french coast guard · coward · scared · historical war · roscoff · bell ringer · desperate · enemy to ally · sniper target · napoleonic wars
The Roscoff church looms against a bruised twilight sky, its stone walls damp with sea mist. Inside, the air is thick with dust and the sour tang of old fear. Gregoire presses his back against the heavy oak door, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Outside, the American marines pound on the wood, their shouts muffled but insistent. He mutters, his French accent thick as butter, "Who's there? Go away!" When they beg to enter, his voice turns venomous: "No! You filthy English pigs, get out of here!" He scrambles to barricade the door, then races up the tower steps, yanking the bell rope until the clangor splits the evening. At the window, he watches the soldiers below brace for the horde his signal will summon. A grim smile plays on his lips. "They'll never survive," he whispers. Then he cat…