France Ⅰ Whispers of the Occupied

　　État français, Paris, March 10, 1960, 7 a.m.

　　In the spring sunshine, Paris was bright and beautiful, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs-Elysées, and the Seine were full of tourists, and the whole city was bustling. The people of Paris are busy preparing for the upcoming March 21, Nazi Party Founding Day.

　　On the left bank of the Seine River, near the Luxembourg Palace, There is a luxurious manor house surrounded by high walls and gardens. On the outside, there are French and German flags hanging on the walls, and there are French and German guards in front of the door.

　　Inside the building, a man is standing by the window. He is wearing a dark Black silk robe. He is about forty years old. He has a thin face and a sharp nose. There was a knock on the door. "Come in." A well-dressed woman opened the door. She was in her thirties, and she was beautiful. "It's time to take your medicine."

　　"Not yet." The man looked out the window. He did not look at her. Outside the window, the black, white and red flag of greater Theechland fluttered together with the tricolor flag of Frankland. "Look at those two flags. How did this happen? I'm the leader of the Frankish Reich, and I'm not even the master of my own house. I have to live under the roof of another country."

　　"Come on, dear. Take your medicine."

　　The woman walked over and handed the man a cup of warm milk. The man took the cup and drank the medicine. The bitter taste made him frown. "This is terrible. How many more years will I have to drink this?"

　　"Come on, darling. The doctor said the medicine would help you. Besides, the doctor said it's not good for you to talk so much. If you get upset, your heart will get worse."

　　"I'm not getting upset, and I'm not talking too much. I'm just thinking about things." The man shook his head. "Look, I've lived here for 20 years, and I've worked very hard. I've done everything the Führer asked me to do, and I've always followed the Führer's orders. Now I'm in my 50s, and my body is getting worse and worse. I have to drink medicine every day, and the doctor says my heart is not good. The Führer is still young and healthy, and he's 67 years old. How can this be?"

　　"Don't think about these things, dear. Let's just think about ourselves. We have a good life. We have everything we need. We have a beautiful home, and we have plenty of money. And most importantly, we're alive."

　　"Alive? I don't think so. I'm a prisoner here. I'm a prisoner of the Third Reich. I'm a prisoner in this house." The middle-aged man returned the cup to his wife. "Where is Chantal?"

　　"She's at school, dear. She'll be home soon. Don't worry, I'll bring her to see you later. Now, come to bed and get some rest. You've been up all night."

　　"I know that I worry about myself all day long, about labor, my motherland, and my family." The middle-aged man walked towards the stairs with bare feet. "Today I'm going to meet with American investigative journalists."

　　"You're not supposed to have any meetings. You're supposed to rest. Didn't you say you were sick? What do you want to meet with journalists for?"

　　"Because the truth needs to be told, and I'm the only one who can tell it. Is breakfast ready? I'm starving."

　　"Yes, darling. It's ready."

　　The middle-aged man walked down the stairs and entered the dining room. His wife had already served breakfast on the table. The man sat down and started eating. "I need to be interviewed by an American investigative reporter, on orders from the Germans. Speaking of the United States, their investigative reporters are some beauties."

　　"What do you mean by that?" The middle-aged woman glared at him.

　　"Calm down. I'm not going to have an affair with her."

　　"You better not, or else I'll kill you!" The middle-aged man cut bread with a knife and fork and looked up at his wife, a young girl he met in Paris in 1945. She was a typical traditional Catholic woman. She got married in 1947 and gave birth to a pair of children. Now, the little girl who was crying and calling him 'Papa' was no longer a little girl, and the boy was not a baby either. They were a teenager and a Children. They were the best thing that ever happened to him.

　　"Monique, after all, why did you marry me in the first place? I was just a squad leader and a widower, and You was 11 years older."

　　"I love you, and that's why I married you."

　　"Really? But back then, your mother, brothers, and sisters hated me."

　　"They hated you because they thought you were a German soldier. I mean collaborators, but they were wrong. You're a hero. You're a brave soldier. You're not a traitor, and you're not a Nazi."

　　"You're too kind." The middle-aged man smiled sadly, and he continued to eat. "You said if the former Führer Hitler had failed, where would we be now?"

　　"What does this have to do with anything? Just because the new Führer is a little crazy, you don't have to be too serious. After all, he has brought prosperity to Greater Germany, and he's brought peace and stability to the world."

　　"You're right, we shouldn't talk about this, things that don't exist don't need to be considered. By the way, are you aware of the fact that the American media is reporting that there is evidence of the Holocaust?"

　　"It's just the opinion of some journalists. You don't have to believe them. What can we do? It's impossible for the Germans to kill millions of people. Even the Soviets won't do such a thing. It's just that some Americans have nothing better to do than spread rumors and slander." The middle-aged man stood up and kissed her cheek, and then he went upstairs. He opened a wardrobe, and he took out a dark grey military uniform.

　　When the middle-aged man saw the uniform, he couldn't help but tremble. It had been a long time since he had worn a military uniform, and he hadn't expected it to be so exciting. He slowly put on his military uniform.

　　Since Plan Blue's victory in the air war with Britain in 1942, the Germanic armies had experienced rapid development, and the uniforms were redesigned.

　　The field gray uniform has become a dark grey uniform. The gray trousers have become black, and the buttons on the chest have become brass. The shoulder straps have a double pip on the left, and the rank is a captain. There is also a badge of the French Légion d'honneur on the chest. On the cap, there is a silver eagle, and the cap badge is a laurel wreath with the word 'Frankland' behind it.

　　The middle-aged man looked at his uniform in the mirror and nodded. "It's a little tight, but it's not bad. This is the uniform I wore during the Battle of Frankland, when I was promoted from lieutenant to captain. It was the happiest moment of my life."

　　"Don't think about it anymore. You've lost a lot of weight, and you have to make some adjustments to the size of your clothes. Let's go, the American reporters are waiting."

　　"All right, let's go."

　　The middle-aged man walked to the front hall, and the French policeman standing outside the door saluted him. "Good morning, Captain."

　　"Morning, Pierre."

　　The middle-aged man drove the car out of the gate, and the policeman stood in place and watched the car go. "You've got to be kidding. You can't let him go out alone."

　　"It's not a big deal. He's not going far, and he's going to meet a bunch of reporters. It's not like he's going to a secret meeting."

　　The middle-aged man's car is a Mercedes-Benz produced by Daimler-Benz at its factory in northern Frankland, which has now become a subsidiary of the German automobile company, and is located on the left bank of the Seine River, about twenty kilometers north of Paris.

　　After passing several intersections, he drove the car into the Luxembourg Palace (formerly the seat of the Senate of the Third French Republic) and parked his car. Several journalists were waiting for him, and there were cameras and recorders. The middle-aged man walked towards the journalist.

　　"Mr. Paul Touvier, hello. My name is David, and I'm from Life magazine. Thank you for agreeing to meet us."

　　"Hello, Mr. David." Paul Touvier smiled, "You don't have to say thank you, the Germans asked me to come here. You are welcome. I have no comment until a formal press conference is held. Please give way."

　　"Please wait a minute, Mr. Paul." A tall young man stepped forward. He was wearing a plaid jacket and a bow tie, and he was holding a notepad and a pen. Paul bypassed them and hurried into the Luxembourg Palace, ignoring them. The young man hurriedly followed him. "Wait, please! I'm not an ordinary reporter, I'm from Time Magazine, and my name is Andrew. I'm the chief editor of Time Magazine."

　　When Paul entered, soldiers at the door blocked them with ceremonial rifles. Under the stairs in the hall, there was an old man wearing a French SS uniform waiting for him. Paul shook his sweaty hands and walked quickly over to stand at attention and salute. "Hey! Victory!"

　　"At ease, Paul. What's wrong with you? Why are you so nervous? Relax. We're just going to have a press conference. Come with me. You can rest in the office and get dressed. Please explain why you are half an hour late?"

　　"Sorry, Reichsführer-SS Joseph Darnand, it's all my fault. My wife was a little late preparing breakfast. Please forgive me." Paul tried to follow the gray-haired old man, who was walking towards the second floor.

　　"It's fine, the Americans have a lot of time, and we're not in a hurry. Let's go. What's the matter with you, Paul? You're so nervous. Do you have any idea what you're doing today?"

　　"Of course, sir, I'm very grateful. Today is the greatest honor of my life, and I am deeply honored to have the opportunity to speak before the world."

　　"I don't think so, Paul. We're not going to announce the death sentence for you, and the world is not going to stop. We're just going to release an official statement." Joseph Darnand, National Leader of the French SS, took out a cigarette and lit it, and a thin column of smoke rose into the air. "Don't forget, Our press conference is to counter the rumors of American liberals. You must be realistic and tell only the truth."

　　"Of course, Reichsführer, you can count on me."

　　"All right, let's go to the dressing room. You'll need to change into a clean suit. We're not going to the funeral. Don't be so serious."

　　"Yes, Reichsführer-SS. By the way, where's the president? I thought the president would be present."

　　"No, it's too busy to have the president here. It's enough to have the head of the French SS."

　　The press conference was held inside the Luxembourg Palace. The hall is a large rectangular space with high windows, and the walls are covered with portraits of famous people in French history. In the center of the hall is a stage. At the front of the stage is a table, and on the table is a flag. The flag has a large red circle on a black background. There are 12 red five-pointed stars arranged around the circumference. This is the flag of the National Socialist French Salvation Society.

　　The French National Socialist Salvation Society was a governing organization formed in 1947 by the merger of various fascist parties such as the French Movement. Ironically, the French Socialist Party, a fascist party formed by the former leader of the Cross of Fire Party, joined the resistance movement.

　　A crowd of journalists and photographers were standing in front of the stage. Among them are several representatives of American newspapers, such as the New York Times and the Washington Post. Directly above the stage are the flag of Frankland and two portraits of Pierre Jean Marie Laval, the deceased Marshal Pétain and current head of state of Frankland.

　　The middle-aged man came onto the stage and sat at the table. The gray-haired old man sat beside him. There were microphones in front of him, and he could see the flash of the cameras. "Paul, what's the matter? You're sweating again. Are you okay?"

　　"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just a little nervous."

　　"Okay, just calm down and don't be nervous. First, Helga Goebbels, spokesperson for the German Foreign Ministry; Second, Joseph Darnand, the head of the French SS and the national leader of the French Salvation Society; Third, Paul Touvier, chief of the Frankish police and a member of the National Assembly."

　　Helga Goebbels, daughter of the Nazi Party leader, stepped up to the podium. Her presence commanded attention, and the room fell silent. "Ladies and gentlemen," she began, her voice steady, "thank you for joining us today. Allow me to introduce myself—I am Helga Goebbels, spokesperson for the German Foreign Ministry. My role involves handling foreign affairs, and this press conference is part of my duty."

　　A young American investigative reporter, her attire revealing, stood up. "Ms. Goebbels," she said, her tone sharp, "reports from the United States indicate that Jews suffered horrific persecution and mass killings during the Second World War. Is this true? Did the Germans truly perpetrate these atrocities?"

　　Helga hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "The truth is complex," she replied. "Historical research reveals a tangled web of events. The Jewish people, it is documented, engaged in acts that harmed the Aryan population. Millions of Germanic lives were lost, including in the Holocaust."

　　"But who bears responsibility for the Holocaust?" the reporter pressed.

　　Helga's eyes shimmered, unshed tears threatening to spill. "Our investigation persists," she declared. "The Germans, in their actions, believed they were meting out deserved consequences to the Jews. Yes, we confined Jewish individuals from 1933 to 1950, but subsequent events—the outbreak of what we now call the Great Plague—unleashed further tragedy. We cannot evade our responsibility."

　　The reporter leaned in, her gaze unyielding. "And this 'Great Plague'?" she probed. "Reports hint at a genocidal campaign against the Jewish race, orchestrated jointly by Germans and Russians. Is this accurate?"

　　Helga drew a deep breath, her voice steady. "The truth lies shrouded in history's shadows," she replied. "Yet one fact remains stark: the past harbors secrets we must confront, even when they pierce our hearts."

　　"As we've consistently maintained, the Nazis are not a criminal faction but a political party entrenched in Germany since 1933—a vital part of our nation's fabric. Rumors accusing our party of genocide stem from old criminals who fled the Soviet Union, the United States, and the Jewish State. These are mere oral tales with ulterior motives. I implore the U.S. government to reflect on their own history—the Indians they slaughtered, the Negroes they enslaved—before weaving baseless rumors!"

　　The reporter pressed further. "So, if I understand correctly, you deny all Holocaust accusations? According to reports, Auschwitz, which is a huge industrial complex dedicated to the extermination of the Jews. Is that true?"

　　In the shadowed corridors of history, where truth and propaganda intertwine, Helga Goebbels stood resolute. Her mission: to rewrite the narrative, to weave a tapestry of deception that would cloak the darkest chapters of the past. As the projector hummed to life, its flickering light casting eerie shadows on the walls, Helga addressed the room.

　　"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, her voice steady, "allow us to view this video."

　　The screen illuminated, revealing the German-controlled city of Theresienstadt. But this was no ordinary city; it was a concentration camp—a place where despair and suffering had etched their marks into the very stones. Yet, as the images unfolded, they defied expectation.

　　Old men, women, and children stood in the yard, their faces etched with lines of endurance. The buildings, though modest, exuded an odd sense of comfort. Two-story structures, not the grim barracks one might envision, but rather homes—sanctuaries against the storm. And the meals! Three hearty repasts a day: milk, sausage, eggs, and mineral water. A far cry from the meager rations of other camps.

　　Movies played regularly, a balm for loneliness and boredom. The flickering screen offered solace, a brief respite from the harsh reality beyond. And the SS doctors and nurses—were they angels in disguise? Their examinations and vaccinations seemed almost compassionate.

　　"What kind of concentration camp is this?" scoffed the American reporters. Their laughter echoed through the room, mingling with the whir of the projector. "It's a holiday resort!"

　　Helga's eyes met Molly's, the reporter who had dared to question. "Miss Molly," she said, her tone measured, "sometimes truth wears a mask."

　　Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to address your misconceptions. Concentration camps, often misunderstood as torture and extermination facilities, serve a different purpose altogether. They are, in fact, designated residences for the mentally ill. In our society, there exists a substantial population of individuals grappling with mental health challenges, necessitating their isolation and specialized treatment.

　　Helga Goebbels, a twenty-eight-year-old lioness who imbibed her father's teachings of lies and propaganda from adolescence, now grapples with an internal struggle. Her intestinal fortitude wavers as she delivers her message: "This is the truth. I have no reason to deceive you."

　　Molly, unyielding in her pursuit of clarity, presses further: "According to reports, the Jews have faced persecution and imminent danger. How do you reconcile this with your denial of the Holocaust?"

　　Helga, drawing from her father's wisdom, counters: "Many individuals worldwide claim Jewish heritage, yet they lack the authenticity of true Jews. Their assertions regarding the Promised Land lack credibility. As for those imprisoned in the camp, they were eventually released after the Great Plague outbreak in 1950. Their bodies were reclaimed by relatives and friends. Thus, the camp was not an extermination site but rather a haven for mental patients."

　　In Helga's eyes, humans are advanced animals, swayed not by information's credibility but by their predisposition to believe favorable narratives about themselves while casting doubt on unfavorable ones. The intricate dance of truth and deception continues, leaving us to ponder the fragile threads that bind our perceptions.

　　"The report states that the Jews were transported from all over Europe to Germany and were imprisoned and killed. Is that true?"

　　"It's not a crime for a government to control the immigration of foreigners, and it's not a crime for a government to impose restrictions on immigration. The Jews were not forced to enter Camp. They voluntarily entered the camp, and they were treated well. They were given the best food and medicine, and they were allowed to leave when they were healthy. The Jews are not suffering. On the contrary, they are the most favored foreigners." Helga Goebbels inwardly begged for this launch to be over as soon as possible. Theresienstadt Camp is not a real extermination facility. It is a labor camp and a transit camp.

　　"Then why were so many Jews transported to Germany?"

　　"Miss Molly, the Germans are not an anti-Semitic country, but they do not believe that Jews have a special status, and they should be treated like all other foreigners."

　　"According to the report, the Germans have set up several such concentration camps, and they have been carrying out genocide for more than ten years."

　　"That's not true. We have already seen in the movie Theresienstadt how Jews were treated in the Theresienstadt concentration camp in the Greater German State, which has been very tolerant of Jews since the Middle Ages. We can also see from the movie that the Jews were well-fed, and they had a good time."

　　"So the report is not true?"

　　"We have seen from the video that there is no extermination or torture in the camp, and the Jews were living a good life. All rumors are propaganda attacks by Elizabeth II and the Bolsheviks, and if Miss Molly is still convinced of the rumors, we invite you to visit the camp site. You will see that the Jews are in a better place than the United States and the Soviet Union."

　　"Then can you answer this question?" Molly raised her hand and stood up, "The Jews are a special race. According to the report, the German authorities have used medical experiments on prisoners of war and Jews, and these experiments have led to the death of hundreds of thousands of Jews."

　　"Excuse me, Miss Molly, do you believe the human body can make soap?"

　　"What are you talking about? This is not funny!" Molly said.

　　"The soap made by the German authorities is the most popular product in the country, and it is the favorite product of the German people. But the British government in Britain propagates the idea that we use Jewish corpses to make soap, and you believe that too?"

　　"Is it true or not? It's a fact that the Germans have used the bodies of dead Jews for their own interests."

　　"The British tradition has a long history, dating back to World War I, when the then British government propagated the idea that Germany was using the bodies of German soldiers to make soap. In World War II, they began to propagandize that we were making soap from Jewish corpses." Helga Goebbels sighed and added, "Unfortunately, there are many people in the world who believe this story."

　　"If you really didn't make soap from the bodies of the Jews, why are there rumors?"

　　"Rumors are often spread by unscrupulous people for their own selfish reasons, and they are often based on the truth, but not necessarily the entire truth. The soap produced by the Germans is a high-quality product, but the British have claimed that the soap is made from human flesh. It is obvious that the British are spreading rumors to damage the reputation of the Germans."

　　"Do you think the rumor that the Germans are conducting human experiments is a lie too?"

　　"I don't have to answer this question, because I have already answered your question." Helga Goebbels stepped down from the podium, humans can be manipulated by information, partial information about the same thing can lead to completely different conclusions than complete information; the only problem, she knows the truth about everything.

　　The middle-aged man, who had been watching quietly, finally stood up and walked slowly to the podium. His steps are slow and firm. The man looked around and took a deep breath, "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak here today."

　　Helga Goebbels leaves the press conference. She walks down the stairs and goes out the door, passing the statue of Marshal Pétain, and she stands in front of the fountain, smoking a cigarette. That fucking Theresienstadt concentration camp was a camp used to house WWI Jewish veterans & high ranking Jews while being used for foreign propaganda. That little paradise was even used for a movie. But 160,000 of them were Jewish veterans of the First World War, sterilized Jews or upper-class Jews, who from 1944 onwards were sent to Auschwitz for final processing.

　　Helga Goebbels takes another drag of her cigarette and exhales, her driver pulls up in front of her and gets out of the car and opens the door for her. "Helga Goebbels, what happened to you?" The driver said, "Are you okay?"

　　"Don't ask any more questions. Just take me to the airport." Helga Goebbels gets into the car and leans her head against the window. The car leaves the palace and drives along the Seine River. As Nazi Founders' Day approached, all the streets were lined with the flags of the Greater German and French states, and the streets were bordered by French SS guards under martial law.The head of the Frankland Reich Führer Pierre Jean Marie Laval appeared on the television screen.

　　Helga Goebbels smoked a cigarette and stared at her driver, "Do you know what he did in the past? Do you know what he was like during the war?"

　　"He was a hero of the resistance, a soldier in the Free Frankland Army, a commander, and the leader of the Cross of Fire Party. At least that's what the French learn in their history textbooks. Do you need me to turn on the radio? There's a concert going on at the Eiffel Tower."

　　"No. Let's just sit and listen to the rain." Helga Goebbels looks up. The raindrops are falling on the glass of the car, and they are like the tears of the world.

　　——

　　Paul Touvier stood on the podium, looking at the reporters and photographers. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to thank you all for giving me the opportunity to speak here today."

　　The reporters raised their hands and shouted, "Mr. Touvier, the Americans have accused the German authorities of killing millions of Jews during the war. Is this true?"

　　"The Americans are the most evil and criminal party in history. They have always been the main enemy of Germany. When the Germans were fighting the Red Army and the British, the Americans were not at war. The Americans were sitting at home, enjoying the fruits of peace, and they did not fight in the war. In fact, the United States had an alliance with the Bolsheviks. They sent huge amounts of arms, supplies and funds to the Red Army. They even secretly trained Russian saboteurs and spies in the United States. That's just the way it is, any other questions?"

　　"Mr. Touvier, Spanish report says French Waffen SS and FDS massacred in Algiers, Tunis, and other places."

　　"There was no massacre, and no one was killed. The rumors were spread by the Americans, the Soviets, the British, and the Spanish, and the goal was to discredit us. As we all know, the Americans, the Soviets and the British have never been friends of the French, and the Spanish have always been our enemies. I think you can figure out who's lying." Paul Touvier picked up his glass of water and slowly swallowed. "You see, the Jews are the most hated race in the world. In 1948, they established the Jewish state in Palestine, which is not a part of the territory of the Jews. This is the first act of the Jewish conspiracy, and the result was a world war. The Jewish state, the Zionist Jews, the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, the United States, the Vatican and the Pope, all joined hands and declared war on Greater Germany. The war lasted until 1950. The French suffered tremendous casualties, but we were able to fight off the invaders and liberate ourselves from the threat of the Jewish conspiracy."

　　"Mr. Touvier, how did you join the SS?"

　　"I was a lieutenant in the French army during the war. In the spring of 1940, the British and the Americans sent an invasion force to attack France and occupied the French territories. In the south of France, the Free Frankland Army led by Marshal Henri Philippe Petain fought the invading British and American forces. The situation was desperate, and the army was starving and exhausted. The Germans, who had been allies, sent supplies to the French army, but the British and American armies, the French Resistance, and the Jews all sabotaged the supplies. They killed many German soldiers and blocked the supply of supplies, causing the French army to lose the will to fight." Paul Touvier's eyes are filled with tears.

　　"Mr. Touvier, Will the French State end its colonization of Algeria?" Molly, the American journalist, stood up again and, unlike the traditional German woman, the young and beautiful lady wore a very revealing dress and satin stockings, and she looked like a movie star.

　　"Miss Molly, as you know, Algeria has been an integral part of the French State since 1830. It is impossible to give up this land, and the Germans and the Russians are also unwilling to give up their territories."

　　"But the Algerian people are protesting and want independence, and the Americans are on their side."

　　"Sure, the Americans are on their side. They're not on our side. Algeria is an overseas department of France, not a colony. The Algerian people have the right to decide their future."

　　"But the Algerians are protesting. Do you really think the Algerians support the French state?"

　　"Yes, the Algerian people have never hated the French people, and the Algerian people are proud to be a part of France. The Americans have always slandered the French and tried to divide us, and that's what the Americans are doing now."

　　"But, Mr. Touvier, the Algerians are a part of the Arab world. And will you allow refugees and pro-French Pied-Noir to enter French soil when the war has resulted in so many refugees and atrocities?"

　　"Miss Molly, you should understand the situation. The French are the masters of Algeria, and the Pied-Noirs are the majority. There will be no war in the future. After the war, the Algerians and the Pied-Noir can return to their homeland, and they can return to a prosperous and peaceful life. They are welcome to come back."

　　Paul Touvier looked at her with the eyes of a viper. If the Germans had their way, she'd be hanging in front of the Luxembourg Palace. But the Germans have been kind to the French. They've allowed them to govern themselves, and the Germans have allowed them to keep the lands they conquered in World War I, such as the French Congo and Algeria.

　　The French have had no choice but to be grateful to the Germans and obey their orders, even though the French have no love for the Germans, and they have no love for the Germans' methods. "I'm afraid I have to end this press conference. We are running late, and there are many other things to do." Paul Touvier stood up, bowed slightly and said, "Thank you."