by Matthew Cobb
461 This was a reflection of his long-held view that the groups in the Occupied Zone were in some way more serious and more representative than those in the Non-Occupied Zone. As Brossolette had put it in London in November 1942: ‘the occupied zone has not spoken for two and a half years, and this is unfortunate because there is a difference of degree between the Occupied Zone and the Free Zone; the real resistance is that of the Occupied Zone, which was launched first. The real heart of France is beating in the Occupied Zone and the recovery and reconstruction of France will naturally come from the Occupied Zone.’ Pierre Brossolette, ‘La France devant les Français combattants’; speech to the Royal Institute of International Affairs, Chatham House, 17 November 1942. CH 8/876, p. 2.
462 Cordier (1999), p. 373. This tone was repeated in a letter from Philip, which Moulin brought back from London and immediately transmitted to Brossolette.
463 Brossolette also invited the Front National to the Coordinating Committee. He accepted Moulin’s refusal to discuss with the FN in the southern zone, where it represented nothing, but in the north, he argued, things were very different. From this point of view, the existence of the northern zone Coordinating Committee was essential in welding the FTP to the main Resistance organizations. See Bourdet’s comments in Bédarida & Azéma (1983), p. 43.
464 The three men had briefly met the day before, in the Bois de Boulogne.
465 This is based on Passy (1951), pp. 180–1, and Meunier (1993), p. 92.
466 Passy (1951), p. 181. Péan (1998), p. 467, provides an uncorroborated third-hand account – allegedly based on a verbal description from Meunier to Sabine Jansen and Maurice Voutey, given perhaps half a century after the event – according to which Moulin was so furious that at one point in the row he bared his backside to Brossolette, shouting: ‘That’s what I think of you!’ The vulgarity of such an action would explain the shock expressed in Passy’s memoirs (‘there was a violent and painful incident which I would like to be able to completely forget, because the protagonists . . . were without doubt among the greatest heroes of this war and two of the most faithful and loyal collaborators of General de Gaulle’ – Passy, 1951, p. 180). But there is no other indication that such an event took place. Furthermore, the violence of the argument as described by Passy might well have been sufficient to elicit his appalled reaction. Finally, in his own memoirs, co-written by Voutey and published in 1993, Meunier gives no hint of any such incident (Meunier, 1993, p. 92).
467 Frenay’s report is reproduced in Noguères & Degliame-Fouché (1972), pp. 376–9. His 8 April 1943 letter to Moulin in which he complained that London was trying to ‘bureaucratize’ the Resistance is on pp. 279–84.
468 Cordier (1999), p. 408.
469 The full text of Moulin’s report to de Gaulle of 7 May 1943 is given in Closon (1974), pp. 80–96. This quote is from p. 94. Closon was an active participant in these events: he was sent back from France to London by Moulin with this report, with explicit instructions not to let Passy see it, but instead to hand it straight to André Philip. Passy discovered that Closon had the document, and insisted that he hand it over. Closon refused, and there was a stand-off which finished with Passy accepting the situation, but saying ‘You will never go to France again.’ Closon replied: ‘We shall see.’ Exactly four months after leaving, Closon was back in France. (Closon, 1974, pp. 80 and 121).
470 See Bourdet’s intervention in Bédarida & Azéma (1983), p. 42.
471 As Liliane Jameson wrote in her diary on 25 March: ‘A beautiful day today. Ever since this morning the sky is a brilliant blue, pure, luminous and deep. The wide-open windows let a warm breeze come in and heat the inside of the house, still freezing from winter. In the courtyard the cats sleep on the lawn, birds hop about and perch on the slender young tree with its naively youthful leaves; children squeal, run after each other, happy to enjoy their enthusiasm for life. What a pleasure to no longer be smothered in heavy clothes. Everything would be so fantastic if . . . This “if” is a continual reminder, a shadow in our sleep, which turns even the slightest joy into sadness, which hovers, invisible and vast, unchallengeable and tyrannical . . . The situation is both more impossible and more acceptable when the weather is fine and nature seems joyful. That is, a beautiful sky cheers you up, but makes it even worse that we cannot fully enjoy it, without any worries. And you listen to the latest communiqué, the latest speech, grabbing on to some vague illusion, and wait.’ Schroeder (2000), p. 180. Hélène Berr’s wartime diary is similarly punctuated with moments of great pleasure. For example, on 26 July 1942, three days after describing the horrors of the Drancy camp where her father was being held for not wearing the yellow star correctly, she wrote: ‘Life is extraordinary. This is not an aphorism. This evening I feel exalted. It’s as if I am living in the atmosphere of a novel, I can’t explain it. It’s like having wings . . . We spent a marvellous afternoon in the library listening to records, with the windows open on to an infinitely tranquil yet buzzing sun-drenched garden . . . I am enchanted. There is enchantment in my life at present. I am grateful for it with all my heart.’ (Berr, 2008, pp. 109–10.) Elsewhere in her diary Hélène writes: ‘But in my inner world, all seems dark and I see only anguish ahead; I have always in my mind the thought that a trial awaits me. It feels as if a huge black corridor separates me from the moment when I come out into the light again’ (Berr, 2008, p. 176).
472 A discussion of the CNR in June 1983, organized by the Institut d’Histoire du Temps Présent, included contributions from many of the participants (Bédarida & Azéma, 1983). This was one of the few occasions in which résistants presented their different points of view, face to face. The conflict of memories and their relation to documentary evidence make fascinating reading.
473 Peyrefitte (1994), pp. 143–4.
474 See Cordier’s article in Bédarida & Azéma (1983), p. 128.
475 Although Gaullist mythology tends to emphasize the importance of the CNR in cementing de Gaulle’s domination over Giraud, some historians consider it played little if any role (e.g. Jackson, 2001, p. 458). Others, such as Thomas (1996), do not even mention the CNR, which presumably amounts to the same thing. Macmillan was well aware of the foundation of the CNR – it made a splash in the press and he was contacted by London about it (Baynac, 2007, p. 688). But he made no reference to the event in his diary, which suggests it was not at the forefront of his mind during his negotiations with Giraud and the Free French (Macmillan, 1984). Even Crémieux-Brilhac (2001) is less emphatic about the role of the CNR than earlier historians. However, there was a clear correlation between the announcement of the CNR and Giraud’s decision to take a step towards de Gaulle. Furthermore, the growing role of the Resistance and the existence of the CNR were both a decisive factor in shaping UK and US public opinion, and in tempering the staunch anti-Gaullism of Churchill and Roosevelt at this point.
476 Crémieux-Brilhac (2001), p. 705.
477 On 12 June Churchill was secretly briefing the British press against de Gaulle: ‘He has undoubted Fascist and dictatorial tendencies. At one time he presents himself as the sole barrier against Communism; at another, as enjoying Communist support.’ Kersaudy (1981), p. 286. Five days later Roosevelt concurred in a letter to the British Prime Minister: ‘we must divorce ourselves from de Gaulle because . . . he has proven to be unreliable, uncooperative, and disloyal to both our governments . . . The war is so urgent and our military operations so serious and fraught with danger that we cannot have them menaced any longer by de Gaulle.’ Kersaudy (1981), p. 288.
478 All details from Quellien (2003), pp. 13–9.
479 There were protests in Lyons, organized jointly by the Resistance movements, the underground trade union Mouvement Ouvrier Français, the Front National and the Communist Party. At the Ouillins railway depot a hundred railway workers were arrested after refusing to be conscripted. After a series of demonstrations and the organization of a strike committee, the imprisoned workers were released. These pro
tests continued into 1943, spreading all over the country. At the beginning of January in Montluçon, a small town in the middle of France, around 6,000 people – many of them workers from the local Sagem engineering plant – gathered at the station and surged on to the platform to stop a trainload of conscripted workers from leaving for Germany. Although the police managed to get the train out of the station, despite a hail of stones thrown by the demonstrators, railway workers then blocked its passage and it had to return to the station. The Wehrmacht were called in and the train eventually left, but not before many of the workers had escaped. Most of the escapees were arrested the next day and sent off to Germany. Quellien (2003), pp. 35–6.
480 Kedward (1993), p. 19.
481 Kedward (1993), p. 40. This was also the view of the young Daniel Cordier, who telegrammed Moulin in London on 4 March, warning him that ‘INTENSIVE DEPORTATION OF YOUNG MEN AND WORKERS TO GERMANY . . . THREATENS DESTRUCTION OF MOVEMENTS IN NOZ AND OZ AND OF SECRET ARMY’ (Cordier, 1999, p. 322).
482 Cordier (1999), p. 322.
483 The exact details of this first group remain unclear. Kedward (1993), pp. 26-30, provides a balanced account based on what documentary evidence exists. Baynac (2007), pp. 568–71, implies that the Haute-Savoie ‘maquis’ was very short-lived and was exaggerated by the Swiss press.
484 French historians and résistants have squabbled over this episode. Passy (1951), p. 72, claimed that six British planes were sent and were met over the drop spot by anti-aircraft fire that downed three of them. He implies (with no evidence) that this might have been due to imprudence by Pascal Copeau (whom Passy detested). This version has been repeated in many subsequent works. Baynac (2007) uses evidence from both the Swiss press and, more convincingly, the British archives to suggest that no planes were shot down, and indeed that bad weather prevented the planes from dropping their supplies. That was certainly what Churchill wrote in a draft letter to de Gaulle on 18 March 1943 (Baynac, 2007, p. 571).
485 Kedward (1993), p. 30.
486 Kersaudy (1981), p. 243.
487 In truth, Moulin’s main ‘victim’ was the Communist Party – not only did he cut off all funding to the FTP in April (they had previously been funded by Rémy, then Passy), he also refused to fund the Front National. Although this caused a row in London when Grenier complained, there was no change in Moulin’s policy. Cordier (1999), pp. 335–6, provides a personal account of this crisis. Intensely embarrassed, he had to explain the situation to Joseph. Moulin’s clear discrimination against the Communists is difficult to explain if, as some have argued, he was a Stalinist agent.
488 Cordier (1999), p. 357.
489 Frenay’s letter read: ‘if we arrived at such an extreme situation, which I do not wish for, but which I must envisage, we would retain the main forces of Planchon [the Resistance] in particular those involved in immediate action and the SA [Secret Army].’ Cordier (1999), p. 359.
490 Delestraint made incredibly detailed logistical demands to London: 15,000 kilogrammes of vaseline in 20-gramme tins, 17,514 torches and batteries, 119,096 bandages, 142,614 rucksacks, etc. (Baynac, 2007, p. 563). Baynac astutely points out that this career officer forgot one of the most important items of a soldier’s kit, especially in the mountains: boots.
491 Cordier (1999), p. 342.
492 Belot (2003), p. 331.
493 Cordier (1999), p. 343.
494 Frenay (1976), p. 190. For a lyrical description of Renouvin, see d’Aragon (1977), pp. 86–8.
495 De Bénouville (1945), pp. 336–8, contains scattered details of the attempt by Renouvin’s second-in-command, ‘Bastos’, to free him. The exact fate of Bastos and the other members of the commando sent northwards is not known, but they are all presumed to have been killed.
496 Noguères & Degliame-Fouché (1972), p. 322. See also SOE note ‘France. Free French arrests’ (28 July 1943), NA KV 6/24.
497 Chevrillon (1995), p. 103.
498 A detailed account of the arrests can be found in Baynac (2007), pp. 585–91.
499 Moulin (1982), p. 349.
500 Aubrac (1993), p. 80.
501 Closon (1974), pp. 95–6.
502 Guillin (1995), pp. 227–49.
503 Missika (2005), p. 278.
504 Cordier (1999), p. 445.
505 For more on Moog, see Noguères & Degliame-Fouché (1972), pp. 419–20. Moog disappeared at the end of the war, his crimes unpunished.
506 It seems probable that Hardy’s lover, Lydie Bastien, who was linked to the Gestapo, was involved. Péan (1999), pp. 7–18.
507 As the prisoners were taken away, Hardy managed to escape, although he was shot in the leg. Lucie Aubrac, convinced by his miraculous evasion that Hardy had betrayed the meeting to Barbie, sent him a poisoned pot of jam in hospital. Hardy, suspicious, did not eat it.
508 Pineau (1960), pp. 122–4. Cordier (1999), p. 471, is scornful, stating that although this story had been told for half a century, he attached little credit to it. This makes no sense, and Cordier gives the reader no reason not to believe Pineau’s account – it is hard to see what Pineau would gain by lying. A piece of strong corroborative evidence has been provided by Alya Aglan, who discovered in Pineau’s clandestine diary, written in semicode, the following entry for 24 June: ‘DESCENTE ESCALIER – 958 G – CONFIT. NOIX – RASAGE MALADE’ (‘Went down staircase – 958 G – jam[?], nuts – shaved sick person’). Aglan argues convincingly that ‘malade’ is an odd choice of term, which can be explained if the succession of the letters M and L was a code – perhaps subconscious – for ‘Moulin’ (Aglan, 2000).
509 For a pithy summary, see Veillon & Alary (2000).
CHAPTER 7
510 Guingouin (1974). Guingouin’s book of memoirs contains reproductions of official accounts of his exploits from both the police and the gendarmerie, underpinning the truth of his descriptions.
511 For a rich discussion of the relations between the rural population and the maquis, see Kedward (1993).
512 Paradoxically, despite the long-term Gestapo presence in the capital, the MUR leaders felt more secure there than in Lyons – many of them were originally from Paris, and the fact that they were not known there in their Resistance roles made it far safer. Bourdet (1975), pp. 239–40.
513 The problems caused by the historical leaders of the Resistance had long been recognized. In May, as tensions between Frenay and Moulin came close to breaking point, leading members of Libération plotted to get Frenay out of France. At the end of May François Copeau wrote to Emmanuel d’Astier: ‘In his rather outrageous manner, with which you are only too familiar, Raymond [Aubrac] went so far as to say that right now the greatest service we could render to the Resistance would be the elimination by any means necessary of a certain number of people, beginning with Gervais [Frenay] himself. That’s why we agreed, following your telegram calling Gervais to London, to ask to make sure that the absence of the leader of Combat should last as long as possible, and preferably be permanent.’ Letter from Copeau to d’Astier, June 1943, Cordier (1999), p. 423. Many years later Copeau claimed that Moulin was also involved in these discussions – given the problems with Frenay, it would hardly have been surprising: ‘To tell the truth, Max [Moulin] and I plotted quite a bit about eliminating the historical leaders, so that they could leave the second wave of leaders the possibility of working without carrying the weight of all the earlier conflicts.’ Belot (2003), p. 424. In French the verb ‘éliminer’ is as ambiguous as ‘eliminate’ in English: it can mean ‘remove’ or ‘kill’. However, there is no evidence that the latter interpretation was meant here.
514 The overall number of maquisards was estimated on 1–2 September 1943, when regional commanders of the maquis met in Lyons. See Marcot (1996), p. 218. The age and composition of the maquis is taken from Vigreux (1996), pp. 307–8.
515 This is the title of a chapter in Tillon (1972), p. 88.
516 Vistel (1970), p. 615.
517 Ruffin (1980), p. 37.
&
nbsp; 518 Guingouin (1974), pp. 74–82. A police map of the operation, drawn up by the gendarmes, is given on pp. 80–1. On his return to the maquis camp, Guingouin was stopped by a gendarme, whom he shot dead. The Wattelez plant has long since been closed, but the community is still dealing with industrial pollution from the site.
519 Taubmann (2004), pp. 80 and 82.
520 Kedward (1993), pp. 81.
521 Taubmann (2004), p. 82.
522 Guingouin (1974), p. 83. Fermigier’s family still lives in Bujaleuf. Martine Fermigier has a shoe and clothes shop in Eymoutiers.
523 Kedward (1993), p. 41.
524 Foot (1996), p. 229.
525 Foot (2004), pp. 421–3.
526 In fact 938 tons – 693 tons from the RAF (6,096 containers and 619 packages) and 73 tons from the USAAF (619 containers and 228 packages), with a further 172 tons arriving from the Mediterranean. This was far less than the amount sent to Tito’s guerrillas in Yugoslavia. Foot (2004), pp. 421–6, and Lorain (1983), pp. 110–1.
527 The Ratier plant is still there, and still producing military aircraft propellers. Its main client is now the European-owned company Airbus.
528 Noguères & Degliame-Fouché (1976), pp. 331–3, and Laborie (1980), p. 299. The main source used by Noguères was Cookridge (1966), pp. 330–1. ‘Cookridge’ was the pseudonym of Edward Spiro (1908–1979). Cookridge’s book on SOE contains no explicit references – at the time, SOE files were all closed, so Spiro consulted copies of the relevant documents in US and French archives. Foot (2004) provides an account that is similar to that of ‘Cookridge’ (Foot, 2004, pp. 333–4).
529 In May 1944 Yves Ouvrieu was caught in a Nazi ambush. He killed two Gestapo members and a French traitor before being killed himself (Cookridge, 1966, p. 331, n. 1).
