The High Calling

by Gilbert, Morris

  As his descent grew more erratic, he realized he wasn’t going to be able to land the plane. He released his seat belt and slid the canopy back, the wind roaring in his ears. He managed to turn the plane over, and he fell out as it did. He had heard of men getting caught by the tail, so he was careful to be well clear of the plane before pulling the rip cord. The chute opened, jerking Parker upward.

  He could hear the snarl of the guns in the distance, but he was already several miles from where the action was taking place. As he floated down, he scanned the area for enemy activity. He was heading for an open field, which was always dangerous.

  I’ve got to hide the chute and get away as fast as I can. I’m not about to spend the rest of this war in a German prison camp.

  He tried to recollect everything he had learned about making parachute jumps, but all he could remember was to land with the knees slightly bent to take the shock. The ground came up very quickly, and he hit with enough force to drive him to the ground. Rolling over, he was dragged along with the parachute as it bellowed out in the wind. He got up and pulled at the cord to collapse the chute, then gathered it up as best he could and ran for the nearby woods.

  He was almost there when a voice rang out, “Halt!”

  Parker groaned bitterly but did as he was told. Two German soldiers were coming out of the woods to his left. He put his hands up when he saw the bigger German aiming a Luger at him.

  “Englishman, you have killed your last soldier of the fatherland!” the man declared in heavily accented English.

  Parker nodded wearily. “It looks like you’ve got me. I guess I’ll sit out the war in one of your camps.”

  The big man sneered. “Nein, not in a camp. Your war is over right now. My two brothers were killed by the RAF, so now I do something for them.”

  The smaller soldier spoke to his comrade in German, and Parker could only hope he was arguing against shooting him.

  “Nein, Hans. I will shoot him myself. Why should he live when my brothers are dead? Say your prayers, Englishman.”

  Parker looked at the muzzle of the Luger. It seemed to grow larger, and a great weariness overcame him. So it ends here. Strangely enough, though, he felt no fear.

  The second soldier evidently made another plea, this time gesticulating wildly and seeming to get angry, but the other shook his head sharply.

  “No. I kill him now.”

  Scarcely were the words out of the big soldier’s mouth when a black spot appeared over his left eyebrow just as a gunshot rang out. The big man’s eyes rolled up and he slumped backward, falling limply to the ground.

  The smaller soldier immediately began to fire his own weapon, but then he doubled up and fell to the ground as well.

  Parker whirled to see three people coming out of the woods—two men and a woman, all of them armed. One of them spoke to him in French, but when Parker shook his head, the man said in rather bad English, “Your lucky day, pilot.”

  “Yes, it is. Who are you?”

  “Who do you think?” the woman said. “We’re partisans.”

  “Well, you saved me for sure. He was going to kill me.”

  “The pig!” spat the other man, who wore the rough clothes of a peasant. “We’ve got to get rid of them, Jacques.”

  “You two do that,” the woman said, “and I’ll get this soldier out of sight.”

  “You come with me!” the woman snapped and started running toward the woods. Parker ran after her, scanning the area for the enemy.

  When they reached the cover of the woods, she asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Parker Braden.”

  “My name is Marie. The smaller man is Jacques, my husband. Victor is our friend.”

  “How did you happen to be looking for me? You got here so quick.”

  “We always patrol the land under a battle. We were watching the fight in the sky.”

  Parker looked up and saw the distant air trails left by his squadron as they had escorted the bombers back.

  “Is there any chance of my getting back to England?”

  “You’re alive.”

  “And I’m grateful for it.”

  Marie led him to a very old little house with smoke coming from the chimney. “We’ll wait here for Jacques and Victor.”

  “Is this your house?”

  “It belongs to a couple who are friends of ours, but they’re dead now.” Her lips twisted. “They were shot by the Germans. They accused them of being partisans, but they weren’t.”

  She stepped into the house and Parker followed her. It was a typical French farmhouse, but it was sparsely furnished and quite run down.

  “Sometimes the English will fly a plane in here after dark. They tell us about it on the radio that we all share. They land and take pilots like yourself back.”

  “Can you contact them?” he asked.

  “We’ll have to find out where the radio is right now. In the meantime you’re going to have to stay hidden.”

  Parker was curious. “This is very dangerous work you’re doing,” he said. “Why are you helping us?”

  “The Nazis killed my parents,” she said bitterly, “so I do what I can to get the swine out of my country! We’ll have to get you some different clothes. There should be something that fits well enough in the back bedroom. You can’t wear that uniform.”

  ****

  Marie and Jacques watched out for Parker for two days, shuffling him from one house to another anytime they got word that Germans were nearby. Parker spent most of his time alone, praying fervently for a way to get home to his children. Even though he knew his parents were looking after the twins, it just didn’t seem fair for his children to lose both their mother and father in such a short period of time. Much to the French couple’s dismay, he fasted on his second day with them, spending much time on his knees pleading for a way to get out of France.

  On the third morning, Parker woke up to the sound of the wind howling against the windowpanes in the attic where he had slept. He looked out the small window and couldn’t see any blue above the dense trees.

  He washed up quickly and joined Jacques and Marie in the kitchen for bread and cheese, asking them for any information they had about the war in the immediate area. In turn Parker shared what he knew about the British effort.

  “The Germans are thick around here,” Jacques said.

  “Have you been able to set up any sort of rendezvous with a plane coming in?”

  “No. We only have the one radio in our group, and the man who had it last was taken and shot the same day. They don’t waste time with us,” Jacques said bitterly. “There’s no such thing as a trial or other little things like that.”

  After they had finished eating, Jacques said, “I’m going to take a look around—see if there’s any activity nearby.”

  Marie called after him, “Be careful, Jacques.”

  “I always am.”

  Marie went to the stove and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Do you want some?”

  “Please.”

  “This is the last of the coffee. It’s hard to get coffee—and everything else, for that matter.” Marie sat down opposite him. She was a small, plain women with no claims to beauty, but there was an intensity about her that set her apart from most women.

  “Are you married, Englishman?”

  “My wife was recently killed in an air raid.”

  “Ah.” She turned her head to one side. “You have children?”

  “Twins. A boy and a girl. They’re three years old now.”

  “Who is taking care of them?”

  “My parents—at our family home outside of London.” Parker soon found himself telling Marie about his visit to America and how he had fallen in love with an American woman.

  “But you didn’t marry her?”

  “I wanted to, but she felt that God had something better for her to do. She had a bigger destiny than just being a wife of an ordinary Englishman.”

  “So she would n
ot marry you?”

  “No.” He hesitated, then said, “Just recently she came to England.”

  “Oh, I smell a romance,” she said teasingly. She sipped her coffee. “Are you dating her again?”

  “No, not really.”

  “But your wife is dead. Now you can be together.”

  “I don’t think so, Marie.”

  “I will never understand you English.”

  “It’s probably best not even to try,” he said with a grin. “I’m going to spend some more time in prayer today. Let me know if Jacques learns anything.”

  “I will.”

  Parker climbed the stairs to the attic and settled onto his knees beside the mattress on the floor. “O Lord,” he began, “I am so glad to be alive and in this relatively safe place. Thank you for Jacques and Marie and the others who are looking out for my safety. I thank you that even now you know how this is all going to work out. I believe that you have a plan for getting me to safety, and I am so grateful that you are in charge of this whole situation.”

  He paused, listening to the wind howl outside the window. “Thank you for the sun and the moon, the wind and the calm.” His eyes popped open. “The wind! That’s it!” He closed his eyes again. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the answer.” He calmed himself down and listened patiently for God’s voice.

  After a few moments he stood up and ran down to the kitchen, where Marie was peering out the window. “Marie,” he started, “there must be a number of small boats up along the coast.”

  “Small boats. Ah, you are thinking of going across the Channel. That would be nice, but the coast is patrolled very well. German patrol boats go back and forth constantly. In the daytime, of course, planes watch every move.”

  “I’m pretty good with a sailboat. If I could borrow a boat, I could sail across the Channel and be home.”

  “I’m telling you, the enemy watches very carefully,” she insisted. “I think it’s best to wait until a British plane lands.”

  “Marie, when I was upstairs praying just now, God impressed upon me that I was to find a sailboat. I know it sounds risky, but I have to believe the idea came from God. And if the idea came from God, it has to succeed!”

  She looked skeptical, but she tilted her head and furrowed her brow in thought. “There is one big house on the coast, built by a wealthy Swiss man. He was a stockbroker, but he’s now back in Switzerland.”

  “Did he have a boat?” Parker asked quickly.

  “Yes. Two or three boats, in fact.”

  “Are any of them sailboats?”

  “Yes, one of them is a small sailboat.” She looked at him seriously. “It would be very dangerous.”

  “No more dangerous than what I’ve been doing every day.”

  “You’re convinced this idea is from God?”

  “Yes, I’m sure of it. I’m a danger to you anyway.”

  “Come, we will ask Jacques what he thinks.”

  ****

  Jacques was not hard to persuade. He was a rather pragmatic fellow, and when Parker told him what he wanted to do, he shrugged. “We can try it. We’ll help you get to the coast, but I’ll warn you again that they patrol these waters very closely.”

  “With these clouds covering the moon, that’ll help.”

  “Do you want to try it tonight?”

  “Yes, definitely. If the wind keeps up into the night, it’ll take me no time to get across the Channel.”

  “All right. After supper we’ll make our way to the coast—it’s only about four kilometers from here. Then when it gets dark, we’ll break into the boathouse and get the sailboat.”

  “Thank you so much. I’ll never forget the kind French people who saved my life.”

  ****

  “Don’t make so much noise,” Marie whispered. She handed the crowbar to Jacques, and he began to pull the hasp off the doors to the boathouse.

  “It’s impossible to do without making a little noise,” he whispered. “Besides, we know there’s nobody in the house right now.”

  “Yes, but we need to be quiet anyway,” Marie insisted. “Don’t be any louder than you have to.”

  Parker had a pistol in his hand, the Luger Jacques had taken from the dead German who had wanted to kill Parker. His nerves were at a fine pitch, but he was excited. This was better than sitting and waiting for someone to come and get him. “Can you get it off?”

  “Yes.” The hasp came free, and Jacque flung the doors open.

  The three entered the boathouse, and Marie lit the torch she had brought.

  “There! That’s what I want!” Parker said.

  “Are you sure you want that little boat?” Marie asked. “I’d be afraid it would swamp.”

  “It won’t if he knows how to handle it,” Jacques said. “I’ve seen our Swiss friend take it out many times.”

  “It looks like everything is here,” Parker said as he checked the boat over. “I used to spend a fair amount of time sailing back before the war started.”

  They hauled the sailboat out of the boathouse and slid it onto the beach.

  “I can’t thank you two enough for what you’ve done.”

  “You can do us a favor, then. Kill more Germans,” Jacques said with a grin.

  “That American woman we talked about,” Marie said. “Don’t let her get away again like you did the first time.”

  “Thank you for that advice, Marie. When I get back to England, I’m going to have a plane come back and bring you what you need. I’ve got the list you gave me. You’ll have radios and all the other things you said you could use.”

  “We’ll be waiting for the drop,” Jacques said. “Now be on your way. You need to get far away from here as fast as possible.”

  “God go with you,” Marie said.

  “And God be with you both.” Parker shook hands with Jacques and then pushed the boat into the water, climbing in as he did so. He ran the sail up and began to paddle. The wind caught the sail immediately and he felt the boat surge forward; then the darkness closed around him.

  It was the best of all nights, he thought as he cut through the dark water. He thought of the many times he had sailed merely for pleasure. I’m sailing for my life now. He could hear nothing but the slapping of the waves against the hull, and the wind among the sails was like the rustling of silk.

  Get me home, God, he prayed and then settled down. There was nothing he could do except pray and steer the boat. The best of all outcomes would be if he managed to elude the Germans long enough to be picked up by an English boat. He looked up into the skies and saw a solitary star shining out from a break in the thick clouds. He remembered a nursery rhyme that his nanny had taught him, and he whispered it:

  “Star light, star bright

  First star I’ve seen tonight.

  Wish I may, wish I might

  Have the wish I wish tonight.”

  He laughed. He was overcome with gratitude that he was close to freedom and hadn’t ended up in a German POW camp. Whatever happened now would be up to God.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  No Higher Calling

  “ . . . And so the big black bear and the little white bear laughed, and they ran away so that the hunters were never able to catch them. And they lived happily ever after.”

  “Another story!”

  “No, Heather. That’s all the stories for right now. I’ll tell you another story this afternoon.” Kat had gotten into the habit of telling the children a story to begin the day as well as one before their nap and one at bedtime.

  “Come on, children,” Mrs. Henderson said as she came into the bedroom. “Let’s get you dressed.”

  Kat went downstairs and found her way to the kitchen. She sat down at the table with Gregory and Grace. “That is absolutely the worst-looking robe I have ever seen, Lord Braden,” she said with a grin.

  “I’m going to have to steal it from him and get rid of it,” Grace said. “It’s his security blanket.”

  “Let
me get you some coffee, my dear,” Gregory said and started to get up.

  “No. I’ll get it.” She went to the stove and poured some coffee into one of the china cups. The three of them sat and talked about the children. She had been there for four days, and there had been no news at all about Parker. His parents had tiptoed around mentioning his name, Kat had noticed, but she herself spoke about him as if he were just away on a short visit.

  “After the war is over,” she asked, “what have you and Parker planned to do about the cattle?”

  “We haven’t made any specific plans,” Gregory said. “Parker has always liked the farm better than the factory. He always talks about getting more land.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Grace said with a nod. She started to say something else, then apparently changed her mind. “What about your friend Meredith?”

  “Oh, she’s going to marry Brodie.”

  “That was rather sudden, wasn’t it?” Grace asked.

  “I think it was, but Brodie’s a different man since he found the Lord.”

  “From what you’ve told us about him, he must have been a rather wild young fellow,” Gregory commented.

  “Yes, he was, but he’ll have a good wife to keep him straight now.”

  The morning sun was streaming through the windows, and Grace suddenly said, “I don’t know what we would have done without you, my dear.”

  “That’s right,” Gregory agreed. He reached over and patted her hand. “The children are so good with you. They don’t listen to a thing I say.”

  “That’s because you spoil them,” Grace teased.

  Kat was feeling restless. “I think I’ll go over to the pastures and see the new calf.”

  “And Hercules?” Gregory grinned. “You love that animal still.”

  “Well, I guess I do.” She took Gregory’s hand and held it in both of hers. “He’s going to come home, Gregory,” she said quietly. She looked into his eyes and then turned to Grace. “We mustn’t give up on God.”

  The couple sat there as Kat left the room; then they watched her out the window as she headed for the pastures. “If only Parker had married her,” Gregory said with a sigh.