Odette's Story by Charles VIVES

During the Christmas holidays, I went to question my grandmother about an event which marked her life. Here is her story…

Me: Grandma, could you tell me a story that left a mark on you when you were young?

Odette: Oh yes well, if you want, I am going to tell you a short story which happened during the Second World War. It was in 1942, I was 6 years old. You know it was when France was under the German occupation and at that time, I already lived in La Ravoire but very far from my school. Every day before going to school, I woke up at 5 am to help my parents in the farm to milk cows because they were farmers. I was the only girl of my family, 2 of my brothers were boarders in Grenoble and the third, the oldest, had to fight in the War. So, every morning, after helping my parents, I had to go to school on foot at the same time passing before the Church to visit the priest. From there, I joined my school friends to pray. I had already walked for about 30 minutes... I shouldn’t especially be late, otherwise, he rapped us over the knuckles with a wooden ruler. After the prayer, the priest took us all to school.

When my day in school was ended, I went back home alone and from my first year of primary school. I still had 30 minutes on foot to go home. But one day I saw on the threshold of my house my father with 2 tall men wearing uniform. I ran up to my father because I was afraid, I wondered who these men were. They spoke French with difficulty. I understood at once that they were German soldiers. Then, all of a sudden, one of the 2 soldiers shouted at my father in a very authoritarian tone. In fact he wanted his bicycle. Well, my father refused because it was his only means of transport, my parents were too poor to buy a car. Two Germans obviously stronger than my father didn’t have to continue to have a dialogue a very long time. They started kicking and punching my father. I had great difficulty to try to prevent them from killing him but they pushed me rather violently in spite of my young age. Finally, my dad had to give in by agreeing to give them his bike. He still ended up lying on the ground because of the pain and Germans then left with his bike. Since that day, I’m afraid of Germans and I can’t see them in the same way...

Me: Thank you very much granny !