Indeed, Georges sold beer, coffee, food, and a concoction made by Madame of rotting melons and half-fermented sugar to the grateful German troops stationed at the bridge. So far as the Germans knew, the Gondrees were simple Norman peasants, people of no consequence who gave them no trouble. It was the 1,450th night of the German occupation of Benouville. They were in separate rooms, not by choice but as a way to use every room and thus to keep the Germans from billeting soldiers with them. Knocking back cheap red wine with two French whores.īeside the bridge, on the west bank, south of the road, Georges and Theresa Gondree and their two daughters slept in their small cafe.
Regular customers, within two minutes they were They strolled west along the bridge road, then turned south (left) at the T-junction, and were on the road into Benouville. They decided they were not sleepy and agreed to go to the local brothel, in the village of Benouville, for a bit of fun. As Bonck went off duty, he met with his fellow sentry, another Pole. On the bridge, Private Vern Bonck, a twenty-two-year-old Pole conscripted into the German Army, clicked his heels sharply as he saluted Private Helmut Romer, an eighteen-year-old Berliner. At 0000 hours, June 5/6, 1944, the scudding clouds parted sufficiently to allow the nearly full moon to shine and reveal the bridge, standing starkly visible above the shimmering water of the Caen Canal. It was a steel-girder bridge, painted gray, with a large water tower and superstructure.
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