Chapter 3

Tulle, 9th June 1944

Elise was roused by banging and loud shouts of raucous German. Listening, it was clear the SS were conducting house to house searches. A glance out of the window showed boys and men being herded up the street under guard. Elise quickly dressed and then the banging started on the Pharmacie door followed by shouts and the crash of heavy boots on the stairs.

She stood in the open doorway of her room as an SS trooper appeared at the top of the stairs. He ignored Elise, roughly pushing aside as he barged into the room, banging open the cupboard and searching under the bed. Satisfied, he searched the other two rooms, finding nothing of interest. Back on the landing he gave Elise a hard look and then clattered downstairs to join a comrade who had been searching the ground floor and they left.

Genevieve stood motionless in the shop, several pill bottles and boxes littered the floor where they had fallen during the search of cabinets and cupboards.

“What’s going on, Genevieve?”

Genevieve did not move.

“Genevieve?”

She turned her shocked and pallid face towards Genevieve. “They are rounding up all the men and boys over sixteen...”

Elise felt her stomach lurch. There had been reprisals against civilians on occasion. But all the males in a town the size of Tulle? Surely even the SS would not go that far? To distract herself, she started cleaning up the mess on the floor. After a minute, Genevieve joined her, her shaking hands putting things back in their place on the shelves and in the cabinets.

Several groups of men were hurried past under SS guard and then their part of the town fell silent. They made coffee – really roasted and ground acorns – and stood in the shop, unsure what to do. A woman scurried past, glancing furtively at closed doorways and empty windows, but did not stop. There was no information – only a growing miasma of unease settling over the town.

At ten o’clock, they heard an announcement over the loudspeakers in the town centre but could not make it out. The two women looked at each other, unspoken questions hanging over their deepening abyss of fear.

What was happening in the town?

A squad of SS ran up the street and two peeled off. They barged into the Pharmacie and out into the back yard, returning shortly with the ladder they had found there. Out in the street, several other SS parties went by, also carrying ladders.

Why do they need ladders? Elise’s unease grew into a mounting horror at what might be to come.

Genevieve grasped her shoulder. “Come. We are going to a friend’s house down in the Rue de la Gare.”

Elise could see the fear swirling in Genevieve’s eyes as they darted about, seeking some sort of security, of sanity. Together, they walked quickly towards the town centre, but were stopped by a group of SS troopers carrying ladders and ropes.

“Geh zurück in seine Häuser.” (Get back to your houses). One of them shouted, waving his arms. “A maison, á maison,” (To house, to house), he added in broken French.

The two women stopped. They didn’t move fast enough for the SS trooper. He grabbed them by the arm and dragged them to the nearest front door. It crashed open after a couple of heavy booted kicks and he threw them inside. The women sprawled on the floor, the black uniformed trooper towering over them.

“Bleiben Sie hier ... restez ici.” (Stay here). He slammed the door closed.

Elise clambered to her feet and helped Genevieve to hers. They were in a dim corridor. A slight sound caused Elise to turn: a pale, tear-stained face was peering fearfully round the corner of a doorway.

“Madame, we apologise for this intrusion. We were trying to reach a friend’s house but...” Elise petered out as she saw the woman’s face, the red eyes and wet cheeks underneath a dishevelled head of grey hair, her hands constantly twining a handkerchief through her fingers.

“It’s all right Madame, they have gone.” Elise thought the old woman was terrified the SS would come back.

The grey hair waved as the woman shook her head. “They took my husband and son. They burst in and ... took them away.”

Genevieve pushed forward. “Do you know what’s happening?”

The woman just stared at them, tears dribbling down her face. “They took my Claude and Frederique.” She sobbed and slid down the door frame, collapsing to the floor.

Elise and Genevieve half-carried her to a couch, where she lay, weeping continuously. Elise went exploring and found the kitchen, returning with a glass of water, but the woman turned her head away, so Elise left it beside her on a small table.

Genevieve sat back on her haunches beside the couch. “We cannot go out again.” She went to the curtained front window, glancing down the street. “If we went upstairs, we might be able to see something.”

They explored upstairs, but they couldn’t see much from the windows there. Then Genevieve found the attic stairs, disguised behind a cupboard door. There was an attic window looking over the house next door and down Rue de la Gare. Genevieve spat on the dirty glass and used a fold of her skirt to polish it. With a gasp, she stepped back.

Elise leaned forward. In the section of the street they could see, SS troopers were up ladders, securing nooses to lampposts, balconies – anything that would serve as a strong enough suspension point. They were laughing and joking as they went about their grisly work. She collapsed back on her haunches, aghast at what the scene presaged. Eventually, a group of ten men – a mixture of old and young – were marched into the street.

Elise made herself watch; there had to be witnesses to this horrific crime. One by one the men, hands tied behind them, were pushed and shoved up a ladder. A noose strung round their neck, the ladder was pulled away and the men slowly strangled, feet kicking as the troopers stood, watching. One SS trooper mimicked the expiring jerks of one of the men, drawing laughter from his companions. Eventually, the last body ceased moving and the SS troopers moved on further up the street out of view to continue their appalling work. The corpses hung there, moved occasionally by the breeze.

Genevieve had collapsed on the floor, unable to watch the brutality playing out before them. Elise’s stomach was roiling, bitter bile at the back of her throat, and she realised tears were streaming down her face as emotions stormed through her.

How could human beings treat others so callously and be happy in such work?

Then Elise felt something harden inside her and the tears stopped. She found a place of calm emptiness in the eye of the emotional hurricane. As if watching herself, she sat enthralled by this place of safety as raw hatred, anger, fear and pity raged in a dark rainbow around her. From this island sanctuary, she banished all emotions. Pity, compassion, empathy and sympathy were dangerous weaknesses: expelled. So too were anger, hatred, fear and even love. From this place of emptiness she could toss them all over the edge of her world, unnecessary and dangerous baggage. This emotionless centre was all she needed. She could use this place of calm to deal out endless vengeance to those responsible for what she had seen. And now, for her, all Germans were responsible for loosing this black horror into the world.

Some unknown amount of time had passed when she focussed back on her surroundings. Out of the window, she could see a party of SD plastering walls with a notice. She prodded Genevieve with her foot. “Get up, we need to get back to the Pharmacie.” Her mission would be a small part of the vengeance deserved by the perpetrators.

Genevieve raised her head and her eyes widened as they absorbed the streetscape of hanging corpses. She collapsed back to the floor sobbing.

“Enough of that.” Elise grabbed her hair, pulling Genevieve’s head back. “Get up.”

Genevieve did not move until Elise had slapped her face, twice. Startled, Genevieve sat up, a dazed look above the handprint on her cheek.

Elise grabbed her by the arm. “Get a hold of yourself. We have to get back, there are things I must do.” She chivvied the girl down to the ground floor. The woman of the house was asleep on the couch, so they did not disturb her. Opening the front door, Elise saw several people reading one of the SS posters across the street, their faces numbed by what had happened to their town, their movements jerky and uncoordinated in shock.

Keeping a close hold of Genevieve, she set off for the Pharmacie. As they approached the shop, a pair of SS troopers ran towards them, waving then out of the way. Elise pulled Genevieve to the side of the street. Almost in slow motion, she saw one trooper catch his boot and start to fall. His companion tried to reach him in vain. The trooper went down and his Schmeiser barked as he hit the ground. Bullets ricocheted off the cobbles, one tumbling through Elise’s left leg above the knee.

She crumpled to the ground, blood staining her skirt. The pain arrived like a wall, almost severing her from the world. Dimly, she heard voices and felt herself being lifted, her leg straightened from beneath her. That agony drowned her limited awareness and she was carried, unconscious, to the hospital.