Never Turn Back

by Lorna Lee

  “Maybe you should get another job, like Tante Anna…” Jeannine started swinging her legs, kicking style.

  “Maybe you should be more grateful. I think we’ve rested enough. It’s time to go back to your precious Tante Anna.” Meri got up from the bench. Without turning to see if her daughter was following, she began walking. I won’t forget this. I work so hard and what does she notice? My hands! Are all children so ungrateful?

  Jeannine called to her, “Mamma, wait! Can…I mean may we stop for some bon-bons?”

  Meri told her no.

  §

  In May, 1939, Ilsa joyfully announced that her husband, Ernst, would be coming for a short visit. News of his arrival took both Madame and Monsieur by surprise. Ernst had vanished since the Nazi Party gained control in Germany. Ilsa only rarely heard from him, and the news was mainly about escalating war plans of which he was a central part. He never disclosed details, or so Ilsa said during mealtime conversations.

  Meri only knew about the visit through eavesdropping on conversations and direct orders from Madame as they related to any additions to her daily duties while he resided with them. From what Meri could remember, the man had not seen his children in six years. Is this typical for German fathers? At least my Papa came home every few months.

  Karla, now six, seemed more nervous than excited to meet her father, having only heard stories about him from her mother. Kurt, on the other hand, remembered him, missed him, and adored him. The boy went crazy with soldierly preparations to impress his idol. He insisted on new boots and a new “uniform.” Ilsa even sewed a swastika on an armband for him to wear.

  “Must he wear the vile thing in our home?” Monsieur shook his head as the now ten-year-old boy marched through the dining room, showing off his new military clothes and posture.

  “What thing?” Madame sniped.

  If snakes could talk, they would sound like Madame Meri thought as she cleared the table.

  “You know very well what I mean.” Monsieur threw his napkin down on his plate.

  Madame patted the corner of her mouth with her napkin and gently placed it on the table. “The symbol is as important to the boy, as it is to his father. Need I remind you they are guests in our home, Michel?” Madame nodded to Ilsa, who sat smiling at her Nazi soldier son.

  “What harm can a little symbol of his father’s military and political loyalty do? The poor boy hasn’t seen his Papa in nearly six years.” Ilsa had grown quite comfortable defending herself with her sister’s support.

  “Six years. You have been our guests for six years. An unusual arrangement. Not once have you gone back to your home so your children could see their father. Why is that, Ilsa?”

  Meri made slow work of clearing the table. She wanted to hear Ilsa’s answer, and she loved the rare moments when Monsieur stood up for himself.

  Ilsa blushed. Before she could answer, Greta came to her defense; it was a pattern the two women had perfected. “Michel! She is my sister. How dare you interrogate her? You would appreciate the same kindness toward me in her home if you were involved in a war here in France. Ernst has his reasons for keeping his family here. Perhaps he wishes to keep them safe.” Her rapid fire logic disarmed him. His shoulders dropped; his eyes fell to his lap.

  “Good,” Madame continued, “We shall prepare for Ernst’s arrival and welcome him as we would any family member. I don’t want to hear any further objections to either Hitler or the Nazi Party. This will be a pleasant visit for both Ilsa and her husband. It is the least we can do.” Madame was, as usual, in full control. “Meri, why are you taking so long clearing this table? Philippe must have our coffee and dessert ready.”

  Meri jumped. “Oui, Madame. Pardon, Madame.”

  Monsieur got up from the table. “Excuse me, Gretta. Ilsa. I am quite full. I have accounts to balance before tomorrow. If you need me, which I doubt, I will be in my study.”

  “As you wish.” Madame shrugged and glanced at Ilsa, who mimicked her. Meri wondered if these two sisters had driven their father insane.

  On a balmy day in late May, Ernst Freels appeared at the Dorval residence and welcomed his family back into his life. Meri was told that he planned on staying for five days and meals would have to be planned accordingly. Child care arrangements would be made after Ernst arrived; it would be up to him how much time he wanted to spend with his children.

  The reunion was stiff and military formal, or so Meri thought. Kurt showed the most enthusiasm, which he squelched with a mighty effort deserving of some kind of Medal of Honor. Herr Freels was an impressive sight in his fully decorated Nazi uniform and with his rigid demeanor. Everyone greeting him, including little Karla, stood taller in his presence. The civilians at the Dorval residence gradually allowed themselves to relax only after he took off his officer’s cap and jacket. Eventually, Meri noticed smiling and brief hugs. This is an odd way to greet long-separated family members. Eh! They’re German.

  Ernst became the center of attention. Greta and Ilsa gawked at him in dumb-struck awe. Madame could not seem to find the voice to order Meri to serve refreshments, so Meri took it upon herself to provide a tray of sparkling lemonade and an assortment of sweet, buttery biscuits that she and Philippe had been baking all morning.

  “Merci, Meri.” Monsieur smiled as Meri set the tray on the low table in the center of the parlor.

  As Meri turned to leave, Madame found her voice. “Meri. Stay. The children may need you.”

  “Oui. Madame.” Meri curtsied and stood off in a corner of the room. Good! I can watch what happens. It’s so much easier than standing at the door, straining to listen in.

  Herr Freels patted Karla on the head, but did not seem to know what else to do with her. Karla seemed equally uncomfortable, turning to Meri for cues. Meri curtsied slightly and then nodded toward Karla’s father. The little girl’s eyes brightened. She curtsied in front of her father. He laughed and hugged her. The Mesdames clapped their hands. Karla giggled and smiled a grin filled with six-year-old appreciation…for Meri. I hope they didn’t notice, especially Madame Freels.

  Kurt fidgeted as he stood at attention, waiting for his father to notice him. Ernst finally did and Kurt was not disappointed. “My little man! You make a father proud.” He saluted in the Nazi heel-click, arm-outstretched way. Kurt returned the salute he had obviously been practicing. “One day very soon, my son, you will be ready for Hilter’s Youth. Are you ready to serve your country?” Herr Freels spoke more to his wife than son.

  “Ja!” Kurt nearly jumped off the floor.

  Madame Freels’ expression was difficult to read. Meri guessed a terrified mother hid behind the woman’s shaking smile.

  “Well, Ilsa, what would you think of our Kurt serving our Führer?” Ernst’s eyes were wolf’s eyes—cold and thirsty for blood.

  Ilsa swayed ever so slightly. Madame Dorval reached to support the small of her back. Putting her hand over her throat as if to protect it, she answered her husband, “I would be proud…of course.” I’m not convinced, and I doubt anyone in the room is, either.

  “Good! I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Now children, leave the adults. We must discuss issues not concerning you.” Meri escorted the children out of the room and closed the door behind them.

  Later, at dinner, Meri discovered at least some of their adults-only discussion. She painstakingly served and cleared the meal to get as much information as possible. Ernst spoke of an impending war between Germany and France. He was sure an attack by German forces would happen before the year was out. To protect themselves, the Dorvals and his family must cooperate in every way with the Germans once they succeeded in winning the war and claiming France as their own. Ernst would protect them during the occupation because they were his family and they would be acting as agents of the German state in occupied France.

  Meri watched Monsieur carefully as these details were discussed among the Germans. He was silent and stony. His movements stiff, he barely ate. The few comments
he made to the discourse were superficial and insincere. Ilsa shook so much that she made a clattering sound with her utensils against her plate. Madame stared at Monsieur with an intensity that gave Meri goose bumps. It’s a wonder anyone is eating anything at this meal. I’m feeling sick just being in this room. Only Herr Freels and Madame Dorval ate robustly.

  The visit lasted only three days. Ernst seemed to tire of his family and became anxious to return to his duties for his Führer and the Third Reich. Before he left, he reminded them of what they needed to do when France fell to Germany. Monsieur could not keep silent any longer. “Perhaps Germany will not prevail.”

  Ernst glowered at his brother-in-law with his wolf-eyes narrowed. “Careful Michel. Talk against the obvious victor will get you and your family killed. Trust me. You are much safer being a friend of the Third Reich.” Then Ernst smiled.

  “You stored your wife and children in France for six years with us, and now you threaten us with your German superiority? Your arrogance has no bounds!” Greta pulled on Michel’s arm. He shook her loose.

  Ernst remained calm. “You are right, Michel. You hosted my wife and children as guests in your home for many years. I’m grateful you took in my family—your family—so they would not be alone while I performed my duty for my country. My concern, however, continues to lie with you. I came here to tell you what you need to do to protect yourself and our families. Ignore me if you wish. France is a free country…for now. When it is no longer free, however, I can only assure your safety if you do as I instructed. If you are too proud to save the lives of those living under your roof, then their lives are on your conscience, not mine.” He put on his black visor cap and walked out of the front door. Just as he was about to close the door, he stopped. Turning his head over his shoulder, he said with a broad smile on his face, “I will be keeping a careful eye on this household, as will my men, when France becomes a German state. You showed your true colors, Michel. Danke.” He closed the door.

  Madame, a small woman, spun her husband around to face her. “I told you to keep your mouth shut! Do you have any idea of what you have done? They will be watching us,” she screeched, her voice as unnerving as a blaring siren.

  “Greta! Calm down. He talks as if Germany has already won a war that has not even happened. His head is full of crazy Hitler propaganda. He even sounds like Hitler. If you ask me, your sister and the children are better off with us than with him.”

  Meri stood well away from her employers, holding Soldat whose ears were flattened against his head. She witnessed Herr Freels’ departure and it frightened her. Perhaps this Nazi couldn’t predict the future. But if he can, I have a half-Jewish girl who will be in danger. And Monsieur just made us a “suspicious” household. Mon Dieu! “Soldat,” she said as she patted his big head, “I’m not feeling good about this. What about you?” The dog nuzzled her leg and whined.

  §

  On September 3, 1939—approximately three months after Herr Freels visit to the Dorval residence—the war between Germany and France officially began. Everyone in the household had anxieties for different reasons. Kurt’s impatience to become a “real” soldier so he could fight for Germany alongside his father, made him edgy. Karla, generally a happy girl, became agitated by all of the moodiness in the household. Ilsa became physically sick with constant worrying about the safety of her husband and the possibility of her son being sent to Germany to be a boy soldier in the very real Hitler Youth program. Madame fretted about her sister’s state of mind and what might happen to her household should Germans win the war. She wanted to be perceived as a “good” German, beyond all suspicion of any French allegiance. Monsieur read the newspaper and listened to the radio, rooting for the French as privately as he could but vowed to his wife and Ilsa that he would cooperate with the Germans should “the worse come to pass.” Philippe, Elise, Claire, and the rest of the staff were nervous about the effect of war on their jobs and lives. They also worried about friends, who they knew were Jewish. Meri agonized constantly about Jeannine. Does she look Jewish? Are Annabelle and Simon Jewish? If the Germans decide to kill us all because Herr Freels tells them to, what will happen to my daughter?

  The war lasted less than a year. On June 22, 1940—three weeks from Jeannine’s seventh birthday—France conceded to Germany and an armistice was declared. Germany divided France into two territories: free and occupied. Germany occupied the entire coastline and the northern portion of France, including Paris. Meri was present when the German army entered Paris. Many Parisians came to watch. The Dorvals were instructed to be there for the German’s arrival and Meri had to attend to watch the children. Kurt was dressed in his Nazi uniform and stood in a Nazi salute for the duration of the parade-like event. Most of the on-lookers watched with looks of awe or disbelief. A few people’s faces showed open hatred. Only a brave few.

  Soon after the occupation, two kinds of posters popped up all over the city—on lamp posts, street signs, and the sides of buildings. One poster showed handsome German soldiers helping children and older people. They illustrated the trustworthiness and kindness of the occupiers. The other poster displayed ugly images of Jews, displaying them as monsters, thieves, and thugs.

  Other changes to the Paris landscape happened, too. German signs replaced French street signs. The soldiers and their commanders needed places to live and work. They confiscated hotels and private homes, simply evicting the French owners or taking them as prisoners if they were unwilling to leave voluntarily. The Germans, with the help of the French police, severely restricted travel and imposed curfews. To be safe, anyone walking or traveling had to carry papers to prove their identity, citizenship, and work status. The Germans, or the French police working with the Germans, could stop and question anyone at any time for any reason. They decided what to do with the person or people questioned—release them or imprison them—without need for justification. There was no appeal process.

  Meri limited her visits to Jeannine to once a month, each visit seeming more precious because she did not know if she would be stopped or if the Barouche residence had been targeted again. Going to the movies was their only activity. Most movie theaters remained open in Paris during the occupation, a fact for which Meri was grateful. In the dark theatre, each of them was swept away for a little while. Jeannine could leave her hum-drum life behind and have a proper adventure; Meri found a way to push her worries to the back of her mind, become invisible, relax, and even sometimes laugh.

  Inevitably, Jeannine would say or ask something on the way home that would hurtle them back to reality. Meri understood her seven-year-old did not intend to ruin their good mood. I have an unnaturally curious daughter, Meri mused. That’s something my Papa said about me.

  “Mamma, where’s my Papa?” Jeannine asked as she took great caution not to step on any cracks in the sidewalk.

  Meri had evaded this question on a few occasions when Jeannine got confused and thought Silent Simon was her father. To a four-year-old, saying her real father had gone “far away” seemed to be a satisfactory answer. Now she wanted more specific answers. “He’s a soldier, Jeannine. He’s fighting in the war with Germany.”

  Jeannine stopped walking and stared up at her mother. “Really? Does he have a gun and kill people like Tante Anna says the German soldiers do?”

  Meri shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  “Do you ever see him? Has he ever seen me?”

  “Non. He left to go fight somewhere far away before you were born. I haven’t seen him since he left. I don’t even know if he’s still alive…” This is so close to the truth. Mon Dieu! I’m telling the truth for once.

  “Do you ever get lonely? The wife in the movie always had her husband around.”

  “Oui and look what trouble he caused her.” Meri smiled. “I get lonely sometimes, but then I come and see you and, voila! my loneliness disappears. I don’t need a husband, Jeannine. He would just get in the way.”

  Jeannine looked puzzled.


  “Like the man in the movie. He made his wife angry many times.” Meri explained to her confused daughter.

  “He was a troublemaker.” Jeannine giggled. “Do all men make trouble for women, Mamma?”

  “Oui. I think almost all men are troublemakers.” She grabbed her daughter’s hand and they kept walking toward Jeannine’s home. Meri quickened her step, keenly aware of the danger of being on the streets.

  After a few minutes of silent walking, Jeannine asked, “Do you think my troublemaker father will ever come home?”

  “Probably not.”

  “That’s okay, right?”

  Meri nodded.

  When they arrived at their destination, Meri quickly hid Jeannine behind her. They were several yards away from the entrance to the Barouche’s home. Annabelle was standing outside crying while tugging on the sleeve of a very young, French police officer. She kept repeating, “Please, please, please.”

  He tried to shake her off. Gently at first, then he took the butt of his rifle and jammed it into her shoulder. She collapsed onto the cobblestones outside her doorway.

  Meri gasped. She grabbed her daughter and jumped from the sidewalk, hiding behind nearby low shrubs. “Jeannine. Be very quiet. No matter what you hear or see, don’t make a sound. Do you understand?” Meri whispered with a mighty force. Meri had used the “mean whisper” before, so Jeannine understood her Mamma was serious. Each of them poked their head up to watch what happened next.

  Two older, larger men, one in a German SS uniform and the other a French police officer, dragged Simon out of the house. For the first time, Simon was not silent. “Non! I haven’t done anything! I’m French! This is my home! You can’t do this! Non! Non! Non!” He continued protesting until they forced him into a police van with many other men shouting similar sentiments. As the vehicle drove away, Meri could hear someone shouting, “This is not the France I know and love!”