An Unorthodox War

An Unorthodox War is a historical fiction novel about the women who served as spies and radio operators in the Second World War. The book weaves together true events and people as the fictional character, Elly, is recruited and trained for this extremely hazardous mission. Elly must reach deep within herself to master her trade and then serve her mission in occupied France where she is sent to train maquis fighters. During her work, she must survive the dangers, betrayals, and brutality that these remarkable women faced. 

Excerpt:

Prologue: Vivienne

July 1944

Normandy, France

The schoolhouse had been shelled until only the vaguest outlines still stood. The windows were gaping holes that looked out over fields and down a road. Rainwater dripped through what little was left of the roof and off the damaged joists, making puddles and slick spots on the rotting floor below. The desks that had once sat in neat rows had been smashed for firewood by a succession of temporary residents. The children were gone, fled to some unknown future, as the war had washed back and forth across this part of occupied France. Elly picked her way across the floor in the early dawn light, careful not to step onto the weakened edges of the boards. Her little band of maquisards had washed up in this temporary haven after the skies had let loose a terrific thunderstorm the night before.

She made her rounds, peering out into the rain-soaked fields and the trees beyond. It had been silent all night but that could change in an instant. Somewhere out there were some very angry Nazis who would like nothing better than to find them and exact revenge. The havoc Elly’s French resistance fighters wrought on a tank column that had made the mistake of outrunning their Panzergrenadiers had been glorious. Elly laughed softly to herself at the memory. She felt no pity for the tank infantry out in this storm. They were the enemy. This small haven of quiet would soon be left behind as her little team would divide up and drift back to their encampment outside Alençon. 

<<Vivienne?>> Remi softly called, as he stepped from the lean-to, his dark hair damp and tousled from the rain. Elly looked up as the Frenchman used her code name. He was weighted down with a bazooka across his back and rocket carrier, now empty, slung over one shoulder. His Sten was held loosely in one hand. Remi was her most trusted lieutenant and bodyguard. Elly knew nothing about him, not even his real name. You could not reveal what you did not know. She looked back at him expectantly.

<<Over here,>> she responded in French, and he crossed the floor to join her. 

<< Jorge and his men are moving out,>> Remi said quietly. 

<<Is he still picking up the Kublewagons?>>

<<Yes. We’ll head back south and work our way into Alençon. I need to see if Coraline’s received another assignment from London for us.>> 

As the local Special Executive Operation agent on the ground in occupied France, Elly’s job in this small part of France was to make Winston Churchill’s command to ‘set Europe ablaze’ come to life. Sir Winston wanted every German soldier to look over his shoulder, waiting for either SOE agents or the French resistance to kill him. It was a most satisfying command. Elly’s assigned SOE mission was to train and arm the maquis groups in the Saint Circuit that operated around Alençon. Her private mission was to drive the Germans back to Germany. They had boiled out of their homeland twice in thirty years, causing world wars, and all Elly wanted was for the killing to stop.

<<I am still hoping to take out that munitions factory,>> Remi said, and Elly grinned. That would be a very gratifying target, but they had been denied permission for the time being. Hitting the tanks would probably result in some angry messages from SOE headquarters in London, but forgiveness was easier to get than permission. Elly had realized months ago that there was nothing London could do to her in occupied France. There was literally nowhere worse she could be sent and no more frightening fate than what she faced every day. 

<<Get Antoine and we’ll go home,>> Elly commanded. As Remi went to round up his brother, Elly slung her Tommy gun over her shoulder and rebraided her dark brown hair more neatly. It needed cutting again so that she looked like the photos in her fake papers. The feldgendarms and the French secret police were unforgiving and although the photos were only seven months old, Elly felt as if she no longer resembled the shiny new agent who had sat for them in London. 

As her hands worked, she noticed a torn and grimy book cover sticking out from under one of the larger pieces of desk. Curious, she tied off the braid, picked the book up, and turned it over. The title, Les Misérables, made her vent a small laugh. She held the book in her hands, feeling the roughened cover and the water-damaged pages below. Most of the pages were gone, probably for use as toilet paper. Her fingers snagged on the cover, her skin weathered from months spent in the field, and her fingernails chopped short. She thought back to the woman she had been mere months before, teaching from this very book. Tidy and proper, dressed in skirts and blouses, her hair neatly rolled into the latest fashion. 

Elly looked down at her mud-stained trousers and ugly boots, feeling the now-familiar weight of her Tommy gun on her shoulder, and sighed. She could barely remember the woman she had been the day she had been lecturing from this book. The day that her world had ended when the telegram arrived. The day she stepped out of comfort and privilege. The day she started on the journey that would land her in France as one of Churchill’s Dirty Angels with orders to fight a most unorthodox war.