In the evening, in the garden, when Caen was burning and bombing, the German flak would try to shoot down the planes. Sometimes you'd see a plane, black smoke, a parachute jumping out and then the Resistance would try to recover it. And then one evening, I have this unforgettable memory, the plane was hit, the parachute opened and it caught fire. The next day, the grown-ups told us that they had found the dislocated body, half buried in a field. And those are terrible memories.

We walked 100km. We set off from Fontenay towards Rocquencourt. We crossed the whole of Fontenay and there was no one left, everyone had gone.

We were really on our own, wandering the roads.

Where were we going? We didn't know. We were running away, fleeing the front.

At Saint Martin des Landes, we were liberated on 13 August by General Leclerc's army.

A very sad thing happened there too: there was a German and a Frenchman, both young men. They must have shot each other at close range and their feet were touching. To get through, I had to step over their bodies.

My mother was so brave and courageous, we weren't sad, we turned that into a will to win, but the best victory is against ignorance.

I think it's good to bear witness. I'm absolutely in favour of commemorating.

I'd like to say that we shouldn't wage war because the people who decide to wage war don't do it. They make it happen by proxy, they make the poor fight against each other and they keep score afterwards. 

You have to resist, of course, but you mustn't wage war.