Echoes

“My sister entered an order in Touraine. They were crazy to take her. She has terrible judgment, and bad nerves. She stayed two years and came out and got married. I'm sure they were happy to see her go. She has six kids.” He smiled at her, and Amadea felt a connection to him. They hadn't been introduced, but she had heard several people call him Serge. “I have a brother who's a priest.” He was the head of a cell in Marseilles, which he didn't volunteer to Amadea. He had trained with Father Jacques in Avon, where he had been hiding Jewish boys in the school he ran. Serge's brother was doing much the same thing in Marseilles, as were individual members of the clergy all over France, often on an independent basis. Serge knew a number of them. But he didn't want to make use of this young German woman as a nun. She could be far more useful in other ways. She could easily masquerade as a German, and pull it off flawlessly, if she had the guts. That's what he had to learn. “We'll keep you here for a few weeks. You can stay downstairs until we get your papers in order. After that you can stay with my grandparents. You're my cousin from Chartres. That should be religious enough for you.” She realized then that Pierre and Serge were brothers. The darkened room had the atmosphere of a factory, there was so much going on. Someone was running a small printing press in a corner. They were printing bulletins to distribute to buoy French spirits and tell them what was really happening with the war.

One of the women took Amadea's photograph then, for her new French papers. And a little while later, the other woman went upstairs and brought back food for Amadea and Wolff. After what she had seen at Theresienstadt, food seemed so plentiful to her now everywhere. She was surprised to find she was ravenous, as Serge continued to interview her. And a few hours later, Wolff left. He was going back to Prague.

He stopped to say good-bye to her before he left. “Good luck, Sister,” he said, smiling at her. “Perhaps we'll meet again.”

“Thank you,” she said, sad to see him leave. She felt as though they were friends. “God bless you and keep you safe.”

“I'm sure He will,” he said confidently. He stopped for a few minutes to talk to Serge again, and then he and Pierre left. He would change back into the SS uniform on the way back to the station. He seemed fearless to Amadea. They all did. They were a shining example of French courage. Although the country had surrendered to the Germans in three weeks, there were cells like this one all over France, fighting to free the French again, to keep Jews alive, and restore the coun-try's honor. But more than anything, they were saving lives, and doing all they could to help the Allied war effort, working closely with the British.

Amadea slept on a narrow cot in the basement room that night, as the men talked until the wee hours. Her papers were ready the next day. They were even more remarkable than the German ones, which Serge said he would keep for her. He didn't want them on her, if she went out for him with the others. They had talked about her long into the night, and had made a decision. He was sending her to Melun. It was sixty miles southeast of Paris, and he thought she would be safer there. They needed her desperately. The British were parachuting supplies in to them there, and men. It was delicate work.

This time her papers said that she was an unmarried woman from a town near Melun. Her name was Amélie Dumas. They used her correct birthday, and said she had been born in Lyon. If asked, she had studied at the Sorbonne before the war. She had studied literature and art. He asked her if there was a code name she wanted, and without hesitating she said, “Teresa.” She knew it would give her courage. She had no idea what they expected of her, but whatever it was, she would do it. Yet again, she owed these people her life.

She and the other two women drove to Melun that night, they were just three women who had come to Paris for a few days, and were going back to the farms where they lived. They were stopped once, their papers were checked, the German soldiers laughed and winked at them for a minute, tried to tease them with chocolate bars and cigarettes, and sent them on their way. They were harmless for once, and loved flirting with the French women. They had spoken to the three women in broken French.