Liberation

Living here on the south coast of England it is easy to be swept up in the excitement of D Day and forget that it was some while after June 6th that many parts of France were free of German occupation. In Provence it was the end of August before relief came in the form of beach landings and gradual journeys inland. The Americans take a lot of the credit but they were greatly assisted by the local resistance, known as the Maquis after the scrubland in which they hid and worked.

In the village of Ville sur Auzon, (down the Autoroute du Soleil to Avignon and turn left) we were lucky enough to join the villagers for their remembrance of the 60th anniversary of liberation. Villagers and holiday makers gathered outside the Marie at 11 o'clock to hear the lady mayor make an emotional speech about the British and American liberators and the work of local resistance fighters. A trumpeter played the Marseillaise, a trombonist played the Star Spangled Banner and then someone played God save the Queen on (Spanish!) bagpipes. Representatives of the two liberating countries were given a Union flag and a Stars and Stripes to carry and two gendarmes in shirt sleeves lifted a floral tribute of gladioli and tricolour ribbons. In true provencal fashion we "processed" to the local cemetery ™ ie. we all sauntered through the village accompanied by dogs and children on bikes, stopping to shake hands and kiss friends and neighbours en route. There was no orderly march or reverent silence. Everyone was chatting about memories of times gone by. We learned from our Belgian friends how, at 14, Walter had been orphaned after his resistance fighting father had been shot and his mother had committed suicide, unable to cope with 3 boys under 14. It was also apparent that the local Maquis had included a mixed bag of criminals and unsavoury sailors from Marseilles who, although doing a grand job of confusing the Germans, had been living a high life in the village "making babies"!

The actual "liberation" consisted of an American jeep arriving from the nearby town to find the Germans had run away. Returning to report all was well they returned with reinforcements and the French villagers fired a few shots in celebration. This was thought to be enemy fire so the Americans replied in kind. Fortunately no one was hurt before the mistake was rectified.

At the cemetery three proud veterans, wearing medals which, included a Legion d'honneur, were helped to lay the "wreath" on the war memorial and, standing in glorious sunshine, we held a minute's silence before the last post was played. There were further speeches before we made our way back to the Marie where tables had been laid with wine and pastis, saucisson and crisps. Everyone was welcomed. A gendarme waving his glass of pastis filled glasses with wine and encouraged everyone to join in. There was a display of old photographs of "the day" which locals pored over and identified long lost family and friends. Glen Miller big band music played in the background. An English grandfather was heard to remind his grandson that the old soldiers deserved respect because, without them Tom would not be riding his bike around a French speaking village today. Just before mid day several people were seen to hurry away around the corner, only to reappear minutes later with the lunchtime baguette safely under their arms before the boulanger closed for lunch. It was a day of great friendship and muted celebration and we were pleased to be part of it. Although we only have a caravan there we consider it to be our second home and we are welcomed warmly there each August.

Rosemary Monk