Eulogy read for my dad - Wind Crest Retirement Community - February 7th, 2014:

In August, 1994, I went to France with my father to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Allied liberation of Paris from Nazi occupation during World War II.

To the world, the liberation of Paris marked a turning point in the war against Nazi Germany.

To the citizens of Paris, the liberation marked the end of four years of austere and brutal occupation by a ruthless enemy.  Many of those citizens were still alive in 1994.  To them, the celebration would not have been unlike this country's 50th anniversary of American independence from the British.

To one man, my dad—a tank driver in the Free French 2nd Armored Division, which along with the American 4th Infantry ousted the Germans from the city that day—the liberation of Paris marked what he would thereafter always refer to as the greatest day of his life.

On that August day in 1944, my dad's company, consisting of 17 Sherman tanks and approximately 90 men, was assigned the key mission in that battle—to capture the German headquarters, which was garrisoned in the 5-star Meurice Hotel on the famous Rue de Rivoli.

One day before the 1994 anniversary, and its attendant festivities, dad and I walked from our hotel, and retraced the path he took 50 years before in his tank.

As we walked, dad retold the story I had heard so many times as a child.  The difference this time is that imagining the scene wasn't necessary—we were actually there.

We started at the Hotel de Ville, where Allied troops had assembled awaiting the Germans' answer to the Allied command's ultimatum to either surrender or fight, an ultimatum which history now knows went unheeded.

Then we walked west along the Rue de Rivoli, the route of the middle of a three column formation, in which dad's tank was positioned.

Finally, after walking past landmarks such as the famous Louvre museum, and the beautiful Jardin des Tuileries, we arrived at the Meurice, which to this day is a 5-star hotel, and considered to be one of the most lavish in the world.

No sooner did we enter the lobby than we were confronted by a snooty concierge, sensing that riff raff such as we did not belong in the Meurice, and probably assuming that we were lost.

When dad explained that his tank had been blown up in front of the hotel 50 years before, and that we were merely peeking inside to take a look, the concierge said, “Attendez vous un instant, s'il vous plait”—wait here one minute please—and scurried off through a private door in the lobby.

Thinking he had gone to fetch security, dad and I made haste for the exit, but before we could leave were again confronted by the concierge; this time accompanied by an older, impeccably dressed, and very distinguished looking man.

This man introduced himself as the general manager of the Meurice, and invited us to follow him.

He led us through a tall and narrow double door, into the most palatial dining room I had ever seen.  From 50-foot ceilings hung gargantuan and ornate chandeliers, and the gilded walls were festooned with portraits and finery recalling 18th century French aristocracy.

We were the only ones in the entire dining room.

The three of us sat down facing each other at a round table.

As if by telepathy, we were delivered coffee and tea in fine china, and pastries on a silver platter.

The manager asked dad to retell the story of the repossession of this magnificent edifice, within whose walls we now sat.

Dad told him of the German soldiers who threw hand grenades into the turret of his tank from a balcony of the hotel.

He told of how, after the explosion, he bailed out of the tank from his driver's position and emptied a fire extinguisher into the open and smoldering hatch, so scared that he would either be shot, or that the tank would explode, that his knees were literally knocking.  He nonetheless was convinced his tank mates were inside the turret and possibly still alive, and therefore must try to rescue them, even at the risk of his own life.

He told of a German commander, a member of General Von Choltitz's senior staff, who was on a balcony of the Meurice watching this very event, and who ordered an SS officer who was preparing to kill dad not to shoot.

He told of how, on hearing his tank mates call for him from the cover of colonnades lining the street, yelling that all had bailed out and were alive, he ran to join them.

He told of how he ran through a firefight, armed with only a pistol, back to Allied held positions to find a medic to attend to his gravely wounded tank mate; and how en route he met face to face with a German officer, also armed with a pistol, and shot him on sight knowing that if he did not, the German officer surely would. 

He told of how, for these actions, he was awarded this medal, the Legion of Honor; the highest decoration bestowed by the French government to its military combatants for bravery.

By the time dad finished the story, the General manager of the Meurice was nearly in tears.  He produced a book from his portfolio briefcase, and asked dad to autograph it.

The book's title was “Is Paris Burning?”, the bestselling history of the liberation of Paris; the book in which my father first learned, some 20 years after the war, of Harry Leithold, the German naval officer who had saved his life that day.

As we said our farewells and left the hotel, the general manager looked at me and said, “Tu dois etre tres fier de ton pere”—you must be very proud of your father.

Rene was such a wonderful man. The 3 years I was able to work with and get to know him and his family were the best 3 years I could have ever asked for. Rene always brought a smile to my face and so much joy in my heart whenever I got to spend time with him. My heart goes out to the Champion Family. Rest in Peace Rene. You lived an incredible life and your legacy and memories with forever stay in my heart. I'll miss you and I'll think of your often as I do now. Marc and David, let me know if there is anything I can do for you guys. As always, you are all in my prayers and in my thoughts. I love you all.

Jean René Champion was born in Neuilly-sur-Seine, France, on February 27th, 1921 and died peacefully at his home in Highlands Ranch on December 16th, 2014.  He moved to the United States at the age of 8 and led a remarkable life as a freight-hopping hobo during the depression era, working odd jobs as a cowboy and lay preacher among others.  In 1941, Champion returned to Europe to fight Nazi Germany as a tank driver in the Free French 2nd Armored Division and participated in the liberation of Paris in 1944.  A highly decorated veteran and recipient of the Legion of Honor, France's highest honor, his exploits as a hobo and as a war hero are documented in multiple books and documentaries such as “Is Paris burning?” and “Riding the Rails.”   Following his return to the United States, Champion graduated magna cum laude from City College of New York and earned a Ph.D. in Anthropology from Columbia University.  He spent 33 years working in the private sector as a defense analyst, manager, and executive stationed in Europe and the U.S.  He also taught Anthropology part-time at the University of Denver and Metropolitan State University after his retirement from the Johns-Manville Corporation in 1990.  His life story is documented in an autobiography titled “The Best Days of My Life: Memories of a Hobo Soldier.”  René Champion was preceded in death by his beloved wife Leslie and is survived by his children Marc, David, Peter, and Michele, along with three grandchildren.  A memorial service will be held at the Wind Crest retirement community in Highlands Ranch, CO  on a date to be determined.  Donations in his honor may be made to the Alzheimer's Association or Maxfund animal shelter.

We will always remember this remarkable man and will miss him always. Rest in Peace, Dear Rene,

OBITUARIO

Jean René Champion

27 febrero, 1921 – 16 diciembre, 2014

Olinger Funeral, Cremation & Cemetery - Chapel Hill

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