Josette Duval May 2026

Josette survived because the woman next to her—a baker’s wife named Clémence—fell on top of her as the bullets flew. Clémence’s body took the final two rounds meant for Josette. Covered in blood and dirt, Josette lay motionless for six hours under a pile of the dead until nightfall. She crawled out, crawled two miles through mud and shattered hedgerows, and collapsed at the door of a farm belonging to a family she had once helped deliver a breech birth. The war ended, but Josette’s did not. She returned to a village that was half rubble and half memory. Her mother had died of a stroke after learning of her husband’s death. Henri, her sweetheart, had been killed at Monte Cassino in Italy. The Jewish infant she had hidden was reclaimed by a surviving aunt. Josette was left with a shattered eardrum, a limp from a bullet fragment that surgeons could not remove, and a reputation.

By 1939, she was an apprentice to the village’s aging sage-femme (midwife). She had a sweetheart, a carpenter’s apprentice named Henri Leclerc, who played the accordion off-key but made her laugh until her ribs ached. The war, when it came, was at first a distant thunder. Then, in 1940, the thunder arrived in boots. The German army requisitioned the Duval family’s home, forcing them into two rooms above the florist shop. Josette’s father, a man of quiet resistance, was arrested in 1942 for distributing underground newspapers. He died in a camp in 1944, two months before the liberation. josette duval

Simone stayed for a month. She did not write the story she intended. Instead, she wrote a long-form essay titled The Midwife of Sainte-Mère , which won the Prix Albert Londres. In it, she described Josette not as a hero or a martyr, but as a repairer . “She does not speak of the ditch. She speaks of the infant who took her first breath in a root cellar while mortars fell. She does not weep for the 27. She plants roses for them. Josette Duval has not forgiven the world. She has simply refused to let it have the last word.” That essay changed things. Letters arrived from other survivors—from Ravensbrück, from Oradour-sur-Glane, from the killing fields of the East. Josette began a correspondence. She never sought therapy; she sought company . In 1962, she founded a small network called Les Sœurs du Silence Brisé (The Sisters of Broken Silence), a weekly gathering of women survivors who met to knit, drink calvados, and, only if they wished, speak. Josette Duval died peacefully in her sleep on March 17, 2003, at the age of 78. Her funeral was attended by over a thousand people—including the Mayor of Sainte-Mère-Église, a representative from the German embassy (to whom the village priest had to explain that Josette had requested “no flags, no uniforms, just flowers”), and five women in their seventies who each claimed that Josette had saved their lives, either as infants or as refugees. Josette survived because the woman next to her—a