Jacob wished he still had his watch. It had been his grandfather’s and had been the young man’s most prized possession. Such things as keepsakes and memories were of little importance to the Nazi pig who had taken it right off his wrist. The curfews, the checkpoints, the random searches were all part and parcel of the debasing rituals commonplace since the occupation.
To make up time, he cut through the tulip fields, pushing his bicycle along. He prayed he would be in time. The factory changed shifts every day at noon and, say what you would of the soldiers, they followed procedures dutifully.
As part of their inspection of the incoming workers, the guards would plunder the men’s lunches for treats or contraband. He smiled, imagining the surprised look of the soldier who would open his basket today when he realized that, in so doing, he had pulled the pin of the grenade within.