"He is Balk. Last week, his factory began collaborating with the Germans, starting to produce military boots for them."
"I can't believe it. He is that kind of person? Has he forgotten how many French lives were cruelly lost at the hands of the Germans? To think he would collaborate with them—he is nothing short of a traitor!"
As Balk walked home, many pointed at him. Despite the war being over, the French still harbored an intense, deep-seated hatred for the Germans. Even though most were going hungry and often starved, this did not diminish their patriotic fervor.
Balk kept his head down and strode swiftly toward his house. His expression was grim. As a Frenchman, he had never wanted to cooperate with the Germans. However, he had no choice. He could not bear to watch his son suffer under their torment. Thus, he was forced to betray his own conscience and work with the enemy.
He chose to ignore the criticism from others. He knew that any rebuttal would only lead to confrontation, or worse, physical assault. Still, the soldiers and police patrolling the area would side with him, for by working with the Germans, he had become a "good citizen" in their eyes, distinct from other French people and thus subject to different treatment.
Yet Balk had no desire to seek trouble. Although he had entered into this forced collaboration with the Germans, he did not wish to exploit it to bully his fellow countrymen, even though they now cast harsh words his way.
Several minutes later, Balk reached his home. Upon opening the door, he saw his wife busy preparing dinner. Only then did he raise his head. Entering the house, he felt truly alive again, no longer a mere shell of a man.
"My dear, you're back! Sit down and rest, dinner will be ready soon. Today, the Germans sent us a sack of flour, some butter, and even a steak! Our dear Sally hasn't had meat in ages!" His wife's words were filled with a trace of joy.
Frenchmen who cooperated with the Germans were granted special privileges. While others went without food, these people could feast on buttered bread, and even steak—such luxuries were beyond imagination in these times.
"Perhaps this is the benefit of cooperating with the Germans," Balk thought to himself.
Though working with the Germans had earned him the scorn of his countrymen, the benefits to his family were undeniable. He still wondered, however, if his son, held in a German POW camp, had been rescued yet.
A loaf of bread, a cup of butter, a small steak for each person, and a rich soup—this was a luxurious dinner by their current standards.
Little Sally could hardly take her eyes off the steak, licking her lips. She had no idea how long it had been since she last had meat.
"Dear, eat up! From now on, we'll have meat more often!" Balk said, his face full of sorrow.
"Mm!" Little Sally nodded and began devouring the steak.
"Darling, do you think God will forgive us?" his wife asked.
She knew the immense pressure her husband faced for working with the Germans.
"It's fine, dear. God will understand us!" Balk forced a smile.
His wife nodded. Deep down, she knew that the neighbors had already begun to gossip about their collaboration with the Germans. Yet, for the sake of their son, there was no other choice.
"I wonder how Bedoco is doing now. Has the German army made things harder for him? If only he could come home soon!" His wife said, tears welling in her eyes.
"Don't worry, dear. We've already begun collaborating with the Germans. Bedoco will be fine. He'll be back with us soon!" Balk said, his resolve to continue cooperating with the Germans strengthened for the sake of his son's safe return.
"The French Republic is no more. We are no longer French. From now on, we must begin a new life," Balk told himself inwardly.
Far away in Ukraine, in a prisoner-of-war camp, a group of ragged, emaciated French prisoners, looking as thin as monkeys, gnawed on black bread the size of fists. This was their only meal.
This camp housed over ten thousand French prisoners. Their task was to build a highway to Kyiv.
After the Kingdom of Ukraine gained independence, with QinTian taking on the role of king, Germany had been working hard to turn Ukraine into a bridgehead for an eventual assault on Russia. This meant that the country's outdated infrastructure had to be improved, or else the German military and supplies would not be able to arrive quickly.
Thousands of prisoners, many from France and Britain, were sent to this camp to build roads and railways. Life was grueling, and many died of exhaustion on the construction site each day.
A young prisoner, his cheeks hollowed and his body as gaunt as a skeleton, hunched in a corner, gnawing on his bread. To these men, this hard, barely edible black bread was the closest thing to a luxury meal.
"Bedoco, the supervisor wants to see you!" A German soldier called out flatly.
"Ah!" The young French prisoner was immediately startled, his bread falling to the ground.
Other prisoners looked at him with sympathy.
The camp's supervisor, Colonel Essen, was feared by the French prisoners. He was notorious for his cruelty, and many had died at his hands.
Bedoco, thinking he was about to be executed, nearly soiled himself from fear.
When he finally arrived at Colonel Essen's office, he was surprised to see the man smiling warmly.
"Bedoco, from now on, you won't be working anymore. You've been promoted to overseer. Your father has begun collaborating with the Empire and has taken on German citizenship. You are now one of us," Colonel Essen said kindly.
"Get him a new uniform," he instructed.
Bedoco was stunned. He hadn't expected this, but he knew that he had just found good fortune. At least now he wouldn't have to do the hard labor anymore and wouldn't need to worry about dying from exhaustion.
After changing into the new uniform, Colonel Essen began to teach him how to be a good overseer, how to deal with lazy workers. Bedoco seemed to forget his former identity altogether.