Finally, one morning in early August, the call Virginia had not- so-patiently awaited finally arrived. Virginia was to meet Vera at noon at the Northumberland. When she arrived at the now familiar hotel room that served as Vera’s office, a pleasant looking, middle-aged gentleman was there as well.
Vera introduced him to Virginia as Selwyn Jepson, one of F Section’s right-hand men. The three of them sat around Vera’s desk with cups of tea and Jepson explained that it wasn’t just paperwork that had caused the delay in Virginia’s being sent to France. Jacques de Guélis had gone in a few weeks earlier, and, among other jobs, had set up contacts for Virginia and paved the way for her cover story. All was now in place and the time had come for her to take center stage.
She would go first to Vichy, Jepson told her. As soon as she arrived, she was to go to the American Embassy to officially register, and then do the same at the Vichy government headquarters. De Guélis had suggested she stay at the Hotel Thermalia on rue Jardet. Jepson told her to always ask for streetside rooms in hotels. It would enable her to observe who was coming and going, plus allow her to alert other agents that she was in by leaving something in plain view on the windowsill.
Her SOE assignment was not unlike what the newspaper was hoping to receive from her: reports on the general situation in France. The mentality, among both the French and the Nazis, what there were great stores of and what was lacking, was vital information to the British military.
A week or so after Virginia’s arrival in Vichy, Jepson told her she was to move on to Lyon, two hundred kilometers to the north. De Guélis recommended the Grand Nouvel Hotel in Lyon. There, she would serve as a human depot. All incoming agents would be instructed to contact her when they first arrived in the area. Virginia would inform them of conditions at the time and give them whatever assistance they required. London would make sure that she always had an ample supply of francs to fund their needs, and would send her off with a wad of cash as well. Although the money was printed in England, it all went through an extensive “dirtying” process to make it look as though it were well circulated. SOE expert forgers even went so far as to pin stacks of it together through the watermark with large hat pins, just as the French banks did.
In addition to finding hotels for her, de Guélis had also identified two Resistance sympathizers in Lyon who were prepared to assist her. From those two, she was to build a network. Jepson gave her a paper with their names and addresses, told her to memorize them, and then burn the paper. The contacts had been told to expect one Brigitte LeContre to contact them sometime in September. To confirm her identity when she met them, she was to say, “Je viens avec des nouvelles de Marie.” They would respond by saying, “Voulez-vous dire Marie Renard?”
It was a lot of information to take in all at once. Acting the part of another person would come easily for Virginia. After all, she’d been the star of many high school productions. But this wasn’t playacting. Would she be able to remember how to protect herself in an emergency? Could she maintain her cover under intense questioning or torture? Could she live a lie for months on end? Worrying about it at this point would do her no good, now or then.
She asked Jepson how she was to contact London with her reports. The lengthy ones he told her to send out with agents who would be moving through Vichy and Lyon. As she was the hub of the SOE wheel in that part of France, practically everyone would be in contact with her at one time or another. Shorter messages could be relayed via radio transmission. There would be a wireless operator in the area at her disposal.
And the most important thing, Jepson reminded her, was not to forget she had a carte blanche entry into the country because of her American citizenship. It was invaluable to the SOE and their work and they were willing to go to great lengths to protect it. Her job, he said, was not to fight the Germans, but to organize a Resistance network that would fight the Germans by any means possible.
Virginia wondered what she should do if she needed approval for anything, but Jepson waved her aside. They had faith in her keen sense of leadership and knew she possessed the resourcefulness to handle whatever came her way. She was her own boss, he said, she was to make the decisions. And she wasn’t to worry about doing things by the book. There was no book.
Virginia was filled with a fusion of emotions. There was a small amount of apprehension, of course, coupled with excitement, anticipation, and even a little pride at the fact that the work she would be doing could have an outcome on France’s future.
Vera slid a small box across the table to her, explaining that it was a token of their appreciation. Virginia opened the box and revealed a gold powder compact, inscribed with Bonne Chance (good luck). Jepson echoed the inscription and told her England was grateful for her service in its noble cause. And, he added, if she had to, she could always pawn the compact if she needed extra cash.
There were just a few more details Vera needed to complete Virginia’s paperwork. Correspondence with her mother was no problem. To the outside world, Virginia was a stringer on assignment with the paper. But if she was detained for any length of time, Vera asked, how did she want them to contact Mrs. Hall? And even more important, did she have a will?
In the confident way her colleagues at SOE had come to expect from her, Virginia told Vera to contact Mrs. Hall only in the case of her death. And since she wasn’t planning on that happening, there wasn’t really any need for a will. Her pay was already going to her mother and she didn’t own property anyway. Vera smiled and handed her the tickets for her ship to Lisbon, Portugal, and the train from there to Vichy. She would leave first thing in the morning.
Brigitte LeContre, code-named Germaine, arrived in Vichy, France, on Saturday, August 23, 1941. She was the first woman field agent the SOE had sent into France. Inside her dress, she wore two money belts, one over each hip, both heavily laden with her stash of counterfeit French currency. The money belts on top of the waistband connected to her wooden leg made her feel as though she’d suddenly taken on an additional ten pounds—a very precious ten pounds. The one million francs she carried would be used to build her Resistance unit, bribe those so inclined, and fund her own living expenses. Being caught with so much cash would mean a lot of answers to some very tough questions.
This was Virginia’s first visit to Vichy, a lovely town in the heart of France, sitting on the banks of the Allier River, three hours south of Paris and four hours north of the Spanish border. Virginia had read up on the town while she was still in London. Its curative sulphurous springs attracted thousands of aging and ailing visitors, or curistes, every year. Before the war, they had come to drink the water, wallow in it, inhale its steam, and be sprayed with it.
But a curtain of tension hung heavily in the former spa town now. It had been a ten-minute walk along the rue de Paris from the train station to the town’s center. Despite the bright summer sunlight, most passersby Virginia saw looked preoccupied and anxious. They spoke to their companions in hushed voices and none of them were smiling. Virginia’s first stop was the office of Ambassador William Leahy at the American Embassy.
The embassy was created almost immediately after the government had formed in Vichy. This act recognizing Vichy as a neutral, sovereign entity by the United States government mollified the majority of Americans who wanted to remain out of the war, continue to provide aid to Great Britain, and refrain from appeasing Hitler. But in addition to these political reasons, there was also the underlying feeling in America that France had been defeated because of her internal weaknesses. By recognizing Vichy—and allowing Gaston Henry-Haye to take up residence in Washington as Vichy ambassador—America sent a message of reproach to France.
Ambassador Leahy was not available when Virginia arrived at the embassy, but his clerk took all of her information and gave her directions to her next destination: the Vichy gendarmerie. Her first impression of the Vichy police was better than she expected it to be. She felt completely confident with her new ide
ntity and answered all of their polite questions as if it were information she’d been giving her entire life. They, in turn, were very solicitous to her, and appreciative of her adherence to their laws regarding the registration of all newly arrived foreigners. But neither their manners nor their smiles diminished her contempt for their collaboration with the Nazis.
When Pétain agreed to an armistice with Germany in 1940, it was with the understanding that some type of cooperation with the former enemy would be necessary for his État français to succeed. Pétain and his vice premier, Pierre Laval, believed that collaboration with Germany would ensure France a better place in Europe, the new German Europe, once Britain fell and the war ended. They hoped that it would bring a rapid return of the 1.6 million French prisoners of war taken to Germany, who were now really being held as hostages; that it would decrease the indemnity France was required to pay for the German army’s upkeep—four hundred million francs per day, the equivalent of nine million dollars. And finally they hoped that it would ensure the sovereignty of the occupied and unoccupied zones.
But the French people weren’t sure what to think. A sarcastic new slogan circulated in hushed voices across France, “Donne-moi ta montre, je te dirai l’heure” (Give me your watch, I’ll tell you the time.) It was a tongue-in-cheek criticism that the Nazis were taking everything, and giving very little in return.
Holding all this over the Vichy government’s head, Nazi Germany was easily able to force Pétain and Laval’s hands. The two men, of course, were quick to conceal this appearance of a puppet show, and were able in many cases to guess in advance what the Germans’ next demands would be. They then instituted new laws, making changes look as though they were their idea. Unfortunately, a great many of these new laws were at the expense of France’s Jewish population. The Statute des Juifs, which had passed on October 3,1940, pronounced Jews to be second-class citizens and limited all of their rights. It was a classic reaction.
The Vichy government told its citizenry that France was recovering and that they had done themselves a great disservice by trying to defeat Germany in the first place. The German presence in France was to be welcomed with open arms, because such collaboration would ensure that the Reich would take care of them in the future. For some, the promise of position and wealth after so many years of economic depression was too great a temptation. Renouncing a Jew or a Resistance member was such a small service to exchange for so much. And thus collaboration arrived in the homes of the common man and woman.
Virginia’s hotel on Rue Jardet was small but cozy and her room faced the street exactly as de Guélis had suggested. From her third-floor window, she was able to see quite a distance up and down the street and beyond. Her investigation of Vichy in those first few days revealed that the subject at the forefront of everyone’s mind was food, or more accurately, the lack thereof. The majority of France’s meat and produce, not to mention the wine and champagne, was going to the Nazis. Even tobacco was rationed: women were still unable to smoke and men were limited to two packs a day.
“Back in May there was plenty of butter on the Swiss border, much more than people could use or buy with their ration cards. But exportation was forbidden,” a man in a café confided in her. “Women were to be given an extra ration of sugar in June to preserve strawberries, but it didn’t arrive until July, long after the berries were gone. The wine growers needed chemicals to fight bugs in the vineyards, but the chemicals were so delayed that by the time they arrived, the bugs had spread and the grapes were ruined. Transportation and distribution has been as troublesome as the food shortages. If we continue down this road, what shortages are in store for us next year?”
Virginia also got a quick lesson in black market economics from her hotel’s owner. “I hear that many food dealers hold back quantities so they can sell them on the black market for greater profits. Black market commerce is dangerous, though. The police are stopping everyone who carries a package or basket and making them show proof of purchase. If they don’t have it or their package has more than their allotment… Poof! Off to jail! So the black market profiteers have gotten clever—they’re using school children, hollowing out their books and moving their contraband that way.” To make matters worse, black market prices were eight to ten times higher than they would have been in street markets, if the same foods were available.
It seemed obvious to Virginia that her first Post article, which appeared in the Thursday, September 4 issue, should address these matters of privation.
I received my ration card for the month of September today. As I understand it, I’m allowed 10 ounces of bread per day. Beyond that, my allotments for the month are as follows: 2 ounces of cheese, 25 ounces of fats, 20 ounces of sugar, 10 ounces of meat, and 6 ounces of coffee. And by coffee, they mean 2 ounces of real coffee and 4 ounces of some kind of substitute material.… No rice, noodles or chocolate are available during the month of September as these are reserved for the colder months.… France would be paradise for a vegetarian if there was milk, cheese and butter, but I haven’t seen any butter and there is no milk.
Shortly after she sent her article off to New York, Jacques de Guélis contacted Virginia and asked her to join him at a Vichy café. He told her he was returning to chez nous soon. Agents never mentioned the word England, but simply referred to it in French as “our place.” Virginia handed de Guélis a sealed envelope, which, once decoded in London, would reveal her observations about the Vichy government, the police activity, and the overall climate regarding resistance.
They discussed in guarded language what they both agreed was great potential for the Resistance, as well as what appeared to be a new French attitude toward the British. Those who embraced the British were saying, “If only the English win,” while those who still weren’t fans were saying, “If only the goddamned English would win.”
Next they talked about Blacktown, SOE’s codename for Lyon. Virginia told him she was headed that way on Saturday and assured him she had memorized the names and addresses of his friends there. De Guélis wished her luck and left. He would begin his trip back to England and hoped to be home by the time Virginia arrived in Lyon.
Lyon was the largest city in the unoccupied zone and was an important rail and industrial center. It was built around the meeting place of two large French rivers, the Rhône and the Saône. The city’s center was a narrow strip of land that lay between the two rivers and on it were the main square, Place Bellecour, and many of the major hotels, including the Grand Nouvel, which Virginia would call home.
The trip from Vichy had taken just over two hours and she arrived midmorning. She took the tram from the railway station, the Gare de Perrache, to the hotel at 11 rue Grolée. She registered as Brigitte LeContre for a room facing the street and lugged her valise up to the third floor. She freshened up and left the hotel to contact the man Jacques had felt would be her best ally in Lyon, gynecologist Dr. Jean Rousset.
Rousset’s home and office was at 7 place Antonin Poncer. She gave the man who answered the door her pass phrase, “Je viens avec des nouvelles de Marie.” He looked at her closely and asked, “ Voulez-vous dire Marie Renard?’ He smiled then and told her how glad he was to finally meet her. He was a middle-aged man of slight build with round, horned-rimmed glasses and a pleasant face. He had been very busy since de Guélis had left, he said, and had made the acquaintance of several individuals who were eagerly waiting to help the cause.
Virginia became instinctively cautious. Falling into a trap so early in the game would not only be potentially hazardous, it would be embarrassing. She asked Rousset about their trustworthiness. His answer was reassuring. He had known these people since they were all petits, he said. It would not be difficult for him to determine if they were lying. And these friends, in turn, had recommended others, although Rousset deferred to Virginia to make the final determination about them.
Virginia wondered what skills this man thought she possessed that would a
llow her to see into the souls of others. She was a good judge of character, but in this arena it was vital that she judge carefully. Nonetheless, she was anxious to meet them. Rousset suggested they all meet at the Café de la République on rue de la République that evening for dinner around 7:30. The group would consist of his longtime friend Robert, who lived near the restaurant, and M. and Mme Joulian, who lived a few streets over.
Virginia told him she knew the restaurant and that the time and place would work for her and then asked him if he would be willing to make his office available as a letter box. Having somewhere that they could leave written messages for one another was one of the first things they would need.
Her timid approach at asking about his willingness of involvement amused Rousset, and he asked her if she thought that resistance was something only recently invented in England. Many Frenchmen, he told her, had thought of nothing else for months. They were devoted to freeing their country of invaders and collaborators and they wanted liberation at all costs. He was, he said, grateful that she was willing to risk danger in the same cause and he put himself and his office at her disposal.
Virginia was delighted to find such a gem of a man. De Guélis must have recognized all of the same characteristics. After she left Rousset’s, she took the rest of the afternoon to explore Lyon. It was about four times the size of Vichy, and dominated by two hills. Atop one sat a beautiful basilica. The other hill was home to many of the city’s famous silk shops. But despite the picturesque setting, the city’s inhabitants closely resembled those of Vichy. Everyone she passed appeared to be guarded, looking straight ahead with a somber fixation. Children peeked out from behind their parents, seemingly sensing that all was not right with their world.
Virginia found the Café de la République with no problem that evening and arrived just as Rousset did. He led her to a table where a tall man had waved them over. Already seated with him was a middle-aged couple. The three smiled at her and shook her hand when Rousset introduced her. It was a jour sans alcool, a day when no alcohol was allowed, yet one more of the inconvenient rationings plaguing the country. Sweet aperitifs were allowed, however: grenache, banyuls, or muscat. They each ordered their favorite and began to size one another up.
The Wolves at the Door: The True Story of America's Greatest Female Spy Page 10
