Resistance

by Christopher Nicole

  The two men followed him into the office and closed the door. ‘This is my associate, Captain Biedermann,’ Kluck said.

  ‘Captain.’ Moulin did not offer to shake hands with either of them, but gestured them to chairs and seated himself behind his desk.

  ‘You are a busy man, Monsieur le Prefect,’ Kluck remarked. ‘My people have a great deal to worry about. What can I do for you?’

  ‘We shall not take up much of your time. We are going to ask a favour of you.’

  ‘Yes?’ Moulin’s voice was cautious.

  ‘We understand that you are friendly with the de Gruchy family. The wine people. They live in Chartres.’

  ‘No. They have a house here, but they live mainly in the Gironde. That is where their vineyards are situated.’

  ‘You mean they are not here now?’

  ‘They left when the invasion started.’

  ‘Leaving their daughter behind?’ Biedermann asked. Moulin frowned; this man could not possibly know about Madeleine. ‘Which daughter are we speaking about?’

  ‘You mean they have more than one? I am speaking of a hellcat named Liane.’

  ‘You have news of Liane? She’s not dead?’

  ‘Unfortunately no,’ Kluck said. ‘She is in her Paris flat.’

  ‘Thank God for that! And you came here to tell her family? That is very kind of you, Colonel.’

  ‘That is not why I came here, Prefect. This woman found herself in the north of the country, in the path of our advancing troops. She had an American friend with her.’

  Moulin nodded. ‘Joanna Jonsson. They were delivering Mademoiselle de Gruchy’s brother and brother-in-law to their regiment. That was on the day your people crossed the border. But that was two months ago. Where have they been since then?’

  ‘Down to our occupation of Paris, in one of our hospitals.’

  ‘You said they were not hurt.’

  ‘They were in a very disturbed frame of mind. Obviously they had never experienced war before, and they were shocked at what they saw.’

  Moulin nodded. ‘I can appreciate that. Mademoiselle Jonsson’s brother was with them.’

  ‘So they say. But there is no evidence of it.’ Moulin frowned. ‘In fact,’ Kluck went on, ‘there is no evidence that anything they say is true. They were clearly traumatized, and have been making the most absurd statements of things they allege to have happened to them.’

  Moulin continued to frown. He could not imagine Liane de Gruchy being traumatized by anything. ‘They have even accused some of our soldiers of repeatedly raping them,’ Biedermann said.

  ‘That is a serious charge.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Kluck agreed. ‘And it is untrue. There is not a single shred of evidence to support their allegations.’

  ‘Were they not medically examined?’

  ‘Yes, they were. Neither was a virgin. But they admitted that they had both lost their virginity some years ago. We are not speaking of young girls.’

  ‘But you still do not believe their allegations.’

  ‘We know that they are untrue.’

  ‘Then how can I help you?’

  ‘Well, you see, Fraulein de Gruchy is not a problem. She is in Paris and, shall I say, under our control. Unfortunately, Fraulein Jonsson is not. We had hoped she would see reason, but the first thing she did on being released from hospital and returning to Paris was go to the American embassy. We could not prevent her from doing this,’ he added ingenuously.

  ‘And now they are raising the matter diplomatically.’

  ‘They have not as yet. But the American ambassador immediately arranged for Fraulein Jonsson to leave the country. Now she has done so. She is in Switzerland and we believe on her way to England. This so prompt departure, one could almost call it a flight, is very suspicious. It would appear that the Americans are intending to use her as a propaganda weapon against us. That would be unacceptable. It reflects upon the integrity of the Wehrmacht.’

  ‘I can see that would be a serious matter,’ Moulin agreed drily. ‘But I still do not see how I can help you.’

  ‘It is necessary that her story be utterly discredited before it is even made public. Of course we could bring pressure to bear upon Fraulein de Gruchy to say that her friend’s allegations are entirely untrue, and we will do this if it becomes necessary. But it is a question as to whether the world, the neutral world, will believe her or suppose that she has been, shall I say, got at. We need the charge to be dismissed as nonsense by someone of spotless reputation and importance in the community, who also happens to know these women well, and can therefore confirm them as a pair of hysterics. You are the prefect of Chartres. Your integrity is widely accepted. You are also a friend of the de Gruchys. You have known these two women, or certainly Fraulein de Gruchy, for years. If you were to say, publicly, that you have no doubt that the charges are entirely the product of two overwrought female minds, it would carry a great deal of weight. As a matter of fact, what would suit us best is if you were to say that the women, or certainly Fraulein de Gruchy, had confessed to you that they were indeed raped, but by fleeing French soldiers. This would be very helpful in any future accusations that might arise.’

  Moulin gazed at him for several seconds. ‘You have just paid me the compliment of describing me as a man of integrity.’

  ‘That is the public perception, yes. I would prefer to think that you are a man of sense. Your cooperation will be very beneficial for you, and for the people you serve. You must be realistic, Prefect. Most of France is now a German province. It will remain so for the foreseeable future. That being the case, does it not make sense to cooperate fully with us? I need hardly say that the personal benefits to you will be enormous.’ Moulin continued to gaze at him for several seconds. The temptation was certainly enormous, especially as he did not believe that the propaganda damage that could be done to the Wehrmacht by an unsubstantiated accusation of rape would be of the least importance to neutral, even American, observers compared with the shattering collapse of France. But to perjure himself, to dishonour himself, not only as a man but as a government official, not to mention letting down his old friends... So far there was nothing honourable about anything in this war from France’s point of view, save for a few individual acts of heroism and determined resistance. And it was a very slippery slope that was being proposed to him. To lie for the Germans in this instance would mean lying for them again, as and when they required it. Because he was a man of integrity and people would believe him. ‘Well?’ Kluck demanded.

  Moulin took a deep breath. ‘I am sorry, Herr Colonel. I cannot assist you in this matter. As you say, I have been a friend of the de Gruchy family for a long time. I have known Liane since she was a girl. I know that she is neither a liar nor a hysteric. If she says she was raped by German soldiers, then she was raped by German soldiers.’

  Kluck clearly could not believe his ears. ‘You are defying me? You are defying the Reich?’

  ‘Not at all. I am merely saying that I cannot assist you in this matter. In fact, it would be a disaster for you, as if you were to insist on involving me, I would have to support Mademoiselle de Gruchy’s story.’

  Kluck stared at him for several seconds, then looked at Biedermann, who drew a Luger automatic pistol from a shoulder holster beneath his jacket and presented it at Moulin’s head. ‘You are under arrest.’

  Moulin refused to flinch. ‘Am I allowed to know the charge?’

  ‘In the first instance, the charge is of behaviour considered to be detrimental to the requirements of the Reich,’ Kluck said. ‘That is treason. Get up.’ Slowly Moulin rose to his feet. ‘Now walk before us down to my car. I do not wish to cause a scene and so will not handcuff you. And Captain Biedermann will pocket his gun. But should you make any attempt to escape, or should any attempt be made to interfere with us, he will shoot you dead, and anyone else who may become involved.’

  ‘Am I allowed to send for my lawyer?’

  ‘In due
course. When you have discussed the situation further with us at Gestapo headquarters. If, for example, we manage to change your mind about cooperating with us, you will not need your lawyer.’

  *

  ‘Your business, Fraulein.’

  Madeleine gazed at a bald head. ‘I have an appointment with Major von Helsingen.’

  The sergeant looked at her for the first time. Madeleine was wearing white slacks and a loose blue blouse and was well worth looking at, even if her hair was concealed beneath a bandanna. The soldier standing at her shoulder, who had escorted her into the building, rolled his eyes. ‘Your name?’

  ‘Madeleine de Gruchy.’

  The sergeant checked his list. ‘There is no appointment.’

  ‘There must be. The appointment was made this morning by the prefect, Monsieur Moulin.’

  The sergeant leaned back in his chair. ‘Moulin, you say.’

  ‘The prefect of Chartres,’ Madeleine reminded him.

  ‘He is a friend of yours?’

  ‘Yes. He is a friend of my father’s.’

  ‘And where is your father?’

  ‘He is in Paulliac. Why am I being asked all these questions? All I wish is a travel permit.’

  ‘All you wish,’ the sergeant sneered. ‘Well - ’ There was a sudden flurry of activity, a clicking of heels. The sergeant pushed back his chair, and stood up, also coming to attention. ‘Heil Hitler!’

  ‘Carry on. Who is this?’

  Madeleine turned, and gazed at a young man in officer’s uniform. He was of medium height, but with good shoulders and chest, clean-shaven, his face crisply handsome. His hair was dark, although his eyes were blue. ‘She says her name is de Gruchy, Herr Major,’ the sergeant explained. ‘Claims to be a friend of the prefect,’ he added significantly.

  ‘De Gruchy,’ Major von Helsingen said. ‘There are wine merchants of that name.’ He spoke excellent French.

  ‘My father, Herr Major,’ Madeleine said.

  ‘Good Heavens. Do you live in Chartres? I would have supposed - ’

  ‘Our home is in Paulliac, Herr Major. But we have a house here. Now I would like to go home, to Paulliac. Monsieur Moulin said I should apply to you for a travel permit. I would also like a gasoline allocation.’

  ‘When did he tell you this?’

  ‘We spoke this morning. He said he would make an appointment, but he seems to have forgotten.’

  Von Helsingen regarded her for a few moments, then went to the foot of the stairs which led up from the hall. ‘Come up to my office, if you will, mademoiselle.’ Madeleine hesitated, then went to him. He stood aside to allow her to precede him. ‘It is the door on the left.’

  Madeleine opened the door, and a female secretary, smart and attractive in her white shirt, black tie and skirt, yellow hair in a tight bun on the nape of her neck, looked up in surprise, and then rose to stand to attention as the major also entered. ‘I will take no calls for half an hour, Eva.’

  ‘Yes, Herr Major.’ She gave Madeleine an inquisitorial look.

  Von Helsingen opened the inner door and allowed Madeleine to enter, then closed it behind them both. He gestured her to a chair before his desk, and sat behind it himself. ‘You said you spoke with Monsieur Moulin this morning. Where was this?’

  ‘He called at my house. Has something happened to him?’

  ‘The prefect was arrested by the Gestapo late this morning.’

  ‘Arrested?’ Madeleine cried. ‘But why?’

  ‘The Gestapo do not confide their reasons. You say Moulin called at your house. Why?’

  ‘He came to tell me to leave Chartres.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because...’ Madeleine sucked her lower lip between her teeth. ‘My sister has been arrested.’

  ‘Your sister? Here in Chartres? I have not been informed of this. What is her name?’

  ‘Amalie. She lives in Dieppe. She hit a Gestapo agent on the head with a pewter vase.’

  She felt sure Helsingen had to suppress a smile. ‘That is a very serious matter. Are you saying this man is dead?’

  ‘I do not think so.’

  ‘Just angry, eh? That is fortunate. Did your sister have a reason for striking him?’

  ‘She is very impulsive.’

  ‘Apparently.’

  ‘This man had just arrested her mother-and father-in-law.’

  ‘Did he give a reason?’

  ‘They’re Jewish.’

  ‘You’re not Jewish?’ He sounded positively alarmed.

  ‘No, no. Amalie married their son.’

  ‘Good Heavens! Why did she do that?’

  ‘She was in love with him, Herr Major.’

  ‘And he was also arrested?’

  ‘No. He was serving with the Motorized Cavalry. He was reported missing after the Battle of the Meuse.’

  ‘That was six weeks ago.’

  ‘Six weeks in which she has not known whether he is alive or dead. She is distraught with worry.’

  ‘She must be, to have hit a German policeman on the head.’

  ‘Monsieur Moulin was going to see if he could help her. But if he has been arrested... Do you think that is why he was arrested?’

  ‘I doubt it, unless there was something sinister about what your sister did.’

  ‘Sinister? Amalie does not know the meaning of the word. She is only twenty.’

  ‘Hm. Would you like me to look into it?’

  ‘Would you? Could you? Oh, that would be splendid.’

  ‘I happen to be a friend of the officer commanding in Dieppe. I will have a word with him. Are you in a great hurry to get down to Paulliac, mademoiselle?’ Madeleine stared at him. it occurs to me, you see, that if I were to be successful in securing the release of your sister, it might be a good idea for you to remain in Chartres a day or two longer so that you can escort her down to Paulliac yourself. If she is as impulsive and hot-headed as you say, it might be unwise for her to travel by herself.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. I see what you mean. How long - ’

  ‘I can be in touch with Franz this afternoon, and hopefully have things sorted out in a couple of days.’

  ‘That would be wonderful. I should be eternally grateful. But... do you really think your friend will be able to help? We have been told that, well, the Gestapo is a law unto itself.’

  ‘That is their reputation, certainly. And they do have extensive powers. But north-western France is under military occupation, and thus the Wehrmacht is the ultimate authority. The Gestapo usually find it convenient to cooperate with us. As we often cooperate with them.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. I see. Well, as I said, I shall be eternally grateful to you.’

  ‘Then perhaps you will do me the honour of having dinner with me tonight.’

  Madeleine opened her mouth and then shut it again. But hadn’t she always known there would have to be a price to pay? At least he seemed to be a very nice man.

  ‘Tell me about this girl, Amalie de Gruchy,’ Franz Hoepner suggested.

  Captain Roess raised his eyebrows. ‘You know her, Herr Major?’

  ‘If I knew her, Roess, I would not be asking you to tell me about her. I gather she is well connected.’

  ‘She is a daughter of Albert de Gruchy, the wine merchant.

  That does not give her the right to strike one of my officers. Poor Moeller is in hospital and liable to remain there for at least another week. It was a very heavy vase, hurled with considerable force, and he was wearing only a soft hat. Had he been bare-headed, it might have killed him.’

  ‘I am sure there was provocation.’

  There was none reported. Or claimed by her. She appears to have lost her head when her mother-and father-in-law were arrested. They are Jews.’

  ‘So I have been told. Where are they now?’

  ‘On their way to Germany.’

  ‘And the son, this girl’s husband, is reported missing in action. I would say there was provocation. Of circumstances. Sufficient to make a young bride
lose her senses, temporarily.’

  ‘That is still no excuse for striking one of my people.’

  ‘So what have you done with her?’

  ‘She is in a cell, awaiting trial. And conviction.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, execution is the prescribed sentence. But she is very pretty. It may be possible to give her an alternative sentence.’

  ‘In one of your brothels, you mean. You really are a detestable fellow, Roess.’ Roess’s head came up, sharply, but he decided against making a reply. ‘So what have you done to her so far?’ Hoepner asked.

  ‘Nothing. Well, we had to search her.’

  ‘Naturally. And what did you find?’

  Roess grinned. ‘That she was a virgin. After two months of marriage.’

  ‘And is she still a virgin?’

  ‘Well...’

  ‘You are admitting that your men raped a prisoner who has not yet been convicted?’

  ‘My men did not rape her,’ Roess snapped. ‘With respect, Herr Major. She was examined, searched. My men did not know she was a virgin as she was a married woman, and, well... fingers, you know...’

  ‘I take back what I said just now. You are not detestable, Roess. You are downright disgusting. And your men.’

  Roess’s face stiffened. ‘I resent that, Herr Major. My men were doing their duty.’

  ‘No doubt. However, I would say that their duty inflicted something far worse than rape on Fraulein de Gruchy. I would also say that she has been punished sufficiently for a single impetuous act. I wish the charges against her dropped.’

  ‘She is a prisoner of the Gestapo, not the Wehrmacht. You have no jurisdiction over us.’

  ‘Have you ever met my uncle, the general? Or heard of him?’ Roess swallowed. ‘I see that you have. In view of his recent exploits, he is one of the Fiihrer’s favourite panzer commanders. I am having dinner with him next week. I am sure that you would like me to tell him what a good job you are doing, Roess. Or not, as the case may be.’

  Roess licked his lips. ‘If it is so important to you, Herr Major, the charges will be dropped.’