Reality
The Cunninghams and the Harrelsons went to dinner with their children, toasted the children, the Harrelsons hiding their sorrow. Dr. Harrelson insisted he pay the bill. They excused Kevin and Deirdre after dessert, aware the two would want to be alone. Deirdre, as she expected, was remarkable in her new dress.
When they left their parents, he told her. “Deirdre, you look stunning. I love the dress and the girl in it.” Deirdre felt a slight chill on her back and in her chest, smiled, I was right about the dress. I know what I’m doing. “Thank you, sweet. I knew you’d notice it.” ‘Me,’ she might have added, pleased with herself.
He quickly interrupted. “I received my notice the other day. I’m to report in a week.”
“Oh, so soon. I thought your parents seemed, well, sort of sad. I could see it in your mother’s face. Your brother’s O.K., isn’t he? Oh, he has to be. Otherwise you would have told me.” The sorrow in her voice was unfeigned. Whatever love was, she was fairly certain it was there for Kevin, although it did not overwhelm her. Her emotions now, however, the unease that she felt, were real, as rapid thoughts of war and reality flickered through her mind. Her hands were suddenly cold. She shivered.
She would not allow this conversation to continue. They were out for a good time. Only now, he was going to leave. She would be somewhat lonely for a while. She had made up her mind too. She was definitely joining the WAAC, even if she had to fake her age. She wouldn’t even tell Kevin. “Let’s just ride and be happy.” She couldn’t help herself, however. “Are you glad you’re going?”
“I am. I’ve been wanting to join my brother. Being in the army is exciting but somewhat scary. Being away from the family, you, makes me feel lonely.”
“Well, I already feel that way.” She started to tell him her plan but held back until later. This was not only their graduation night, but it was also that joy of being with one another, riding, talking, listening to some good swing on the radio, soft love music sung by someone like Frances Langford or Frank Sinatra. They were eighteen, a man and a girl; no, a soon-to-be woman. He would be her soldier. What if I meet someone else? I didn’t promise to be completely loyal. Why would I? Whatever happens. No one is certain about anything in these times. But we promised we’d be together in college. Maybe we will. Maybe we won’t. He may not feel the same way about me when he gets out. But he loves me. What do I feel? I don’t feel like I’m on a cloud. It doesn’t consume me. Well, why should anything consume anybody? You’re wrong, Deirdre. You’ll be consumed by something, perhaps the WAAC, college, future work. Marriage.
“Let’s go park, Kevin.”
“Sure.”
She sat next to him so they could feel one another as he drove. He took her to a spot where there would be fewer cars and parked under a tree. “This seems more private.” She agreed. It was a warm night. The windows were down. Without hesitation he turned, held her head and began kissing her. She kissed him back, moved her lips to his ear and his neck, licked him on these spots as he hunched a bit and let out a sound of satisfaction. He felt himself growing hard and tried to lean her back. She moved away a bit and toward the corner of her seat, pulling him with her. “Just be careful. I don’t want to wrinkle the dress.”
“I will.” He placed a hand on one of her breasts. “They’re beautiful the way they point through your dress.” He wished he could see them. “I’ll miss all this,” he continued, “miss you.”
“We’ll miss each other.” She reached down and held him by his testicles, then opened his pants and moved to his penis. “It’s so hard.” She began to rub. “Take it out.” He did. “Do you have a handkerchief.”
“Yes. But I want to put it in you so we’ll never forget,” as he lightly and reluctantly took away her hand.
“We can’t do that.” She stopped. Why not? He’s going away. “Do you have any protection?”
“I got some at the drug store. The guy looked at me peculiarly, probably thought I was too young to be asking for rubbers, but he let me buy them. Want to see one?”
She was becoming excited, felt her body tremble, her vagina becoming wet. “Show it to me.” She became more excited, handling it. “Put it on. I have to see that.” He did as she asked. He felt his body tighten as she rubbed again with her hand.
“It’s my dress, Kevin,” she used as an excuse. “And what if even with that rubber I got pregnant?”
“Come on. You won’t get pregnant. Not with this.”
“My dress,” she added again. “No, we can just play with one another.” Her hand went up and down on him, squeezed, lightly moved about the tip until he groaned to a finish.
They kissed. She pressed him closely to her, whispered, “Now you can do it to me.” She spread her legs as much as the dress allowed, pulled off her panties, took his hand, moved it below her skirt and up to her clitoris. Feel it? Now just do as I tell you,” her voice still low and excited; she felt a quiver as her wetness increased. She placed her hand on his and moved it so it satisfied her, then guided him just below to her opening. As she reached her climax, she arched her back, loudly moaned, relaxed, and took away his hand.
“I liked all that, dearest Deirdre. Will you do it to me again and then I’ll do you?”
“Yes.”
Later they sat, spoke softly, telling each other they would always be together.
~
One week later she went to the bus with him that would take him to Portland and eventually to Fort Devens. The first nights were extremely lonely, but he made friends fairly easily. They talked about females, about their sergeant, what they thought it would be like to fight, how anxious they were to see action. But girls were on their minds most often. Two of the recruits bragged about the women they had had. Kevin didn’t believe them. There was a lot of bragging, in fact, what some would do or accomplish, how they would confront the sergeant. Yet, no one dared. And they obeyed, as when he came in and yelled either, “Lights out,” or in the morning, “O.K. men,” thinking he joked but soon realized he wasn’t when he shouted, “Out of bed. Let go your cocks and grab your socks.”
Kevin did not like that. Despite his experience with Deirdre, it was offensive to him. There was much that was offensive, the continuous flow of “Fuck you, fuck this or that. Did you fuck your girl before you left? You’re a fucking fool if you didn’t. And if she didn’t let you, you’ll find some whore wherever they send us.”
After a week at Devens, they were herded to trains. It was raining quite hard at the railroad station. They stood there for at least an hour, sheltering themselves in their ponchos, some fortunate enough to get under an overhanging roof. When they had climbed aboard, thinking they would all have seats, there was another reality to confront. They guarded their duffel bags. Many sat on the floors, even slept on them, their heads on the duffel bags while a sergeant or corporal pushed through the crowded men, awakening or irritating them. Others did not seem to mind and laughed a lot at dirty jokes, keeping tired recruits from sleep, soldiers rather, for they had been such for a week. The train headed west, though no one knew it until one of the boys saw a sign reading a town in western Massachusetts. Kevin knew they weren’t far from the Mohawk Trail that he and his family had driven. It was still raining and late in the night when they boarded another train that took them south. In the morning, Kevin wished he had pen and paper so he could write to his parents, his brother, and Deirdre. He hoped she had changed her mind and gone on to Radcliffe, that the army was no place for her. By the time she received that advice, she had already told her parents what she had done and intended to do.
~
Within the Cunningham family, at the end of Deirdre’s second year at Radcliffe, there was furor. Deirdre had told her parents that now being twenty, she had enlisted. In July,1943, the WAAC, by act of Congress, became the WAC, plain Women’s Army Corps with some rights similar to male soldiers.
“Who do you think you are, Deirdre?” Her father yelled.
“I’m old enough to make a decision.”
“What do you know about the world? Haven’t you heard about those women that are in there,” he hesitated, “for the men, that they bed with the men?” He reddened. He had never talked about sex with his daughter. “You not only come from a good, decent family; but you have won all those honors. You’re good and must stay that way for marriage; and you’re probably the head of your class at college with all those A’s and you throw that and the WACs in our faces. I WON’T HAVE IT.” He was behaving like many men had when the WAAC was formed; some men still thought of the WACs the same way, though accepted by the general staff. They forbade their wives, fiancées, sweethearts from joining, for they would be labeled loose or prostitutes. They had even heard stories of WACs having to carry condoms with them to prevent pregnancy. A woman’s place was at home, taking care of the children, shopping, cleaning, preparing meals.
“Dad,” she pushed back. “Listen to me.” Yet it was a rare time she had shrunk from Edward, he was so angry, yelling at her, approaching her with his fists clenched, then reaching for his belt and about to snatch it off.
Christine was crying and hurt, but noticing Edward’s movement, finally recovered to stop his hand. Still crying, hurt, she hoarsely and loudly managed, “Edward. Don’t you dare.”
“She’s always been like this. I never wanted to say it again, but she’s a sneak, always has been, and I won’t tolerate it anymore.”
“EDWARD,” Christine screamed. “STOP. I won’t let you talk about her that way.” She knew, however, that their daughter was not always honest with them. She’ll get over that as she matures. And she does have a right at twenty to start making up her own mind without us. She’ll mature. Maybe this will be good for her, the discipline and knowing she’s directly helping her country, all of us.
The tears still flowing down her cheeks, she looked at her daughter, struck by that tall girl with a woman’s body, thinking of the agony it might someday endure, that she had in bearing her.
Deirdre, watching her mother, started to cry herself. “Mother, daddy, I’m not a sneak or someone who does things in secret. It’s just that,” as the crying made her throat catch, “I wanted to surprise you, let you know. Well, they did tell me at Radcliffe, I would probably still have the scholarship waiting, depending on events at school. And I didn’t want to upset you.” She thought quickly. “I wanted you to be proud of me doing something good and something you would be pleased with. It seemed to me that if I told you what I wanted and you agreed, that I’d be taking something away from Kevin.”
This last angered Edward again. He did not believe her. He looked at Christine and started to ask, “ Kevin, what has he to do with it? You don’t believe all this malarkey, do you?” but stopped himself.
He looked at Deirdre, knowing he loved her, at Christine, knowing, too, these were the two loves of his life. He was proud of his daughter, enjoyed watching people when he walked with her, the way heads turned. Yet, that was not enough. He wanted her to be as outstandingly honest as her mother. Yet her father’s anger scared her in a way she had never before experienced. She pictured herself, her bottom black and blue, the pain unbearably searing her body, perhaps her arm colored from his grip. She knew he would never touch her face. She knew he would never hit her, in fact. His wrath now, though, was entirely different. She backed away, thinking him a brute, called out to Christine. Christine stepped between them. “What’s wrong with your mind, EDWARD. You’re acting insanely. STOP. NOW. I mean it. You hit her, and we’ll both leave this house. I MEAN IT.”
Edward turned away from them, shaking, trying hard to settle himself, then suddenly crying. He turned to them. “Deirdre,” shaking from tears and the calming anger, “I never thought you would be so underhanded. We’ve loved you so, done all we could for you, and you have honored us and your school.” With his back to them, crying harder at her deception, he left the room. Christine followed. Deirdre, alone, started to cry, wondering about this change in her life and the protection she had always known. It took this to make me realize what kind of person I am. I’ll change somehow. But I’m old enough to do what I want. Why am I to blame? I am scared. I’m going to be with many women older than I. I’ll learn so much from them. My mom and dad should not be mad at me but proud as they were when I was valedictorian and how my grades were the best in the school and how good they are now. I’ll be serving my country. Boys go at eighteen. I suppose it won’t be much fun sometimes. Think of the places I’ll go, though, what I’ll be able to do, at least, I hope.
~
Fort Devens and Basic Training – About the middle of June, Deirdre was inducted into the WAC. She took the tests and scored quite high, marking her for further attention by her superiors. She liked the uniform, except for the underwear that she managed to manipulate so it would show her upper body. Getting accustomed to the shoes was difficult. Despite these minor irritations, she was proud. She was good in basic training, exercised without complaint, except like most new trainees, complained about the lack of privacy in the shower. It was, though, the tear gas room that unsettled her somewhat. She thought of D-Day, wondering whether Kevin had been in that. He had been in Africa with the tank corps. But D-Day. The dead. She imagined him lying on the beach or in a burned-out tank. This part of the training also further aroused her desire to ship overseas to England. She had heard about the work that some of the women were doing in the OSS and wanted to be with them.
One day she and three others heard their names called while in formation. “Report to the commanding officer.” Entering Captain Lewis’s office, she smartly saluted, stood at attention. “Cunningham, we decided according to your test scores, we want you in cryptographer school and map reading also. What do you say to that?”
“I’d love it, Captain.” She could not help herself. “Will I get to go overseas?”
“I like your enthusiasm, but there’s space in this country as well, so I can’t say,” The captain smiled. “You do well, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
She watched the smile on Deirdre’s face, admiring the looks of the young woman and her enthusiasm. Perhaps she may have thought she’d make a good agent, or perhaps, despite only two years in college, they should recommend her for officer training. “That’s it, private. You show us what you can do. Do it well, and congratulations.”
Deirdre wanted to run back to the barracks and tell her friends, the few with whom she had become close, but decided to say nothing for now. Instead, she went through the basic training exercises in her seersucker uniform, marched and never complained, did the foot exercises that were to help them get used to the shoes and the marching. When the men found out about the shoes and the marching, they laughed and had one more reason to make fun of the women who should be at home in the kitchen, waiting for their sweethearts, or having babies if married, unless they worked in factories and the shipyards, or flew as WAFs.
By the end of basic, she had been promoted to sergeant, because of her outstanding ability in mathematics and her proficiency in French. She had also studied some German. She had already been practicing cryptography and map reading. It was not long before she received her orders. She would ship to England.
Sailing on the Queen Mary, she arrived in London the middle of August, 1944, already marked by the OSS as a WAC cryptographer. She would be of use either in England or in Europe where the Americans were besieged in the Ardennes and fighting off the Germans at Bastogne.
When she arrived at headquarters, two women met her, a Captain known as Lynette Boucher and a Lieutenant known as Cheri Dormand. They would not only be her superiors but supervisors, perhaps occasionally her teachers. An enlisted WAC took her to her quarters in the city, a wet and dismal place, as far as Deirdre was concerned. It was also dangerous because of the rockets. She had heard that WACs had been either killed or injured.
The over-all commander was a male colonel. He was a husky man of about 5’10,” brown-haired with a small crook in his nose and a round chin, not particularly handsome but who appealed to many of the women because of his usually soft voice and bright brown eyes. When angry, those under him scurried or swore, although the women usually avoided swearing, not caring for it. Most despised his use of fuck and shit when angry, despised it in any of the males. Nor did they care to be seen as sexual objects and proved themselves to the men who came not only to accept them but to admire their abilities. On the streets it was different, “Look at those breasts, mamma mia, those legs. What a piece of ass she would make.”
When the colonel met Deirdre, he tried to hide his attraction to this, how could he describe it, “this beauty,” “a doll,” “a combination Ava Gardner and Rita Hayworth.” Deirdre knew what he was thinking but never acknowledged his admiration, stood straight and expressionless.
“Sergeant Deirdre Cunningham reporting, sir.”
“At ease, Sergeant.”
He watched her momentarily, instantly aware of the intelligence within her eyes as he watched them move about the room, remembering what she saw, analyzing the colonel while they talked.
“Sergeant, we don’t know how well you’ll do here. We’ll find out. From now on, though, you’ll be known as Agathe Lefevre.” He had already decided upon her fitness, if she had the strength and intelligence he believed was there from reading the reports. If so, she would be sent to France to help the Maquis.
~
By January, after the Battle of the Bulge had been won and the Seventh Army was poised to move for Southern Germany and to take Southern France, Deirdre had already shown her ability with cryptography, had parachuted several times, and complained to others of the WACs about her bruised breasts from the snapping of the straps. Yet, no one knew how long it would take to conquer Germany or undo the damage of the Pétain government completely under control of German troops. The German civilians still did not believe that Hitler would lose the war, despite the mass bombings and the destruction of their cities, including their fear of advancing Russians in the East and the Allies in the West.
Deirdre – Agathe parachuted at night near the Alps, met by Maquis that included one female who would see to Deirdre’s female needs and test her reactions to France and the men. They had to be certain the Americans or English had not dropped a double agent. The woman who took her to her quarters was somewhat suspicious. Perhaps I’m jealous of her looks. It did not take long to recognize that they had a good agent after the woman talked to Agathe Lefevre. The woman hurried Agathe to meet the chief that night, despite Agathe’s weariness. It was then perhaps she could make mistakes they would notice.
The chief was a man named Étienne Moreau. They already had one agent in the German headquarters in Lyon who would prepare for the group’s planned attack, hoping to hurry the retreating Germans from Vichy France.
Between Agathe with her messaging and the woman in the headquarters it would be a good combination, assuring coordination. Étienne needed this new woman, but he would have to make certain she was not an infiltrator from the Germans even though the Americans had dropped her.
“Hello, Agathe,” Étienne spoke softly and kindly. She wanted to sleep, but answered strongly about her happiness of being with him and the Maquis. She watched him as closely as he did Deirdre. He was a man of about medium height, broad shouldered, with a hard, handsome face. His curly black hair and blue eyes appealed to her, as did that body which she believed could withstand and give much punishment. She especially watched his eyes as he talked, analyzing her. Agathe-Deirdre started to smile, thinking of the time they were wasting.
“Talk to me some. Tell me about yourself,” his voice a bit harsher.
“You know about me. I’m with the American OSS, and I’m here to make sure everything we need gets to us. I’ll also be listening for anything in French that comes through from Lyon or elsewhere, transmit it back to England and. . . Oh why go on? You know what I’m doing here,” showing her annoyance with these preliminaries.
She wanted to know about him, about the group from his lips, though she already knew much from her information in England. The softness and hardness in Agathe-Deirdre was why the Americans chose her. Though she occasionally showed some fear, most of the time she hid it. She concealed the slight softness in her and was quite capable of showing whatever she wished of herself and veiling whatever she wanted. Deirdre was, in effect, an excellent actress, perhaps could have been a Hollywood star. She smiled at him, turned her body slightly for him to see her figure while watching his face.
“Let me see your papers,” he commanded, amused by her turn as though she were a fashion model but fascinated by her face and body. She handed them to him. He closely studied the photo, the wording, the paper to be sure there was nothing that would betray her. If there were to be a betrayal, she would be the one who would reveal it. After a time of just talk and Étienne assuring that members of the group met her, they drank wine as a welcome to the new member. The woman who had taken her to her quarters was there, went and sat beside her. “I’m Juliette, Agathe.” She then whispered, “We have another woman in the headquarters he’s going to arrange for you to meet.” Juliette faced Agathe, placed an arm about her. “I know you’re weary. Ah, what a pleasure to have another woman nearby. You’ll meet the other who’s at the Boche, brutal pigs rather, headquarters. You’re a looker. So is she. She fooled them from the first. You could too. They’ll fuck any woman, but one like she is or you, hah, that’s a real conquering. Frankly, I avoid them whenever possible. They’ll want to see what’s below that floppy coat you have to wear. You be careful of them. They’ll rape and then tell you you wanted it all along.”
Agathe, because of the anger in Juliette’s voice, wanted to ask about her.
Juliette saw the question. “Why hide it? They raped my mother and me. I hid my younger sister when they came to the house. They killed my father who tried to protect us. I hate the rapist pigs, cried so hard when they gathered up the Jews and sent them to the concentration camps. We’re living in swill here, and we’ll kill as many of them as we can. They got that bastard Pétain to go along with them. Talk about traitors. He was the hero, some hero, of the first war. Just wait until we can bring De Gaulle to all of France.”
“Ah, I’m sorry.” “Agathe, I’m a bitter woman and I want my revenge. I try to hide it from the men, joke with them, but they know better than even to touch me. I’m so happy to have you with us, to have another woman I can talk to more often than with others in different places.” She looked closely at Agathe. “Don’t pity me. Save it. We’re here for the same reason.”
“I won’t talk about it, bring it up. Let’s just try and be friends.”
“Friends? Maybe that’s not so good if one of us gets it.”
Deirdre changed from rape to Étienne. “What about him? You like him. It’s obvious everyone is loyal and will follow him.”
“Hah,” Juliette answered. “You like him already.”
Agathe tried to ignore her smile.
“He’s got some background. He was in Greece and came back to France just in time for the formation of the Petain government. Étienne didn’t waste time. He’s a natural leader who has headed this group for ages, it seems.
“By the way, has he told you he’s going to get you and Diane together?”
“Not yet. I know it’s necessary.”
“Wait until you see her.” Juliette laughed. “Two beauties. Yes, she’s got it, what the pigs want. How she puts up with it, being fucked by that Boche pig General. But she gets the information we need. So perhaps besides the pleasure, there’s that continual drip of useful information. Hah. I’m wicked. Agathe, I’m truly sorry. I haven’t talked so freely to a woman in so long. You can see and feel the hatred in me, no?”
“I do.” Agathe started to put her hand on Juliette’s face but stopped, not wanting the men to see any sign of affection or understanding.
Étienne had been watching them and interrupted. “Hah, female gossip. Good for the soul. You women.”
“Yeah, you women,” Juliette barked. Men in the room looked toward them. “We’re just chatter boxes, Étienne.”
“Stop, Julie. I can imagine what it’s like to be with men most of the time. I’m pleased you two seem to be getting along. But it’s time for Agathe to get some sleep. It’s quite a day tomorrow. I sent for Diane, and there’s messages with England needed.”
The night ended. Deirdre-Agathe Lefevre went to her small room in a farm house from which she could look out toward the Alps, wondering whether she would ever see her parents again, if they would ever know what happened to their daughter from whom they hadn’t heard for so long. She worried just now whether they disowned her. But that hardness that protected her returned – the independent, star student no longer but a member of the Maquis, the OSS, and a killer, if need be. Christine’s and Edward’s Deirdre had died.
While looking toward the window before she fell asleep, she suddenly thought of an ocean storm, the waves rising, turning a deceitful white spray spearing the coast, spewing their beauty and anger. Had a weary Deirdre died in that surf image? Silence.
~
The following day the group urgently met with Étienne.
“We have little time. We must get to Lyon. Diane has sent a message that Agathe has received.” He looked at this new woman, admiring her body and face so perfectly formed it was almost impossible to believe. He turned from her, compared her to Juliette, was angry with himself for doing so. There was no time for women right now. They were also fighters. He would find out; however, Agathe was difficult to ignore – if she were not a German agent.
“The Boche are planning another roundup. Perhaps, if fortunate, we’ll save some. Our main plan, however, from the message is that we should attack as soon as possible and force a quicker retreat, get as many papers as we can from their headquarters. Diane will meet a few of us while the rest of you wait my orders on the outskirts. There’s two safe houses held by widows, widows because the bastards took their husbands into custody and no one ever heard from them again.”
They had an old truck and a car. The truck held bicycles, as well as men; the car Étienne, Agathe, and Étienne’s lieutenants.
“We’re joining the main group that has been in Lyon. And listen, we’re out for revenge against the terror of Klaus Barbie, as well as setting the fear of the French and the Allies in the fucking Germans.” Étienne was angry at how long it was taking to drive such a relatively short distance. He wanted to kill Germans for the French and for disrupting his life because of these Maquis with whom he had become so close. He had never imagined being close to anyone, having been on his own so much before the war, having lost his parents to the Nazis who thought the parents knew where he was. He had heard that Barbie had personally tortured them. The Boche would suffer in this hopefully final attack.
They arrived outside Lyon in the evening, having all passed through check points. Once, looking inside the car, one of the Nazis asked Agathe to get out. He questioned her, found her imperturbable. It was her face that drew her to him. He grabbed her shoulder, pulled her into the guardhouse, pushed her, standing with his back to the car. “Open that coat.” She started to balk, calmed herself and did as he asked, thought of kicking him in his balls, as he grabbed for her breasts. Grimacing, she stood quite still.
“You like them?” You fucking son of a bitch.
“Yah. Soft. They must stand up. Lovely. Leave your friends and stay here. I’ll see you rejoin them.”
“No. You come to my home, handsome one. We can get together then,” she forced a smile. God help you if I ever see you again. “My friends are waiting. Please let me go. Here. Look at my papers again, and you’ll know where to find me. Meet me?” she forced another smile, fluttering her eyelashes. “We can have a good time then.”
He saw an officer coming and let her go to the car. “I’ll see you there,” he called just loudly enough for her to hear, as did the others in the car.
When she got in, Étienne started off, looked at her through the rear mirror. “Now you know.”
“I know, Étienne. Sometimes it’s hard being a woman. But men don’t know how we can punish.”
“Perhaps. Why do you think you’re here?” He laughed. “You’re getting tough.” Juliette touched her arm, ran her hand along it, telling her she understood.
At the farm house in which they would stay by the Rhone, they unloaded their equipment, took their sleeping quarters. Juliette and Agathe shared a room. The men took another on the floor below.
“Agathe. Come down as soon as you can.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Tomorrow, very early morning, Diane will be here. I want you two to know one another. You’re the new Diane contact. Make sure you get along. With your knowledge, maybe it will be easier.” He was making small talk now. It was obvious her skill in cryptography would help them maintain contact with the main Lyon group, as well as Diane, England, and the Allies now in Southern France driving hard against the Germans who in some places were fleeing in panic.
As the sun rose the next morning, Agathe heard a car, jumped from bed fully clothed. She had wanted to sleep in a soft filmy nightgown, to feel desirable. That, she knew quite well, would have to wait. She watched the car approach and stop. A woman about Agathe’s height, with reddish blonde hair, a straight short nose, high cheek bones, hazel eyes, wearing a dress that showed the shape of her breasts and hips, her long, slim legs as she walked. She’s a looker. Probably beds any damn Nazi she wants or they want.
In fact, Diane was the mistress of an aide to the officer in charge of the Lyon headquarters. If she dared sleep with another, she must have kept it secret. Agathe wondered what it would be like to be a spy, to become the sexual partner of an enemy, like Mata Hari, so you could get information. She would not like that. Her lover had to be her choice, or so she still thought despite what she had learned through OSS and here in France.
The two women met outside, greeted each other with a shake of hands, forced smiles, each wondering who was the more desirable, knowing they had to work together, perhaps uneasily.
Diane spoke first. “I am pleased to meet you. Your description was so accurate.”
“And that came from Étienne, no?”
“You guessed it. I want to ask him to let you come to headquarters with me, to meet the great high command.” She surprised Agathe. What was the purpose? Without answering they went in to have a light breakfast, eating alone with Étienne. Diane looked about, studying the building, deciding how many people Étienne had brought with him.
While she drank coffee, Diane asked, “I would like Agathe to come to headquarters, to see what it’s like, to introduce her as a friend. Looking at her, they’ll be after her.”
You ought to know, Agathe thought.
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. There’s going to be a coordinated attack soon.”
“When will it be so I can get free of the pig Boche and help as you get closer?”
Neither Étienne nor Agathe liked the manner of her question.
“Soon. We’ll make certain you’re safe,” Étienne replied slowly. “When do you want her?”
“I thought of taking her with me. I have some clothes, various sizes to make sure there’s a fit. Not too fancy, though.”
Agathe looked at Étienne. “All right. Go with Diane, but get her back here before evening.”
Diane’s eyes brightened. She turned her head to hide her expression. Agathe noticed each of her movements. She seemed uncomfortable, but Étienne who worked with her for so long was intent on his own thoughts, the need of Agathe for the radio.
“All right. Get going as soon as she’s dressed.”
They went upstairs where Juliette was dressing. “Oh. Juliette. You’re here too. How nice. I wish we had some time for woman talk, but I’m in a hurry.”
Juliette had only met Diane once and did not like her, not only because she didn’t trust her but because of the way she flaunted her body. Sometimes she wondered whether she was just jealous. Right now was no time for analysis.
Diane took out the dresses. One, a reddish blue, almost purple with diagonal stripes would fit and not look too rich. “Try this.” Agathe wanted to object. “Underwear, Diane?” she asked. She brought out several bras, panties, and slips. When she saw Agathe’s body, the straight full breasts, she was somewhat jealous again. She watched as Agathe quickly pulled on what she thought would fit.
“Fine,” Diane said. Juliette agreed, wondering if there was anything wrong with this woman. Agathe would notice. She laughed to herself. Two beautiful women vying with one another for the butcher Nazi’s attention.
As they approached Nazi headquarters, Agathe noticed the concentration of tanks, armored cars cruising about the streets, the many troops in what the Germans considered the strategic quarters of the city. When they came close to the headquarters, there was a guard house and a gate. One of the guards knew Diane but stopped her and asked for both the stranger’s papers and Diane’s.
They drove up a short street, ending in a circle, buildings on both sides, well protected. It took little imagination to know there were troops on either side. Diane stopped on the right side, took her inside a building with some wood paneling, three short steps to get to the soldier sitting at a desk, his weapon in a half-open drawer. He also knew Diane and was going to waive her on, stopped, seeing Agathe.
“Wait,” he curtly ordered. “This one? I’ve never seen her before. Is she a friend of yours?”
“Yes,” Diane answered in a disgruntled voice. “Do you think I’d bring in someone who shouldn’t be here? She’s a cousin I haven’t seen for some time. Can’t you see the resemblance?”
More politely, the soldier asked for Agathe’s papers. He could not upset a commanding officer.
They took an elevator to the third floor, were shown into a spacious office with floor-to-ceiling windows, partially shuttered, a large desk, where sat a tall, husky man with wide, puffy cheeks, broad arms resting on the desk top.
“Ah, Diane. You brought your cousin. Pleased to meet you, mademoiselle.” He rose, went to them, held himself from kissing Diane, and shook Agathe’s extended hand. The perfect gentleman. Agathe was a bit fearful but also excited. She was in the headquarters they would attack, and, hopefully, capture this bastard. She watched both closely. The general ordered brandy for them. Agathe begged off. She did not like liquor and also needed clearness. She noticed the General look questioningly at Diane. She tried to avoid him and turned to Agathe. “The General has waited a long time to meet you. He’s heard much about our friendship since we were children.”
After a while, Diane walked to one of the windows while Agathe sat in a corner chair close by a table where they had the drinks. The General stood behind Diane, listening to her whisper, “I think - I don’t know – maybe I can turn her. She may look sure of herself, but I wonder.” She glanced back to Agathe and smiled. Agathe thought, Forced. At that moment Agathe saw her reach back and lightly touch the General’s hand.
I’ve got to get back. This is no act.
“Would you excuse us for a moment, Agathe?” the General asked.
“Of course.” Involuntarily, she looked at his crotch. He’s probably so hard he has to get her even though I’m here. Stop being a fool. They want you and all of us. She’s a freakin’, fucking traitor. I just know, that look and touch at the window, the whispering. I’m, well – not like her, but I am attracted to Étienne. Here I am still a virgin. Hmm? That’s war.
On the way back, Diane’s biggest mistake, revealing her a traitor, was asking when the attack would come rather than waiting by her radio for Agathe’s short signal.
At the farmhouse, after Diane left, Agathe asked to speak to Étienne.
“What?”
“She’s a German agent,” Agathe curtly said.
“Now what makes you think that?” he smiled. “She’s been with us for some time now.”
“And how many members have you lost?”
He thought for a moment. “I know there were some lost in the city. One night we were caught attacking a train and lost a man and woman. But that didn’t seem unusual,” he lied.
“C’mon, Étienne. You’re too smart not to wonder.”
That charming smile of his again, damn. I do like him. His eyes. God, I could lie in those arms. Cut it. He has suspected. That’s why he sent me.
“She’s more than his mistress. I’m sure she’s good in bed. That rear of hers and the way she swings it.”
“So does yours more than usual sometimes,” he laughed. He stopped, immediately serious. “What happened?”
“The way she was with the General, the little signals, the stupidity of asking about the attack instead of waiting for my short signal. Damn. When I think I’ve been transmitting information to her. They’ll be down on us. I know it.”
“No they won’t.” He thought just a moment. “We’re moving and will watch and get them, take care of her in Lyon.”
Agathe felt sorry for Diane, but only in passing. She wanted the woman dead, hanging like so many of the citizens had been. Screws her ass off with that General, gets whatever she wants. And now she thinks she’ll screw us. Deirdre, you’re getting to be a hard bitch. She smiled. Étienne noticed. “What’s going on in that lovely head, Agathe?”
“Revenge,” her voice hard. She softened her tone. “Étienne. I just wish this war would end and I could be a woman, a real woman.”
“Silly one. You are, well, no I do understand.”
They sat looking at one another, her arms bent, her head resting in her hands, gazing at him. Why did I tell him that? You’re trying to seduce him and know you can.
“Tell me about yourself, Étienne. You know more about me. What was it like in Greece?”
“I was an art dealer, traveled about the Mediterranean, France etc. I hunt for art objects to sell. When the Germans came to Greece, I came back home and quickly got involved with the Resistance. Exciting, no?”
“You joke, but it sounds like fun and good work. I love art objects.”
Étienne, watching her, the eyes, hair, face, glancing at her breasts showing just above the table, felt a stirring in his groin. He imagined her naked, wanted to touch her.
Aware of his thoughts, she did not move when she felt his hand on her thigh, slowly moving upward, waiting to see whether she would stop him. Instead, she placed her hand over his and moved it close to her orifice while spreading her thighs but forced herself to stop him, suddenly thinking of Kevin. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead nor he I. Now is now. We owe each other nothing. Never did.
“No. We shouldn’t. The quarters are too close,” his voice hoarse. She did not want to stop though, feeling her nipples tightening and her increasing wetness.
“No, not here,” she loudly whispered.
“We’ll get away from the others.” They were both breathing harder. “Later, Agathe. All right?”
She let out a loud breath, moving her head slowly up and down once.
And later, they went to the barn and climbed into the back seat of the car. “It should be our only time together in a place like this. I want to see you.”
Juliette woke for a moment, noticed she was missing, thought nothing of it until early morning when they had to be ready to leave. “You were late, Agathe,” Juliette said with a wide grin. “Tell me. You like him, don’t you?”
“We have work to do. Let’s get ready.” She did smile at Juliette. “I do.”
“He’s a hard one to resist.”
As they dressed, Agathe thought of the car, saw herself taking off her dress, unfastening her bra, feeling Étienne pulling down her panties, his fingers curling her hair, inserting his fingers, his hands then rising to her breasts, murmuring how lovely they were, and the sucking on her nipples. She thought of how in the dim light they had from leaving the door ajar, watching him take off his pants, his underwear, watching his hardened penis as she reached for it and lightly slid her hand along the shaft, as he moved her so he could push inside. She felt the pain - still hurt this morning – yet was happy. She thought of his patience, when soon aware it was her first time. After, she waited, pleased, until he was ready; the next time, he turned her on top of him, parting her legs so her foot of one leg rested on the car floor, guided her, listening to her moaning as she moved back and forth, up, down, listening to her deeper breaths until she shouted, leaning backward. She lay on him, not wanting to leave, wishing they were in a bed.
“Come on, Juliette. We’re going to be first ready. Won’t we surprise Diane and her General?”
“He was good, I bet,” Juliette teased.
“Keep quiet.”
“Your face is red, Agathe.”
“Oh, stop.”
“Agathe, I’m not jealous. I’m not even sure, though I see men that are appealing, that I want one inside me, not after. . . .” She stopped. Agathe went to her, hugged and kissed her mouth.
“Sometimes I wish I could just have a woman,” she whispered. “Kiss me again.”
Agathe did and eased back, enjoying the feel of Juliette’s lips. “If anything happened to me like to you, I don’t know what I’d do. I hope I’d be as brave as you.” She hesitated, “I’d let you be with me, if I could,” She hesitantly mumbled, “I’m not sure. You understand?” Deirdre did then start questioning what it would be like to make love to another woman, that perhaps it would be more pleasurable, softness against softness, each knowing what satisfies a woman.
Juliette shook her head “Yes,” and walked toward the stairs, rubbing a few tears from her eyes.
~
Everyone in the car was silent when they started. It was to be a coordinated attack. The Americans and their Free French allies had landed in Southern France and were now driving toward General Patton and Aix-en-Provence, having freed Toulon and Marseilles and much of Vichy France. Soon they would free Lyon with the help of the Resistance in which Étienne and his group were taking part. The main group would attack Fort Montluc, Klaus Barbie’s headquarters for the SS, where so many Jews and Resistance had been tortured, murdered, sent to concentration camps.
Étienne reminded them of what was happening, how they must be successful, thus the quiet thinking of what they must accomplish and wondering which of them would perhaps be killed.
Soon, however, one of the men shouted, “We’ll demolish the Boche, butcher them. No mercy for the assassins.”
Étienne told him not to be so sure, even if it is a surprise attack that comes off. “We’ll be the ones going after the headquarters. And if you find Diane, I don’t want her killed. Hear me?” shouting this last. “I want that woman myself.”
They drove to the outskirts of the city. The men in the truck spread out and walked alone or in twos while keeping track of one another, heading toward the cathedral, Notre Dame de Fouvière. There they met others strolling, despite the German troops and tanks. From there they walked northward to a far end of Place Bellecour moving closer to the German Headquarters where weapons were hidden nearby.
A German staff car conveniently parked nearby in which there were two soldiers. The Maquis quickly came from behind, leaped, grabbed the soldiers’ necks, twisting, breaking them, capturing the Germans’ vehicle that they drove toward the gate, a German waving them through, quickly stabbed, his hand still raised, two others killed the same way. The attack was on, as Étienne’s men crept through, pressing against buildings to avoid notice.
Agathe and Juliette had walked together as two women shopping. Now Agathe’s heart began beating harder as they came closer to the headquarters where Diane had introduced her to the General.
The Resistance in Lyon that was already throughout the city, as they had been since the German occupation, had previously taken on the Germans, killing many and losing Maquis men and women. Now, they believed, they would make a difference. The Germans would die and leave them free. Those attacking Fort Montluc also had a staff car, the Resistance men dressed in captured German SS uniforms.
Gun and shellfire burst in the early morning, smoke spreading, obscuring the sunrise, bodies left where they fell, scattered, dismembered. Other dead floated in the Rhone.
The attackers of Fort Montluc broke through, killing Germans in their way, quickly ran throughout the building and to the lower parts, freeing prisoners, helping those who could not walk, taking them to a relatively safe area. Claus Barbie, “The Butcher of Lyon,” unfortunately escaped with Jewish prisoners. The Resistance rejoiced, however, having seized the fort.
Étienne’s force sat on a corner manning a machine gun, others running into buildings firing. Agathe and Juliette along with men shot their way through the lobby where Diane had previously taken Agathe. Agathe, leading, led them to the third floor, broke through the door, slammed a door open. There in a corner, quivering, was Diane, abandoned by her German protectors.
Agathe, her heart beating furiously, breathed deeply, holding a rifle pointed at Diane. Calming some, she finally spoke. “Get up from that crouch, bitch traitor.” Slowly Diane rose, expecting to be shot. “Don’t, Agathe. You don’t know how helpful I was.” She wanted to pee, trembled, put out her arm, her fingers shaking.
“You were helpful. You led us here.” Agathe walked slowly toward her, placed the rifle between her legs bringing it up sharply, “Not like your Nazi’s prick, huh?” She slowly pointed down the rifle, holding it with one hand, grabbed Diane’s long hair, pulled her toward the door, Diane screaming.
Étienne took her from Agathe, gave her to two men who held her arms while Juliette pulled at her hair as she cut it off. When finished the men pushed her to a building wall.
Étienne glared at the trembling, begging woman. “I have no pity, Diane. You have helped send Jews, our compatriots, and others to concentration camps, helped kill them in Fort Montluc. You are guilty.” He paused. “Shoot her.” Diane fell. All watched, some sorrowfully, some with hatred. “We have finished our work for now. The Allies will soon be here, and we’ll help where they direct us.”
Agathe stayed with Étienne’s group for a while after the fall of Lyon to the Allies. She enjoyed looking at the mountains, seeing their power and feeling their magnetism. She spent time at Étienne’s spare quarters, a small apartment. Here they became lovers, thought of marriage, but eventually, she had to follow orders that sent her to Paris and back to London. While in Paris, at headquarters, she received orders to report to her WAC commanding officer. As Deirdre walked into the Colonel’s office, the woman smiled, returned Deirdre’s salute and walked toward her.
“Because of your meritorious service, Sergeant, you are being given a field promotion to Second Lieutenant.” The Colonel held gold bars in her hand, smiled, and told Deirdre to come close so the bars could be pinned on her shoulders. “Congratulations,” she said, smiling. “Now you’ll have to get a new uniform. In the meantime, I’ll just cut off those stripes so you can leave here and be saluted for what we know you did, the bravery you showed working for the OSS in France. You are a credit to the WAC and the OSS. Such a credit. I believe there’s a medal awaiting you in London.
Surprised, Deirdre smiled. “I expected nothing. I did what I had to, made friends among the French.” She was thinking of Juliette and Étienne. For a moment, Juliette appeared foremost, Deirdre hearing her tell of the rape, feeling Juliette’s mouth again on hers later that night, leading to hugs and kisses, searching hands to the following stifled moans in the shudder of orgasms.
“Would you like to tell me what it was like?”
“Not really. The hardest was the attack on the army headquarters, at least for me, and discovering an extremely attractive woman who had become a German double agent, the revengeful feeling, the coldness I felt when they shot her – but now. No. I . . .” Deirdre could not keep back the tears. “Excuse me, Colonel.” She choked, her shoulders shaking, trying hard to stop the flow, waited, spoke as the Colonel interrupted to tell her she did not have to say more.
“No. . . . Now . . . .” taking a small handkerchief from her breast pocket and wiping. “Now, I am sorry for her. That gorgeous woman. All that beauty wasted. Still I hate her. Can you understand?”
The Colonel’s face was grim. “You deserve every honor you receive, Deirdre. I’m proud to have you in the Corps.” She went to Deirdre, touched her hand, “Sit for a bit until you feel you can face that world outside this office.”
When she left the Colonel, she walked through the office of smiling faces and soft words of congratulations. She forced her thanks but wanted to get out, breath free air, walk on the Champs-Elysees, suddenly aware she would have to buy a uniform and change her quarters. She would tell only Étienne of the promotion.
They kept in touch through the wireless, reminding one another of their loss, the feel of one another’s bodies. At night, she would lie thinking of his hands moving about her, feel the sensations, see herself sitting on him, tightening herself about him while moving slowly, or being below him, or his lips and mouth on her genitals. She heard herself and smiled with joy and then sadden with loneliness. They had decided she would finish school but be partners in his art object searches that they would sell to museums and collectors. He would return to Greece, go to Egypt, and she would return to the United States and set in place what they believed would be a lucrative business. He also promised to visit her after the war ended. Never would she forget the Alps, that small apartment, the killing, the anger, the hatred, the bodies. She buried these within her as deeply as she could. Yet, the outer beauty of Deirdre never forsook her. She had learned from her wartime experience the most effective use of her facial and body expressions. War obviously changed Deirdre. She wondered whether she had become the woman she had dreamed of being when younger.
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