In This Hospitable Land (51 page)

Denise’s heart misgave her. When the postman left and the Bastides stepped back inside Denise stood stock-still in the hallway.

“It’s okay now,” Ernestine said gently, a look of concern creasing her brow. “You really don’t need to be afraid of the mailman anymore. He’s harmless, though he does talk too much.”

But Denise wasn’t afraid of the letter carrier. She was afraid of what her husband had to do with the Vignies and what it was doing to him.

Despite intense, concentrated labor, a strange air of peace prevailed at Le Tronc in the weeks following the Vignie killings. Max paid a quick visit to tell the Guins and Sauverins the camp at Le Crespin had been abandoned, its location having been disclosed to the Gestapo after all. The Maquis had established a new camp at Les Bouzedes and if the Guins had any more food to share or the Sauverins ever needed to go there…Nothing was said of the Vignies nor were the brothers asked to participate in another mission.

It wasn’t until October that the postman brought word of the final liquidation of the Warsaw ghetto that past June after a months-long uprising by incarcerated Jews that had shown Poland and the world that even the most wretched and abused could display the greatest courage and dignity, engaging in daring acts of defiance. The Sauverins and Guins also learned of that summer’s Allied victories in Africa, the subsequent invasion of Sicily, and the overthrow and arrest of Mussolini—all very encouraging if insufficiently close to home.

André continued his weekly visits to Le Salson, always a source of comfort and renewal. And a message finally arrived from Pastor Donadille freeing Alex to visit L’Herm.

That very evening Alex shouldered his rifle and went off to see his wife and daughter for the first time in seven long months. Pierre Guin had secreted them on the second floor of an old schoolhouse where they were reasonably comfortable but had to be extremely careful during school days not to show themselves or make any noise. It was a struggle for Geneviève and Katie only to speak in low whispers, always to duck beneath the windows and carefully to avoid stepping on floorboards they knew might squeak.

Traveling in daylight was risky so Geneviève could only see her son infrequently at night. Though they never spoke, it was helpful if never enough to gaze upon her sleeping Philippe.

Despite his isolation Philippe Sauverin was better off living with the large Ours family than his own. Everyone was told that Philippe was a cousin whose mother was from French-run Algeria. This made Philippe the only Sauverin not in hiding at all times. He was free to interact with the village children, to run and jump in the fresh air, and to play without restraint.

Alex wished he could see the boy too and decided to stay in L’Herm for a few days. Léon would curse him but he and Geneviève had so much lost time to make up.

André was startled to find himself with evenings alone. Glad of the opportunity to think and write, he was also surprised and delighted to discover among the Guins’ small stock of prized possessions
Roux the Bandit,
the first substantial modern literary work in Cévenol that Suzanne Maurel had strongly recommended three years earlier. Sometimes André had trouble deciphering the patois but Yvonne was always happy to help.

Despite Suzanne’s suggestion, André did not view himself and Chamson’s Roux as having much in common, but he could certainly appreciate their shared much-derided devotion to pacifism. This Roux (modeled perhaps on a member of Ernestine’s late husband’s family?) suffered far greater privations than André Sauverin, making André most grateful for the warmth of his little fire and the comparative comfort of his bed of fresh straw. And he found reassuring resonance in this passage about Roux’s criminal avoidance of military conscription during the Great War: “‘If Roux had wished to hide on a farm, the gendarmes would have known nothing about it, for nobody would have come to betray him…’”

But reading this book in the wake of the Vignie assassinations increased André’s confusion about his deeply held beliefs about the sacred nature of life and the foolish notion that killing of any sort can serve a greater good and lead to better times. These beliefs contrasted strongly with the obvious need to do something in the face of overt evil.

Over dinner one night the Guins told him how disgusted the Great War had made them and how horrified they had been throughout the thirties watching the present war coming. So many of the French had sworn they would never be drawn into yet another pointless death-dealing war. But none had done anything to prevent it.

Back in the barn, André was fascinated to discover a counterexample to Roux in Chamson’s novel—the pastor of Anduze: “He did not want to fight, either, because of conscientious reasons. But he went just the same, like the others, in order not to put himself in the wrong…without taking a gun.” André could not help but ponder deeply this model of thoughtfulness, bravery, fortitude, and sacrifice. Could he too be bold and determined enough to put himself in harm’s way in order to serve without picking up a weapon?

Yet he also couldn’t help thinking of the way Einstein had put aside his longstanding pacifism in the face of the despicable. André began to feel a strong desire to stand his ground and defend his adopted country, almost convinced that though the philosophy of the Quakers’
Peace Testimony
was assuredly worthy of the devotion of his life, there were still horrors, there was still evil, and that even the moral, peace-loving man must feel compelled and right to fight.

What a conundrum. If Max Maurel and all the other resistants jeopardized their lives to shelter and defend André and his family, how could André fail to join them? Yet he remained convinced any form of military action was wrong. Simultaneously he knew that when bloodshed inevitably got closer still, he would have to find a way to contribute to the Maquisards more meaningfully. Not to take substantive action might well mean allowing oneself and those one cared about most to be subjugated and possibly destroyed. On the other hand wasn’t there an internal contradiction between joining the fight to gain the freedom necessary to worship as driven by a spiritual insight and a spiritual insight that led one to reject war?

The resolution of André’s conflict was taken out of his hands after Alex finally returned. Two Milice showed up at Le Tronc and went to the farmhouse searching for Léon. Terrified, Yvonne let slip that her husband was out in the far fields working the sheep.

Laboring at Léon’s side André and Alex looked up and spotted the distinctive uniforms. Fearful for their lives they knew better than to bolt, for to run away would declare their status as renegades from the government. Instinctively they felt it was better to assert their innocence by stolidly laboring on as would any hard-bitten Cévenol farmer—like Léon.

Their instincts saved them. The Milice hadn’t come to capture them but to demand of Léon how much land he had and how much wheat that land could produce so that they would know how much would be available to feed the German army after the harvest. Though Léon underestimated by a substantial margin, his false answers satisfied the urban thugs. Profoundly ignorant of agriculture, they went away happy.

But now that the Milice had found their way to Le Tronc, André and Alex knew the time had come to leave and join the Resistance for the war’s duration. They would miss the Guins but they knew it could mean their lives if they didn’t move still more deeply underground.

The lookout recognized the Sauverins from Le Crespin and with a quick salute, let them pass. A little larger than Le Crespin, Les Bouzedes had its own layout and landscape but the buildings were similar and the faces mostly familiar.

The brothers made their way unremarked until Max raced over. “I wondered how long it would be before you came here!” he cried, embracing them and planting kisses on their cheeks.

The Sauverins explained what had brought them—Alex with bitterness, André with resignation.

“That’s bad,” Max acknowledged with a long, low whistle, leading the brothers to a big barn and sitting beside them on a sack of potatoes. “But I’m not surprised. We’ve had more and more reports of the Milice and the Gestapo going farther and farther afield to fulfill Germans needs. And now we have a new chief.”

“New chief?” Alex had barely gotten used to the old one.

“Roger. A man of much experience. You’ll feel comfortable in his hands.” Max leaned back and pointed at the brothers’ rifles. “Have you practiced?”

“With Léon’s help,” André replied tentatively. “But I’m still intimidated.”

Alex snorted. “That’s because shooting can kill.”

André shot Alex a fierce look.

“Let me take you to meet the new chief,” Max enthused.

After a few minutes’ wait the three were ushered into the new command post. Half-hidden by the large table that served as his desk, tall, thin Roger Boudon was about thirty-five years of age. His angular face showed signs of strain and his two-day growth of brown beard made him look worn. Two strong lines creased his brow and the beginnings of small crow’s-feet were visible at the corners of his piercing eyes. As he rose to shake the Sauverins’ hands they could see the pistol he wore in the thick leather belt strapped around his narrow waist.

After Max’s rapid-fire detailing of the Sauverins’ background and previous involvement with the Resistance, the chief welcomed them warmly to Les Bouzedes. Then he excused himself and asked Max to show them to their new quarters: a cramped room in one of the outbuildings.

This will do,
André told himself, setting his little sack down on one of the two slender cots,
though it makes the Guins’ barn seem like a mansion.

Roger Boudon had brought a new level of organization and discipline to these Maquisards. The camp’s inhabitants were divided into three teams charged with different responsibilities: the maintenance team gathered firewood and potable water, cleared and cleaned and cooked; the security team manned guard posts and ran perimeter patrols; the military instruction team dealt with guerrilla tactics, group combat, and the study of arms and explosives. Working with Max, the instruction team also saw to first aid and safety procedures.

There had been a remarkable increase in the number of weapons available. A recent raid on a nearby gendarmerie had yielded a startling array: American Remington, French Hotchkiss, German Mauser, and assorted English rifles; Sten guns; hand grenades.

Food supplies remained problematic although local peasants and farmers and the townspeople of Vialas provided as much as they could. Whatever food the Maquis obtained was prepared amidst the chestnut trees, decreasing the chance of smoke from cooking fires being noticeable by German spy planes.

Everyone knew to go into hiding under the chestnut trees when a plane passed overhead. The broad branches and big leaves provided excellent cover.

André and Alex quickly learned the daily routine.