Chapter 6
Birth of a War Hero
London – Mid-March, 1943
Trant seemed to be living up to his promise to carve out stints for their wartime courtship, arranging to see Annabeth at least once a week since their meeting at the King’s birthday party in December. They met yet again on a cold and windy night.
“Where are we dining tonight?” Annabeth inquired as the cab passed Trafalgar square.
“Tis a surprise,” Trant replied. “I shall give you a hint, though. Tis on Piccadilly Circus.”
“I’ve no clue,” she responded, “as I’m not from London, as you well now.”
“You’ll see soon enough,” he responded, “But it isn’t a pub.”
“Here we are,” the cab driver said.
Trant climbed out and, subsequently placing Annabeth’s hand in the crook of his arm, he led her to a doorway and drew her within.
“Quite impressive!” she said on entering, “What is this place, Trant?”
“Tis the Criterion Restaurant, an old London standout.”
“Well, give you a gold star, Wing Commander. This place is the top!” she responded enthusiastically.
“Thank you. I thought you should like it.”
Dinner was a magnificent treat and, on the completion of it, Annabeth proffered, “Perhaps I may be getting ahead of myself, but I must say - you’re courting quite impressively, Trant.”
“Why, thank you, Annabeth. I wanted tonight to be perfect, because I have special a request for you.”
Suddenly eyeing him suspiciously, Annabeth responded, “Oh, and what might that be?”
“I have leave in two months’ time. I was wondering if perhaps you might like to come away with me.”
“My, that IS a special request,” she responded, an appreciative smile slowly spreading across her face. “Are Lord and Lady Sutherland aware of this?”
“Of course they are,” he lied. “Alright, seeing as how there is no outwitting you, I confess - this was my mother’s idea. But I don’t mind telling you, I jumped at her suggestion. What do you say, Annabeth?”
“I’m not sure. Where did you have in mind?”
“Bath, if you must know. Tis quite lovely this time of year, you know.”
“Yes, of course, I quite agree,” but then eyeing him doubtfully, she queried, “What exactly are you about, you naughty boy? Do you intend to whisk me away for the purpose of making a wanton woman of me?”
“Of course not, Annabeth. In fact, I was hoping that you might consent to marry me. What say you? Shall we tie the knot?”
“Why, Trant, this quite a surprise,” she fibbed, “I must think a moment. I really hadn’t considered such a possibility.”
“I realize that the circumstances are quite unusual but, after all, it is wartime.”
“Well, I’m not certain. I couldn’t possibly arrange a wedding on such short notice…” she observed thoughtfully.
“Oh, I am most sorry about that. I quite agree. But perhaps we could go on our sojourn incognito, as a sort of celebratory tryst. Thereafter, the wedding could be planned and executed as time permits.”
Arching one eyebrow, she responded with feigned suspicion, “So you DO intend to make me a wanton woman!” but it was clear by her infectiously growing smile that she was all in.
Having copied her infectious smile, he responded pleasantly, “I know, it does look rather bad, but there seems to be no alternative at the moment. I suppose we could put off the tryst for the time being…”
“That won’t be necessary, Trant. What with the war and all, as you so aptly put it, it seems that the clock must be run counterclockwise, at least for the moment,” and, capturing his gaze with hers, she now proffered, “Under the circumstances, I, Annabeth Fletcher, accept the offer of your hand in marriage, Trant Sutherland.”
Birmingham - April, 1943
A month into her training, Felicité was exhausted. She had been taught, tested, trained, and tortured every waking hour of the day for a solid month, and without a moment’s rest. She was having second thoughts about having committed to this assignment, but she understood all too well that there was no turning back. At the end of a month, the training regimen relented just a bit, allowing Felicité to catch her second wind.
One day she was ordered to base headquarters to meet a VIP. Having no earthly idea who it might be, she was ushered into the base commander’s office, whereupon she was floored to see the prime minister himself!
“Ah, here she is,” Mr. Churchill exclaimed, rising from his chair opposite the commander’s desk. “Lieutenant Delacroix, I am Winston Churchill. So good to meet you at last.”
“Mr. Prime Minister, I don’t know what to say. This is quite an honor,” she responded in embarrassment.
Grinning at her admission, Mr. Churchill responded politely, “Lieutenant, I assure you, the honor is entirely mine. The British people are indebted to you for what you are undertaking on behalf of our country. I wish you great success in your assignment, and if all goes as expected, I shall look forward to shaking your hand when we are the victors in this World War.”
“Thank you, sir,” was all she could think of to say.
“And now, let me introduce Flight Officer Vera Atkins,” at which Felicité saluted and shook the hand of the newly introduced officer who accompanied Mr. Churchill.
“Flight Officer Atkins is here to brief you on top secret matters that are only for your eyes and ears, lieutenant. She shall supply you with a full day of intensive training regarding our clandestine operations in France. Please follow her advice implicitly in all matters.”
“Yes, sir,” Felicité responded.
“And now, please follow me, Lieutenant Delacroix,” Flight Officer Atkins commanded, at which she led Felicité from the room.
Arriving at their destination, Flight Officer Atkins announced, “I assume that you know who I am.”
“Yes, I do. My understanding is that you are in charge of the women agents assigned to F Section.”
“That is correct,” Flight Officer Atkins responded. “What you may not be aware of is the fact that our network has recently been compromised. Several of my agents are now missing, as well as quite a few of the male agents.”
“What is going on, Flight Officer Atkins?”
“We do not know yet, but we must assume that the Germans have infiltrated our network in France. That is why your assignment is being handled under a wholly separate process. As such, you will not have direct contact with any of our other agents in France. In addition, you will only be in contact with the most secret members of the French Resistance. Our aim is to get you as close to the top of the German Command in France as possible. If all goes well, we expect you to gain entry to German Headquarters in Paris. Today I will brief you in detail regarding the facility itself, as well as the command structure therein.”
“How do you plan to get me inside headquarters?” Felicité queried.
“That is the main purpose of my visit with you today, lieutenant. Let me begin by saying that it is an honor to work with you. What you are doing is dangerous but essential to the success of the invasion.”
Her discomfort growing by the moment, Felicité could only think to respond, “Thank you.”
“Lieutenant, we are extremely careful in selecting our agents. We know everything about you since you were a child. Based on what I have learned from your records, I have determined that you are perfect for this assignment.”
“Oh, to what are you referring?”
“Aside from the obvious, such as your time in France when you were a child, there is one instance in your record that stands out.”
“And what might that be?”
“My sources inform me that you spent a weekend at Wharton Manor in June of 1940, and during that weekend you were the lead in an event that involved nudity in front of an entire squadron of airmen. Is that correct?”
&nbs
p; At this Felicité blushed crimson and murmured, “Well, er…,”
“Just answer the question!”
“I suppose there’s no point in denying it,” Felicité retorted.
“Excellent!” Flight Officer Atkins responded cheerfully, thus catching Felicité completely off guard. “The reason that I say that is that your assignment will likely require you to display such talents yet again.”
“Oh, my…” was all that Felicité could think of to reply.
“My second piece of information indicates that you worked at the Windmill Theatre for a short period in 1941. Is that correct?”
“Yes, but…” Felicité interjected.
Raising one hand, Flight Officer Atkins interrupted, “No further details are necessary. In fact, I’m sure I have no interest in hearing them.”
Observing her superior’s stern look of forewarning, Felicité thought it better to maintain her silence.
Seeing the effect of her admonition, Flight Officer Atkins now continued with, “We have intelligence that indicates that there is quite a broad range of sexual activity going on within German Headquarters in Paris. Given your past exploits, that is why we have selected you for this assignment. We believe that with your unique skills you will find a way to penetrate headquarters and acquire the Enigma code.”
Understanding at long last why she had been chosen for such a dangerous assignment, Felicité replied, “Yes, I think I see…”
“Perhaps you do, but just in case I have not made myself clear, let me do so now. Lieutenant, your orders are to use any means at your disposal, including public displays such as your previous ones, and also including any sexual activities that you find expedient, to gain access to the Enigma code in Paris. Do I make myself clear?”
All color now draining from her face, Felicité rejoined, “Yes, I understand completely, Flight Officer Atkins.”
Two Weeks Later
Felicité met Lady Sutherland for lunch. Embracing her gently, she inquired, “What a pleasant surprise, Lady Sutherland. How on earth did you manage to arrange to meet me here in Birmingham? I’ve not been allowed off base in six weeks!”
Grinning broadly, Lady Sutherland responded, “My dear, let’s just say, I have friends in high places,” at which the pair twittered convivially and subsequently lit into their lunch.
Lighter subjects having eventually been dispensed with, Lady Sutherland finally came round to the point of her visit, announcing, “My dear, it should come as no surprise to you when I say that I did not come all this way for the purpose of idle chitchat.”
Now aware that the conversation had turned serious, Felicité replied, “Of course not. Knowing you as I do, I was quite certain you’d get round to it in due course.”
“And so I have, my dear, so I have,” she responded wistfully. The air now having been cleared, she commenced her discourse with, “My dear, I assume you are aware that at one time I had designs on you as a potential match for my son?”
Having anticipated this line of attack, Felicité responded knowingly, “Yes, of course.”
“Well, I’m afraid I must ask you yet a second time – might you still want my son?”
“Well, er…” Felicité stammered.
“My dear, it is quite an easy question. Just answer me, please.”
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I thought so at Christmas. Actually, I was certain then.”
“And what, pray tell, has happened since to change that certainty in any way?”
“Nothing!” Felicité blurted and, calming a bit, she added, “I mean, nothing has happened. Actually, I’ve hardly seen Trant at all since Christmas. Truth to tell, the last time I saw him, he wasn’t very forthcoming, if you get my meaning…”
“In what way?” Lady Sutherland inquired, now clearly in her interrogation mode.
“I don’t know, he was just distant, I suppose,” Felicité replied dejectedly.
“Aha! That’s it!” Lady Sutherland exclaimed, her eyes flashing furiously.
“That’s what?” Felicité responded with obvious alarm.
“What?” Lady Sutherland quipped and, clearly prevaricating, she responded evasively, “Oh, nothing. Tis nothing at all, my dear,” and thenceforth patting Felicité on one hand, she repeated, “Tis nothing. Don’t worry about it at all, my dear.”
“What do you mean – don’t worry about it?” Felicité exclaimed belligerently, “You come all this way for some ulterior motive, and when you find out what you came for, you suggest that I shouldn’t worry about it?”
Rather taken aback by this sudden outburst, Lady Sutherland regrouped herself and, taking Felicité’s hand in hers, she now proffered gently, “My dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you so. But please know that I am in this for the both of you. And I promise you, rather more so for you. Now, I cannot at this point in time relay further suspicions to you, because that is all they are. For the moment, I ask you to be patient, and rest assured that I am working on your behalf.”
At this, all semblance of fortitude having escaped her, Felicité burst into tears, exclaiming forlornly, “I’m sorry, Lady Sutherland, but I’m so afraid! I’m afraid I’ve gotten myself into a terrible mess. And now, Trant seems to have turned his back on me, just when I need him the most.”
“There, there, my dear,” Lady Sutherland responded sympathetically, “I’m sure that Trant is simply putting on his official act at the moment. You know, stiff upper lip, and all that silly nonsense. After all, he must be terribly concerned about your upcoming assignment as well.”
Still staunching a flood of tears, she cried, “So you know about my assignment?”
“Yes, enough to know that it is quite dangerous,” Lady Sutherland responded empathetically, “My dear, I’m so proud of you. I’m quite certain that all of England shall be very proud of you as well. Now, get on with it, as they say.”
“Well,” Felicité responded and, now simultaneously laughing and crying, she put in, “I expect I shall, for it seems I have no choice in the matter.”
“Yes, well, one could say that, but if you go forward with the resolve that I have so often observed in you, I am quite certain that you shall win out in the end,” Lady Sutherland responded sympathetically.
Having now dried her tears, Felicité responded, “I shall do my best, Lady Sutherland.”
“There is one other thing,” Lady Sutherland murmured diffidently.
“And what might that be?”
“Well, it has to do with the party, the birthday party in the summer of 1940.”
“Bloody hell, not that again!” Felicité exclaimed.
“I know, my dear, it is painful for you, I’m sure, but please, play along with me. This is quite important.”
“I’m listening,” Felicité replied noncommittally.
“Tis just that, well, certain inconsistencies have recently come to my attention,” Lady Sutherland proffered carefully.
“Inconsistencies? What sort of inconsistencies?” Felicité murmured blankly.
“Well, for instance, what happened to your feline mask that night, Felicité?”
“What! Nothing! Nothing at all, I carried it up to my room after the event, as you so aptly termed it.”
“I see,” Lady Sutherland responded and, searching for the right words, she abruptly inquired, “Was there anything unusual that occurred from your perspective, Felicité?”
“I don’t understand,” Felicité responded, “What do you mean by unusual, Lady Sutherland?”
“Well, I happen to have run into Maryann recently, and she tells me that the two of you refused to do the event.”
“Oh that,” Felicité replied, “Of course, she’s right. We did, at first. But then, we changed our minds and we did indeed join in. After all, you observed me on the stage.”
“And where was Maryann at the time?”
“She was playing the piano, as you well know,” Felicité responded morosely,
“I say, where is this leading to? Can’t we just let bygones be bygones? If you must know, the memory of it is terribly painful for me.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Lady Sutherland offered and, patting Felicité’s hand, she suggested, “You just put it behind you, Felicité. I apologize for bringing it up to you.”
“Thank you,” Felicité replied, now staring away into space. “Now, I’m afraid I must be getting back to work. Must keep the French General happy, and all that.”
“Alright then, Goodbye Felicité,” Lady Sutherland responded, at which Felicité made her exit.
In the Air over France – May, 1943
Felicité was uncertain whether it was the piercing noise or the fear of jumping out of the plane that terrified her more, but in any case, the sound of the air rushing through the open door of the aircraft fuselage was deafening and, regardless of the source of her fears, the moment of no return was rapidly approaching. Trant now embraced her gently, exclaiming in her ear, “You look like a real trooper all trussed up in that parachute, lieutenant.”
“Thank you, sir,” she responded. “I’m afraid I don’t feel like one at the moment.”
“Be sure to flex your knees just before impact, and roll when you hit the ground. Everything will be just fine. And send us a message when you are in the hands of the resistance.”
“Yes, sir, will do.”
“Now, tis time, lieutenant. The jump master will clip you onto the cable and see you out the door. God speed, my dear Felicité.”
“Thank you, sir,” she responded, and suddenly throwing caution to the wind, she reached up and pulled him to her, kissing him passionately. Then she released him, turned and headed aft. She stopped and turned back to him one last time, saying, “Thank you for coming, sir. It means a lot to me,” and at this she disappeared through the aircraft door.
Moments later Felicité struck the ground hard, but she was thankfully unhurt, her parachute having performed its intended purpose perfectly. Since there was little breeze on this night, she had no difficulty releasing her chute and gathering it into a heap. By the time she had completed this task the resistance fighters were coming at her from the surrounding woods. It appeared that the plan had been a success, as there were no Germans to be seen or heard at all.
Within moments she could see Jean Moulin trotting towards her. As he approached, he called to her in French, “Are you injured?”
“No. I believe that I am unharmed,” she responded in her native language. After thirteen years away, she was back in the country of her youth. She would learn all too soon that it bore little resemblance to the country she had lived in for ten years.
The Following Day
Annabeth picked up the receiver, saying, “Annabeth Fletcher speaking. Who is calling, please?”
“Annabeth, tis I, Trant,” the voice on the other end responded.
“Trant! How nice to hear your voice, dear. To what do I owe this unexpected call?”
“Tis not good news, my dear.”
“Oh?” she responded in sudden fearfulness, “Please don’t tell me that someone else has perished.”
“No, tis nothing as horrendous as that, but it is nonetheless quite bad enough. I’m afraid we’re going to have to postpone our celebratory tryst. My leave has been cancelled, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, that IS bad news, Trant! Are you at liberty to divulge as to the reason?”
“I’m afraid not. Tis top secret. All I can say is – it may in fact be some time before this particular assignment is sorted out. In the meantime, keep your chin up, dear. I shall be in touch.”
“Yes, of course. Hugs, my dear. Talk to you soon!”
“You, too,” and with that he rang off.
Glaring at the receiver in frustration, she grumbled, “Bollocks! I wonder what that was all about.”
Chartres - Three Days Later
Felicité discovered that Jean Moulin had developed an extensive network in France, and he had used it to slip through the web of German military check points along the way. They had thus arrived without incident in Chartres, where Felicité was assigned for the present to assist members of the resistance in constructing a plan for penetrating the German network for encrypting messages in France. It was determined that for the time being Felicité should remain in Chartres, where the plan would be completed and then submitted through her handler for approval by the Allies in London. Felicité therefore spent the next three months building up her understanding of the resistance in France.
Unfortunately, the Germans penetrated the French Resistance quite successfully in the summer of 1943. More than a hundred other ranking members of the resistance were captured. Jean Moulin was among them. He was captured and tortured to death in July. Some said that he was killed by the infamous Klaus Barbie.
Events that summer were a major setback for the resistance. Thus, in order to maintain security, plans for the acquisition of the German Enigma code in France were delayed indefinitely. A plan was nevertheless eventually completed and forwarded to London, two additional months passing before it was approved. Finally, word came in October that the plan had been approved, with the first phase to be initiated immediately.
Felicité was the centerpiece of the plan, one that required a team of ultra-secret resistance fighters to place her in Paris under an assumed name. Dying her hair black and disguising herself as best she could, Felicité was given forged papers with the assumed name Martine Peletier. She was then transported to Paris by the resistance.
London – October, 1943
Arriving at the restaurant, Trant came forward, a convivial smile spreading slowly across his face. Once by her side, he leaned down and, kissing her cheek, he said, “Mother, so good of you to come. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
“I needed to see my son, of course. Can one fault me for that?” she responded airily, “Please, have a seat, Trant. We haven’t much time, and I’m in desperate need of a first rate meal.”
Somewhat surprised by her acerbic demeanor, Trant offered, “Of course, mother.”
“What with the war and all, one can hardly find an acceptable meal these days,” she lamented, for some reason avoiding the underlying cause for her journey to London today.
Accordingly, the two shared a pleasant lunch together, the talk wandering aimlessly from one insignificant subject to another, but eventually Lady Sutherland got round to the crux of their rendezvous, murmuring with feigned offhandedness, “So, your father tells me you’ve been seeing that Fletcher girl, what’s her name?”
“Annabeth,” Trant responded tiredly and, totally unsurprised by his mother’s probing, he added, “And, yes, I’ve been seeing her.”
“I see,” she prevaricated, “And how long has this been going on, pray tell?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied, then suddenly recalling, he proffered, “Wait a minute, I believe I do recall. It was last winter, the King’s birthday party. I ran into her there. Yes, of course, I began seeing her shortly thereafter.”
“Is it serious?” Lady Sutherland now inquired pointedly.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he responded evasively.
“I see,” she murmured, but then she added probingly, “What about Felicité?”
At this, his eyes flashing, he exclaimed, “Look here, mother, this is none of your affair. Who can say whether we shall lay eyes upon Lieutenant Delacroix ever again. Besides, I never considered her seriously.”
“My, that is indeed evasive,” she observed, her eyes downcast in embarrassment. “I agree, Trant – tis none of my business. But perhaps you will afford me the opportunity to ask a few questions. After all, it is a mother’s right, is it not?”
“Yes, of course,” Trant replied in apparent resignation, “What would you like to know, mother?”
“Oh, nothing important, I suppose,” she murmured hesitantly, “What is she like, Trant?”
“What do yo
u mean, what is she like?” he exclaimed absurdly.
“Well, I’ve not met her, you see,” she rejoined.
“But of course you’ve met her, mother!”
“What! Annabeth? I have? On what occasion, pray tell,” she queried in confusion.
“She was one of the young ladies at my birthday party in the summer of 1940,” he said suspiciously, adding, “Surely you already knew that!”
Appearing hurt, she denied, “Oh, my, Trant, I had no idea!” and then, glancing downward in embarrassment, she asked, “Which one was she, then?”
“She was the one in the blue gown.”
“Blue gown?”
“Come now, mother, surely you recall all of them. She was quite the most beautiful of all of the young ladies, and quite elegant too, if you ask me.”
“Oh, I see. Perhaps I do recall whom you are speaking of,” she responded doubtfully, “Ah, yes, I believe I do. Didn’t I in fact see you speaking with her at some point during the evening?”
“Yes, mother, you most certainly did,” he responded wearily, “I in fact spoke with all of the young ladies at one point or other.”
“Ah, I see,” she replied distantly and, as if she were recalling events of that evening, she asked, “And how did you find her to be that night?”
“To be honest, I found her to be quite engaging,” he replied brusquely and, apparently desperate to end this line of discussion as expediently as possible, he added, “I even suggested that I should call on her at some point.”
“And did you?” she interjected immediately.
“No, of course not,” he denied, “I was wrapped up in the war, as you well know. It wasn’t until I accidentally bumped into her at the King’s birthday party…”
“Ah, yes, of course,” she observed, “Well, I’m sure you know what you’re doing, so I shan’t interfere with your private affairs.”
Obviously relieved to be finished with his mother’s meddling, he murmured dismissively, “Right.”
Shortly thereafter the pair said their goodbyes, Trant nonetheless out of sorts due to his mother’s rather invasive behavior.
The Following Week
Trant met her at a pub in the West End and, supplying a brief but distant embrace, he said, “So good to see you, Annabeth.”
Smiling tentatively, she responded, “And you as well.”
Feeling discomforted in her presence, he blurted, “So what was it you wanted to see me about?”
“Oh, nothing in particular,” she put in, “I just wanted to see your face.”
“And here I am, at your command,” he rejoined.
“So, what have you been up to that has kept us apart?” she inquired.
“Oh, I’ve been supporting intelligence operations. It’s quite taxing, you know.”
“What sort of intelligence work?”
“Actually, I’ve been doing some undercover work with the French underground.”
“Kudos to you, Trant. But what sort of undercover work?”
“Well, you recall Felicité Delacroix, I assume. It has to do with her.”
“Oh? What is she up to, then?”
“Well, I really can’t say. Top secret, you know.”
“I see,” she murmured, “So you’ve been working with her.”
“Actually, I’ve had little direct contact with her. She’s on assignment elsewhere now.”
“I trust she is not in harm’s way,” Annabeth offered.
“Right, well, I’m not at liberty to say.”
Seeing that he was not forthcoming, she changed the subject, inquiring, “And how is your mother?”
“Oh, she’s doing quite well. What with the war and all, she manages to keep quite busy snooping about all the time.”
“Oh? Has she asked about us?”
“Well, since you asked – yes, she has, Annabeth.”
“What was it about?”
“Oh, I suppose she is just doing her matronly duty. You know, making sure that we are suited for one another.”
“And are we?”
At this Trant blushed in embarrassment and blurted, “Well, er, I’m not certain, Annabeth. The truth is, perhaps I proposed to you prematurely.”
“Oh, my. I’m sorry to hear that, Trant. Is it anything I did?”
“Oh, no, perish thought, dear Annabeth. You are the very picture of any man’s desire.”
At this she responded, “Well then, what seems to be the problem?”
“Right, I suppose it’s the war and all. I am confounded by the tempestuous times.”
“That is quite understandable, Trant. But surely there is more to your reticence than that.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t be concerned if I were you, Annabeth,” he fibbed, “I’m simply distracted by the war. When this is all over, I should think that I will be more attentive. Tis quite impossible to pursue one’s own desires when one’s friends are dying all about.”
“I see,” she murmured, “It is all so distressing. Well, I suppose for the moment we must all soldier on. But I shall hold you to your proposal when the war is finally over.”
“I say, that’s quite sporting of you, Annabeth. And for my part, I am most awfully sorry if I’ve caused you pain,” he offered.
Nonetheless hurt by his admission, she responded, “All’s fair in love and war, as they say.”
Paris – December, 1943
Felicité was shocked at the horrendous change in the city of her youth. Paris had changed from the city of light to the city of drab. All was grey, everywhere she visited. Not only was grey the look of the city, it was also reflected in the eyes of the inhabitants. There seemed to be no flicker of life anywhere at all. Indeed, though it still contained some two million inhabitants, much of the time the city appeared to be nearly deserted.
On her third night in Paris, Felicité was summoned by the resistance to a meeting at an apartment in the sixth arrondisement. On her way there, she noticed that the Jardin du Luxembourg, which had always been filled with French citizens in her youth, was empty but for a half dozen German soldiers.
Finding the address given to her, Felicité climbed four flights of stairs and knocked on the apartment door. Once inside the smoke filled room, she was introduced to several freedom fighters, all of whom were men. Alain Lesieutre introduced himself as the head of the ultra-secret resistance group in Paris, subsequently announcing what everyone in the room already knew, “Lieutenant Delacroix has come from England to help us penetrate the German Command in Paris. Her objective, and we are to support her in this endeavor, is to gain sufficient information for us to break the German’s Enigma code in Paris.” At this pronouncement he turned to Felicité and said, “Welcome, lieutenant. I might even say, welcome home.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lesieutre,” she replied. “The first order of business is to get me into German Headquarters. My understanding is that you have connections that can get me in direct contact with members of the Wehrmacht here in Paris. Is that correct?”
Alain glanced around the room, and thereby assured of confidentiality, he announced, “We are given to understand that you are a competent singer. Is that correct, lieutenant?”
“Yes, I studied voice as a school girl in Paris, and thereafter at Queen’s College in Oxford.”
“We have arranged for you to join the show at the Moulin Rouge as a singer, lieutenant.”
“The Moulin Rouge! I thought that it closed down when Paris was taken by the Germans,” she responded.
“It is indeed shut down. However, for the moment it serves the German military exclusively.”
“And is the show as always?”
“Yes, it is, lieutenant, except that there are performances only on one or two nights a week.”
“So will I be expected to perform en déshabillé?”
“I’m afraid so, lieutenant,” Alain responded matter-of-factly.
“Hmmm, it seems that I shall be the first officer in the Br
itish Army assigned to perform in her knickers in Paris for the German Wehrmacht.”
At this the room erupted in uneasy laughter, at which Alain volunteered, “As they say, lieutenant, all things are fair in love and war.”
Paris – Three weeks later
Felicité gave her first performance at the Moulin Rouge. Decked out in a flowing red evening gown that had been expertly designed so that it was cut to the waist in front, she sang a solo rendition of ‘Lili Marleen’ before a packed house of German soldiers and dignitaries. The effect was immediate and exactly as anticipated by the resistance plan. She was invited to a table of German officers directly after her number, whereupon she was introduced to General Horstmüller, who was the ranking officer in the German Wehrmacht in Paris.
General Horstmüller rose from his seat, announcing, “Ah, here she is, gentlemen. Miss Martine Pelletier, may I introduce my staff at German Headquarters,” and at this admission he bowed perfunctorily, thereby exacting a closeup view of her exquisite jewels.
Felicité curtsied so as to improve the examination that the general seemed so intent upon and responded demurely, “It is a pleasure, mon generale.”
“Please join us, if you will,” the general offered, pointing to the seat adjacent to his own, his eyes continuing to bulge in evident appreciation. He then inquired gruffly, “Where did you learn to sing like that?”
“I was trained in voice at the Sorbonne, where I also studied German language, mon generale,” she responded in perfect German.
“Do you know ‘Die Horst Wessel’?” he queried doubtfully.
“Why yes, of course, mon generale,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“Please, stand up,” he ordered, at which she rose without hesitation. “Please, if you will, step up on the table and lead us in ‘Die Horst Wessel’.” At this, Felicité took his proffered hand and stepped up onto the table. The entire contingent of German Officers in the Moulin Rouge immediately rose and stood to attention and, following Felicité’s lead, the room burst forth in song.
From that point things moved rather quickly so that, by the end of the evening it was clear to everyone that Felicité had become the general’s personal ‘possession’. During the course of the next several weeks she sang within the club on multiple occasions.
As anticipated, she was by now living with General Horstmüller at his sumptuous apartment overlooking the Seine. Each weekend she entertained the German troops, afterwards retiring to the general’s apartment. The general had an extraordinary sexual appetite and, having become his personal property, Felicité was expected to fulfill his craving in any way that he saw fit.
General Horstmüller seemed to be delighted most of all when Felicité feigned resistance to his ministrations, whatever they might be. It was not long before she realized that this could well be the means whereby she could gain access to German Headquarters.
Paris – April, 1944
Felicité met with Alain Lesieutre on a cold grey morning in an abandoned apartment in the Marais, near the spot where Henry IV had been assassinated more than three hundred years earlier. She explained General Horstmüller’s devious appetite, saying, “He seems to be sexually insecure. I believe that this proclivity could be used to gain access by me to German Headquarters.”
“What exactly do you have in mind?’ he queried.
“I shall manipulate him such that he will command me to put on a risqué show at German Headquarters. The show will give him the opportunity to demonstrate to his subordinates just how omnipotent he is with his personal possessions.”
At this he stared at her incredulously and blurted, “Do you honestly believe that you could actually get everyone at headquarters out of the way long enough for us to steal the Enigma code?”
“Yes, I do. In keeping with the general’s penchant for excess, he will expect absolutely everyone within German Headquarters to attend so that he can display his personal possession to them.”
“How long do you think you can hold their attention?”
“At least fifteen minutes,” she responded self-assuredly.
“Lieutenant, if you can keep the staff at Headquarters occupied for fifteen minutes, we can steal the code. We know where everything is in that building. After all, it used to be a hotel run by Parisians.”
“Right, I shall contact my handler in London to obtain approval for the plan. We should be able to do this in late May. I will let you know what they say.”
“Yes, I have it, lieutenant.”
Felicité departed moments later, pondering exactly what she would have to do to keep the entire staff of German Headquarters entranced for an endless quarter of an hour. Aware that her very life depended on it, she understood full well that she would have to be willing to go to any lengths whatsoever to clear the building for the requisite amount of time. The thought absolutely terrified her.
The Following Evening
Felicité had learned to recognize when General Horstmüller arrived at the apartment in one of his particularly sadistic moods. This was one of those times. Apparently he had been forced to deal with an unpleasant situation at headquarters in a way that was less than satisfying to him. By now accustomed to his bizarre moods, Felicité was unsurprised when after a couple of stiff drinks he unleashed one of his vulgar amusements upon her. Taking advantage of her by now complete understanding of his psychological shortcomings, she summarily convinced him to put on the requisite show, and she of course would be the headliner.
“I shall arrange it immediately,” he commanded, proud that he would have the opportunity to display his most prized possession, “We shall hold it at the Moulin Rouge.”
She had already planned how she would react if he suggested the Moulin Rouge, thus she quickly responded, “Yes, that would be much better than headquarters. The crowd will be small, and they will not be surprised. Besides, I would be far too embarrassed to perform for a large crowd. Oh, thank you, mon generale!”
“What? Why?”
“If it were held at headquarters, then surely the entire staff would turn out, thinking it to be an important military meeting. If it were held there it would also be a grand surprise. The officers would all go wild with excitement! I would be so embarrassed! I don’t think that I could possibly do it if it were held at headquarters.”
At this response the general puffed up and exclaimed brusquely, “I’ve changed my mind. It will be held at German Headquarters!”
“Oh, no, mon generale!”
At this he slapped her, spat on her, and roared, “Shut up, you little dog!”
Now seriously frightened, she fell silent. He glared at her for a moment and said, “For your insolence, I will expect you to give the performance of a lifetime. If you do not, I shall have you shot! Do you hear me?”
“Yes, mon generale. I promise, I shall make you proud of me!” she whimpered.
“The show will be in three weeks’ time.”
Now weeping visibly, she begged, “Mon generale, may I request a bit more time to plan for the show? If you will be so kind as to let me see the auditorium in the Hotel Meurice, I shall be able to inform you as to how long it will take for me to prepare for my performance. Does that meet your approval?”
His compulsive need for absolute control now sated, he replied dismissively, “Yes, my little poodle.”
The Following Morning
Felicité accompanied General Horstmüller to headquarters. Arriving in the hotel lobby, she exclaimed, “Oh, it is quite gorgeous, mon generale! Where is the auditorium?”
“Come with me. I shall show you,” he replied in evident pride. They walked down a hallway and came to a door, whereupon he beckoned her to enter. She stepped inside the auditorium and, immediately putting her hands to her face, she exclaimed, “Oh, thank you, mon generale, it is perfect. I shall be the talk of Paris! The stage is lovely, and the setting is just perfect!”
“Yes, I thought you would lik
e it,” he responded pleasantly.
Kissing him on the cheek, she responded, “Now, please show me where I can change into my costume for the show, mon generale.”
The Following Day
Felicité received an encoded message from Trant. The message approved the plan, but it stipulated two changes. First, for reasons that she did not understand the show must at all costs be held on either June 3rd or 4th. Second, the plan should also include a disturbance at German Headquarters, perhaps even an attack if that could be arranged.
At this development Felicité immediately arranged to meet with Alain Lesieutre the following morning. She thought about this last command for the remainder of the day, and by the time she met with him she had concocted a plan in her mind. When she told him of London’s requirements, she suggested that if he could plan to the minute, they might be able to actually bomb German Headquarters.
“What!” he thundered incredulously.
“You said that you know that building,” she responded accusingly. “If you really do know that building, then surely you can have your resistance fighters plant a bomb beneath the auditorium. And if you can time the bomb accurately, then you can first steal the Enigma code, and then set off the bomb while the German leadership in Paris is still gathered within the auditorium. It will provide the perfect cover for our escape.”
“But what about you! You will be blown up as well!”
“Let’s plan it down to the finest detail,” she suggested, “And if we time everything just right, perhaps I can step from the stage just before the bomb goes off, and in the subsequent confusion I can escape into the underground tunnels.”
Eyeing her doubtfully, he nonetheless replied, “Alright, I will see what I can do, lieutenant. Just exactly why are the dates so important?”
“I have an idea why, but I’m not certain, so I’d rather not say. Anyway, let’s set it for June 3.”
“Right. I shall begin planning on my end. You get to work on the show and let me know when you need to meet with me again.”
“Bon,” she replied, and at this she rose to leave.
That Evening
Felicité was prepared the moment General Horstmüller entered the door to the apartment. Offering him a kiss on the cheek, she said, “Good evening, mon generale.” She subsequently handed him a glass of his favorite scotch, inquiring, “May we talk for a moment?”
Patting her on the head exactly as he would a small dog, he replied, “Of course, my little poodle.”
“Mon generale, it seems that my costume will not be prepared within three weeks. Could we possibly stretch the date for the show to four weeks?”
“How could your costume be that important?” he queried impatiently.
“When you see it, you will understand why, mon generale. You have commanded me under threat of death to give the performance of a lifetime, and in order for me to do so, it is essential that my costume be absolutely perfect. I fear that you will have me shot if my performance is not up to your expectations.”
“Come here, my little poodle,” he said, at which she came and sat at his feet. He then announced, “You needn’t worry, my pet. I could never have you shot. I just said that to terrify you. I’m sorry. We shall move it one week further, to the night of June 3. But it can be no later than that. Do you understand?”
“Yes, mon generale,” and at this she crawled into his lap and hugged him tightly, murmuring, “I am so sorry that I fought you over the show. I shall make you so proud of me. You shall see. Perhaps you could serve drinks with the intention of toasting the Führer. And as soon as the men have had their drinks, I shall appear onstage and make you very proud. I promise.”
“I am quite certain that you will delight them all.”
“Oh, I almost forgot, there is one other thing, mon generale, may we have music? I need music so that I can dance for the men!”
Patting her affectionately on the head once again, he replied, “Yes, of course, my little poodle.”
The Following Day
Felicité met Alain and the plans were laid for his men to break in and steal the Enigma code during her performance. Additional plans were made for the French underground to stage an attack on headquarters as a diversionary measure if Lesieutre and his men were found out before they had time to escape. Finally, plans were made for the emplacement of a large bomb beneath the auditorium.
Rather than utilize an untrustworthy timer, it was determined that a resistance fighter from Alsace who spoke perfect German would infiltrate the hotel that night disguised as a German soldier, and he would ensure that the bomb was not set off until Felicité was safely away from the auditorium. He would subsequently also aide Felicité in her escape. By the end of May all was planned down to the last detail.
At her final meeting with Alain before the show they went over last minute details one last time. Alain queried once again, “If you please, outline for me once more what your expectations are for the timing, lieutenant.”
“Right,” Felicité responded, “As we know, the success of this plan hinges on how well I can hold the attention of everyone at headquarters for the period of time that you will need to steal the code. It will take me approximately twenty minutes to create an atmosphere of complete depravity. I intend by my performance to cause quite a stir, thus inducing the audience to make a great deal of noise. I am confident that by that time the sheer reverberation within the auditorium will attract literally everyone within the building to my show. Thereafter, I should be able to hold their complete attention for fifteen minutes, but no more than that. Will that be enough time, monsieur?”
“Yes, that should be enough time. We already know exactly which room the Enigma machine is stored within, so it should take only a few minutes to remove it. So what time should we enter the building?”
“I’m thinking…you should time your entrance for 9:20, not a minute sooner.”
“Excellent, we shall arrive within at exactly 9:20, lieutenant. Good luck.”
Paris – June 3, 1944
Felicité sat nervously awaiting as the general’s vehicle slowed to a halt in front of German Headquarters. As she had hoped, they had arrived at precisely eight P.M. He stepped out, followed by Felicité. In keeping with her status as the general’s plaything, she was extravagantly accoutered in a full length fur coat. Several soldiers had already arrived, and at her appearance they halted in midstride, gaping in admiration at the general’s gorgeous possession.
The pair proceeded through the revolving hotel doors into headquarters, Felicité nervously making her way toward her dressing room, where she hurriedly prepared for the show.
A half hour later the auditorium was packed with four hundred boisterous and half intoxicated officers, each and every one of them wondering what had caused the necessity for such an extraordinarily large staff meeting accompanied by alcoholic beverages. At that moment the lights were extinguished and the crowd hushed. A spotlight suddenly illuminated the curtains at the far left end of the stage, an all-encompassing voice commanding, “Ächtung!”
The entire audience rose as one to attention and, appearing on the platform, General Horstmüller stepped self-assuredly within the illuminated circle of light. The general paused a moment for effect, then exclaimed, “Heil, Hitler!” simultaneously giving the Nazi salute. The audience followed suit, at which the general continued, exclaiming, “Please, be seated. Now, I know that you are all wondering why I’ve asked you here tonight. Because of the admirable reports that the Führer has received regarding the performance of the Wehrmacht in France, he has given me leave to award you all a little bit of rest and relaxation. Thus, tonight I am most happy to present to you my personal possession, Martine, the French poodle!”
At this announcement Felicité marched ostentatiously onto the stage decked out in a bogus uniform of a German officer. Incongruously, she was wearing a black mask adorned with feline ears, together with
a German Wehrmacht hat and a pair of shiny ebony campaign boots. She snapped to attention and, saluting the general Nazi style, she subsequently turned and bent down with her posterior pointed at him in a mock gesture of offense. At the implication that he should kiss her behind, the crowd broke into raucous laughter and applause.
Felicité straightened and, turning to face the audience, she raised one arm in the air in mock triumph. The general said, “Men, as you can all see, I am afraid I’m outnumbered up here. What do you say, would you like to see more of Martine?” At this pronouncement the crowd broke into wild applause, prompting the general to add, “Martine, show them what you’ve got!” and at this point he stepped from the stage. As he did so, the curtains rose, exposing a back drop that looked curiously like a dungeon.
Felicité strutted to the middle of the stage, turned to face the audience, and saluted the troops. But before the crowd could react, she reached down, yanked with apparent determination on her uniform, and jerked it in one rapid motion entirely from her body. Beneath she wore a bawdy black outfit composed of a bustier, stockings that protruded from her boots, a garter belt, elbow length black gloves, and knickers. The effect was immediate and electrifying, the entire audience bounding as one to their feet and roaring their collective approval.
Felicité was already well on her way to accomplishing her mission, the riotous noise having begun to attract those few soldiers within the building who were not already in attendance. Booming music suddenly commenced, lending a vulgar atmosphere to her performance, and Felicité then proceeded to drive the crowd wild with a seductive show that required exactly twenty minutes for her to bring the crowd to the perfect pitch. By the time she had shed the majority of her attire, every single soldier within the building had left his post and joined in the excitement.
Felicité then proceeded to hold the audience’s rapt attention for a further fifteen minutes as she both sang and strutted to and fro onstage, performing lascivious moves that drove the audience wild with excitement. In order to ensure preservation of absolutely everyone’s attention, at selected intervals she threatened to remove her mask, and then halting, she raised one hand to her ear as if to imply, “If you want to see my gorgeous face, please applaud forcefully,” thereby driving the troops into a raucous frenzy of hormone-laden depravity. Felicité’s timing was exactly as she had predicted to Alain, as not a soul made so much as the tiniest feint towards the exits.
The show reached its penultimate moment when Felicité, on completing her rendition of the earthy hit ‘Lili Marlene’, coyly removed her mask, to the accompaniment of a thunderous standing ovation. The show now having come to an end, she subsequently bowed several times in response to the riotous applause, at which point the general returned to the stage and exclaimed sonorously above the still erupting pandemonium, “How about that for rest and relaxation, men?”
The troops once again roared their approval of the general’s selection for the evening, at which the general announced, “Just so no one will get any ideas, Martine is entirely my personal property! Anyone caught with their hand in the cookie jar will have it removed!” at which the crowd guffawed in guttural unison. The general then grinned salaciously at the audience and, turning towards Felicité, he whispered in her ear, “Oh, how I am going to love toying with my little French poodle tonight!”
In response, she kissed him on the cheek, at which he for his part gently faced her towards stage left and, swatting her loudly on her behind, he bellowed for the audience to hear, “Now, go back to your cage, my little French poodle!” At which the audience screamed with further delight. Feigning pain at his wallop, Felicité grasped her bare flanks and pranced obediently from the stage.
General Horstmüller now turned back towards the audience, announcing, “As you can doubtless deduce from the show tonight, the Führer is quite proud of all of you. Now, I invite you to rise and sing ‘Die Horst Wessel’ along with me!” All present rose and joined in singing.
Midway through the anthem an enormous explosion ripped through the Hotel Meurice, wreaking death and devastation on German Headquarters. By then Felicité had escaped down a hallway and disappeared into a basement of the hotel, whereupon she entered into the Paris sewers and made her way to safety.