The Baltimore Bitch

The leader wasn't a guerilla. He was more like a gorilla. He was short, perhaps five-ten, but he must have weighed at least two-sixty and all of it was muscle. He had no neck, and a hairline that started about three inches above his eyebrows. His hair was slicked back like a gangster and he had a five o'clock shadow.

Yet, his eyes were clever, kind, and also very perceptive. A lot of intelligence lurked down there. He called across jovially, in American English, "Relax buddy. We're the Maqui. Folks call me King, like the monkey, not the royal."

That was a Midwest accent. I just gaped at him. He said by way of explanation, "Came over in '18 with Black Jack Pershing and decided to stay."

Then he turned to a gorgeous, little French woman who had drifted up beside him and said. This is my partner Bernadette d'Langdouc. She used to be British Special Operations. We're both with the OSS now, on loan to the Maquis for the duration.

That was puzzling since the woman was tiny, like Suzy, and she looked like a French aristocrat, not a Commando. King said matter-of-fact, "Bernadette's a Marchioness when she's not toting a Sten. Her family owns most of the land we're standing on."

The woman laughed and said in delightful French accented English, "Ignore King, he likes to tease me about my station before the war. That's all changed, now that the Boche are here. He is the leader of our little group. I go where he goes."

They smiled at each other fondly. They might have looked like beauty and the beast. But the two of them were obviously deeply in love.

The other two men were local Maqui and clearly a cut beneath King and Bernadette. One looked like the actor Charles Boyer. He was a thirty-something Frenchman named Doublemetre, handsome and debonair. The other was a big thug named Andre.

King said, "We heard a shot and were making our way over to see what it was all about."

I said, "My name is Jed. I'm an American. I bailed out of a B-26 a week ago. I ran into Suzy and the girls by accident." Suzy added by way of further explanation. "The girls and I are Jewish."

I said, "We are trying to get these girls into Swiss hands. But we ran into a German patrol. The shot you heard was me resolving a disagreement with one of them. He had some ideas about Suzy."

King, who I was quickly beginning to like and trust, got a hard look on his face. I could see that he was a very dangerous man. He said, "I know what they're doing to the Jews. Bernadette and I met because of that."

He added in a much less harsh tone, "Well, you've come to the right place buddy. Bernadette and I'll make sure that the girls are all safe, and we'll get you back to your outfit."

My heart sank. This was a day of painful realizations. I guess I'd always known that the past week was a fantasy out of time. My undeniable duty was to get back into the war, not loiter around France with this beautiful woman and five adorable little girls. There was no avoiding that obligation and I would be less of a man if I tried to shirk it.

Still, I felt more heartsick than I had when I got word that Betty had married Duke Williams.

I tried to look appropriately resolute as I said, "That would be great. But what do we do in the meantime?" King said, "You guys need to just wade on over and we'll take you to our base camp. It isn't very far." So, the six of us waded across the little mountain stream. It was ice cold. Then we all sat on a log, put on our socks and shoes, and we were ready to walk.

King said, "Let's stroll along together pal and you can catch me up on things in the States. It's been a while since I've talked to an American. Who d'you think'll win the World Series?" Bernadette, in turn, drifted back to join Suzy. It was obvious that they were slyly interrogating us to confirm that we were legitimate, which was reassuring. It proved that they had as much to lose as we did, if they were betrayed.

I noticed that Doublemetre had also made it a point of joining Bernadette and Suzy- Frenchmen!!

My clever little sprite was on my shoulders. She was listening in on our conversation, while trying to act like she didn't understand English.

King said disdainfully, "The Maqui up here are basically a bunch of communist bandits, who spend their time robbing rich people's chateaus rather than bothering the Germans. Bernadette and I came down here for a special project. We'll pull out once that's finished. You can come with us when we do."

He read my face. He said, "Don't worry about the girls. They're safe with Bernadette and me." He grinned and flexed his bicep. It was as big around as my thigh. How does anybody get arms like that?"

He added conspiratorially, "It involves an entire German Army that's based south of Belfort, mostly Hiwis."

I said puzzled, "Hiwis?"

He said contemptuously, "You know, Ostlegionen, Russians who've switched sides." He got a mischievous grin, "We're going to make sure that army stays north of the Rhone for the duration. That's all I can tell you.

He obviously wanted to change the subject. So, he said, "What's been going on since D-Day? Bernadette and I were there to witness the landings." The way he said it, it was obvious he had been standing in France when that occurred.

He added, "We were sent down here right after that. But the two of us want to get back to Paris for Christmas. Any idea of whether that's going to be possible?"

I knew what our strategic planners thought. But it was something I wasn't supposed to share. Still, I immediately liked and trusted this guy. I said, "The planners estimate that all of France will be German-free by then."

He gave me a wolfish smile and said, "About time!!"

I added, "I heard in our last briefing that the Allies had broken out of the bocage and were racing to pocket the German 7th Army in Falaise. We were bombing the railroad junctions south and east of there to keep them bottled up."

King looked even more pleased. He announced proudly, changing the subject one more time, "I was the manager of Harry's American Bar in Paris when the Krauts showed up."

I looked blank. He said, "Hemingway, Fitzgerald, George Gershwin??" I continued to look baffled. He said exasperated, "How old are you!!?" I said proudly, "Twenty-two." He laughed and said, "That explains it."

He continued with, "I met Bernadette in Paris and we've been together ever since."

Then he added, "Well, there was a short time while she was in England with a friend. But she joined their Special Operations Executive to get back to France and me. Wild Bill Donovan recruited both of us in '43 and we've been part of the American OSS ever since."

He sighed and said, "We've been intending to get married since the invasion. But we wanted to do it in Paris. I have a buddy there, who just has to be my best man."

Was there a hopeless romantic lurking beneath that ferocious exterior? King was the scariest person I've ever met. He looked like he could pick up a house. But his voice betrayed his deep feelings for his tiny partner. I understood the problem. I was having the same kind of confusing thoughts.

I had literally dropped into Suzy's life a week ago. We had absolutely nothing in common. She was a wealthy and sophisticated Parisian woman, exceptionally beautiful and caring of others. I was a bumpkin from small town America. The only thing I knew how to do was bomb the shit out of people. Yet, we had bonded over five little girls.

I felt it and I knew she did too. It was in the way we interacted. I had gone from coaxing her out of an armoire, to the intimacy that a man and a woman have if they're caring for children. We did things instinctively without needing to communicate.

Our bond grew as the simple love for our little charges began to merge into feelings for each other. It was a sense of mutual respect, of seeing the other person as a worthwhile partner, each in their own right.

Suzy was nurturing and supportive. Her focus was on the dynamics of our little group. I tried to provide some external vision and direction. It wasn't that Suzy was weak. She was rock solid. It was just that she couldn't be locked in on the needs of each little girl while reading a map and developing plans.

So, it was probably inevitable that we would be drawn closer-and-closer together. More importantly, I could appreciate Suzy's celestial beauty while not having a single carnal thought about her. The responsibility of childcare in a time of crisis focuses you on the important things, like mutual survival.

Hence, I was beginning to think of Suzy as my female counterpart, not some indiscriminate woman who I was helping to escape. In fact, I'd developed feelings for her that could probably be described as love if we'd ever had one romantic moment together.

At the same time, I also realized that I would have to leave Suzy behind the moment we contacted Allied forces and King seemed to think that would just be a matter of weeks. The problem was, I'd already experienced the consequences of leaving a woman to go to war.

Then there was Josette. She was embedded so deep in my heart that we could never be separated. Suzy told me that Josette was one of the original Jewish orphans. She was only three when her parents were taken, and she had nobody in this world.

Because children are innocent, she had bestowed the supreme honor of "Papa" on me. And as far as I was concerned that's the way it would be until my dying day. Yet, the Army Air Corps wasn't going to let me bring my little Josette along like an adopted puppy.

Finally, there was Doublemetre. He and Suzy were walking along joking and laughing in French, a language that I didn't understand. It was a problematically intimate scene, even though Bernadette was walking along with them too.

I could see Doublemetre's intent in every move, gesture, and nuance of voice. Suzy could probably see the same thing. So, why was she allowing him to flirt so outrageously with her.

King looked back at them, then he glanced at me. He said evenly, "I fell in love the same way." He was talking about me, not Doublemetre.

He said, "Dangerous times and places sort the sheep from the goats. That one is like Bernadette. You can trust her." That was reassuring, I think.

The trail had gotten progressively wider as we walked along. Finally, it petered out into a flower filled meadow. King kept walking like he was coming home from work. In many respects he was. Then we arrived at the camp. Well - it wasn't exactly a camp. It was massive.

It must have been built as a hunting lodge by some self-indulgent French aristocrat. It was in a small clearing in a cliff face. The cliff loosely surrounded the lodge on three sides and the only approach was through the forest on the fourth side. It was a brilliant hiding place.

It was a half-timbered Tudor monstrosity, out of one of the Grimm Brothers' wildest dreams. It was made up to look like a fantasy lodge in the forest. They did that a lot in the Nineteenth Century. There was a slate roof covered in moss. There were diamond grid windows with stained glass scenes. Finally, there was a giant pair of moose antlers over the door. As far as I knew, moose haven't been sighted south of the Baltic since the ice age.

I stood there staring. Suzy came out of the of the forest, covered her mouth in astonishment and muttered, "Mon Dieu!!" The little girls all tittered. It was like a fairy tale castle.

Bernadette said matter of fact, "This is one of my family's lodges. That's why we're staying here." King added, like it was the biggest joke in the world, "Like I said, she's royalty."

We entered the great-room and gazed wonderingly at the twenty-foot-tall ceilings and the walls covered with the heads of bear, deer, and every other animal I'd ever heard of including a rhinoceros. Natalie said disdainfully, "Quel affichage dégoûtant." I didn't need a translator to tell me what she'd said. The girls were totally grossed out.

Bernadette laughed and said, "I've always felt that way too." She turned to Suzy and said, "Shall we get them settled in? Where have they been sleeping." Suzy said casually, "Haylofts."

Bernadette looked at all of them with respect and said, "Well, we have a nice warm bed for each of you." And then she led them off down the hall. I heard Josette's sweet little voice say, "I want to sleep in Papa's room."

Meanwhile, King said, "Why don't we meet the Maqui cell that we've been embedded with." He added under his breath, "They're all scum from the Marseilles docks. The only reason they haven't robbed this place is that we don't let them have guns. I make sure of that."

I could see his point. There were four others besides Doublemetre and Andre. They were lounging around on the antique furniture, smoking, and looking like their only mission was to empty the wine cellar.

King said in loud French, "Voici Jed Sharpe. Il est un de mes amis et je veux que vous le traitiez avec respect ou vous me répondrez!" They didn't look nervous as much as they were resentful. They all reacted like he'd threatened them on my behalf. It was clear that none of them would challenge King.

He said, "I just told them that you were a friend of mine and I want them to treat you with respect or they would have a problem with me. None of them are to be trusted. I'd kill them all if it wouldn't mess up our mission."

Speaking of faith, the girls all walked back in at that point. Doublemetre, who was lounging on the overstuffed couch, said something playful to Suzy. She answered in the same manner. My blood pressure went through the roof.

Still, I had no right to say anything and I kept my mouth shut. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Bernadette staring at me intently.

For dinner, we all sat around a grand table that looked like it had once hosted some really decadent hunting parties. This time it hosted five little girls, Suzy and me, Bernadette, and King. It was candle lit. But not for romantic purposes. There was no electricity.

With her gorgeous face, huge dark eyes, and mop of curly brown hair, Bernadette was just as exquisitely beautiful as Suzy. She was sitting across from the six of us, lovingly holding King's big paw. She said to Suzy, "You and the girls are all from Paris? I was living on the Rue St. Germaine when King and I got involved in this." She gestured vaguely around her. She was talking about World War Two.

Suzy said, "I live on the Rue Guynemer, near the Rue de Fleurus, across from the Luxembourg. Bernadette said impressed, "So you ARE one of the Milhauds. I suspected that. But I wasn't sure." Even in the candle-light I could see that Suzy was blushing.

Suzy said, "That all changed on June 22nd, 1940. I created a refuge for Jewish children. We were hiding in Izieu when the Gestapo showed up and took them all away. We only survived because we were up on the mountain at the time."

Bernadette's face took on the aspect of one of those small, fierce birds of prey. She said, "You don't need to tell me about Nazi atrocities. King and I got together rescuing Jewish women from sexual slavery." I thought, "Holy shit!!"

All eyes turned toward me. It was my turn. I shrugged and said, "I'm just an American shit-kicker who used to drive a B-26 until my luck ran out. Suzy and those little girls are the real heroes."

Suzy spluttered and said, "Nonsense, you are kind, brave and resourceful. Josette has even decided that you are her new Papa. There can be no greater honor than the love of a little girl."

I gave them all a sheepish grin and said, "No question about that. I just don't know what I'm going to do about her when I have to go back."

Suzy gave me the first real intimate glance she have ever given me and said, "We'll still be here when you return."

I would have thought about that earth-shaking pronouncement. But at that instant, a huge fight broke out in the room where the Maqui were eating. Both King and I jumped to our feet and ran in the direction of the commotion.

Bernadette rose, walked determinedly over to where her ever-present Sten was sitting. She casually jacked the bolt and went back to stand between Suzy and the girls. The look on her face said that nobody was getting past her. For the first time, I saw the Commando beneath Bernadette's exquisite façade.

I paused in the doorway just to figure out what was going on. You're right. I'm way too over-analytic. While I was standing there like a dork, King went barreling past me and hit the group of six struggling men like a bowling ball hooking into the pocket for a strike.

It was obvious that two of the Maqui had had a disagreement. Andre was one of them. He had just ended the fight by burying an eight-inch flick knife in the other man's chest and was standing over the body. That's when he saw King coming. So, he tried to stab King.

King was just as lethally quick as he was unearthly strong. So, he danced past Andre's feeble jab and without as much as a second of hesitation hit him in the head. The brass knuckles on King's fist seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. There was a distinct crack and then there were two dead men on the floor.

King turned to face the last four and his look was terrifyingly calm. He gestured to himself and said, "Anyone else want some of this?" That was in English, which none of them understood. But they couldn't miss the message.

There was some chattering in French, and they stooped to pick up the bodies. They made their way out the front door and headed in the direction of the woods.

King turned to me and said, "Violence is the only thing they understand. But now we're two men down. So, I'm afraid I'm going to have to read you into our mission."

*****

King and Bernadette had been sent to blow up the Génissiat Dam. The invasion of southern France was slated for three days hence, and the roadway on top of that dam was the main route to the invasion beaches for the German 19th army.

The dam was the choke point. That would destroy the only viable crossing for German armor and flood the Rhone. Thus, blowing it would effectively bottle up the Germans while the beachhead got established.

Bernadette was the key to the mission, not King. She might be small and elegant, but the Brits had trained her to be the very best RDX agent in France. The fact that her family had traditionally owned the land where her particular set of skills was being applied was a bonus. The Maqui were the pack mules, sent there to haul the RDX to the dam site. They were Doublemetre's men.

I found out from King that Doublemetre was actually an Albanian named Graz, who'd Frenchified himself as he rose up the ranks of the Marseilles mob. All I knew about him was that the slimy fucker was cunning and conniving, and his patriotism was strictly limited to lining his own pockets not advancing the cause of French liberation.

We were heading out the next day with big packs full of RDX. And there were only four Maqui left to haul them. So, I was the additional beast of burden. The thought of walking for a day with enough explosive to blow us all to kingdom-come was daunting. But Bernadette assured me that the RDX, which she called "Torpex" was as harmless as toothpaste until she set the detonators.

I spent our last evening with the girls and Suzy. That had been our routine for the past few days. We wanted to give our girls a feeling of family. We were sitting in a cozy circle beside the fireplace, the soft light of the fire highlighted each of their dear little faces. Suzy's eyes had a special softness and beauty.

King and Bernadette left us alone and the Maqui were all getting drunk outside around a fire. They bunked in an outbuilding, where the prior owners hung the game after the hunt. King had made it clear that he would use the same hooks to hang any of them if he caught them in the house after dark. So, we were protected from them, especially Doublemetre. I didn't appreciate his relentless pursuit of Suzy.