Genevieve said she was taking us to her home. She gave us instructions to
follow at a safe distance, which would give the appearance of not knowing or following her. Out the back door of the garage and down a pathway to a back street we followed Genevieve until we reached her home about two
miles from the garage in the center of Chauny on rue Paul Doumer, a street named after one of the former French Presidents. We found her home
to be a two story brick house with a high pitched black slate roof. In front was a large, beautiful
garden of tulips of various colors. A white fence separated the house and the large garden from the street. When entering the house we were greeted by Genevieve's father, Alfred, her mother, Marcelle, and older sister,
Denise. Denise welcomed us by saying "Bon jour! Comment allez vous." We were invited to the kitchen for refreshment where we learned the family name to be Tavernier.
Mr. Alfred Tavernier was in his mid fifties, stout build with an outdoor complexion of rosy cheeks. The grey balding area on his head was sunburned from working in the garden. He had a
handsome smile beneath his white walrus mustache.
Mrs. Marcelle Tavernier was a large stout woman in her fifties with
black naturally curly hair streaked with gray. She also had a good sun tanned complexion. Denise was twenty-four and Genevieve was nineteen. Denise had brown hair and a pretty smile. Genevieve had
bright red curly hair, freckles and the ability to speak and understand the English language. She was our interpreter.
When we finished our refreshments, Genevieve asked us to follow her to her Grandparent's home about a half mile down rue Paul Doumer where it dead-ended into another street. At the end of this
street facing rue Paul Doumer appeared her Grandparent's home. Her Grandparents had passed away recently and the house with their furniture was still unoccupied.
We entered the back door to the kitchen then up a stairway to the bedrooms we were to occupy. Genevieve cautioned 
us to stay away from the windows as she left the house. She returned later with our supper. We were
informed that she would bring us breakfast each morning when she routinely came to feed the chickens and gather the eggs from the backyard chicken coop. Farming was probably one of the
occupations of her Grandparents as the large lot next door was under cultivation by a farm hand hired by her father. We saw him working in the field every day as we peeked out the window on that side of the house.
About three days after we took up residence here, Genevieve had some good news for us. Another one of our crew had been found
and was being brought here by the Underground. As we were told his name was Bill, we thought they had found our pilot, Bill Lincoln. When our crewmember arrived, we found out that he was Bill Bergman, the
other waist gunner who took Ed Schwartz's place. Bill was about our age twenty or twenty-one.
We spent the days cautiously looking out one of the front bedroom
windows watching the people go by and waiting for Genevieve to bring our next meal. We seemed to be hungry all the time even though we were adequately fed. We were beginning to feel like
caged pets waiting for our master to bring our rations of food. Twice a week a platoon of German soldiers broke our monotony by marching in front of the house, their hobnailed boots keeping perfect
cadence with the song they were singing. Every day we hoped Genevieve would bring us news of being moved to Paris where we would start the process of sneaking across the channel to freedom.
Bill was looking out the window one morning when he asked Gene and I to do the same. We saw young men pedaling their bicycles as
fast as they could. Each had a pack on their back filled with long loaves of bread, wine and probably cheese. They were leaving town. Bill said that he had been observing this mass exodus for at least
twenty minutes and felt something strange was going on. This day eliminated our hopes of traveling to Paris anytime soon. The day was June 6, 1944, D-Day.
When Genevieve arrived with our morning meal, she entered her Grandparent's house saying, "It has happened. The Allies have
invaded France from Cherbourg to Dunkirk". We found out later that the invasion was at Normandy, a long way from Chauny. This explained the unusual exodus of young men on their bicycles. "Where were
they going?" Genevieve answered this question by pointing out
that everyone was afraid the Germans would begin searching the homes for all young men and transport them to Germany, reducing the chance of an uprising. These men were headed for the woods to
hide and join the Resistance Forces. Genevieve also informed us that we would have to leave right away. After we ate we followed her at a safe distance to her home. A French
Resistance Agent arrived in a small station wagon. We climbed in the back. There were no windows and we sped away not knowing where we were going until we arrived at a large farm. Inside this
large barn, we found to our amazement about fifty other American and Allied flyers. Later that day Gene, Bill and I were taken to a smaller farm nearby and the other flyers were disbursed to other
homes in the farm community. During the night I heard the constant roar of planes flying overhead, one after another all night long. Our home now was a farmhouse about a thirty-minute drive from Chauny.
When I returned to Chauny in September 1994, I met five of these men again in Chauny to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of the
Liberation of Chauny. Their names are (Americans) John Harms and Jack Kupsick, (Canadians) John Neal and Bob Lindsay and one from Great Britain, Stanley Everiss. While there, I learned the owner
of the farm with the large barn was shot by the Germans who also burned his farm buildings.
A middle aged woman lived here alone. She had a cow, chickens,
ducks and some other barnyard animals. I remember the first night she cooked a large bowl of what looked like spaghetti and ground beef. Gene grew up on a farm in Stilwell, Oklahoma and immediately
recognized the dish as tripe. After describing to Bill and I what tripe was, we lost our appetite. The woman first thought we were sick and then she realized that we did not like what she had served us. She
then brought us a large bowl of boiled potatoes and a loaf of bread. We ate the boiled potatoes as if we were eating steak.
The next few days were a pleasant change from being confined to
the inside of a house all day. We did miss the nice soft bed at our home in Chauny, but the hayloft was not as bad as we expected and the brown and white cow below did not seem to mind our sharing her home in the barn.
We spent the day watching the farm animals and wondering if the invasion was successful. Would we be rescued soon?
Our new hostess had made a pet out of her rooster. His name was "El Captain". When she called his name, he came running and
then fall. Every time he tried to run any distance he would fall several times. He was knock-kneed. He also had a strange crow. His crowing would sort of give out. As much as he tried to crow like any
other rooster, he couldn't. The kitchen door was often left open and El Captain would be free to walk in and out as he wished. He thought he was king of the barnyard, but some of the other animals did not think
so, especially the drake that ignored his occasional threats.
Charlevoix, Michigan
June 5, 1944
Dear Mrs. Marco,
It certainly was a pleasant surprise to hear from you, as I feel the same as you do about the situation. I think we have all
been in the same predicament. My husband wrote to me about the same time your son wrote to you and it has been the last letter. Our prayers and all our offerings go for their
safe keeping. May they be found safely and return to us safely.
I would like the addresses of all the crew members families. It seems so much better that we correspond and keep in
contact with all the news we might have received concerning our boys and our husbands knowing for sure that they are close together too.
I am working right now and my sister is with me with her new
born baby, so my time has been occupied almost entirely but I promise I will write at intervals to anyone of our members providing I receive the addresses. If you so happen to have
any, kindly send me their addresses. I want to get acquainted with them too. I have heard from the captain's wife. I also have pictures of the crewmembers and their names but not the
addresses. They have taken such nice pictures. I thought they would be a lucky bunch. I still hope and pray that they are.
You know my husband was a radio operator and gunner. Our
boys (we have two sons) are certainly proud of their daddy. They often dress just like he dressed when he came home to see us. We had such a marvelous visit with him. It will never
be forgotten and also said he gained 8 lbs. when he was home. I am a cook by trade and when he was here I really fed him and I wish I could do it again.
I do hope you hear from your son and I do sincerely hope you receive good news about his whereabouts. I will let you know if I hear anything new. Write if you want to. I appreciate it all.
Yours Sincerely,
Mrs. Clara Denemy
