The German Boarder

      There was a police car parked in front of Mary Kehoe’s house. At first, it didn’t seem that unusual. The police visited her house pretty often over the years.  This went back to when she and John Kehoe were still married. John was a violent, alcoholic who often abused Mary and their boys – Mark and Brian.

       But John and Mary had been divorced of for over two years, so the sight of another patrol car parked in front of her house really caught my attention. Did John come back? What are those boys of hers up to? Her oldest son, Mark, had been busted three months earlier for shoplifting at a local dime store. Then something else occurred to me – Maybe something’s up with that boarder that’s been living there.

      Several months earlier, Mary took in a boarder to help her make ends meet. At first some of the neighbors thought she was shacking up with a man half her age. However, taking in boarder made perfect sense, since John Kehoe was a deadbeat; and we were still living through the Great Depression and any extra money was a necessity. The man’s name was Erich Schmidt. Right away his blonde hair and cold, blue eyes caught my attention. I had this thing about Germans ever since my days fighting in the trenches along the western front. The experience didn’t make me hate all Germans – I was half German myself – but I could never trust them.

    That Wednesday my wife and daughter were going to New Orleans to visit our son. Morris was attending college at Tulane University on a football scholarship. Earlene and Dottie went to help settle him in. That morning, as we loaded up the trunk of the car, we noticed a patrol car sitting in front of the Kehoe house.

    “I wonder what’s going on now,” Earlene said.  

    “Who knows…it’s probably got somethin’ to do with them juvenile delinquents of hers,” I said.

     Earlene smirked. “Roy…be nice. Try not to jump to conclusions.”

     “Okay hon, I’ll try.” I kissed her on the cheek. “Y’all be careful. And give ma’boy a hug for me.”

     “I will.” Earlene said. “I’ll call you tonight.”  I smiled and nodded and then they pulled off. I glanced over at the patrol car and Mary Kehoe’s house then I looked at my watch. Oh well I’m just a waistin’ time. Let’s go make some money. The crabs were running good out of Napoleon Bay. So I gathered my nets and loaded up the truck. I knew with the pleasant weather I had a good day of crabbing ahead of me.

     The patrol car was still parked in front of Mary Kehoe’s house when I drove up that evening. It was dark outside, but I could still see the car clearly. I even noticed the orange ember of the policeman’s cigarette as he sat watching the house. The phone was ringing when I opened the front door. It’s probably Earlene. I thought to myself.

        At first, Earlene told me all about Morris’ fancy dorm room. But it didn’t take her long to ask, “Is that police car still there?”

       “Yep…sure is. It’s funny, but I haven’t seen anyone come out of Mary’s house in three days. I wonder what’s goin’ on over there.”

       We talked for a few more minutes then I said, “Good night. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

       I grabbed a beer out of the ice box and then I opened a can of pork and beans for dinner. While eating, I heard the sound of someone talking into a megaphone. I jumped out of my chair and ran to look out of the front window.

    “Come out through the front door with your hands up,” the policeman said. By now, there were two more police cars parked out front. I went out the front door and looked on from the front porch.  They had a spotlight shining on the house. The policeman continued,” We will give you one more opportunity to come out by yourself and then we will…” I noticed an object fly out the front window. It landed by the patrol car parked in front of the Kehoe house. By the time I realized what it was there was an enormous explosion. The force of it knocked me backwards several feet; the back of my head it hard against the house.  It took me several minutes for me to gather myself.  I could here screams coming from down the street. There was smoke everywhere. A strong carbon odor permeated the neighborhood. I noticed that a portion of my oak tree was on fire. I crawled back inside the house. What the hell is that? Is that machine gun fire? I looked out the window and saw Erich Schmidt standing in the street. He had a machine gun slung over his shoulder, and he was holding a German luger. There was a large muscular man standing next to him - another German. I ran to my bedroom and grabbed my double-barrel shotgun I had stashed away under my bed. I had a hard time loading the shells because my hands were shaking so much. I’m sure the cops had to call in for back up. That’s if any of them were still alive. I had an uneasy feeling that they weren’t. I ran into the back yard. I knew that Schmidt and his German friend would rummage through the houses to look for hostages. I knew there was something peculiar about Erich Schmidt. The bastard is probably a German spy. It was 1938. There had been several reports of German U-boats coming in from the Gulf of Mexico. I thought it was just a hoax – how naïve. I wondered how many of my neighbors were still alive. The Kehoe’s. Schmidt must have killed them first. As I sat in the backyard contemplating my next move, I could hear the Germans bash down my front door. The next thing I heard was the sound of gun shots. They fired for several seconds and then I heard Schmidt shout something in German. The only thing I could make out was Toups. I hid in my yard. They went through my house screaming ‘Toups’! I’m so glad Earlene and Dottie are in New Orleans. Like an infantryman, I low crawled over to the Cypress tree that stood in the middle of my yard. I got into a prone shooting position and waited for my German guests. The back door opened slowly, and Erich Schmidt carefully stepped out into the yard. He smiled before shouting something in German. I barely breathed as I hid behind the tree. I could hear police sirens in the distance. Schmidt walked closer, holding the luger in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He shined the light it by the tree. His eyes widened and he smiled. Schmidt aimed the luger in my direction. He muttered something in German and slowly aimed the luger in my direction. I grit my teeth and fired. The shot struck Schmidt in the chest. The impact blew him ten feet across the yard. It was obvious he was dead as his body hit the ground. I felt relieved, but I knew that other German was right behind him. I reached in my pocket and grabbed two more shells. I loaded them and rolled over to the back of my garage. I quickly climbed over the fence. Unfortunately, my pants got caught on a nail and I landed awkwardly on the pavement. Right away, I could tell my left leg was broken; the pain was excruciating. Despite the pain I hobbled as quickly as I could. I could hear gun shots in the distance. I’ll never forget the malice in his eyes. With each step, it felt like knives were being poked into my right leg. At some point, I fell and blacked out.

        It all feels like some crazy dream. It just doesn’t seem real. Me…havin’ a shoot out with German spies in my backyard in St. Pierre, Louisiana.

   As the cobwebs cleared, I noticed I was lying in a hospital bed. My leg was in a cast and it was being held in traction. I felt a gentle pat on my right arm. It was Earlene. I looked up at her. She smiled as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “Thank God. You’re okay Roy.”

    On the other side of the room stood my son and daughter. They embraced. Dottie was crying. Morris patted her on the back. “I told ya he’d come through. He’s one tough ol’ Cajun.”

    “What about the neighbors?” I whispered.

     More tears welled up in Earlene’s eyes. “Let’s not talk about that right now. Just focus on gettin’ well.”

    Just then the nurse came into the room and took my vitals. “It’s wonderful that you were able to come through. Your family was sure worried,” the nurse said. “The doctor will be in shortly.”  She smiled before closing the door behind her.

    I dosed off for a few moments. Earlene nudged me. “Wake up honey. The doctor is in.”

   As I tried to focus, I noticed a large, German-looking man, wearing and white doctor’s coat. His face looked all too familiar. My body stiffened.

  The doctor grinned as he reached into his coat. “Hello Mr. Toups. I’m Dr. von Ottmann…I’ve got something for you.”

   I looked at Earlene and screamed.