Operation Torch: The War Comes to France

Bastille Day 2026

Chapter 79, THE DAWN

It was now almost two thirty on that Wednesday afternoon, 11 November.  On that day, it was Pierre’s turn to walk Gabrielle to and from St. Martin’s School.  Camille appreciated this break from her routine.  It permitted her time to perform her emotional journeys back in time.  She felt calm and relaxed as she stepped outside of her bedroom to kiss her father before he left the house.  Pierre slicked back his hair and smiled as he slipped on a heavy, blue-gray woolen cable cardigan.  It suddenly dawned on Camille that her father enjoyed passing by the fermette of Madame Charbonnet on the way to St. Martin’s School.

“À bientôt,” this father and daughter said quietly and affectionately to each other.

Camille smiled tenderly.  She watched her father leave the house, and then she returned to her bedroom, and reclined on the bed.  With a tremble, she closed her eyes and thought of Guillaume.  Early that morning, he’d appeared from out of the blue at the maison d’été.  His manner was distracted and nervous.  He said that he’d just come from Pascal’s Restaurant.  In a seemingly pointless point of conversation, Guillaume, for some reason, stated to Camille that he had gone there to warn Gustave to leave for Arles.  Gustave now shared a cottage with an elderly master farrier who was his steward.  This young Frenchman and escaped prisoner-of-war was known as François Aragon to this widowed man.

Completely unknown to Camille was the fact that during that week there had been a great deal of activity at Pascal’s Restaurant.  Camille had not worked any afternoons that week.  In fact, she had not been anywhere near the restaurant.  Pascal wanted this establishment to be private and guarded, so he’d opened the restaurant only in the evening for the usuals to come and drink and argue and listen to the BBC for reports of an invasion of French North Africa.

Since Monday, 9 November, the day after the launch of Operation Torch, Guillaume had been staying at the house of the notaire.  With Artur, he kept track of events as they were broadcast on the radio in the barroom at Pascal’s.  These men understood that this astounding and exciting news would be spreading all throughout Roussillon, if not Provence, but Artur advised Guillaume to not become part of the verbal predictions about the future.  This behavior would have been highly unlikely for this reserved French aristocrat, but Artur, as his commander, chose not to take anything for granted.

Ecstatic speculation and wild designs of scenarios were spun out loudly each night at the bar.  These two Free French agents listened to these fantastical predictions and smiled.  Artur knew, as did Guillaume, that these villagers were too delirious with joy, laughter, and wine to realize that this victory for the Allies in French North Africa did not mean that the Germans were being kicked out of France.  Quite the opposite was about to occur: Hitler would order the Germans to invade and occupy the rest of France, including Provence.

Artur and Guillaume decided not to speak to Camille about this invasion until it had clearly succeeded.  Early on the morning of Wednesday, 11 November, Artur concluded that Operation Torch was successful.  He gave his okay to Pascal to hang the white towel out of the window on the second floor of the restaurant.  Pascal was jubilant and filled with a sense of decorum while he performed this act of alerting the villagers to some supremely victorious news.  Artur smirked.  The gesture was rather anticlimactic and therefore thoroughly French.

Guillaume apprised Artur that he was going to the maison d’ été.  Artur said nothing; he was well aware of the responsibilities that Guillaume felt toward Camille and Gabrielle.  Guillaume stated that he would drive directly to Château Vallon after speaking with Camille.  He said that he would return to Roussillon by Friday.  Guillaume then paused rigidly, and looked directly at Artur.

“The battery pack in her wireless has expired.  Will you please bring a new one to Camille in a few days?  There is no hurry.”

Artur nodded casually.  “Emile keeps those supplies in his barn.  I need to speak with him shortly anyway.”

They shook hands, firmly and for a longer time than was typical for these two men.  They said their goodbyes.  Their eyes met in a silent acknowledgement that affirmed that this day, and that past week, had brought the war much closer to Provence, and to France.