He seemed like he wanted me to thank him but instead I asked why he wanted to save me?

  He looked at me for a moment and then said, “Besides being a doctor I am a scientist. I found it very interesting that you were able to be such a fierce little warrior at such a very young age. How old are you now?”

  I told him I was eight years old.

  “You are tall for your age. We will talk again tomorrow or perhaps this evening. You need some sleep. So rest. Lunch will come soon.”

  He was back that evening and we talked some more. First he asked how I was feeling, if I was getting enough to eat, did I need anything special. I told him I was feeling a lot better and thanked him. I thought a little butter couldn’t hurt, so I said it was very kind of him to help me and take care of me, I didn’t want to lay it on too thick.

  He told me he wasn’t concerned with the resistance. All he wanted to know was how I felt each time that I had killed someone. It seems they connected me to the poisonings. I don’t know how. He told me that soon the Americans were going to join the Germans and help the fight against the Communists Russians. Russia was the real enemy and they had to be defeated. After they were defeated the Germans would leave France. The Americans already understood that Germany’s program of eradicating Jews and Gypsies and others was the best. The only thing to preserve free people in the world order.

  “It was most unfortunate that Japan had attacked the United States. The Japanese would be punished for this, and Germany will probably end up helping our American brothers. Why already plans were being made to end the war with England. They too realized that the true enemy was Russia.”