Memories

I thought, seeing as I was getting clearer images at last, I would start a new thread to document everything. The old one, "It's been a while...", will be deleted.

Now that I am opening the doors to the past, memories seem to be trickling through and puzzle pieces are sliding into place.

Some similarities between my current and past selves include:

• An apparent lapse in money management - While I haven't the advances on wages that she requested, to the point where a note was placed on her file to prevent further advances, I do seem to like spending!
• A stubbornness of not knowing quite when to quit - Until her last breath, she was sure of victory and refused to give up the hope of escaping, while I just don't know when to give up. I can't give up, when the going gets tough.
• Falling hard and fast - She courted the man who would be her husband for only five weeks, before accepting his proposal, while I seem incapable of taking things steady when I meet a guy I like [even if, most times, it's unreciprocated in this life]. After his death, she slowed down and became wary. After the last heartbreak, I stopped chasing after those I fancied. Of course, her excuse for all that was 'it was the war'!

Other things of note:

• A love of 1940s music that causes a desire to get up on my feet and dance, with or without a partner. The spirits seem all too happy to fill in, when a physical presence is absent.
• An undying love of France that lies under the surface, and a desire to return to Paris that harbours on more than a meagre day trip to the city when I was 7-8 [in this life].
• A deep connection to the Holocaust, though having no familial connections in this life.
• A sense that my past self died young [she was 22-23]
  
• An underlying love of fashion. While I can't stand some modern pieces, the ball gowns and evening dresses often capture my eye and imagination. And, vintage clothes! I can't get enough of vintage clothing, particularly that of the '30s-'40s.
• I can happily sit through French films and music, and sometimes find greater joy in them than English-speaking media.
• A sometimes tumultuous relationship with the father in each life.
• A near constant masculine presence asking me to dance, or wanting to protect me or simply accompany me. I call him Harry [who was a companion from the past-life, who was deeply in love with my past self].
• A pride for the Forces Françaises Libres and their supporters, as well as the Maquis and their supporters.
• A longing for rings that have never graced my finger in this life, and a desire to be in my husband's arms again [never married, as stated a moment ago, in this life].
• And, a desire to be reunited with Harry [the aforementioned companion], who seemed to suffer after my past self's demise.

While there's a lot there, it's not everything. It's simply everything that I can remember, while conducting this post. And, my intention with this thread is to document further discoveries down the line, as I had been doing with the old thread, but I will welcome comments from others! I just felt it better to separate the wheat from the chaff.

As stated, it was all from memory. Instead of having a word document, or a diary by the bed, I've been using threads in this forum to make notes. Everything else is what comes strongly through on a regular basis [such as 'Harry' at present].

It might help me to remember more, if I make notes upon waking of what I recall from dreams. Or, thoughts as they come in, such as the occasion the other day that's been mentioned in other threads [the PL husband's death]. It might help make a clearer picture for myself, if nothing else.

I’m on my sixth or seventh journal. I keep them strictly for past life memories and the journey to look back on. So useful to have them. They are the moleskine types that aren’t very big but great for jotting notes. Would highly recommend them. They are called moleskine cahiers and come in a pack of three, roughly A5 sizing.

I started May 2017 to record .. wish I had began in the very beginning but better later than never. Just start now. Start writing everything you know and try and recall dates you recalled things it helps me verify my memories having those precise dates and then seeing how it matches later research.

Also I can analyse how accurate I feel certain aspects of memories might be (on a scale of 1-5). Sometimes details can be interpreted wrong hence why I do that.

yvettebruneau said:

Other things of note:

• A love of 1940s music that causes a desire to get up on my feet and dance, with or without a partner. The spirits seem all too happy to fill in, when a physical presence is absent.

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I blast 40s music through my speaker when no one’s home. I have yet to find someone my age who has the same taste in music. We had a conversation about this earlier on my thread, I listened to songs by Glenn Miller (one of your preferences) today, absolutely loved it. Definitely a new favorite

I’ve been listening to his song called “moonlight serenade” on repeat all day.

'Moonlight Serenade' is one of my favourites, as well, although I also like 'American Patrol' and 'Pennsylvania 6-5000'. Honestly, I like all those that I've heard. They each seem to hold a piece of my past-life puzzle, or unlock a door that's been closed to me.

But, 'Moonlight Serenade' has always brought to me the strongest sense of nostalgia. As though there is some important romantic memory linked to it. Thing is, I don't think it's the husband [Etienne, whose name I've kept holding back, for some reason].


I think the relationship with Harry was not as one-sided, or platonic, as I was first led to believe. There are mannerly references throughout accounts to something deeper between them. Their paths continued to cross here and there, at important times. And, while my past-self did love Etienne, he was the first man to become properly infatuated with her [and vice-versa] and the adrenaline of a wartime romance with a gallant soldier was so exciting for the nineteen-year-old girl that she ran with it. But, with Harry, it was more of a soul connection, he was a "soul companion". It was more of a tempered relationship, it moved slower. She had matured, when Harry came into her life; she was almost twenty-two and recently widowed. But, there was Harry, the tall handsome young man that would go on to heal her wounds. They went dancing, they wined and dined, they talked through the night. He longed to protect her, to keep her from danger, even when it was out of his control. It wasn't a secret 'affair', either. While he hoped to have her join him on a mission, when he requested a female courier to assist with his workload in France, the organisation secretary was suspicious of their connection and he was sent another in her place. It rattled him even more, because he was helpless to defend her then. She sought him out, too, with glimpses in the prison and a brief moment on the transport train. She often bolstered his morale, in the prison and on the train. Their final meeting was a fleeting moment in the secrecy of shadows, while being held temporarily in Verdun. But, even when he longed for the end of a rope, Harry kept holding on to the hope of seeing her again. It was what he believed kept him going.

So, while she did love Etienne, the strongest connection was certainly with Harry.

Run to his arms, the moment he comes home to you...

While the song in question was released the year Harry passed, some eighteen years after my past self's execution, the line above seems to strike a chord. Because Etienne never came home. He did not stray, because she didn't 'dress up' and 'look pretty' for him. He was killed in action, before he could secure leave to come see their new daughter.

Run to his arms...

She longed to see him, her heart ached for him. Shortly after their wedding, he was called back to action. He later secured a week's leave up in Liverpool. So, in a rush of excitement at being reunited, she packed a case and got the next train up to join him. For a second honeymoon. It was on this second honeymoon, this fleeting reunion, that they conceived their daughter.

The moment he comes home to you...

War is a cruel beast. War brought them together. War tore them asunder. War ripped a young family to shreds, leaving a new mother a widow and a young daughter an orphan.

I had been wondering why photos of Harry, taken in the two years before his demise, seemed so familiar and striking to me. I knew his face, even with its careworn expression, as it was in those photos. But, my past self had been gone from 'their' life for some 16-18 years, so there was no way I could know how Harry had looked in those times. Was there?

Today, I received the answer. This morning, I unlocked another life-between memory. A spiritual, nonphysical awareness from the past. Not my past, but Harry's. It was a third-person perspective from a raised angle, as though I was there to bear witness in a discarnate form. Or, viewing it through a security camera lens. Trying to think back on it presently, to document it, is proving somewhat difficult. It was the night his life ended.

In the vision, I saw the hotel room. It was warmly lit, filled with the classic '60s décor, and the air had a humidity to it. There was Harry. He was terribly ill. Clutching at his chest. But, I wasn't upset. I was there to greet him in the afterlife. That was my purpose that night. I had not followed him throughout his life, from the moment I had passed. I had spent some time with Etienne, in the life-between, and we had watched over our daughter for a while. But, in that moment, Harry needed me and I was able to go to him.

But, I don't think Harry's presently persistent nature is a sign of my incoming demise. Well, I hope not, at least!
Honestly, I'd rather have Etienne as my harbinger of death, as I sense he had been in the previous life.
No offence, of course, to Harry.

It’s cool how you’ve been able to remember some memories from the ‘life-between’. Did the vision come to you out of the blue?

I wouldn't say it was a spontaneous discovery, no.

When I first saw the photos of Harry as he was in 1961 [two years before he passed] and 1963, I was struck with how familiar he looked. In spite of his matured appearance. While his eyes were still strikingly similar and sharp, his face [as with everyone's] had changed since we were last together in the 1940s. I had spent a couple of days trying to figure out why. Had I been wrong again, but still on the right path? Had I been Harry's wife and not a lost war-time love of his? No, because Harry and his wife separated in 1956. Had I been someone else from Harry's life, who had been with him in the last few years? No, because I had the memories of the war and then nothing. Except a reunion with Harry. Matured, worn-down Harry.

Then, I was flicking through his biography, toward the end, and I came upon the excerpt regarding his passing. Immediately, I was transported to that hotel room, and I felt the balminess of the air. I knew it to be a memory and not mere imagination, because other parts of the book had stimulated nothing. Well, aside from the moments we were together. And, I got an emotional response to the moment he lost control of his emotions when confronted by two SS officers during his escape. But, nothing else had proven to be visual stimuli. Only Harry's end. It was fleeting, also.

And, I felt as though I was not the only discarnate being there. Leonard, Harry's father [he died in 1960], was there as well.

On a side note, I got a brief moment today, when I believed Etienne replaced Harry as my discarnate companion. So, perhaps, he is not in this world presently, as I first thought, but he has been 'elsewhere'. Our daughter is, as far as I'm currently aware, still alive. Perhaps, as he missed seeing her in life, he's been with her. Watching her, guarding her.

yvettebruneau said:

I wouldn't say it was a spontaneous discovery, no.

When I first saw the photos of Harry as he was in 1961 [two years before he passed] and 1963, I was struck with how familiar he looked. In spite of his matured appearance. While his eyes were still strikingly similar and sharp, his face [as with everyone's] had changed since we were last together in the 1940s. I had spent a couple of days trying to figure out why. Had I been wrong again, but still on the right path? Had I been Harry's wife and not a lost war-time love of his? No, because Harry and his wife separated in 1956. Had I been someone else from Harry's life, who had been with him in the last few years? No, because I had the memories of the war and then nothing. Except a reunion with Harry. Matured, worn-down Harry.

Then, I was flicking through his biography, toward the end, and I came upon the excerpt regarding his passing. Immediately, I was transported to that hotel room, and I felt the balminess of the air. I knew it to be a memory and not mere imagination, because other parts of the book had stimulated nothing. Well, aside from the moments we were together. And, I got an emotional response to the moment he lost control of his emotions when confronted by two SS officers during his escape. But, nothing else had proven to be visual stimuli. Only Harry's end. It was fleeting, also.

And, I felt as though I was not the only discarnate being there. Leonard, Harry's father [he died in 1960], was there as well.

-----
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On a side note, I got a brief moment today, when I believed Etienne replaced Harry as my discarnate companion. So, perhaps, he is not in this world presently, as I first thought, but he has been 'elsewhere'. Our daughter is, as far as I'm currently aware, still alive. Perhaps, as he missed seeing her in life, he's been with her. Watching her, guarding her.

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That would make sense, that Etienne would be watching over your daughter.

I thought that even if people from our past lives (friends, family members, etc..) have reincarnated, that they could still watch over us. Because isn’t it just the souls experiences moving on to the next person? Not necessarily that the actual person (or spirit) is gone.
Because in Ben’s case he has actually seen/ talked (telepathically) to his PL self.

I have always believed that our physical incarnate existence, that being our bodies [what some would call vessels] are the impermanent component. The soul is boundless. It is the part that goes on, while the physical vessel putrefies. The soul passes through time, gathering experiences and traits throughout its journey. And, perhaps, even the voices of our past selves. In that sense, while the past-self 'voice' might still exist within the soul, their spirit is locked within the current vessel. That might explain how Ben has 'spoken' with his past self, with their voice still contained within. Sort of like a living time-capsule. I will admit that I have heard my past self talking, but not really to me. It's been her companions, who have been the most vocal. But, now that I'm on the right path, she might open herself up a little more.

To be honest, it gets a little too complicated when we start discussing souls and spirits. Reincarnation is an immense topic to begin with, without throwing in the spiritual side for good measure!

yvettebruneau said:

Reincarnation is an immense topic to begin with, without throwing in the spiritual side for good measure!

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That, exactly, is the reason why I prefer not to think about stuff like parallel lives, split souls and these topics which are not wanted here anyway (like animals, aliens...). Reincarnation alone, having had other lives, is a lot to deal with already.

I've been away for a week or so, but it's felt longer than that. I don't know why I've taken a break from the forum, other than there's been little for me to say here. And, I don't know why it felt like longer than a week, since I was last here.

Anyway...

The other night, I was having a bit of a rough time of it and something of an insomniac episode. But, I distinctly remember moments where I felt as though I was dreaming, but I wasn't. I was awake and conscious of the fact. Hallucinations,then? Visions? All I remember now was that they weren't pleasant images. It was of a dark, claustrophobic space that was damp and cold. The bunk in a concentration camp, or the train that transported the prisoners? Harry wasn't there, so it can't have been the train. Ravensbruck, perhaps.

All I know, for certain, was that it only added to my restlessness. It didn't help that I had to be up early for work the following morning.

Next year will mark 30 years of this life [and, somewhat unrelatedly, 74 since my previous one ended, in which I never saw my 30th year].

To mark such an occasion, many would go and drink themselves silly, or party the night away in some exotic location. Myself, I was going to go to Toronto for a convention linked with my favourite TV show, but the money just wasn't coming in [or staying, when it did]. So, I've lowered my expectations [and my budget] and I will instead aim to go to Seville, Spain. Not for some big booze-trip or party, that's just not my scene! Nor is it Seville's...

The reason I have chosen Seville, as opposed to Toronto or another convention, is because Harry is buried there. In a forgotten English/Catholic cemetery to the north of the city, he lies in peaceful and eternal rest. Most grave markers have been vandalised in some description, and most of the grass is overgrown. But, Harry's grave lays mostly undisturbed. Perhaps, his title of Major deters the would-be vandals, or the large tiled mural over his body's eternal resting place makes his look more imposing to vandals than the simple markers. Something has deterred the scum from disturbing him.

But, ever since learning of his burial place, I have been quietly drawn to visit it. To visit him. Although, I sense him with me, I want to go see where his physical self rests eternally. I would go see Etienne, but there is no determined resting place for him. I would assume the El Alamein War Cemetery, in Alexandria, in which case he would be one of the 815 still unidentified that were laid to rest there. My past self does not have a determined grave, either. Only Harry does.

The way I'm drawn more to Harry than Etienne has brought up the alternative theory that I was his wife, Marie-Louise, but I remember nothing of their short turbulent marriage or her life prior/after Harry. I also would not have experienced that sense of familiarity when seeing Etienne's face, in a picture, in this life. Marie-Louise never met Etienne. All this talk of him is now making my heart ache for him again...

I think that’ll be a good thing, you visiting his grave. I hope you have a great trip if and when you go.

Thanks, Kenz! Fingers are crossed.

This evening, I've once again been questioning if I have the right person from Harry's life as my past self. Despite having no memories that would establish me as his wife, and not Etienne's, I keep getting niggling doubts. Like, this evening, I've had quite the... *ahem* 'intimate' presence around me. Harry and my past self were never that intimate, though a gentleman never kisses and tells, so... maybe. But, then, there's also Etienne, the husband I had a daughter with. There had to be some intimacy, for there to be a child.

And, I also came up with an idea of why I might not have recognised his presence around until now; he knew very little English. If he's been trying to reach out in a more verbal manner, I wouldn't have known [I don't speak fluent French in this life, though I have a growing grasp of it]! So, perhaps, that's why he turned on the charms this evening. He was getting tired of trying to say 'I'm here', so he used the only other connection we had. Well, if that's the case, then... Crasseux. Etienne! Crasseux!

I've been away a while, allowing visions and sensations to come and go at will with little outside influence. The most I've gotten is flashes of imagery. Soldiers, maybe resistance fighters. Harry's face now and then. His presence seems to have dropped away, or I've simply grown accustomed to him and no longer become wholly aware of him. He's simply a familiar, lurking at the shoulder. No, lurking sounds... cruel, somewhat. Like he's unwanted. Believe me, he's quite welcome.

Just prior to Christmas, I started a digital portrait of Harry, based on a particular photograph I found of him. I was compelled to draw him. The photograph is tiny, with little sharp detail available for replication with a digital brush. Or, even, a physical brush. But, the more the portrait comes along, the stronger my... I don't know the word I'm looking for here. The more the portrait comes along, the more I feel that deep familiarity. The eyes, with their increasing detail, seem to speak to me. They hold me, just as they do when I look at a photograph of him. More than my artworks usually do. There's something about Harry that is almost unspeakable. Unbreakable. Undeniable. It's actually difficult to put across in words.

A few years ago, the National Archives published the manual that my former self would have been taught during her initial training course. As you can probably guess, I've since purchased it. I read through the Security Talk, and I got... for want of a better phrase, the chills. The whole book, a little smaller than an A5 notebook, gives me the chills. As I read it, my mind seems to draw back to the time my former self was taught its contents. It's making it difficult to read it right now.

I was listening to a Spotify-created mix, based on my listening habits, and Jimmy Durante's version of 'When I Lost You' came up. I got the familiar sting of tears, but I held them back. Now, I'm just sad. I miss Etienne. His warmth, his charm, his smile, his embrace...

He comes to me now and then. Today seems to be one of those days. My finger was itching for the rings that are, in this life, missing. So, I put on two that I have lying around.

These last couple of days, "Jakob" has been coming back. The young Gypsy man from my early regressions.

In this life, I do love to travel. I have an almost unquenchable wanderlust, wanting to always be on the road or moving. And, while I believe I had a life as a 'running gun' in the Old West [male] that might be the root of this wanderlust, I also think I might have had a life as a Gypsy bride. I keep getting visions of beautiful colours and the old bowtop/Vardo caravans pulled by two lovely cobs.

In terms of where I feel this life sits in my soul's timeline, I get the sense it's somewhere between the Running Gun and WWII.

Willamette...

Tuesday, I was at work, when this word came to mind out of nowhere. I've never researched Willamette for anything, I have no memory of it coming up before. It might have, in passing, in maybe a TV show or something. But, I had no reason to recall it at that moment in my life. I was at work. I was processing the store's orders. There was no reason.

Willamette. It stuck with me all day. Just Willamette.

Maybe, it is a connection to the Old West past life that I am adamant is attached to my soul. Whether I was born there, married there, or I died there... Something happened in Willamette that was significant enough for me to remember it all this time later.

Looking through photos attached to my WWII past-life, I find myself always caught by Harry's eyes. It doesn't matter which photograph it is, it's always those eyes. Piercing yet kind. And, I know I've looked in them before, in person. I perceive, even through the screen and the photo, the softness he once held for my former self.

Then, I catch myself starting to miss him. And, I start to miss Etienne also. Tania, and even Forest (who I met only fleetingly). Jacques. Them all.

I long to reunite with them all. I long to laugh and regale with them all, I ache to dance with Harry or in Etienne's embrace...

Someday, the answer comes reassuringly. Harry, always there at my shoulder. Someday, he tells me.

Someday...

Yvette,

I was reading through your thread and so many thing resonated with me that you wrote and thought these might help.

yvettebruneau said:

Looking through photos attached to my WWII past-life, I find myself always caught by Harry's eyes. It doesn't matter which photograph it is, it's always those eyes. Piercing yet kind. And, I know I've looked in them before, in person. I perceive, even through the screen and the photo, the softness he once held for my former self.

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I have this too. I have like a WWII folder that always brings me some peace and I find myself sometimes lost in remembering how happy we were or how sad, or other such things. I remember how things get in person too. Do you get such times too?

Then, I catch myself starting to miss him. And, I start to miss Etienne also. Tania, and even Forest (who I met only fleetingly). Jacques. Them all.

I long to reunite with them all. I long to laugh and regale with them all, I ache to dance with Harry or in Etienne's embrace...

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I long to reunite sometimes too. Sometimes I deliberately go to bed and sleep early so that I can perhaps catch a visit from my loved ones I lost physically back then. I miss them all when I am here in the physical.

Do you get that?

Someday, the answer comes reassuringly. Harry, always there at my shoulder. Someday, he tells me.

Someday...

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Harry seems like a wonderful gentleman. Forgive me, but was he killed in action somewhere? You mentioned El Alamein..

War is a cruel beast. War brought them together. War tore them asunder. War ripped a young family to shreds, leaving a new mother a widow and a young daughter an orphan.

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War and Hitler’s Anti Semitism made our little family broken too. It ripped us apart and my daughter only knew of her father as a baby. The rest of the time she spent it in protection away from us. She was an orphan of war in late November 1942.

It was of a dark, claustrophobic space that was damp and cold. The bunk in a concentration camp, or the train that transported the prisoners? Harry wasn't there, so it can't have been the train. Ravensbruck, perhaps.

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I have some memories of laying in a bed in the little ‘house’ with my two foster children in the dark in Riga Ghetto. It was dark and very cold. Let me know if you want to know more.

Eva x

Eva1942 said:

Yvette,

I was reading through your thread and so many thing resonated with me that you wrote and thought these might help.



I have this too. I have like a WWII folder that always brings me some peace and I find myself sometimes lost in remembering how happy we were or how sad, or other such things. I remember how things get in person too. Do you get such times too?



I long to reunite sometimes too. Sometimes I deliberately go to bed and sleep early so that I can perhaps catch a visit from my loved ones I lost physically back then. I miss them all when I am here in the physical.

Do you get that?



Harry seems like a wonderful gentleman. Forgive me, but was he killed in action somewhere? You mentioned El Alamein..



War and Hitler’s Anti Semitism made our little family broken too. It ripped us apart and my daughter only knew of her father as a baby. The rest of the time she spent it in protection away from us. She was an orphan of war in late November 1942.



I have some memories of laying in a bed in the little ‘house’ with my two foster children in the dark in Riga Ghetto. It was dark and very cold. Let me know if you want to know more.

Eva x

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First point, I do sometimes. For me, it comes with music. Even songs that weren't released in my past life, but contain lyrics that resonate with those memories. Or, 1940s' fashion/antiques. The photos of the SOE, in the extensive library of books that have been released (most have the same stories, from different POVs, but there's a whole album of photos spread amongst them).

Secondly, no, I don't get that. But, I do get moments where I feel like the gang is back together. Flashes of conversations we can't have had, but they're somehow occurring subconsciously, if that makes sense. I feel a spiritual company that I want to have conversations with. I can listen to audio recordings, and I feel like I'm regaling stories with the gang. There's one from a Jacques that Harry worked with in his circuit, who recounted their meeting and their escape over the Pyrenees. To hear how Harry pretty much doomed them once they got to Spain, how they apprehended the guide who abandoned them on the Pyrenees the first time, how Harry brazenly approached the man who was donating the money for their crossing and told him everything upfront; I fell about laughing, because it was like "that's just like him" and "that's the Harry I knew".

Harry was a dear friend, even though there's still that affinity there. One of my guides feels very much like his spirit, friendly and protective. The man who was killed in action, in El Alamein, was my past self's beloved husband. Etienne was an officer in the French Foreign Legion, and they [I keep trying to remove myself from it, as I feel it helps for the moment, until I'm ready]… they were married after only 5 weeks of courtship. And, shortly after, he went back to action. Several months later, he was given another week's leave, and they had a 'second honeymoon'. It was then that they conceived their daughter. Etienne was away fighting, when she was born, but he could not wait to meet her. When she was four months old... he was killed in action, in El Alamein. I don't like recalling that; my hands were trembling writing that out. As for Harry, he lived another eighteen years after my past self was executed, before succumbing to his second heart attack in three years. The aftermath of the war was not kind to him.

yvettebruneau said:

The photos of the SOE, in the extensive library of books that have been released (most have the same stories, from different POVs, but there's a whole album of photos spread amongst them).

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Have you read these books on SOE?

- ‘SOE Manual: How to be a agent in Occupied Europe by SOE

- ‘SOE: An Outline History of the Special Operations Executive 1940-46 by M. R. D. Foot’

- ‘Spymistress’ by William Stevenson (about Vera Lynn)

Secondly, no, I don't get that. But, I do get moments where I feel like the gang is back together. Flashes of conversations we can't have had, but they're somehow occurring subconsciously, if that makes sense. I feel a spiritual company that I want to have conversations with. I can listen to audio recordings, and I feel like I'm regaling stories with the gang. There's one from a Jacques that Harry worked with in his circuit, who recounted their meeting and their escape over the Pyrenees. To hear how Harry pretty much doomed them once they got to Spain, how they apprehended the guide who abandoned them on the Pyrenees the first time, how Harry brazenly approached the man who was donating the money for their crossing and told him everything upfront; I fell about laughing, because it was like "that's just like him" and "that's the Harry I knew".

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It sounds like you have fond memories.

If you want to have conversations with your Spiritual company then do! I always get such wisdom and love from my company

Harry was a dear friend, even though there's still that affinity there. One of my guides feels very much like his spirit, friendly and protective. The man who was killed in action, in El Alamein, was my past self's beloved husband. Etienne was an officer in the French Foreign Legion, and they [I keep trying to remove myself from it, as I feel it helps for the moment, until I'm ready]… they were married after only 5 weeks of courtship. And, shortly after, he went back to action. Several months later, he was given another week's leave, and they had a 'second honeymoon'. It was then that they conceived their daughter. Etienne was away fighting, when she was born, but he could not wait to meet her. When she was four months old... he was killed in action, in El Alamein. I don't like recalling that; my hands were trembling writing that out. As for Harry, he lived another eighteen years after my past self was executed, before succumbing to his second heart attack in three years. The aftermath of the war was not kind to him.

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One - it sounds like Harry could be one of your guides. They can be anyone! I have a guide (a he ) who gets VERY protective at times. I love that with him. Sometimes I look to him for confidence to get through something

Two - I think it takes great courage to write something out that we fear. I am very proud and honoured that you wrote that for me. I have memories like that too, that I find too painful to write about or discuss, but I take the leaps of faith and write or talk about them. I allow myself to cry, get angry, or if I get too worked up and let the fear get the better of me, I get up, walk away for a moment and then I come back and finish. More often than not, I end up feeling very much liberated and proud of myself. I think for writing that, you should feel very proud of yourself because I know from my own experiences how hard it is to do.

Three - I know how it feels to have someone killed. The love of my life, while I almost lost him to the Czechs ( interesting fact for you the Czech SOE agents had not been in the Protektorate for years leading up to the attack) I lost him to our own people the Germans. He too, was just a mere few weeks away from meeting to his fourth daughter. It took me a very long time to get the courage to talk about it so I commend you.

Eva x

Eva1942 said:

Have you read these books on SOE?

- ‘SOE Manual: How to be a agent in Occupied Europe by SOE

- ‘SOE: An Outline History of the Special Operations Executive 1940-46 by M. R. D. Foot’

- ‘Spymistress’ by William Stevenson (about Vera Lynn)




It sounds like you have fond memories.

If you want to have conversations with your Spiritual company then do! I always get such wisdom and love from my company



One - it sounds like Harry could be one of your guides. They can be anyone! I have a guide (a he ) who gets VERY protective at times. I love that with him. Sometimes I look to him for confidence to get through something

Two - I think it takes great courage to write something out that we fear. I am very proud and honoured that you wrote that for me. I have memories like that too, that I find too painful to write about or discuss, but I take the leaps of faith and write or talk about them. I allow myself to cry, get angry, or if I get too worked up and let the fear get the better of me, I get up, walk away for a moment and then I come back and finish. More often than not, I end up feeling very much liberated and proud of myself. I think for writing that, you should feel very proud of yourself because I know from my own experiences how hard it is to do.

Three - I know how it feels to have someone killed. The love of my life, while I almost lost him to the Czechs ( interesting fact for you the Czech SOE agents had not been in the Protektorate for years leading up to the attack) I lost him to our own people the Germans. He too, was just a mere few weeks away from meeting to his fourth daughter. It took me a very long time to get the courage to talk about it so I commend you.

Eva x

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I have a lot of the books, but I haven't really read any of them, yet. I've flicked through some of the pages of a few of them.

I do have the Manual and tried reading it, but it was too surreal a feeling and I had to stop. I don't think I have the one by M.R.D. Foot, but I believe I have one about Vera Atkins [I assume that's who you meant, although it'd be an awesome alternate history if Vera Lynn was a spymistress as well as beautiful songstress ].

Of course, a fair amount of the information in the books will have to be taken with a grain of salt, as some will have been fabricated to fill the pages and tantalise the story somewhat. The book on Harry, Spirit of Resistance by Nigel Perrin, is an interesting read from what I've skimmed through so far. The one minor issue I have with Perrin's is, while I do believe Harry harboured feelings for my past-self [might be why he's so protective as a spirit], I don't know that it was deep enough for him to note how 'she looked so pretty, despite her shabby clothes and her lack of make-up' on the transport train into Germany. While it was being bombarded with cannon fire from the RAF. And, as three men in his group were suffering seizures. And, as my past self and two members of her group were trying to bring water to the men. What a time to recognise her beauty, Harry, really, what a gent... And, if the author is to be believed, that quote came from Harry's unpublished memoir.

I mean, I read that back to myself, and I get the feeling that Harry is embarrassed by it. I honestly have no idea why...

yvettebruneau said:

I have a lot of the books, but I haven't really read any of them, yet. I've flicked through some of the pages of a few of them.

Click to expand...

I have a lot of the books on Operation Anthropoid too. Some good, some bad.

I do have the Manual and tried reading it, but it was too surreal a feeling and I had to stop. I don't think I have the one by M.D.R. Foot, but I believe I have one about Vera Atkins [I assume that's who you meant, although it'd be an awesome alternate history if Vera Lynn was a spymistress as well as beautiful songstress ].

Click to expand...

It must be a pretty impressive book. The manual that is.

Ahaha *facepalm* Yes I meant Vera Atkins. Gosh, how did I get that so wrong . It’s been a long day.. If ever a book exists about Vera Lynn being a spy mistress, is be all over it like a bee to a honeycomb!

Of course, a fair amount of the information in the books will have to be taken with a grain of salt, as some will have been fabricated to fill the pages and tantalise the story somewhat. The book on Harry, Spirit of Resistance by Nigel Perrin, is an interesting read from what I've skimmed through so far. The one minor issue I have with Perrin's is, while I do believe Harry harboured feelings for my past-self [might be why he's so protective as a spirit], I don't know that it was deep enough for him to note how 'she looked so pretty, despite her shabby clothes and her lack of make-up' on the transport train into Germany. While it was being bombarded with cannon fire from the RAF. And, as three men in his group were suffering seizures. And, as my past self and two members of her group were trying to bring water to the men. What a time to recognise her beauty, Harry, really, what a gent... And, if the author is to be believed, that quote came from Harry's unpublished memoir.

I mean, I read that back to myself, and I get the feeling that Harry is embarrassed by it. I honestly have no idea why...

Click to expand...

Reminds me of the novel ‘HHhH by Laurence Binet supposibly written from the Jan and Josef’s view. The first half of the book is about his (the author’s) Slovakian girlfriend.. It was so bad, I ended up laughing my entire way through it

Harry has an unpublished memoir? That sounds neat if he could allow you to get it published! Perhaps he is embarrassed because it’s his inner deep emotions?

Eva x

Eva1942 said:

I have a lot of the books on Operation Anthropoid too. Some good, some bad.



It must be a pretty impressive book. The manual that is.

Ahaha *facepalm* Yes I meant Vera Atkins. Gosh, how did I get that so wrong. It’s been a long day.. If ever a book exists about Vera Lynn being a spy mistress, is be all over it like a bee to a honeycomb!



Reminds me of the novel ‘HHhH by Laurence Binet supposibly written from the Jan and Josef’s view. The first half of the book is about his (the author’s) Slovakian girlfriend.. It was so bad, I ended up laughing my entire way through it

Harry has an unpublished memoir? That sounds neat if he could allow you to get it published! Perhaps he is embarrassed because it’s his inner deep emotions?

Eva x

Click to expand...

Actually, the manual is presented as a small hardback book, one you could carry discretely with you. For reference. I love that little detail, like I can just slip it in a jacket pocket and pull it out as necessary. "How do I go about doing this procedure again? Ah, yes, of course!" Not the best for an agent of sabotage and subterfuge.

I suppose most of the SOE agents who survived the war wrote down their memories of events, or had them recorded in interviews (like Harry's associate, Jacques - not the same Jacques that my past self knew only briefly before capture). Forest Yeo-Thomas, perhaps one of the most renowned male SOE agents (known as the White Rabbit by the Resistance), has had his memoir published as a book. Nigel Perrin supposedly used Harry's unpublished account for a fair amount of Spirit of Resistance. There's another quoted extract from Harry's memoir, after his escape from Buchenwald, where he's almost discovered by two SS guards on a road. He convinces them to remove their uniforms, as there's an American unit up ahead, and as they're undressing these postcards fall from one man's pocket. The subject matter of these postcards is... 'sadistic dirt...one would expect to find amongst their type of men'. One of the images was of twelve women being forced to jump through snow, with one resembling my former self. I believe I've written briefly about it somewhere, it might be this thread or the old one I deleted for irrelevancy. But, Harry grabbed one of these men's belts and started whipping them ruthlessly with the buckle to the point of drawing blood. He, figuratively, saw red and lost control. He admits it in the memoir, according to Perrin. Perrin does state after quoting Harry that there is no official record of this incident, it is only Harry who mentions it in his own writing. And that, by Harry's own admission (no reference to source on this part), he had not eaten in three days (or even properly for over six months), was under immense stress, and had driven himself near-crazy with the idea of seeing my former self again. The war, and what happened to him throughout, broke Harry. It broke my heart reading that extract. Before the events of F Section's plans in France, Harry had been something of a dreamer, a happy-go-lucky fellow. He had his moments, like when he seemed to lose himself after a girl rejected him for someone of her superior social class (he was found wandering the streets, with no memory of who he was or where he was from - after a break-up). So, while it has it's fun moments of ill-timed admiration, there are points of sorrow and empathy. And shock. I didn't know Harry to have an explosive temper, but that was before his incarceration and torment in Buchenwald.

While it would be somewhat wonderful to read Harry's words for myself, rather than rely on Perrin's references, a part of me doesn't want to have that opportunity. I kind of want to remember Harry as I knew him in that life, despite having Spirit of Resistance (which obviously continues on from the end of the war). And, he still has family (he was married for a brief time after the war and had two children, and possibly nieces or nephews) who are - or were very recently - alive. They might not want their relative's memoirs published in full. For whatever reason. Perrin, perhaps, had strict guidelines to stick to, in order to tell Harry's story. Like some details, such as Harry's treatment in Buchenwald, might have been brushed over. Reading Yeo-Thomas' published memoirs, you realise that Harry came within mere minutes of execution. It's daunting to read that about someone you knew and cared about (I have come to care for Harry again, in this life). Spirit of Resistance just glances over the risk to Harry's life as though it was nothing because he did actually escape. There's no sense of the peril.

I'm sorry if I don't have anything interesting to say in your publication. I can only say that I enjoy reading your memoirs.

I learned things I had no idea about, really.