By the end of basic, she had been promoted to sergeant, because of her outstanding ability in mathematics and her proficiency in French. She had also studied some German. She had already been practicing cryptography and map reading. It was not long before she received her orders. She would ship to England.
Sailing on the Queen Mary, she arrived in London the middle of August, 1944, already marked by the OSS as a WAC cryptographer. She would be of use either in England or in Europe where the Americans were besieged in the Ardennes and fighting off the Germans at Bastogne.
When she arrived at headquarters, two women met her, a Captain known as Lynette Boucher and a Lieutenant known as Cheri Dormand. They would not only be her superiors but supervisors, perhaps occasionally her teachers. An enlisted WAC took her to her quarters in the city, a wet and dismal place, as far as Deirdre was concerned. It was also dangerous because of the rockets. She had heard that WACs had been either killed or injured.
The over-all commander was a male colonel. He was a husky man of about 5’10,” brown-haired with a small crook in his nose and a round chin, not particularly handsome but who appealed to many of the women because of his usually soft voice and bright brown eyes. When angry, those under him scurried or swore, although the women usually avoided swearing, not caring for it. Most despised his use of fuck and shit when angry, despised it in any of the males. Nor did they care to be seen as sexual objects and proved themselves to the men who came not only to accept them but to admire their abilities. On the streets it was different, “Look at those breasts, mamma mia, those legs. What a piece of ass she would make.”
When the colonel met Deirdre, he tried to hide his attraction to this, how could he describe it, “this beauty,” “a doll,” “a combination Ava Gardner and Rita Hayworth.” Deirdre knew what he was thinking but never acknowledged his admiration, stood straight and expressionless.
“Sergeant Deirdre Cunningham reporting, sir.”
“At ease, Sergeant.”
He watched her momentarily, instantly aware of the intelligence within her eyes as he watched them move about the room, remembering what she saw, analyzing the colonel while they talked.
“Sergeant, we don’t know how well you’ll do here. We’ll find out. From now on, though, you’ll be known as Agathe Lefevre.” He had already decided upon her fitness, if she had the strength and intelligence he believed was there from reading the reports. If so, she would be sent to France to help the Maquis.
~
By January, after the Battle of the Bulge had been won and the Seventh Army was poised to move for Southern Germany and to take Southern France, Deirdre had already shown her ability with cryptography, had parachuted several times, and complained to others of the WACs about her bruised breasts from the snapping of the straps. Yet, no one knew how long it would take to conquer Germany or undo the damage of the Pétain government completely under control of German troops. The German civilians still did not believe that Hitler would lose the war, despite the mass bombings and the destruction of their cities, including their fear of advancing Russians in the East and the Allies in the West.
Deirdre – Agathe parachuted at night near the Alps, met by Maquis that included one female who would see to Deirdre’s female needs and test her reactions to France and the men. They had to be certain the Americans or English had not dropped a double agent. The woman who took her to her quarters was somewhat suspicious. Perhaps I’m jealous of her looks. It did not take long to recognize that they had a good agent after the woman talked to Agathe Lefevre. The woman hurried Agathe to meet the chief that night, despite Agathe’s weariness. It was then perhaps she could make mistakes they would notice.
The chief was a man named Étienne Moreau. They already had one agent in the German headquarters in Lyon who would prepare for the group’s planned attack, hoping to hurry the retreating Germans from Vichy France.
Between Agathe with her messaging and the woman in the headquarters it would be a good combination, assuring coordination. Étienne needed this new woman, but he would have to make certain she was not an infiltrator from the Germans even though the Americans had dropped her.
“Hello, Agathe,” Étienne spoke softly and kindly. She wanted to sleep, but answered strongly about her happiness of being with him and the Maquis. She watched him as closely as he did Deirdre. He was a man of about medium height, broad shouldered, with a hard, handsome face. His curly black hair and blue eyes appealed to her, as did that body which she believed could withstand and give much punishment. She especially watched his eyes as he talked, analyzing her. Agathe-Deirdre started to smile, thinking of the time they were wasting.
“Talk to me some. Tell me about yourself,” his voice a bit harsher.
“You know about me. I’m with the American OSS, and I’m here to make sure everything we need gets to us. I’ll also be listening for anything in French that comes through from Lyon or elsewhere, transmit it back to England and. . . Oh why go on? You know what I’m doing here,” showing her annoyance with these preliminaries.
She wanted to know about him, about the group from his lips, though she already knew much from her information in England. The softness and hardness in Agathe-Deirdre was why the Americans chose her. Though she occasionally showed some fear, most of the time she hid it. She concealed the slight softness in her and was quite capable of showing whatever she wished of herself and veiling whatever she wanted. Deirdre was, in effect, an excellent actress, perhaps could have been a Hollywood star. She smiled at him, turned her body slightly for him to see her figure while watching his face.
“Let me see your papers,” he commanded, amused by her turn as though she were a fashion model but fascinated by her face and body. She handed them to him. He closely studied the photo, the wording, the paper to be sure there was nothing that would betray her. If there were to be a betrayal, she would be the one who would reveal it. After a time of just talk and Étienne assuring that members of the group met her, they drank wine as a welcome to the new member. The woman who had taken her to her quarters was there, went and sat beside her. “I’m Juliette, Agathe.” She then whispered, “We have another woman in the headquarters he’s going to arrange for you to meet.” Juliette faced Agathe, placed an arm about her. “I know you’re weary. Ah, what a pleasure to have another woman nearby. You’ll meet the other who’s at the Boche, brutal pigs rather, headquarters. You’re a looker. So is she. She fooled them from the first. You could too. They’ll fuck any woman, but one like she is or you, hah, that’s a real conquering. Frankly, I avoid them whenever possible. They’ll want to see what’s below that floppy coat you have to wear. You be careful of them. They’ll rape and then tell you you wanted it all along.”
Agathe, because of the anger in Juliette’s voice, wanted to ask about her.
Juliette saw the question. “Why hide it? They raped my mother and me. I hid my younger sister when they came to the house. They killed my father who tried to protect us. I hate the rapist pigs, cried so hard when they gathered up the Jews and sent them to the concentration camps. We’re living in swill here, and we’ll kill as many of them as we can. They got that bastard Pétain to go along with them. Talk about traitors. He was the hero, some hero, of the first war. Just wait until we can bring De Gaulle to all of France.”
“Ah, I’m sorry.” “Agathe, I’m a bitter woman and I want my revenge. I try to hide it from the men, joke with them, but they know better than even to touch me. I’m so happy to have you with us, to have another woman I can talk to more often than with others in different places.” She looked closely at Agathe. “Don’t pity me. Save it. We’re here for the same reason.”
“I won’t talk about it, bring it up. Let’s just try and be friends.”
“Friends? Maybe that’s not so good if one of us gets it.”
Deirdre changed from rape to Étienne. “What about him? You like him. It’s obvious everyone is loyal and will follow him.”
“Hah,” Juliette answe
red. “You like him already.”
Agathe tried to ignore her smile.
“He’s got some background. He was in Greece and came back to France just in time for the formation of the Petain government. Étienne didn’t waste time. He’s a natural leader who has headed this group for ages, it seems.
“By the way, has he told you he’s going to get you and Diane together?”
“Not yet. I know it’s necessary.”
“Wait until you see her.” Juliette laughed. “Two beauties. Yes, she’s got it, what the pigs want. How she puts up with it, being fucked by that Boche pig General. But she gets the information we need. So perhaps besides the pleasure, there’s that continual drip of useful information. Hah. I’m wicked. Agathe, I’m truly sorry. I haven’t talked so freely to a woman in so long. You can see and feel the hatred in me, no?”
“I do.” Agathe started to put her hand on Juliette’s face but stopped, not wanting the men to see any sign of affection or understanding.
Étienne had been watching them and interrupted. “Hah, female gossip. Good for the soul. You women.”
“Yeah, you women,” Juliette barked. Men in the room looked toward them. “We’re just chatter boxes, Étienne.”
“Stop, Julie. I can imagine what it’s like to be with men most of the time. I’m pleased you two seem to be getting along. But it’s time for Agathe to get some sleep. It’s quite a day tomorrow. I sent for Diane, and there’s messages with England needed.”
The night ended. Deirdre-Agathe Lefevre went to her small room in a farm house from which she could look out toward the Alps, wondering whether she would ever see her parents again, if they would ever know what happened to their daughter from whom they hadn’t heard for so long. She worried just now whether they disowned her. But that hardness that protected her returned – the independent, star student no longer but a member of the Maquis, the OSS, and a killer, if need be. Christine’s and Edward’s Deirdre had died.
While looking toward the window before she fell asleep, she suddenly thought of an ocean storm, the waves rising, turning a deceitful white spray spearing the coast, spewing their beauty and anger. Had a weary Deirdre died in that surf image? Silence.
~
The following day the group urgently met with Étienne.
“We have little time. We must get to Lyon. Diane has sent a message that Agathe has received.” He looked at this new woman, admiring her body and face so perfectly formed it was almost impossible to believe. He turned from her, compared her to Juliette, was angry with himself for doing so. There was no time for women right now. They were also fighters. He would find out; however, Agathe was difficult to ignore – if she were not a German agent.
“The Boche are planning another roundup. Perhaps, if fortunate, we’ll save some. Our main plan, however, from the message is that we should attack as soon as possible and force a quicker retreat, get as many papers as we can from their headquarters. Diane will meet a few of us while the rest of you wait my orders on the outskirts. There’s two safe houses held by widows, widows because the bastards took their husbands into custody and no one ever heard from them again.”
They had an old truck and a car. The truck held bicycles, as well as men; the car Étienne, Agathe, and Étienne’s lieutenants.
“We’re joining the main group that has been in Lyon. And listen, we’re out for revenge against the terror of Klaus Barbie, as well as setting the fear of the French and the Allies in the fucking Germans.” Étienne was angry at how long it was taking to drive such a relatively short distance. He wanted to kill Germans for the French and for disrupting his life because of these Maquis with whom he had become so close. He had never imagined being close to anyone, having been on his own so much before the war, having lost his parents to the Nazis who thought the parents knew where he was. He had heard that Barbie had personally tortured them. The Boche would suffer in this hopefully final attack.
They arrived outside Lyon in the evening, having all passed through check points. Once, looking inside the car, one of the Nazis asked Agathe to get out. He questioned her, found her imperturbable. It was her face that drew her to him. He grabbed her shoulder, pulled her into the guardhouse, pushed her, standing with his back to the car. “Open that coat.” She started to balk, calmed herself and did as he asked, thought of kicking him in his balls, as he grabbed for her breasts. Grimacing, she stood quite still.
“You like them?” You fucking son of a bitch.
“Yah. Soft. They must stand up. Lovely. Leave your friends and stay here. I’ll see you rejoin them.”
“No. You come to my home, handsome one. We can get together then,” she forced a smile. God help you if I ever see you again. “My friends are waiting. Please let me go. Here. Look at my papers again, and you’ll know where to find me. Meet me?” she forced another smile, fluttering her eyelashes. “We can have a good time then.”
He saw an officer coming and let her go to the car. “I’ll see you there,” he called just loudly enough for her to hear, as did the others in the car.
When she got in, Étienne started off, looked at her through the rear mirror. “Now you know.”
“I know, Étienne. Sometimes it’s hard being a woman. But men don’t know how we can punish.”
“Perhaps. Why do you think you’re here?” He laughed. “You’re getting tough.” Juliette touched her arm, ran her hand along it, telling her she understood.
At the farm house in which they would stay by the Rhone, they unloaded their equipment, took their sleeping quarters. Juliette and Agathe shared a room. The men took another on the floor below.
“Agathe. Come down as soon as you can.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Tomorrow, very early morning, Diane will be here. I want you two to know one another. You’re the new Diane contact. Make sure you get along. With your knowledge, maybe it will be easier.” He was making small talk now. It was obvious her skill in cryptography would help them maintain contact with the main Lyon group, as well as Diane, England, and the Allies now in Southern France driving hard against the Germans who in some places were fleeing in panic.
As the sun rose the next morning, Agathe heard a car, jumped from bed fully clothed. She had wanted to sleep in a soft filmy nightgown, to feel desirable. That, she knew quite well, would have to wait. She watched the car approach and stop. A woman about Agathe’s height, with reddish blonde hair, a straight short nose, high cheek bones, hazel eyes, wearing a dress that showed the shape of her breasts and hips, her long, slim legs as she walked. She’s a looker. Probably beds any damn Nazi she wants or they want.
In fact, Diane was the mistress of an aide to the officer in charge of the Lyon headquarters. If she dared sleep with another, she must have kept it secret. Agathe wondered what it would be like to be a spy, to become the sexual partner of an enemy, like Mata Hari, so you could get information. She would not like that. Her lover had to be her choice, or so she still thought despite what she had learned through OSS and here in France.
The two women met outside, greeted each other with a shake of hands, forced smiles, each wondering who was the more desirable, knowing they had to work together, perhaps uneasily.
Diane spoke first. “I am pleased to meet you. Your description was so accurate.”
“And that came from Étienne, no?”
“You guessed it. I want to ask him to let you come to headquarters with me, to meet the great high command.” She surprised Agathe. What was the purpose? Without answering they went in to have a light breakfast, eating alone with Étienne. Diane looked about, studying the building, deciding how many people Étienne had brought with him.
While she drank coffee, Diane asked, “I would like Agathe to come to headquarters, to see what it’s like, to introduce her as a friend. Looking at her, they’ll be after her.”
You ought to know, Agathe thought.
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. There’s going to be a coordinated
attack soon.”
“When will it be so I can get free of the pig Boche and help as you get closer?”
Neither Étienne nor Agathe liked the manner of her question.
“Soon. We’ll make certain you’re safe,” Étienne replied slowly. “When do you want her?”
“I thought of taking her with me. I have some clothes, various sizes to make sure there’s a fit. Not too fancy, though.”
Agathe looked at Étienne. “All right. Go with Diane, but get her back here before evening.”
Diane’s eyes brightened. She turned her head to hide her expression. Agathe noticed each of her movements. She seemed uncomfortable, but Étienne who worked with her for so long was intent on his own thoughts, the need of Agathe for the radio.
“All right. Get going as soon as she’s dressed.”
They went upstairs where Juliette was dressing. “Oh. Juliette. You’re here too. How nice. I wish we had some time for woman talk, but I’m in a hurry.”
Juliette had only met Diane once and did not like her, not only because she didn’t trust her but because of the way she flaunted her body. Sometimes she wondered whether she was just jealous. Right now was no time for analysis.
Diane took out the dresses. One, a reddish blue, almost purple with diagonal stripes would fit and not look too rich. “Try this.” Agathe wanted to object. “Underwear, Diane?” she asked. She brought out several bras, panties, and slips. When she saw Agathe’s body, the straight full breasts, she was somewhat jealous again. She watched as Agathe quickly pulled on what she thought would fit.
“Fine,” Diane said. Juliette agreed, wondering if there was anything wrong with this woman. Agathe would notice. She laughed to herself. Two beautiful women vying with one another for the butcher Nazi’s attention.
Our Seas of Fear and Love Page 17