The Beginning

By Martin Lopez

The Beginning is a work of historical fiction which, though classified as young adult reading, is more accurately described as whole family enlightenment and interest. The ages of the characters span over a wide range, allowing readers of all ages to relate to the protagonists’ experiences. 

World War II provides the historical component of the story, specifically the landing of Allied forces on the Normandy coast on June 6, 1944, better known as D-Day - - - but this is only in the background. The real action is centered on the fictional Devereux family, not entirely aware of what is occurring around them as they struggle with everyday life during this period.

The village of St.Mere-Eglise near France’s Normandy coast is the center of the action, which begins on Sunday, June 4.  It presents a typical day under Nazi Germany occupation with the Devereux family preparing to attend Catholic services at the town’s ancient church.  An unexpected early morning visit by 19-year-old Jean Devereux, the oldest son of Paul-Henri and Maryse Devereux, sets a joyful mood for the day.  Concern is also present, however, since Jean is a member of the French Resistance and there are German soldiers and Vichy sympathizers in town.

As the story evolves, it relates events or flashbacks about the remaining Devereux members, including Emilie, the fourteen-year-old only daughter and her best friend, Esther, a Jewish classmate.  The other two Devereux brothers, Luc, 17, and Marc, 9, find themselves in the middle of a firefight between US Army paratroopers who jumped behind enemy lines in the early hours of the invasion, and occupying German soldiers.  The Devereux parents, Paul-Henri and Maryse, give insight to their younger days by recalling past experiences.

Each day weaves Devereux events with invasion action until the story ends with an exciting climax on Wednesday, June 7, 1944.  A final chapter summarizing the life of each of the main characters ten years later marks the end of the book. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: May 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9781977274700

Martin Lopez

The author resides in North Carolina with his wife and near his children and grandchildren. His previous two books, Time in the Zone and TNT (Twenty New Tales), reflect his experiences in the US Army Special Forces and while traveling extensively during his thirty-year career with the IBM Corporation.      The illustrator is married to the author and they live in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. After both graduated from Auburn University they often traveled together in South America and Europe. As a retired English and art teacher, as well as a history enthusiast, she collaborates greatly with the author in all his books. 

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The Beginning

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2024 Martin Lopez

v4.0

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Outskirts Press, Inc.

http://www.outskirtspress.com

Cover Photo © 2024 www.gettyimages.com. All rights reserved - used with permission.

Interior Illustrations by Elaine Tomberlin Lopez © 2024 Martin Lopez

Outskirts Press and the OP logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

To my young adult Euro-traveling grandchildren, Emily and Marcus.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Sunday, June 4, 1944

Monday, June 5, 1944

Tuesday, June 6, 1944

Wednesday, June 7, 1944

Ten Years Later, Summer, 1954

Acknowledgements

My gratitude goes to the greatest collaborator in all my attempts at writing - - - my wife, Elaine. As an old-school English teacher and librarian, her editing is painstaking; as an illustrator and art teacher, her work enlightens the story; and as a keen observer of human behavior, her assessment of the protagonists is priceless. She may have spent more time reviewing this story than I did writing it.

Another significant contributor is my good friend and star librarian, Pat, who recently retired from the Chapel Hill Public Library. She claims this is her favorite story and has read it countless times, finding errors and adding comments each time. Her most important deed, however, was persistently encouraging me to publish the story.

I wrote this story a long time ago; it was my second complete manuscript. One of my early supporters was Nancy, another Chapel Hill Library employee who has sadly and prematurely passed away since then. She put my manuscript to the test by having her teen-aged son read it. He was a notorious non-reader at school, but after he finished this book, Nancy cheerfully informed me that her son had, not only completed the book, but asked for a sequel.

Sunday, June 4, 1944

EMILIE AWAKENED SLOWLY to the sound of church bells. It was a comforting sound, reminiscent of only a few years ago when she was a little girl and every day was a happy day. She didn’t open her eyes and she didn’t move. She wanted to make sure she didn’t disturb the warmth that had built between her thin body and the thinner blanket that enveloped her.

I wish I could spend the whole day in bed, she thought. Just once, I wish I could do nothing but lie in a warm bed all day long. Maybe when I’m a grown woman and live in my own house I’ll buy a thick, heavy blanket and spend one day a week in bed.

Why is it so cold? - - - It’s June already. Accepting reality and anticipating the inevitable, she visualized getting out of bed and stepping on the clammy wooden floor. That thought alone made her shiver under the flimsy blanket and she decided to stay in bed a little longer, even though she could hear her mother moving about in the kitchen.

What’s the hurry? she asked herself. It’s not as if we had to rush to early Mass. Pere Alphonse only holds one service now, the one at eleven in the morning, although he still rings the church bells on the hour every Sunday. The Germans have changed everything since they came to St. Mere-Eglise. They don’t want people to congregate, so the parish is allowed only one supervised Mass on Sundays. At least it makes the Nazis go to church.

Emilie! Where are you? her mother’s voice resonated through the small wooden cottage. I need your help in the kitchen. Get out of bed and hurry . . . Emilie?

Yes, Maman, coming! This was followed by a barely audible whisper as she sprang out of bed and swiftly draped herself in the long-outgrown housecoat, and stuck her bare feet in her cold leather oxfords, the only pair of shoes she owned: Another wonderful breakfast of a single baked potato with a glass of water awaits us. Of course, there’s always the choice of cold or hot water.

Bonjour, Maman, Emilie greeted her mother as she ran into the kitchen, smoothing down her wild blond curls and bracing for a scolding. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that her mother wasn’t angry; she was actually smiling. What could be amusing Maman this early in the morning? Emilie wondered.

And then she saw him, her older brother Jean, sitting at the kitchen table behind a bowl of fresh strawberries.

Oh, Jean, it’s you; how wonderful to see you again! exclaimed Emilie as she ran to embrace the tall, strapping nineteen-year-old man smiling at her. Will you be staying home this time?

No, Little Sister, I have to get back in a few hours. I’ll slip out while everyone’s at Mass, although I want to say hello to Pere Alphonse before I leave. Maybe go to confession and get his blessing.

Jean released his sister and held her at arms’ length in front of him for inspection. The blond wavy hair on both of their heads, their fair complexions and blue eyes, matched perfectly. Maryse, their mother, stopped her bustling for a moment to lovingly witness the encounter of these two children of hers who were growing so fast and under such difficult circumstances, but who still managed to look so much alike. Without a doubt, their coloring had been inherited totally from her who, except for a stray gray hair in her mane, complemented their appearance flawlessly.

My, you have grown tall! But you are as skinny as a reed. Don’t they feed you around here? said Jean mockingly, knowing full well that the occupying German troops had first pick of all available items in Normandy, whether it was food or anything else of value. They left only crumbs for the French locals. Here, I brought some fresh strawberries, a bit of cheese, and some coffee that the underground fellows managed to appropriate.

Jean brings strawberries to his mother.

The intoxicating aroma of real coffee brewing permeated the whole house and fetched the remaining members of the Devereux family: Paul-Henri, the father, his balding spot more noticeable for not having brushed his once-dark-hair before rushing into the kitchen; Luc, dark, his father’s image, the second oldest son at seventeen; and the baby, nine-year-old, uniquely red-headed Marc. Fourteen-year-old Emilie was a middle child and the only girl. As customary in France, the children had been given hyphenated double first names, like their father, but against custom they were addressed by a single first name. Too many names to remember, claimed Paul-Henri.

After bestowing effusive greetings, kisses, and embraces upon Jean, the rest of the family sat around the table for a rare breakfast feast, which in addition to the bounty Jean had contributed, included one potato and a glass of water for each member of the household.

"We are so happy to see you,