The document summarizes a presentation given by Jean Poulard about his memories growing up in the village of Mareuil, France during World War II under German occupation. It describes the difficult conditions villagers faced with shortages of food and supplies under German rule. It also tells the story of Stefan Hockmann, a 23-year-old German soldier who was shot and killed by a local farmer as the last soldier leaving the village at the end of the occupation in 1944. His body was buried in the local cemetery for 15 years until being removed by relatives. The document reflects on how the villagers struggled to survive during the war while some were also involved in resisting the Germans through underground networks.

1. Other Peoples’ Lives - 7-10-2112
A true Story from Occupied France during World War II – Paul E. Bolduc
Copyright - Paul E. Bolduc 1
“Who was Stefan Hockmann?”
Other people’s hopes, anxieties, loves and chagrins of yesteryear taint our
personal, daily experience and cause us to reflect on the hidden, bizarre, arcane
and mysterious underworld of just being a person, alive and breathing. If one is
not careful, the lives of others (remember the recent German film with that title)
can almost replace our own impressions.
Again, the question comes up: “Who was Stefan Hockmann?” Was he like that
curious character in the medieval, morality play, Everyman, simply just another
vapid, nameless, stick-figure traipsing through an especially frazzled corner of
our world, decades ago? What were his dreams? Was he a father, a beloved son
and a brother? How was he like every one of us?
But, my monkey brain wanders. What is all this stuff filled with drama, hoopla,
noise, attractions and aversions that gives double and even triple meanings to
our psychic selves? What is this quotidian intercourse in the busy marketplace?
Is this the stuff that existentialist writers like Soren Kierkegaard, Friedrich
Nietzsche and others mean about bringing one’s personal meaning and
interpretation to the essence of oneself? How much merit and influence do the
lives of others bring to our inner selves?
This is the stuff that percolated gently in my feverish brain cells last Friday
evening as I enjoyed an audio-visual presentation made by a French-born author
and memoirist, Jean Poulard, at the Albuquerque home of his older sister,
Rolande. He was visiting her for the 4th of July holidays, and also promoting his
new book entitled Les Caves du Mareuil: L’histoire d’une famille et d’un village
1939-1948. or The Champagne Cellars of Mareuil - The story of a Family and of
a Village - 1939-1948.
After the usual, haphazard and farcical audio-visual, equipment failures that
seem to plague everyone brave enough to make a public presentation, the
essence of his memories, all wrapped up in historical details, began to flow. It
was two months before the crushing advance of the Teutonic mechanized forces,
the Panzers and the Luftwaffe, that Jean first saw the light of day in the village of
Mareuil, near the France-German border.
This was the surreal period referred to as the Phony War, highlighted by lots and
lots of sharp rhetoric and, fortunately, no sharp shrapnel. But, irony and gallows
humor also marked this time period (October 1939 - April 1940) as la drôle de
guerre - the Funny War - and the Sitzkrieg - the Sitting War. It seems that the
French and German populations were mocking out loud the preposterous flag
waving and imminent, mutual carnage cheered on by politicians and generals on
both sides.

2. Other Peoples’ Lives - 7-10-2112
A true Story from Occupied France during World War II – Paul E. Bolduc
Copyright - Paul E. Bolduc 2
Locals in Mareuil were living under the impression that: “Sticks and stones will
break my bones, but names will never hurt me.” Just like so many of our precious
hopes and fragile dreams, these fine peasant folks were correct in their attitudes,
but just for a short while. High explosives, aerial bombing raids and heavy,
mechanized armor had a way of changing their fragile attitudes still laced with
peace and hope.
Wartime memories of a young boy, who experienced firsthand nearly five years
of tumult and hardship (1939 to 1944), might only form a sketchy and quite
imperfect picture describing those events. What were the prevailing attitudes,
hopes, anxieties and aspirations of those villagers, who were then completely
enveloped by Wehrmacht, Waffen-SS and Luftwaffe personnel? The scattered
memories of a little boy begin to fill in some interesting details.
Jean recalls the many young musicians from the village, whose melodious
contributions made Saturdays and Sundays pleasant, if not sadly joyful also. One
of his three sisters played a musical note or two at these festive events. Wine
from the Champagne region where Mareuil is nestled naturally assuage anxieties
introduced by fervent German administration of the tiny enclave.
Apparently, the usual French table niceties, such as fresh fruits, cheeses and
breads were often in short supply, so underground merchants in the region set
up an illicit food distribution system, called le marché noir, to ameliorate the
scarcity. It seems that a German patrol, which had been assigned to watch the
goings and comings of the villagers, once stopped one of Jean’s sisters, who
was riding her bicycle on a dirt road, near a small farm by the village.
Her secret cache did not escape the notice of the soldiers. Naturally, their main
concern was the illegal trafficking of weapons, that the Allies often dropped into
open fields outside Mareuil. Several people from the village belonged to la
Résistance, called le maquis, so German anxieties along this line were not
unreasonable. Fortunately for Mathilde (a fake name), she was only delivering
cakes and fresh fruits to her neighbors, a fact that the German soldiers on patrol
let pass, with little concern.
Life sometimes places us in difficult situations, where a neat compromise seems
most benign and humane. Mathilde was the recipient of this entente. This is a
practical case of live and let live, which a population in distress, and without
power, perhaps, naturally conforms to and accepts. Certainly, the villagers had a
secret agreement to resist whenever possible, but open sabotage of railroad
tracks and bridges, plus the assassination of any German official, would have
unleashed horrific reprisals upon friends, neighbors and family members. Torture
and murder would have reigned the day.
But, as Jean relates in his memoirs, in the summer of 1944, he was walking by
the local canal with his mom when he spotted two town officials dragging out the

3. Other Peoples’ Lives - 7-10-2112
A true Story from Occupied France during World War II – Paul E. Bolduc
Copyright - Paul E. Bolduc 3
bloated and decaying body of a man, who was suspected of working with the
German authorities in Mareuil. Attached to his body, Jean could see a very large
rock, connected to the torso with barbed wire. Apparently, someone in the village
took the law in his own hands. No lady would do this. Curiously enough, the local
newspaper working closely with the German gendarmerie never indicated that
some foul play might have been involved. According to the official report, the
gentleman found at the bottom of the canal had drowned. The locals, however,
realized that a collabo (a popular term for a collaborator) was no longer breathing
the fine air of Mareuil.
But, what about Stefan Hockmann? How does he fit into this tale of forgotten
lore? Now, a focus is brought onto the last days of August 1944 (actually, August
25, 1944) when the last German garrison surrendered to Allied forces in Paris.
Maybe, life is simply unfair and even cruel at times. The last German soldier to
leave Mareuil on August 27, was Stefan Hockmann, a young, handsome, twenty-
three-year-old, Wehrmacht soldier rapidly exiting the village on his motorcycle.
He may have stopped to pay some needed attention to his motorcycle with its
attached sidecar. Mareuil is a small village. A few villagers, who were later
interviewed, recall clearly this last departing enemy soldier. However, this was no
Waffen-SS or Gestapo merchant of death, but simply a regular soldier from the
ranks of the Wehrmacht..
Bang!
A shot cracked, breaking the solemn silence of the moment. A farmer, who had
managed to hide an old carbine from the previous war, killed Stefan Hockmann
dead in his tracks and in cold blood, some villagers would later say. His blood-
stained, military, ID papers plus his Sonderausweis (a special permit) to travel
elsewhere are all that remain today.
Then, there was no more Stefan Hockmann. He laid buried for fifteen long years
at the furthest corner of the local cemetery, until finally a relative removed his
remains. Curiously, everyone in Mareuil knows the name of his executioner, but
nobody will say his name. This departing act of cold vengeance was not forgotten
or forgiven.
Curiously today, these memories of hard times of dread and scarcity imposed on
a conquered people by an avenging enemy army seem to be strangely bathed in
a benign and quiet acceptance of life as it actually is.
[ENDE]

4. Other Peoples’ Lives - 7-10-2112
A true Story from Occupied France during World War II – Paul E. Bolduc
Copyright - Paul E. Bolduc 4
Epilogue
Many relatives, friends and neighbors from the village were killed during the initial
Luftwaffe bombing raids and, yet, there is, today, a sense of forgiveness
expressed by the citizens of Mareuil even after four years of Nazi and SS
discipline. I found this attitude curious, but also quite encouraging.
Jean's older brother was sent to work in a forced labor camp in Germany in 1944.
He did survive, but he still seems to have some personal reservations about his
involuntary assignments as a war prisoner.
Official French records containing the names of the French citizens killed in the
war and also the names of the men sent to Deutschland for forced labor have
been remarkably cleansed from most newspaper and city archives. Getting a
clear history is very difficult. Could it be that this fact underscores a deep national
shame on a grand scale? Four years of captivity could not have been a piece of
cake.
Jean gathered most of his material from direct contacts in personal
conversations. Actually, the German authorities were better at keeping records,
so he befriended two Teutonic authorities on forced labor camps during WWII for
a great amount of additional information. Now, all three historical researchers are
friends. Isn't life a kick in the head?
Finally, I am prompted to add a personal note. Any American boy or girl, who
bravely sat through dozens of World War Two, black and white movies shown on
television in the 1950s, will tell you that any French villager, who was not actively
causing trouble for the ruling, Nazi authorities, was a cringing, slovenly coward..
Maybe, my boyish concept of the Resistance was highly influenced by
Hollywood’s Errol Flynn concept of swash buckling daring do? Apparently, the
people of Mareuil were simply trying to stay alive. Being a recognized folk hero of
the community did not seem to rank high on their list of honors, especially since
discovery by the Nazi rulers meant the torture and death of loved ones.
[ENDE]