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The Sussex Plan and Three Very Brave Women

Sandy and I have decided to take off August in regard to creating two new blogs for the month. We will switch our focus to finishing the second volume of the German occupation of Paris (Where Did They Put the Gestapo Headquarters?). We’re so close to wrapping up the new book that I am going to put blinders on and spend one hundred percent of my time trying to complete it.

In the meantime, we are “repurposing” two of our prior blogs for August. This blog was published in 2017 as The Sussex Plan and a Very Brave Woman (click here to read the original blog). Notice the change in title? I received an e-mail from a relative of Evelyn Clopet pointing out her contributions to the Sussex Plan, its mission, and her ultimate sacrifice. I promised Caroline that I would reprint the 2017 blog but on an expanded basis to include Evelyn. So, here it is.


Remember the “rabbit hole” I talked about in a past blog post? (click here to read the blog, Curious George Flees the Nazis) Well, I went down the rabbit hole for a week and popped back up with the relatively forgotten story of The Sussex Plan and its 120 brave agents. What initially grabbed my attention was the address in Paris of an established safe house used to shelter more than forty Sussex agents. The former cafe will be one of the stops in our third and final volume of Where Did They Put the Gestapo Headquarters? A Walking Tour of Nazi-Occupied Paris (1940−1944) Deportations & Liberation.

The stories, memories, and memorabilia of The Sussex Plan and its agents are kept alive by Dominique Soulier and the MM Park France Museum (twelve miles north of Strasbourg France). M. Soulier is the son of Georges Soulier, a former Sussex Plan agent. More on this later. Click here to visit the museum’s web-site. Read More The Sussex Plan and Three Very Brave Women

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Stew and Sandy’s Summer Vacation in Paris

How many of you remember as a kid attending the home slide shows your parents put on for family, friends, and neighbors? If you’re a baby boomer like us, you’ll likely recall your father pulling the screen out of the front hall closet, extending the legs, and then unrolling the white screen to attach to the hook on the vertical arm. Then he unboxes the slide projector, places it on one of those small fold-up tables, and plugs it in. Next comes the multiple box trays with slides that have been carefully inserted into their slots in an order in which father wants to narrate. (The carousel slide tray was the next generation of new technology.) A test drive had to be performed before the guests arrive. The projector is turned on and carefully calibrated to ensure it is at the proper distance from the screen and in focus.

The 1950s family slide show. Photo by anonymous (date unknown).
The 1950s family slide show. Photo by anonymous (date unknown).

So, the screen show is all set, Mom has made the hors-d’œuvres (we call them appetizers since it’s easier to spell), and Dad has set up the bar. Now all that is needed are the guests. At the appointed hour, everyone arrives. After the chit-chat, Dad calls everyone to the living room. Everybody settles back, begins to knock down their third martini or whiskey sour, and lights up their favorite smoke. (Remember, back then, everyone smoked.) Dad turns on the projector with its familiar fan sound and exhaust fumes that compete with the smoke from the cigarettes and pipes. The first slide goes up on the screen and through the haze of smoke, the title of the evening’s entertainment is displayed:

Stew and Sandy’s Summer Vacation in Paris

So, kids, fill up your bowl with popcorn, settle into your favorite recliner, make sure your glass is full, and get ready for your slide show.

An ancient slide projector. Photo by anonymous (date unknown). RG-VC/iStockphoto.
An ancient slide projector. Photo by anonymous (date unknown). RG-VC/iStockphoto.

Did You Know?

Did you know that the last living World War II Medal of Honor recipient died on 29 June 2022? Hershel “Woody” Williams (1923−2022) was ninety-eight when he passed away at the VA Medical Center in Huntington, West Virginia. (The hospital was named for him.) Woody joined the Marines in 1943 and became a demolition operator. During the Battle of Iwo Jima, he volunteered to clear an area riddled by Japanese machine gun fire that hindered the advancement of troops. Read More Stew and Sandy’s Summer Vacation in Paris