La Résistance

My new friend needs a name for this story, and I only found it out almost seven years later.  He traced me through many sources to get my name.  You see, he wanted to return my wrist watch, a piece of my scarf that he had found and my whistle.  I evidently gave my watch to someone when I first landed on the firm ground, and while I was so sure I was calm and aware of everything, I had missed my watch but thought it had been pulled off when I left the plane.  When he mailed all this to me, he gave me his name.  It was Jules Morel, and it was then I discovered my generous gift of which I still have no memory.

My clothes changed, Jules walked to the door and motioned for me to follow him.  He had looked around outside before he let me come out.  I followed him quietly, and we walked a little way across the fields until we came to an area where women were working.  Jules gave me a hoe and told me to work the ground until he came back.  It took a little time; his English was very bad and my French wasn’t the best.  I worked for what seemed like a short time, but without a watch I had very little idea of time spent there.  When I looked up, I could see German soldiers on a distant road, but most of the time I kept my head down and worked.  Very soon a man I hadn’t seen came up to me and told me to follow him.  I dropped my hoe and followed him.  I felt these people must have some contact that I didn’t know or understand and that they would guide me out of this situation and see me back on my side.

We didn’t walk too far before we came to another farm, I think maybe the same farm whose field I had been hoeing.  I followed him into the barn, big, empty-looking, dark and cold.  He spoke to me in French very fast and to me utterly vague.  I asked him twice in my best French to speak very slowly, I couldn’t understand him.  The fellow started then in very, very slow French but very loud.  I guess he figured if I needed it slow, loud would make it easier for me.

He left me alone in the barn and in this dark cold place I did feel abandoned.  This had been the longest day of my life.  I felt as if from breakfast to this moment could have been many days or weeks, and I was surprised it was still daytime outside the barn.  I could see that because the barn door was open.  I stood there concerned.  If I had been left there because they couldn’t do any more, should I start out on my own?

Just when I almost walked out, the man came back.  He spoke very slowly and even louder and told me to walk down a road near this barn and someone would meet me.  I started down the road; I was nervous.  I wondered if I had understood that guy completely.  I was sure I was to meet someone, but maybe not, maybe I didn’t understand.  The road I walked on was a country road not paved.  There were houses only on my right rather too close together for farms, I thought.  I wanted to know my direction but couldn’t stop or look around, I thought, because I’d attract attention.  I wonder now why I didn’t look for shadows and just figure out directions, but I didn’t.  I thought as I walked along there seemed a lot of activity around the houses with people looking at me.  At one house a man walked down to the road so I thought here is the man I’m to meet, but when I spoke to him, he turned and hurried back into the house.  I’m sure that many of these people were aware I was one of the airmen who had parachuted into their home area only this day.

Now I was sure there was no one coming to meet me.  Then in the distance there was Jules standing in the road with a bike.  I was so glad to see him and he seemed so easy to understand.  He spoke slowly and used some English.  I guess all the French I’d used that day was making it easier for me.  He told me his fiancé was up the road ahead so she could warn us if German soldiers were coming.  Now here I am vague.  I can’t remember if he had two bikes, one for him and one for me, or if we both rode on his bike, but ride we did until it got dark, which wasn’t a long time.  The day was over, a day that seemed a life time.

It was quite dark when we arrived at a small house.  Jules knocked on the door and an old lady opened it, welcomed us in a language I couldn’t understand, but Jules understood and spoke her language.  We went in and he told me I was to stay with this lady until he could arrange to come back later.  But if she had any visitors, I was to hide under her bed.  The bedroom was just off the room where we sat, and he showed me where and what to do.  Jules told me she didn’t expect anyone, but her two sons might come by, and they shouldn’t know I was there.  They did not help against the enemy and would not let their mother do so if they knew.  But the old lady was active in the underground.

Jules left quickly and left me alone with her.  We couldn’t understand each other although she talked a lot and we both smiled a lot.  She gave me some wine with bread and cheese.  I wasn’t hungry and could barely eat anything, even to please her, although I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and I hadn’t even had a chance to eat my candy bar.  It went with the plane.

The old lady heard a sound and motioned for me to go and go I did; we understood each other.  The bedroom was dark, but I didn’t need light to crawl under a bed.  As I got way back under the bed, I heard male voices and I couldn’t understand what they said.  I stayed very, very quiet for quite a while.

When I’d been under this bed for some time, I began to feel miserable.  I found it hard to breathe, and my throat was so sore I could hardly swallow.

When these men left, Jules came in the door.  Perhaps he was watching for them to leave.  I crawled out from under the bed and left the house with Jules after trying to thank the old lady.  I can only think that I was miserable and having trouble in breathing because of dust or perhaps a pet animal the lady might have had.

Again I was following Jules although I was walking along side of him for he knew the way, and as we walked, he explained he was taking me to his sister’s house.  I had no idea how much area I had covered this long day.  I knew I was tired and anxious to lie down.

His sister was kind when she welcomed us, but oh so nervous.  I could see she was frightened although she had expected us.  In spite of her fright, she was anxious to show her welcome.  I was too tired to try to talk to her, and she left it up to her brother to talk to me.  I was given bread and cheese and wine, but I couldn’t eat, I was too tired.  Jules told me I would spend the night here, and he would stay with me.  In the morning we’d be on our way.

We undressed to our underwear and got into a big old bed.  We talked for a while before we finally went to sleep.  Tired as I was, it was a while before I slept.

We were awakened about daybreak by his sister.  She burst into the room crying.  Jules said she had heard the Germans were searching the houses for airmen from the downed plane, and I’d have to go.  Jules was overcome with sadness that he had to let me go without giving me more help.  His sister was on the other hand more practical.  She was helping us putting on our pants and shoes and helping me eat a couple of raw eggs and drink some milk.  I gulped this down and turned and crawled out the bedroom window as they wanted me to do.

I hurried toward the hedge which surrounded the yard.  I turned and waved good-by.  I didn’t know how else to say thank you.  Turning back to the hedge I started to just push my way through the hedge looking back again.  Jules and his sister were gone from the window, but in a house looking out over this hedge, I saw two women wave to me and blow me a kiss.  I walked away.  I saw no one near or far away and took out my plastic box, my money, maps and compass.  I was pleased to see I was already walking south.  I was still depending on knowledge I had from my navigation of yesterday.  When we were attacked, I had our position near the border of France and Belgium.  I had found out later that Jules was a Belgium citizen and that I had been near a town called Poperinge just a short distance from the French border.  But now I didn’t know for sure in which country I walked.  Spain was still my idea of a way out.  If I could get that far, I was so sure I’d get back to England.

©Joseph H. Harrison 1999