Now that they understood the situation to some extent, Jörg suggested they turn invisible to carry out the next stage of their plan. “We’ll pin down what channels Fabrice is using to sell food on the black market, then feed his contact false information so they stop buying from him. That way, we should be able to secure that food for ourselves.”
“But then Mr. LeRoy won’t be able to get any more information from Berlin,” observed Lila. “He’ll figure out it was us.”
“We’ll use that as an opportunity to get Fabrice away from this job.”
“How?”
“I’ll explain in due time.”
Jörg spotted numerous pigeon coops as they walked through the village. They were constructed of nothing more than birdhouses and wire mesh, making it easy to see inside. Each structure held up to fifty pigeons. The birds hardly reacted when the two of them approached, instead focusing on basking in the sunshine.
“What strange-looking birdhouses,” Lila said curiously.
“These are lofts for carrier pigeons. The part covered in wire mesh is for them to move around in, and the board sticking out from that is for them to land on. When they’re being trained, pigeons are taken outside and taught to fly back to the landing board from wherever they’re released.”
“There sure are a lot of them.”
“They raise a lot of birds, but only a few of them will be good enough to use to send messages. Not to mention, pigeons die frequently during war. No matter how many they train, it isn’t enough.”
“So enemy soldiers shoot them?”
“They send hawks to attack them.”
“What?! The poor things…”
“That’s the most efficient way, apparently. Humans are selfish. They even involve other animals in their wars.”
The French prisoners were divided into groups of ten and sent to harvest the crops. It was already late in the year to dig up potatoes, and carrots would normally have already been brought in, so this was probably their last harvest for the year.
Armed German guards patrolled the fields, but they didn’t seem particularly intimidating.
“Why don’t they run away?” Lila asked Jörg. “There aren’t that many guards, and there are no fences or walls around the village, so it would be easy to escape if they wanted to.”
“They don’t know the land and don’t have any maps or food, so it would be almost impossible. It depends on the land, but if farmwork is easier than fighting, then it makes the most sense to wait out the end of the war here. Times may be tough, but at least they get something to eat.”
“But aren’t the internment camps unsanitary?”
“They are, so if a disease breaks out inside, it can wipe out people in the blink of an eye. Theoretically, international treaties protect the rights and lives of POWs, but in reality that’s not the case.”
The POWs didn’t return to the camp once they were done with their work for the day. During harvest season, they built living quarters in the village and lived alongside the residents. They would return to the internment camps once all the fields were bare, but until then, the prisoners worked just like the Poles and Russians hired during the busy seasons before the war. POWs worked the fields here, but others elsewhere worked in factories. International treaties provided some degree of protection for the rights of prisoners, but they were allowed to be used for labor, which every country used to their advantage.
As evening began to set in, some of the prisoners headed to the pubs. They couldn’t buy alcohol, but they could get a drink made from weeds that were roasted and strained. If they were lucky, a friendly villager might even sneak them some alcohol. It was in this way that relationships began to form between the farmwives and the French prisoners.
When Fabrice wasn’t in Hanna’s house or tending to the fields, he met with some of the women from other farms. They were a small, autonomous collective that he had organized.
“Why form another group when Ms. Hanna takes care of all the customers?” Lila asked.
“The amount of money he can make probably differs,” replied Jörg.
“Then is Mr. LeRoy charging more?”
“I’m sure there are people out there who would pay outlandish prices for whatever they can’t get from Hanna. Those who can afford to buy food on the black market view money differently than we do.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“First, let’s check out where they exchange the goods and try to find out who he’s meeting with.”
It wasn’t long before they got their chance.
One afternoon, a young farmwife spoke to Fabrice as he was working in the field, and Fabrice called out to the German guard before leaving. The guard didn’t seem put out, so this sort of thing must happen often. The woman led Fabrice to her house, where a group of fellow farmwives had gathered out front. From there, they all headed to a storehouse and began to lug heavy hemp bags outside. Based on the musty smell of earth and the size of the bags, it was clear they were filled with vegetables and grain. The women also brought out smoked sausages, which would keep for a long time.
Eventually, a cart drawn by a large horse pulled up to the farmwife’s house. An impressive horse like that would have immediately been requisitioned by the army, meaning the owner must have pulled some strings in the military to make them let him keep it. The man riding on the cart wasn’t a farmer, but a portly middle-aged man from the city, accompanied by a coachman steering the horse.
One by one, the women called out to the man, who bowed graciously and spoke familiarly with Fabrice. Listening in on their conversation, Jörg and Lila learned that the man was a trader named Oskar Gulke and that he came regularly to buy their food.
Oskar hopped down to the ground once the horse stopped and, with the help of the coachman, helped load the hemp bags onto the cart. Once they were finished, he removed a cloth pouch from his satchel and passed it to the young farmwife. She smiled as she took it, then walked into her house with the other women to divide the money among themselves.
Fabrice alone had stayed behind, and Oskar handed him an envelope.
“How’s the situation in Berlin?” Fabrice asked in German.
“Everyone’s doing their best to hang in there, but the downtown areas are beyond help. I can’t even guess how high the pile of corpses will be this winter.”
“What about the socialists and the communists?”
“They’re starting to take more drastic action. Russian agents have joined their ranks. The government’s also keeping a close eye on anyone with Slavic or Jewish roots. They don’t say it publicly, but as soon as anything happens, they arrest people on the basis of their ethnicity or political beliefs.”
“And the Spartacus Group?”
“Their momentum’s not slowing. If they keep going like this, they might even take power.”
“You’re kidding.”
“There’s enough resentment building up in Berlin for that to happen. The details are in there.”
Oskar climbed onto the cart and told the coachman to set off. There was still room in the back, so Oskar must also buy food from other farms.
Jörg and Lila followed after them.
Once he’d bought enough food from Kleinerbrunn, Oskar headed to Sylphestadt station, where he waited for a train. A freight train soon arrived, and they loaded the goods onto it. He paid the coachman, who climbed back up into the now-empty horse cart and drove it away from the station, while Oskar waited alone for the next passenger train.