Churchill's Secret Agent

by Max Ciampoli

  “Why yes, of course.”

  “Do you think you’ll be staying any length of time with us? I ask because I have a pension that goes directly to my bank owing to my being widowed during the war. I would like to go get some money to pay you for your work. I really cannot accept that you work without getting paid.”

  “I’d like to stay for a while, if you don’t mind. I missed meeting some friends because of the German patrols all over the place. If it’s all right with you, I would like to stay three or four days.”

  Suddenly, she became very emotional. Her face turned red. She exploded, “But I don’t want you to leave at all!”

  I tried to calm her down. “Perhaps I can stay longer, but I cannot promise how long. I’ll chop the wood later this morning. I’ll fix all the fences. I’ll try to stay till the end of winter, but I really cannot say right now. I simply do not know.”

  She seemed calmed by the possibility of a prolonged stay. “I’m going to bed now. Good night, Michel. I’ll see you at breakfast,” she said. I wished her a good night. I had noticed the desperation in her reactions. Her age, raising her boy alone, the responsibility of the farm, losing all her loved ones—it had all been too much for her. While considering all her difficulties, I eventually fell asleep.

  As she said, the rooster crowed before daybreak, but I was already up. I was washed, dressed, and outside cutting wood when she came to the door. “Good morning, Michel. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, I did. And you?” I asked.

  “No, not really,” she said. “I could hardly wait to talk to you again this morning. I just kept thinking and thinking and couldn’t fall asleep. You’re such a good listener.”

  “I’ve been wondering, how is it that the Germans didn’t take your horses?”

  “As good fortune would have it, they were out on the range, and the Germans never saw them.”

  “You were lucky.”

  “I know, and I’m grateful,” she said. “My husband and I shared some wonderful times together on horseback. It brings back good memories just to see them.”

  “Now, come on inside,” she said. “I’ve made an omelette for you with duck eggs, potatoes, and onions.”

  After breakfast, I went back outside to finish cutting wood. After neatly piling it up, I began repairing and putting the fences up again. It took the entire day to make new posts and dig new holes to place them in. I didn’t stop to eat lunch. I worked until three in the afternoon. Then I went into the house to take a shower and change my clothes. I put on my brown suit and opened the door to go outside. Suddenly, I heard sobbing from behind me. I turned and saw Emma in tears. She screamed, “You’re leaving! You’re leaving!”

  I walked over to her and took her by the shoulders. “No, no, I’m not leaving. I had nothing else that was clean to put on. That’s all. I didn’t want to put on your father-in-law’s uniforms.”

  “Oh,” she said, apparently relieved, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Go into the storage room. I’m sure you’ll find everything you need.”

  As I went to get the key for the back of the house, I said to her, “Promise me that you’ll calm down.” She looked into my eyes and said, “Swear to me that you’re not leaving today.” I returned her gaze and said, “I swear.”

  I went to the back of the house and found the storage room. I found several pairs of pants, shirts, socks, and sweaters. Then, I went back to the kitchen. “Tomorrow, I’ll take care of your horses’ hooves,” I said. “Then I would like to take a ride through the woods and in the immediate area to get an idea of where the roads and paths are located.”

  She was heating up the rabbit stew for an early dinner. I’m sure she knew I hadn’t eaten lunch and would be hungry. She poured me a glass of goat’s milk to go with it. I devoured the meal. As soon as I finished, I felt extremely tired. “Do you mind if I lie down on the bed?”

  “Please do,” she said.

  I slept through the night till morning. I found Emma next to me in her bed. I was careful not to wake her when I got up. I washed and dressed. Then I heard her boy chattering to himself, so I went to his room to let him know I was going to heat a bottle of pabulum for him. When I came back, the sweet little boy was smiling as usual. I gave him the bottle and went out to trim the horses’ hooves and begin working on the fence again.

  After a couple of hours, I took a break and walked around to the front of the father-in-law’s house. The day before, I had entered through the connecting door. From the front, the building was enormous. I had had no idea just how big it was from the little bit I had seen inside. There were other structures as well. The stables were about a hundred meters long. They included a dairy barn with hay storage above and a ramp for taking the feed up to the second floor. This was clearly two properties.

  After seeing this obvious wealth, I did not understand. This was no ordinary farm. I went back to the house to ask Emma about it. She was still in bed. It must have been a treat for her to not be awakened by her son early in the morning. She heard me come in and called out, “Come in. Come in.” I entered the bedroom.

  “You must have taken care of my son. Thank you. Did you sleep well?”

  I smiled at her. “I slept very well. And you?”

  Obviously rested, she said, “I slept quite well, too.”

  I decided to broach the subject right away. “I took a walk around. This is no ordinary farm, Emma.”

  She responded, “Ah, yes, well, why don’t you go sit down on the sofa? I’ll put on my robe and we can sit and talk.” I went and sat down, and she joined me right away.

  “My father-in-law bought the properties in 1935. He was a career officer in the military. He had inherited huge sums of money from his uncles and then from his father. The property includes about eight or nine hundred acres. I’m not exactly sure. Then he built this house for his son, who was the blacksmith of the village. When he learned that I was pregnant, he insisted that his son marry me. For our wedding gift, he put both parts of the property in both of our names. This part of the property has always been used to grow potatoes and wheat. There is a sharecropper who does the work and takes sixty-five percent. He pays me the rest in crops and money. So, now you know the whole story.”

  Changing the subject, she said, “I want to get to the village so that I can take some money out of the bank to pay you for your work. Now that I know you a little better, I want to confide in you that I need some guidance. This property is a big responsibility. I know very little about business or about life in general. You see, I really need your assistance. I don’t want you to leave. If you have to, I understand, but I ask you to return when you can. I trust you and pray that you will help my son and me.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Let’s get started right away. I need a pencil and some paper.” She jumped up and brought them to me. I began to sketch and draw some plans. We spent several hours working on the project and discussing potential sources of income.

  “If I cannot come back, I want you to follow this line of planning, which will take care of you and your son for your whole life. If I can, after the war is over, I will come back to help you for a time.”

  “Now, let’s go saddle up the horses and take a ride. I took care of their feet early this morning. Do you have a backpack?” I asked. She nodded. “Bring it to me. I am going to cut two holes in it for your son’s legs and put him on my back. I want you to show me the extent of the property before it gets dark. I’ll have a better idea of what we are working with if I see it with my own eyes.”

  She was excited. “This is wonderful,” she said, “but first you must have something to eat.”

  “No,” I replied, “we must get back before it gets dark. Get dressed and get your son ready. Take some bread and cheese for us and whatever you need for the boy.” While she was getting ready, I cut two holes in the backpack and saddled the horses. When they came out, I put the backpack on and told her to put him in. We mounted our horses and left for our tour
of the property. When we returned, it was almost dark.

  The following morning, the boy didn’t wake either of us up. We had all been affected by the wonderful, long horseback ride, and we all slept late. We ate breakfast together and then walked over to her father-in-law’s house.

  First, we entered his office. There was an amazing stillness in the room. One could picture him there, a learned man, reading one of his leather-bound books in the comfortable armchair. The war had canceled his retirement and was responsible for his premature death.

  “Here is a portrait of my father-in-law. He looks very proud, don’t you think? Look at all the medals on his uniform,” she pointed out. “Just after his son and I were married, he shared with me that he had long looked forward to the peace that he would enjoy here during his retirement. His days were cut short, right here in this house,” she said sadly.

  I really liked the house. “The Spanish brick gives the building an austere façade,” I said, “yet somehow it welcomes you. The exterior contrasts with the sweet harmony of this beautiful room. Anyone would be surprised to discover such a beautiful library in such a remote region. Look at these rare editions!” On several glassed-in shelves were very old editions of famous books. “It’s amazing to find a collection like this intact, especially during these troubled times. This is a moment to remember. I’ll never forget this experience my whole life. It is such an important lesson in this short visit to your father-in-law’s home. Without warning, all his expectations came to an end. We discuss life with each other, what the future holds, and then it can end abruptly, dashing all our dreams.”

  She showed me more of the house—the entry hall, the small salon, the living room, the billiard room with its beautiful wood paneling. There were fifteen bedrooms on the second floor, each with its own fireplace and bath. It was impressive.

  Then she showed me the kitchen. “Ah, this is a wonderful kitchen! If I see what a person eats and how he prepares it, I can tell you who he is. The copper pots and pans are of excellent quality. And these ovens! It’s unheard of! There are four of them, all with burners on the top.” I paused in appreciation, then continued, “You could feed an army from this kitchen, Emma. There are four sinks and look! Look at this huge pantry! This kitchen must be twelve by sixteen meters and the dining room must be ten by twenty. You could easily convert this house into an auberge and organize vacations on horseback. You could call it ‘Les Chevauchées.’ The possibilities are tremendous.”

  While I was savoring this fabulous home, my mind was actually focused elsewhere as well. I was thinking that I had to find a way to get in contact with the gendarmerie .

  As we concluded the tour of the big house, I asked, “Do you know any of the gendarmes in your region, Emma?”

  “No, personally, I don’t know a one. But why do you want to know?” she asked, suddenly tensing up.

  “Oh, I just have something I want to ask them.”

  She pleaded, “But I want to know. What is this about?”

  “Emma, I need to get in contact with the gendarmes so they will contact the partisans in your region and in the region just south of here.” Then I counseled myself and remained silent, thinking that I couldn’t tell her any more. She had lost too many people close to her already. If the Germans came and interrogated her, she’d have nothing to fear if I told her nothing. Besides this, it would be dangerous for me if she knew anything more.

  She responded, “Why don’t you talk to the mailman? He’s a veteran of World War I and, of course, despises the Nazis. His son and nine others were captured and killed about four months ago after trying to inhibit the German transport of people and arms by blowing up railroad tracks. The boys were brought to the central square and shot.” She shuddered at the horrible memory. “You can take my bicycle to go see him, if you want.”

  “Emma, it’s too dangerous for me to be on the roads. Would you go to his home and ask him to come here? I’ll watch the boy.”

  “Of course I will.” She went out, got on her bicycle, and left right away. Forty-five minutes later, she and the mailman returned on their bicycles. They came into the house where I was playing with her son. The mailman said, “Bonjour, monsieur. I hear you want to contact the gendarmes.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Can you help me?”

  The mailman replied, “There are no gendarmes close to us in this region. The closest gendarmerie is in Neufchâteau, about fifteen kilometers from here. We never see them around here because we are far from the main national highway. But in my profession, I know everyone—the good and the bad. I am on a first-name basis with most of the citizens in the area. Normally, I just mind my own business and don’t get involved in other people’s affairs; however, I do know the mayor and the leader of the French Forces of the Interior.”

  “I think you can help me, if you’re willing. If Madame will excuse us, why don’t we take a walk in the garden,” I said as I walked toward the door, indicating that he should follow. “Please, don’t be offended, Emma. I am only thinking of the welfare of the two of you,” I said as I looked at her and the boy. She nodded.

  Once outside, I said to the mailman, “Since you know the leader of the FFI, would you be so kind as to tell him that I would like to meet with him personally. I need to give him some confidential information regarding the Allied landing in the south of France. It may happen in the days to come, next month or next year. I would be grateful if you could contact him within the coming twenty-four hours. Each moment is valuable because we need all the preparation time we can get. I was parachuted into the vicinity of Vittel three days ago and was taken prisoner by the Germans. Aided by a German officer, I was able to escape.”

  “I can help you,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”

  After his departure, I went into the house. Dinner was on the table. Emma didn’t say anything. She was pouting because she had been excluded from the discussion with the mailman. It was already 8 P.M. We ate in silence. After finishing, she quickly did the dishes. Then she took the boy, put him to bed, and went to bed herself. I went to the living room, lay down on the sofa, and fell asleep.

  About one in the morning, I heard a tapping on the window. I went to the door and opened it. In front of me was a little boy, maybe ten years old, standing on the porch. He whispered, “We must be very quiet so that Madame doesn’t hear us. Put on your shoes and follow me.”

  I put on my shoes, grabbed a jacket, and followed the little boy. We went around the barn and then to the other side of the big house. There, the boy tapped on the basement window. He turned and whispered, “Everything’s all right. Follow me.”

  About twenty meters farther, there were five stairs that led to a door. The boy went down first and knocked. “All’s clear,” he said and indicated that I should follow. Another ten meters beyond was another door, which opened abruptly. There stood a massive man dressed in a gendarme’s uniform. He motioned for us to come in and said as we entered, “Watch your head. The entry is very low.”

  The room was dimly lit with candles, but I could see that there were four other gendarmes seated at the table and another man standing to the side who wasn’t in uniform. To my great surprise, it was the mailman who stood there on the right as I entered the room. He nodded and asked me to sit down. Then he left for a moment and returned with a bottle of eau-de-vie and seven glasses.

  “I know you must be surprised,” he said. “Madame does not know that her father-in-law’s basement is our general headquarters.”

  One of the gendarmes said, “We have heard about you and your escape. The Germans have placed a price on your head and have mounted a widespread search. They are powerful in this region. Last week, a Jesuit priest was captured. He was waiting for an English plane to pick him up but was taken prisoner before it arrived.”

  I sat down at the table, and the mailman began speaking. “After you give us the instructions about the landing, you’ll need to place your confidence in us. We’ll arrange for y
our return to England. We’ll do our very best to help you in any way we can. We don’t want you to end up a prisoner of the Gestapo. After you leave, I’ll call a general meeting to implement your instructions.”

  “By the order of British Intelligence and General Giraud,” I began, “we need to keep the enemy busy in the south. We need to blow up bridges, gas and diesel stations, to derail trains and create as much destruction and havoc as we can in the train stations themselves. We want to propagate the information that the Allied landing will take place in the south of France. Our goal is to encourage the enemy to bring more troops here to the south. Urge those who work for the railroads in any capacity to leave their jobs for a time and join the Resistance because there will certainly be a backlash against the railroad workers. You also must contact the Post, Telegraph, and Telephone Office and encourage them to stop all communication and leave their homes to join with the Resistance. Tell those in charge of the electrical stations to destroy the generators and those in charge of the radio stations to blow them up. You need to create as much disorder as you can. That is my message. Do you have any questions?”

  Since there were no questions, I asked, “When do you think you’ll be able to secure an airplane for my return to England?” The mailman said, “We’ll let you know in the morning.” Everyone got up and left.

  When I returned to Emma’s house, I entered quietly so as not to wake her or the boy. I lay down on the sofa and went to sleep. I woke up to the clatter of pots and pans. Emma was preparing breakfast. When everything was ready, I walked over to the table. She still wasn’t talking to me. Just as I sat down, there was a knock on the door. It was the mailman. “Please, come in,” she offered. “Join us for a bowl of warm goat’s milk.”

  “Thank you, but no,” he replied. Then, turning toward me, he said, “The rendezvous is set at four o’clock tomorrow morning. You’ll need to say your farewells today. You’ll be picked up at nine this evening.” He quickly said good-bye and left.