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115 The Soldier Watches Retribution I watch them waiting in line, their heads bowed as if in prayer. In some places, the cost of collaboration is death; in France, a swastika painted on the shaved scalp. Here, in a Groningen city square, the moffenmeiden* shield their faces, await the razor that clips close their locks, the price for a German soldier boyfriend. Some stand with already protruding bellies, others wear broken hearts on their sleeves. I understand the ways of love and romance all too well, but as a Jew—never persecuted but feeling it personally as I help liberate occupied lands—I wonder hard at their choices ...

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