Chapter Eleven

Adeline lived under Jeanne's unrelenting gaze. Every moment was a war raged with watchful eyes and icy silences. She would never let Adeline be alone with Wilhelm again. She was determined to prevent their relationship from growing much deeper. Since then, Wilhelm didn't have a chance to spend time with Adeline like before. In the solitude of Adeline's thought, she relived their stolen moments and the tender confession of his love. "He cares for me. It seems to be impossible to be with him. It will hurt my mother and brother's feelings if they know I am dating a German soldier," she said. Wilhelm was like a dream she didn't want to wake up from. He made every moment a memory that she would cherish forever. But now she had to wake up from her dream because she had to face the painful truth.

The summer sun beat down as Adeline walked. Sweat ran down her face; she pushed damp strands of hair with a frantic gesture. The acacias and the poplar trees lining the street offered respite, their leaves trembling in the breeze. She arrived at the River Cher. It nestled between two villages which was also a part of the demarcation line set up by the Germans which split France in two parts, a free zone in the south and an occupied zone in the north. She leaned against the bridge parapet to watch the water flowing beneath the arch of the bridge. Above the bridge, there was the checkpoint; two armed German soldiers were guarding between a barrier gate and a sentry box. Everyone had to show them a travel pass to enter or exit from the occupied zone.

Adeline's gaze drifted to Saint-Aignan, nestled on the far bank in the free zone and she thought, "The French from the free zone accused Parisians of consorting with the Germans. On the other hand, Parisians criticized them for blatantly showing off their egoistical satisfaction at not being occupied. The division of France into two zones deepened the ill feelings that separated the French from one another."

Her eyes fell upon the arch of the bridge. The memory hit her with the force of physical blow. June 1940. A multitude of German soldiers came to Noyers. They filled the village square and the streets –more of them, endlessly. From the Blois road, they bombarded Saint-Aignan with the shells of the artillery. The torrent of the shells hit some of the French soldiers, the tower of the castle and other buildings; roofs caved in, walls crumbled, everything caught fire. The explosion sent out a horrible echo through the air. It drowned out the thousand sounds of the village. The gunfire between them ensued; bullets sped along the air, striking walls and piercing human fleshes. The French blew up the arch of the bridge to prevent the German advance in Saint-Aignan. They keep putting up a resistance against the enemies and managed to do so for twenty four hours.

A sudden movement caught Adeline's eyes. Pierre, a familiar figure navigated his bicycle through the throng of passers-by, deftly slipping flyers into outstretched hands. At first glance, she thought he was distributing commercial flyers. Pierre braked smoothly before her, still sitting on his bicycle.

"Adeline," he whispered. His voice was urgent, barely audible. "We must unite to drive out the Boche."He stressed the forbidden word 'Boche' because Every Frenchman knew the Germans never liked being called with that contemptuous term. He took out the leaflet of his sling bag and placed it in her hand. Then, with a brief nod, he was gone, swallowed by the relentless flow of the crowd.

Adeline unfolded the leaflet and started to read it:

Advice to the occupied

Have no illusions: the Germans are not tourists. They are the conquerors. You don't know their language or you have forgotten it. If one of them speaks to you in German, shrug helplessly and go quietly on your way.

The words, simple yet powerful, struck a chord deep within her. They were a mirror reflecting the grim reality of their lives under occupation. She felt a mixture of fear and admiration. "Pierre," she whispered. "He fights with everything he has. He does this for all of us."

Days bled into nights, nights into mornings. More than thousands anti-German flyers had circulated in Noyers secretly. The villagers buzzed with an awareness of the resistance. Their powerful messages ignited the spirit of revolt, as powerful as the appeal of 18 June 1940 broadcasted on BBC Radio by a French General, Charles De Gaulle: "France has lost a battle but France has not lost the war. Whatever happens, the flame of the French resistance must not be extinguished and will not be extinguished."

The resistance fighters intensified their campaign of defiance. Their calls to action resonated, culminating in a bold public display: stickers emblazoned with "Vive de Gaulle" appeared everywhere – street signs, lamppost, and even public latrines. All eyes turned to these defiant symbols. The villagers instantly recognized the reference to Charles De Gaulle's broadcast. They whispered among themselves. "He's a symbol of opposition to the occupation. This is a call to arms." Far from it, the hushed voice ran through the long queue. A middle aged woman fanned herself with a ration book, confided, "I've made a vow: I will never speak to the Germans. Yesterday, a young soldier tried but I simply shrugged and walked away." A quite pride filled her as she told her a small act of defiance.

Then what did Wilhelm think about this nascent French resistance? He stared at a "Vive de Gaulle" sticker plastered on a stop sign. "We're living in the midst of a population that has only hatred for us," he said thoughtfully.

Adeline watched from across the village square as a young resistance stuck a similar sticker to the bumper of a German staff car parked outside the café. Moments later, a German officer in a field captain's uniform emerged; his boots gleamed and his uniform was tidy. He checked his wristwatch and then his eyes fell upon the sticker on the bumper of the German staff car. His face contorted in fury as he scanned the square, searching the culprit.

Adeline couldn't suppress a chuckle. "They make the Germans the butt of jokes," she said.