To some, the very word conjures images of romance: Maurice Chevalier, the Eiffel Tower, damp cobblestones under pale moonlight, elegant women sipping wine, and goofy black berets.
Me, I think of Vichy France. I think of the gendarmes enthusiastically rounding up French Jews, herding them into cattle cars, and shipping them to the crematoria of Auschwitz. All accomplished without the aid of a single German soldier. Even the SS were shocked at how efficiently and ruthlessly the French collaborated in the genocide of the Jewish people.