The Surprise

Blog post by Jeph

Sandrine said 10:00 so promptly at 10:00 on Saturday Edie and I were out in the gravel courtyard ready to go.  Sandrine came out to join us while her husband went to get his big black two door Mercedes.  We got in and drove about 5 minutes and pulled into a lot.  To our left at the corner of the lot we could see lots of people gathered with lots of flags.  We realized that this was going to be some kind of ceremony.  We walked to the corner and saw that people were gathered in parallel lines facing each other.  One line was mostly men about my age in uniforms and white gloves holding large French flags.  These men were members of La Souvenir Francaise, which I think is an organization a bit like our American Legion.  One person in that line looked like an active duty military guy.  The other line was made up of civilians, some wearing red white and blue sashes.  At one end of the lines they faced the war memorial which looked to me like it had been placed there to commemorate the dead from WWI and then modified to honor those in the Resistance in WWII.  In front of the memorial in between the two lines was a low square of marble with a hockey puck sized hole in the center and inscriptions around the sides.  This was for a commemorative flame.

The ceremony began and it was hard for me to follow what I was supposed to do since I wasn't understanding the French.  Edie did a lot better.  There were speeches, the playing of the French and US anthems over loudspeakers, and greeting of the dignitaries present including a representative of the mayor who could not be there due to illness.  One very dignified gentleman lit the flame with a bit of cotton attached to the tip of a very serious looking saber.  

Next the assembly moved en masse in cars to the memorial to Maurice Bouchery  (https://goo.gl/maps/F2mAYG3WfG722Rty7)  There we placed a wreath and some more remarks were made.  After that it was back in the cars to the  house at the corner of rue de Tanneurs and Maurice Bouchery street (https://goo.gl/maps/PrgDS76wAkWUVGPt6).  Not everyone came to this address but enough people to stop traffic at that little corner for a while.  Then we went to the cemetery and laid flowers at the grave of M. Bouchery.  Finally, there was a very gracious reception at the Hotel de Ville where refreshments were served and Edie and I were presented with a medal in honor of our father by La Souvenir Francaise.   One of their members also gave me a hat and a pin for my blazer.  M. Bruno Lesage-Degryck made a very nice speech in English about the heroism of M. Bouchery.  He said that he is remembered every year at Bastille Day, which is the day in 1944 when he was shot by the Germans.  I also spoke briefly with the help of Timothee Wattelier who was designated to translate.  I thanked everyone for their kindness.  I also asked them to remember also the bravery of Madame Titren who cared for the aviators during their time there at great risk to herself and her daughter.  That wrapped up the surprise. Sandrine and her husband drove us back to their place.  It was a very overwhelming experience and certainly a big surprise. 

Edie and I caught our breath and then drove the 50 minutes to Poperinge in Belgium.  We parked near the Church and walked into the square heading for the tourist office where we were to meet Christine (daughter of Jules Morel who had helped our father when he bailed out of his plane) and her son Michael and his wife Lena.  As we were walking past they spotted us and called to us.  Edie wondered later how they had known that we were the ones they were waiting for.  I pointed out that I was wearing the universal sign of an American which is a blue blazer and khaki pants.  We introduced ourselves and were just beginning to visit when Patrick Morel walked up coming from the train station.

We sat down at an outdoor cafe on a lovely breezy day and had a very nice visit.  After a while we took a walk past the site of their parents' clothing shop, now demolished and replaced by apartments.  Then we visited Talbot House which is now a museum pretty much right across the street. https://goo.gl/maps/uwc3egXQ5HvmpXpq8 During WWI it was a place where English soldiers could get away from the front line (which was not far away) and have a little taste of home.  Very sad because many of the men who took solace there were ultimately killed on the front.  It was a very interesting museum.  At the end of our visit a caretaker served us tea in the garden which was very nice.  He told us that he had spent 18 years in the US coaching soccer, part of that time at ISU in Normal and part in St. Louis.  He made a point of saying he was a Cardinals fan.  Nice man anyway.  I gave him a copy of Dad's book.

After the museum we walked back to the square and visited a bit more until all had to get going back to their homes.  It was so wonderful to spend time with the Morels.  We will make sure that we stay in touch.   

La Bassee

Yesterday, Friday, we got an early start leaving Paris. At 8:15 we pulled the car out of its parking spot onto the single lane street behind a truck which was unloading groceries for the market across the street. The driver assured us that he would be finished in just 45 minutes so Edie backed the car to the next intersection and we spun around and went the other way. Edie negotiated rush hour traffic across the Seinne and out of town. 

Two hours later we were in Reims (pronounced "rance" with a throaty r). We spent several hours in the Cathedral where French kings were crowned. A beautiful and holy place. We had lunch looking up at the west facade. 

Then we drove to our Airbnb lodgings in Violaines near La Bassee. Sandrine, our hostess, greeted us warmly with a kiss on both cheeks. They gave us a surprise basket containing a loaf of bread, two kinds of cheese, both soft and one stinky, and a very delicious hard sausage. 

We then drove to the house where Dad was hidden and looked at the memorial plaque. The house is very tiny, made of brick and connected to the one next to it on the one side. The house was all closed up with tambour barriers pulled down over all windows and the door. We imposed on a nice French family who happened by to tell us about the house. They said the woman who owned it had died one month ago. They were very interested in hearing about Dad. They gave us the name of the woman's son and told us we could get his address in the town hall. Too late yesterday to do that. We found a nice little restaurant in this small town and had a delicious dinner. 

Today Sandrine says we are to be ready at 10:00 AM for some kind of surprise that is going to occupy us until 1:00 PM. More on that later. This afternoon after the surprise we are driving to Poperinge to spend some time with Christine and Patrick Morel. 

Reims

Jeph and I left Paris today and made our way to Reims.  Driving in Paris is like driving in a big city only the lanes are may 2/3 the width of lanes in the US and the motorcycles are nuts.  They dodge in and out and around.   One will come up on your left between two cars in their lanes then dart across in front of your car just inches from being a hood ornament on the rental car.  Jeph says that natural selection has allowed only the riders that are experts are left.

The cathedral at Reims is fantastic.  It is built where a palace was located in the 5th century.  It looked to me like lace or a snowflake.   The buttresses are more subtle than those at Notre Dame, but they way are placed added to this feeling of lace.   On the lower levels, there was a musty / pleasant smell that was similar to that at the Cluny museum in Paris.

In WWI, the Germans wanted to demoralize the French and what better way than to take away the cathedral.  They bombed it multiple times in 1914.   Large parts of the roof and ceiling were destroyed and beautiful windows were lost.  It’s hard to picture this place with airplanes buzzing overhead focused on destroying this beautiful cathedral and its history, but that’s what I’m here for.. to pay homage to those who lived through it.

You can see where the ceiling had to be repaired by the color of the stones.   Window were restored and some were replaced by those designed by Chagall and Knoebel.  They are not what you expect to see in a cathedral where construction started in the 13th century.

Montmarte

This morning, we had the pleasure of meeting the genealogist who did some research on the people that helped our father.   She is lovely and shared stories of other assignments and the process of getting documents in a country with privacy laws more robust than the U.S.

We took the metro to Château Rouge to find the corner for the obligatory photo.   The cafe is now a gift shop, but the Le Consulat persists and guided us to that location.

We also received a note from our air bnb host Sandrine.   This is near the house at which my father was hidden and subsequently captured.   It sounds like we will meet people who remember the people who hid my father and other allied airmen.  
——————-

Date: Thursday, Jul 18, 2019, 9:31 AM

To: Harrison Jr., Joseph H. <jharrison@sidley.com>

Subject: You're coming

Hello Joseph and Edie

You're coming😁👍​

It is tomorrow that I will have the great pleasure to see you at last!​

I look forward to introducing you on Saturday to the fraternal side of our region. That's what I found in your dad's book. And, I'm sure he'll be there as well this Saturday. I intend to block you from 10:15 a.m. to 1PM.​

Maybe you've already arrived in France or Belgium? I hope all goes well.​

Do you know your arrival time for tomorrow?​

 I give you the address: ​

28 rue Louis Bauchet 62138 Violaines:entrance next to the barrier and  on your right. you can park inside the garden yard.

There is just a small change due to small technical problem on the other house. So you will be installed in a new house with the garden in addition. It has no stairs and this is my favorite.  You will be very well settled and I absolutely want to!​

I have other surprises in store for you when you arrive because in France we are always surprised!​

See you tomorrow and have a good day​

well cordially​

Sandrine​

​

Ps: I just speak a little English, so you'll excuse me I also rely on google translation

B17

Each time over the last week or so when I tell people where I'm going in France I end up telling Dad's story. I think I have perfected an abbreviated "elevator" version but repeating it makes me think about him. So now we are at gate B17 waiting for our flight. It will be very nice to retrace some of his steps

At our gate!!

It's getting real....

This time next week, I will be in France.  There are so many things I am looking forward to.  I canNOT wait to see Christine and Patrick and meet Michael.   Their father held my father’s life in his hands.   Jules Morel knew the consequences of his compassion, but his compassion overcame his fears.

Patrick and I were pen pals back in the dark days of snail mail and land lines.  As we grew up, the letters faded. 

In 1975 I had the honor of going with my parents to see the Morel’s.   It was the first time that my father had seen Jules Morel since WWII.  We walked through the town and met people that had been a part of concealing my father.  They would always point at his  once jet black hair that was now white and laugh with joy.  At every house went visited, they served us alcohol in some form.  At 15, I had never had this much (okay, ANY) alcohol and was pretty looped by that evening.  My parents thought it was hysterical.

Last April, John and I went to Poperinge, Belgium and I was able to find where the Morel’s store was.  I will get confirmation when we see Chris and Patrick.  

We are meeting on 7/20 at the tourism office in Poperinge.  So, if you hears squeals of joy, that will be me.

How Did We Get Here...

In the 1990's when my girls were little,  I would bring them to dinner at my parent's house several nights a week.  After dinner, the girls would play upstairs with Grandma and I would sit with my dad next to his computer.  When he retired, he bought a computer and was completely fascinated by it.  He'd always have a list of questions for me and show me proudly what he had done during the day.

Often our conversation would drift away from the computer. 

He would talk about his mom and remember that as a little boy he'd slip out of bed to listen to her play the piano and sing. She died before I was born, but I got to know and love her from my father's story and the look on his face when he talked about her.

One the time he came home from school (little brother in tow) crying because he thought he had swallowed his tongue.  His brother, Charlie, cried in solidarity.  I could hear the love when he talked about his mother and there would sometimes be a tear.  I could hear the love and sadness when he talked about Charlie.

Or how at the age of 80-something, he didn't feel any different than he did when he was 12.

Dad rarely talked about his father, but when he did I could tell their relationship was distant.  He told me once that he thought he would have been a disappointment to his father, but Dad didn't care because he was happy.

It was about this time when my father was persuaded to write down what happened to him during World War II.   It was always hard for me to picture my father as a soldier, however while he was working on this, it would be on his mind and he'd talk about it some.  When I read his final product, I realized that he left out some details.

When the Germans found my dad hidden at the Titron's house, they locked him alone in a room and told him he was going to be shot in the morning.  He sat there all night thinking about this.

His story of the evacuation and boat ride had one more detail that he left out.  The men were tossed into the boat and the men at the bottom were crushed. 

To me, this excerpt explains why he left it out.  I am sure other stories are lost as well.

"For a long time, several years, I tried not to think of this experience.  If I thought of it, I felt the despair of that moment.  I didn’t know how long I would be down there or where I was going.  The guards pushed so hard at the start, I was lucky to hang on to the ladder.  The climb down was easier, I had nothing to carry."

Getting Used to Blogging

Edie coached me through being able to both post to the Blog and see what is posted so I'm prepared to be a full participant. On Sunday I updated the European maps on my Tom Tom so we are ready to find our way. I'm about 30% through "D-Day" by Stephen Ambrose which is putting me in the mood. I'm also going to reread my Dad's story on the way over.