O’Flaherty’s link man in the American College was Monsignor Joseph McGeogh. US Government funds were channelled through Tittmann to aid the prisoners in hiding there. Initially Tittmann took the view that the American operation would be independent but as the months went by he soon found that he had to rely more and more on O’Flaherty and the care of American escapees was handled in the same way as all the other Allies. Mother Mary in her diary charted the changing circumstances in the city:
More and more people are hiding, moving their lodgings or taking to the hills. It is still warm and mild, and the allies are expected here shortly – but suppose they delay. The people in the hills will die of hunger and exposure.5
(Mother Mary St Luke, 21 September 1943)
We are burying our valuables, having a nice little garden which will afford scope for such activities. We buried them darkly, after supper, aided by a small electric torch until somebody said: ‘Douse the glim’ for fear of neighbours watching us.6
(Mother Mary St Luke, 23 September 1943)
All men born in 1921, ’22, ’23, ‘24 and ’25 are called up for ‘labour service’ which means they will either be taken to Germany or be put to building and repairing roads and digging trenches for the Germans in Italy; they are to present themselves at the Labour Office at once. Of course, no one intends to do so … The Fascists are coming forward in the pose of saviours of the people saying that they are ‘the buffer between the Germans and the populace’. They have re-established the headquarters of the Roman Group, the Fascio Romano at Palazzo Braschi … Some truculent looking youths with black shirts and rifles were lounging in the doorway today when I passed there, and the bunting was all hanging down, disconsolately in the September drizzle. The press says ‘The old Fascist offices are in full activity, combatants, Party members and the Roman people are all flocking to them’. There was very little flocking this morning.7
(Mother Mary St Luke, 24 September 1943)
More orders have been published, with added emphasis, that those called up for labour service MUST present themselves at once. So far, out of the three thousand who should have joined up in the City of Rome, sixty have put in an appearance.8
(Mother Mary St Luke, 27 September 1943)
We are constantly asked to suggest possible hiding places for the men who are trying to escape from military and labour service with the Germans. Everyone seems to be in hiding. Some of the Germans are deserting and trying to hide also; they are mainly Austrians. The common soldiers are sick and tired of the war but not the officers.9
(Mother Mary St Luke, 3 October 1943)
The ordinary routine detail of daily life was also becoming difficult:
Almost all shops and cafes are closed as they have no stock. All motor vehicles including taxis and buses as well as horses and mules have been requisitioned. Thousands of young men have fled to the hills to escape conscription.10
(MacWhite, 9 October 1943)
In July 1938, the Mussolini Government had published its ‘Manifesto of the Race’ in which Italian Jews were referred to as ‘unassimilable aliens’. This was followed by the introduction of a number of anti-Jewish laws and regulations. They first made it illegal for Jews to study or teach in any Italian school or university and ensured that books written by Jewish authors were removed from all libraries. Hundreds of Jews were sacked from their jobs in various branches of the Civil Service, the universities and other professions. As it happens, the Jewish community in Rome had made a huge contribution to its intellectual life. Many of its leading university professors were Jewish and approximately 100 of these lost their occupations as a result. It was also required that all non-Italian-born Jews should leave the country. This particular requirement had not been implemented in the intervening years. However, during the summer and autumn of 1943, the Jewish community became a particular target for the increasingly strong German authorities.
Von Weizsaecker, the German Ambassador, and his second-in-command Kessel, who was fairly outspoken in his anti-Nazi views, met in mid-September to discuss the likely fate of the Jews living in Rome. They agreed that the outlook was extremely serious and they arranged to warn the Jewish community through a third party. The Swiss journalist de Wyss notes ‘hundreds of rumours about the coming persecutions … the population is half crazy… Everybody is in a cold sweat.’11
Unfortunately, the leaders of the 12,000-strong Jewish community in the city treated this warning and these rumours with some scepticism. The Jewish community in Rome had not suffered the same sort of persecution as had occurred elsewhere which created a false sense of security. However, the diplomats’ concern was well founded. Himmler had issued an instruction to Kappler, the Head of the Gestapo in the city, to proceed with the arrest and deportation of the Jews of Rome. There is some evidence that Kappler was not happy to receive this instruction, not for reasons of sympathy with the Jewish community, but because he felt it was a politically stupid step to take. Also, he doubted whether he had enough men available to him to carry out this exercise and he anticipated that the non-Jewish population would be very hostile to such action. However, he did meet the leaders of the Jewish community on 26 September and demanded 50 kg of gold. They were given 36 hours to raise this and told that if they were not successful 200 Jews would be deported to Germany. This may have been Kappler’s way of circumventing Himmler’s instruction but it clearly left the leaders of the community with a difficulty. By Tuesday 28 September the gold had been collected with assistance from the Vatican on the instructions of the Pope. The gold was transmitted to Berlin. However, the authorities in Berlin were not happy and orders were issued that their original instructions must be implemented. Plans were put in place to round up Jews on 16 October starting at 5.00 a. m., one hour before sunrise. Ultra intercepts recently released make it clear that the Allies were well informed about what was happening because Kappler’s report, made around midnight on that day, of the actions he had taken, came into Allied possession immediately:
Action against Jews started and finished today in accordance with a plan worked out as well as possible by the office … Participation of the Italian police was not possible in view of unreliability in this respect, as only possible by individual arrests in quick succession inside the 26 action districts. To cordon off whole blocks of streets, in view both of [Rome’s] character as an open city and of the insufficient number of German police 365 in all, not practicable. In spite of this 1,259 persons were arrested in Jewish homes, and taken to assembly camp[s] of the military school here in the course of the action which lasted from 0530 to 1400 hours. After the release of those of mixed blood, of foreigners including a Vatican citizen, of the families in mixed marriages including the Jewish partner, and of Aryan servants and lodgers there remain 1,002 Jews to be detained.12
Kappler further reported that the attitude of the Italian population was one of passive resistance but noted that a large number of instances had occurred where members of the community made more active efforts on behalf of their Jewish neighbours. On Monday 18 October the captured Jews were sent to concentration camps in Germany. Mother Mary comments:
The SS are doing exactly what one expected, and at 4.30 a. m. today began to round up the Jews in their own houses. The Rabbi did not destroy his registers and they know where every Jew lives … it is a nameless horror.13
(Mother Mary St Luke, 17 October 1943)
This appalling episode obviously had an effect on the attitudes of the local people and immediately led to an increase in the level of activity by the resistance movement. In response to this, a new group was set up by the authorities under the leadership of a half-German/half-Italian called Pietro Koch who took charge of a group known as the ‘special police unit’ which became the most ruthless and effective anti-partisan Fascist organisation in Rome.
5
Sam Derry
The demands on the Council of Three and their helpers were increasing by the day. At the same time, the secur
ity situation in Rome was becoming tighter. It became clear to the three and indeed to D’Arcy Osborne who was their ‘off the record’ adviser that some additional organisational skills were needed to ensure the continued effectiveness of the escape line. In effect, they needed a Chief of Staff. As happened so often with O’Flaherty, just when he needed assistance an opportunity presented itself. Sam Derry was a member of the Royal Artillery. He had been one of the thousands who escaped at Dunkirk and had been subsequently transferred to North Africa where he found himself captured at the beginning of 1942. He managed to make an escape on that occasion but was captured again – ironically by the same German unit – the following July. He was subsequently imprisoned in the Chieti Camp in Italy. He was not long there when he was invited to join the escape committee. In the spring of 1943, there had been a leak of information to the authorities in the camp and a lot of senior people who were members of the escape committee were removed to another camp. As a result, Derry, although not long there and fairly junior, ended up in charge of the escape committee and very soon there were no fewer than six escape tunnels under construction. Whenever one was discovered, another was started. Soon he was moved also. However, before he left Chieti he had organised a number of successful escapes for colleagues.
Derry had guessed correctly that Sulmona, the new prisoner-of-war camp he had been moved to, was only a staging post and that ultimately he and his colleagues would be transferred to Germany. Accordingly, he was not too surprised when a number, including himself, were ordered to march to the railway station. On the journey through northern Italy he managed to jump from the train, on the spur of the moment, and make his escape. Escapes like this were quite common during the War but obviously were fairly hazardous. Aside from the risk of being shot by the guards when jumping off the train, there was the danger of serious or fatal injury in the fall. In any event, Derry survived and eventually located a peasant smallholding that he kept under observation the following day. He realised his only hope was to throw himself on the mercy of the occupants who were an elderly couple with no English. Derry had very little Italian. However, by a judicious use of the odd word and plenty of sign language, it became clear they were willing to accommodate him and he spent the night in their barn. At this stage, he had no idea where in Italy he was but the next morning, surveying the scene, he realised he was within sight of Rome. On that day also, his host managed to make it clear to him that there were others like him in the general locality and at nightfall two local youths came to him and guided him to a warren of caves where he met a group of his fellow countrymen who were being assisted by the locals. While they were being fed and protected by the locals, it was obvious to Derry that, with the onset of winter, living in the caves was not a realistic proposition and he decided he would have to seek assistance. When he went back the next night to meet the group he found that others had joined them and there were now about 50 British soldiers, 120 miles behind enemy lines. He decided that the only feasible plan was to head for Rome in the hope that he might be able to make contact with some British diplomat. Again, by a mixture of sign language and the odd Italian word he conveyed to the elderly couple who were looking after him that he wanted to meet the local priest. On meeting him, he asked the priest to arrange for a message to be conveyed to ‘anybody English in the Vatican’. He addressed a letter ‘to whom it may concern’ and signed it ‘S. I. Derry, Major’, and conveyed the fact that there was a group in urgent need of financial assistance and clothing. On the third day, the priest returned and handed over to Derry 3,000 lire (the equivalent of £12 at that time or over €600 in current terms). He had just one request, which was that the Major would provide a written acknowledgement that the money had been handed over. This the Englishman happily did, but in his written acknowledgement of the money he also requested more. Just four days later the priest returned again and handed over another 4,000 lire and this time requested Derry to meet the priest’s superior. When Derry asked who his superior was, the priest was evasive. Despite this, the Major decided that he had no choice. The priest arranged for a smallholder, named Pietro Fabri, who delivered vegetables to Rome two or three times a week, to pick up the Major early one November morning. The group consisted of Fabri, the Major and one of Fabri’s daughters. Before they reached the city boundary where there was a checkpoint, Fabri gestured to the Major to take cover and so he found himself under a pile of cabbages. The farmer was well known to the guards as a regular delivery man and so they passed through the checkpoint without any difficulty. Near the markets, Fabri brought the Major to a door, rang the bell and introduced him to a man named Pasqualino Perfetti. There was another man in the room by the name of Aldo Zambardi who informed Derry that he had been sent there to meet him. Less suspicious clothing was required for Derry which Zambardi provided, including his own overcoat.
I changed then and there, and the result was rather bizarre. The trousers flapped above my ankles, the coat did not reach my knees, and the little cap sat quaintly on the top of my head. However, the two Italians seemed satisfied with the transformation, so there was no reason why I should complain, and I set off with Zambardi down the street, knowing that at least I looked nothing whatever like an English Officer.1
The two then got on a tram and Derry obeyed Zambardi’s instructions to pretend to doze through the trip so as not to find himself drawn into conversation. Included among the passengers on the tram were some German and Fascist officers so Derry, as he said himself, tried to make himself small, no easy feat at six foot three. They alighted from the tram just beside the Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II, one of the bridges across the Tiber, and Derry enjoyed his first clear view of St Peter’s. He followed Zambardi, keeping his gaze firmly on the ground to avoid catching the eye of any of the German soldiers who were in the general area, as they approached St Peter’s Square. Soon he could see a very tall, lone figure in the Square wearing a long, black robe standing just outside the left-hand side of St Peter’s Basilica. Derry had a feeling that this priest was watching them, although he seemed to be in prayer. Zambardi led the Major straight up to the priest who immediately turned away with the instruction ‘Follow me – a short distance behind’ and all three proceeded without breaking step. However, Derry became alarmed when the priest, rather than lead them towards the Vatican where he thought he would be safe, walked away and into a narrow side street. After walking a couple of hundred yards they turned into a wide, arched entrance and crossed to a massive doorway on the far side. The inscription over the door was ‘Collegio Teutonicum’. Although his language skills were limited Derry knew he was heading into a German college. This, together with the turn away from the Vatican where he thought he was heading, caused him some alarm. However he had little choice but to follow on. On entering the building Derry returned the overcoat to Zambardi, who left them, and the priest led him up two steep flights of stairs along a corridor and into a small, sparsely furnished room which was divided by two long curtains. Derry was somewhat reassured to hear that this priest was the person who had sent on the money in response to his first request. In addition the offer of a nice warm bath – his first in a year and a half – was very welcome. When he returned to the room after taking his bath, it was unoccupied. Soon, a stocky, dark-haired, middle-aged man wearing a neat, black coat and pinstriped trousers entered and, in an accent containing a trace of cockney, addressed him: ‘Major Derry, I believe’. The Major still did not know who he was talking to when the priest arrived back in and he introduced the middle-aged man as John May and left again almost immediately.
I looked blankly at the man named John May and asked ‘does this go on all the time?’‘Pretty nearly’, he laughed, ‘he is an official of the Holy Office, and he has a little office downstairs, where people are in and out to see him all the time. Never seems to rest – but I expect you’ll get used to that, eventually. A wonderful character, the Monsignor.’ ‘The what?’ ‘Our Irish friend – the Right Reverend Monsignor Hugh O�
��Flaherty.’‘Oh dear’, I said, ‘that sounds dammed important and I have been calling him Father all this time …’‘Never mind’, said John May, ‘the Monsignor would be the last person to worry about that.’2
May brought the Major up to date on the situation in relation to the British diplomatic service in Rome and the Vatican, and then left. The Monsignor returned and lunch was served by two nuns who were obviously German. After they had left, Derry felt compelled to ask ‘Monsignor, are we in the Vatican?’ It was explained to him that they were not quite in the Vatican but were on papal property and, as such, the German College was part of the Vatican State as distinct from the Italian one. He was also reassured as to his safety for the time being, notwithstanding the fact that it was a German college. The Monsignor then left to return to his office to do some work but returned half an hour later with a young lady whom Derry described as ‘a staggeringly attractive brunette’ about nineteen years old who turned out to be Blon (Blánaid) Kiernan, the daughter of the Irish Minister. There followed some conversation between the trio and it became clear that the Monsignor and Miss Kiernan were good friends (and indeed the Monsignor was a regular guest at the Irish Legation). John May returned shortly after that with an invitation to the Major and the Monsignor to join the British Minister for dinner at the Legation that night. As it happened, the Monsignor and the Major were more or less the same build so early that evening the two men, both dressed as Monsignors, left the German College and proceeded by a slightly roundabout route into a four-storey building within the Vatican walls itself. ‘Not at all bad, me boy’, said the Monsignor approvingly, ‘you look more like a Monsignor than I do.’3
The Vatican Pimpernel Page 7
