The town of Ste. Mère Église sits almost in the middle of what is called the Cherbourg Peninsula. Most of the Norman people are farmers or dairymen. Some are fishermen, but the Nazis would not let them fish. Instead, the Germans set up barriers along the shore to prevent boats from landing. And they lined the coast with huge guns. Also, the fields were spiked with posts and barbed wire to keep American and British gliders from landing.
For many months, the French people had been expecting British and American armies to come in a great invasion that would drive the Nazis out. But their hopes had always failed. No troops had come to liberate them, and the Normans felt glum and often angry. More than anything else they wanted to be free.
The only thing they could do was to cause all possible trouble for the Nazis secretly. Those who banded together in “Underground” or Resistance groups were called Maquis. If a Maquis was caught by the Germans he was very likely to be shot.
Nevertheless, many French ran the risk of being detected helping the British and Americans. Even very young men and girls operated in the secret Underground.
The Nazis tried to watch everyone, but sometimes the most innocent-looking car on the road was being used to trick them, even in the quietest village.
It was happening now. Marie Gagnon nodded to her father. “Bring him in,” she whispered. “I’ll get the room in the attic ready.”
“One moment,” her father said. “I’ll send André out of the way first. What he doesn’t know he won’t chatter about.”
He shouted through the door, “André. Come here.”
There was a clatter of heavy shoes and the boy reappeared.
“Son,” his father said sternly, “have you taken the eggs to old Schmidt yet?”