Date: Tue, 26 Jun 2007 16:46:43 +0200
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: Malgre tout 09/13 (Historical)

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MALGRE TOUT
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2007
written on October 18, 1993
translated by the author
English text kindly revised by John

-----------------------------

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"MALGRE TOUT" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes
of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and
so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this
story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you
think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.

-----------------------------

CHAPTER 9 -- War Goes On

They again sat on the grass.

Kurt pointed at the sun, "Warm."

"Yes, it feels good."

"You and I naked? You and I kiss and love?" Kurt invited him, in a
cunning and perky way.

"Yes, come..." Jacques said, opening in a wide smile.

He stood up in front of his friend. They started to undress each other
until they were completely naked. They contemplated each other. Kurt
leaned his fingertips, lightly, on Jacques' chest, then on his sides,
belly, thighs, then on the inner part of them, until he reached and
caressed his nascent erection.

Jacques drew nearer him and girdling his waist in his arms, bent down to
suckle his nipples. Kurt shuddered and caressed his cheek. Jacques
played for a while with the tip of his tongue on the hard nipple of his
friend, then went down to lick his chest, belly, to then go up again to
suck the other nipple.

"Again..." the boy panted, enraptured.

Jacques smiled at him and, moving onto the other nipple and laying his
hands on Kurt's sides, again started his journey with his lips and
tongue. When he was again at Kurt's belly, crouching in front of him, he
cupped with his hands his buttocks and pulled Kurt to himself, leaning
his cheek on his friend's tense belly.

Kurt's erection vigorously throbbed against his chest, and Jacques moved
slightly to make it brush against him. Then he parted a little from him,
took in is hands his beautiful genitals and, instinctively, bent his
head to kiss them with veneration. He felt Kurt shudder strongly and
understood that feeling the lips on his member gave him pleasure. He
then put out his tongue and with its tip he tested the beautiful hard
rod, making it slip all along it.

Kurt shuddered even more strongly and emitted a low moan of pleasure.
Jacques felt his friend's pleasure, so he persisted. He licked up and
down the entire rod, putting his tongue out further, at times using the
tip at times the flat, happy he had discovered a new way to give
pleasure to his boy. Kurt seemed to be in ecstasy, his legs started to
tremble and he moaned loudly. Kurt's hands were caressing Jacques' head,
neck and shoulders. They went on so, until Kurt was all of a shudder.

Then he bent down, took Jacques under his armpits making him stand up
again.

"Wait..." he whispered and kissed him in the mouth, embracing him tightly.

Then it was Kurt's turn -- he wanted to go the same way with his lips and
tongue on Jacques. They were learning, one with the other, one on the
other, and one for the other the ways of eroticism. They were
discovering the most sensitive points of the friend's body and what was
pushing them in this research and discovery was the desire to give
greater and better pleasure to the friend.

Kurt was using his limited experience with girls, with whom he didn't
anyway made love with all these wonderful erotic preliminaries, partly
because of their mutual shyness, partly because they had to do it hiding
and hurriedly, so that they rapidly reached coition and orgasm. Jacques,
however, had seen on that one occasion how two men can unite, and he
wanted to get to that, but those long preliminary games made him
understand he should not have to hurry, therefore he hadn't yet tried to
open his way between Kurt's beautiful small buttocks. What they were
doing, was pleasing him enough, for the moment.

Kurt spread the blanked and they laid down on it, under the sun. They
started to kiss again, to lick and suck each other all over their
bodies. So, without anybody having taught them, and neither having ever
heard of it, they found themselves  licking each other's member at the
same time, lying down, each on his side in front of the other.

Jacques was the first to think to uncover his friend's glans to lick it,
and who then thought to replace the tongue with his lips, and who then
made slip all his friend's rod between his lips and who thought he could
masturbate him with his lips instead that with the hand... Jacques had
"invented" the blowjob! And from there to unite in a passionate
sixty-nine, the was a short step.

While Jacques was for the first time in his life sucking a member, the
image of a calf suckling from a cow came to his mind and, smiling, he
thought that after all, from that rod also would soon come out a liquid
white like milk... and asked himself what could be its taste... and decided
he wanted to savor it.

When he felt his friend shudder more and more intensely, he understood
he was bringing him to his orgasm and sucked more greedily and with a
will, making it slip further down, into his throat, squeezing his little
ass in his hands, rummaging with his fingers between the firm buttocks,
teasing his hole where he knew that sooner or later he would enter.

Kurt became suddenly stiff and waves upon waves of warm juice gushed
from his member, at once greedily sucked up and swallowed by Jacques
who, at that discharge, reached his orgasm in his turn in Kurt's mouth.
And also the Prussian boy drank, surprised but determined to do as
Jacques was doing. They went on sucking each other until the last drop
was extracted. Then they kissed it, until Kurt turned round, embraced
his friend tightly and gave him a tender kiss on a cheek.

"<Making love with you is more and more wonderful!>" he sweetly whispered.
"<I really like it very much. And I like being in your strong arms. And I
really believe I'm falling in love with you...>"

Jacques was feeling as if carressed by the incomprehensible whispering
of his friend-lover. He couldn't understand what Kurt was telling him,
but he could feel he was happy being with him like that and this
sufficed him. Through the skin of their bodies, their souls were
directly communicating, without language or problems with words. German
language, that at first seemed him so rude, so hard and not musical, now
was sounding at his ears like a very sweet and beautiful melody.

"It's incredible how love transforms everything, isn't it so, Kurt? How
two enemies can discover they are, on the contrary, more than friends.
How two unknown people can get to feel they deeply know each other. You
are now, to me, more important, and close, and precious than Sylvestre
and Michel. We still have few words in common to talk and yet... I
understand you all the same. You are telling me that you love me, aren't
you? Your hands, your eyes, your lips, the sound of your voice tell me
so... And you are understanding what I'm telling to you, aren't you?"

"<One day perhaps we can also tell each other many things, many beautiful
things with words also. You will teach me your beautiful language, as
you are now teaching me to make love. You'll help me to be more and more
immersed in you, won't you? Because you and I are becoming more and more
united, more and more only one thing, aren't we? Yes, I'm really falling
in love with you...>"

They went on to talk to each other, in that kind of dialog which they
had got used to in the days spent together, in which each of them
enjoyed the sound of the other's voice, of his inflections, his tone,
even though they couldn't enjoy of the meaning.

They went to wash each other at the brook then, using the sharp
jack-knife, they carefully shaved their faces. Then they dressed and
resumed their way.

"<I would have never believed I could look at a boy, a male, finding him
not only beautiful but also desirable!>" Kurt said suddenly.

Jacques looked at him and read admiration in his friend's eyes. "If you
look at me so... you make me want to make love again. You..." he said.

"<I, once, was feeling aroused looking at the buxom breast... but now for
the first time I feel aroused just to look at a boy, at a male...>"

"Who knows if a day we can have a house, or at least a room, of our own,
where we can live together our intimacy?"

"<Or possibly I'm aroused just when I look at you... because it's you?>"

"... with a wide mattress like the one my Dad and Mum had..."

"<You already made love with other boys, before me?>"

"... where we can make love any time we feel like..."

"<Possibly here in France is common for boys to make love... who knows?>"

"... near a nice fireplace, with the fire, in winter..."

"<In my country I think it is not done... or at last nobody ever talks
about it.>"

"Who knows why two men can make love only in hiding? Why people say it
is wrong? They don't know how beautiful it is?"

"<Evidently in Prussia nobody knows it is so beautiful.>"

The two young men were not conscious of how much their speech was
touching almost the same subject. But their eyes were shining for the
same happiness, the same awareness that they were in love with each
other, and were loved by the other.

"Jacques?"

"Yes, love?"

"You speak Kurt French and Kurt hear and Kurt little little speak French
and Kurt repeat French of Jacques... Good?"

"Yes, I will teach you. You are already learning well."

"You say thing simple to Kurt, and Kurt understand and repeat. Good?"

"Yes, love, sure!"

So Jacques started to teach his language to his friend in a conscious
and systematic way, to correct him when he spoke, to make him repeat.
And Kurt, thanks to his exceptional memory, was rapidly learning.

"No to speak. I speak, you speak, he speaks... do you see?"

"Ah, yes. I speak French and German. You speak only French! Yes?"

"Yes, good. My name is Jacques. And you, what is your name?"

"My name is Kurt and your name is Jacques."

"Good! And how to you call this?"

"I call this nose."

"No -- this is a nose. Repeat."

"This is a nose and is mouth."

"...and this is a mouth..."

"This is a mouth." Kurt repeated, satisfied.

So, walking and making French lessons, the two boys continued their
journey. They were trying to walk halfway up the hills, without going
right up the mountain or down to the river. At one point they crossed a
road and saw a line of people and loaded mules coming towards them.

"Kurt, play the idiot brother, now..." Jacques said him.

The boy smiled and played his part.

When Jacques was abreast of the first man, made him a greeting gesture.

The man answered with a "Good day!"

Jacques then, walking at his side, asked him, "Sorry, where does this
road lead?"

"Back there to Sedan, and up here to Belgium."

"Ah, so you are going to Belgium?" Jack asked, at once interested.

"No, the borders are closed. The King of Belgium's soldiers let nobody
pass."

"But why they don't let folk pass the border?"

"Eh, that's the war. Everybody would escape to Belgium. But where are
you coming from?"

"Oh, we are from Givry."

"Givry? Never heard of..."

"Prussians have destroyed our house and everybody died and only my
brother and I are still living..."

"But what's up with your brother?"

"He's deaf-and-dumb since he was a child"

"Oh, poor thing... And where are you going?"

"We were trying to go to Belgium, where an uncle lives..."

"Yes, I see. But as long as this war lasts, nobody can pass. Where is
your uncle living?"

"Is the town on the river, as you enter Belgium..." Jacques said, as he
didn't know the name of any town.

"Along the Meuse?"

"Yes, sure."

"Well... first there is Dinant... then Namour..."

"He lives in Dinant, yes!" Jacques said, memorizing those names.

"Then it is not suitable for you to go along this road. You had better
go down to the Meuse and who knows if along that road you can get past...
Also, because anyway this damned war has to come to an end, one day or
another! It seems that the Prussians are about to take Paris too.
Gambetta and Favre are trying to resist, but the Prussians seem to be
too strong, or so I've heard."

"There are Prussians, in Sedan?"

"Yes, sure, for two months now."

"And... how are they?"

"Bof, one ruler is worth another. Before we paid taxes to Napoleon, now
we have to pay them to Willhelm."

They exchanged some more information, then said goodbye. When the small
caravan was far off, the two boys resumed their journey. Always
remaining halfway up the hills, they walked for several days, stopping
only to eat, wash, sleep and make love.

One night, Jacques gradually got to try to penetrate his companion, but
he discovered it was more difficult than he had imagined. Kurt willingly
let him try, and it was exciting for both of them, but Jacques' rod
seemed to push uselessly on his friend's hole. And when, pushing with
more vigor, Kurt's anus seemed to start yielding, the boy felt pain and
Jacques at once stopped trying because he didn't want to hurt his
beloved.

In his turn he tried to get Kurt to penetrate him, but the result was
the same. Both were still virgins in their backsides and neither of them
knew they needed to lubricate the hole to facilitate the entrance of the
other's rod. Both liked that contact and the initial pushes, until pain
took over and then they had to stop.

"Jacques, no important if no can. Other way enjoy also much good, no?"
Kurt said with tenderness.

"Yes, but I know it is possible. I saw two men doing it and both liked
it..." Jacques insisted.

"Possible it is way we do not know. Possible one day we understand right
way, no?" Kurt insisted gently.

They had really become skilled in the sixty-nine, so they always ended
by give each other that pleasure, and reached their orgasm in that way.
But Kurt also liked the attempts to penetrate his lover, so each time
they tried again, but to no avail.

"We have to go down the valley to look for a village or a farm where we
can work and earn some food." Jacques said one day.

"Yes, we look food."

"We look for food..." Jacques almost mechanically corrected him.

They went down towards the river and after a couple kilometers they
reached the bank. They walked along it until they saw they were
approaching a small village. It was Mahon. Again playing the usual part
of the two refugee brothers, after asking here and there, Jacques found
a job with a Nouzonville woodcutter who needed a couple laborers. The
man, who had just unloaded a good deal of wood, made them go on his
wagon and took them with him to his village.

"That's odd... your brother seems more Prussian than French..."

"Oh, don't say so! Prussians have killed all our family and burned our
house..." Jacques said with a distressed expression.

"Yes, I understand, but... you are so different, you two..."

"It's common in Lorraine... And then... my mother died delivering me and my
father married again with a blonde woman and so..."

"Ah, thus you are half-brothers."

"Yes..."

"But... tell me... your brother had always been... so?"

"Yes, since childhood, poor Charles."

"But can he do his job?"

"And how! He is deaf and dumb, but he is not an idiot. He is strong and
clever. I have just to show him what he has to do, and he does it
skillfully. At home he did lot of work with me."

"There will be a lot of work. We will have to chop wood for at least ten
days."

"We three only?"

"God forbid! No also my two sons and two more laborers."

"Will you give us food, shelter and pay us?"

"Yes, sure. You will sleep behind the woodshed -- there is a lumber-room
with a small stove. And you will eat with us. And at the end I will also
give you your pay as I promised."

"We have to go to Belgium, as I told you. More than coins, we would like
to receive provision for our travel."

"It can be done. I'll talk about it with my wife."

So they stopped to work in Nouzonville for two weeks. They ate with the
woodcutter's family. His wife and daughter cooked the food for all the
seven men and served them at the table. The daughter washed and darned
the boys' clothes and gave them also thick socks and old shoes, as
winter was coming and it was getting really cold.

The girl, whose name was Giselle, was of Kurt's same age and seemed to
be attracted by the boy. But as she never was alone with him, she
limited herself to throw him, every now and then, quick, languorous
glances.

A night, shut in their small lumber-room barely warmed by the little
wood-burning stove, Jacques asked Kurt in a Whisper, "Do you like
Giselle?"

"She is pretty."

"She desires you..."

"Yes, I understand that."

"And you?"

"I am here with you, no? And it good so. I no need Giselle. " The boy
answered, lightly kissing him.

Jacques felt happy. As they could not shut the door, they limited
themselves to make love only in the dead of the night, in the dark, when
everybody was sleeping, under the blanket, and without undressing
completely.

After two weeks, the woodcutter gave them some coins and much preserved
food, a wine flask, two old, patched up but warm sweaters and two wool
caps.

The two friends said goodbye to the hospitable family and went down to
the village. Jacques had a plan. He had noticed that on the river bank
were docked several boats. If they waited until night, they could steal
one of them, a small one but in perfect condition and with the oars that
they had seen, and so go down the Meuse much more easily and rapidly.

When, in the two previous Sundays they went to the Mass with the
Woodcutter's family, after Mass Jacques and Kurt had loitered for a
while in the village. He had talked with the villagers who were curious
about the two stranger boys. So Jacques came to know that the small boat
he had in mind to steal, belonged to the chemist's son, who was at war.
The men had said him, with a superior air, that the little boat was "a
toy, no good to go fishing nor to carry goods! An expensive and useless
boat, fast, yes, but..." and Jacques decided that it was just the right
boat for them.

They hung around the village streets, waiting for the sunset. When the
sky was dark enough, they went down to the docking place. There was only
an old man who was smoking his pipe, sitting on the short wooden wharf.
The boat they intended to steal was tied right there, near the old man.

"We have to wait here, and not be seen." Jacques whispered to Kurt.

"Much time? No better we go tavern, then?"

"Yes, possibly. From the tavern we can see the wharf... a good idea."

The two boys went in, sat at a table near the window and Jacques asked
for two tankards of light wine. They sipped it in silence, waiting.

At the table near them, towards the fireplace, there were some men
playing cards and discussing different matters aloud.

At one point one of them said, "Did you hear? It seems that the
Prussians are fighting ours at Revin..."

"At Revin? But if I heard that they are amassing towards Paris..."

"The bulk of their army is, but they are trying to clear the land at
their back, the bastards! When Sedan surrendered, a part of our army
managed to sneak away and to camp at Revin. You remember them, don't
you? They passed right through here..."

"Yes, they were at most four hundred men."

"Yes. And the Prussian took the Charleville road and went towards Revin,
so now there is a battle."

"Ah, these are no more the times of Napoleon I. He knew how to do a
war!"

"Yes, but at the end he too was defeated."

Jacques was listening. He didn't know where were the places the men were
talking about. Revin, Charleville... The only thing was that the war was
still going on and that, therefore, the borders with Belgium had to be
still closed. Anyway it was better, for them, to get as near as possible
to Belgium.

Kurt, under the table, with his foot touched Jacques' to get his
attention and with the eyes signaled him to look out of the window.
Jacques looked out -- the old man was slowly leaving the wharf. Jacques
nodded. They drained the remaining wine. Jacques went to pay the
tavern-keeper then, followed by Kurt, left the premises, their bundles
at the shoulder.

They looked around. The bank was deserted. They went on the wharf and
again looked around. There was no living soul in view. After untying the
hemp rope fixing it at the wharf, they let themselves down in the little
boat. They settled their bundles, pushed with the oars against the wharf
structure easing the boat away and going towards the middle of the
stream. Nobody saw them go away.

As soon as the current caught them, they started to row. They weren't
very skilled but managed anyway to steer the small vessel that glided
away, silent and fast.

"All good, Jacques!"

"Yes, my love. When they will discover our theft, we will be far away."

"At last I can talk and not be deaf and dumb and idiot!" Kurt said,
laughing.

They rowed for several hours. In the night, following the river bights.
They passed near two small sleeping villages, without problems. The
Meuse winded all bends, between banks covered with thick of trees,
interrupted just here and there by sweep of fields. The moon was high
and full.

"Is beautiful this night on river." Kurt murmured.

"Yes, somewhat chilly but beautiful."

"Lucky that Giselle gave us sweaters."

"I would like it being me to warm you..." Jacques answered him.

Kurt giggled, "You lot better than sweater. But now we have go boat."

After some time Kurt asked Jacques to draw in to the bank and to land,
as he needed to relieve himself. They rowed until a point where the bank
was low and pushed the boat to run aground. They went out, tied the
boat's rope to a big branch so that the current didn't take it away, and
went amongst the thin bushes where both of them emptied themselves.

While they where tidying their trousers, they heard a sudden volley of
rifle fire. They called each other in a low voice. They drew near each
other, squatting between the bushes.

"There never had been a battle during the night!" Jacques murmured,
amazed.

"Much moon, see everything. Rifles shoots come from there, look..." Kurt
said drawing nearer his friend. "We back on boat and run far?"

"No, we would have to stand up and here the bushes are too thin and low.
They would see us and possibly fire on us. Let's stay here, still."

A maniple of French soldiers in open order appeared, withdrawing and
firing from time to time. Then the Prussian soldiers also appeared, more
numerous, who were calmly advancing, sure of their superiority and
apparently heedless when from time to time one of them fell remaining on
the ground. Also the French were falling, while withdrawing, and yet
they were not taking flight.

The two friends were looking at the scene, still, shaken but in silence.
Now the French had gathered in a kind of circle and were waiting for the
enemy standing still, firing on turn in a fast sequence. Prussian opened
fanwise trying to encircle the small group of their enemies. As they
were clearly superior in number, after they totally surrounded the group
of French soldiers, a Prussian officer ordered to stop firing and in an
approximate French yelled, "French soldier, surrender you?"

One of the French yelled in answer, "Never!" and the French resumed
firing.

At one point, one of the shots of the French soldiers went beyond the
Prussian soldiers and hit Jacques who fell to the ground with a choked
scream.

Kurt at once bent on him, "Jacques? Jacques?"

"The leg... oh my leg..."

"Where? Let see!"

"No, careful..."

"They no look us. Wait, let see where..."

"Here..."

Kurt looked and saw the blood stain on the cloth of his friend's
trousers, on the right thigh.

"We must go on boat, and I must tie fast your leg, you if not so lose
much <blood>... can you walk?"

"I don't know... Possibly not..."

"You keep on my body and come..."

"It's dangerous..."

"They think only kill enemy, they no know we are here. Keep on my body!
Come!"

They dragged themselves as far as the boat. Kurt helped Jacques to hoist
himself inside. He untied the boat and pushed it with all his means
towards the stream. He managed to make it slip, to get it afloat and
with a last effort he succeeded in giving it a strong push and the boat
lazily departed from the bank. But Kurt lost his balance and fell flat
into the water. He at once stood up again but the boat, now seized by
the current, was rapidly going downstream and Kurt was not able to swim.

"Jacques" Oh, Jacques..." the boy called, tears in his eyes.

The wounded boy in the boat didn't realize immediately what was
happening, but when he didn't see Kurt getting into the boat, sat up and
understood what happened. He tried to steer the boat with the oars but
he was feeling weak, each movement caused a sharp pain in the leg and he
anyway wasn't able to resist the current force.

"Kurt! Kurt!" he screamed.

His friend, standing in the water, was agitating his arms, powerless,
seeing the boat go away. Jacques let himself down onto the bottom of the
boat, distressed.

Kurt then went up the bank. The shots were continuing. Kurt went around
the meadow of clash trying to stay amongst the bushes then started to
run, parallel to the bank. He stumbled, fell, sprang up again. To see
the river he went nearer the bank even though it was less easy
underfoot. He ran all the night long. The boat was no more in sight.

Meanwhile Jacques was lying, panting, on the bottom of the small boat
that was following the current, at times turning on itself, tossed by
the waves. The boat reached Revin. On the banks the Prussian soldiers
saw it and thought it could be an attempt of their enemy to spy on them.
Several of them fired on the boat, missing it several times, until one
bullet hit Jacques on a side, piercing him, luckily without damaging any
vital organ.

Kurt meanwhile reached Revin outskirts. It was dawn. He crossed the
small town undisturbed along the road skirting the river, passing groups
of Prussian soldiers who happily didn't think the boy worthy of a
glance. He crossed the bridge and continued on the left bank of the
river, down the valley, always looking for the boat, but there was no
trace of it.

Leaving Revin, he run along the dirt road that wound parallel to the
river. At mid morning he passed through Fumay. He was overcome with
despair. He already imagined the boat drawn far away, perhaps capsized,
or even lost in the open sea, or...

He passed through Vireux in the early afternoon, always without finding
a trace of the boat. He was deadly tired, but he continued at times to
run, at times to walk along the road. Beyond Vireux, the Meuse made a
wide bend but the road was cutting straight. He was hesitant if he had
to follow the river or the road, but at last opted for the road. When he
was again near the river, he finally saw the boat, stranded.

He ran headlong, with all the strength he had, came near the little
vessel and saw Jacques on his back, a second wide blood stain on his
shirt.

"Jacques! Oh, Jacques! <Oh Good God, don't let him have died!>" he panted
while climbing into the boat.

He saw that his lover was still breathing. He had to rescue him, but
how? The river's waves were lapping the boat and making it swing, as
only the prow was stranded. There were no trees or branches nearby to
secure it at the bank. He could depart from the bank, but this time
being on board, and look for a berth with trees or sound branches. But
he didn't know if he alone would be able to steer the boat. He could try
to better strand the boat, but always alone and with Jacques weight on
it, he would possibly not manage to do that. Possibly the only solution
was to get his friend out of the boat... Could he succeed? He took the two
bundles and threw them on the bank one after the other. Then, placing
well his feet on the bottom of the boat, his legs sufficiently parted,
he passed an arm under Jacques' armpits and the other under his knees,
he slowly raised him. He was heavy. Slightly staggering, also because of
the vessel instability, he sat on the hem of the boat, bear the prow,
keeping in his arms the lifeless body of his friend. Pivoting on his ass
he managed to put his legs out of the boat and let himself slide down.

The boat rolled, almost dishing them out, and Kurt found himself
standing on the strand. He went up the bank to a dry place and gently
put Jacques down on the grass. He took one of their bundles and put it
under his head. He looked towards the boat that, become lighter, had
float off and, seized by the current, went at large and disappeared
downstream. Kurt didn't care.

He stood up and looked around. And saw that, less than one kilometer
away, there was a farm with a smoking chimney. He had to go there and
ask for help, to rescue Jacques. They would understand he was a
Prussian, an enemy, and this would possibly cost him dear, perhaps even
his life. But he didn't care, as long as rescued Jacques. With his last
strength he run towards the farm. The sun was already near setting.

He reached the farmyard and yelled, "Help! Help... help me!" in German
because he didn't know how to say it in French.

After a short while a door opened and a man with a girl came out.

Kurt then said, trying to express himself in French, "My friend, very
bad... there river... go with me? Take my friend?"

The girl asked him, in German, "<Are you a Prussian?>"

"<Yes, but my friend is a French, is one of yours. He is losing much
blood, he has been wounded. Help him, please!>"

"<We are not French... nor Prussians. We are from Luxemburg.>" The man said
dryly, going near Kurt, then asked him, "<Are you deserters?>"

"<Help my friend Jacques or he will die! He is losing much blood...>" Kurt
begged.

The girl approached them and said to the man, "<Let's go, Dad. For the
questions there will be time later. Take us where your friend is, boy.>"

Kurt thanked him with his eyes and went rapidly towards the river,
followed by the two farmers. When they arrived neat Jacques body, the
man bent down and looked the holes on the clothes, at the center of the
wide blood stains.

"<Rifle shoots?>"

"<Yes. We were amidst a clash between French and Prussian soldiers and he
was hit... can we save his life?>"

"<Let take him now in the home. We will see what it is possible to do.>"

While the man and Kurt were lifting Jacques, the girl took the two
bundles and followed them. They carried the wounded boy inside the house
and laid him down on a straw sack in one of the rooms. The man said to
her daughter to prepare some hot water and when she went out said to the
exhausted Kurt, "<Help me to undress him. Raise him a little... so, good...
gently...>"

They pulled out his shirt and trousers, the man took a cloth and covered
Jacques' genitals, making it pass between his legs and knotted it at his
sides. The girl came back with a pot of steaming water and with a wet
cloth started to gently clean away the blood from Jacque's body.

After she cleaned him, she said, "<Both the bullets came out... but he
continues losing blood...>"

"<Take a clean cloth and let's bandage him tightly.>" The father said.

The girl took from a drawer an old nightshirt and tore it in long
strips. Kurt, sitting on the floor, worn-out, feeling empty, was looking
at the two who were busying around Jacques.

"<Will he survive?>" he all at a sudden asked with a distressed voice, on
the brim of tears.

"<I don't know. Tomorrow Helga will go to Givet to call the doctor.>"

"<Can't she go now? I can go...>"

"<No, in night time it is too dangerous. Also here there is the war,
don't you know? At times the French, at times the Prussian soldiers...
Tomorrow morning it will be safer. And it will be better that Helga
goes.>"

After having padding the wounds and tightly bandaging Jacques chest and
thigh, they covered him. The man persuaded Kurt to leave his companion
and to go to eat something with them. And he wanted to know from Kurt
all their story. The boy told them the complete truth, just keeping
silent about their sexual relationship. Helga was listening with
attention. The man nodded and from time to time he asked questions.

-----------------------------

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 10

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In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to
read them, the URL is

http://andrejkoymasky.com

If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English
translations, so that I can put on-line more of my  stories in English
please e-mail at

andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

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