Code Name Hélène

by Ariel Lawhon

I am the same but different, and I greet this new reflection with a nod of acceptance. There is metal in my spine and there are fractures in my soul. I resemble Garrow now. I have been changed by war.

We love our war heroes. We love to hear of their trials and exploits, to sit in our warm houses with our full bellies and be carried away to a bygone time. But the truth is—underneath every one of those triumphant stories—lies heartbreak and loss and betrayal. Touch those printed words and you are touching the life of a man or woman who stepped into the fire so others could pass safely through. The thing I try to remember is that those men and women don’t come out unscathed. They remain marked forever by the horrors of war. So it is our duty to remember them and share their stories. The thing I will shout from rooftops, until the day I die, is that Nancy Wake deserves to be a household name. Little girls should dress up as her for Halloween. She should have a prominent place in our history books. She gave so much, and she deserves no less.