Thank you, everyone, for your positive comments and support for my writing! This week we will travel to 1915 France, where Hélène’s daughter, Lili, was living with the Tellier family. Not able to support her daughter on her own, in 1910 Hélène left Lili in Barisis in north-eastern France while she went to Saint-Pétersbourg to work as a governess. As soon as WW1 started, a large area of France around the Belgian border was occupied by the Germans as they marched to Paris. Three years later, Barisis, like many of the villages, was completely destroyed as both sides fought over this territory. Sometimes, only a few metres of ground changed hands after months of trench warfare: The Battle of the Somme, Hill 70, The Battle of the Marne were just some key battles fought here. In 1916, luckily, Lili and the Tellier family managed to escape the area, and walked - actually walked! - to Montargis, where Lili’s grandmother, Charlotte, was now living.
The following excerpt is from 1915, when the Tellier family was living under German occupation in Barisis. While her biological mother, Hélène, was in Russia, it had been agreed that Lili would call her Tellier parents maman and papa, and consider their children, Roger, 14, and Denise, 10, as her siblings.
‘Maman said it had only been eight months since the Germans had taken over their part of France, but to Lili, who had just turned seven years old, it felt like an entire lifetime. Nothing had been the same since last August. In the fall, they had harvested what was left of their ransacked garden and orchards, but were only allowed to keep a small portion for themselves and the rest, which they would normally have sold to buy provisions to get through the long, cold winter, went to the Germans.
“Papa, there are some new regulations posted on the church door today,” said Roger as he and Lili arrived at the house after walking through the village to deliver their requisition of eggs to the German barracks.
“What now?” asked papa with a sigh.
“The occupiers would like to remind us of the 19:00 curfew, which from now on is going to be strictly enforced. We are ordered to keep the streets cleaner, and it says that no further travel passes will be issued.”
“And don’t forget the part about planting,” said Lili.
“Yes, the notice said that they will be distributing seeds for the crops they want us to grow, and that all arable land is to be cultivated according to their instructions.”
“Anything else?” asked papa sarcastically.
“Yes. You’re not going to like this. All French citizens must now salute German officers.”
“It’s an outrage,” exclaimed papa. “We will discuss it later.”
When the family met over a meager dinner of boiled potatoes a few hours later, maman and papa told the children that they must follow the new regulation and salute German officers when they saw them.
“But how will we know which ones are the officers?” asked Lili.
“They are the ones looking smartly dressed and pleased with themselves,” said Roger.
“You mustn’t talk like that!” admonished maman.
“Well, it’s one thing to feed them, but it makes my blood boil to salute them. Papa, what would happen if we don’t? What can they do to us? We’re just children.”
“There are severe punishments, I’m afraid. You remember the Colbert boy? He’s a little older than you. He was caught hiding a carrier pigeon, of all things, and I just heard he was sent to Germany to work in a factory to help with the war effort. Their war effort.”
“We must all be very careful,” said maman. “Please be co-operative when you see the Germans, but,” she added, with a glance at her husband, “no need to be overly co-operative.”
“What do you mean?” asked Denise.
“Well, just do the minimum they’re asking for. We don’t want to be punished, but we also don’t want our neighbours to think we’re helping the enemy. We are French citizens and we have our pride.” Lili thought she saw a little tear in maman’s eye and reached up to put her arm around her shoulders.
Lili decided not to tell everyone that she thought the German soldiers were nice; one of them had given her a piece of chocolate the other day, saying, in his broken French and with hand gestures, that her blonde hair and blue eyes reminded him of his daughter. He leaned over and showed her a faded photograph pulled from his wallet. She had gratefully accepted the chocolate from his proffered hand and had run away as quickly as possible.’
The photo is of the Barisis Town Hall around 1915 during the occupation, when Lili was living there. Merci à ma cousine, Mary Jane.