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I have a memory of D-day to share that will not appear in any official record or on any television documentary. It is not about a battle, or any brush with death. It's about an act of heroism that occurred not on the battlefield, but on a old country road - an act not of a soldier, but of a very pretty girl.

I was a young man at the time, a teenager really, and while I was proud to be part of the liberation of France, I can still remember that most of my mind was on my beloved Clair and on returning to begin the life together we'd wanted so badly. But my other memory, even stronger than my memory of the woman I would return to marry, so strong in fact that it is still perfumed with the air on that day, is of a young local girl who sat all alone on a rock wall, sitting pretty in pigtails, wearing a broad smile, who waved to my troop from the roadside.

I remember that for some odd reason she wore very bright orange shoes, and no shirt.

I spoke more French than my pals, so I was pushed towards the girl as their spokesman.

I awkwardly asked her name, where she lived, and if she needed any help. I'm sure I also stared rather unbecomingly at her breasts. A lady's chest was not something we were used to seeing in those days. In fact, I'd yet to see my own dear Clair's bare legs, let alone the rest of her.

"No," she answered, with a happy twist of her hair. And then, smiling broadly, she asked if the men needed any help from her.

After a pause she clarified, "Directions?"

"Oh right", I answered. "Are we on the road to the city?" I went on, pretending not to know.

Seemingly disappointed, the girl slouched back, but smiled and nodded yes without looking at me or my fellows, and after a pause, asked if we were going to the war.

"Yes ma'am", I answered politely.

"You will fight bravely for me and for my family and for my village?"

"Yes."

"You may be killed?"

"Yes."

"You may never see your wife or girlfriend or family again?"

"Yes."

At that moment, I understood why the girl was wearing no top. I never asked her. I knew there was no reason to ask. I knew she was doing it for us, me, for all the soldiers who happened by. It was a kind of salute, the only thing a simple peasant girl could offer us.

We left then, and when I looked back I knew I was right. I saw it in the way she smiled at us and waved as we walked on.

I recently found a photo of a girl who looked just like her on Alеxаndеr Fеdоrоv's website, called Frоm Rυssіа Wіth Lоvе. Only this girl was wearing blue shoes, not orange as I remember. Or perhaps the girl's shoes were blue after all. I'm not so sure any more.

In fact, if I'm truly honest about the whole thing, the only thing I can say for sure is that not a day has gone by that I haven't tried to remember her.

See all 30 photos from this set here.

Or join Body in Mind here.

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