This is inspired by a true story.

    It was the darkest night Gilbert had experienced in his life. He was an orphan. And the orphanage he reside suddenly went to a close. The officials who run the establishment together with the orphans are eager to flee from a war that is beginning to explode. The date was June 6, 1944. The day war men peg as the D-Day. The day of the Normandy landings initiating the Western Allied effort to liberate mainland Europe from Nazi occupation during World War II.
    All the people in the orphanage managed to evacuate to the nearest  government center. But Gilbert was persistent. He doesn't want to leave the orphanage. This was his place. This is all he got. He will stay here no matter what. Gilbert looked above. He could see choppers and fighting planes domineering the night sky. He couldn't find any stars. The sound of crickets was replaced by the casual noise from the guns and bombs of the two parties involved in the war. He crotch through the corner veranda of the establishment. He keep his hands trough his ear thinking that it would lessen the gun shots and explosions that he is hearing. He cried. "Ce n'est qu'un rêve(This is just a dream.)",he whispered. Soon gun shots and explosions stopped one by one. Moments later, he fall asleep.
    Gilbert wake up seeing a translucent window with the sunshine lighting the room. He is lying in a bed. Not that soft but comfortable enough. He could smell the roasting of beef and the delicious aroma of apple pie. He felt like everything is a dream when suddenly noise from jeeps and trucks echoed the place. He felt some sort of fear. Gilbert then remembered the night at the orphanage. 
    "Comment puis-je venu ici? (How did I came here?)", told Gilbert to himself.
    At that moment, a soldier entered the room. Gilbert retreat at the far left corner of the bed, covering his face with the blanket.
    "It's OK, we won't hurt you."
    Gilbert look at the person talking. It was a man. He saw the gentleness of his face. As he say the words we won't hurt you. He is not particular with the word but he felt the genuineness of the man and the safety in his voice.
   Lieutenant Donald Johnson tried out his high school French:
   "Comment t'appeles-tu?"
   The boy's sparkly blue eyes shone. At least he could comprehend that.
   "Gilbert,"the boy pronounce his name in a usual French accent softening the letter "G".
   "I,"said Lt. Johnson placing his hands on his chest,"Lieutenant Donald Johnson..you want to eat?..ahmm..tu veux manger?
   The boy nodded with a smile on his face. Lt. Johnson lifted the boy to his arms and carry him as he might have done to his own sons and headed for the mess tent.
   Inside, Gilbert's eye grew wider as he saw young soldiers eating and talking at each other. Gilbert sat a vacant seat together with Lt. Johnson as he  piled two plates of roast beef, mashed potatoes, green peas and carrots and a slice of apple pie. Gilbert doesn't even move a single thing as he estimates the people around him.
  "Il est à vous, le manger! (it's yours, eat it!)"
  One by one, little by little, Gilbert took small bites and, chewing slowly, ate everything on his plate. Johnson patted his head: "Tres bien!"Gilbert smiled.