Grace Under Pressure

By Hortense le Gentil

PART ONE:

When people ask me why I became a leadership coach, I think of my grandmother and her heroism during the German Occupation of France in the Second World War.

My grandmother inspired respect. She was a strong woman who knew what she wanted – and who expected her children and grandchildren to be well-behaved. Looking back, I see that she was a true role model for what a good leader should be.

When war broke out, my grandfather went off to fight the Germans. He left Grand-Mère (as we always called her) in charge of the family chateau, near Le Touquet in northern France. She was alone to fend for herself with three children, including my father, the youngest, who was only seven.

A few weeks later, after the French army had collapsed, a German officer knocked at the door. “Bonjour Madame,” he said. “We are requisitioning your house as our headquarters!”

What happened next came down to us grandchildren through stories repeated over the decades. We didn’t know what was true and what was not —and of course, we were too in awe of Grand-Mère to pry, just as she was too discreet and private ever to tell us. But we do know that she handled an incredibly perilous situation with enormous dignity and strength. What else is that but leadership?

So, the imperious German officer had made his announcement and stood impatiently in Grand-Mère’s threshold. The first thing she said, apparently, was: “Very well, come in. But first you must wipe your boots on the mat.” She was not just strong – she was fearless, too. The officer obeyed, and the rules of engagement were set.

PART TWO:

For the next four years, the Germans lived in the main part of the chateau, while Grand-Mère and her three children squatted in a small side wing and tried to live a normal life. My father’s school had been shuttered, so Grand-Mère hired a tutor for him – a local Jewish man who had somehow escaped the Nazi dragnet. Details are sketchy, but she somehow hid this hunted man in her cramped corner of the chateau, while just on the other side of the kitchen wall the Germans directed their pitiless Occupation

One day in the spring of 1944, as the Allied armies neared, the German officer came to the door again to announce that they were leaving. He was very strict with his subordinates, but like everyone else, he was impressed by Grand-Mère. He told her that he had been ordered to burn down the house, but had decided not to out of respect for her.

So the chateau and its inhabitants survived the war unscathed, largely because Grand-Mère had nurtured a good relationship with this officer. He was the enemy, yes, but he wasn’t evil. Under the uniform, he was human, too.

After the Liberation, months went by with no word from my grandfather, with whom Grand-Mère had lost touch since the very early days of the war. All the villagers tried to make her accept that he was never coming back. But she refused to give in; every single day she got nicely dressed up, put on her lipstick and went to the station to meet the train from Paris. She never lost faith.

And wouldn’t you know it? One day my grandfather got off that train and embraced her on the platform. During the first weeks of fighting he had been gassed and taken prisoner. He then spent years in a series of POW camps. When the war concluded, it took him months to find his way home in the ensuing chaos.

In 1972, almost three decades years after the war, my father’s old tutor came to the door and asked to see Grand-Mère. We only witnessed part of their reunion — as I said, she was a private woman — but what took place was very emotional. This man owed his life to Grand-Mère, a strict, taciturn stranger who had stuck her neck out for him when all others had turned away. I was seven years old and peeking around the door, but I’ll never forget seeing the two of them standing in silence, holding hands. I can still feel the electricity of that moment.

Grand-Mère lived a long time, well into her nineties. I often think of her, and wonder how she found the strength to carry on in such daunting circumstances. Surely giving up would have been easier. But she did not, and she kept faith throughout the ordeal.

Today I am a leadership coach who helps people align their inner beliefs with their professional lives. I have just published a book, Aligned, that lays out my philosophy and practice. When people ask me about leadership, I am taken back to Grand-Mère. She taught me to align myself with my beliefs, to look people in the eye and accept who I am and who they are.

Like everyone, I have made mistakes, but I am not ashamed of them. We all have weak spots — every life is affected by suffering, obstacles, failures. I wouldn’t be who I am without the hardships I have faced and overcome. Or without Grand-Mère, who showed me how to lead with grace under pressure.

Hortense le Gentil is the president of JAY Consulting and the author of Aligned: Connecting Your True Self With the Leader You’re Meant to Be