As the dawn of August 25th, 1944 approached, Steve Weiss and seven comrades lay bedraggled in an irrigation ditch just east of Valence, and 150 yards from a farmhouse that was half hidden by a nearby peach orchard. Over night, they had been heavily shelled and left stranded as their company retreated. They would be listed as missing in action for 6 weeks. Telegrams would be sent home, the ominous opening words hitting family like a rifle shot: “We regret to inform you…”
During the early morning, with low spirits and at great peril, the eight GI’s were able to evade the Germans and seek sanctuary at the farmhouse. The family greeted them as liberators, not realizing the gravity of the situation. Steve, in halting, high school class French, shocked the farmer into reality. The farmer hid them in his hayloft and pondered what to do. Risking his life and his family, the farmer, Mssr. Reynaud, contacted some members of the Resistance serving as police officers in occupied Valence. A plan was concocted: the soldiers would dress in police uniforms and be driven to safety, four at a time, in a black Citroen police car. The SS was searching area house by house for cut off Americans. This was their only chance of escape. If they were caught dressed as French policemen, they could be shot as spies.
The first group left in the Citroen; the tension in the hayloft hung heavy in the air. An hour later, the Citroen returned, the first group having reached safety. The second group dressed in the uniforms, waved farewell to the Reynaud family, entered the Citroen and drove off. Fifteen minutes later, a German patrol burst into the hayloft. The Reynauds were gathered together and threatened at gunpoint. They revealed nothing.
The Citroen drove into enemy-held Valence. The Germans would hold it for another seven days. Incredibly, the car was not stopped by any of the German street patrols. It drove to an isolated farmhouse on the east bank of the Rhone where the four occupants were reunited with the first four. But the tenacious Germans continued their search, eventually closing in. With minutes to spare, the group was whisked out the rear entrance and dashed to the river bank, where they were rowed across the swift moving waters of the Rhone and taken to the Hotel Nord on the town square in Saint-Peray.
Steve fought with his rescuers into early September and became fast friends with a wily Gendarme Major named Fernand Mathey. He tasted his first Chateauneuf-du-Pape and witnessed the execution of a collaborator. Steve and his group joined up with O.S.S. American paratroopers until the Germans were cleared from the area. The war had moved northeast, and he rejoined the 36th Division somewhere between Lyon and the Vosges. On October 3rd, 1944, Steve Weiss turned 19.
(The above was borrowed and adapted from an article written by Stephen J. Weiss and provided me by the author)
Late yesterday afternoon, I visited the Reynaud farmhouse and met Madame Reynaud, the daughter of the farmer who risked his life to save eight GI’s from capture and possibly death. She was 11 years old in August of 1944.
Earlier in the 
day, I had an unbelievable, three-course lunch in Montelimar with three elderly gentlemen, who as teenagers were members of the Resistance. One spent 3 years in a concentration Camp.
After lunch, we visited the Montelimar Memorial to the Americans and Frenchmen who died during the occupation 
and liberation of the area, including those who were deported to concentration camps. On the wall, I noticed the name of Private Louis J. Werdman. 
During the early morning, with low spirits and at great peril, the eight GI’s were able to evade the Germans and seek sanctuary at the farmhouse. The family greeted them as liberators, not realizing the gravity of the situation. Steve, in halting, high school class French, shocked the farmer into reality. The farmer hid them in his hayloft and pondered what to do. Risking his life and his family, the farmer, Mssr. Reynaud, contacted some members of the Resistance serving as police officers in occupied Valence. A plan was concocted: the soldiers would dress in police uniforms and be driven to safety, four at a time, in a black Citroen police car. The SS was searching area house by house for cut off Americans. This was their only chance of escape. If they were caught dressed as French policemen, they could be shot as spies.
The first group left in the Citroen; the tension in the hayloft hung heavy in the air. An hour later, the Citroen returned, the first group having reached safety. The second group dressed in the uniforms, waved farewell to the Reynaud family, entered the Citroen and drove off. Fifteen minutes later, a German patrol burst into the hayloft. The Reynauds were gathered together and threatened at gunpoint. They revealed nothing.
The Citroen drove into enemy-held Valence. The Germans would hold it for another seven days. Incredibly, the car was not stopped by any of the German street patrols. It drove to an isolated farmhouse on the east bank of the Rhone where the four occupants were reunited with the first four. But the tenacious Germans continued their search, eventually closing in. With minutes to spare, the group was whisked out the rear entrance and dashed to the river bank, where they were rowed across the swift moving waters of the Rhone and taken to the Hotel Nord on the town square in Saint-Peray.
Steve fought with his rescuers into early September and became fast friends with a wily Gendarme Major named Fernand Mathey. He tasted his first Chateauneuf-du-Pape and witnessed the execution of a collaborator. Steve and his group joined up with O.S.S. American paratroopers until the Germans were cleared from the area. The war had moved northeast, and he rejoined the 36th Division somewhere between Lyon and the Vosges. On October 3rd, 1944, Steve Weiss turned 19.
(The above was borrowed and adapted from an article written by Stephen J. Weiss and provided me by the author)
Late yesterday afternoon, I visited the Reynaud farmhouse and met Madame Reynaud, the daughter of the farmer who risked his life to save eight GI’s from capture and possibly death. She was 11 years old in August of 1944.
Earlier in the 
day, I had an unbelievable, three-course lunch in Montelimar with three elderly gentlemen, who as teenagers were members of the Resistance. One spent 3 years in a concentration Camp.
After lunch, we visited the Montelimar Memorial to the Americans and Frenchmen who died during the occupation 
and liberation of the area, including those who were deported to concentration camps. On the wall, I noticed the name of Private Louis J. Werdman. 
1 comment:
Looks like you guys have only gone 100 miles in a week.
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