They Shall Not Have Me

Words at war presents, they shall not have me by Jean-Elon. Your feet, please! Your feet! What about my feet? They are grinding into my shin bones. Will you take them off? Please! Or must I break them off at the ankles?

My feet are here, those are not mine. Then, who's are they? I should know. Find out for yourself. I am comfortable enough. Whose feet are these? Whose feet are grinding? I'll have them! Whichever soldiers feet please take them off my shins.

Please, it's not my fault that I'm in this box car. Are we not all French men together? Please take your boots off my shins. Don't you hear him? Whoever it is, take your heavy feet off him.

It is enough that German heel is on him. There. Are you all right now? Yes. Thank you, comrade. Thank you. Where are they taking us? I do not know. Go to sleep. Ja. Are you asleep? Jai Lung? Are you asleep?

No, Georg. Did you hear that? Are we not all Frenchmen? It sounds like the old days. Bastille day. Even here packed like cattle in a filthy freight car headed for slavery. German slavery. Do you have to say so?

It can't be worse than what we went through. The war. The defeat, yes it can. They promised us freedom. If we lay down our arms, surrender, we should never have believed the Germans. No. They lie to us.

Like our own politicians. They tricked us. Like some of our officers. Frenchman. Cresemas. Frenchman. Cresemas. Betrayed. Lost. Me. Nothing but an insurance agent. What have I done? Nothing. An afraid car. Like an animal. What am I going to do?