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Captain Nancy Grace Augusta Wake
When the Ambassador of France in Australia, Stephane Romatet, crossed the room to shake my hand and wish me well for our planned settlement in the south of France, I secretly thanked my distant cousin, Nancy Wake.
Nancy and I were neighbors in the small Australian sea side town of Port Macquarie, half way between Sydney and Brisbane.
Everyone knew who Nancy was. She was Australia’s most decorated war heroine. Winner of the George Medal, the US Medal of Freedom, three Croix de Guerre and of course the Legion of Honor.
Nancy had sold her medals to the Returned Servicemen’s League (RSL) for $156,000 (AUD). She left Australia for the last time in 2003, shortly after Peter Fitzsimmons autobiography appeared.
In the short time that I knew Nancy I got the impression that she was not happy where she was. He second husband, John Forward, had died. There was not much to keep her in Port Macquarie.She had become something of a public exhibition, almost a caricature of herself. “Shooting Germans was good,” was one of her most often quoted lines. Australian TV presenters used to giggle whenever she said it. Even the governor-general was seen to hide a smirk.
Nancy Wake was born in New Zealand, the daughter of an itinerant journalist who drank too much and a mother who ruled her family according to the strict instructions of the bible.
Nancy could not get out of the house soon enough.
In Sydney she left home at 16 and at 18 was on her way by ship to London via Canada and the United States.
In London she learnt shorthand and typing and got a job working as a journalist with a Paris agency.
I never knew where Nancy learnt French. I doubt if she had any formal instruction but she very soon adopted French ways and married a highly successful businessman from Marseilles.
It was the late 1930s and Europe was getting ready for war.
Nancy had seen how the Jews were treated by the Nazis. She strongly felt that this was no way to treat a human being and when France was occupied she very quickly became involved in the local resistance movement helping downed allied airmen get back to Britain. She worked throughout the Languedoc-Rousillon region arranging the safe passage of the airmen.
When the Gestapo found out about Nancy they called her the “White Mouse.” She had a name but they did not know what she looked like.
When working in the Toulouse area she was arrested in a general roundup of suspects. She was interrogated by the Gestapo but she was able to flirt her way out of it. Her husband was not so lucky he was tortured and killed by the Gestapo.
Nancy returned to France in April 1944. She had been trained by the Special Operations Executive (SOE) and was soon leading an army of 7,000 maquisards in the Auvergne.
For a number of months, until France was liberated, Nancy’s army pinned down some 22,000 SS soldiers.
Yes, she was quite a woman.
But did she finally find peace?
I’m not sure.
At the London hotel she ran up a bar bill which she couldn’t afford. There was a rumor that the Prince of Wales helped settle the bill.
When her health deteriorated she was taken to the Star and Garter at Richmond Park, a home for veteran servicemen and women.
The Australian Government sent the Governor General to give her another medal. The pictures of the ceremony show Nancy in a wheelchair, with white hair and looking somewhat serene and content.
She died in August 2011. She was 98.
In March 2013 her ashes were scattered near Montiucon in central France not far from where her army used to operate.
When I got to Montpellier, with the ambassador’s best wishes still ringing in my ears, I went to Castelnau-le-Lez to visit the resistance museum with its story of the local maquis.
There was no mention of Nancy Wake.
I was disappointed but I also learnt a lesson.
There was obviously a lot more to the resistance movement than Nancy Wake’s contribution?
Maybe we had made too much of this high spirited, good looking young woman whose determination to rid France of its enemies was shared by many others of the same persuasion, many of whom are now forgotten.
To all of France’s unsung heroes, I salute you.
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