Adrien Boivin (Primary Source)

Transcript

Adrien Boivin, Régiment de la Chaudière, 1939–45 war. This took place in Biervliet, The Netherlands, on 13 October 1944. Continuing on our way, a civilian approached us crying and gesturing, but we didn’t understand him. We thought that he wanted to report the presence of Germans in his house, so we followed him. He led us to the attic and pointed at the floor. What I saw remains one of the most dramatic and moving scenes of the war. A shell had ripped through the roof and debris was strewn about with a large pool of coagulated blood. A man was lying on his side, blood slowly trickling down his side. His glazed eyes indicated that he was dead. A woman in her forties was lying on top of him, moaning weakly. She appeared to be in excruciating pain. We had to react. But my friend, Fecteau, didn’t have the courage to touch her. I don’t understand why I was so calm. I had to dip my hands in blood. One of her legs was turned up. I could see the bone and she was bleeding. With extreme care, I reset the broken limb and stopped the bleeding. I stroked her face and hair, I smiled at her, and I tried to comfort her with my behaviour. Meanwhile, I was thinking of my mom going through the same situation. Thoughts were racing through my head during those minutes. Despite her suffering, the lady tried to smile. Then I had to explain to the old man that we had to leave and that someone else would take care of them. Fortunately, as we left the house, stretcher-bearers arrived and handled the situation. It was only at the end of the day that I reacted strongly to this experience. The other story: I was a prisoner of the Germans. This was in 1944 on 27^th of October in Belgium. Someone who knew how to drive a horse was needed to go to a farm to collect straw. About 125 of us from the Regiment and other regiments were trapped by the Germans in a hotel basement in the middle of town. The Germans were surrounded but they’d sent us deep into the bunker because they couldn’t send us to Germany. So in the afternoon I left with one of the Germans to go to a farm. While the German was talking to the farmer, a woman came up to me and recognized my uniform. She asked me if I spoke French and if we needed anything. I told her that we didn’t have much to smoke and that the Germans gave us one cigarette per day. We were getting straw because we were sleeping on the concrete floor. She reassured me that our guards were kind and tolerant. She said she would try to get me some tobacco and asked my guard to come back in the evening for a pack. I didn’t dare believe my interpreter would agree. The conversation continued in German and I saw my guard smile and tilt his head. It seemed like a good sign. Back at the hotel, in our cage, it was time for bed. I stayed up, hoping the guard would come. Suddenly, I saw the glow of a torch light in the entrance. Then the guard walked in with his flashlight and wandered from face to face, finally stopping in front of me. He handed me a bag with about 2 pounds of tobacco. I opened it immediately to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I couldn’t wait to share this treasure with my comrades.