“Stop!” Helene screamed, so loud it ripped through the air like an explosion. “He’s not dying. He’s barely hurt. Please.”

Vogel ignored her, his gun still outstretched. He set his finger on the trigger.

Thomas lifted himself to a seated position and raised his hands in the air. “Please,” he said in English. “Don’t.”

Vogel’s finger twitched. Helene felt the world around her slow and draw inward, pulled toward the long black barrel of the pistol.

But before Helene could plead again, her vision was obscured by the full white skirt of a sister’s habit, covered in dirt and blood.

Cecelia stood in front of Vogel, her chest inches from his gun, her arms at her sides and body as rigid as a wall.

Vogel registered her presence, but he didn’t lower his gun. “Get out of the way,” he said to Cecelia, his chapped lips barely parting.

Cecelia’s head was held high, even as Vogel’s gun waved in front of her. “No.”

Vogel sneered. “That wasn’t a request.” He took a step to his right, but Cecelia again placed her body between his gun and Thomas.

“There’s only been a misunderstanding,” Cecelia said calmly. “This soldier has minor injuries and is ready for transport. Your services are not needed.”

Helene braced herself for a torrent of anger, but to her surprise Vogel’s mouth twisted into a grin. It made him appear even more ratlike. “You think you get to tell me that?”

He raised his gun until it was in her face. The white fabric of her veil rippled slightly in the breeze, but her body was still.

“Listen to me now, Sister.” He leaned forward, his gun shaking. “I am doing more for these men than anyone else on this beach. More than they deserve. You say you’re a woman of faith. Well, what does your God think of leaving someone to suffer and die like a wounded animal?” He put his free hand on his chest. “So, I will ask you, once, and only once more, to move and let it be done.”

She shook her head again. “No, I will not.”

“Then you’ve made your choice.”

Helene sprang to her feet, even as she felt Thomas reach out to try to stop her, and stepped directly beside Cecelia, her legs shaking violently underneath her skirt.

“You’re hurt.”

There was a long, unbearable silence.

“You’re injured—your arm,” Helene continued. She pointed to Vogel’s left arm, where she had noticed a small, black holein the fabric near his elbow, raw skin visible underneath. “It doesn’t look bad, but it could get infected.” She knew only that she had to keep talking. “It needs to be washed out, the sooner the better.”

Without moving his gun, Vogel inspected the hole in his sleeve, perplexed.

“You were here then?” Helene asked. “You were here for the battle?”

There was a faint flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Only the end of it.”

“You served bravely then,” Helene said. She couldn’t look at Thomas or Cecelia. “You saved all of us. It’s not even your home and yet you fought for it. That takes tremendous courage. Thank you, Lieutenant.” She tried to make her features neutral, smooth out any of the fear left in her voice. “Now let us tend to him. Get him ready for transport. His delay getting to the medical tent was our fault, our mistake, an error in the triage, and you were so kind to offer your help. But you need medical attention yourself now.”

Vogel glanced at Cecelia and then back at Helene. For a horrible moment, his face hardened.

But then he nodded and lowered his gun. “Fine then.” He eyed Cecelia for a long moment, hatred radiating from every inch of him, before turning and walking briskly away.

Once Vogel was gone, Helene crouched beside Thomas. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. Was never worried. Just another German trying to kill me today.” He studied his hands, covered in dirt and dried blood. “Still, thank you,” he said softly. “For that.” He squinted into the sun at Cecelia. “And you, Sister.”

Cecelia inhaled through her nose, as though it were her first real breath in hours. “I was only doing God’s will.”

“God’s will was for you to put yourself between me and a Luger?”

Helene tried to stifle a smile as Cecelia narrowed her eyes.