Gala The Word Wench
12-04-2003, 12:59 PM
The nurse smoothed her white uniform, trying to keep the look of horror from her face. In the clinic's waiting room, a chicly dressed young woman (or as chic as a woman could manage in occupied France) sat reading a book. Her legs were crossed casually, and every woman in the room was aware that she possessed silk stockings. A status symbol in war time---but a pricey one. It was obvious that any woman who owned such luxury had to be one of two things---sweetheart to an occupying soldier---or a prosititute.
The young woman was the later. She was twenty---exquisite in a classic way---her face was lovely, serene. It might have been painted on a renaissance icon---and she carried herself with the easy confidence of the young and beautiful. Her suit was either Chanel, or a very good knock off. She wore a modest pair of earrings that glinted softly in the office light.
The nurse looked at her file. One red star was discreetly marking the manilla folder. After she left that day, a black star would be placed next to it...or perhaps the file would vanish completely from the office. Giselle de Montcray had seen it happen before. The good doctor had ties to the Resistence, a secret she kept without question. Her friends might boast about their boyfriends---their bosses---even distant relatives and their defiance of the Nazis---but Giselle understood that the wrong word in the right ear could cost lives---even her own.
She hated the Nazis. And she was a smart woman---better to hold her tongue than to risk anyone. She glanced at the girl again---wondering if she would ever see her again. A few times---very few, others like her had come in. They talked for a long time with the doctor...then vanished, looking pale and scared. The one thing the women who left shared was a history of social disease. There was treatment---and the sooner begun the better. It did not always work...but the sooner the patient began the course, the better the odds of success.
She had been instructed to show the girl in last, regardless of appointment...and then to leave for the day. She had told the girl that some emrgency cases had come in---hence the delay. Several hugely pregnant patients had helped with that score. But she could see the girl was shifting in her chair---becoming annoyed a bit.
Giselle rose silently, and walked to the waiting area. She offered a small apologetic smile.
"Mademoiselle? I must apologize---the doctor will see you soon. May I ask one of the office girls to fetch you a beverage?"
The girl looked over the edge of her book---perplexed. She was accustomed to being ignored---even scorned. But this was...well...polite. The other women in the waiting room had simply looked through her...silly cows. They were much the same, save that she did not limit herself to one man---and did not wear a polite gold band to announce her unavailabilty.
There was an irony that a girl named Felicity became a prostitute. But she enjoyed sex, and had no interest in the professions available to women at the time. Nor did she hunger for marriage and children. When the Nazis occupied Paris, she made a point of rebuffing the soldiers---not from any sense of patriotism---but simply because she did not like their attitudes or manners. Now she found herself being politely offered a beverage by the nurse...it made her eyes narrow a bit, but she declined it civilly.
The other women glared at Giselle. Had she taken leave of her senses? One did not pander to a street walker, no not even in occupied Paris. Giselle ignored them. The day wore on, and at last the office emptied. Felicity waited impatiently to be called. She stood and stetched...and Giselle was struck by the beauty of the girl. Slim, but sensual, and given a sort of grace of movement that drew the eye...this woman was not meant to be owned or claimed by any one man. That seemed an almost blasphemous idea---but it was still a truth. Giselle wandered to the back, where the doctor was washing up.
"She is still here?" he asked.
"Yes Doctor."
"Excellent...the young---can be impatient," he said, then looked off in the distance, his face falling in grim lines...
"I should go now." Giselle said.
"Yes...unless you wish to stay?" he asked softly. She looked at his face...unreadable. He looked tired---sad---as he did when he knew a patient was dying. But this girl was fine---or would be. There was more to the question than was obvious. She could choose to involve herself with his "other work"---meaning the resistence...or she could go home safely, and never ask a question.
"I will stay" Giselle said. It amazed her how much she wished to do exactly that.
A moment later, she showed Felicity to the Doctor's office---not as she expected, to the examining room. Giselle sat in one of the vacant chairs, and the young woman in the other. The doctor greeted her, and took his own seat.
"So what is the matter of such import?" Felicity asked, one brow arched.
"That may depend on you, Mademoiselle..." the doctor began.
We have treated you for Syphliis successfully...but you have acquired a fresh dose. Normally, we would begin the treatment again. Your last ourbreak proved to be resistent---which is...important to what I am about to say." The doctor looked almost ashen.
"Do go on." Felicity urged.
"Well...first i must ask...do you have a german sweetheart perhaps? A prefered client?"
German---not nazi...he was trying to be polite.
"No. I have the small advantage in my chosen profession---I can be choosy." Felicity said with a faint smile.
"Mademoiselle, what I tell you now is a matter of discretion. The information is valuable to the Vichy forces---and if you talk, i will likely be shot---I and my nurse---though she does not really deserve it."
Giselle swallowed hard. That was accurate.
"I have been asked to seek amongst my patients women who fit a certain profile, if you will. The common thread is that you have been treated for veneral disease---and treatment proved difficult. It means that you are an ideal host for the disease...not everyone has the same difficulty."
"I can guess at who may have asked you to do such a thing...but why?" Felicity asked, drawing a pack of cigarettes from her purse, and lighting one.
"We wish to strike a blow at the occupying forces...specifically the high command. Most french women will not be seen with a german---or even a collaborator...which limits their choices drastically...in terms of...companionship?" the doctor said, reddening slightly.
"And most of the street girls don't like them either." Felicity said.
"Exactly...so here is a suggestion...or if you prefer...a request...the people who have spoken to me have set up other women...of your profession. Fine apartments...lovely clothes--but the women have a purpose. They are all infected, as you are. All have resistent strains of venereal disease...and their clientele is exclusively from the German high command."
"You do not treat them?" Felicity asked, aghast.
"They choose to go untreated. " he replied, looking pained.
Giselle turned white around the lips.
"Are you saying you will not treat me?" Felicity asked, nearly shaking with anger.
"NO, mademoiselle...we would not force anyone to make such a choice...the women have volunteered to do this...but they can only keep up the facade for a short while. The symptoms will become more obvious over time..."
"So you are asking me...to do this?" Felicity asked, her voice flat.
"No. I am making you aware of the option." he said.
"You said that if it goes untreated---it becomes incurable...that is correct?"
"Oui."
"You ask much of me for France," Felicity said, after a long moment of silence.
"No. I could ask this sort of sacrifice of no woman. But...you can ask it of yourself Mademoiselle. If you wish, I will treat you now---today. But the need of this work...you can not imagine the good it can do to the Cause...but again...I do not ask it of you."
"And is only the whores who are being so honored?" she asked brutally.
"No mademoiselle. Women are infected by their husbands...and they too, have been asked. Some have accepted."
Giselle looked horrified. Married women---BECOMING prostititutes? She saw the brilliance of the scheme---but she knew too well the price.
Felicity took a long drag on the cigarette.
"In that case, I do not feel so sorry for myself. I pity them. At least i chose this life. To take it up because one's husband was unfaithful? Unthinkable."
"There is of course, other requirements...if you choose this---you must avoid frenchmen completely."
"Understood...but i have not said i would." Felicity replied.
The doctor nodded.
Giselle watched the scene before her. So this was why the patients vanished...
"And Mademoiselle? I would think no less of you---if this was something you did not wish to do." the doctor added.
"You are kind...tell me doctor...what will happen...if i agree...to me, i mean."
"The disease will embed itself in your tissues. It attacks the heart after a time...and the central nervous system. Madness is a possibility---long term." he said dully.
The silence in the room was oppressive.
"Well, it is an occupational hazard, no? You said I am resistent...which means, in time, I might become infected again to a point where treatment will be futile...that is correct?" Felicity said.
"Unless you take the treatment, and give up your...profession, yes."
Felicity laughed...a lovely laugh, like bells on a spring breeze.
"I could never see myself as a shop girl...very well doctor. Contact your friends...tell them they have an another patriot whore for France...and the Allies."
"You are sure Mademoiselle?" he asked. His tone was gentle---almost pleading. Felicity looked at him for a moment.
"Yes. I am. And I suppose I should thank you. At last my life will have a purpose...though I think the Nazis may not appreciate that point." she said lightly.
She left then, and Giselle stared at the doctor in silence.
Finally, she spoke.
"Phillipe?" His given name---something she had never used.
"Yes?" he asked dully. She could see his eyes---bright with tears he would not let spill. She wanted to offer him comfort---to say that what he was doing was good---and noble---but she understood his tears. A doctor's job---his life was to cure the ill. The war had reduced him to this dreadful duty---and no amount of words would quelle his guilt.
"How many of them are there?" she asked at last.
"Hundreds." he said.
"And they will all...die?" she asked.
"Someday, yes...but it will be...an ugly death. Some will go blind...it may cripple them...and no one will have pity---because they were just whores, you know?"
"Perhaps...it is for us to make sure they are not forgotten so quickly?"
He looked at her.
"Giselle...when the war is over, who will be willing to say they asked such a thing? In this, we are Nazis too. We measure our heroes in terms of battle...but these women...are giving their lives---just slowly...."
He shook his head.
"I hope victory is worth the price. "
"I hope so too, Doctor. That girl...people will be unkind to her---for associating with the Nazis. They will curse her---throw garbage on her in the street...I have seen how the crowd can act."
He nodded.
"And we cannot spread the word---the women would be shot, or hung...and all of it would be for nothing. To a certain degree, they will have the protection of their clientele---but after---we will try to protect them."
She nodded. Her whole world seemed to ripple. She glanced out the window to the street below, and thought of the weight of secrets. Everyone had them...some were just more important than others.
"Giselle...I must go meet some...friends. You would join me?"
He meant the Resistence of course. Her attendence would give him good cover...and it would also mean she would now participate in the war. Her only service before had been her silence---and after all she had learned, it seemed poor service indeed.
"Yes...but let me change to street clothes. I would stand out too much in whites..." she said with a smile.
"Giselle...thank you? It is hard...not being able to speak of this."
"I know...but now you can. You know my address. Come for me in an hour."
"I will."
And so one life changed others, like the ripples in a pond. Felicity proved popular, and the doctor and nurse continued to quietly recruit till the Allies occupied Paris. Not all heroes get medals. Not all acts of courage in war happen on the battlefield. Sometimes it is the heart of a people that will bring victory---and always the price will be huge.
(This story is inspired by factual events. The Resistence did solicit women with venereal disease to infect the german occupying forces. The plot was wildly successful in France, where an estimated 70 percent of the officers were infected.
I do not know if the women were ever honored for what they did. I know of no monument to their sacrifice...but war IS hell...and I honor their memory...)
The young woman was the later. She was twenty---exquisite in a classic way---her face was lovely, serene. It might have been painted on a renaissance icon---and she carried herself with the easy confidence of the young and beautiful. Her suit was either Chanel, or a very good knock off. She wore a modest pair of earrings that glinted softly in the office light.
The nurse looked at her file. One red star was discreetly marking the manilla folder. After she left that day, a black star would be placed next to it...or perhaps the file would vanish completely from the office. Giselle de Montcray had seen it happen before. The good doctor had ties to the Resistence, a secret she kept without question. Her friends might boast about their boyfriends---their bosses---even distant relatives and their defiance of the Nazis---but Giselle understood that the wrong word in the right ear could cost lives---even her own.
She hated the Nazis. And she was a smart woman---better to hold her tongue than to risk anyone. She glanced at the girl again---wondering if she would ever see her again. A few times---very few, others like her had come in. They talked for a long time with the doctor...then vanished, looking pale and scared. The one thing the women who left shared was a history of social disease. There was treatment---and the sooner begun the better. It did not always work...but the sooner the patient began the course, the better the odds of success.
She had been instructed to show the girl in last, regardless of appointment...and then to leave for the day. She had told the girl that some emrgency cases had come in---hence the delay. Several hugely pregnant patients had helped with that score. But she could see the girl was shifting in her chair---becoming annoyed a bit.
Giselle rose silently, and walked to the waiting area. She offered a small apologetic smile.
"Mademoiselle? I must apologize---the doctor will see you soon. May I ask one of the office girls to fetch you a beverage?"
The girl looked over the edge of her book---perplexed. She was accustomed to being ignored---even scorned. But this was...well...polite. The other women in the waiting room had simply looked through her...silly cows. They were much the same, save that she did not limit herself to one man---and did not wear a polite gold band to announce her unavailabilty.
There was an irony that a girl named Felicity became a prostitute. But she enjoyed sex, and had no interest in the professions available to women at the time. Nor did she hunger for marriage and children. When the Nazis occupied Paris, she made a point of rebuffing the soldiers---not from any sense of patriotism---but simply because she did not like their attitudes or manners. Now she found herself being politely offered a beverage by the nurse...it made her eyes narrow a bit, but she declined it civilly.
The other women glared at Giselle. Had she taken leave of her senses? One did not pander to a street walker, no not even in occupied Paris. Giselle ignored them. The day wore on, and at last the office emptied. Felicity waited impatiently to be called. She stood and stetched...and Giselle was struck by the beauty of the girl. Slim, but sensual, and given a sort of grace of movement that drew the eye...this woman was not meant to be owned or claimed by any one man. That seemed an almost blasphemous idea---but it was still a truth. Giselle wandered to the back, where the doctor was washing up.
"She is still here?" he asked.
"Yes Doctor."
"Excellent...the young---can be impatient," he said, then looked off in the distance, his face falling in grim lines...
"I should go now." Giselle said.
"Yes...unless you wish to stay?" he asked softly. She looked at his face...unreadable. He looked tired---sad---as he did when he knew a patient was dying. But this girl was fine---or would be. There was more to the question than was obvious. She could choose to involve herself with his "other work"---meaning the resistence...or she could go home safely, and never ask a question.
"I will stay" Giselle said. It amazed her how much she wished to do exactly that.
A moment later, she showed Felicity to the Doctor's office---not as she expected, to the examining room. Giselle sat in one of the vacant chairs, and the young woman in the other. The doctor greeted her, and took his own seat.
"So what is the matter of such import?" Felicity asked, one brow arched.
"That may depend on you, Mademoiselle..." the doctor began.
We have treated you for Syphliis successfully...but you have acquired a fresh dose. Normally, we would begin the treatment again. Your last ourbreak proved to be resistent---which is...important to what I am about to say." The doctor looked almost ashen.
"Do go on." Felicity urged.
"Well...first i must ask...do you have a german sweetheart perhaps? A prefered client?"
German---not nazi...he was trying to be polite.
"No. I have the small advantage in my chosen profession---I can be choosy." Felicity said with a faint smile.
"Mademoiselle, what I tell you now is a matter of discretion. The information is valuable to the Vichy forces---and if you talk, i will likely be shot---I and my nurse---though she does not really deserve it."
Giselle swallowed hard. That was accurate.
"I have been asked to seek amongst my patients women who fit a certain profile, if you will. The common thread is that you have been treated for veneral disease---and treatment proved difficult. It means that you are an ideal host for the disease...not everyone has the same difficulty."
"I can guess at who may have asked you to do such a thing...but why?" Felicity asked, drawing a pack of cigarettes from her purse, and lighting one.
"We wish to strike a blow at the occupying forces...specifically the high command. Most french women will not be seen with a german---or even a collaborator...which limits their choices drastically...in terms of...companionship?" the doctor said, reddening slightly.
"And most of the street girls don't like them either." Felicity said.
"Exactly...so here is a suggestion...or if you prefer...a request...the people who have spoken to me have set up other women...of your profession. Fine apartments...lovely clothes--but the women have a purpose. They are all infected, as you are. All have resistent strains of venereal disease...and their clientele is exclusively from the German high command."
"You do not treat them?" Felicity asked, aghast.
"They choose to go untreated. " he replied, looking pained.
Giselle turned white around the lips.
"Are you saying you will not treat me?" Felicity asked, nearly shaking with anger.
"NO, mademoiselle...we would not force anyone to make such a choice...the women have volunteered to do this...but they can only keep up the facade for a short while. The symptoms will become more obvious over time..."
"So you are asking me...to do this?" Felicity asked, her voice flat.
"No. I am making you aware of the option." he said.
"You said that if it goes untreated---it becomes incurable...that is correct?"
"Oui."
"You ask much of me for France," Felicity said, after a long moment of silence.
"No. I could ask this sort of sacrifice of no woman. But...you can ask it of yourself Mademoiselle. If you wish, I will treat you now---today. But the need of this work...you can not imagine the good it can do to the Cause...but again...I do not ask it of you."
"And is only the whores who are being so honored?" she asked brutally.
"No mademoiselle. Women are infected by their husbands...and they too, have been asked. Some have accepted."
Giselle looked horrified. Married women---BECOMING prostititutes? She saw the brilliance of the scheme---but she knew too well the price.
Felicity took a long drag on the cigarette.
"In that case, I do not feel so sorry for myself. I pity them. At least i chose this life. To take it up because one's husband was unfaithful? Unthinkable."
"There is of course, other requirements...if you choose this---you must avoid frenchmen completely."
"Understood...but i have not said i would." Felicity replied.
The doctor nodded.
Giselle watched the scene before her. So this was why the patients vanished...
"And Mademoiselle? I would think no less of you---if this was something you did not wish to do." the doctor added.
"You are kind...tell me doctor...what will happen...if i agree...to me, i mean."
"The disease will embed itself in your tissues. It attacks the heart after a time...and the central nervous system. Madness is a possibility---long term." he said dully.
The silence in the room was oppressive.
"Well, it is an occupational hazard, no? You said I am resistent...which means, in time, I might become infected again to a point where treatment will be futile...that is correct?" Felicity said.
"Unless you take the treatment, and give up your...profession, yes."
Felicity laughed...a lovely laugh, like bells on a spring breeze.
"I could never see myself as a shop girl...very well doctor. Contact your friends...tell them they have an another patriot whore for France...and the Allies."
"You are sure Mademoiselle?" he asked. His tone was gentle---almost pleading. Felicity looked at him for a moment.
"Yes. I am. And I suppose I should thank you. At last my life will have a purpose...though I think the Nazis may not appreciate that point." she said lightly.
She left then, and Giselle stared at the doctor in silence.
Finally, she spoke.
"Phillipe?" His given name---something she had never used.
"Yes?" he asked dully. She could see his eyes---bright with tears he would not let spill. She wanted to offer him comfort---to say that what he was doing was good---and noble---but she understood his tears. A doctor's job---his life was to cure the ill. The war had reduced him to this dreadful duty---and no amount of words would quelle his guilt.
"How many of them are there?" she asked at last.
"Hundreds." he said.
"And they will all...die?" she asked.
"Someday, yes...but it will be...an ugly death. Some will go blind...it may cripple them...and no one will have pity---because they were just whores, you know?"
"Perhaps...it is for us to make sure they are not forgotten so quickly?"
He looked at her.
"Giselle...when the war is over, who will be willing to say they asked such a thing? In this, we are Nazis too. We measure our heroes in terms of battle...but these women...are giving their lives---just slowly...."
He shook his head.
"I hope victory is worth the price. "
"I hope so too, Doctor. That girl...people will be unkind to her---for associating with the Nazis. They will curse her---throw garbage on her in the street...I have seen how the crowd can act."
He nodded.
"And we cannot spread the word---the women would be shot, or hung...and all of it would be for nothing. To a certain degree, they will have the protection of their clientele---but after---we will try to protect them."
She nodded. Her whole world seemed to ripple. She glanced out the window to the street below, and thought of the weight of secrets. Everyone had them...some were just more important than others.
"Giselle...I must go meet some...friends. You would join me?"
He meant the Resistence of course. Her attendence would give him good cover...and it would also mean she would now participate in the war. Her only service before had been her silence---and after all she had learned, it seemed poor service indeed.
"Yes...but let me change to street clothes. I would stand out too much in whites..." she said with a smile.
"Giselle...thank you? It is hard...not being able to speak of this."
"I know...but now you can. You know my address. Come for me in an hour."
"I will."
And so one life changed others, like the ripples in a pond. Felicity proved popular, and the doctor and nurse continued to quietly recruit till the Allies occupied Paris. Not all heroes get medals. Not all acts of courage in war happen on the battlefield. Sometimes it is the heart of a people that will bring victory---and always the price will be huge.
(This story is inspired by factual events. The Resistence did solicit women with venereal disease to infect the german occupying forces. The plot was wildly successful in France, where an estimated 70 percent of the officers were infected.
I do not know if the women were ever honored for what they did. I know of no monument to their sacrifice...but war IS hell...and I honor their memory...)