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The boy’s father, Pierre Albert, disappeared into the night. A long two hours later, a muffled boom sounded in the north, and from the dark backyard Marshall could see in the distance a blaze erupting bright enough to show its angry smoke.

5.

IN A SHOE BOX (LADIES’ PUMPS) TAGGED “FRANCE,” IN LORETTA’S curlicue handwriting, Marshall found several letters and photographs, some French coins, a map, and some memorabilia from the war years. In the bottom were the letters he was looking for—two from Pierre Albert, one in English, one in French.

ALBERT, PIERRE

PAINTER

CHAUNY (AISNE) FRANCE

6 FEBRUARY 1947

Dear friend,

I am sending you a little word to ask you what are you doing and to tell you that we are going very well and hope that you are the same since we see you. Here, everything is going very well. I am always in the peinture and my boy works with me. He is now a young gentleman and I am very glad to have him. My wife go very well too.

I hope that you are now with all your family and all the hard days that you passed are now finished.

Here in France, the situation is always very hard. We always have the ration but it’s going a little better than the time the Germs were here, but it’s not tomorrow that we will have like before the war. I think that we will have to waite 2 or 3 year before that everything go all right.

My wife and I would be very glad to have some of your news. I join here some photographs. I am your friend, and I send you all my best wishes from my wife and Nicolas.

Pierre Albert

Marshall remembered answering Pierre’s letter in French, laboriously, freeing the Frenchman to respond in his own language, which Marshall could read more easily now.

CHAUNY 3 APRIL 1947

Dear friends,

I received your letter with joy. I know that your return was not known without difficulty, but at last we are very happy that you have returned, in sum for you the war has ended.

We would be very happy to receive your visit and also your wife and your little son Albert and for us to count you among us again sometime, in order to speak of our old memories. At home you know we often speak of you. I will give you some explanations about my work with the Résistance, after you left. I made connection with the escape networks in Paris.

I profit some at the same time to make you know that Nicolas, my wife, and I wait in order to receive each the distinction “Medal of Freedom” by the American authorities.

In response to your questions I would tell you that the coffee, sugar, ham, soap, butter, rice, tobacco, are very rare, also the clothes and shoes. On the other page, we give you the dimensions for Nicolas, who is very large.

In the expectation of reading you and of seeing you, receive dear friends our good kisses to your little Albert from all our family.

Best wishes to you and your family and le petit Albert.

Pierre Albert

P.S. I beg you to pay attention for there are some thieves in course of the parcel’s route. Don’t forget to write how much money it will cost for all you will send.

Marshall was dismayed. He had answered Pierre’s first letter, but had he bothered to answer this second letter? He had been so eager to get on with his sun-kissed American life—new wife, baby, airline job—that he had neglected his French friends. He had never returned to Chauny. He didn’t even know if he had sent the goods Pierre had requested. Yet how well he remembered Pierre and Gisèle! And their son, Nicolas.

Nicolas: “Gary Cooper!”

Marshall: “Je ne suis pas Gary Cooper!”

Nicolas: “Tireur, tirez!” Shooter, shoot!

The child’s gestures had made Marshall homesick for western movies. With his revolver—something he should have ditched when he began his trek into hiding—Marshall had attempted a fast draw and a twirl, to sensational acclaim and pleas for repeats.

Nicolas: “Howdy, pard-ner.”

Marshall remembered secret bustlings, hurried dinners, and nighttime tappings on the door. Pierre went out to fight a war, while Marshall