Operation Overlord — Hannah Howe

Outside, darkness had descended. Inside, Guy appeared calm, his features betraying no emotion. Mimi seemed restless, her petite feet pacing the floorboards. Through sign language, Henri joked with Paul. Hélène and Kadia exchanged nervous glances. Aymer chewed on a corn stalk, while leaning against a wall. Jean-Claude sharpened his knife on a whetstone. Bernard struggled to tune the wireless, to capture a signal. I caressed my bump and tried to distinguish between nervous flutters and my baby kicking. A grandfather clock ticked loudly in the hall.“Les sanglots longs des violons de l’automne.”We all turned and stared at the wireless. For a second, we all froze as we listened to the announcer’s words: the first stanza of Paul Verlaine’s poem, Chanson d’automne – ‘the long sobs of the violins of autumn’. The announcer had sent the coded message. He’d signalled the start of the invasion.