The first of June brought a response from Ursula’s mother. It was a
strange, disconnected letter written in a disorderly handwriting,
nervous and irregular. She wished her daughter great happiness, and at
the same time warned her against marriage. Men were all egotists, she
said; they were all cruel and untrustworthy. As for herself, she was
quite ill, but she was feeling better since she had been seeing a noted
psychoanalyst. She described her luxurious life in California without
ever asking whether her daughter was in need of anything. In closing,
she said that she adored Ursula and was sure that she would be happy.
“But do be sensible, dear, and don’t have any children,” she added.
The next day, Michel submitted his marriage request to the Army.
On the morning of June third, he telephoned Ursula at the barracks. He
was at a railway station. He had just received his orders, and had to
leave within half an hour. He thought it was for maneuvers and that he
would be back in a week. He loved her and would write to her as soon as
he could.
Ursula was not particularly disconcerted by this sudden departure. She
was used to the ways of the Army, and counted on seeing Michel the
following week.
The weather was magnificent. At lunch hour our little group went to take
sun baths in Hyde Park. We rolled down our stockings, removed our ties,
and rolled up our shirt sleeves. Sheep moved among the trees, cropping
the grass. Ursula read to us from a book of poetry.
* * * * *
I had a very early errand in Mickey’s office. Uncle Henry was already
there, perspiring in huge drops before a pile of letters that he was
answering. As I waited for some documents, he received a steady
procession of visitors at an accelerating tempo, under the indifferent
eye of the sentry. From time to time an explosion was heard, but no one
paid any attention. It was only another V-2 (for now there were also
V-2’s). Everyone was buried in the daily routine and life was relatively
calm.
Suddenly there was a strange siren—one we had never heard before. A
red-faced lieutenant burst into the room. At the same moment we all
knew. We all cried out together, “They’ve landed!”
“In Normandy! At home!”
“The invasion!”
“They’ve landed!”
We had known in the last days that it was coming, and yet we had not
known, for we had known it for so many years. Uncle Henry’s face broke
out into a great grin of relief, and he sweated more profusely than
ever, for now at last he could confess that he had been in on the
secret—a few in our services had been briefed. The lieutenant pounded
him on the back. Mickey came in just then, late, with a dazed,
uncomprehending expression, and we all fell on her, hugging her.
“They’ve landed!”
It was an unforgettable day. When I went out, the English stopped me in
the street, shaking my hand and crying, “_Vive la France!_” People
walked with their faces radiant. French sailors crossed Piccadilly
singing. American soldiers bought rounds of drinks for the English, and
there was joy everywhere. The second front! The second front in which no
one had believed any more, so long awaited on both sides of the Channel.
Finally it was true! People were happy, as though the war were already
over.
In the street, people tore the newspapers out of each other’s hands.
When I got back to our newsroom I found everyone clustered around the
radio. The British and Americans were already advancing on the roads of
Brittany and Normandy. The Germans were in retreat. The Maquis was
fighting in the interior of France. The FFI had occupied German
barracks, and the population everywhere was in revolt.
I didn’t see Ursula until that evening. So this was why Michel had left
so quickly. Now we understood. Ursula was pale and nervous, but during
dinner in Down Street she, like everyone else, talked of nothing but the
invasion.
We realized that we would all soon be leaving to work with the Army,
driving trucks and helping in all sorts of tasks in makeshift
headquarters under the hazards of war. There was a general fever. Who
would be the lucky ones to be the first to leave? What would be their
jobs? Certain of the girls assumed airs of importance and whispered that
in their offices they had been promised immediate embarkation.
That night there was dancing in the barracks, and the noise became
intolerable. Finally some of us went up to the dormitories. Monique was
meticulously packing her suitcase so as to be ready to leave at an
instant’s notice. Ursula sat down on her bed and began to take off her
stockings. Suddenly she jumped up and went running out of the room.
Worried, I followed her to the bathroom, and found her throwing up her
entire dinner. I told her not to be worried, that it was the emotion of
the day. But Ursula looked at me with her large eyes and said quite
simply that she was going to have a baby. It was just the sort of news
to learn on this day!
Ursula had already suspected it for a week. That afternoon she had been
to see a doctor. He had told her that he could not yet be certain, but
that it was more than likely that she was pregnant.
I said all that I could find to say. That it was wonderful, and that she
should let Michel know right away, and perhaps he would be able to come
back on compassionate leave, and they could be married.