Issue No. 15

I skipped to the biographical index at the
back – anything to avoid the hard work of
the inside pages in that blazing light. I
recognized some names from my research:
Julien (Captain I Newman) – captured and
executed.
Louis of Antibes – Did I recognize this
name? Or was it “Antibes” that sprang
from the page? – captured and died on an
evacuation march from a concentration
camp.
Matthieu (Captain Edward Zeff) – captured
and survived.
Taylor, Lt-Cdr “Buck” – commanded his
own submarine. Survived.
Vigerie, Baron d’Astier de la – never
captured.
They were characters in a story I’d found
online, translated into French. Across a
wide ocean, with Toronto’s thermometer
lingering well below freezing, it had read
like a thriller. A British submarine, the H.M.
S. Unbroken, had entered the Baie de la
Salis – the very bay beneath me – one
night in April 1942. In charge of the
operation was the book’s author, a member
of the British Special Operations Executive.
Churchill rowed ashore in the pitch night
and climbed steps that led up l’Ilette
peninsula – landing there, right there, on
the ground beneath my bench. If someone
had lingered that night on the terrace of our
Bellevue, they would’ve witnessed the
landing in its moving shadows.
Churchill’s mission was to deliver two radio
sets and two radio operators (Matthieu and
Julien) to the home of Dr Elie Lévy, a
kingpin of Antibes’ Résistance movement
who lived three blocks inland on Avenue
Foch. Under the cover of night, Churchill
navigated the streets alone, locating Lévy’s
house before returning for his colleagues
and supplies. Then, already clutched by
adrenaline, the secret agent ran into Lévy
himself on l’Ilette peninsula. With him was
Baron d’Astier de la Vigerie, a diplomat
who became a last-minute addition to
Churchill’s passenger roster as the
submarine departed the bay beneath
Bellevue.