I grew up in Tulle, and was 6 years old when the atrocities occurred. I remember the curfew the day following an attack by the Maquis and Das Reich retook the town. Column of tanks were parked around the town perimeter so that no one could escape.

Early next morning, several SS soldiers entered our apartment, taking away my father. Later that day there were loudspeaker announcements informing us they were to hang the terrorists of Tulle and throw them in the river. We later found out that a terrifying selection process was underway on the grounds of the arms factory.

 Of the 500 men taken prisoner, two groups were formed. Those that would be hanged and those that would next day be deported. It was a distressing and terrifying ordeal that many in the town were forced to watch as their brothers, fathers, and sons were hanged or imprisoned in the factory for deportation the next day. My father was chosen for deportation.

The next day, we were woken early by shouting, telling us that our husbands were about to be taken away. We ran across town, just in time to find our father and say our last goodbyes. It was to be the last time we saw him. He died in January the next year from dysentery.

It was a very long time before I was able to visit my father’s grave in Struthof-Natzweiler concentration camp in Alsace. The trauma of these brutal events has marked me forever.