Fig. 3 Trant’s Route Across France
“I say, what do you think, Alain?” Trant queried.
“It’s probably good advice. If you stay here, you run the risk that the German Army will get pushed into this area, thereby bringing the possibility of your capture back into the picture.”
“How do you see us getting to Argentan, Alain?”
“Unfortunately, traveling by vehicle is much too risky right now. I would think that the safest way is on foot, just as you undertook to arrive here in Chartres.”
“Do you have a contact in Argentan?”
“Yes, I can arrange for them to meet you south of the city and place you within a safe house so that you shall be out of the line of fire when the British Army arrives there.”
“How soon will that be?”
“They predict a week to ten days, which should give you enough time to go by the roundabout route through Le Mans. It will be safer that way, and there are resistance fighters in Le Mans who can help you from there.”
“Right-o. I suppose that we had better begin preparing for our journey. Can you provide us with supplies for the trek?”
“Certainly. Actually, I might go with you, if that is alright with you, sir.”
“Of course it is. Why do you want to go with us?” Trant inquired.
“No particular reason. I feel that I’m wasting my time here. I want to be in on the action. The truth is, I’m bored now that Felicité is gone. She made every day exciting.”
“Yes, I know what you mean, Alain.”
“I hope that we shall see her again.”
Not yet feeling up to being reminded of her, Trant replied evasively, “As do I…as do I. When do you want to leave for Le Mans?”
“I think that we can arrange everything within a couple of days. Let’s plan to leave on the night of June 24.”
“Right. We shall rest up until then.”
Three nights later the group of four British airmen, now accompanied by Alain Lesieutre, left Chartres on foot for Le Mans. Whereas it had taken them five days to travel more than seventy-five miles to Chartres, it now required nearly twice as long to go the sixty miles to Le Mans. They had not counted on the increased military traffic they would encounter and necessarily be required to avoid as they moved in the direction of the battlefield. There were now Germans everywhere, thus forcing them to slow their progress considerably. They only made about eight miles per night, thus causing them to go through their food supplies by the time they had travelled little more than halfway to Le Mans.
Fortunately, as Alain knew this part of France quite well, he was able to link up with friends along the way, thus providing food, and on one occasion they were even supplied with a barn to sleep within during the day.
They arrived in Le Mans on July 2, whereupon they were informed by the resistance fighters that the British were still inexplicably bottled up in Caen. They therefore realized that they needed to adjust their anticipated arrival date in Argentan backwards by at least a week. Accordingly, they remained concealed in a safe house in Le Mans for several days before proceeding north toward Argentan.
On the night of July 10 they advanced northward on foot, this time provisioned for a full week of hiking. Unfortunately, things had now deteriorated still further. They were only able to make five or six miles each night, as the countryside was simply crawling with Germans that were apparently being pushed eastward by the Americans. Still, by remaining concealed in the daytime and traveling well away from roadways at night, they made it to Argentan on July 20, where they were met as expected by local members of the resistance.
The first question Trant asked them was, “Have the British arrived yet?”
“I’m afraid the situation has changed dramatically, Wing Commander,” he was informed by Arnaud Ladeveze, head of the local resistance. “The British are still north of Falaise. Meanwhile, the American 1st and 3rd Armies are sweeping in from the south and west. The Germans seem to be counterattacking towards the west in an attempt to drive the Americans back to Avranches.”
“So what does all of that mean for us?” Trant queried.
“It means, monsieur, that Argentan could perhaps be the center of the entire battlefield within a few days. We may well find ourselves in the middle of the biggest battle in the entire history of France.”
“I say. That is quite disconcerting. Perhaps we should head back south,” Trant suggested.
“I think not, monsieur. The German Army is pushing west just south of here at this very moment. You were extremely fortunate to make it through from Le Mans, and now there is no departure route from Argentan that is safe. I’m afraid that we must all find cover and wait for further developments. Fortunately, we have a safe house in the city that has a fortified basement. We should make our way there with all due haste and await further developments.”
Accordingly, the small party made their way into Argentan under cover of darkness, subsequently arriving at the safe house without incident. The following three weeks was a nightmare as the Germans moved up in great force and built up the defenses of Argentan against the Allies. The group was forced throughout to remain concealed within their underground bunker night and day. By early August they had all become stir crazy from the heat and claustrophobia.
Then one morning they heard shooting close by. At first it was just small arms fire, but it shortly grew into a full scale battle. Argentan had become the apex of the battlefield, and they had walked importunely directly into the middle of it. For the next three days they remained under cover within their hideout and, unable to even venture outside to relieve themselves, they ran out of both food and water.
On the morning of August 13 there was an eerie silence in the city. Fearing the worst, the group remained within their bunker. But around mid-morning there came a rapping at their bunker door and, hearing English spoken without, they opened the door to be greeted by American soldiers. After more than two months behind enemy lines, Trant had managed to lead his fellow airmen to safety.
Nine days later the German 7th Army was encircled and captured at Falaise, thereby ending the battle of Normandy. Two days later the Allies marched into Paris, in the process liberating the capital of France after more than four years under German occupation.
Trant and his fellow airmen were transported to the mulberry harbor at Arromanches on August 28. From there a launch carried them out to a waiting transport ship that docked at Portsmouth the following day.
Portsmouth – August 29, 1944
Trant was preparing to go ashore when he heard a knock on his cabin door. Tugging it open, he was surprised to see a general step into his tiny cabin. “Father!” he exclaimed, not knowing whether to salute or embrace him, but General Sutherland beat him to it, grabbing him in an enormous hug.
“Trant, son, tis wonderful to see you all in one piece. This damned war has tried hard to get the better of us, but our family seems to be holding its own.”
“Thank you, sir,” Trant responded, “Is everything alright here in England?”
“Yes, the Home Office is pushing along just fine, and the invasion is finally going better than expected.”
“Why is it taking so long?” Trant queried.
“Right, the Germans have been putting up one hell of a fight, but our casualties have been lower than expected. When we finally closed the gap and encircled the German 7th Army at Falaise, we captured more than a hundred thousand German soldiers. And because the remainder of their forces retreated north of the Seine, the Allies now have a clear path to the Rhine. Churchill is predicting the war will be over within the year.”
“Wow! And to think, I missed it all,” Trant responded.
“Whatever on earth are you talking about! You were pivotal. You and Felicité pulled off the opening engagement of the entire invasion, throwing German Headquarters in Paris into complete disarray. And thereafter we intercepted all of the Germans’ m
essages. They never had a chance. And you got shot down behind enemy lines and nevertheless managed to escape. I couldn’t be more proud of you, son.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that, but I feel like while the greatest battle of the war has been raging, I’ve been hiking in the woods for the past few months. In fact, the way I feel at the moment, I never want to go hiking again!” And at this announcement both he and his father chuckled in mutual relief.
“I have a surprise for you, son,” the elder Sutherland now offered.
“A surprise? What sort of surprise, sir?”
“Your mother is waiting for us down on the dock.”
“Oh, my goodness. I say, we had better be going, father. We wouldn’t want to keep Lady Sutherland waiting, would we!”
She was awaiting Trant at the bottom of the gangplank, something that Trant had never before experienced in his life. While he had disembarked from ships in his time, his mother had never been awaiting his arrival. Thus, the two shared the sort of embrace that can only be shared between a mother and her son on his return from harm’s way.
“Mother! Tis so good to see you!” he said as they clasped one another tightly.
Grasping him within a second even more profound embrace, she responded, “My son! I am so proud of you!” When they finally released one another, she wiped away a telltale tear and slipped between her two Sutherland men. Thenceforth grasping each with a hand, she pushed them forward, exclaiming with bursting pride, “Come, my husband and my son, the two shining lights of my life, tonight we must celebrate!” And celebrate they did.
Auschwitz, Poland - October, 1944
Felicité was awakened one morning in October by the sound of gunfire. She was informed shortly thereafter by one of her fellow concubines that there was an uprising set off by the prisoners. The shooting continued throughout the day, but the women in the concubine barracks were guarded too carefully for them to even consider the thought of escape. As it turned out, they were lucky that they hadn’t attempted to break out. All of the escapees were subsequently captured and executed.
Wharton Manor – Late October, 1944
Trant wandered into the sitting room and, finding his mother sunning herself, he settled within the seat adjacent to her and proffered, “I’m so glad I was given this opportunity to come home for a few days. I don’t mind telling you, this war has worn me down. In truth, I can hardly remember a time when there wasn’t a war.”
“Tell me about it,” she agreed and, glancing inquisitively toward him, she commented idly, “I should have thought you would have preferred to remain in London for your holiday, however brief.”
“Why ever for, Mother? I’ve spent quite enough time there for a lifetime, I should think.”
“But I assumed that you would want to stay near to Annabeth,” she asked distantly.
Lurching within his seat, he blurted, “Annabeth? Why, I’ve not seen her in months.”
“Oh?” she responded, one eyebrow now arched in surprise.
“Yes, well, I broke it off, if you must know.”
“I see. Exactly when was that, Trant?”
“Well, I suppose technically it was just after I returned home in August. But in reality, it was quite a bit earlier than that.”
“My, that is revealing,” she muttered, “Why was I not informed of this, my son?”
“I don’t know, I suppose I was too busy. What with the clandestine operation involving Lieutenant Delacroix, I was quite busy right up to the moment I was deployed for the D-Day invasion.”
“Right,” was her doubtful reply.
Eyeing her suspiciously, he responded, “See here, mother, what’s this all about?”
“I don’t know dear,” she replied apprehensively, “Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one that’s prancing around in circles.”
Eyeing her yet again, he now confessed, “Yes, I suppose you’re right…” his voice trailing off for a moment.
“Well?” she inquired in encouragement.
“Yes, well, I suppose it goes back to that time at Christmas. You know, when all of us got together the last time.”
“Ah, yes, the Christmas of 1942,” she put in.
“Right, well, as I’m sure you well know, despite my attraction to her I never considered Felicité a suitable match. But something happened during her visit at Christmas. I don’t mind telling you, I came away from that weekend quite under her spell. Perhaps it was that snippy little argument we shared, but there is no point in denying that by weekend’s close she had somehow developed a hold on me.
“So I returned to London after the holiday, now confused by my simultaneous attraction to two different women. Annabeth and I had just taken up together, and I was now experiencing serious feelings for Felicité. I managed to keep it from Annabeth, but I determined to see Felicité as soon as possible in hopes of getting to the bottom of it all.”
“So, what happened, Trant?” his mother interjected. “Why did you not follow through with Felicité?”
“Right. Well, as you know, certain military matters converged shortly thereafter, matters having to do with Felicité. In the course of those developments I was made aware of certain additional, shall we say – information – regarding Felicité. I don’t mind telling you, it was quite shocking; so much so, that it caused me great consternation. And in such a state, I dithered for something onto two months, by which time I had been appointed to be Felicité’s contact for her mission to France.”
“I see,” she prodded, “Go on.”
“Well, there was certainly no way that I could bring up my personal suspicions to Felicité on the eve of her departure, as any distraction on her part might have endangered both the mission and her own life. So I determined to put it out of my mind for the time being.
“Unfortunately, once she had departed for training in Birmingham, I fell into a sort of swoon and, having continued to see Annabeth, I proposed marriage to her on the spur of the moment,” and eyeing his mother forlornly, he added, “I realize it must sound immature on my part.”
“War will do that to one,” she put in pithily. “So what transpired subsequent to that?”
“Well, the strangest thing. When Felicité parachuted from that plane over Normandy, I suddenly felt my heartstrings breaking, as if they had somehow plummeted to the earth with her. That was the moment that I realized the meaning of what you had told me on that morning after the party. I realized that war had somehow changed me, that I no longer cared one whit about Felicité’s past transgressions, that what I really cared about was Felicité herself.”
“So I was right!” she cackled gleefully, adding, “I told you so!”
“Yes, mother, and I apologize for doubting you. But it all came right in the end, or at least I thought so until Felicité was captured.”
“Not to divert you, but what happened between you and Annabeth?”
“Oh, nothing. I cooked up an excuse to wriggle out of a tryst that we had planned to Bath, and thereafter I was able to keep her at a distance by using the excuse that I was distracted by the complexities of my military obligations.”
“And did you apprise her of the details regarding those complexities, Trant?”
“No. I was under strict orders of confidentiality.”
“Did she ever inquire as to Felicité’s whereabouts?”
“No, not that I recall. I did let slip that she and Maryann had visited Wharton Manor for Christmas, at your invitation of course.”
“Ah, and how did she take that, Trant?”
Shaking his head blankly, he replied, “She seemed to accept it for what it was, although, now that I think about it, she did ask if Felicité was still working on assignment for General de Gaulle in London, at which I allowed that she had been transferred overseas.”
“Well, that must have soothed her suspicions.”
“What suspicions, mother?”
“Oh, one must have the hea
rt and soul of a woman to understand these things. Just never you mind, dear.”
“Right, well, to continue…once I returned from France, I determined to face Annabeth and inform her as to the truth.”
“And what truth is that?” she inquired hopefully.
“That ours was not to be.
“And how did she take it?”
“Rather well, I suppose, although I could sense that she was devastated.”
“I see. And did she inquire as to why?”
“Well, no, but I suppose that, given my feelings of guilt at her reaction, I offered that I had been distracted by another.”
“Oh, my…” she murmured and, grasping her throat impulsively, she added convulsively, “That may not have been wise…”
“Why ever for? I was simply trying to let her down softly.”
“Yes, well, tis water under the bridge, as they say,” she opined and, now changing the subject, she suggested, “What say we go for a stroll in the garden, like old times?”
“I say, nothing would make me happier. Shall we?” and so saying, the two arose and meandered from the room.
Auschwitz – Early November, 1944
Felicité began to notice that the horrid stench from the ovens had mysteriously begun to dissipate. They were eventually told that the executions had been terminated, but they were not told why. Being the last addition to the concubines, Felicité was only too aware of the Normandy invasion six months earlier. Privately, she suspected that the Allies were finally closing in and if this was true, she reasoned that all she had to do was survive for a few more months. She therefore redoubled her efforts to keep her captors sufficiently enamored with her that she could continue stealing food at night.
Auschwitz – January, 1945
Felicité was awakened and told to gather whatever clothing she could, that all of the prisoners were being moved to another camp. Along with everyone remaining within the concubine room, Felicité was then forced to join the 60,000 remaining inmates. They walked through the gate of Auschwitz for the last time on January 17, 1945. Where they were headed to no one knew. The march that unfolded was beyond imagination. Despite what they had already been through, this was even worse than anything they had previously experienced. They walked for three days without food, during which nearly a third of the prisoners either died from the cold, malnutrition, or exhaustion, or they were unceremoniously executed when they refused to continue.
Because Felicité had over the previous seven months stolen food whenever and wherever she could, she was in better shape than most of her fellow prisoners. After three days she and the remaining survivors were put on a train and shipped west in an open cattle car. Had she not managed to remove a coat from one of the inmates that had perished during the forced march, she would probably have died from the extreme cold during her transport in the open cattle cars.
As it was, she arrived two weeks later at a camp in Germany named Bergen-Belsen. She and the surviving inmates were forthwith placed in an overcrowded barracks, where they were fed a tiny meal of weak soup and water. She was completely exhausted and barely coherent, but she was nonetheless alive.
Fig. 4 Felicité’s Route Across Europe