Or, How a Big French Jackrabbit Helped Win the War
By D. Zane Schlemmer
THIS SHORT TRUE STORY IS DEDICATED to my grandchildren and to all the children and descendants of a very brave French rabbit, about whom you are about to read.
The rabbit:
This particular French rabbit wasn’t a small, cuddly domestic rabbit; he was a big, bluish-gray wild rabbit, with large hind legs and long ears, which were either laid back or standing straight up, depending on what he was doing. He (and I say “he” because he was so large and athletic) was much like our American jackrabbit. He lived in the thickets of the French hedgerows and feasted upon the lush green pasture grasses in the Norman fields, where grazed the Norman cows with their large udders and big brown eyes. Whether he lived alone or with a rabbit family, I was never to learn.
The Norman field:
The field was a large pasture, about the size of a football or soccer field, alongside a small French country road. In more peaceful times, the field’s limestone soil grew rich, lush green grasses that the cows ate and turned into Normandy milk and cream, the finest in all of France. The field was surrounded by rocky earthen hedgerows full of trees, briar bushes and thickets, which over many decades became like walls. The hedgerows had a single opening with a gate so that the cows could enter the fields. These hedgerows were the home of our French rabbit.
The situation:
It was June 12, 1944. Six days earlier, we American paratroopers had jumped into Normandy and fought long days and nights before the beach landing troops reached us with necessary resupplies of weapons, ammunition and food. With these much-needed supplies, we could now advance further inland. Thus we were given the tasks of a night-time river crossing, assaulting and taking a little French town (Beuzeville-la-Bastille), then fighting our way forward some five miles to capture and occupy another French town (Baupte), where a German Panzer (armored) battalion was located. After we crossed the river, we would be without support until our engineers could build a river bridge.
Many years later, a French count, who lived in a large French château at Beuzeville-la-Bastille, thanked us for the fast liberation which had saved his château. For the German soldiers had, only the day before, piled all of his furniture to the ceiling of his great room and had told him that they would set fire to it, should the Americans come. Fortunately, we surprised them by our night attack and they didn’t have time to set fire to his home.
Knocking out two German tanks en route, we proceeded down a narrow French country road until early afternoon, when we reached “the field.” By this time, we were quite weary from having been up all night, from the river crossing and fight, and from carrying all of our weapons, ammunition and belongings. We knew as well that we would probably be faced with a pitched battle for the town of Baupte before we could complete our mission.
The encounter with the French rabbit:
We arrived at the field where the French rabbit lived in the hedgerows. Just as we fixed bayonets and formed a skirmish line to assault, the rabbit appeared at the left end of the field. With his large ears straight up and alert, he stood up to look around, probably made curious by the unfamiliar sounds of our preparations. The sudden realization that he was in the midst of many strangers must have panicked him, for he started running across the large field, zigzagging from left to right. Seeing him take off, and having our weapons at the ready, we all started shooting at the madly dashing French rabbit with our rifles, pistols, submachine guns, and automatic rifles.
He jumped and bounded, he leaped and dove, he skipped and vaulted, he whirled and twirled, he dodged and pirouetted, he spun and darted, he plunged and arched, in a display of broken field running that would put the finest of professional football runners to shame. Finally, with his ears laid straight back, and with one great bounding leap, he dove into the hedgerow bushes amid flying leaves and debris from the accompanying volley of bullets that followed him.
Everyone was both shooting and laughing, cheering for this very brave and daring rabbit who had just out-run and out-maneuvered the firepower of the better part of two companies of American paratroopers, most of whom were expert marksmen. I think each of us was secretly cheering for him as he neared the edge of the field in his flight. We all had a great deal of empathy and feeling for him, for he was an “underdog” and had won his battle with flying colors. It was also probably best for everyone that this French rabbit had won his race, for I am certain that had he been hit or stopped, each and every trooper who was firing at him would have claimed to have been the one who stopped him. And so it was he saved us many long discussions and arguments.
After the encounter:
The firing action, shouting, cheering and laughter, combined with command whistles blowing to cease firing and shouted commands, put an end to the weariness we all had felt, and the adrenal rush created a desire to now get on with the attack that we were facing.
Meanwhile, the German defenders of Baupte heard the sounds of our noisy encounter with the French rabbit, which evidently crested their fears and made them believe they were facing a far larger attacking force than our two companies of unsupported paratroopers. As they thought they were vastly outnumbered, their desire to fight wavered, while at the same time, our encounter with the rabbit had enhanced our desire to attack. With this difference, after a pitched battle, we drove the German soldiers from the town of Baupte, captured their armored motor pool with all their remaining vehicles and supplies, and dug in for an expected counter-attack.
So let’s hear it for one very brave French rabbit who did his bit to win the war!