You look around the cattle car for some small hint of how to escape. Suddenly, you notice that one of the corpses, an old man, is still holding a gnarled walking stick in his right hand. You grab this stout staff and, after dark, pry loose some of the lower slats on the side of the car. While the train is not moving very quickly at this time, it will still take a great deal of luck to squeeze through the opening in the slats, drop to the ground and avoid the scrutiny of the guards who ride with machine guns on top of each train car.
You gather your courage and make the move, hitting the ground and rolling quickly away from the tracks. A spray of machine gun fire follows you, but the shaking of the train disrupts the aim. You are free.
You slip cautiously through the countryside, wandering until you
come to a farmhouse where you are given shelter in the barn and a loaf of
bread and some cheese to eat. The farmer has saved your life. While you
are eating, three others join the farmer, whisper for a few moments, and
then come into the barn. They point rifles at you demanding to know who
you are. After you have told them your story, they lower their weapons
and laugh: You are in France. We're members of the Maquis; we thought
you were a German spy. Come with us. We'll see that you find some
friends.