🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸The 11-Year-Old Boy Who Put Sugar in the Gas Tanks of 40 Nᴀᴢɪ Jeeps in One Night
It was November 17th, 1943, when an 11-year-old boy named Marcel Dubois became an unlikely hero in the heart of Nazi-occupied Belgium. In the dead of night, with a simple canvas bag filled with 10 kilograms of sugar, Marcel would execute a plan so daring and brilliant that it would become one of the most extraordinary acts of resistance in World War II.
This is the story of how a young boy, armed with nothing but courage and ingenuity, took down 40 Nazi military vehicles in a single night—and changed the course of history.
A War-Torn Town Under Nazi Rule
Belgium, occupied by Nazi forces since 1940, had seen its people crushed under the weight of oppression. Towns had been renamed, languages banned, and countless families disappeared into the darkness. Vervier, a small industrial town nestled near the German border, had been particularly hard-hit. Its streets, once filled with laughter and life, now echoed with the heavy boots of German soldiers.
The face of the occupation was embodied in two men: Hedman Victor Brandt, the garrison commander who had taken over the town’s finest hotel, and his second-in-command, Oberloitant Ernst Simman. While Brandt wasn’t the most brutal of the Nazis, Simman’s name was whispered in fear. His methods of interrogation had earned him a terrifying reputation, and his cruelty was known to all.
Marcel Dubois lived in the heart of this darkness. He resided with his mother, Simone, and his younger sister, Colette, in a modest apartment above a bakery that had been forced to close when the Nazis took all the flour. The apartment was small—only three rooms—but it had once been filled with love and laughter. Now, it was a place of survival, where each day was a battle for food, dignity, and life.
The Loss That Fueled a Fire
Marcel’s father, Henri Dubois, had been killed in the early days of the invasion. He was shot while trying to slow the German advance near Leesh, and his body was never recovered. Marcel never knew his father’s fate beyond the cold stone of a memorial that the Nazis had made the town remove just six months later.
Marcel was a small boy, a result of the hunger and hardship that had followed the occupation. His clothes hung loosely on his thin frame, and his cheekbones jutted sharply from his face. But despite the hunger and the cruelty around him, Marcel’s eyes were old. They had seen too much—his world had been destroyed, and he had learned to recognize the men who were responsible for it. Marcel had become an invisible child, slipping through the shadows, unnoticed by the soldiers who patrolled the streets. His survival depended on being unnoticed.
A Life of Routine and Rebellion
Every morning, Marcel delivered newspapers—Nazi propaganda that filled his heart with hatred. Yet, it gave him something far more valuable than a meager income. It gave him freedom. With the newspapers in his hands, he could move through the streets of occupied Vervier, passing German checkpoints without suspicion. He could observe the Nazi patrols, learn their patterns, and understand their weaknesses. Marcel was watching, always learning, and always waiting.
The Nazi presence in Vervier was oppressive. Swastika flags fluttered from every building, and German soldiers marched through the streets, boots pounding on cobblestones. At the heart of the occupation was the motorpool—a place where 40 Nazi jeeps were lined up, ready to patrol the town and its surrounding areas. These jeeps were not just vehicles; they were tools of terror, used to round up resistance members, carry out raids, and transport prisoners. Marcel knew this because he watched them every day.
He had memorized the movements of the German soldiers and the schedule of the motorpool. He knew when the vehicles left and when they returned, and he saw firsthand how the Nazis used these vehicles to terrorize the people of Vervier. Marcel’s hatred for the Nazis burned in his chest like a coal that never went cold. But he was a child. He had no weapons, no training, and no power. So, he did what he could—he survived.
The Catalyst: A Friend’s Pain
Everything changed when Marcel’s best friend, Thomas Mercier, was caught by a German patrol after curfew. It was a small infraction—only 15 minutes past curfew—but it was enough to get Thomas brutally beaten in the town square. Marcel watched as the soldiers slapped Thomas across the face until his nose shattered and blood poured down his chin. Thomas’s father, Antoine, tried to intervene, but he was arrested and taken away by the Gestapo.
Two days later, Marcel’s worst fear was realized: Thomas’s father had been sent to a concentration camp, and he would never return. The grief that consumed Thomas transformed him into a ghost, and Marcel knew he couldn’t stand by and do nothing. He had watched enough. The time for silence was over.
The Resistance and the Decision to Act
Marcel knew the resistance existed in Vervier, but no one spoke of it openly. Children were often used as spies, but it was dangerous to even hint at it, for fear of being caught. Marcel watched Madame Pauline Bowmont, an elderly woman who lived next door, and noticed patterns in her movements. He followed her for weeks, eventually discovering that she was a member of the local resistance.
Marcel didn’t hesitate. He approached her, offering to help. He had information. He knew about the German patrols. He had been watching them for months. At first, the adults in the resistance dismissed him, but Marcel insisted. He knew when the patrols passed, which guards were lazy, and which could be bribed. He knew where the blind spots in the motorpool were. Marcel had memorized it all.
The Plan: Sabotaging the Nazi Jeeps
Marcel’s idea was simple but audacious: sabotage the Nazi jeeps by pouring sugar into their gas tanks. The sugar would dissolve in the gasoline, creating a syrup that would clog the engine and render the vehicles useless. The plan was risky, but it was the only option.
The resistance cell was hesitant. Marcel was just a child, and the consequences of failure were dire. If he was caught, he would be tortured. His family would be killed. But Marcel was determined. He had already made up his mind. The Nazis were killing people every day, and he was going to stop them.
For three weeks, Marcel trained. He practiced in secret, learning how to open fuel caps, pour the sugar, and close the tanks without leaving any trace. He spent hours memorizing the motorpool layout, watching guard rotations, and timing his movements. The operation would take place on November 17th, 1943—during the night, when the guards would be less alert.
The Night of the Operation
At 2:00 a.m., Marcel slipped out of his apartment and made his way to the motorpool. His heart pounded in his chest, but he moved with the precision of someone who had rehearsed this moment a thousand times. The streets were empty, save for the German patrols, and Marcel knew exactly when to pass them. He crawled through the drainage culvert that ran under the fence of the motorpool, emerging inside the compound without being seen.
He spent the next two hours crawling from jeep to jeep, pouring sugar into their gas tanks. Forty vehicles, each one sabotaged with a simple act of defiance. Marcel moved quickly, his heart racing with every step. He had no idea if he would make it out alive, but he knew that this was his moment. This was his chance to fight back.
The Aftermath: A Town in Chaos
By morning, the jeeps began to break down. At first, it seemed like a mechanical failure, but as the day went on, the entire motorpool ground to a halt. Thirty-six vehicles were rendered useless, their engines seizing up one by one. The Nazis were furious. They launched a full investigation, but they found no evidence. No one saw anything. No one could identify the saboteur.
The Gestapo arrested dozens of people in the town, torturing them for information. But they could find nothing. The sabotage remained a mystery. Marcel had struck a blow against the Nazi occupation, and he had done it without firing a single shot.
The Cost of Resistance
In the days that followed, Marcel saw the cost of his actions. Seven people were executed in public as punishment for the sabotage. He watched the bodies of innocent men and women hung in the town square, their lives taken because of something he had done. Marcel was torn with guilt. He had saved lives, but at what cost?
The resistance told him that his actions had made a difference. They had saved at least 12 people from being sent to the concentration camps. But Marcel couldn’t shake the images of the executions. He had made a choice, and he had to live with it.
A Hero Without Recognition
After the war, Marcel went on with his life. He never spoke of what he had done. He never sought recognition. The story of the 11-year-old boy who sabotaged 40 Nazi jeeps remained a secret, buried in the pages of history. But his actions had changed the course of the war, and they had shown the world that even the smallest person can make a difference.
Marcel Dubois passed away in 2008, but his story lives on. In Vervier, a plaque commemorates his bravery—a simple child’s footprint etched into bronze, honoring the boy who fought back when everyone else was too afraid to act.
Marcel Dubois was not just a hero. He was a reminder that courage comes in many forms, and even the smallest acts of resistance can shake the foundations of an empire.
