Authors note:
This is not a TG story even though there is a scene where it is suggested that the main character does pose as a woman. I wrote it as a backstory to the Vivienne/Delphine character in ‘Sixty is not that old’ story. Vivienne changes her name to Delphine. This is the story of how Vivienne’s grandmother met her future husband.
The steady drone of the RAF Lancaster's four Rolls Royce Merlin engines kept Sgt Harry Wells company as he peered out of his 'Tail-end Charlie's turret into the almost pitch-black sky.
Occasionally the moon would breakthrough, and he’d see a few of the several hundred other Lancaster Bombers making the long slow journey from their bases in eastern England to tonight’s target, the munitions and vehicle factories in Munich.
Tonight was Harry’s 21st mission. Tomorrow, he'd be off on leave for a whole month. Then it was back again for a tour of duty at a training Squadron. This was his reward for lasting twice as long as was reasonably expected for Aircrew in Bomber Command and four times as long as Rear Gunners are expected to last on Lancaster’s.
It was January 1944. The Allies were now giving the Germans a dose of their own medicine, day and night. Everyone, knew that every ton of bombs dropped on the enemy could mean one less casualty when finally, the Allies invaded France, Belgium or wherever.
Because this was his last sortie before his leave, Harry was particularly nervous. It was regarded as ‘bad form’ to even mention the ‘last sortie’ in the Sergeants Mess. Far too many of those who did that failed to return. This made it a real ‘last sortie’ often ending in death for the entire crew of that plane. No one wanted to risk triggering the hoodoo.
In addition to this being his last sortie, the last time they'd ventured this far into Germany the FW190's had a field day. That night, six of the Lancaster’s that took off from RAF Bruntingthorpe[1] had bought it on the return trip.
Harry had played his part in defending the squadron. He’d shot down two FW190’s and had been put up for a gong[2] for just doing his job. He just felt happy, to still be alive. They could keep his gong just let him see out the war in one piece. Then he could return to his peacetime trade, the making hats in Luton.
Harry was a master milliner. He’d make many of the hats that women wore for events like Royal Ascot, Henley and the Derby as well as investitures at the Palace. He was the sixth generation milliner in his family but had joined up the day war broke out in 1939.
His little night-dream was then rudely interrupted by the intercom burst.
“Pilot to crew. Five minutes to target. Stand-by. Acknowledge.”
When this command was sent out, every member of the crew had to report their readiness back to the skipper. As was the custom in Lt Parsons crew was that the rear gunner was first to respond. It was all part of making him feel a bit more important in the crew. There was no ‘tail-end Charlie’ syndrome in this crew.
“Rear Gunner ready”, said Harry.
He listened as the rest of the crew called in their status. The last one to reply was the bomb aimer. His work would be to direct the pilot when they came over the target.
When everyone had reported in, Lt Parsons came back on the horn.
“Good luck everyone. The Pathfinders have lit up the target. We are in the first wave tonight.”
That bit of news cheered Harry up no end. The FW190's that roamed the skies, targeted the last wave of bombers, as well as the aircraft that had taken flak hits over the target.
Speaking of ‘flak’, there were now shells bursting all around the aircraft but thankfully about a thousand feet below their current height.
A minute or so later Lt Parsons came on the horn again.
“Bomb doors open. Jimmo it’s all yours, do your job. Hit them right on the nose.”
Jimmo was Flight Sergeant Jimmy James. He was the real comic in 143 Squadron.
Harry's heart sped up. They'd be some 5 tons lighter once the bombs had been dropped. The lumbering giant of a plane, would be a lot faster and far less prone to blowing up when attacked by the inevitable FW190 or the occasional ME110.
He listened in to the instructions being given to the pilot by the bomb aimer.
“Left a bit.”
“Right a bit.”
“Right a bit more’”
“Steady.”
“Steady.”
Not a second too soon in Harry’s opinion, he heard the words.
“Bombs away.”
He heard the rattle from the release machinery as the bombs left the plane and headed earthwards.
The bomb release mechanism soon fell silent. The noise level in the rear turret decreased as the bomb bay doors were closed.
“All gone skipper. Lets’ go home,” said the bomb aimer,
"Our work for the night is done."
The bright glow from below told him that something was taking a pasting. He didn’t feel sorry for those below. He’d lost two of his three sisters in September 1940 when the Germans had bombed the Vauxhall car plant in Luton.
“We are on our way home chaps. Gunners, keep your eyes peeled for those fighters. The clouds are clearing and the Moon is going to be a problem on our trip home,” said Lt Parsons a he felt the aircraft, “PB105, Nellie M” banking to port.
Harry sharpened his lookout. This was the time that the danger of being downed by flak reduced but the danger from night-fighters increased exponentially.
Nearly 40 minutes later the first attack came in. Harry saw a flash out of the corner of one eye.
Less than a second later, Lt Parsons alerted the crew.
“Fighters about. Tango Juliet reports at least five FW190's and a couple of Messerschmidt 110's stooging around at Angels 18.”
Harry peered upwards and towards the brightening moon.
Before he’d even focussed his eyes, he felt the whole airframe shudder. He knew the feeling only too well. They’d been hit. He had no idea how bad it was, but he knew that Lancasters were sturdy old beasts.
“FW190’s 10 o’clock high coming past you, Harry," buzzed a voice in his intercom.
That was Charlie Smith in the front turret.
Harry swivelled the turret to the right and raised the guns.
Less than two seconds later, he caught the outline of an aircraft silhouetted against the moonlight that was being diffused by some thin cloud. As the shape had less than four Engines, he pressed the firing button.
The airframe shuddered once more. This time due to the firing of the upper mid and rear turret quadruple Browning Machine Guns.
Flames appeared from the fighter, and it started to fall from the sky.
There was a lull in the fighter activity for nearly an hour. The heavy bomber continued upon its course back to Blighty.
Their route home had been planned to avoid flying northwest from Munch as this would take them over Frankfurt plus Koln or the Rhur. They were not nice places for any Allied aircraft to fly. Their path took them much further south. They skirted north of Stuttgart. That was another flak hot-spot and headed towards the French border. Strasbourg was a major target. They'd attacked the city twice before Christmas as it was a major crossing point of the Rhine.
The crew believed a sigh of relief when they saw the mighty river Rhine reflecting in the moonlight. All the major flak zones were now behind them apart from Hitler’s ring of steel along the English Channel.
Their joy was short-lived. Very short-lived indeed.
Without any warning, a blast of gunfire strafed the length of the fuselage. Harry felt the nose of the Lancaster start to drop. He smelt burning.
A weak voice came over the intercom.
“Bale out. Bale out. We’re done for”.
Harry didn't wait to be told. He rotated the turret to allow him to exit the aircraft. Halfway through the rotation, the turret stopped rotating.
Harry knew in an instant that the hydraulic pressure had gone.
Harry quickly grabbed the twin handles of the manual turret rotator and started to frantically turn them.
Inch by inch, the turret turned to expose the escape panel.
By now, the plane was descending quite rapidly.
As he opened the hatch, he briefly wondered if anyone else had already baled out.
Harry undid his harness and rolled out of the now stricken bomber.
As he tumbled earthwards, he saw the former “Nellie M" explode.
With a slightly sad heart, he pulled the ripcord and prayed that his parachute would open.
Harry felt hugely relieved as the white silk canopy billowed out above him and slowed his descent towards the solid earth.
Getting out of the aircraft was the easy part. Like most aircrew, he’d never baled out or used a parachute before. He’d heard many, many horror stories about the broken legs, arms and other frankly horrendous injuries that many aircrew sustained when making parachute landings in the dark.
Harry searched below for any sign that the ground was close.
It was but he didn’t know it. The moonlight of earlier was long gone. The ground below him was obscured by a layer of mist and fog.
With only a moment's warning, he hit the ground. Well, not quite the ground but the roof of a building. It collapsed under his weight, and Harry fell inside.
The cords on the parachute did nothing to stop his fall. He hit something that was both soft and hard at the same time. Then, he passed out.
[three days later]
Harry began to regain consciousness. The first thing he felt was the warm bed that he was lying in. He gradually opened his eyes fearing the worst, that he was in a French Hospital with a German guard at his bedside.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that he was in a bedroom and not a Hospital Ward.
Harry tried to sit up. The sharp pain coming from his right leg told him that it was a very bad idea.
As he lay there in bed staring at the ceiling, he started to gently examine his body.
Both of his arms seemed to be working.
His left leg worked.
The problem seemed to be with his right leg.
He gently explored it with his hands. He soon found the cause of the pain. His leg was encased in plaster.
He sank back into the soft feather bed. He had broken his leg in at least one place. The presence of the plaster case showed that he had been treated by a doctor.
The downside was that any hopes he had of escaping back to England were in tatters at least for the foreseeable future.
Harry dozed off again.
When Harry opened his eyes again, it was nearly dark
He tried to hear any sounds of life in the house or farm or wherever he was. He heard nothing.
Harry shifted around in the bed as best he could with his leg immobilised.
Then he got a fright. A soft French voice said.
“Bonjour Monsieur, je m'appelle Delphine”
A very startled Harry looked around, and in the gathering gloom, he saw a young woman sitting patiently beside his bed.
"Hello. My name is Harry. I'm sorry, I don't speak French."
The young woman smiled.
"Hello, Monsieur Harry. I am Delphine” she replied in broken English.
“Where am I?” asked Harry.
"In my bed," came the giggled reply.
Harry was not in the mood to joke.
“What happened?”
Delphine giggled.
“You landed on the… how you say it, the pigsty.”
“Oh.”
“Two pigs are no more. Merde.”
"I am so sorry."
“Do not worry. We, are how you say, Pig Farmers.”
Harry smiled back and closed his eyes.
When he woke up again, it was dark outside. The full moon was shining brightly.
He heard a vehicle of some sort drive up outside. He thought nothing of it for a few seconds until he heard shouting in German.
Harry sat up in bed. Then he tried to get out. In the moonlight, he saw the makeshift plaster, and splint on his leg. His previous attempts at moving came back to him.
He sank back into the softness of the bed and closed his eyes again.
Sometime later, the sound of loud voices outside brought his thoughts back to the predicament he was in. It was common knowledge that the Germans took a dim view of any French they caught helping Allied Air-Crew to escape their clutches. Harry, was determined to get away from the house before he was discovered by the Germans.
Harry slid out of the bed, and crawled over the floor, his broken right leg sending shards of pain through his body.
He had just about reached the door when Delphine hurried in.
She put a finger over his mouth.
“The Boche will be gone in a minute. They have come for some Pork for their
Obersturmbannführer's Schnitzel", she whispered.
Harry relaxed in Delphine’s arms.
True to her promise, the ‘Boche’ left the farm less than 10 minutes later.
When the sound of their vehicle faded into the distance, Delphine helped him back into bed.
“They will not return for one or two weeks.”
Harry looked puzzled.
Delphine smiled.
“They leave us alone if we give them pork when they need it. Your bombing has disrupted many of their supply lines especially, food. The German Obersturmbannführer takes food from the farms in the region for him and his officers. Before the war, he was a pig farmer from Schleswig-Holstein. His orders are for all farmers in the area to be left alone as long as his troops are well fed. He knows that if they take everything then when it is gone, his troops are going to get restless on Army Rations. Plus, the chance of retaliation from the Resistance, would grow every day. We live in an uneasy truce. They take just enough so we don't starve, and they get left alone.”
“Aren’t you collaborating with the enemy?”
"We could be seen that way, but we have the blessing of all parts of the resistance. As long as his Panzer Grenadier Batallion is stationed here, they can't be killing our Allies on the Eastern Front or in Italy. It is only a matter of time before they are sent back to the front line, and we might well get an SS Battalion assigned to the area. That is far worse than playing ball with the regular Wehrmacht troops. You English have a saying, 'count your blessings. That is what we are doing each and every day here."
Harry felt relieved and sank back into the bed. It was then that he noticed another bed and some children’s toys.
“Who is the other bed for?” asked Harry and immediately regretted it.
“That is for my daughter Yvette,” replied Delphine.
"Where is she sleeping? I don't want to put either of you out."
“Yvette is with her Grandmother in the village.”
Harry sank back once more.
Delphine came and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Don't worry about us. We will manage, and your job is to get better."
"Then you can have your bed back?"
“You English are so… so funny.”
Harry didn’t know what to make of her reply. Then he saw her wedding ring.
"What about your husband? I don't want to deprive a working man of their bed."
The smile that had been on Delphine’s face disappeared in a flash.
“I’m sorry. I have a big mouth.”
“No. It is just that, my husband Henri died in June 1940. He was the local ambulance driver and a Messerschmitt shot it up during the retreat of our army. He died when it crashed into the river."
“I’m so sorry.”
"It is all right. We have to accept whatever God decides for us."
Harry knew what Delphine meant. His mother was very religious. Years of being forced to go to both Church and Sunday School out of fear of getting beaten had turned Harry off of God for good.
As Harry recovered from his wounds, he learned to speak a passable French thanks to Delphine’s patience. Her daughter Yvette helped in return for learning English.
Harry learned that the rest of his crew had more than likely perished during the attack by the FW-190 and its subsequent explosion. The tangled remains of the Lancaster were in a field a few kilometres from the farm.
The Germans had salvaged every scrap of metal from the crash site in less than a week. It was all shipped back to Germany to help their war effort. Aircraft-grade Aluminium was known to be hard to come by inside Germany.
Once Harry was able to walk again, Delphine took him to the site just before dawn. It saddened him to see all that remained at the site was a few bits of small debris and a large impact crater. He said a little prayer to his comrades just as the sun rose above the horizon. They’d never see another sunrise warming their backs as they flew home over the North Sea.
Delphine knew a few people who knew people who were in the Resistance. One night in late March 1944 they had a visit from 'Claude'. He was supposedly a member of the Resistance in Rheims. He had come to see Harry and discuss Harry's escape options.
When Claude met Harry, he said,
"Monsieur, the Germans are very nervous. Their leaders think that the invasion is going to come tomorrow. We have heard on the BBC, that the Allies have broken through from their landings at Anzio in Italy, and the Russians are likely to enter Poland any day now. The Russians are pressing from the East and have marched into Poland. Every night on the BBC, we hear London telling us to be ready to fight. Getting you out of France before the invasion will be difficult."
This news made Harry sad.
"What do you suggest?" he asked this mysterious leather-jacketed Claude.
“Monsieur, I suggest you remain here.”
Delphine was alarmed at this.
“But the Boche? They come to the farm for Pork. Monsieur Harry cannot remain hidden for very long. If they find him then it is the firing squad for all of us. Monsieur Killie and his family in St Jacques were all shot only last month for helping a Pilot to escape to Spain.”
“The SS and Gestapo have been rounding up many young men in Normandy and Pas De Calais and sending them to Germany to work in factories. Generale De Gaulle has said on the BBC that those men are being held in camps and made to work until they drop dead. They fear that those young men will turn against them when the Invasion comes. It is only a matter of time before that is extended to all of France. The last thing Monsieur Harry wants is to be rounded up and shipped to Germany.”
Claude returned a toothy grin aimed at Harry.
"Monsieur, we have discussed the option of trying to get you to Spain and the recent changes in the south makes it almost impossible. If a young man appears in the area, suspicions will be raised which will be dangerous to everyone who has helped you since you landed on our farm. The only solution other than keeping you completely hidden from the Germans which will be next to impossible is that you will have to become Mademoiselle".
Both Harry and Delphine could not help themselves. They both burst out laughing. Delphine’s father Georges, a man of few words nodded his agreement.
“Bon. It is done,” said Claude as he stood up and left them alone.
[to be continued]
[1] RAF Bruntingthorpe was a real RAF base. Several squadrons of Lancasters operated from there during WW2.
[2] a ‘gong’ is slang for a Medal.
“Do I not get a say in this?” said Harry for once in English.
Delphine smiled at him.
“You can start walking south tomorrow if you want to, but the Germans have stepped up patrols as Claude said.”
She grinned and said,
“If you want to stay here, then it can’t be as a man. The Germans would notice. They are very particular when it comes to knowing where every man in the area is. You don’t have any papers. Besides, you don’t look like a Frenchman. Your hair would make you stand out in a crowd.”
Harry's ginger hair was the bane of his life. He'd been bullied at school because of its refusal to lay flat. It had a life of its own. In the three months, he'd been in France, it had grown both in length and its unruliness.
“As a woman, it is not so… so rare.”
No matter what he tried, Delphine had an answer for him. What was worse was that her daughter Yvette was sitting in the corner laughing her head off. Harry knew that he was doomed.
“We start in the morning,” declared Delphine as she led her daughter out of the house and back to the room over the stables where they slept each night.
Harry’s transformation started in earnest the next day. It was clear right from the outset that Delphine was enjoying every moment of the humiliation of Harry. He went along with her demands without really questioning them for one simple reason… He was falling in love with this woman who seemed so out of place in such a rural setting. Many times, he questioned his feelings for her and every time, the answer was that he’d never met a woman like her and knew that she deserved a better life than on a pig farm some 100 miles east of Rheims.
Things were going well for the first few days. Harry had learned how to move around in a skirt especially how to sit down in a chair. Then the Germans arrived unexpectedly.
Their visit was down to the fact that a USAF B-17 had crashed nearby and there were reports of Parachutes landing in the wood where their pigs roamed freely. Every day, there were contrails of B-17’s visible from the farm. These had noticeably increased in the past month. Everyone agreed amongst themselves that this year was the one when the invasion would happen.
The German patrol checked the papers of all the men before disappearing into the woods. They had been warned that some of the pigs were actually boars and would not take kindly to the Germans getting in the way of them doing their job but they were in too much of a rush to find the ‘Amerikanische Schweine’. They emerged from the wood carrying a dead American Airman.
Landing in the middle of a wood often ended in death or severe injury. Harry had been lucky not to befall the same fate.
When they’d departed, Harry and Delphine emerged from underneath a pile of hay in the barn.
“Hélène, we cannot stay here. It is getting too dangerous,” she exclaimed as she dusted Harry down.
He’d been given the name Hélène, by Delphine’s Father. Once again, Harry had no say in the matter but Harry being Harry and not wanting to risk being thrown out he’d gone along with it.
“Where can we go?” asked Hélène, as she returned the favour to Delphine.
“Les grottes de l'autre côté de la rivière.”
“Caves?” asked Harry in amazement.
“Yes. People have lived in them for hundreds of years. We use them for the pigs when it is bad snow.”
Harry wasn’t convinced.
Delphine saw her reluctance.
“Come, let me show you.”
When they returned, Harry wasn’t convinced but they’d seen many German Vehicles on the local roads from a vantage point above the caves. While the entrances were hidden by trees, they offered next to nowhere to hide and if the Germans were to come up the hill, they'd be trapped.
“The caves look like a trap waiting to happen,” Harry said to Delphine when they’d returned to the farm.
“Why?”
"It is still cold at night. Therefore, some sort of fire is needed. The Germans would see the smoke rising from a new place and investigate. Any occupants of the caves would be trapped."
Delphine thought for a moment.
“But it is clear that you can’t stay here. The Germans are making more detailed searches almost every day.”
"I know. What about the shack in the woods? The one where your father stays when it is time for a sow to give birth. He uses the fire to keep warm when he is there doesn’t, he?”
“Ah! I know what you mean. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Exactly,” said Harry.
“I will get Papa to spend the next two nights there. Meanwhile, I think it might be best for you to move to the old barn down the lane.”
The old hay barn was a wreck. Half of the roof had fallen in years ago.
“There is a cellar that was used for what you say, ‘contraband’ many years ago. It is dry and you can hide there. The Germans have never searched it since they’d occupied that part of France. Harry wondered why this place had not been mentioned before? Then it came to him. This wreck of a building was much closer to the road than the farmhouse and anyone staying there could be noticed by a passing patrol if the occupant was not careful, very careful.
Her words didn’t make Harry very happy but he went along with Delphine.
Any thoughts of him dressing as a woman were long forgotten now that he had a place to hide. He knew how bad he looked in a dress thanks to the base pantomime of 1943. He was perfect for the part of an ugly sister.
Despite his initial reluctance, Harry wasn’t discovered despite several searches of the farm by the increasingly uneasy Germans. They looked through the door of the building and didn't go any farther. The state of what remained of the roof was probably the reason why.
[November 1944]
The whole village was on edge. The Germans were everywhere and very, very jittery. They were increasing their numbers in the area as their forces retreated under the Allied onslaught. The June landings in Normandy had triggered a wave of activity by the resistance. The Germans fought back and there had been many reprisals. Everywhere you went, you could not help but see evidence of those reprisals. People who were suspected of being part of the Resistance were often shot and left by the side of the road to rot as a symbol of German superiority. Some of the suspected leaders of the Resistance were hung from trees in the centre of villages as an even starker warning.
For several days, the sounds of gunfire had been getting louder and louder as the front-line moved ever closer to their location.
The Germans had searched the farm several times and helped themselves to many pigs. These were not killed humanely but shot in the head and roughly loaded onto the back of a lorry and carted off. Thanks to some foresight, several sows and the dominant boar were hidden away in the depths of the forest. The danger of boar attacks always kept the Germans well away from the place where they were being kept safe.
Harry woke up one chilly morning and heard the sound of gunfire. This was not the sound of small arms but artillery and it was close, very close. He knew that the Americans were not that far away.
He was about to leave his hideout and go up to the farmhouse for breakfast when he heard an engine nearby. Through a crack in the barn wall, he could see that it was a German patrol. They'd set up a machine gun at the bottom of the drive to the farm. Harry was trapped for the time being at least. He crept back into the cellar and prayed that he hadn’t already been discovered.
While he waited, his thoughts turned to his old squadron and what they'd been doing since his last mission. He also wondered how many of those were still alive and importantly how lucky he'd been. If only those Germans would get the hell out of town and the war for everyone around would be over.
His daydreaming was rudely interrupted by a lot of shouting in German. It lasted for almost a minute. Then there was silence. A few of the local crows dared break the uneasy peace but otherwise, it was all quiet.
Harry remembered seeing the film ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’ before the war. He started to understand just how little life for those on the ground had changed since the first ‘Great War’. Waiting for the other side to appear in your gunsights wasn't all that different from say 1916 except that the weaponry involved was a lot more powerful.
The silence didn’t last. After an hour or so, there was a new sound. It grew in intensity. Harry knew what it was in an instant. It was the sound of tracked vehicles. That probably meant Tanks or one of those half-tracked vehicles that the Germans had been using in recent weeks.
He didn’t have to wait very long to find out which side it belonged to when the sound of an explosion rocked the ruin of a building that he was hiding in. Another one followed a few seconds later then there was silence. Harry guessed that the German position had been wiped out.
Harry was about to stick his head out to see for himself when he heard a noise from behind him. He turned fearing that it was a German but it was Delphine.
“Quiet,” she hissed.
“There are Germans everywhere.”
Harry realised that he’d been holding his breath. He breathed again and wrapped his arms around Delphine. For an instant she resisted but that didn’t last long. Then he kissed her. It wasn’t a peck on the lips but a full-blown kiss.
“Sorry,” he whispered when they broke apart.
“If we are to die today, I wanted my last kiss to be with someone that I love.”
Delphine seemed stunned for several seconds. Then she laughed quietly.
They sank onto the makeshift bed that Harry had been using and sat quietly. They listened to what was going on nearby.
A lot of voices were shouting in German. Then a vehicle engine started up and the vehicle drove off. Then it was just the crows squawking away in the tops of the trees on the other side of the road.
After almost half an hour Harry heard the sound of a tracked vehicle moving again. It got louder and louder. The vibrations could be felt through the earth.
Once again, Harry hoped that it was the Americans and not a Panzer that was approaching. The clanking stopped nearby and then a voice said,
"Come in, HQ. This is 647. The Jerries have done a bunk. I'm waiting for the Infantry at location J32."
It was the Americans.
Both of them breathed a sigh of relief. Delphine smiled at Harry.
Harry kissed her again.
“Monsieur Harry?”
“Delphine, the war for us is almost over. I’ll be leaving soon but I want to tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you. I know that I could never replace Yvette’s father but I’d like to try. Will you come to England with Yvette and be my wife?”
Delphine responded by kissing Harry.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Before either of them could say anything else, a voice rang out in broken German and then in equally bad French.
“Come out with your hands up whoever you are!”
They must have made a little too much noise.
Harry stood up and helped Delphine. She’d slipped down between two of the straw bales that made up Harry’s bed.
Together, they walked out of the cellar with their hands up.
Waiting for them were two Americans Soldiers.
“Boy are you a sight for sore eyes,” said Harry.
“Flight Sergeant Harry Wells. 212 Squadron RAF.”
He gave them a proper salute.
“Are you for real?” asked one of the two.
"Yes, Corporal. I'm for real. I was shot down or rather my Lancaster was shot down last January after a raid on factories near Munich. I broke my leg in three places when I landed. I’ve been here ever since waiting for liberation.”
"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle," said the other American.
“That won’t be very pretty, Private,” said Harry trying to make light of the situation.
“But if you want some Bacon and Eggs, there is some at Farm at the top of the drive.”
He added,
“I heard your Radio call. You are waiting for your Infantry to catch up. How about it?”
The two Americans looked at each other before the Corporal said,
“Lead on but no funny business understand?”
"Very clear Corporal."
Harry and Delphine led the two Americans to the farm. As they approached, Delphine called out,
“Mama, it is us. We have to Americans with us.”
Delphine's mother appeared at the front door smiling broadly.
“Liberation?”
“Yes Mama, liberation,” said Delphine.
“Can you get some Bacon and some Eggs for the Soldiers?”
“Please come inside.”
The Americans were a little suspicious but relaxed once they’d checked the rooms downstairs.
“The Germans have gone,” said Harry.
“They took off after their position took a couple of rounds from your tank.”
“That’s what we thought,” said the Corporal.
Delphine's mother appeared from the larder with a hessian sack and a cloth bag.
“There is some Bacon and some Ham in there,” she said as she handed over the sack.
“There are some fresh eggs in there so be careful that you do not break them.”
Delphine translated for the Americans.
“Thanks for the food. This will make a change from rations,” said the Corporal.
“I’ll see the Americans to their Tank,” said Harry.
When Harry and Delphine reached the Tank, Harry was introduced to the commander, Sergeant Mulvaney.
“When will your logistics people be through here? I’d like to try to get back to England. There is still a lot of fight left in these Germans.”
“I would think that they’ll be here in a day or so. We broke through last night and we are a good few miles ahead of them.”
"Thanks, Sergeant. I'll wait for them. I wish you all the best for your campaign.”
"Thanks, Sergeant. If you get back to active duty, drop a few bombs on Berlin for us ok?"
“I will gladly do that.”
“Mount up guys. We need to get up to the top of the hill just to be sure that they’ve gone for good.
Harry walked back to the farm with a bit of a spring in his step. The prospect of him going home soon was enticing but also sad.
He’d grown to like the Farm and all the locals he’d met in his time in their company. Then there was Delphine. He was in no doubt that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her but he did wonder how she’d get on with his life as hat maker in Luton. He resolved there and then to find a better life for Delphine and Yvette.
They’d only just reached the farm when he heard an explosion from the direction that the Americans had gone. A plume of black smoke started to rise up above the trees. He resisted going to investigate because he knew instinctively what had happened.
Not all the Germans had left the area. They’d left at least one behind to cover their retreat. He’d seen some of their soldiers equipped with a Panzerfaust anti-tank weapon. If they'd hit it then there was little hope for those inside the tank. Harry rather felt sorry for the Americans. He said a silent prayer and hoped that they didn’t suffer.
“What was that explosion?” asked Delphine.
“I’m afraid that those Americans are dead.”
“Germans?”
“With one of those Panzerfaust weapons that we have seen them carrying recently.”
The people from the Resistance had told us about this new weapon that the Germans were using a few weeks earlier.
“We must go to see if there are any survivors,” said Delphine.
Harry shook his head.
"That's what the Germans are hoping for. It won't be safe until the morning because they will retreat under the cover of darkness.
Remember what Claude told us about their tactics?"
Delphine’s shoulders sagged but she nodded and crossed herself five times, once for each of the young men who were in the tank.
That evening, Harry and Delphine told her parents about her going to England after the war was over. Her father, Georges was understanding but her mother was against it. All she’d say was ‘who will provide for us when we are old?’.
Delphine took hold of her mother's hand and said,
“Now Mama, what about your brother Pierre? He is always asking when you and Papa would be coming to help on his farm?”
“Merde! Pierre is not a farmer and never will be.”
“Then you will have to teach him won’t you Papa?” said Delphine.
Georges laughed.
“Go to England with Monsieur Harry with our blessing.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
Then she kissed him on the cheeks.
Georges went very red in the face.
[two weeks later]
“It is time for me to go,” said Harry.
"The plane to England won't wait forever."
“I know my dear,” said Delphine.
They kissed once again.
Then Harry picked up Yvette and gave her a big hug.
“I will return when the war is over. Do not forget.”
“I will not forget Monsieur Henri,” said Yvette.
Even Delphine’s parents were sad to see Harry go. Once it was clear that the Germans had gone for good, he had helped Georges to do some of the many repair jobs around the farm. Together, they’d even properly repaired the pigsty that he’d landed on almost 11 months before.
Harry climbed into the US Army jeep that was to take him to an airfield on the road to Paris where he would fly back to England in a transport aircraft that had ferried in replacement troops for the US Army.
After some leave which Harry spent with his parents in Luton, he spent three months at a training base which ended in April 1945. He was assigned back to 44 Squadron where he took part in food drops to people in Western Holland and once the war was over, he spent time helping to repatriate POW’s from Germany and other occupied countries.
Harry, like the rest of 44 Squadron was stood down in October 1945 and was demobbed in early December 1945. Harry did not return to his home in Luton. His former Squadron Leader wanted someone on his Estate in Swaledale, North Yorkshire to look after his prize herd of pigs. His time in France was going to prove very useful after all. Once he was settled in, he spent the rest of the winter preparing his cottage for the arrival of Delphine and Yvette.
Once the war had ended, Harry had been in regular contact by letter. Delphine was anxious to come to England but once she’d seen photos of the work that Harry was doing, she forgave him. Yvette was just as keen to see a new country and to practice her now very good English.
[May 1946]
Harry returned to France by train and ship. He was very nervous when he stepped off the train at the nearest station to Delphine’s home. Was he doing the right thing in taking Delphine and Yvette away from their home and to a foreign land? That and dozens of similar questions had tortured him at almost every step of the journey back to eastern France.
All his worries disappeared in a flash when Yvette came running along the platform to greet him. Delphine was not far behind her daughter. They embraced long enough for the train to depart and disappear around a curve about 1km from the small country station.
“I missed you,” said a breathless Delphine.
“I missed you too,” said Harry.
Yvette tugged Harry’s trousers.
He knelt down and hugged Yvette.
“I missed you but you are not the little girl I left behind.”
Yvette looked sad.
“You have grown so much!”
That made her happy.
“Marcel is waiting with his Citroen,” said Delphine.
Marcel’s prize Citroen was a local legend. He’d hidden it away the day that the Germans invaded France, Belgium and the Netherlands in 1940. It was hidden under 20 tonnes of straw and he promised that was there it would stay until his beloved France was liberated and the war over. Delphine had sent Harry a copy of the local newspaper on VE Day with Marcel’s Citroen covered in the French Flag parading around the area.
It didn’t take long for them to get to Delphine’s home. Harry was surprised by all the people who were on the street waving at them. It turned out that Harry was something of a local hero even though he could not understand why that was.
That evening, a dinner was held in Harry's honour. He'd be forever known as 'Les Rostbif who killed a sow’ or words to that effect.
Harry stayed in France for three days before the three of them left and took the train to Paris where Delphine and Yvette obtained passports for their journey to England. The Ferry journey to Dover was an experience for Delphine and Yvette. Neither of them had seen the sea before let alone travelled on it.
London was a shock to Delphine. She'd heard about the bombing on BBC Radio but to see how bad it was for herself was quite depressing. Thankfully, it was only a short ride on the Underground from London Bridge to Kings Cross where they stayed overnight before their train north.
After a change of trains in Northallerton, they took the local stopping train to Aysgarth. Delphine was amazed at the change in the landscape. It was very different from the part of France that she knew and loved. Yvette was happy at seeing sheep for the first time.
Delphine was surprised to see a Rolls Royce waiting for them in the station car park.
“Harry? Is this yours?”
“No. It belongs to the estate owner, my former Squadron Leader.”
“Is he some sort of Lord?”
Henry laughed.
“No. He is just a businessman who now runs the estate that his father bought in 1922.”
“How big is it? You never told me?”
“A little over two thousand hectares,” replied Harry. He’d done the conversion from Acres to Hectares before his journey to France.
The sheer size of the property shocked Delphine quite a bit. Her families farm was a little over eighty hectares.
Harry sensed Delphine’s unease.
“Don’t worry darling, we are just like you, people who work the land for a living.”
“I do not see any crops?”
“Most of the place was taken over by the military during the war but we want to build up the shooting business once again. Then there is the fishing, the sheep and of course the pigs.”
“Shooting?”
“People will pay good money to spend the day on the moors trying to shoot a Pheasant or even a Grouse. The same goes for the fishing but most of our income is from the tenant farmers who raise thousands of lambs a year.”
Delphine just stared out of the window. She had a lot to take in.
“What about the pigs?”
“That is all down to you my darling. What I learned from you and your father is why we are here. The old lord who owned the estate loved the pigs he raised. A condition of the sale was that the new owner carries on with the herd. The old pig-man was killed in Burma so here I am. Here we are. This is our home now.”
A couple of minutes later, Delphine saw the cottage that would be their home from that day forward. It was so different from her old home in France but also much the same. It was a working farm. The sound of pigs being pigs greeted her like an old friend.
"Oui mon Cheri. It is our home," said Delphine.
Yvette had already seen the ducks dabbling in the small pond and had gone to investigate. Her clean clothes were not going to be clean for much longer.
Delphine shed a tear of happiness.
[the end]
[postscript]
Delphine and Yvette made a life for themselves and their family in Yorkshire. Harry married Delphine in the spring of 1947 and they lived a comfortable life in the dales. In 1958, Yvette married one of the people who came to the estate for the shooting. She moved to London where Vivienne was born in 1959. The rest is, as they say, history.
[authors note]
I hope you like my little tale of how Vivienne came to choose the name Delphine before she married Jacques.