The Wounded

During the next few days in September, 1944, there were no battles and few skirmishes. The attention of the people of Etobon turned to caring for those who were wounded, including Germans. A small group of resistance took a German truck, killing one of the drivers and wounding another. The wounded man, 19 years old, was taken to the parsonage to be cared for. He had been shot several times in the arm and once through the chest. Dr. Zeigler washed and bandaged his wounds, and André Pautot stayed beside him and gave him water to drink.

After two days, it became clear that the young man was going to live, thanks to the care he was receiving at the parsonage. As he gained strength, he began to talk about his family. His father was a cabinet maker back in Germany. He even said he'd return to Etobon after the war and bring gifts of furniture to the people who were taking such good care of him.

Small groups of German soldiers began to appear in the village searching for food. Perret reports that Germans were found stealing plums, pears, eggs and other items from the village and its orchards:

"Marcel Victor says that four Germans, stopping in an orchard, are eating his plums.  I went to my sister’s house.  A little later, from the stable where I was brushing the goat, I hear Captain Aubert’s voice:  “Put your hands up!”  I went out and saw two Germans, hands up, sitting in front of an egg that my sister allowed them to cook.  Alfred, my brother-in-law, and mayor Charles Suzette took their revolver.  Cousin Marguerite says to the boches:  “At least take your pears.”  “Oh, we’re not hungry any more …”  “Take them!” orders the Captain.

"Jacques grabbed one of the prisoners by the belt and I followed them with one of the revolvers.  What a procession!  Come quickly, American friends, before things get bad!

"Meanwhile, M. Pernol and several FFI captured two other boches sitting on a bench in front of Alfred Victor’s place, who had knocked one down and was sitting on top of him.  M.P. put his revolver in the nose of the other:  be our comrade!  He did and everything worked out. These four thieves had come to Etobon to “requisition” bicycles."

Ominous

On September 13, 1944, an event occurred that would change the course of Etobon's future. There had been battles and skirmishes with the Germans, there had been prisoners and secret camps. But today's event would give the occupiers a reason to almost destroy the village. Jules Perret writes,

"All of a sudden, around 12:30, things turn ugly.  One motorcycle and one German car come into the village, make a U-turn, go back to the Camus Pond, then return.  But, from the top of the big hill, a young man from Bavilliers fires, kills the driver of the motorcycle, then his rider.  Panicking, the occupants of the car, lieutenant X and soldier Lade, get out, and start shooting, firing their revolvers or automatic rifles, chased, harassed.  They went to Henri Volot’s shed, to his barn, then to the track that comes down the Combe au Prêtre.  Still shooting, the men crawl and try to hide.  Caught up close, Lade gives up.  In spite of the pleas of the teacher from Saulnot, Jacques Jeandheur, who speaks German, X won’t listen.  Wounded by several bullets, he drags himself to the Nusbaum’s potato field and collapses among the leaves.  Our guys plead with him to give up, assure him they’ll let him live, because, for the sake of the village, this fanatic must not escape.  Give up!  He refuses.  What should they do?  From my grandfather’s orchard, I watched the scene unfold:  the German among the potatoes, the pack around him.  Jeandheur throws a grenade, without result.  Suddenly, X lifts himself up and empties the contents of the revolver into himself.  Raymond Besson falls dead, a bullet in his head.  The German, too.  Afterwards, a great calm, and I went home to supper."

Death of an Occupier

The German officer who had fought to escape capture in Etobon lies in a field. Jules Perret had gone home to supper, but had to return to the place where the officer fell to see what would happen next:

"When I come back, I ask [my son] Jacques, “Is it over?”  “I think so, but he’s not completely dead.”  It’s the cook who has the sad honor to put an end to this battle.  They bring Besson back in a coma.  M.P. then tells me that they’ve killed another officer on the road at the head of a column of troops, as he gave orders to stop the retreat and hold their positions.  OK.  We can’t celebrate yet.

"Another German car.  It’s fired on.  It escapes on roads that aren’t even worthy of the name.  We’re paying attention now!

"We go to bed.  What a day!  We’re up again early.  A few of us are going to bury the officer.  We decide to put him in a dip in the ground, in Charles Suzette’s field, near my poplars.  We dig a little and then go to get him.  It’s raining.  It is a moving sight.  There he is, lying on his back, stretched out, hands folded on his chest, eyes closed, helmet on his head.  Alfred says, “I’m the one who closed his eyes when he died.”

"I gather up his papers, his photos, to let his family know, later on.  He has a pretty wife, beautiful children.  This awful war!  We carry him on two shovel handles and lay him out with respect in his little grave, not deep enough, but we had to do it quickly.  According to his papers, he was a Catholic.  (I kept these papers a long time, but since I had to hide them, I can no longer find them.)

"I’ve been at war more than four years, the other one for five years, but it’s the first time I’ve seen a German soldier killed."

Covering Their Tracks

Thursday, September 14

The men of Etobon had to dispose of the body of the German officer, and Jules Perret knew there might be serious consequences to the village if it was discovered. They had already heard of the murder of a child at Chenebier following the death of a German soldier there. The Etobonais knew the Germans could uncover their clandestine operations if they searched the parsonage: it served as the central kitchen for the camps of resistance, the British solders and German prisoners in the woods surrounding the village. The men had to work quickly before anyone came to investigate the Lieutenant’s whereabouts. Perret writes:

"I spent part of my morning arranging the Lieutenant’s grave so that it wouldn’t be spotted, adding dirt, putting dry leaves and branches on it.  Three militiamen, supposedly joining the resistance, killed a German at Chenebier.  To avenge themselves, the survivors set fire to Pierre Goux’s house, completely destroying it, and savagely killed little Gérard Pillat, a child of nine or ten years old.  What news for his prisoner father!

"Everything happens at once.  We are hurrying to remove everything from the parsonage that could tip someone off.  M. Marlier and I carry casseroles and mess kits full of food to the church, and hide them under the communion table.  Four veal heads, cooked, in a basket hidden in the brambles of the old cemetery.  At Isaac’s Mill, stoves and boilers, jars of preserves, wheels of Gruyere, sacks of sugar and coffee.  And they brought the wounded Germans to the same mill!  As for Besson, he is dead.  Mama dressed him in one of my suits and we brought him to the church. 

"The cannons are getting closer.  Hope is returning.  As soon as I was in bed, Fernand Goux came to tell me that, without electricity, he couldn’t make Besson’s coffin that night, so that we could bury him at first light.  We decided to take the body to the cemetery and put it in the Coulon family tomb, where he can wait.  11:30 p.m.  I’m home.  It went well.  Poor boy!  His brother is very upset."

Update on Tuesday, October 16, 2012 at 9:15AM by Katherine Douglass

As I compose this blog, 68 years after the end of World War II, I think about the times I led worship in the church in Etobon. Each time I stood at the altar, I thought about what had been hidden there in the autumn of 1944. There had been explosives and ammunition hidden in the steeple above my head, and pots full of soup under the altar in front of me. The drama and tragedy of those times still live in that sacred space.

The War Gets Closer

As Allied troops brought the war into the Franche-Comté, German troops became bolder about entering the village to commandeer food and supplies. By September 15, the people of Etobon could hear the Allied guns from the area of Lure and Vesoul, but the advance of the liberators seemed to have stopped. Instead of continuing to move toward the Rhine river, the progress of liberation was halted, and the villages of the Franche-Comté were still enduring occupation. Jules Perret's journal documents the daily toll that the occupiers took on Etobon:

Friday, September 15

Our men want to join the Americans, but they’re still so far away!  I went up to the Chateau summit this afternoon:  bomb explosions are coming from the plain of Lure.  In climbing up there, I found a comfortable hut in the bramble thicket at La Pianchotte, where four Hindus and the resister Henri Croissant, wounded in the foot, were still camped out.

In the afternoon, while I was at the forge, Germans came to take a heifer from Jules Jacquot’s place.  They paid – does Laval still spend 500 million daily? – killed it with one shot, and took it away in a car covered with leaves.

Besson’s coffin is ready, so we will bury him at nightfall, next to Tournier.  I’m too tired to go.

Saturday, September 16

A German car stopped at Etobon, giving the mayor an order to deliver 24 cows tomorrow to Belfort.  We met at the town hall, discussed, let loose some curses.  Indignant, Mayor Charles Suzette said, “You’re whining because they’re asking for cattle.  In a few days they might be taking men.  And when they shoot them, the mayor will be the first in line!” 

We finished by reaching an agreement.  One of my heifers will be in the group.  At Chenebier, the boches took 24 yesterday and want 12 today.  Are they taking everything before the Americans arrive?

Almost healed, Robert Chevalley, the one from Héricourt, is no longer in hiding.  He tries his first steps in the garden with the help of Charles Perret’s crutches.  René, sick and in bed, is staying at our house.

As for me, while the cannons thunder, I make schnapps with Marcel’s old still.

Sunday, September 17

Fifteen Cossacks stopped for half an hour at Jules Mignerey’s house.  They killed chickens and rabbits, then left. The Americans, after their lightening fast advance, are they running out of gas and ammunition? Two Germans came to our house and leveled their guns at Mama.  They said, “Telephone!” and then left.