Chapter Text
"In the First World War, victory had been ours, but we would soon fail the peace that followed. Our leaders appeased the growing evil instead of fighting it, sacrificing our future. We vainly reinforced our borders with concrete, while we evacuated our children from the cities. There was something terrible growing with our old enemy, and no one seemed able to stop it. The world was about to find out what happens when an entire nation is swept by madness."
"What was one to do? Surrender..? Collaborate..? Or RESIST."
France had been invaded on May 10th, 1940, only days after Manon Batiste's 28th Birthday, on June 22nd, France's leaders surrendered to the overwhelming forces of Nazi Germany. Yet despite the humiliation of the surrender at Compiègne, there were still those who had not even yet begun to fight; Manon and her brother, Jacques, decided to take up the mantle as soldiers when the professional army had been defeated. Marshal Pétain and the other puppets may have surrendered, but the free people of France had NOT. The fortitude and bravery of those like Jacques and Manon Batiste kept the spirit of freedom and liberty alive in a time when a great shadow of evil was cast over the European continent. Two young citizens from the Normandy village of Dubuisson are now warriors of the shadows in the streets of Paris.
When they first started, they passed around leaflets and clandestine newspapers with news gathered from the few radio transmitters their compatriots had managed to set up, giving those around them a sense of hope as they shared the words of Churchill and De Gaulle. The siblings and other brave French soldiers of fortune would begin to strike against lone sentries, checkpoints, and outposts in the dead of night to collect arms and ammunition for further operations.
With these small victories and acts of defiance, they built up strength and confidence, moving from isolated sentries and checkpoints to German patrols, lone supply trucks to convoys, cutting phone lines to destroying radio relay stations, and even targeting some high-ranking Officers. But these actions did not come without a price; members of the Maquis lost their lives, and the Germans executed civilians as reprisals for these acts. At times, it felt like too big a price, but the Resistance did not lose heart, and the French people endured. Manon, Jacques, and the Resistance kept alive the hope of freedom and liberty in an occupied country. But the Nazi's were reinforcing all the time, their presence making it harder for the resistance in Paris to get their hands on much-needed supplies.
May 1st, 1942, It was late in the day when Manon arrived at her brother's apartment. She had seen the note he left under her door, mentioning a "Special Birthday Surprise," and immediately rushed over on her bicycle before the Service d'Ordre Légionnaire traitors began their nighttime patrols. She walked up the stairs to her brother's apartment and knocked three times in quick succession, their code for identifying friends versus potential Gestapo agents. The door swung open, and the tall, lean, smiling form of Jacques stood in the doorway, his arms open for his sister.
"Ah, Manon ma petite!" Jacques took Manon in his arms and kissed both her cheeks in warm welcome. "You had no trouble getting here, I hope."
"No, no trouble." Replied Manon. "It is good to see you, Jacques." She walked further into the apartment, which appeared to be any other Parisian apartment, except that there were a few unwashed dishes on the table, and an empty bottle of wine left on the kitchen counter. "Mon dieu, Jacques... you could take the time to clean up here."
"Well, between everything that happens these days, who has time to housekeep?" Joked Jacques. "Besides, why think about the state of my apartment when we have your birthday surprise to consider!" He grabbed a fresh bottle of wine from the cupboard and glasses, and brought out a pastry box. "Joyeux anniversaire, chère sœur."
"Oh, Jacques." Manon pulled her brother into a big hug. "C'était si gentil de ta part. But, you did not call me here to celebrate my Birthday with wine and pastries."
"No, I suppose not." He began pouring the wine. "I will say it is a matter of the highest importance. You know that little Danish boy who lives below me? You know, Niels? The one who keeps asking me about the Résistance?"
Manon searched her memory and recalled the young fifteen-year-old boy with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. He was a bit on the pudgy side, but otherwise very fit and energetic. "Yes, I remember him. He's always following you around and asking to join, Non?"
"Exactly!" Exclaimed Jacques. "Well, he's brought me a tip that we should take advantage of!"
Manon put up her hand and stopped her Brother. "Wait- Jacques... you are listening to a tip from a fifteen-year-old boy?"
"Oui!"
"And you take it seriously?!" Manon was astounded. "You realize what you are saying is madness, don't you?"
Jacques rolled his eyes. "Manon, this boy has been begging me to join for a long time, and his own country is under the boot of the Boche just like France, why would he lie?"
"I can think of many reasons, Jacques. For one thing, he could be in the pay of the Boche or Darnand's Traitors-" Jacques took his sister's shoulders.
"He's not." Stated Jacques firmly. "I know he's not."
"And how do you know? Hmm?" Manon stared right through her brother, who gave no response except to let go of her shoulders, slightly dejected. Manon sighed in frustration and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Tu fais trop facilement confiance, Jacques... you and I both know the best weapon we have is secrecy, and something like this could compromise everything we have done so far."
It was then that Jacques rushed to his small and disorganized bureau, took a paper, and handed it to Manon. It was an official Wehrmacht ordnance manifest listing rifles, machine pistols, grenades, explosives, some heavy machine guns, and thousands of rounds of ammunition. She scrutinized the document, reading it over three times to ensure it was genuine.
"Where did you get this?" Asked Manon, Jacques had a smug grin growing on his face.
"Niels got it for me." He said proudly. "You remember how the Nazis took over the Conservatoire de Musique de Paris, and are using it as a makeshift armory? Well, all this ordnance is being taken by truck to the Gestapo Headquarters in Dubuisson."
"This would be more than enough to resupply our cache of weapons!" Manon exclaimed. She was still a bit apprehensive; something still did not sit right about the situation. "But I do not know, Jacques, I have a terrible feeling about this. Why are they taking weapons and ammunition to Dubuisson, our old home? To say nothing that a fifteen-year-old stole this from the Nazis?"
"Why do the Boche do anything?" Shrugged Jacques. "And Niel's stealing the manifest? The Boche thought him harmless and let their guard down. It is perfect, Manon. Besides, it is the perfect present for you, more guns and munitions, and plenty of Nazis left either dead or raging in our wake! What could be more perfect!"
Manon thought it over for a moment, and while she was still skeptical about the whole thing, she decided it was worth the risk. "Très bien, I'll go along."
"Magnifique! I knew I could count on you!" Cheered Jacques as he handed her a wine glass and lifted his own. "Vive la France!"
Manon raised her glass and toasted with her brother. "Vive la France!"
They drank the wine and ate the pastries, talking and laughing as if the war were far away, when the reality was that it was just beyond the threshold of Jacques' apartment. But for the moment, they had a small celebration of Manon's 30th Birthday before they departed to fight the fascists. The small respite between brother and sister was over far too soon, but they had their duty, and soon left the apartment and stopped on the street.
"We'll go separately." Said Jacques. "We'll meet below the Eiffel Tower at ten o'clock, after dark, make sure to bring your pistol and some petrol bombs. And remember, Manon, if anything happens, if anything goes wrong, head to the catacombs. You'll be safe there."
Manon scoffed. "Who's worrying now, Jacques? You should worry more about yourself." She saw how serious the usually jovial Jacques had become, as if he knew something Manon did not. "I'll take care of myself, Jacques, you just make sure you do the same, D'accord?"
"Je vais." Replied Jacques, a sad smile on his face. "Remember, ten o'clock." Jacques gave his sister one last hug before walking up the street past a few Parisian civilians and an SOL officer eyeing everyone with suspicion.
Manon grabbed her bicycle and began to pedal back to her apartment to get prepared for the evening's celebration.'
It was a quarter to ten, night had fallen, and Manon had changed into her brown leather jacket and dark grey pants, perfect for sneaking around and fighting. She had been creeping through the alleys and back streets to avoid the Vichy SOL Militia to reach her brother at the Eiffel Tower; they were out in force tonight, but Manon made the best of the shadows. She stayed out of sight, making sure not to be noticed by the stray eyes of the Vichy thugs. She had packed a Walther P38 and some petrol bombs in her satchel. As she continued toward the tower, she also noticed a few men dressed in black overcoats and dark fedoras accompanying some of the SOL Militia and Gestapo. Manon made sure to keep note of where they were and the direction in which they were patrolling. If the Gestapo were out, it meant another obstacle that would have to be overcome in getting the guns and ammunition.
Manon was soon out of the narrow streets and alleys and managed to cross the Champ de Mars without incident as she made her way to the northeast corner of the Eiffel Tower. She soon found Jacques there, waiting in the shadow of the northeast support of the magnificent tower.
"Manon..." Whispered Jacques, peaking out of the shadows. He was wearing a blue beret, a tan sweatshirt, and denim pants, all the while trying to keep a German MP40 Machine Pistol hidden behind his back. "Right on time." Manon moved to the sound of her brother's voice and embraced him in reunion. "We must hurry, les voyous de Darnand sont partout."
"Well..." Whispered Manon. "Let us get going."
The pair rushed away from the tower and back into the city, quickly and quietly crossing the Seine over the Pont d'Iéna, making their way through the city towards the Conservatoire de Musique. They watched as the Darnand's Service d'Ordre Légionnaire militia patrolled the streets, spotting more Gestapo men with them.
"Why are the Gestapo out tonight...?" Asked Manon in a whisper. "Usually, they are all drunk in the brothels of Paris." Manon shook her head; she did not like what was going on, it made her incredibly suspicious and doubtful of the plan.
"Hey..." Jacques squeezed his sister's shoulder. "Everything is going to be all right! Tu t'inquiètes trop."
"And you do not worry enough..." She replied.
The siblings continued to watch as the patrolling SOL Men and Gestapo Officers turned the corner. They quickly crossed the street and ducked into an alley. It was then that a Kübelwagen passed by, the headlights almost giving the pair away before they hid behind a few wooden crates. Both Manon and Jacques watched as it stopped, picked up the Vichy Militiamen and Gestapo, and drove off.
"Où vont-ils?" Asked Manon.
"A disturbance somewhere else..." Jacques took off his cap and wiped away some sweat. "Probably a few drunken men at one of those brothels you mentioned, but it gives us the chance to get the guns and ammunition! Allons-y!"
They made their way up the alley and back onto the street. They saw no one as they walked up to the Conservatoire de Musique, until they saw a Werhmacht Sentry standing at the door. It was only one, but one shot was all it would take to have half of the German garrison down around them.
"Merde..." Whispered Jacques.
Manon moved up towards the corner and peered at the sentry, then back at her brother.
"Leave it to me." Said Manon.
Manon handed Jacques her pistol and satchel, and moved out of the alley and sauntered along the sidewalk in clear view of the sentry. It did not take long for her to be spotted by the German Soldier. He grabbed his rifle and shouted at Manon. "Halt!" The Sentry quickly approached Manon, his rifle at the ready, but his demeanor softening as he approached the Frenchwoman. "Was machst du nach der Ausgangssperre draußen?"
"Je suis désolé, monsieur." Manon began, who now appeared nervous and meek. "Je ne parle pas allemand." Her little show was working fast, as she was garnering a bit of sympathy from the Boche sentry.
The Sentry sighed and slung his rifle onto his shoulder, reaching into his pocket for a small booklet on French translations. As he pulled the book from his breast pocket, Manon took a knife from her pocket and stuck it into the German soldier's heart. Before he could cry out in pain, Manon covered his mouth and made sure to keep him quiet. She pushed him against the wall, where he slumped down against it, his lifeblood spreading out in the front of his uniform. Manon pulled the knife from the Sentry's chest and cleaned the blood off on the soldier's sleeve.
She waved to her brother, and he rushed to the door of the Conservatoire de Musique. Jaques began to pick the lock, while Manon pulled the dead German into the alley, all the while keeping her eyes open for any passing patrols. Once she was sure that the corpse of the German sentry was out of sight, Manon rushed to the door beside Jacques just as he unlocked it.
"Et voila!" Exclaimed Jacques. "Now we get the truck and disappear into the night!"
The pair rushed inside, and the entire school was filled to the brim with rifles, machine pistols, ammunition, explosives, and even some brand-new heavy machine guns. They crept through the building, finding no one inside. The pair proceeded to the back, seeing no guard in sight, but they heard German voices in one of the administrative offices, along with the clinking glasses and hearty laughing. The siblings proceeded to the garage at the back of the school, previously for the school buses, now a motor pool and loading dock for German Opel Blitz trucks. There, the siblings found a truck already loaded to the brim with everything they needed.
"There we are!" Said Jacques, he turned back to his sister. "I'll start the truck, you open the door."
Manon nodded and proceeded to go to the garage door switch as Jacques hotwired the truck. Once she turned it, the garage began to open up, and suddenly, the whole place was lit up with the headlights of several vehicles blocking their escape. The Gestapo and the SOL Militia were there, their weapons pointed at the truck, a German Halftrack with its machine gunner aiming steadily at Jaques in the driver's seat.
"Batiste, tu es encerclé! Sors du camion et rends-toi!" Shouted a Gestapo Officer in broken French.
For a moment, time seemed to stop for Manon and Jacques; it was all a trap. In front of them were at least two dozen Vichy Militia and Gestapo, with a few Wehrmacht troops scattered among them. At this moment, Jacques made a decision; someone had to escape, and Jacques had to make sure of it.
"Run to the catacombs, Manon!" He shouted from the truck. "Allez, allez!"
Before Manon could say anything, Jacques put the truck into gear and drove head-on into the Milita and Gestapo.
"Jacques, wait!" She shouted!
The Boche and their Vichy allies opened fire with their rifles, machine pistols, and the machine gun mounted on the halftrack cut loose, but nothing could stop the inevitable. The truck caught fire and slammed straight into the halftrack, blowing up both vehicles instantaneously. The shrapnel caught all those who did not duck under cover, and everyone was now scrambling for cover as every car seemed to be caught in the inferno. The ammunition in the truck was going off, wounding the Gestapo officers and Darnand's Militiamen.
"Jacques!" Screamed Manon, terror and anguish in her voice.
She watched as the truck, half-track, and Kübelwagens burned, and time seemed to stand still as she watched the flames dance from the wreckage. From the corner of her eye, Manon saw a wounded Gestapo officer reach for a pistol, but she took her own and shot him right in the chest. She moved towards the Gestapo officer, making sure he was dead. It was then that, out of the corner of her eye, Manon saw something glinting on the ground near the burning wreckage of the munitions truck. She approached and saw that it was Jacques' golden locket. She opened it and saw a picture of herself and Jacques when they were both very young, along with their mother and father. It was taken in front of their home in Dubuisson, long before the war, a time that seemed to be a million years ago, when it was only yesterday.
"Jacques..." Whispered Manon, as a single tear rolled down her cheek, as she held the locket to her heart. "Je t'aime, mon doux frère…"
Manon looked up at the hellish scene, not knowing what to do; everything had gone wrong so quickly, and now her brother was dead. It was then that she realized she was out in the open, and more Germans would come. Manon ran from the scene, ducking into the shadows and alleyways before making her way to the Père Lachaise Cemetery, where she could enter the catacombs. She did not think now, not of Jacques, not of her sorrow, not of any feelings that would make her stop; she only ran. But Manon knew with certainty that her war was not over; it had only just begun.
Manon ducked into alleyways and dark corners whenever she heard a siren or a car speeding in her direction. Looking back through the night, she could see the smoke rising from where her brother gave his life. She shook her head, focused on her escape, and continued to move towards the Père Lachaise Cemetery, where she would find her entrance to the catacombs, the main base of their group's operations in Paris.
Manon soon arrived at the cemetery and found no one in sight. She rushed through the iron gates and began looking for the entrance to the catacombs. She soon found a lace handkerchief near one of the graves, half buried near the gravestone, seeming to point towards a mausoleum. She followed the signs left by her fellow Resistance fighters and found her way to the entrance, a wooden shack in the far corner of the cemetery. She entered quickly and soon found a wooden hatch covered by crates. Manon pushed the crates out of the way and opened the hatch, finding a ladder to take her down to the catacombs. She climbed down quickly, closing the hatch behind her.
Manon climbed down into the abyss of darkness, the temperature cooling around her as she climbed further below into the labyrinth of the dead. When Manon reached the bottom, she was surrounded by the darkness; only the faint light of a distant torch guided her. She was mindful of every step; she took her pistol from her pocket and kept it ready in case any Gestapo or Militia had infiltrated the Resistance's underground network. She advanced cautiously towards the light of the torch before she flattened herself against the wall. The faint sound of footsteps grew louder as someone drew nearer to Manon. She put away her pistol and drew her knife, ready to pounce on whomever was skulking about the catacombs.
Manon crouched low, her knuckles white as she gripped her knife, waiting for the opportunity to ambush whoever was getting closer. She then saw the left leg of the anonymous individual. In one rapid movement, Manon grabbed their ankle and swept them off their feet, soon towering over them with her knife at their throat. In the dim torchlight of the catacombs, she could faintly see a young man with a brown fedora, dark green sweater, a gray jacket, and dark blue pants, wearing the tricolor armband of Free France.
"The magpie has made her nest." Said Manon, a code that required a quick response, or death to the man with her blade at his throat.
"The sparrow flies free tonight." Replied the man on the ground.
Manon took a deep breath as she pulled back her dagger and helped the man up, and grabbed the 'liberated' K98 Rifle he had dropped when she had ambushed him, handing it to him in apology.
"Désolé, I thought you were the Gestapo, or one of Darnand's men." Said Manon.
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, Mademoiselle." The man chuckled, massaging his bruised shoulder. "Who are-" He was cut off by a sudden shout from behind.
"Henri?" Came another voice. "Que se passe-t-il?"
From around the corner came another man, a man well known to Manon and her brother, it was Alain Garnier. A tall, lanky individual with light brown hair and green eyes. He wore a dark gray shirt and dark trousers, and he carried a British Enfield Rifle in one hand and a lantern in the other. He looked at Henri, and his eyes went wide when he saw Manon's face half silhouetted in the shadows of the catacombs.
"Manon!" He put down the lantern and rushed to embrace her. Manon wrapped her arms around Alain as if she were wrapping herself in a blanket, trying to escape the nightmare of the last few hours. Alain pulled away and looked at Manon's slightly disheveled appearance. "What happened? Where is Jacques?"
With that question, Manon was pulled back to reality. She took a deep breath and looked straight at Alain, shaking her head before looking back down at the cold ground.
"He's dead, Alain..." Stated Manon, flatly, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. "We got into the Conservatoire de Musique and tried to take a truck loaded with arms and ammunition, and it..." She paused, composing herself, trying not to relive what she had seen. "It was a trap; the Gestapo were waiting for us, Jacques sacrificed himself so that I could get away..."
Manon shook her head. "No, only Jacques and I knew about the shipment; he got the information from..." She took a moment to think about Jacques' young neighbor, Niels, the one who stole the manifest so easily from the Germans. "Wait... wait, Jacques' neighbor, Niels. A young Dutch boy... He is the one who got the ordnance manifest and gave it to him."
"That young boy who follows after him?" Alain shook his head. "It's not possible, Manon, I've seen him, he worships the ground Jacques walks on."
"Right now, Alain, all I know is that Jacques is dead and that we might have been betrayed. Perhaps not only us, but maybe the entire group." Spat Manon, venom in her voice. "And I know I am going to find out who is responsible."
Alain nodded, thinking silence better than arguing. Manon ran her fingers through her hair, shaking her head as her mind raced with a mix of adrenaline, anger, fear, and dejection. She tried to calm herself, to clear her mind for a moment, but all she thought of was a burning truck with her brother's corpse riddled with German bullets. She was brought out of her thoughts when Henri walked up, holding a tin cup filled with simmering coffee.
"Mademoiselle?" He gestured to the cup, steam gently wafting up from rich brown liquid. Manon took the cup and nodded at Henri.
"Merci..." She replied, taking a long sip, savoring every ounce of warmth as the coolness of the catacombs wrapped around her. She looked up at the roof of the crypt, thinking about her next move, knowing that Paris would be dangerous now. She then thought of the manifest that Jacques showed her earlier that day, and everything at his apartment that could point back to the Resistance. "Mon dieu... Alain!" Manon stood up and rushed to Alain, who rushed to meet her when he heard his name.
"What is it, Manon?" Asked Alain.
"Jacques' apartment!" She began. "Everything there could lead back to us; someone has to go out and take care of it, otherwise the Gestapo will have us all before dawn."
"I'll send someone at once!" Alain turned to one of the other men. "Cédric! Va à l'appartement de Jacques, prends tout ce qui peut nous ramener à nous!" Cédric nodded and proceeded towards the same ladder where Manon had entered the catacombs. Alain turned back towards Manon, who was trying to control her breathing. "What do you want to do now, Manon?"
Manon turned to Alain and watched as Cédric climbed the ladder back up towards the surface streets of Paris. She knew that she had to get out of Paris; she had been seen, the Gestapo knew that Jacques had an accomplice, but she knew she still had anonymity on her side since no one but her brother knew of Manon.
"I'll have to get out of the city." She said flatly. "Is there anywhere you can think of that I can escape and remain hidden until the Boche pigs stop searching?"
"As a matter of fact, I do know of a place." Smiled Alain. He led Manon toward a corner of the main chamber and pulled out a few loose bricks and pushed away some debris, revealing a small crawlspace with weapons, ammunition, explosives, rations, travel and identification papers, and a few maps. "Jacques was prepared in case something happened," Alain began rifling through a few of the documents until he found the right set. "He has a friend in Sainte-Marie du Champs, his name is Fabrice Delacriox, if we can get you out of the city, he'll be most happy to have you with his group until you can return to Paris."
Manon nodded. "He prepared for everything..." She took Jacques's locket from her pocket and gave it a short glance, running her thumb over the front as it glinted in the dim torchlights of the catacombs. "Bien... let us prepare then. We still need to find a way out of the city."