Read Online The Forgotten 500 by Gregory A. Freeman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gregory A. Freeman
Ads: Link
candy he had stashed in a pocket of his uniform. He reached in and brought out several pieces, then offered one to each of his new acquaintances. This broke the ice more, and the women said things that Musgrove assumed were thank-yous. The young boys smiled at him and seemed to be hoping for more to come from his pockets.
After that, Musgrove was out of ideas. The women seemed fine with him being there, but they didn’t offer anything or even try to talk to him, realizing the effort would be futile. They talked among themselves and continued tending the sheep, while Musgrove just sat nearby and watched. Apparently they were uninterested in changing their routine just because a sweaty airman dropped out of the sky and gave them candy, so all Musgrove could do was sit and wait while the afternoon passed and the sheep grazed. He knew they would go back to their village before dark, but he had no idea if they would take him along. He desperately wanted them to. The idea of staying out in this countryside on his own scared him to death. If he could have communicated with them, he would have been pleading with them to take him along. But he could only sit and wait to see what would happen.
The hours passed slowly and Musgrove watched the sun begin to dip lower. He followed the women’s movements intently, waiting for any sign that they were about to leave. Then they nonchalantly picked up their few belongings and started herding the sheep down a path. They had gone a few yards, with Musgrove watching and his heart racing, before one of them turned around and motioned for him to follow. She did it as if she was surprised he wasn’t already on their heels.
Musgrove was grateful. He sprinted to catch up with them and then walked in silence for more than an hour. As they approached a little village, no more than a dozen stone and thatch cottages, a burly man with a beard came out to greet them. Musgrove thought he must be the husband of one of the women from the way they spoke with each other, and he was pleased to see the big man walk right up and stick out his hand. Musgrove grabbed the man’s hand and shook it hard and tight, assured now that he was in friendly hands. He didn’t know yet that the man was a Chetnik, a follower of Yugoslavian General Draza Mihailovich, who was fiercely loyal to the Americans, but the warm handshake was a welcome sign for Musgrove. These people are going to help me, whoever they are.
The man spoke more to the women and the group went inside the modest home. Musgrove sat on a small wooden chair outside the front door, feeling uneasy about walking into the house without an explicit invitation. He watched as a few people came and went in the village, each one looking at Musgrove with a strong curiosity, especially the children. But everyone kept their distance. Musgrove sat for a long while, wondering if these people were going to help him find a way out of Yugoslavia or if they saw him more like a stray dog. His thoughts were interrupted when one of the women stepped outside and motioned for him to come in, then directed him to the wooden table near the fireplace. Musgrove could see that dinner was set on the table and he realized he was being invited to a dinner of mutton, potatoes, and bread. He was too upset and anxious to have much of an appetite, but he nodded a thank-you to the woman and sat down next to the man of the house, who nodded toward Musgrove and began eating. The rest of the family, two sons and a daughter, sat at the table but seemed more interested in staring at Musgrove than eating. The American was poking at a bit of tough mutton and eating a bit of potato when suddenly there was a hard rapping on the wooden door. Everyone looked at one another expectantly, and then the Serb man stood up and went to the door, opening it to find another bearded villager there. The two exchanged words that Musgrove could not understand, but he could tell that they were arguing about something
After that, Musgrove was out of ideas. The women seemed fine with him being there, but they didn’t offer anything or even try to talk to him, realizing the effort would be futile. They talked among themselves and continued tending the sheep, while Musgrove just sat nearby and watched. Apparently they were uninterested in changing their routine just because a sweaty airman dropped out of the sky and gave them candy, so all Musgrove could do was sit and wait while the afternoon passed and the sheep grazed. He knew they would go back to their village before dark, but he had no idea if they would take him along. He desperately wanted them to. The idea of staying out in this countryside on his own scared him to death. If he could have communicated with them, he would have been pleading with them to take him along. But he could only sit and wait to see what would happen.
The hours passed slowly and Musgrove watched the sun begin to dip lower. He followed the women’s movements intently, waiting for any sign that they were about to leave. Then they nonchalantly picked up their few belongings and started herding the sheep down a path. They had gone a few yards, with Musgrove watching and his heart racing, before one of them turned around and motioned for him to follow. She did it as if she was surprised he wasn’t already on their heels.
Musgrove was grateful. He sprinted to catch up with them and then walked in silence for more than an hour. As they approached a little village, no more than a dozen stone and thatch cottages, a burly man with a beard came out to greet them. Musgrove thought he must be the husband of one of the women from the way they spoke with each other, and he was pleased to see the big man walk right up and stick out his hand. Musgrove grabbed the man’s hand and shook it hard and tight, assured now that he was in friendly hands. He didn’t know yet that the man was a Chetnik, a follower of Yugoslavian General Draza Mihailovich, who was fiercely loyal to the Americans, but the warm handshake was a welcome sign for Musgrove. These people are going to help me, whoever they are.
The man spoke more to the women and the group went inside the modest home. Musgrove sat on a small wooden chair outside the front door, feeling uneasy about walking into the house without an explicit invitation. He watched as a few people came and went in the village, each one looking at Musgrove with a strong curiosity, especially the children. But everyone kept their distance. Musgrove sat for a long while, wondering if these people were going to help him find a way out of Yugoslavia or if they saw him more like a stray dog. His thoughts were interrupted when one of the women stepped outside and motioned for him to come in, then directed him to the wooden table near the fireplace. Musgrove could see that dinner was set on the table and he realized he was being invited to a dinner of mutton, potatoes, and bread. He was too upset and anxious to have much of an appetite, but he nodded a thank-you to the woman and sat down next to the man of the house, who nodded toward Musgrove and began eating. The rest of the family, two sons and a daughter, sat at the table but seemed more interested in staring at Musgrove than eating. The American was poking at a bit of tough mutton and eating a bit of potato when suddenly there was a hard rapping on the wooden door. Everyone looked at one another expectantly, and then the Serb man stood up and went to the door, opening it to find another bearded villager there. The two exchanged words that Musgrove could not understand, but he could tell that they were arguing about something
Similar Books
![Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.com/559646/thumbs/152x264/praetorian-series-3-a-hunter-and-his-legion.jpg)
