Part XVIII One of the most profitable sidelines of farming in this part of France during the German occupation was the keeping of bees. Honey as a substitute for sugar, which was always scarce, was so much sought after that it fetched very high prices. My friends the Mougels, estimated that they cleared the equivalent of 75 pounds ($150) profit per annum from 18 hives. M. Mougel suggested that if we moved down to the lower farm, we could occupy ourselves by making some new hives. This appealed strongly to Gaby and myself -Bebert was not so enthusiastic because he felt it would not be so safe, being only a few minutes walk from La Bresse and with farms all around us. I thought the risk worthwhile, not only because living conditions would be so much better, but also because I longed to have some useful work to do. I felt too that I would in some small way be repaying the Mougels for the hospitality which they were giving me so ungrudgingly, and, never let it be forgotten at such terrible risk to themselves. An additional attraction was the wireless set. I was hungry for news. It was therefore with some misgiving mixed with relief that we that we left the mountaintop one night bound for the larger farm below. Our workshop was a fair sized barn directly above the stable. The bench was set below a tiny window from which we could see the next farm up the hill and only 150 yards away. The back of the barn was stacked with hay twelve feet high. All our tools were made by Gaby’s “grandpere.” Altogether we made16 hives. Then M. Mougel announced it was time to rob the hives of their honey. He would bring the combs into the kitchen, and place them, four at a time, into a barrel which was swung horizontally between two supports. In the centre of the barrel was a wooden frame. The barrel was then turned by a handle and the centrifugal action forced the liquid honey to the outer sides of the barrel, from which it was drained into pots. The residue of the combs was placed into basins, and at intervals the members of the family would come and suck these combs, spitting out the wax into a receptacle to be used later for a variety of uses. When the honey was cloudy with wax it was heated for a few hours, and after the water had been evaporated, a sweet confection was formed. At about four o’clock every afternoon we used to assemble in the kitchen and have steamed potatoes, cheese and honey. If Madame went out for a moment, Gaby would rush over to the crock and seize an extra slice of bread on which to spread honey. When visitors came, I remained hidden in the store room behind the kitchen on these occasions I found the honey pot quite a solace. Part XVII This consisted of a panel which, when pushed, opened into a cupboard. Behind the cupboard was another panel opening into a passage under the hay and finally a loose board which led to the outside of the house. We completed this during the hay harvest, or what is known locally as “la premiere coupe. “Two months later in August the second cut would be taken and the grass being shorter the hay would be more succulent, I was told. Emma’s boyfriend, Robert, was shown our escape exit, as were the rest of the family’ Madame was rather unhappy when she realised its purpose. No doubt she pictured us playing hide and seek with heavily armed members of the Gestapo! Micket, the dog was highly suspicious of our secret panels and refused to go through. One Sunday a girl named Helene paid us a visit, accompanied by Angele, who had been Gaby’s girlfriend at one time, but as Gaby was always in hiding at the time she got rather bored and so the affair was off. I suppose I must have been rather the centre of attraction (or curiosity) at this time. After months of this queer existence I was quite accustomed to being discussed and analysed ad nauseum. They were always surprised that no matter how atrocious my French I could understand them. These visits broke a monotony which I found very boring. The mornings were not so bad, because I could usually find chores and jobs to do and there was normally somebody about thehouse. In the afternoons, however, Gaby and I were left alone. We dare not go outside. Having no plans or foreseeable prospects, the sense of boredom and frustration which I felt was almost insupportable. Gaby had an ancient telescope and I spent hours peering through it at the valley far below. I got to know almost every farm by name, and Gaby told me all the gossip connected with all the various families. If we saw a man on the road a mile away Gaby would tell me his life history. We could see something like twenty farms from our window, and I knew exactly to what degree the family in each could be trusted. I tried sleeping in the afternoon but I found it impossible in the daylight. My great standby was the French-English dictionary which my Maquis link friend brought to me in Nancy. Aside from this my reading matter consistedof four French copies of the American Illustrated Weekly, “Look” dated 1930 and a French mail order catalogue of the year1933. I can still remember being surprised at how quickly I was learning to read French. Every evening at dusk Robert would arrive with his latest wireless news from London. He was very much in love with Emma, so that Gaby, Rene, Bernadette and I would have to put up with their courting every evening! Robert would always shake hands and say “Commentsa va?” He was solemn and slow of speech. He had been a prisoner of war in Danzig for three years and was released to help his widowed mother, who had a farm with half a dozen or so cows. If a stranger came to the door I was hustled away upstairs. I would anxiously listen through the floor boards to ascertain whether the visitor was friend or foe! One of the characteristic sounds by which I will always be reminded of that strangee interlude was the tinkling of cowbells from the hundred or so cows that were brought up from the farms to the community pastures that surrounded our little cottage. On the summit of a mountain only three kilometres away was a German observation post and every night two or three German soldiers kept watch for Allied planes. About the middle of August the R.A.F. raided Stuttgart in great strength on two successive nights and the roar of their motors filled the air for at least three quarters of an hour The Jerries got it well and truly I could see the glow of Stuttgart burning from my window well over 100 miles away . .
Posted on: Wed, 21 Aug 2013 03:05:37 +0000
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