II.
D-Day came and went. My outfit was in it, and I'm not talking about it because you were there alongside me, Jack, and you know what it was like. Hell, sheer hell."
But now think, Jack. Remember a certain town we went through on our way to Paris - a small village, lets see - Bois le Chateau, no, that's not quite right - well, something like that. And do you remember that I was on recon on our front and went into that village a bit ahead of the rest of the company? The Germans had pulled ' out, fortunately, or maybe I wouldn't be here to tell the tale.
Let me explain something you don't know and didn't know then. I was attached to Intelligence and I had a private mission to perform. We had heard that the Nazis had some of our OSS men here - 'chutists they'd captured and had been interrogating at the old chateau that gave the to" its name. I was supposed to get there first, if I could, find out what happened, maybe get the dope Or the papers or whatnot before the rest of the company came along.
So I go there. The Germans had left, the villagers had gone into hiding, and I got into the chateau with my sidekicks covering me with Garands.
It was the place., all right. We found several of our men down in the cellar, in dungeons left over from the ancient times. Two were dead - they'd tried to get information from them the crude way and failed. I won't go into the details. You've read about Gestapo methods - they're just what they said they were, and worse.
A couple more were insane. It seems they'd had a new technique they were trying out, a really vicious thing - and I can say it didn't succeed in spite of everything. Our men were good - they never talked.
This device - it had been invented very shortly before and. they were testing it on this batch of ‘chutists because they guessed somebody among them might know the date of the coming attack. They were right - but they didn't know the stamina of our fellows.
It seems they first drugged their victim, a sort of hypnotic type of drug that can cause permanent damage, the splitting of personality, schizophrenia, dementia, death. Under the drug, they focused some sort of electric current and pressure that loaded the victim with electricity - painful, which was part of it, and having a terrible effect on the brain and nervous system, as well as the whole body - and that was another part of it.
The idea was to shatter his personality so thoroughly that everything hidden in the mind would be fragmented, completely tom apart from everything else. It literally shredded, splintered the ego and left the memories flying wide open - . - at least that was the theory. The first man we found alive was hopelessly insane, terribly burned, a quivering wreck.
He didn't live long. There was nothing to be done for him.
I found the Gestapo's lists, and Louis Tyler's name was on it. He was down there somewhere, in the dungeons, a victim of the new technique.
We found a couple more guys first, also out of -their minds dying. One was badly twisted in body, sort of torn apart, strangely burned - melted is how I'd describe his appearance. I don't like to think about it.
I found the cell where Louis was supposed to be. I got it open - the Nazis had left only a few hours before.
No, I didn't find Louis. Louis was gone; well, 90 percent of him was gone. There is no such person. I found something in that cell. Crouching in the comer was a little girl. Just a little girl, blondish, looking about five years old, whimpering, wearing part of a man's shirt - a French workman’s blue blouse like Louis would have worn when he 'chuted in.
I took that little girl with me. She knew me, came running to me when she saw me. She took my hand and she trusted me. I took her back with me to the town and the company.
Of course I didn't take her through the war. I had to turn her over to the folks who took care of the war orphans, but I put my claim on her. I adopted her, because nobody else ever claimed her. Officially adopted her. She's been raised in France at my expense and on the money from Louis Tyler's GI insurance. Private schools, foster homes, all that - after all, I'm not married and what was I going to do with a little girl tugging at my heels back in the States?
Anyway, I come to France every year and meet her and act like a father to her. She's a dear engaged now and wanted me to meet her boyfriend and give my approval. I'm waiting for her now. She's going to meet me here.
Who was she really? Well, I don't know. I know that story about Louis Tyler sounds sort of wild and, sure, that's all conjecture about Weininger. So maybe ten percent of any man is feminine. I guess that held true for Louis, like anyone else. I like to kid myself into thinking so.
Oh, here she is. See that pretty blonde coming across the square? The one with the cute pillbox hat and the long hair. Some figure, eh? Ahh, these. Paris cuties.
"Hello, darling; my, you're looking good. Oh, may I introduce an old Army buddy. Oh, You know him, remembered him from back when. Sure, you're right, darling, this is Jack Oldfield. Some things come back to you ...
"Jack, don't stand there gaping. For gosh sakes, pull yourself together. May I introduce my adopted daughter, Louise?"
THE END
According to Virginia Prince, the grand dame of the transgender movement, she knew the author personally. They attended several meetings of the same transgender group in the 1940s and 1950s.