Behind Enemy Lines: The True Story of a French Jewish Spy in Nazi Germany

by Marthe Cohn

On the way back from the border in his jeep, the major said something that surprised me. “I’m putting you up for a medal,” he told me. “For all you’ve done in Freiburg and here in the south of Germany. The Croix de Guerre. Here’s the citation.” He handed me a copy, and as I read it, my eyes filled with tears. I hadn’t become a spy for the glory. I’d only wanted to follow in Stéphanie’s and Jacques’s footsteps and do what I could to help my country. To be thanked for my efforts so publicly was something I hadn’t expected. “Thank you, sir,” I said, the words on the page blurring. “Thank you.” But the one-armed general had other ideas. He had to endorse the nomination first, and when it came to him from the major’s office, he refused. “Sergent Lenôtre is not with the Second Zouaves” was his terse reply. “Therefore she doesn’t qualify.” So, the only the recognition I got was a copy of a citation that was never enacted. In a strange way, it meant more to me than a medal.