Resistance

For several nights artillery blasted the feeble French defenses then the guns fell silent. We knew the Germans were coming but being far out in the country side little news reached us. We had no radio and outsiders did not come here now that the German army had taken all the major cities. Our little field of vines and olive trees seemed unimportant in the schemes of generals.

One morning a German staff car pulled up to the chateau and a smallish, older man in an officer's uniform was assisted by a corporal with short cropped blond hair who towered like a giant beside the older man.

The officer walked past his young chauffer to our door. I greeted him cheerfully. "I am Phillip Letourneaux, welcome to Chateaux Letourneaux. Can I help you?"

"You speak English? Good, my French is poor, I am Colonel Schmidt. May I look around your property?" he asked as he stepped into the house.

I showed him the house, the barns, the winery and we walked through the fields. I explained that the grapes were a little late this year and so we may need to blend a little more merlot than usual but I expected a decent year.

My wife served fresh bread and wine followed by her very strong coffee. Justine is French and also speaks German. The Colonel seemed impressed by her and enjoyed speaking with her in his native tongue.

As he left the Colonel explained that there would be troops coming to the area and each house would be expected to billet a few soldiers. I said we could accommodate several men and with a wave through the window of the car he left.

It was several more days before we heard any more about troops. It was said that some of our neighbours had joined the resistance but no one approached me. I was considered an outsider. I had come from England a few years earlier. My uncle owned this place and as he had no children had left it to me when he died. Justine I had met when I came for holidays. Her father ran a small hotel in the village and we hit it off as teenagers. When I moved here to manage the winery, she helped me deal with the local merchants and negociants as I spoke very little French. Our love for each other and this land grew and we married.

One day another staff car arrived at our door. This time it carried a more important officer. Baron Von Wienhapps, General. He looked to be about forty, tall with blond hair that he continuously brushed from his forehead. "Monsieur Letourneax," he addressed me, "We have selected your home to billet me and my staff. You and your family will move into the workers quarters behind the barn. My staff and I will use your house. Do you have any problems with that?"

"No, I understand. We will co-orperate. How long will you be with us?" I replied.

"I am hoping to be home for Christmas but there are no guarantees. Please start moving out immediately, I will return with my staff tomorrow." With that the General, clicked his heels and saluted, bowed and left.

Justine was not impressed. She thought I should have shown more resistance but I told her that it was futile. The Germans will take or use whatever they want and hurt or kill anyone that gets in their way. I said I would wait for the right time to fight back but for now we should watch and learn what we can.

We removed all we could from the house and packed away the fine china. We put our fragile and valuable belongings in the old wine cellar. It had a broken door and the stairs carved in dirt a century or more ago were crumbling. The passages were covered with spider webs. But, deep in the cellar lay the real riches: vintages going back many decades. It was with this ancient treasure that we placed things that we hoped would never be found by our German guests.

The General and about ten men of varying ranks moved into our house. We were not allowed inside but from what I could see the General was designing defenses against and English invasion. His maps of fortifications and artillery emplacements would be very valuable to the Allies if I could find a way to get them and smuggle them out.

I had an old camera and some film. One day some repairs were needed in the house and I was asked if I could do them. I put the camera in my toolbox and when no one was looking I took pictures of the maps on the walls and on the table. The next day I put the film in my pocket and walked down the road to the neighbor's house. His son was in the resistance. I gave him the film to pass along. I hope it helped but I never heard back.

One day a group of regular soldiers pitched seven tents in the yard. The tents were not very large and each one had two cots and a small night stand with a wash basin. We expected more troops, probably non-commissioned and regulars would be coming and staying in the tents. The Germans had other uses in mind.

The next day a truck pulled up. In the back were seven young women. We recognised them from the village. Each one was shown to a tent. Then all the officers except the General himself came out and lined up near the tents. They took turns with the girls and when they were done a truck came with a dozen or so regulars and they also enjoyed the girls.

In the evening Justine went to check the girls and make sure they were unhurt. She gave them food and wine and helped them to clean up. When she returned, she wept for them and said their fate was sealed. When the Germans were done with them they would be hung or stoned or drowned by their neighbours. She planned to help them get away when the time came.

Justine and I worked the fields but we knew we could never handle the harvest by ourselves. One day I saw the General walking in the trees behind the house. "Her General, can I have a word please?"

"Phillip, how can I help you" he replied.

"Justine and I cannot handle the harvest and the crush by ourselves. I was wondering if you could provide some men to help us. Perhaps even the girls in the tents could help pick."

"Phillip, you have shown great hospitality and patience with us. Leave it to me. I will get you some help."

Just as he said, a dozen strong regulars plus the seven girls were pressed into service. I directed the crush and soon the great vats were bubbling. I would need more help when the must was ready for the barrels but for now there was nothing to do but celebrate.

We dug a pit near the barn and slow roasted big chunks of beef over a coal fire. Justine made rustic bread. It was a real feast at a very rough time.

I brought out a couple of cases of last year's reserve and organized a crude orchestra. The men brought the piano from the house into the barn. A couple of men played violins and one an accordion. I played piano and one of the girls sang. It was a crazy mix of German, French and English tunes. The officers joined the party and danced the night with the girls. The General spent most of the night dancing with Justine and her former anger with all things German seemed to vanish as the party wound down in the wee hours.

That winter after the wine was safely in barrels and the vines neatly pruned, the great quiet of the season was broken by the sounds of rifle fire and machine guns. The General stood on the porch and gazed across the land. I asked him what was going on. He told me resistance fighters had stormed a garrison and killed a lot of German soldiers in their sleep. But now the tables were turned. A regiment was routing the band of farmers and merchants and there would be retribution.

You could tell the firing squads as the 'bup,bup,bup,bup' of rifle shots came in rapid succession.

We were ordered to assemble in front of the house the next day. The girls were to be taken away probably south, we never heard. Justine would be the General's cook and servant. She would stay in the house. I would be locked in the workers' hut except when needed. The Germans did not want any more trouble from the locals.

For the next few weeks I was kept in my prison. The guards threw me scraps of bread and left over stew or soup from the staff table, usually cold. They often jeered at me but I could not understand their insults as they were all in German.

One day they decided to have me split firewood. At least it got me outside. I worked steadily but not too fast. I wanted to stay out as long as possible.

Then I saw her. Justine. She walked out the front door of the house followed by the General. She was dressed in fine new clothes. Her coat was trimmed with fur and her hair was curled and carefully styled. She wore silk stockings, something that was rationed and very hard to get at that time.

When she saw me her bright smile dropped and a great sadness came to her eyes. The General opened the car door and she entered and he followed. He glanced at me as he got in the car but showed no expression.

I chopped wood all afternoon. The guard was impressed. He gave me a cigarette and lit one himself. We sat on a bench and he told me in broken English what I already knew in my heart. "Your wife makes sleeping with the General. Shhh, don't say I tell you. If she was mine I hang myself."

"I may just do that Corporal but I will hear her side first."

Spring came and with it more outside times. I saw Justine walking, holding hands with him. I saw them kissing once when I looked in the window. I wanted to speak to her but I was never allowed close. I thought about running towards the woods. The guards would machine gun me, death would be quick.

Then the guards gossiped that the English and the Americans had stormed the beaches, the Russians had pushed the Germans back and every available man was being sent to the Eastern front. The officers told the men time and again that such gossip had to stop and they would be disciplined if such talk continued. But it stopped nothing.

My guard told me he was being shipped out the next day and soon there were only a few officers left. I was left to roam the grounds no one seemed to care what I did at that point.

Then one day the staff car and a truck pulled up to the house. The officers and the General left. The old Colonel who I had not seen since that first day came by just as they loaded up and thanked me and said he hoped he might be back when the war was over.

I rushed into the house before the cars were out the gate. It was quiet. I ran upstairs and there she was: My Justine. She had slashed her wrists and blood was everywhere. She was nearly unconscious and quite shocky. I wrapped her wrists with strips I ripped from the bed sheets and held her close under a big comforter to warm her.

As she regained her wits she began to cry "Let me die, please, let me die."

I gave her some brandy and laid her down to sleep on the sofa so I could watch her. I made a chicken for dinner with a few potatoes. When she awoke the house was filled with the smells of roasting chicken. As soon as I saw her eyes open, I went to her.

I sat beside her and stroked her hair. She said "I am dirty, how can you touch me? You should have let me die."

I simply said, "Then I will clean you with my kisses. You are my wife and I love you. Just having you back where I can hold you again is all I need."

"You don't understand. I was not just his whore." she continued. "I was his mistress, his lover. I did willingly what the village girls were forced to do. The General never forced me.

When I began to work in the house, he would talk to me when he ate his meals. He asked me if I needed anything and I said my shoes were falling apart and my feet were sore. He asked to see my foot and he pulled off the old shoe. He saw my blisters and he put ointment on them. He was very tender. Then he said we would go into town and get me some new shoes.

That was how it started: conversations and little favors. He seemed to relish buying me presents: first the shoes, then a new dress, a coat, winter boots and stockings, then more personal things like underwear and intimate sleepwear.

About that time he would ask for a little thank you kiss. When he bought me a diamond necklace I kissed him on the lips but just a light peck. 'Is that all the kiss I get?' he asked. I kissed him a bit longer and then he grabbed me and kissed me a real passionate kiss with tongue.

From that day forward he considered me his. He had me move into his bedroom and treated me like he would a wife. The men just looked the other way.

When he got his orders he told me he could not take me with him. I pleaded with him to take me away from here. I thought you would kill me or if not you the resistance. Of course he could not and he left.

I am so sorry. I will understand if you don't want me. I am worse than a whore. I am an unfaithful wife and a traitor."

With that she began to sob so hard she could hardly get her breath.

I just held her and said that everyone does what they must to survive in a war. "I only want you back and to forget all this." I said as I pulled her even tighter to me.

She still had a hard time opening up to me but over the next weeks and months we gradually began to make love again and we worked in the fields and I took her into town to get supplies. People looked at her as a leper but I stood by her and glared back at those who stared or mumbled as we passed.

The English and Americans and Canadians came. They camped on our land but moved on as the Germans were pushed out.

An American officer decided he liked our place and when he offered to buy it I took his offer. Justine and I moved to London where I still had family but eventually moved to Canada. I bought some land near Oliver, BC with orchards of cherries and apples. I cleared out a field of old apple trees and planted vines of the same varietals were had in France. For a few years we had problems with root stocks but I finally found some that took.

Many years later the area became famous for wine and our son now runs the place. Justine and I enjoy the fruits of his labour and she still makes fresh loaves of rustic bread for the workers and our grandchildren.

We learned when to resist and when you need to bend a little to survive. Survive? We thrived.