Page 41 of All We Thought We Knew

Mrs. Delaney’s worried voice brought Gunther back to the situation. The two men continued to hover over their friend, but no one was doing anything to help him. If he truly wasn’t breathing, Gunther knew these minutes were vital.

“He needs chest compressions and air to his lungs.” Mrs. Delaney’s wide eyes met his. “He won’t make it if the doctor doesn’t arrive soon.”

Her frightened gaze darted between the man on the floor and back to Gunther. “Can you help him?”

A memory flashed through Gunther’s mind.

He’d watched Dr. Sonnenberg perform a lifesaving techniqueat the hospital with positive results, but he’d never attempted it himself. “Perhaps.”

Before he knew what was happening, Mrs. Delaney took him by the arm and tugged him with her. The two worried soldiers looked up.

“This man can help your friend until the doctor arrives,” she said. “Move aside.”

The men looked skeptical as they eyed Gunther’s green prisoner uniform, but they finally stepped away to make room for him.

Gunther knelt next to the man. He felt for a pulse and listened for breathing, finding neither. Planting his palm in the middle of the man’s chest, he began to administer quick pushes, ten or so, before he blew into the man’s mouth. He repeated the procedure two more times, then listened for a heartbeat.

Gunther had just begun another round of chest compressions when two things happened. The unconscious man gasped for air, and a horde of medical personnel and the guard rushed into the building.

“What are you doing?” The doctor who’d yelled at Gunther earlier now gave him a hard shove, causing him to lose balance and land on his backside. “Get away from this man.”

The guard grabbed Gunther by the arm and yanked him up. “I told you to stay put,” he growled. “I oughta lock you up—”

“Stop this.” Mrs. Delaney’s shout gained everyone’s attention. “Mr. Schneider has studied medicine. He was trying to save this man’s life.”

Right on cue, the patient groaned and opened his eyes. The doctor’s attention shifted to him.

“It’s true,” said one of the men who’d been dining with the soldier when he collapsed. He met Gunther’s gaze. “You saved Joe. He wasn’t breathing until you started working on him.”

In the next minutes, the patient was loaded onto a stretcher and carried away. His buddies went back to their meal, but notbefore each of them thanked Gunther for what he’d done for their friend.

“Let’s go,” the guard said. He didn’t smile, but he also didn’t seem as unfriendly as he’d been before.

Gunther turned to Mrs. Delaney and found her watching him, her eyes shining.

“That was amazing, Mr. Schneider. You truly did save that man’s life.”

Her praise embarrassed him. “Anyone could have done it, given the correct training.”

She offered her hand. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Schneider.”

Gunther stared at her. It took a moment to recover, and when he did, he gently grasped her soft hand. “The pleasure was mine, Mrs. Delaney.”

She gave a shy smile.

Gunther followed the guard out the door. Sunshine poured over him as they crossed the grounds and headed for the hospital, but it was Mrs. Delaney’s smile that filled him with genuine happiness for the first time in weeks.

THIRTEEN:MATTIE

DELANEY HORSE FARM

NOVEMBER 1969

Tomorrow was Thanksgiving Day.

I sat at the kitchen table with a small box that held Mama’s recipes, each written on an index card in her neat handwriting, looking for inspiration. The special meal had always been Mama’s favorite. She’d cook a feast and invite friends to join us. I felt obligated to continue the tradition. Not because we had anything to celebrate, but because she couldn’t come downstairs and prepare the meal herself.

Memories from last year’s dinner drifted over me.