Introduction

When a German construction crew arrives in May 1943 to build a flak tower near the French village of Petite Vigne, its inhabitants must decide whether to outlast the occupiers, resist them, or collaborate with them. Divisions among the Germans threaten them and their subjects. The Tower at Petite Vigne is a fast-paced, absorbing story about people caught up in the chaos of war.

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Excerpt

1.

The centuries-long practice of viniculture gave Petite Vigne its name. Like many such places, the remote village’s inhabitants were content to keep the outside world at arm’s length.

It came as no surprise therefore that the outbreak of war in September 1939 attracted scant attention. Things changed nine months later, when the German army pierced the Ardennes Mountains and spread like a cancer throughout the country’s interior.

A knot of retreating French troops stopped in the village square, seeking food and water for themselves and their horses. The exhausted soldiers told tales of being harassed by swarms of dive-bombers and pursued by hordes of tanks.

“They’re unstoppable,” said an unshaven corporal. “Leave while you can.”

People asked one another where they would go. It was a question for which no one had an answer.

Two days later a German motorcycle reconnaissance company appeared. Its members reeked of gasoline, sweat, and triumph.

All but one of the riders dismounted. He trained a machine gun on the civilians. His comrades stretched their tired limbs and headed for the fountain in the middle of the square. Setting down their rifles, they poured cool water over their close-shaven heads and splashed one another like the boys they were.

By means of hand motions, Mayor Henri Marteau tried to convince the Germans’ commander that the village sheltered no French soldiers. The officer grunted and rapped out an order.

Levity evaporated like sun-kissed frost. The troops grabbed their weapons and fanned out toward the buildings on the perimeter of the square. Their hobnailed boots crashed on the cobblestones.

When the search turned up no stragglers, the soldiers mounted up and left. The people didn’t move until the rumble of motorcycle engines faded.

“I’ve never had a gun pointed at me,” said Madame Justine Dormais. “And such a big one. It was rather exciting.”

“For God’s sake, woman!” said Raoul Aubert. “We could have been shot!”

* * *

In the ensuing weeks, terse bulletins concerning savage fighting—and mounting reverses for French arms—came over the big radio in Claire Panisse’s tavern. Then June 14th brought the stunning news that the Germans had entered the open city of Paris.

“There’ll be no ‘Miracle on the Marne’ this time,” said Claire. “Unlike during the last war, the Parisian taxicab drivers will be too busy saving their own skins to ferry troops to the front.”

Eight days later reports that Marshal Pétain had signed an armistice with the Germans broke like a sudden thunderstorm.

“Millions of francs sunk into that silly Maginot Line, and Corporal Hitler’s hordes outflank it with ease,” said Claire. “Our army is reduced to ruin in mere weeks and now we’ve surrendered to the filthy Germans.”

“What else was there to do but sign an armistice?” said Martin Dax. “At Dunkirk the English cowards fled across the Channel to safety, leaving us alone to face the invaders.”

“Are you saying our downfall came about as the result of a conspiracy?” asked François Brunet.

“Mark my words,” said Martin. “International Jewry is behind these events.”

“Do you even know any Jews?” said Frederic Laval. “There are none in Petite Vigne.”

Martin tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger. “One needn’t be personally acquainted with rats to know they spread contagion.”

He finished his drink and left.

“Such evil talk,” said Henri. “We were beaten because the politicians let Germany re-arm and looked the other way when Hitler gobbled up all those little countries.”

“What does ‘ar-mis-tice’ mean?”

“Never mind,” said François. He patted his apprentice Luc Charlier on the shoulder. “The Germans will leave us be, just like during the last war.”

At first it seemed this prophecy would come true. During the balance of the summer of 1940, only a couple supply convoys stopped in Petite Vigne. Drivers climbed from the cabs of their laden trucks and crowded into the tavern. They plunked down money on the bar and pointed at what they wanted to drink.

By autumn even the convoys no longer came. The village released a collective sigh and settled back into its peaceful anonymity, an anonymity that lasted almost three years.

* * *

Father Arno Meier stepped out of Our Lady of Sorrows’ rectory for a walk around the square on a brilliant day in May 1943. He had been assigned to Petite Vigne fresh from seminary, just before the outbreak of war. Despite having been their pastor for some time now, Meier, who hailed from Strasbourg, was still viewed with suspicion by some of his conservative parishioners.

Breviary in hand, the priest was lost in contemplation. A vehicle drew up beside him and its horn blew, causing Father Meier to drop his book in surprise.

“My apologies, Father,” said the middle-aged driver, picking up the breviary. He spoke fair French but Father Meier recognized his accent as Bavarian. The speaker and the younger man with him wore brown uniforms and caps. Their small van was painted dark yellow, with green and brown stripes; its door bore the stenciled legend “ORG TODT.”

“I speak your tongue, Monsieur,” said Father Meier.

“Imagine that, Josef. Running into someone out here who knows German!”

“I was born in the Alsace.”

“Ah,” said the passenger. “So you have been a citizen of the Reich for some time.”

The Germans exited the vehicle. The passenger’s gait betrayed his artificial leg.

“It is true that Germany annexed Alsace-Lorrain in 1940,” said Father Meier. “However, I consider myself to be a Frenchman.”

“Of course, of course,” said the driver. “Now we are all citizens of Greater Europe. To business, then: where is the mayor of this place to be found?”

“Monsieur Marteau’s shop is in the building with the blue door.”

“Thank you,” said the German. “I am Franz Deggendorf of the Organization Todt. Hoffman here is my assistant.”

“Welcome to Petite Vigne,” said Father Meier. “I beg your pardon but I cannot tarry. It is time for catechism instruction.”

“It’s a priest’s happy duty to teach the little ones!” said Deggendorf.

2.

The truck’s appearance had drawn Henri to the window of his shoemaker’s shop. He watched the strangers conversing with Father Meier. When they began walking in his direction, he hurried to his bench and bent over his work. He didn’t look up until the tinkling doorbell announced them.

“Good afternoon. May I be of service?”

The elder of the pair drew in a breath of leather-and-glue scented air before he spoke.

“Monsieur le Mayor, here is Foreman Franz Deggendorf of the Organization Todt. My men have a building project here. Here is an order for needed land. Work starts very soon.”

“Are you just taking the land?”

“No,” said Deggendorf. “Look at paper and see that we will pay a fair price for it.”

Deggendorf bowed and the Germans left. Henri returned to the window as their vehicle rounded the square and headed for Le Rochambeau. He read through the order.

If only Marie were here. She would know what to do. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

1. Compare the leadership styles of Mayor Henri Marteau and Foreman Franz Deggendorf. What issues and stresses does each man face, and how effectively does he deal with them? Are there parallels between the two of them?

2. Sometimes war novels characterize the people on one side as heroes and those opposing them as villains: life isn't so simple. Discuss the complexity of attitudes and interpersonal relationships between the French and German characters in The Tower at Petite Vigne. Did the way in which any of them acted surprise you? If so, how?

3. The appearance in Petite Vigne of escaped POW Robert Florac dramatically alters the plot. Upon whom did Florac's return have the greatest impact? How might things have gone differently had he not come back?

4. As the story opens Father Arno Meier is an outsider: coming from a big city he is viewed with suspicion by the inhabitants of the remote village to whose Roman Catholic parish he is assigned. How does Meier evolve into being more than a purely religious leader? What internal struggles might he have faced in deciding to take a role in resisting the Germans?

5. To her father's consternation, Josette Marteau's natural teenage rebelliousness involves participation in actions that put her in danger and ultimately jeopardize her life. Had you found yourself in Josette's circumstances, would you have been tempted to do some of the things she did? Where would you draw the line in acting in ways that threatened your safety, or that of your family?

Weblinks

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