Maquis L 4

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June 22, 1940

Lucon, France

Bar Le Chene Vert

The church bells from the cathedral across the square had finally stopped tolling. Jean-Luc tuned the bars radio to the BBC, maybe they would have some better news.

"...our expeditionary forces continue to fight a delaying battle, hoping to make it to the coasts. We have just received word that the French government has officially surrendered to Nazi Germany. It is as yet unclear what will happen with the formidable French fleet in the Mediterannean. In Northhampshire, the Lord of the Exchequer has proclaimed..."

"Merde!" Jean-Luc wept as he turned the radio off with his good hand. There wasn't a dry face in the bar. How could it be true. He'd helped hold the Boche off for three years before losing half of his left hand in the last go with them. Now it was over in a matter of weeks? Impossible, but true.

Now there was little to do but drink. "Gaston," he called to the serving boy, "roll up a keg of pinot. We're going to need a lot of it to drown all our sorrows."

He filled every ones glasses to the rim then lifted his up as a real old timer, from the '70-'71 war proposed the toast, "Liberte, egalite, fraternite!"

 

Wülfgang spitted on the floor as the news were broadcasted.

"Cowards. Surrendering while the troops are still out and fighting against the Germans! Now that the opposition is all but gone, they will start to plunder your lands, take your riches! Disgusting..."

He downed his cheap beer and checked his inner pocket of his vest. The wz35 was still there, all was fine. He put on his hat and took out a German cigar, looted from an enemy officer he shot back in Poland, and lighted one up.

"So, anyone have an idea what to do?"

 

Jean-Luc filled up the stranger's glass, along with several others. "Get drunk," he said in answer to the young man's question. "What else is there to do?"

Getting drunk was always a good way to deal with life's trials, in his very experienced opinion.

 

The glass of gin sliped from his had a fell to the floor.
James couldn't belive it... first Poland, and now France. The Germans had won every major battle there was to win and still pushed forward.

There was no hope of him geting home now, not untill the end of the war. What the hell am I going to do now?

Sighing, he raised his glass along with the Barkeeper "Liberte, egalite, fraternite!"

 

Mother Marie Therese walked solemnly through the short tunnel that lead from the Convent to the Girls' school. Her thoughts were on the news of the French surrender. It was a sad day for her country and her mind went to her family in the south and especially her brother who was a soldier in the French Army.

As she entered the school she gave herself a little shake. At the moment all she could do was tend to her duties and see that things ran as smoothly as possible. She sensed the fear and tension from her Sisters and the children. She lifted her head and smiled at them.

"The Lord will watch over us. Now go about your studies." Her firm but gentle tones reassured them somewhat and they went to their classrooms.

 

Rene accepted the drink from Jean-Luc with a slight smile. He expected this day to come. The Germans were going to win. "I'm already drunk, there is no getting drunk for me." He said cheerfully to Jean.

He knew before to long he'd be really drunk and more than likely get into another fight. Jean was forgiving to allow him to continue drinking here.

"Liberte, egalite, fraternite." He said quietly as he downed another sip of ale.

 

Wülfgang accepted the drink with a nod and a forced smile.

"The Germans are coming we all know that. They will attack the Commonwealth, it's a given, but they need this city for the railroad. The cowards in Paris may have been defeated, but we cannot let them win this war. You, I, and everyone else that is not a spieprzony Nazi or Bolshevik will be arrested, there is no doubt of that. The Axis-Soviet alliance will nigh undefeatable if they take England!"

He downed the drink and leaned forward to the bartender, whispering something as he watched for any possible German spies.

"I have managed to get my hands on a rifle and I am willing to fight them. Do you know if the Force Francaise de l'Interier have a cell located here in Lucon? If I could join up with them, I would be able to do far more than sit in here on my ass and shoot nothing but curses upon the German warmachine headed towards us in this very moment."

 

Jean-Luc looked at the stranger. He saw something in the man's eye that he felt he could trust.

"That's a good question. I don't rightly know. I was just a sergeant the last time around, before I ended up in Karlsruhe. But Rene over there, he was in the intelligence corps, he'd be the one to ask."

He caught Rene's eye and motioned for him to come over. He also saw another young stranger looking melancholy. Was he a German spy? Didn't look lie it, but what did that mean?

 

Rene stumbled over to where Jean and a young man were talking. "What do you need?" He said with his crooked smile and spilling a bit of ale.

 

James saw the Bartender was looking at him oddly. While he relised he was a bit out of place, it was no more then everyone else in the building.

He drained what was left in his glass, headed over to the bar and sat down next to the man smoking a cigar.

"I think I'll have another gin. Lord knows I need it after that. Say... you're polish arn't you?" he said the man with the cigar

"Normaly I wouldn't ask, but you accent your french. I'm English myself. Probably going to get me shot in a few weeks, but I'm still proud of it. Nice hat by the way."

 

Wülfgang nodded at both Rene and James. He had heard about James when the Englishman first arrived here, only a few weeks after Wülfgang himself.

"Ahh, it is you that's Captain Alixe, right? Heard you got shot down not far from where my unit were stationed, good to see you made it here alive. The name is Sergeant Rutkowski, or The Winter Wülf if you'd rather call me that. Good that you came here, because I was just about to talk with monsieur Rene here about something that you might be interested as well..."

He then turned to Rene, offering a cigar from his box with the German insigna on it.

"The owner here tells me you used to be in the intelligence corps, is that correct? Because, we got a real situation here. The Germans have taken Paris, the army is in disorder, mister Alixe here is going to be shot when the Krauts arrive and most likely, so will I. And to be honest, if the bartender is telling the truth, you are probably going to be sent to a prison camp as well when they find you out."

He downed his glass in one sweep and removed his hat, a small, brown cap of no particular design. He drew his gun from his inner pocket and placed it on the table, putting the cap above it to cover it.

"I am ready to fight them back, I am ready to give them hell when this city is taken over. The garrison here will be of no use, we will be forced to fight on our terms, in our backyard. As of now, I only have weapons for myself, but I might be able to convince the local commander to supply us with a few rifles and some ammunition before the Germans attack."

He motioned to Jean-Luc to fill his glass again while he let the two strangers consider the proposal, the formation of a local cell of the Force Francaise de l'Interier.

 

Ademaro looked at his new orders, some hot shot was setting up office in a little town in France. It was close to rail road and the ports so it was a perfect spot to set up. His orders where to be this captains personal sniper, who's ever heard of such of a stupid thing. He was being wasted n theis war by sitting on the top of his house or a wharehouse. He groaned, but at least he has a small chance of being shot. He picked up his rifle, and slung it over his shoulder, he ran with the moving motorcade. He jumped in the back of a flatbed full of others. It would be a long drive, he hoped his ass could last that long.

 

Jean-Luc felt his heart racing when the young man spoke and laid his gun on the table. In his experience, there was one high better than being legally drunk all the time: Getting shot at and shooting back and living to tell about it. He was way to old to be in the active army this time around, and with his three lower left fingers gone he wasn't even in the reserves, but it looked like things might be changing fairly soon.

He looked in Rene's eyes and could see the hunter's grin in them too. Then to the two young strangers, "If what you say is true, it's a good thing you two happened to be in my bar. At my father's farmstead I've got a pretty big wine cellar dug into a hill. And I've got three other smaller ones at my other vineyards scattered around the countryside. Of course they're not Grand Vins, but they keep the bar well supplied with house red, and a passable white if I say so myself. Plus, I know every farmer from Marans to La Roche sur Yon, plus most of the paths and canals to get to them. I don't like dealing with middle men when buying my smoked hams for the bistro. So, if we need to hide you two, or even you Rene, we'll have no problem to do that."

"But getting some decent weapons is another thing. At the house I've got dad's old shotgun, but that isn't much good. See what you can get from the garrison here. I've got five cases of Cognac in the basement if you need something for bribes."

 

"Well I'm in. Wasn't keen on standing around to be honest. I even have my pistol. So... how do we start off? I don't know about you but I'v never done this before.

Who would be willing to support us? What position is the police going to be in? Is there anyone else in the village willing to fight againced Germany? More importantly, how are we going to get supplies?"

[ January 30, 2007, 00:07: Message edited by: The Magister ]

 

After the evening meal the Sisters gathered for recreation. The conversation focused on the surrender to Germany. Mother Marie Therese remained quiet and calm. She pushed her own worries to the back of her mind. Her main concern was to alleviate the worries of her little flock. It was important to maintain a normal schedule. The attitude of the Sisters would be quickly assimilated by the children in the school.

What ever the future held she would face it with the same calm dignity she brought to everything.

 

"The FFI will support us, but in the few times I've dealt with them they come to me." Rene says quietly. Usually when they aren't intelligent to read they're own maps or codes."

"I still have most of my military stuff. My pistol and my knowledge is really the most important stuff."

 

"Well, let's hope they get here before the Germans do," Jean-Luc said. After that, the talk turned to the last war, shellings and trenches and how useful the entrenching tool was in crushing a man's head, and how it was possible that the Germans had managed in a few weeks what four years didn't give them the last time around. Everybody did their best to drown their sorrows, and Jean-Luc closed the bar around four in the morning.

Two days later, pretty much the same group of people were sitting in the bar, listening to the reports of the English forces retreating towards Dunkirk, drinking the usual, and beating the dead horse of the supposed might of the French army, when two strangers walked in.

One was definitely French, basque beret, big nose, and dark eyes making him stand out, the other quite the proper Englishman, though dressed in stained leather traveling clothes. They looked around the bar. The French man came up to the bar and ordered a glass of red, the English man went over to James the English pilot.

The French man looked at Jean-Luc's missing left fingers. "Mauser?" he asked.

"No, shrapnel from a 75. Gave me an interesting scar along my belly and side that has changed as my belly grew. I was a lot skinnier back then." Jean-Luc answered.

"Can you vouch for the people in the bar?" he asked.

"Sure," Jean-Luc said.

"Good." He nodded to the English man.

The English man sat down at Jame's table. "Pardon me lad. I'm not sure if you remember me, but I was on your plane right at the beginning of the fight. I think it was your mission to drop supplies south of Cracow, you let me jump out a little before hand. Apparently you've had a bit of bad luck, but not too bad, as you're alive, and I've ran into you. I'm Major Willowby, SOE, and that over there is Robert, FFI."

That got pretty much everyone's attention. Robert continued. "The Germans are expected to arrive in Lucon in two to three days. They'll probably occupy it with at least a company, maybe a regiment. Right now, we have no FFI force in the area, but we want one, beings as Lucon is ideally suited, next to the marshes and on the rail line, for getting pilots out and information and supplies in. Major Willowby and I, among others, are racing the Germans down the Atlantic coast, setting up cells in key locations. We've got an hour before we need to move south to La Rochelle. We can give you a two-way radio, five Sten guns, 20 magazines for them, and 10 Mills grenades. Be advised, you will be taking your lives into your hands, but know that is better than leaving them in to the mercy of the Germans. We'll wait outside while you discuss it among yourselves."

On the way out Robert whispered to Jean-Luc, "If any of these people need to be disposed of, just give me a nod."

 

Wülfgang pondered the proposition for a minute. He were to either sit around and wait to be taken to one of the prisoner camps, or he would go into hiding, fighting the Germans in a land foreign to both of them. Communications with the local garrison had failed, they ran to the forest just the day before and took most salvagable with them in the process.

He knew what had to be done, he knew that he were to die on his feet, not on his back.

"Men, we cannot stay here and wait for them to execute us all. We must fight them back! They are strangers to France, and if they threaten your lands as they have with mine, slaughtering citizens by the hundreds as they took the cities, you must fight back! I, for one, will fight with the resistance, and I hope you will join me!"

He donned his cap and double-checked his gun. The rifle with the ammo was hidden in a pile of hay only a hundred meters from here in case the Germans came before their suggested timeframe. He left the building, collected his rifle, and met up with the Frenchman and the Englishman.

"Sergeant Wülfgang Rutkowski of the Polish 27th Infantry Division reporting in, sirs."

 

James did remember Willowby. They had talked a bit before hand, and James had felt him a good man.

James didn't even have to think about it realy. He was not just going to lay down and die, while others suffered darn it! Nor did he intend to rot in a Germany Prison Camp for years.
He followed Wülfgang outside.

"Gentalmen, you have my support. Captain James Alixe of the RAF reporting for duty."

 

One of the lay sisters approached Mother M. Theses and spoke quietly to her. She rose and went to the back door of the convent kitchen where a local woman awaited her. Madame Duval was instrumental in getting local supplies to the sisters

"Madame Duval, what brings you here so late?"

"I wanted to speak to you private. Word has it the Germans are headed here. They'll be scouring the country for whatever they can get. My family has lived here forever and I know things you might not. Wanted to show you something in the storage area under the Convent."

Madame Duval lead her down into the lower storage area and to a back area. She studied the wall a bit then pushed one of the bricks. With a creaking and groaning the wall moved part way open.

"Still works, need some fixing and oiling but this leads to the old smuggler's tunnels and caves. We can hide things here. Most folk have forgotten all about it." She smiles and shrugs. "Ever wonder how my family got to be so comfortably off? We should keep this as quiet as possible. The fewer who know the better." She presses the brick again and the wall closes showing no sign of an entrance way.

They return upstairs, say good night and return to their respective occupations. The next day Mother sets people to work cleaning and straightening the down stairs area ostensibly to check what supplies they have and their condition.