A heavy summer rain had turned the roads muddy. On the slick, muddy road, a convoy of German soldiers sped along, their wheels flinging up more mud as they rolled over the gravel.
The German soldiers in the convoy wore camouflage ponchos and were mostly armed with automatic weapons—MP40s, and even their standard rifles were G43s. Judging by their equipment, this was clearly an elite unit. Unlike regular troops, their faces were painted with camouflage.
Sitting in the front passenger seat, Pierre occasionally glanced at the surrounding farmland.
Lot Valley—this area used to be covered in vineyards, with rivers edged by cliffs, dotted with beautiful houses and castles along both banks.
But the war had destroyed the vineyards—large swathes were converted to farmland for growing potatoes, pumpkins, and other food crops to make bread.
If not for the war, this place would still be full of vineyards and wineries.
As Pierre mused on this, he glanced into the distance. Their destination was just ahead.
"We’re almost there..."
As soon as he returned to France, Pierre immediately began implementing his "Escape from Versailles" plan.
To carry out this plan, he needed to organize a commando team to enter Lot, which was still under German control.
The team didn’t need to be large—just over a hundred people would suffice.
Due to insufficient manpower, there were gaps all over the German defensive line. As long as they disguised themselves as German soldiers, they could easily slip through. Disguising themselves wasn’t difficult, since the search team had plenty of German weapons and vehicles.
With a few Sd.kfz.251 armored personnel carriers and two Kübelwagens, the team looked just like German troops. Even if their faces were different, with camouflage paint, who could tell them apart?
Taking advantage of the rainy weather, Pierre personally led the team to Lot. He had to come himself, after all, several...
With thousands of crates of artworks, it would take hundreds of trucks to transport them all. Only by storing them in the space could they be taken away.
The road led straight to the château. As the convoy approached, René Huyghe, the Louvre’s curator, received a report from his subordinates.
"Germans? Where did they come from... Could it be... they know..."
René’s fears proved to be justified. Soon, everyone in the château was herded into the courtyard at gunpoint. Terrified, they looked at this group of SS soldiers, who seemed somewhat different from the usual—camouflage paint streaked across their faces.
René Huyghe stepped forward and spoke up. Google seaʀᴄh ɴovᴇl(F)ɪre.ɴet
"We are not soldiers. We are just a group of civilians sheltering here from the war."
Pierre replied in German.
"I know what you’re guarding here, Mr. René Huyghe."
His identity exposed in a single sentence, René stared in shock at the Nazi officer, his lips trembling, with only one thought in his mind.
"Now, you have two choices. Either go into that stable yourselves, or stay here in the courtyard..."
As soon as he finished speaking, the soldiers on the trucks cocked their weapons, aiming the barrels of their MG42s at the group.
"Major, Major sir, what... what are you going to do?"
Before he could finish, gunfire erupted, bullets striking the ground in front of René Huyghe and the others. Under the threat of the guns, the staff from the Louvre and other museums had no choice but to obediently enter the stable. After the door was locked, René peered through the cracks in the wooden door and saw the Germans entering the château. Soon, they began carrying out crates.
"Damn it, who tipped off the Germans about our whereabouts? My God, the war was almost over! We’ve been hiding for four years, and still can’t escape these greedy Germans..."
While René Huyghe cursed in frustration, the very German he spoke of had already entered the room where the paintings were stored. The room was filled with wooden crates. What was inside these crates?
The Mona Lisa, Diana Bathing... The most precious treasures of the entire Louvre were all here.
"Well then, now all of these are mine!"
What happened next was simple enough: all these priceless masterpieces were loaded into the space. And then?
Then, the crates filled with paintings from the space were swapped out—those paintings were all bought at secondhand markets in Marseille, traded for cigarettes. Each painting was worth only a few smokes.
To avoid arousing suspicion, Pierre specifically had the Mona Lisa’s crate carried out—in fact, that crate had always been in René Huyghe’s office. When the familiar crate was brought out, René’s face turned pale. For the past four years, he had watched over it day and night, never daring to relax for a moment.
"My God, it’s the Mona Lisa. They... they really found it..."
"Damn it, there must be a traitor who tipped them off."
As everyone began cursing the traitor, they suddenly witnessed a shocking scene—the German soldiers were carrying cans of gasoline into the château.
"Wh-what are they doing?"
"My God, you can’t do this..."
Like the others, René Huyghe pounded desperately on the door, shouting at the top of his lungs. But no one paid them any attention. All they could do was watch helplessly as the Germans poured gasoline throughout the château.
"My God, you’re all madmen, madmen... How could you do this!"
Amidst their curses, the fire was lit. Fueled by gasoline, the flames spread rapidly. In just a short while, the entire château was engulfed in a raging inferno. Staring at the blazing building, René Huyghe and the museum staff were dumbfounded. The priceless treasures they had struggled to protect for four years were now consumed by the flames.
"How could you be so cruel? Don’t you know... those are treasures of human civilization, belonging to all mankind?"
René Huyghe cried out in despair, forced to watch as the fire devoured everything. Only after the château was completely engulfed did Pierre finally give the order to leave.
There was no need for killing. The survivors would testify—SS soldiers had burned the Louvre’s treasures. Only a few paintings were stolen by the Germans; the rest were destroyed by fire.
Let the Germans bear the infamy. It’s not as if their reputation could get any worse. Most importantly, this fire would erase everything.
As the convoy departed, Pierre glanced back at the château burning in the flames. To ensure nothing was left, he had poured more than ten tons of gasoline from his space. That was enough to reduce everything inside to ashes!
If he couldn’t burn Versailles, at least burning the things inside was satisfying—even if it was just for show.