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Last Liaison in Lyon

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Fritz appeared in front of me and reached over my head to nail a placard to the top of the post, with the words “Barbara Moore, espionne britannique” scrawled across it in large Gothic block letters. Then he dipped his forefinger in a small metal cup he fished from his pants pocket and proceeded to smear a dark smudge on my breastbone ... presumably to give the firing squad a target point.
Madiosi-2019-256-LyonExecution.jpg
As the squad lined up, facing me, it was Reichenbach’s turn to draw near. He wanted to know if I wished to be blindfolded. I thought for a moment and nodded yes, after which he produced a strip of black cloth from his tunic pocket, and reaching around my head, tied it in place. It was rather small, and I found that by looking down past my chest I could quite easily see the ground at my feet, but that the firing squad was out of my restricted field of vision.
 
Fritz appeared in front of me and reached over my head to nail a placard to the top of the post, with the words “Barbara Moore, espionne britannique” scrawled across it in large Gothic block letters. Then he dipped his forefinger in a small metal cup he fished from his pants pocket and proceeded to smear a dark smudge on my breastbone ... presumably to give the firing squad a target point.
View attachment 755435
As the squad lined up, facing me, it was Reichenbach’s turn to draw near. He wanted to know if I wished to be blindfolded. I thought for a moment and nodded yes, after which he produced a strip of black cloth from his tunic pocket, and reaching around my head, tied it in place. It was rather small, and I found that by looking down past my chest I could quite easily see the ground at my feet, but that the firing squad was out of my restricted field of vision.

WOW!!!! Great pic, Madi. Well done!
 
Fritz appeared in front of me and reached over my head to nail a placard to the top of the post, with the words “Barbara Moore, espionne britannique” scrawled across it in large Gothic block letters. Then he dipped his forefinger in a small metal cup he fished from his pants pocket and proceeded to smear a dark smudge on my breastbone ... presumably to give the firing squad a target point.
View attachment 755435
As the squad lined up, facing me, it was Reichenbach’s turn to draw near. He wanted to know if I wished to be blindfolded. I thought for a moment and nodded yes, after which he produced a strip of black cloth from his tunic pocket, and reaching around my head, tied it in place. It was rather small, and I found that by looking down past my chest I could quite easily see the ground at my feet, but that the firing squad was out of my restricted field of vision.
It must be scary to live in one of the buildings on the opposite side!:eek:
 
I especially enjoyed reading stories about the Second World War, and admired the brave underground resistance fighters, but often fantasized about the worst things that could have happened to them, perhaps it was too lucky to be shot like Miss Moore, i used to fantasize about them being sent to some concentration camp, being experimented on by some psycho Nazi doctor, being tortured for so long that she lost her limbs but was still alive
 
I especially enjoyed reading stories about the Second World War, and admired the brave underground resistance fighters, but often fantasized about the worst things that could have happened to them, perhaps it was too lucky to be shot like Miss Moore, i used to fantasize about them being sent to some concentration camp, being experimented on by some psycho Nazi doctor, being tortured for so long that she lost her limbs but was still alive
Marie was sent to a concentration camp, though her wounds were such that she may not have survived the trip.

As a British/American agent, Moore would likely have been extended the professional courtesy of being shot, as we portrayed.
 
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