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By Root 1327 0

on the train I kept reading the newspaper, and I tried to play ‘deaf and dumb.’ I had to make sure I was never startled by a noise. It was a useful discipline. People now are going to meditation classes to learn how to be mellow.” He laughed. “By noon I had learned all the French in the collaborationist news, but my companions in the compartment probably thought I was an exceptionally slow reader. No one really spoke. Under German eyes, everyone kept to himself. No one wanted to speak or even offer common courtesies to the enemy. I have to admit I was terrified. Any minute and their pistols could be at my head. Your mother had made my hair dark, and I hunched down to conceal my height. But one thing I hadn’t thought of. When I went to the lavatory, the floor inside was wet, and I made boot prints down the aisle when I walked back to my seat. After I turned to open the door of my compartment, I faced the other way and I saw my footprints—a trail of little USA insignias, written backwards! The letters ‘USA’ were in the rubber on the heels of my boots. I must have turned red as a cherry at the sight of that. I retraced my path, sliding my feet to blur the prints. The next time I went to the lavatory, I dried my boots off before leaving.”

He laughed, telling this, and she laughed with him.

“Your calling card,” she said.

“It’s funny now, but the whole trip was nerve-wracking. I almost had a heart attack when I saw that incriminating trail. I was with three other airmen, and two of them were in different cars. Robert was at the head of my car. He was reading a book and paying no attention to me. Our group got off at Montauban, and the girl guided us to a park.”

“I’m sure that was Hélène.”

“In the park we could scatter out and pass the time for a while. Then, I think to confuse the Germans, she took us on by bus to Toulouse. Robert didn’t go to the park, and I lost sight of him. But there he was on the quai at Toulouse. The train to Pau was due in just a few minutes. Robert went to the lavatory, and the girl was reading a book on a bench. The train was late. That was a miserable hour! We couldn’t talk, couldn’t buy anything to eat or a newspaper, for fear of betraying ourselves. We all sat on various benches, checking the departure board from time to time. I concentrated on not hearing a train approaching. I wondered just how deaf I was supposed to be. Would I hear the vibrations of the train when it was still far away? Was I totally deaf or partially deaf? Why didn’t I know sign language? And would that be the same in French? I was crazed with all these questions.”

“All the Allied aviateurs who fell into France were deaf and dumb,” she said, laughing. They laughed together. He had not imagined his tale would be so entertaining. She said, “The flu epidemic of 1917 left many people deaf and dumb, so it was plausible.”

“Still, the Germans must have been stupid not to notice,” he said. “The French would have noticed us, wouldn’t they?”

“Oh, they did. And no one denounced you! This was the passive résistance of the French! They say most people collaborated, but this was an example of how we resisted when there seemed to be nothing one could do. The Americans were obvious—and everyone knew! We kept quiet. Oh, excuse me, I’ve launched into my opinions. Continue, please!” She hugged his arm.

“I had eaten most of the food your mother gave me. I tried to eat my orange the way a French workman would. Anyway, an orange was messy enough to keep people at arm’s length. Two of the men in our group—I didn’t know them at all—were behaving rather strangely, talking to each other. Although I wasn’t seated near them, I was determined to have nothing to do with them. They were going to jeopardize the whole operation. One of them went to the kiosk and bought something to eat, and he started toward me signaling that he wanted to give me some of it. I stood up, turned, and walked away. The fool. I was afraid we were going to attract the attention of the German officer who was standing at the exit to the street, checking papers. In the lulls