Eleven Days in August
Page 39
The ceremony had barely begun when there was another outbreak of firing, inside the tall vault of the cathedral itself. Yet again, the origin of the firing was unclear. The noise became unbearable as returning machine-gun fire from FFI and 2e DB men echoed round the stone walls.57 People dived for cover, spilling chairs in the process.58 Robert Reid reported: ‘Some of the snipers had actually got on to the roof of the cathedral. There was an awful din going on the whole time. Just by me, one man was hit in the neck, but I will say this for the Parisian crowd, there was no real panic inside the cathedral at all; they simply took reasonable precautions. Round every pillar you’d see people sheltering, women with little children cuddled in their arms.’59 Despite the noise and chaos, de Gaulle stood there, unmoved. Eventually, yet again, the firing stopped and order was restored. The mass was cut short and de Gaulle emerged into the bright sunlight, to cries of ‘Vive de Gaulle’, ‘God save de Gaulle’ and ‘Holy Virgin, save de Gaulle’.60 At the same time, there were also outbreaks of gunfire at the place des Pyramides, on the rue de Rivoli and in front of the Hôtel de Ville.61 Each incident followed the same sequence: a small number of shots led to massive responses from the FFI and the men of the 2e DB, while the civilian population dived for cover and then eventually – once the firing had stopped and the wounded had been taken away – returned to the festivities.
According to the correspondent of the Manchester Guardian, a German sniper in civilian clothes was captured by the FFI on a nearby roof.62 This ‘German’ may have been one of a number of junior doctors from the Hôtel-Dieu hospital, who were watching de Gaulle’s arrival at the cathedral from the hospital roof, and were arrested on suspicion of being snipers.63 Robert Reid reported that four ‘snipers’ in grey flannel trousers and white singlets had been arrested inside the cathedral – ‘They’ve got their hands above their heads, and they look very obvious Germans,’ he broadcast.64 Wild rumours circulated – Micheline Bood heard that a family of six had been arrested for carrying out some of the shooting (the 65-year-old grandmother had directed the firing, she was told).65 In fact, there is no firm evidence of a single arrest for sniping anywhere in Paris that day. One man was arrested, however: Jean Mansuy, one of the miliciens who had murdered Georges Mandel in July. He was recognised at the Hôtel de Ville by a résistant he had tortured. The next day, Mansuy was shot dead ‘while trying to escape’.66 Whatever the cause of the gunfire at Notre Dame, 120 people were treated for their injuries – bullet wounds, bruises and the effects of being trampled – in the hours after the incident.67
The official government line – probably not too far from the truth – was that ‘an accidental shot led to a brief burst of gunfire.’68 At the time, de Gaulle described the firing as ‘boastful nonsense’ and in a letter to his wife, who was still in Algiers, put the whole incident into context: ‘There are many armed people here, who, excited by days of fighting, will fire at the roofs for no reason. The first shot then unleashes a hail of gunfire. It won’t last . . . Please send me clean clothes and a pair of slippers.’69 Years later, de Gaulle changed his mind and suggested that the whole thing had been a communist plot designed to weaken his power.70 There is no evidence for this.
Whatever the case, there was a widespread conviction that German agents were lurking on the rooftops and taking pot-shots, and people tried to root them out – even Colonel Henderson of the British Intelligence Service spent that evening crawling around on the rooftops, ‘chasing three snipers with machine guns who . . . finally evaded him’.71 In some cases, it was clearly a fuss about nothing. For example, a flag had been fixed on the bell-tower of Saint-Odile church in the 17th arrondissement; during the night the flag was blown about until it rolled around the pole, and in the dim light it looked like a rifle barrel. Local FFI fighters peppered the bell-tower with rifle fire before someone was sent up to deal with the ‘sniper’ and discovered that there was no one there.72 Fireman René Bertel was less lucky – he was sent up the steeple of the Saint-Léon church in the 15th arrondissement and was shot dead, although it is not clear by whom.73
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Despite the gunfire, the parade had been a tremendous success, and had shown everyone – the Free French, the Resistance and the Allies – the depth of popular support for de Gaulle. For Pasteur Vallery-Radot, marching behind the General, it seemed as though his life had reached its pinnacle. He went to the empty Ministry of Health, near the place de l’Etoile, and, overcome with emotion, collapsed into a chair and through his sobs declared: ‘This is my destiny. I would like to die tonight.’74
Others had more of an appetite for the new politics that would shape liberated France. The CNR – its feathers ruffled from de Gaulle’s failure to consult with them over the parade – again discussed de Gaulle’s refusal to declare the Republic. After a long debate, in which many people argued that the CNR should be the nucleus of a future Constituent Assembly, it was agreed that de Gaulle should be invited to the next session of the CNR (he never came). Tellingly, for the first time the minutes of the CNR meeting contained the true names of the participants, and not their Resistance code names.75 Although the whiff of cordite had barely faded away, ordinary politics was beginning to reassert itself.
Down the rue de Rivoli, in the northern wing of the Louvre, the leading civil servants at the Ministry of Finance met to discuss monetary policy. There was a clash between the ‘Parisians’ – those who had remained in France throughout the occupation and wanted to see an increase in salaries in order to kick-start the economy – and the ‘Algerians’, the Free French who had been part of the Algiers think-tanks and wanted to impose a rapid deflationist policy by cutting state spending. The debate that would characterise much of the post-war history of capitalism – France included – was beginning as soon as the capital was liberated. Although the debate had the same fundamental political lines as today – the left wanted to use the state, the right wanted to reduce its power – it was superimposed on the radically different wartime experiences of the Free French and the Resistance.76
That evening Parodi held a dinner at a swish dining club, the Cercle Interallié, to which all the secretary-generals and their spouses were invited. The menu was less swish, however, because of the food shortage: as one guest reported, it included soup (‘quite good’), roast beef (‘mediocre but plentiful’), a few potatoes, good wine, champagne and tinned fruit. During the dinner conversation, Parodi expressed his fear that severe political conflicts were on the horizon, as de Gaulle brought over his ministerial apparatus from Algiers, replacing the Resistance structures that had been built up during the occupation and the secretary-generals who had taken office during the insurrection.77 In fact, matters were moving even more quickly than Parodi realised. It would be less than twenty-four hours before his prediction came to pass.
Finally, far from Paris, decisions were being taken about the future of France. As de Gaulle led the parade down the Champs-Elysées, the Provisional Assembly in Algiers was shaping the country’s future, as it finally adopted an order that set out the crime of indignité nationale (impugning the national honour).78 This was a minor version of treason that covered ‘direct or indirect aid to Germany and its allies, or deliberate damage to the unity of the French national or to the Liberty and Equality of Frenchmen and women’. As well as the obvious people who were part of the collaborationist state or political groups, the new law was aimed at the authors of ‘articles, brochures, books, or lectures in favour of the enemy, of collaboration with the enemy, or of racism and totalitarian doctrines’. The penalties ranged from being deprived of all civic rights to restrictions on where the guilty could live.79
One man who would have reason to fear the settling of accounts with Vichy was collaborationist writer Robert Brasillach. In the late afternoon, Resistance fighters climbed onto the roof of the building where he was hiding, looking for snipers. When they kicked their way into the flat next door, Brasillach began to panic and decided to find somewhere else to stay. Sl
ipping out of the building, and having removed his glasses in a half-hearted attempt to disguise himself, Brasillach made his way to the hotel room of a friend, who scared him even more with blood-curdling tales of the arrest of an acquaintance. In the end, Brasillach decided he would be better off back in his hideaway, so he returned to the building, only to be accosted by the building manager, who wanted to know who he was and where he lived. Brasillach managed to spin a story of sub-letting someone’s apartment, and he was allowed back to safety.80
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In the southern suburbs, two contrasting events took place. A grim discovery was made at Bagneux cemetery: a couple, Robert and Pauline Vermandel, both in their fifties, were found dead, shot through the head. A piece of paper pinned to one of the bodies explained that they were members of Déat’s fascist party and that their whole family had been collaborators. The end of the note read: ‘Following a trial, they have been executed on orders. Signed: The FFI Commissar of Security.’81 There was no such rank in the FFI, and no trial had taken place. This extra-judicial killing of two fascists indicated that habits learnt in the Resistance would not disappear overnight.
Not far away, at Chevilly-Larue, just to the north-east of Fresnes, a local lad, wearing the uniform of the 2e DB, turned up at the school. The headmaster of the school, Monsieur Godfroy, described the young man’s welcome: ‘He explains how he risked his life crossing the Pyrenees, then got through Spain. He describes his time in Morocco, where he joined the famous Leclerc Division, then in England, then his arrival in Normandy, the stupendous battle, the bloody fighting in which his cousin was killed at his side. He is straightforward, quiet, and not at all boastful. He is resolute like all his comrades. This 22-year-old tank commander is my son.’82
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The advance of the Third US Army to the south-east of Paris was so rapid that its supply lines were stretched to breaking point. The army needed 450,000 gallons of fuel each day; only 315,000 were received.83 By the end of the day, the Allies had reached Troyes, while Allied aircraft bombed Field Marshal Model’s new headquarters near Rheims 100 km to the north, destroying important parts of the command post. The German retreat was in disarray: communication with the retreating Army Group G, which was being chased up the Rhône Valley by the joint US and Free French forces that had landed on 15 August, was sporadic at best.84 During the fighting to the east of Paris, communication with the 17th SS Panzer Grenadier Division collapsed, while the 48th Infantry Division was dispersed and most of its signalling equipment was captured.85 The Germans were fighting blind.
The Allies were not making major advances to the north of the capital. The 5th Panzer Army had been able to hold its position at the Seine near Rouen, despite the Allied advance to the south. However, as the Allies streamed across the Seine upriver, the 5th Panzer Army’s position became untenable and virtually the whole army pulled back eastwards, leaving only a small group to defend the Seine near Elbeuf. At the Seine bridgehead at Mantes, the battered and exhausted men of the 1st SS Panzer Corps, who had been holding back the Allies and were hoping to withdraw, were ordered to cover the retreating 5th Panzer Army, which was endangered by Allied attacks that threatened to break through and surround them.86
To the north-east of the city, the German 47th Infantry Division was ordered to take up an east–west line at Le Bourget to stop the Allies from breaking out of the capital.87 In the morning, as part of the agreement with General Gerow, Leclerc sent two probing missions out to the north and north-east of Paris. While the group that headed north through Saint-Denis met no serious opposition beyond occasional bouts of mortar fire, the other group ran into the German troops at Le Bourget. The machine-gunner on one of the jeeps, Le Burel, was killed by a burst of gunfire that ripped his throat out and covered his comrade Louis Rabier with blood. Rabier set the dead man on the floor, then – in his own words – he turned into a robot. He picked up a machine gun, screamed ‘Revenge! Revenge!’ and started firing pell-mell at the German position. ‘I fired so much that in the end the shots were going off on their own,’ he later recalled.88 He eventually came to his senses and ran for cover, zigzagging to avoid enemy fire. It turned out that they had bumped into a large column of German infantry and were substantially outnumbered, so they rapidly retreated back to Saint-Denis.89
It seems that the Germans were emboldened to move in daylight due to the relative lack of Allied air cover that day.90 The Germans were reinforced by the von Aulock Division, a makeshift group composed mainly of clerks and orderlies, with no artillery, although they did have light tanks. Troops from the combined unit were spread out all over the region north-east of Paris, with their headquarters at Moussy-le-Vieux, twelve kilometres away from the village of Saint-Pathus where Jedburgh Team AUBREY was based.91 These German troops were involved in a particularly bloody incident, as the men of AUBREY – Marchant, Hooker and Chaigneau – put on their uniforms and joined forces with hundreds of FFI fighters who had been summoned to the nearby village of Oissery by Major Armand (‘Spiritualist’) and local FFI leader Charles Hildevert.
The reason why these men converged on Oissery is uncertain, but a contemporary account suggests they were to be reinforcements for an imminent Allied parachute attack behind German lines.92 One participant later stated they were to secure the nearby landing ground in preparation for a major supply drop.93 Whatever the case, the men were instructed to make their way to the small village but not to use their weapons on the way: ‘Do not open fire, even on isolated German soldiers’, read their orders.94 London apparently urged that the operation should be postponed because of delays on the ground, but Captain Marchant decided they should go ahead nonetheless, as changing the plans would only cause confusion.95 The men were supposed to leave their rallying points in the north-east suburbs early in the morning of 25 August, but for some reason their departure was delayed by twenty-four hours.96 Nothing went quite according to plan, as one of the groups captured a number of German vehicles and prisoners en route, while other units were delayed or never left. Those who did make it to the rendezvous – a sugar-beet processing plant at Oissery – were given weapons, including four Bren heavy machine guns and five Piat anti-tank weapons. But two of the machine guns were still covered in their protective grease and had to be cleaned, while only the three Jedburgh men knew how to fire the Piats, and had to instruct the FFI fighters. A makeshift field hospital was set up at the processing plant, and wounded FFI fighters and German soldiers were left there with some nurses, while the rest of the group gathered on a low-lying road by the side of a small lake on the south-eastern outskirts of Oissery.97
As soon as the men arrived at the lake, they came under sustained fire from a German light tank and an unknown number of soldiers. After an hour of fighting, two more tanks turned up and began shelling the Resistance position. A number of Frenchmen were killed and wounded, including one inexperienced man who had his jaw broken while using the Piat anti-tank weapon. By 12:30 it became clear that the German firepower was overwhelming, and the order was given to disperse. This proved easier said than done – Marchant found his escape blocked by German troops and had to hide in the lake, where he remained for nearly nine hours while the surface was repeatedly raked with machine-gun fire. Meanwhile, Captain Chaigneau and a nurse crawled along the small stream that snakes south-east from the lake, with Sergeant Hooker and Major Armand about thirty metres behind them. Suddenly there was a massive explosion and Hooker heard the nurse screaming; Chaigneau was dead. A German tank was stationed just the other side of the stream, and Hooker and Armand had to stay where they were for three hours. The enemy vehicle was so close that Hooker could hear the crew speaking and could even make out the sound of the Morse code being broadcast by the tank radio operator. Eventually, they made their way to a safe house and were picked up by advancing American troops; Hooker was sent to Paris, while Armand was dispatched to London for debriefing by SOE. On 30 August, Hooker returned to pick up Marchant, who had escaped from the lake dur
ing the night, and both men were brought back to Britain.
Over 100 Frenchmen were killed in the fighting at Oissery, including FFI leader Hildevert. Another sixty-five were taken prisoner; many were deported and never seen again. The sugar-beet processing factory was completely destroyed, and over twenty badly burnt bodies were found in the ashes. On his return to the UK, Marchant wrote: ‘The Germans shot everyone, all the prisoners and the wounded, even a nurse, and burned the corpses.’98 Of the French men and women who died as a result of what happened at Oissery, either in the fighting or in the concentration camps, the oldest was aged fifty-eight, while the youngest was 16-year-old Yves Goussard, a young black man from Martinique. Yves was captured at Oissery, was deported and eventually died in Bergen-Belsen of typhus, at the same time, in the same place and of the same cause as another, more renowned teenage victim of Nazism: Anne Frank.99 Whole families were destroyed by the battle – Charles Hildevert’s two sons, Georges (nineteen) and Roger (twenty-one) died alongside their father in the fighting at the lake.100 The one-sided combat had involved French men and women from all over the north-eastern suburbs. They had come from their homes early in the morning, and over 150 of them never returned, caught up in an operation that remains obscure.
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That night, the shocked and grieving villagers of Oissery and Saint-Pathus heard the sound of aeroplanes flying overhead. Some thought that this was the promised weapons drop arriving too late. But the aircraft were German planes from bases in Holland and Germany and they were heading for Paris, as ordered the day before by Field Marshal Model.101 With Paris still celebrating, there was no air-raid warning, no time to get to the shelters. Berthe Auroy, still in her nightdress, huddled in her cellar as the bombs fell on her neighbourhood, hitting the nearby Bichat hospital.102 When the attack finished, Berthe returned to her apartment and saw an apocalyptic vision: ‘The Paris sky is on fire. Whole neighbourhoods are burning, sending gigantic flames shooting skywards. The northern suburbs are all lit up. I don’t dare go back to sleep.’103 Near the Jardin du Luxembourg, Paul Tuffrau initially thought the aircraft were Allied planes, but soon realised they were not. Peeking through the shutters of his apartment, Tuffrau saw red flares floating down to the east, accompanied by terrible detonations.104 Not far away, Odette Lainville and her husband Robert hid in the cellar, then when the explosions stopped the couple emerged into the courtyard, where it was as bright as day, although the sky was a horrific bright red – ‘faerie-like and awful’, wrote Odette in her diary.105