George puts the wallet in a locked box of special things he keeps under his bed. The wallet, the final record of a young man who was born in Germany and died in France—that will be George’s forever, something to pass on to his son or even his grandson, along with the story of how he came to own it.
He fastens the lock and tucks the key under a loose floorboard in a far corner of the room. Rest in peace, he says silently, not just to Gerhardt, but to his brother and all the other fallen boys. He’ll think of them when he’s back in the thick of things. Think of them—and strive always to be courageous, to honor their sacred memory.
Aidan and Sally are treated as heroes when they come home—even more than Mrs. McAllister’s rousing speech, the story of how these two young people put themselves in grave danger encouraged the whole village to turn out for their boys. There’s a special assembly at school, and a party at the local tea shop, at which several officials make speeches and shake their hands. A photographer and reporter are there too, and their picture ends up on the front page of the local paper.
All told, over three hundred thousand soldiers, British, French, and Belgian, were saved by the evacuation—three hundred thousand young men who lived to tell the tale of their harrowing adventure and returned to continue the fight.
“I was scared,” Aidan confesses to Sally. Well after the party has ended, they are sitting in the room at the top of the lighthouse. “So scared.”
“Scared?” says Sally. “I was terrified. But somehow we got through anyway, didn’t we?”
“We certainly did.”
They sit in silence for a moment, musing about their adventure. Sally’s still wearing a bandage on her head, though she’s feeling stronger every day. Still, Nurse Billingham has warned her against doing anything even remotely dangerous, including riding a bicycle.
Aidan looks out at the sea, which is a steel blue with foamy, white-capped waves today. He likes being able to see out so far—there are fishing boats, a couple of rowboats, and even a sailboat, though he doesn’t recognize whose it is. Everything seems peaceful and safe, but he knows it’s just an illusion. Yes, these vessels and others like them have succeeded in bringing the boys back home, but the war is far from over. There’s still fighting on the Continent, and some people say it’s only just getting started.
“George is going back to the front soon,” he says.
“How soon?” Sally asks.
“Tomorrow, I think.”
Sally is quiet for a moment before saying, “Your mum and dad—they must be very worried.”
He nods. “They are, my mum especially. But they know he has to go.”
“And you know that too, right?” asks Sally.
“Just like all the other courageous boys who go.” Aidan continues to look out at the water. There’s no controlling it, he realizes. The waves rise and fall, the tides go in and out, all governed by their own laws. It’s just like the war, he thinks. There’s no controlling what happens on the battlefield or in the air. War has no laws, no logic. The outcome is uncertain. “Anyway, we proved a thing or two, didn’t we?” he asks her.
“I suppose we did. We showed the whole village that being afraid wasn’t enough of a reason not to do something.”
Aidan knows that he’s less afraid now than he once was. That dream about the wall of water? He’s had it only once since his return to the village. And to his amazement, the ending was different. Though the wave in the dream crashed over him, he wasn’t sucked under to drown like his poor brother. Instead, he popped up on the other side of it, bobbing lightly in the undertow, like a piece of cork. “The goodwill of all those other people, our mums and dads, and ordinary people just like them—just like us—really makes a difference,” he says.
“Yes, it does,” Sally says.
“George says that in some ways, the war is just beginning,” says Aidan. “And I think he’s right. But if everyone pulls together, like we did, well then, maybe we’ll win.” He turns away from the water to look at Sally. “Yes, I really believe that we will.”
Since it’s safe to say none of you have been to England during the 1940s, you might not know some common British slang and expressions.
BEF—British Expeditionary Force
Blighty—Nickname for England
Clobber—Slang for duffel bag and clothing
Clove hitch—A type of sailor’s knot
CO—Commanding officer
Daft—Common British term meaning “crazy” or “mad”
Debus—Get off of a bus or truck
Football—The British use this term for the game we call soccer
Jerry—Slang for German soldier
Petrol—Gasoline
RAF—Royal Air Force, the airborne division of the British army
Stone—British measure of weight equal to about fourteen pounds
Tommy—Slang term for a British soldier
Union Jack—Name for the flag of England
The official start of World War II was on September 1, 1939, when German troops invaded Poland. Germany was led by Adolf Hitler, who was also the head of the Nazi party. Under Hitler’s leadership, the Nazis were intent on destroying groups they saw as inferior: mainly the Jewish people, but also other minorities such as Roma, homosexuals, and people with physical and developmental disabilities. Anyone who opposed the Nazi regime was also considered an enemy and was subject to imprisonment, punishment, or even death.
Great Britain and France responded to this attack on Poland by declaring war on Germany. Soon other countries joined in on either side of the conflict. The war was fought between the Axis powers (chiefly Germany, Italy, and Japan) and the Allied forces (chiefly Great Britain, the Soviet Union, and France). At first, the United States resisted getting involved in the conflict, but on December 7, 1941, Japanese fighter planes bombed the naval base at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. The attack occurred on a Sunday morning and caught the men completely by surprise. After this, the United States felt compelled to declare war on Japan and joined the war effort alongside the Allied Powers.
At first, the fighting was contained in Europe, but it soon spread throughout the world. Most battles took place in Europe, Southeast Asia, and the Pacific Ocean. It was the deadliest war in all of human history—around fifty million people were killed and many more were wounded.
At first it looked as if the Germans would win the war, and the fighting was long and bloody. Eventually, the tide turned and even Germany’s allies, the Italians, turned against them. On April 30, 1945, Hitler committed suicide in his hidden bunker. Germany surrendered on May 7, 1945, and the war in Europe officially ended.
But the war continued in Asia, and did not end until the Americans dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945. The war in the Pacific finally ended when Japan surrendered on August 14, 1945.
1939
Hitler invades Poland on September 1. Britain and France declare war on Germany two days later.
1940
Rationing starts in the UK.
German “Blitzkrieg” overwhelms Belgium, Holland, and France.
Winston Churchill becomes prime minister of Britain.
British Expeditionary Force evacuated from Dunkirk.
British victory in Battle of Britain forces Hitler to postpone invasion plans.
1941
Hitler begins Operation Barbarossa—the invasion of the Soviet Union.
The Blitz continues against Britain’s major cities.
Allies take Tobruk in North Africa and resist German attacks.
Japan attacks Pearl Harbor, and the US enters the war.
1942
Germany suffers setbacks at Stalingrad and El Alamein.
Singapore falls to the Japanese in February—around 25,000 prisoners taken.
American naval victory at Battle of Midway, in June, marks turning point in the Pacific war.
Mass murder of Jewish people at Auschwitz begins.
1943
&
nbsp; Surrender at Stalingrad marks Germany’s first major defeat.
Allied victory in North Africa enables invasion of Italy to be launched.
Italy surrenders, but Germany takes over the battle.
British and Indian forces fight Japanese in Burma.
1944
Allies land at Anzio and bomb monastery at Monte Cassino.
Soviet offensive gathers pace in Eastern Europe.
D-Day: The Allied invasion of France. Paris is liberated in August.
Guam liberated by the US; Okinawa and Iwo Jima bombed.
1945
Auschwitz liberated by Soviet troops.
Soviets reach Berlin: Hitler commits suicide and Germany surrenders on May 7.
Atomic bombs are dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki; Japan surrenders on August 14.
*Events that involve Britain are in boldface.
In my fictional telling of this story, I tried to remain as close to the actual time line as possible. But since the events described here are not actual history, I took some liberties so I could move back and forth between Aidan’s viewpoint and his brother George’s. I also deliberately didn’t use the name of an actual English village along the coast so that I could be free to let the story go where it took me.
May 20, 1940
Sensing an imminent and devastating loss, British prime minister Winston Churchill orders the preparation of vessels to evacuate the British Expeditionary Force from northern France.
May 20, 1940
Major battlefield losses across France and the Low Countries force a change in leadership, and Allied commander General Maurice-Gustave Gamelin is replaced by General Maxime Weygand.
May 24, 1940
Adolf Hitler orders his forces not to cross the Lens–Bethune–St-Omer–Gravelines line, which allows the retreating Allied forces more time to reach the French coast.
May 24, 1940
German Luftwaffe bombs Allied defensive positions in and around the French port city of Dunkirk.
May 25, 1940
The German army takes Boulogne, which is in France. More and more retreating Allied units arrive in Dunkirk.
May 26, 1940
Hitler orders his army forces toward Dunkirk to deliver the final blow to the Allied cause.
May 26, 1940
At 6:57 p.m., Operation Dynamo, the all-out evacuation of Allied forces from Dunkirk, officially begins. Over 850 civilian vessels take part in helping military forces from France to awaiting transports.
May 28, 1940
The Belgian army surrenders to the Germans. This buys the Allies time, and by the end of the day, 25,473 British soldiers have been evacuated from France.
May 29, 1940
Another 47,000 British troops are evacuated from Dunkirk.
May 30, 1940
Around 6,000 French soldiers join the 120,000 total Allied soldiers evacuated from Dunkirk on this day.
May 31, 1940
Over 150,000 Allied soldiers (including 15,000 who are French) arrive in Britain.
June 4, 1940
German Luftwaffe bombers end their bombing of Dunkirk.
Operation Dynamo, the largest military evacuation in history, officially ends: 338,326 soldiers are saved, including 113,000 French troops.
Borden, Louise, and Michael Foreman (Illustrator). 1997. The Little Ships: The Heroic Rescue at Dunkirk in World War II. New York: Margaret K. McElderry Books.
Bowen, R. Sidney. 1941. Dave Dawson at Dunkirk. New York: Crown Publishers.
Holland, James. 2011. Duty Calls: Dunkirk. New York: Puffin Books.
Jackson, Robert. 1976. Dunkirk: The British Evacuation, 1940. London: Cassell.
Lord, Walter. 1982. The Miracle of Dunkirk: The True Story of Operation Dynamo. New York: Viking.
Sebag-Montefiore, Hugh. 2006. Dunkirk: Fight to the Last Man. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
Turn the page for a preview of The Bicycle Spy by Yona Zeldis McDonough!
A gust of wind cut across Marcel’s face as he cycled furiously down the street. He was riding as fast as he could, and he pushed even harder on the pedals of his trusty blue bike, but the bumpy cobblestone streets of Aucoin were not exactly made for speed. Still, he had to hurry. Just a little while ago his mother had come into his tiny room, with its narrow iron-framed bed, desk, and old armoire crammed in the corner, demanding that he get up and run this errand for her. She said it was very important.
“Can’t it wait?” he had said. “It’s so cold out.” It was late Sunday morning, and he and his family were back from church. He was warm and cozy under a small blanket, reading an out-of-date magazine about French-born René Vietto, the second-place winner of the 1939 Tour de France.
“No,” she said. “It can’t. You have to bring this loaf of bread to Madame Trottier right now.” Her tone was unusually stern.
So with a big sigh, Marcel set aside the magazine, ran his fingers through his mop of curly hair, straightened his tortoiseshell glasses on his nose, and reached for his jacket. He’d have to finish the article later.
Ever since Marcel had gone with his cousins and his father to see the Tour three years ago, he’d been practically obsessed with the big bicycle race and was looking forward to seeing it again. Riders from all over the world participated in the grueling competition, which was broken up into stages and went on for days. But in the spring of 1940, Germany invaded France, and shortly after that, the German army marched into Paris. The Tours de France had been canceled indefinitely. Now it was 1942, and the Occupation had dragged on for two long years. Who knew how long it would last or when the race would start up again?
The bumpy cobblestones made the bike shake. But Marcel wouldn’t let that stop him. He knew that in 1939, the spring classic Paris-Roubaix bicycle race included fifteen or more cobbled sections as part of the grueling 200-plus kilometer course. Some were even steep hills.
He had just rounded the corner of the street where Madame Trottier lived when suddenly a streak of orange flashed across the road. Zut alors! He jammed his feet on the brakes hard and swerved just in time to miss hitting a very large ginger cat. The cat looked annoyed but not especially alarmed. What a relief. He would have hated to be responsible for squashing a cat on the cobblestones. He liked cats—his parents kept a pair of tabbies in the bakery over which they lived because they were good mousers. Sometimes when his mother wasn’t looking, he would feed them scraps from his plate. They would lick his fingers with their rough, pink tongues and purr almost too softly to hear.
The ginger cat padded away unharmed but a girl darted out into the street and scooped the cat up in her arms. She had blue eyes and black hair plaited into two tight braids. Under her gray coat, he could see the hem of her dress, which was also blue.
“Bad kitty!” she said. “You could have been hurt.”
“Is he okay?” Marcel asked. He thought so, but he wanted to be sure.
“It’s a she,” said the girl. “And she’s fine, thanks.” Still cradling the cat in her arms, she walked away.
Marcel stood staring after her. He had never seen her before. Maybe she was new in town. She looked like she was around his age, and she was pretty—not that he cared about stuff like that. He wasn’t interested in girls. He thought they were bossy and gossiped too much. Also, they cried at the least provocation. And not one of them he knew had the slightest interest in what he considered the most important thing in life: cycling.
But why was he even standing here thinking about this? He’d promised his mother he’d hurry, and if he didn’t, she would be annoyed. He loved his mom, but she did have a tendency to nag—about cleaning up, washing his hair, helping out in the bakery. Moms were like that.
When he finally reached Madame Trottier’s house, he’d been pedaling so hard that despite the chilly day, he was sweating. “Merci,” she said, taking the bread from him. “Tell your mother I appreciate it very much.”
“I will,” said Marcel. He pedaled home more slowl
y, passing the string of shops that lined the street: butcher, cheese store, greengrocer, café, and, on the corner, bakery. On the other side of the street was a store that sold clothes, another that sold hats, and a third that sold toys. That one used to be his favorite, but now that he was twelve, he was a little too old to stop in anymore. There was also a tailor, a tiny shop that sold used books, and the town’s old church, St. Vincent de Paul. He passed a few other people on bicycles as well. Bicycles were just a part of life here, and a good way to get around quickly. People young and old rode them almost everywhere.
The only thing that was unfamiliar in all this was the presence of the soldiers.
When the Germans had invaded France, they swarmed all over Paris and lots of other cities in the north. Marcel had seen the headlines in the newspapers and heard about it on the radio that Papa kept on a table in the front room. Aucoin, however, had been in the Free Zone since the invasion in 1940. That meant it was not occupied by Germans and they had not seen many soldiers here.
But in the last two weeks, that had all changed. On November 11, the Germans invaded the Free Zone, too, and now soldiers from France and even Germany had started to appear in the town square or at the market. He also noticed more gendarmes—police—patrolling the town.
The French soldiers wore belted olive green jackets and helmets. In other circumstances, he might have admired them. But given the presence of the Germans and the gendarmes, they made his little village seem like a strange and scary place. A lot of other people thought so, too, and quietly cursed the soldiers when they were not in earshot. People said that they were working hand in hand with the Germans and called them collabos, which was short for collaborators. Whatever they were called, Marcel feared and distrusted them. He wished they would all go away.
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