She was a journalist. She had lived the good life — fine dinners in Marseille, a loving husband, a world away from war. Then she watched the Nazis march into France. And something shifted inside her. She didn't wait to be asked. She didn't wait for permission. She joined the Resistance.

At first, she worked as a courier — smuggling messages, hiding Allied soldiers, guiding Jewish families through dangerous checkpoints. Every single trip could have been her last. The Gestapo knew someone was slipping through their fingers. They tapped her phone. Intercepted her mail. Set traps. She slipped through every one.

They gave her a name: The White Mouse. They placed a bounty on her head — 5 million francs. The highest they had ever offered for a single person in France. So they could capture her. She parachuted back in anyway. Not as a courier this time. As a leader. Nancy took command of over 7,000 Maquis resistance fighters — coordinating raids, organizing supply drops, planning attacks on Gestapo headquarters.When the Gestapo destroyed her unit's radio, cutting off communication entirely, she climbed on a bicycle. And rode. Over 500 kilometers through enemy-held territory. In 72 hours. Flirting through checkpoints. Never once stopped. She said it was the thing she was most proud of during the entire war. Not the raids. Not the medals. The ride.

What she didn't know — couldn't know — was that back in Marseille, the Gestapo had taken her husband Henri. He refused to give them her location. He paid with his life. She only found out when the war was over. Nancy Wake survived it all. She became the most decorated servicewoman of World War II — honored by Britain, France, the United States, and Australia.

She lived to 98 years old. When asked about the war, she never called herself a hero. She simply said: "I don't see why we women should just wave our men a proud goodbye and then knit them balaclavas."