#maquisards

[sergephilippelecourt]

Cérémonie d'hommage à l'école Jean Moulin

© Serge Philippe Lecourt Le 28 juin 2023 s’est déroulée une cérémonie en hommage à Jean Moulin, grande figure de la Résistance. 250 personnes environ étaient réunies dans la cour de l’école Jean Moulin à Vire Normandie. © Serge Philippe Lecourt A l’occasion du 80e anniversaire de son arrestation par la Gestapo et de sa disparition le 8 juillet 1943, les élèves avaient préparé une exposition…

[ecologieeteconomie]

Le 18 juin 1940, un général Français, encore inconnu du grand public, prend le micro dans une radio de Londres pour appeler les Français, tous les Français à entrer en Résistance. Alors, pourquoi ne pas avoir choisi cette date pour célébrer la Résistance ?

Tout simplement parce que la Résistance n’est réellement née et n’a vraiment été structurée qu’avec la création du CNR. Le Conseil National de la Résistance a été créé par la France Libre, le 27 mai 1943. Son but était d’apporter de la cohésion à l’ensemble des mouvements de Résistance en France afin d’agir avec une plus grande efficacité.

Les maquisards étaient l’ensemble des personnes qui, refusant l’occupation allemande, prirent les armes, au sens propre et au figuré. Si les Résistants Français sont surnommés les maquisards c’est parce que certains d’entre eux se cachaient effectivement dans le Maquis. Cette formation végétale qui est caractéristique du pourtour méditerranéen est devenu par extension le surnom de la résistance. Les principaux moyens d’action des résistants sont la diffusion d’information par la voie des journaux et des tracts. Écouter Radio-Londres , cacher des Juifs ou aider des gens à passer en zone libre ou en Suisse et en Espagne sont des actes de résistance. On héberge des aviateurs anglais, réalise des actes de sabotage ou des actions armées. D’autres résistants cachent des armes, défilent le 14 juillet ou le 11 novembre, dessinent des croix de Lorraine sur le mur pour marquer leur soutien au général de Gaulle ou font passer des messages et faire des faux papiers. Tous ces actes de résistance sont extrêmement risqués et leurs auteurs risquent leur vie.

Les moyens de lutte sont assez rudimentaires au départ puisque chacun prend le maquis avec ce qu’il possède. Mais, les choses s’organisent progressivement et les Anglais parachutent, de temps en temps, des armes, des munitions, des explosifs et des provisions en tout genre. Avec peu de moyens, les résistants puis les FFI (Forces Françaises de l’Intérieur) font de vrais coups d’éclat et parviennent à gêner les Allemands. La désorganisation des voix de communications et de déplacements est un « caillou dans la chaussure » des forces d’occupation.

La BBC transmet des centaines de messages codés dans les jours précédents le débarquement. Nombreux sont les gens qui connaissent aujourd’hui les messages codés : « Les carottes sont cuites » ou « les sanglots longs des violons blessent mon coeur d’une langueur monotone » mais qui peut dire qu’il sait que ça voulait dire que le débarquement en Normandie était imminent. C’est pourtant bien le cas puisque le lendemain de la diffusion de ces messages, les barges accostaient sur le sol Normand. Tout le monde connaît la suite.

Les valeurs de démocratie, de lutte pour la patrie et l’humanisme sont au coeur de l’engagement des maquisards dans le mouvement de la résistance. Souvenons-nous de l’engagement des gens dans la lutte contre la xénophobie, le nazisme et le fascisme.

[cinnamoncee]

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Francisco "Cisco" León Estrada

Codename: "Picasso"

The Guerrilla Spanish Maquis

[Click for better quality bc Tumblr hates me]

[gillesvalery]

Meung-sur-Loire, Loiret (camp de soldats américains et de maquisards) (1)

[hcdahlem]

Le Nom sur le mur

Alors que l'on commémore les 80 ans du débarquement et des combats de la libération, Hervé Le Tellier a choisi de retracer le destin d'un résistant, choisi presque au hasard, André Chaix. L'occasion de revenir sur l'occupation, l'engagement, la résistance

En deux mots Après l’achat d’une maison en Drôme provençale, Hervé Le Tellier découvre une inscription sur le crépi: André Chaix. Intrigué, il retrouve ce même nom sur le monument aux morts du village. Il décide alors d’enquêter, puis de raconter la vie de ce résistant mort à vingt ans. Ma note ★★★ (bien aimé) Ma chronique Vie et mort d’un résistant Alors que l’on commémore les 80 ans du…

[uefb]

Chapter One of Aimez-vous les uns les autres (Love One Another) posted today, sequel to Far Away from Temple After Sunset

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and the first night of Hanukkah when Newt and Tina are injured in an action against Grindelwald, whereafter they are evacuated with Theseus & co. by the Magical Resistance to a small church in rural France. Dealing with curse-exhaustion, landmine injuries, and travel through Nazi- and Grindelwald-occupied regions isn’t how either of them expected to spend the holidays, but—-in the big scheme of things—-there were, arguably, worse ways to finish 1940… In the end, the experience brings them closer together and—-back in England—-holidays with their families give them paradoxical hope for shared peace in the years to come. (Written for @afrenchaugurey!)

Excerpt (opening scene):

Newt had woken up in an extraordinary number of incredibly strange places in his life, but—for him—coming to on top of a hay bale in the back of a Muggle lorry was really maybe the strangest.

In fact, if he weren’t so groggy, he certainly would have done more than a double-take to find his injured leg elevated on the thighs of what appeared to be an actual Christian pastor, sitting on the haystack directly beside him. Newt moved his arm to scratch at his nose then, only to fuzzily realise he’d been warmly tucked into what was definitely said pastor’s clerical robes, so he ultimately only succeeded in hitting himself in the face with its massive sleeves...

The pastor had looked up at him by then to offer a smile, but Newt’s mind still wasn’t up to its normal speed—though his heart felt like it was pounding doubletime—so he broke the gaze as fast as he could, casting about for his brother, who must have heard the shift of his head because—

“Merlin’s beard!” — A voice from across and behind him in the truck, and then Theseus had knelt on the dusty boards beside him, fingers instantly feeling at his wrist and neck for pulse and pressure, before pulling back to balance on his haunches, brows furrowed. “You are drugged to the gills, little brother... How in Gamp’s good name are you awake?” [1]

As the truck bounced over a particularly deep pothole, Newt couldn’t help throwing the robe’s sleeve over his eyes to hide his discomfort. Beside him, he could hear Theseus saved from falling on his rump thanks to the soft thump of one of the maquisards’ boots at his back.

“Humans don’t have gills,” he finally murmured through gritted teeth. “And to answer your question, I’ve developed a rather unfortunate resistance to a number of common substances, that’s why I’m awake…” A beat and a frown. “Where’s Tina?”

“You’re on her, Newt.”

He uncovered his face, tilting his head back to see what he was pillowed on, only to be met with the gentle dip at the top of his wife’s thighs; the scratch of her warm, wool coat; the subtle scent of her perfume that always reminded him of camping for pleasure (not work) in Puzzlewood Forest… [2]

He twisted back further for a better look (and he caught a glimpse of her, too—head low and pillowed on Auror Voorhees’ shoulder, deeply asleep), but Theseus put a hand on his chest to urge him back down before he could better assess her.

“Stop moving. Macmillan’s stability spells on your leg are already being tested by these roads...”

Newt relaxed reluctantly into the dry hay, and Theseus thoughtfully transfigured a handkerchief into a towel to tuck beneath his neck when he noticed him grimace at the texture.

“Look,” he reassured, “she’s fine — just utterly exhausted. She’ll be good as new with a few cautionary countercurses and a couple days’ rest. And we hope to be able to say the same for you soon.”

“So - where are we going then?” Newt countered with quiet acceptance, glancing from the pastor to Theseus and back again. “And - and what is he doing here?”

“Don’t worry,” Theseus reassured glibly. “He’s a squib.”

[girlactionfigure]

Resistance Fighter – Nancy Wake

She killed a Nazi with her bare hands.

Nancy Wake was a gutsy journalist from Australia who became a leader of the Allied resistance and killed a Nazi with her bare hands.

Born in New Zealand in 1912, Nancy was raised in Sydney. She ran away from home at age 16 and went to London, where she became a self-taught journalist.

As a young woman, Nancy described herself as someone who loved nothing more than a “good drink and handsome men, especially French men.” In 1930 she married Henri Edmond Fiocca, a wealthy French industrialist.

During the 1930’s Nancy worked for Hearst newspapers as a European correspondent. Stationed in Vienna, Nancy witnessed the rise of Nazism. She was shocked to see roving gangs of Nazis beating up Jews, and never forgot the sight of Jews chained to massive wheels and rolled through the streets. She later said, “I resolved there and then that if I ever had the chance I would do anything to make things more difficult for their rotten party.”

Nancy became a courier for the French resistance. Speaking perfect French, she worked with the “maquis” – guerrilla bands of resistance fighters. After Germany invaded France, she helped Allied POW’s and other personnel escape the country.

The Gestapo called Nancy the “White Mouse.” They tapped her phone and intercepted her mail. Nancy’s life was in constant danger.

Nancy described her method of avoiding detection by the Germans: “A little powder and a little drink on the way, and I’d pass their German posts and wink and say, ‘Do you want to search me?’ God, what a flirtatious little bastard I was.”

Nancy led repeated attacks on Gestapo headquarters. By 1943, she was the most wanted resistance fighter, with a 5 million franc price on her head.

After Nancy’s maquis network was betrayed, she fled France. Her husband stayed behind, and he was captured, tortured and killed by the Gestapo. Nancy, on her way across the Pyrenees to Spain, was unaware of her husband’s death until after the war.

In 1944, Nancy parachuted into France. Her assignment involved collecting and distributing arms and equipment that were sent in by parachute. Nancy was a highly successful recruiter, and is credited with bringing 7500 fighters into the resistance.

From April 1944 until the liberation of France in August 1944, Nancy’s band of maquisards fought 22,000 German soldiers, causing 1400 casualties while sustaining only 100 of their own.

At one point, Nancy killed an SS guard with her bare hands to stop him from raising the alarm during a raid. She later described how she did it, “They’d taught this judo-chop stuff with the flat of the hand at SOE [special operations training] and I practiced away at it. But this was the only time I used it – whack – and it killed him all right. I was really surprised.”

Another time, Nancy’s wireless operator was shut down in a German raid, and she rode her bicycle over 300 miles through German checkpoints to deliver the secret codes.

After the war, Nancy was awarded the United States Medal of Freedom, the Medaille de la Resistance, and the Croix de Guerre, among many other honors.

Nancy continued to work as an intelligence agent. She married a Royal Air Force officer in 1957 and for the next several decades they divided their time between London and Australia. Nancy’s autobiography, The White Mouse, was published in 1985 and became a bestseller.

Nancy’s husband died in 2001, and she returned to London permanently. She lived at the Stafford Hotel near Picadilly, her expenses largely paid for by the hotel’s owners, who were honored to host a renowned heroine. She could be found every morning at the hotel bar, drinking her first gin and tonic of the day.

Nancy died in 2011 at age 98. Her remarkable story has been the subject of multiple biographies and television mini-series.

For fighting the good fight against the Nazi war machine, we honor Nancy Wake as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[kvetchlandia]

Julia Pirotte     Maquisards (Rural Anti-fascist Resistance Fighters) Near Venelles, Southeast France     1944

[francaistoutsimplement]

Un rendez-vous immuable à Etobon en Haute-Saône. Chaque 27 septembre, le village se fige autour du drame de 1944 : 39 villageois fusillés par les soldats allemands en déroute qui se vengent des succès de la résistance. Hommage devant une centaine de personnes.

On en parle comme du "massacre oublié de la fin de la Seconde Guerre mondiale". Bien moins connu qu'Oradour-sur-Glane ou Tulle, le massacre d'Etobon, en 1944, fit 39 victimes, 39 hommes du village fusillés par les soldats de Wehrmacht, en représailles à quelques actions des maquisards dans ces forêts de Haute-Saône.

Ce 27 septembre 1944, les soldats allemands prétextent un chantier de terrassement dans le village voisin de Chenebier. Les hommes d'Etobon sont réquisitionnés. Ils se plient à cette réquisition, sans inquiétude. Mais contre le mur du temple de Chenebier, 39 d'entre eux sont fusillés froidement.

[nesiacha]

Fernand and Helene Iveton a couple in the Algerian revolution the beginning of the End (part III)

In the previous post, we discovered the impact of Henri Maillot's death on Fernand Iveton. Together with a group including Félix Colozzi, Mohamed Hachelaf, Abdelkader and Jacqueline Guerroudj, Georges Accampora, and Mohamed Bennaceur, also known as Tewfik, Yahia Briki, they formed the Commando of Greater Algiers. They were supported by chemists like Daniel Timsit and Taleb Abderrahmane, a maquisard who came down from the maquis to assist the FLN in Algiers. Their operations included sabotaging wagons at the port and setting fire to international cork factories. One day, Fernand Iveton was assigned the mission to eliminate Gerard Etienne, a member of the colonialist organization Main Rouge, an ancestor of the notorious OAS. Fernand agreed, but the operation failed, and Mohamed Hachelaf took over the task.

To better understand the following events, it is important to contextualize Algiers in 1956. Executions of FLN militants by guillotine were in full swing, starting with the Algerian revolutionaries Ahmed Zabana and Abdelkader Ferradj, with many others following. These were mock trials under a military tribunal, where even the condemned were denied execution by firing squad—a practice viewed as an insult, which even the staunchly pro-colonial executioner of Algiers admitted should logically have been a firing squad given the military tribunal setting. However, many FLN militants, as well as innocent Algerians unrelated to the FLN, were executed by guillotine. This colonial "justice" was a farce, the extent of which would soon become apparent.

The bombing on Rue de Thèbes in August 1956 was a turning point. Two ORAF members, with police complicity, planted a bomb just before the Algerians' curfew to maximize casualties. The bomb exploded at 11:50 PM, killing over 80 people and seriously injuring 14. Many families in the Casbah were left homeless and without assistance. Everyone knew the culprits, but the incident was met with general indifference. Only a few lines were written about the tragedy, and the investigation falsely blamed Algerians for the attack. However, the act was claimed by a leaflet signed by the "Committee of Forty," which declared that for every European killed, a block of the Casbah would explode. Among the perpetrators was sub-prefect Achiary, known for his role in the May 8, 1945 massacre of Algerians.

The Algerians in Algiers were outraged and sought revenge. The FLN calmed them, promising similar retaliatory actions. This latest attack on Algerian civilians erased the last scruples most Algerian nationalists had about bombing locations frequented by European civilians. Violence escalated to a new level, with the FLN planting multiple bombs, including in cafes. This marked the beginning of what is known as the Battle of Algiers, although some historians like Gilbert Meynier prefer the term "Repression of Algiers" for this episode. The explanations for this part of history are vast and would require multiple posts.

Most PCA members integrated into the FLN disagreed with this approach. They supported targeting ultra-colonialists who already killed and generals involved in crimes but opposed killing innocent European civilians. Fernand Iveton naturally shared this view. He confided this in his wife Hélène, without giving her operation details for her safety and that of the network. He condemned the indiscriminate violence against European civilians, including children,impoverished civils , and believed it would lead to a dead end.

Nevertheless, Fernand was committed to the revolution. He decided to sabotage the gas plant where he worked using a bomb, ensuring no one would be injured. Taleb Abderrahmane made two bombs, Jacqueline Guerroudj transported them, and gave one to Fernand, who set it to go off late in the evening to avoid casualties. After this action, he planned to join the maquis ( The rule of the FLN was that to become a maquisard, one had to be wanted). However, the plant foreman, Oriol, suspicious of Fernand due to his CGT delegate activities, saw him enter a room with a beach bag and leave empty-handed. He alerted the police, who found the bomb. Fernand was arrested, marking the beginning of a nightmare for him and his loved ones.

Fernand was insulted by the police. Paul Teitgen, secretary-general of the Algiers prefecture, had forbidden the use of torture on Fernand Iveton, but his orders were ignored. A police commissioner assured his officers they would be covered for whatever they did. Fernand was brutally tortured, both physically and psychologically. He held on for his wife, Henri, his comrades, and others, needing to last at least 24 (or 48) hours to protect the network and evacuate everyone he knew. He was also threatened with harm to his wife.

The police demanded the location of the second bomb and his accomplices. When Fernand felt he might break, he cleverly claimed a blonde woman had given him the bombs (Jacqueline Guerroudj was brunette), misleading the police into suspecting Raymonde Peschard, a well-known PCA militant. They mistakenly believed she was behind the Milk Bar bombing (actually carried out by Zohra Drif). Raymonde Peschard, whose alias was Taous, evaded arrest and joined the ALN before being killed by the French army in the maquis on November 26, 1957.

When Fernand felt he could no longer hold out, he named Félix Colozzi and Mohamed Hachelaf, believing they had escaped. Mohamed Hachelaf's wife was arrested, but Félix Colozzi was not evacuated in time due to suspicious movements near his home. Both Fernand and Félix were tortured horribly. Helene, following Fernand's instructions, destroyed his hidden papers when the police arrived at their home. She delayed them by pretending to sleep and arguing through the window, buying time.I think her experience of hiding resistance fighters during the occupation of France by Nazi Germany must have helped her to deal with these situation . Ultimately, she let them in after ensuring any evidence was destroyed. The police arrested her as well.

Helene faced police attempts to turn her against Fernand. They falsely claimed he was unfaithful, but she retorted that it was fashionable to be cheated on and the police commissioner’s wife was probably cheating on him too. When asked about her knowledge of her husband's militancy, she lied, claiming ignorance and stating her love for him. The commissioner grew angry, but Helene remained calm. She was put in a cell next to prostitutes who cheered her defiance against a policeman insulting her husband. She earned the nickname "the tigress."

Fernand, meanwhile, was taunted by soldiers who showed him newspapers branding him a bloodthirsty criminal. Fernand mislead the police about an FLN hideout, manage to escape but was recaptured and beaten again.

The police released Hélène. She made sure not to acknowledge the police officers and took a taxi. The driver, named Farouk, noticed that she was sad. She confided in him, explaining that she could not bear the thought of her husband being tortured. This likely brought back painful memories of her uncle being tortured and killed by a Nazi officer during World War II in Poland, as mentioned in the first part. When Farouk learned that she was Fernand Iveton's wife, he was completely surprised. While Iveton was seen as a brigand and a traitor by the colonial authorities, he was becoming a hero to the Algerian population. When Hélène tried to pay for the taxi, the driver refused, saying that the wives of fighters do not pay.

The French authorities, including Robert Lacoste, celebrated thos. Soustelle falsely claimed Fernand wanted to blow up the entire city. Lacoste demanded Fernand's execution, a move meant to discredit the Algerian movement and paint it as communist-led to reduce American support.

It is important to understand that during the UN meetings, France was frequently called out for its conduct in Algeria and faced increasing international criticism from many countries such as Tunisia, Egypt, and others. The USSR remained neutral on this issue until it aligned with Nasser, but the FLN was able to count on significant diplomatic support from China as well as from the United States. In New York, M’Hamed Yazid and Hocine Ait Ahmed, later replaced by Abdelkader Chanderli, maintained contacts through the UN with the Americans.

An anecdote: in 1957, Senator Kennedy, although he was speaking in a personal capacity and not on behalf of the American government, stated that it was necessary to "accelerate the movement towards independence in Algerian policy." But now, an communist named Fernand Iveton was caught in the act of sabotage in the name of Algeria’s independence. This was an opportunity to try to discredit the Algerian movement and suggest that this revolution was primarily the work of communists, perhaps even under Moscow's influence, and that consequently, the Americans should stop supporting them. This was a desperate and foolish strategy by the French government, but Iveton paid the high price fot these. French newspapers like Le Monde gleefully branded him a brigand. Not to mention the colonial newspapers.

The French Communist Party abandoned him. Helene sought Gaston Amblard’s help, but the PCF forbade it, calling Fernand’s actions a "provocation" ( words of Leon Feix). The lawyer Gisèle Halimi explained in her book Le lait de l'oranger that she was outraged and ready to defend him, and she sent him a note. He sincerely thanked her but said that as a communist, he could only accept help from a communist lawyer. . Ultimately, Albert Smajda, a third-year communist trainee lawyer, defended Fernand, assisted by Charles Lainné of Secours Catholique a very good lawyer who defend the equality between algerians and Pieds Noirs . Both knew Fernand should not be executed in theory, but the charged atmosphere made anything possible. Fernand fought for clemency, refusing to be demoralized and the two braves and engaged lawyers will fight for save Fernand Iveton life.

Helene prepared clean clothes for Fernand for his trial, insisting they be delivered in person. Initially refused, the prison director, moved by her determination, assured that Fernand would receive them. On her way out, she noticed a policeman following her and told him to get out. Fernand and Helene, committed to each other and their cause, prepared for a new battle for save his life.

[juliendorcellove-blog]

Une jeune boulangère, Noémie, s’ennuie dans la vie. Elle trouve son existence terne entre son mari milicien et son travail routinier. Jusqu’au jour où elle rencontre le commandant Luc, un maquisard séduisant. Elle va alors hésiter entre son mari très quelconque et son amant aventurier. Arrivera-t-elle enfin à se décider entre les deux ? Comme dit le proverbe : le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ignore. Découvrez donc ce drame passionnel dans la France occupée de 1944 ...

[notrebellefrance]

Valchevrière - Isère

Le calvaire de Valchevrière

Il y a 68 ans, malgré le sacrifice du Lieutenant Chabal et de ses chasseurs, le hameau de Valchevrière en Vercors était incendié par l'armée allemande en déroute.

Situé juste au dessus des gorges de la Bourne, le hameau de Valchevrière (carte)constituait, à l'été 1944, l'un des verrous du Vercors résistant. Occupé lors de l'estive par les éleveurs, il était devenu un camp de maquisards.

Le Lieutenant Abel Chabal, fils d'agriculteurs des Hautes-Alpes, ancien zouave du Maroc, entré en résistance à la tête d'un groupe de chasseurs du 6ème BCA dissous par Vichy, organisa la défense de cet accès au plateau. Il combattait alors sous l'autorité du Capitaine Goderville, de son vrai nom Jean Prévost, écrivain-journaliste-résistant. Submergé par les forces allemandes, Abel Chabal mourut les armes à la main sur le belvédère. Il aurait eu 34 ans le 24 juillet.

Les soldats allemands incendièrent le hameau. Seule la chapelle échappa aux flammes. Fut-elle épargnée par les occupants ?!

Ici un film document, d'origine inconnue, sans doute reconstitué peu après le drame, vous fait revivre les évènements.

Aujourd'hui un chemin de croix vous mène de Villard de Lans à Valchevrière.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 26 Part 2

(Ch. 26.1) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: With the Gestapo on high alert and a bounty on her head, the stakes are only getting higher for Alix as the night of her mission fast approaches. But luckily, she and Captain Nixon have some help.

WARNINGS: War, Death, Espionage, Survivor's Guilt, Nix's functional alcoholism, the usual

A/N: All disguises mentioned are actual techniques used by the OSS, SOE, & CIA! Also, Cisco is based heavily on SOE spy Juan Pujol Garcia (aka Agent Garbo) & several other Spanish Maquisards who fought the rise of fascism in Europe for years before WW2 began!💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @bellewintersroe @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @suugrbunz @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu

Contemporary: December 2nd, 1944. Resistance Safehouse, Signy-l’Abbaye, France.

Alix awoke to the sound of hushed voices in the hall.  

Cracking a reluctant eye open, she reached for her knife just as the mantle clock chimed.  

4 o'clock in the morning. 

Splendid.

She must've dozed off waiting for their asset's arrival.

Silently easing herself off the couch, she crept towards the adjacent wall, her path just barely illuminated by a cool sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains. 

The voices were getting closer…

Alix relaxed instantly as she recognized her handler’s voice, dry bemusement drizzled over his every word like syrup.

"That’s all you brought, Picasso? One bag?"  

There was a hearty chuckle from the darkness and then a second voice replied simply:

"They tell me pack light, I pack light." 

The speaker's voice had a rather airy, almost nasal quality she hadn't heard before and a pleasant, rolling accent she couldn’t quite place. 

Sheathing her knife, the spy subtly retreated to the sofa, managing to be seated just as the two men entered the room. 

“Sorry we’re late, Runt,” Nixon remarked as he threw himself into his usual chair and propped his boot-clad feet up on the coffee table.

His gaze flickered over to their visitor and playfully raised his voice just loud enough for the other man to hear. 

“Seems like the Spanish can’t keep to a schedule!”

"Next time, you hike the Pyrenees then, chaval," the diminutive newcomer retorted, a toothy grin appearing from underneath his scraggly beard as he removed a faded leather jacket and placed it delicately on the coat rack.

"And I will be the one to drink and complain. Besides, 'Más vale tarde que nunca', as my abuela always said." 

As the asset dragged a chair from the kitchen and into the living room, Alix watched him blearily and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

He was supposed to be here at midnight, she thought with a pang of irritation. What had taken him so long?

The visitor-- Picasso, Nixon had called him-- was in his early thirties, disheveled in ill-fitting black fatigues covered in dirt and twigs, a dark cotton shirt nearly swallowing his frame whole. 

Even in his beaten-in combat boots, he couldn'tve stood more than an inch taller than her and he was so slight that his clothing seemed to hang off him like the rucksack he had slung off one shoulder.

Noticing Alix's scrutinizing gaze, the visitor's smile only widened and the American spy observed a barely-visible gap between his two front teeth that reminded her vaguely of her baby cousin.

"You must be La Mariposa Negra," he noted brightly as he sat down, placing the canvas rucksack onto his lap with care.

"There is a poem in my country called that! Perhaps you have heard of it?”

“Unfortunately not,” Alix responded stiffly, still trying to figure out who on Earth this man was working for, why he was late, and why he was now sitting so casually in the living room of the safehouse as though he were part of the furniture.

“Ah, qué pena,” the Spaniard commented easily, still seeming far too cheery for the hour.

“But probably it will lose something in translation anyway." 

From his chair, Nixon yawned lazily before gesturing to his protégé. 

“Agent Martinelli, meet Cisco León Estrada of the Cantabria Maquis. He’ll be in town for a few days on special assignment.” 

The Spaniard extended a gloved hand and they exchanged brief pleasantries before he began unpacking the canvas rucksack on his lap.

“We hear much about you on the radio, Mariposa,” he gushed as he placed two detail brushes onto the coffee table.

"How you make the Germans afraid. It will be an honor to work on you.” 

Alix was instantly alert.

“On me?!”

"Correct,” Nixon commented from his place to her right, popping a caramel block into his mouth before going on:

"Cisco is a master of disguise. The SOE calls him Picasso for a reason." 

“You are too kind, my friend," the Spaniard replied with a modest wave of his hand. “I have had much practice.” 

"Donovan called him in for you personally, Runt,” her case officer garbled through a mouthful of candy.

“He’s going to get you– Well, ‘Tanya’ – ready for her big debut.” 

A small vial of dark liquid was placed onto the wooden table top with a plink. 

"Is that iodine?" Alix asked as she eyed the antiseptic nervously. “Somebody performing surgery?”

The two men exchanged glances.

"Yes" Nixon deadpanned at the same time Cisco answered with a light "No". 

"Well as long as we're all in agreement," Alix snorted as the shorter man rose from his seat, scrutinizing Alix with a pensive gaze.

The former model recognized that look and remained still, patiently allowing the artist to work. 

Mumbling to himself in Spanish, the Maquisard plucked absentmindedly at the bush of his beard for several minutes as he paced and studied her features, clearly trying to decide where to begin. 

After a moment, he snapped his fingers.

"The eyes,” the Spaniard stated with a decisive nod. “Then teeth. Then hair.”

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Breaking an ankle during jump training hadn't been as miserable. 

It had been one flash of pain when she'd collided with the ground and that was it. Mercifully, the bone had gone numb. Alix wished she could go numb now. 

But instead, it felt like her scalp was being flooded with lava, each strand of hair being personally seared to the root by the peroxide Cisco was using.

She'd been sitting on the edge of the tub in a robe they'd pilfered for what felt like half an eternity, letting her stinging eyes wander the cramped bathroom. 

The Spanish asset, Cisco, was standing by the counter, a needle-thin brush in hand as he painstakingly dabbed each pearly tooth of the mold with a thin film of iodine just dark enough to discolor them. 

Every good agent knew the devil truly was in the details.

Eating with the wrong fork, a discontinued brand of cigarettes, a discarded receipt with a traceable bank number, even wearing a certain color too frequently could all spell disaster for an agent undercover behind enemy lines. 

They couldn't afford to overlook anything; Alix's life would depend on it. 

But even with Captain Nixon firing questions at her about her cover from his spot on the tile, all she could think about was the torturous burning sensation of her head and the dark blue colored contact lenses making her vision blur.

"Madonna mía, can I rinse it out yet?" she burst out finally, her fingers clenching onto the side of the tub as she tried to distract herself from the sizzling sting of the liquid seemingly seeping into every open pore. 

"Please? Jesus Ch-"  

"Only if you are wanting to lose half your hair," Cisco responded, his sharp eyes never wavering from his work.

"And I do not think you are wanting that." 

"Where did you go to school, Tatiana?" Nixon quizzed her as he reached the third page of her cover's dossier. 

Alix ignored him. 

"How much longer?" she inquired and the Maquisard took a quick glance at his watch. 

"Thirty more minutes, tía." 

"Am I talking to myself?” Nixon complained loudly. “I said, 'Where did you go to school, Tati-'" 

"It's Tanya," Alix snapped finally, dropping her voice to a lower, throatier pitch with a thick Russian accent. 

"Only my mother calls me Tatiana. And I was trained at the Bolshoi Ballet Academy." 

Her case officer didn't miss a beat. 

"And your mother? Where did she train?" 

A trick question.

"This is joke, yes?" the spy asserted, crossing her arms in front of her chest with an imperious toss of her head as she imagined a spoiled collaborationist socialite like Tanya would. 

"We only train with the best. And the best have always been at the Bolshoi." 

Captain Nixon gave a silent, grudging nod and Alix could see him fighting a smile at her performance. 

"And your dad?" he prompted. "What's your old man do?" 

"He is dignitary," she responded, the smoky quality of her lowered voice adding an extra layer of flippancy. 

"That is all you need to know." 

Nixon nodded his approval and drew a check mark in the margins of her dossier just as Cisco put the finishing touches on her false teeth and sat them on the counter to dry. 

"I must get the, ah como se dice…El tinte– " He gestured frantically as he tried to summon the English term.

"Hair dye," Nixon supplied and the Spanish Maquisard nodded enthusiastically, scooting the large box toward himself.

"Sí, yes–" he said between grunts as he tried to pry the tightly-sealed packaging apart. "The dye! Hostia–"

With a huff of irritation, Cisco flicked a knife out from his boot and began to carve the box open to get to its contents. 

“You would think–” he muttered in between laborious saws. “– they are hiding gold in here, when really, this– ” 

With a final, swift cut, the Spanish operative was able to dip his hand inside and pull out a small package of Auburn Allure buried within layers of cardboard.

“– is all.” 

“Dye’s hard to find these days,” Nixon commented as he shifted from the sink to the wall so Alix could finally rinse the peroxide from her hair.

“With shortages and all. Kathy’s always on about it.”

The cool rush of water on her scalp sent a shiver of relief washing through but when she flipped her hair back and looked into the mirror, Alix let out a yelp of horror at the ashen creature staring back at her. 

“What did you DO?!” she shrieked as she clutched at the limp strands of her now ghastly-yellow hair.

Skip and Don were going to have a field-day with this.

“Hostia, I told you not to look yet,” Cisco scolded, swatting her hand away from her face.

“You will only scare yourself. Captain Nixon, the scissors porfa.”

Alix opened her mouth to respond but suddenly thought better of speaking sharply to a highly-trained operative with scissors now in hand.

“Not. One. Word." She growled in Nix’s direction and even though it obviously pained him, her case officer made a sarcastic zipper motion across his lips and turned back to her dossier while Alix continued to violently pantomime slitting his throat. 

“Ignore him,” Estrada uttered sympathetically, swiping a portion of her bleached hair to the side and clipping it.

“We are not even halfway finished. You must trust me, vale?”

Alix sighed hopelessly and rubbed her stinging eyes again as the operative took the scissors to her beloved hair.

“Vale.” 

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Within a couple hours, Alix had gotten used to the contact lenses and even the uncomfortable dental façade that shifted her jawline but she was still getting used to the overall person staring back at her in the mirror. 

The haircut and bangs suited her face surprisingly well but being a bleach blonde did not. Luckily, the Spanish operative had a plan to fix that too.

“Damn Cisco,” Alix remarked in a tone tinged with envy as she watched him combine ingredients like an expert chemist.

"You can do hair, you can paint, you can take a dental impression, you can kill a man in probably at least 5 different ways, is there anything you can’t do?” 

The Spaniard contemplated the question as he vigorously shook the bottle of dye.

“Maths,” he declared after a moment’s pause. 

“When I was in university, I always struggle in Maths. Painting a scene from memory, no problem, but you ask me to solve a complicated equation? This I cannot do.”

“What did you end up studying while you were in college?” Alix inquired curiously as he began to apply the deep burgundy dye into her hair with patient strokes.

“Art,” was the wistful reply, his hand faltering slightly with his fading smile. 

“But I leave university when the Guerra Civil starts… My little brother and I, we fight in the war. I make it out…Diego does not.”

“I’m so sorry,” Alix whispered, instinctively reaching to touch her rosary. 

She knew the ache of that loss all too well. 

“How did you end up in the intelligence game?” Captain Nixon asked, finding his voice.

In the mirror, she could see a shadow cross Cisco’s face.

“I go home to Cantabria. I see what Franco has done to mi pueblo…mi gente… mis amigos… Everywhere you look, there is death."

He swallowed hard.

“That is why I no longer go by my first name... Francisco.” He spat the word like a bitter curse. 

“After what I have seen…All of the things he has done to good people, all of the things he is doing to mi amada patria…I cannot stand –” 

His voice broke and he cut himself off, lapsing into a tense silence.

After a moment, he gritted his teeth and soldiered on.

“So I put down my brushes… I pick up my guns and I go to the mountains, I join the Maquis. Then the SOE, they reach out to me. They hear of my background. They want to train me in disguise and–” 

He finished brushing in the dye and made a half-hearted gesture with the brush as if to say Voila, here I am.

“Bueno, what about you? Why intelligence? I am curious.”

Alix took a deep breath and shifted anxiously in her seat.

What reason could she give? There was only one reason she had stuck with the OSS for so long, only one reason she hadn’t quit the spy game long before.

This operative had just poured out his whole life story to her and she couldn’t even say a name? 

“M-My brother,” she forced out, surprised at how brittle her voice sounded as the words tumbled out. 

“He, um…He was a Navy lieutenant. He shouldn’tve been there that morning, on the ship, but –” 

She took a shuddering breath, the words feeling like sawdust in her mouth as she slowly continued.

“– But he'd stayed the night to mediate some stupid squabble. So he was with his men that morning on the Arizona when…when–”

She shook her head, unwilling to give voice to the awful words, but she didn't have to.

"Entiendo por lo que estás pasando," Cisco intoned sympathetically as he began painting dye onto another section of her hair. "We have both lost much and it drives us here, to make a difference."

"Definitely. I tried to join the Women's Army Corps first," she admitted. "But I don’t take orders well. So suffice it to say, my superiors and I didn’t exactly get along.” 

She looked over at Captain Nixon, expecting some sort of quip but he appeared to be studying the pristine white tile, so she went on:

"Luckily, Director Donovan was looking for the headstrong type and knew my father personally, so he asked if I would be interested. And--” 

She shrugged, trying and failing to keep her tone light.

 “Here I am.”

"Bueno," Cisco chuckled. “My wife, Yessenia, has a favorite saying: 'Pan con pan, comida de tontos'.”

Alix's brows knit in confusion.

“‘Bread with bread'…?”

“A ver, it loses something in translation,” the Spanish operative expressed with another breezy laugh. “Es como...all the same is boring, no? It is good to be different.” 

Captain Nixon was strangely quiet throughout the course of the conversation and Alix stole another furtive glance in his direction. 

The intelligence officer was taking a sip from his flask with a hollow stare straight past her, at the wall. 

He was the odd one out, she realized, and he knew it. 

The only one of them who hadn’t lost anything…or anyone. 

It suddenly dawned on Alix that she had never known why he had joined the Airborne to begin with or why he had agreed to become a case officer. She never knew why he was so strict with her but lackadaisical when it came to everyone else. 

To be frank with herself, Alix realized she had never thought to ask. Even if she had, she reasoned, would he have given her a real answer? Probably not.

But now that everyone else was opening up too, perhaps he just might.

"Hey Nix--" she started and it was almost like her case officer sensed that she was about to inquire seriously about a topic he was loath to discuss because he hurried to cut her off.

“Say, you two mind if I turn on the radio?”

“Madonna mia, you’ve got to be kidding,” Alix groaned, throwing her hands up in exasperation before adopting a gruff, mocking tone.

“What happened to ‘no radio for the month, Runt. It's not safe’?!” 

“Well first of all," Nixon noted dryly, already exiting the bathroom to retrieve the contraband. "That impression of me could use some work!"

Moments later, he reappeared, radio in hand, and plopped it onto the bathroom counter.

"And second of all," he finished with a self-satisfied smirk at the look of indignance on Alix's face. "Since we’re leaving tonight, HQ gave the okay." 

Before the young agent could respond, the saccharine voice of one of Germany's most notorious propagandists came wafting over the crackling airwaves.

“–the Andrews Sisters singing ‘Pistol Packin Mama’. GIs sure love girls and guns, don’t you? Is that why some of you are lending your aid to The Black Butterfly?" 

Axis Sally let out a girlish giggle so malicious that it made the spy’s blood run cold and she exchanged worried glances with Nixon, whose expression had darkened instantly.

How did Berlin know she was getting help from American soldiers?!

Where were they getting such detailed information?

Even Cisco blanched as the announcer’s words set in, the dye brush slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor, deep red splattering across the tile.

“You are smart men," Sally purred coquettishly, somehow sounding more threatening than if she had been yelling.

"Surely you realize you’re backing the wrong horse. After all, do you know how easy it is to kill a butterfly?”

There was a brief pause and then another chime of haunting laughter as the infamous announcer answered her own query:

“All you have to do is catch it.”

[jogallice]

1️⃣

Aujourd’hui, dimanche 01/09/24, une journée sans Journée qui va ravir celles et ceux qui ne les aiment pas, qu’elles soient locales, territoriales, nationales, européennes, internationales ou mondiales 😆 Excellente journée dominicale sans Journée 😉

2️⃣

Montée de la Tournette (1873 m de dénivellation du port de Talloires au pied du fauteuil de la Tournette) de 7h30 à 16h30 organisée par le Club des Sports de Talloires et 2e Solitaire d'été, régate voile (habitable et quillard sportif), organisée par la SRVA de 9h à 17h 👍

Ligue 2 : à l’issue de la 3e journée hier après-midi, le FC Annecy pointe toujours à la 10e place mais désormais avec 4 points suite à son match nul vendredi soir face à Caen. 6 clubs ont gagné (3), 6 clubs ont fait un match nul (1) et 6 clubs ont perdu (0) ➡️ 24 points répartis ⚽

3️⃣

Trois marchés le dimanche matin à Annecy : marché de la vieille ville (rue Sainte Claire), marché des Teppes (place des Rhododendrons) de 7h à 13h tous les deux et marché du quartier du Vallon (place Jean Moulin) de 8h à 12h 🧺

Troisième et dernière journée du Martin Fourcade Nordic Festival ℹ️ Ouverture du village exposant toute la journée, session yoga collective gratuite de 9h30 à 11h, courses biathlon enfant de 10h à 12h et biathlon Running de 13h30 à 16h 🎫 Accès libre 📆 Ce dimanche 01/09/24 de 8h à 18h 📍 Le Pâquier 🎿

Fête du Vieux Seynod : 40e édition d’une fête rurale traditionnelle exceptionnelle : démonstrations de savoir-faire, ateliers, marché alimentaire, restauration, mini-ferme avec animaux, animations, concerts, exposition, déambulations… 🎫 Accès libre 📆 Ce dimanche 01/09/24 de 9h à 18h 📍 Butte Saint-Martin 🌄

J’y suis passé hier alors je partage ce “plan” annécien pour celles et ceux qui ne connaissent pas encore ce lieu d’accueil et d’échange  ℹ️  Boissons sans alcool, livres, jeux 📆 Ce dimanche 01/09/24 de 10h à 12h30 📍 Café du curé (6 quai de l’Évêché) ☕

Dernier jour❗️Dans les pas des maquisards ℹ️ Découverte avec un médiateur des lieux emblématiques du maquis des Glières, son organisation et la vie quotidienne des résistants 🎫 3 € & 2 €, gratuit pour les - de 8 ans 📆 Ce dimanche 01/09/24 de 10h30 à 12h 📍 Plateau des Glières ⛰️

Dernier jour❗️Exposition : Archéo, une expo à creuser  ℹ️ Le visiteur est invité à s'équiper d'un gilet jaune ; le voici prêt pour l’aventure. Peu de théorie, beaucoup de pratique 🎫 5 € & 3 €, gratuit pour les moins de 12 ans 📆 Ce dimanche 01/09/24 de 14h à 16h et de 16h à 18h 📍 La Turbine sciences 🦺

Dernier jour❗️Exposition : Fouille farfouille pour les 3-6 ans ℹ️ Équipés comme des archéologues, les enfants vont travailler sur le chantier de fouille et mettre au jour les vestiges d’une époque 🎫 5 € & 3 €, gratuit pour les moins de 12 ans 📆 Ce dimanche 01/09/24 de 16h15 à 17h et de 17h15 à 18h 📍 La Turbine sciences ⛏️

4️⃣

Qualité de l’air à Annecy : les niveaux d’ozone devraient rester élevés avec des conditions météorologiques favorables à sa formation 🌡 Les indices ATMO devraient être dégradés à mauvais 💨

Dans la cité lacustre et ailleurs, au niveau de vos déplacements, privilégiez vélo, trottinette, marche à pied, etc. et au niveau de vos activités physiques, privilégiez les parcs, les zones piétonnes et les rues peu circulantes pour vos activités de plein air 🌬️

L’indice de risque pollinique à Annecy est moyen (niveau 2) ➡️ Ambroisies : niveau 2 ; graminées, plantain et urticacées : niveau 1 ; platane et saule : niveau 0 ➡️ Indice communal valable du 31/08/24 au vendredi 06/09/2024 inclus 🤧 Personnes allergiques : lavez-vous régulièrement le nez avec du sérum physiologique pour éliminer les pollens 😷

5️⃣

Deux dictons du jour, un acheté, un offert (pour la petite histoire, cette pratique est désormais illégale) : « À la saint Gilles, tout est si fragile. » 🤔 « La saint Gilles ramène la tarte aux prunes, les cerfs-volants et les grands vents. » 🪁

Trois autres dictons du jour pour la route : « Les vents de saint Gilles et suivant repassent en fortes bises bien souvent. » 🍃 « Pluie de la saint Gilles ruine les glands. » 🌧 « Quand il fait bon à la saint Gilles, on peut encore sarcler un journal de friche et le brûler. » 🧑‍🌾

Pile ou face : « S'il fait beau à la saint Gilles, cela durera jusqu'à la saint Michel. » 🌞 « S'il pleut à la saint Gilles, ça dure jusqu'à la saint Michel. » ☔ Pour celles et ceux qui ne le savent pas, la saint Michel, c’est le 29/09 😎

Changement de mois : « En septembre, sois prudent, achète bois, grains et vêtements. » 👌 « Quand la cigale chante en septembre, n'achète pas de blé pour le revendre. » 🤑 « Septembre se nomme, le mai de l'automne ou le mois de l'automne. » 🤩

Pour celles et ceux qui aiment les fruits : « Septembre nous produit, le plus délectable des fruits. » ; « En septembre, coupe tous les fruits qui pendent. » et « En septembre, quand l'osier fleurit, le fruit mûrit. » 😍

6️⃣

Je vous souhaite une très bonne journée annécienne et un très bel été à Annecy, dans les 33 autres communes du Grand Annecy, en Savoie ou ailleurs 🏖️

Bon septième et dernier jour de la semaine à tous et à toutes, c’est le premier jour du mois et demain c’est la “rentrée” pour tout le monde (non mais) 🌴

Bonne fête aux Gilles et demain aux Ingrid 😘

📷 JamesO PhotO à Annecy le 27/08/24 📸

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 6.9 (after 1940)

1944 – World War II: Ninety-nine civilians are hanged from lampposts and balconies by German troops in Tulle, France, in reprisal for maquisards attacks. 1944 – World War II: The Soviet Union invades East Karelia and the previously Finnish part of Karelia, occupied by Finland since 1941. 1948 – Foundation of the International Council on Archives under the auspices of the UNESCO. 1953 – The Flint–Worcester tornado outbreak sequence kills 94 people in Massachusetts. 1954 – Joseph N. Welch, special counsel for the United States Army, lashes out at Senator Joseph McCarthy during the Army–McCarthy hearings, giving McCarthy the famous rebuke, "You've done enough. Have you no sense of decency, sir, at long last? Have you left no sense of decency?" 1957 – First ascent of Broad Peak by Fritz Wintersteller, Marcus Schmuck, Kurt Diemberger, and Hermann Buhl. 1959 – The USS George Washington is launched. It is the first nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarine. 1965 – The civilian Prime Minister of South Vietnam, Phan Huy Quát, resigns after being unable to work with a junta led by Nguyễn Cao Kỳ. 1965 – Vietnam War: The Viet Cong commences combat with the Army of the Republic of Vietnam in the Battle of Đồng Xoài, one of the largest battles in the war. 1967 – Six-Day War: Israel captures the Golan Heights from Syria. 1968 – U.S. President Lyndon B. Johnson declares a national day of mourning following the assassination of Senator Robert F. Kennedy. 1972 – Severe rainfall causes a dam in the Black Hills of South Dakota to burst, creating a flood that kills 238 people and causes $160 million in damage. 1973 – In horse racing, Secretariat wins the U.S. Triple Crown. 1978 – The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints opens its priesthood to "all worthy men", ending a 148-year-old policy of excluding black men. 1979 – The Ghost Train fire at Luna Park Sydney, Australia, kills seven. 1995 – Ansett New Zealand Flight 703 crashes into the Tararua Range during approach to Palmerston North Airport on the North Island of New Zealand, killing four. 1999 – Kosovo War: The Federal Republic of Yugoslavia and NATO sign a peace treaty. 2008 – Two bombs explode at a train station near Algiers, Algeria, killing at least 13 people. 2009 – An explosion kills 17 people and injures at least 46 at a hotel in Peshawar, Pakistan. 2010 – At least 40 people are killed and more than 70 wounded in a suicide bombing at a wedding party in Arghandab, Kandahar.