The Bitter Road to Freedom: The Human Cost of Allied Victory in World War II Europe by William I. Hitchcock Page B

by the Al- lies than the French themselves enjoyed. “People com- pare their appearance when the two groups [French and German laborers] arrive for work at the various public works,” wrote the prefect of the department. “ The Germans arrive by car or truck, clothed in rain- coats, with good shoes. The French arrive on foot, with bad shoes and an assortment of cast-off clothing, some civilian, some military.” With no summer and fall har- vest, cattle lacked fodder and straw and in December, the subprefect of Bayeux termed the condition of live- stock in the region “critical.” Petty theft and looting of emptied or damaged houses was a constant problem for municipal police, as the crime blotter in the daily newspapers reveals. Basic services such as streetcars, buses, and trains, and electricity were not in place un- til December and even then were intermittent at best. The region was beset by a criminal racket that traf-
    ficked in stolen military goods, which the police found impossible to control, since Allied soldiers were deeply involved. And prostitution—a trade that was legal in France when practiced in licensed houses with regu- lar inspections—had become a major public health problem; women had begun to ply their trade secretly among a desperately eager military clientele, leading to rampant venereal disease. 66

    Caen residents wondered why they had been forsaken. Drawing on a vocabulary rich in suggestive overtones of Christian suffering, an editorial in the Caen-based newspaper Liberté de Normandie, one of the first dai- lies of liberated Normandy, cried out that “Martyred Calvados Must Not Be Forgotten.” “For the success of our allies,” the paper wrote, “Calvados has paid an un- bearable tribute. Entire villages have been pulverized, towns razed, cities wiped out…. We do not complain. Fate determined that we should become the ransom for Liberty, and we have strong enough hearts to ac- cept this holocaust with pride. We only ask that we not be forgotten. And yet, we are being forgotten.” The editorial appealed for aid from the rest of the country: “ We, in our murdered towns, we have nothing; liber- ated France, which has happily avoided our tragic con- dition, will you not come to our aid?” Caen, it seemed, had suffered so that France might be resurrected; but
    there had been no recognition of the sacrifice. 67

Two girls play on the turret of what was once a tank of the U.S. Third Armored Division, near Mortain. This photograph was taken one year after the Normandy invasion. U.S. National Archives

    In October, General de Gaulle made his first visit to Caen, and promised immediate aid to “Caen mutilé.” “Caen, mutilated in the service of the nation,” he said, “Caen, more proud and resolute than ever, I give you
    my word, you will have the support of the public au- thorities.” Yet in December, Raoul Dautry, the minis- ter of reconstruction, visited the region to inform lo- cal leaders that due to shortages across the country, it would be “many years” before Calvados would be re- built. Indeed, in January 1945, six months after D-Day, the local director of the office for refugees and war vic- tims described the desperate plight of the homeless in the department, and begged for an immediate delivery to the region of 50,000 blankets, 20,000 cots and mat- tresses, 40,000 suits of clothing, and an equal number of shoes. 68

    The face of liberation in Normandy, then, was ugly and bruised. Local authorities and their Allied patrons worked diligently to impose their ideas of order on this liberated space, but they operated in an environment they themselves had violently uprooted. Not only had liberation shattered the long-settled Norman coun- tryside, demolished hallowed churchyards, and razed towns, but the presence of millions of armed soldiers, with enormous power and few constraints, unsettled the local inhabitants and invited criminal misbehavior of all kinds. In the