Robert Le Provost was the tall, lanky chap who had waved. He appeared to be in his midthirties. His face had a sad appearance, even when he smiled. He told Virginia that he had worked for the French Service des Renseignments (Information Bureau) for fifteen years. He finished his monologue by telling her that his father had owned a small fishing company in Marseille and that he therefore had quite a few friends in the south of France. Virginia wasn’t sure whether Le Provost was trying to assure her that he was congenial despite his cheerless countenance, or that she might find his friends interesting.
The middle-aged couple, M. and Mme Joulian, were the exact opposite of Le Provost. They were short, round, and jolly. They owned a small factory that produced pots and pans, they told Virginia. They had never had any children and so both worked long hours in the factory.
For her part, Virginia explained that she was in France as a stringer for the New York Post. No one flinched at that statement and Virginia wondered if Rousset had told them what her real purpose was in France. When the waiter appeared with large menus, they all began reading. Lyon was famous for its cuisine, but Virginia expected little. Amazingly, everything on the menu was marked as available. She asked her companions why.
Rousset explained that they were in a black market restaurant and that the owner, also their waiter, was an old friend, and a Resistance sympathizer. They could order anything they wanted, regardless of what food coupons they had available. If, however, someone came in without a connection, they’d get a pretty meager meal.
When the owner returned for their orders, Rousset introduced him to Virginia and told him Mile LeContre was a very good friend and needed to be taken care of. The man smiled broadly and said cryptically that friends were important in times like these.
As soon as the ordering was completed, Le Provost told Virginia quietly that one of “her” pilots was living at his house. She gathered he assumed from her accent that she was British. The pilot had been shot down, was uninjured, and was anxious to return home. He asked her if she could help, saying he had connections in Marseille to get him out, but needed money in order to pay for the transportation.
Virginia was taken aback. The conversation had turned serious so quickly. Le Provost had evidently developed an immediate confidence in her and was willing to take Rousset’s word for it that she was the genuine article. She asked him if the pilot had false identification papers and ration cards. He didn’t, but Le Provost had a friend who worked in the Food Office and could get ration cards. Another friend printed identification documents all day long for the Vichy government and would be happy to oblige them with what they needed. All it took was the right number of francs.
It was incredible. The underpinnings of a strong Resistance circuit were being presented to Virginia on a platter along with the excellent French cuisine. Greased with the cash she had brought from England, the wheels of resistance could begin to turn immediately.
Virginia told Le Provost they could get to work on the project right away. The pilot would have valuable information that would no doubt help them down the road. Everything learned from that moment forward would build the foundation for the future.
The five of them next discussed how the Joulians’ factory would come into play. M. Joulian enthusiastically told Virginia they would be able to keep her up to date on the availability of strategic materials, things that would not seem uncommon for them to inquire about. From there, they could guess how much the Germans were getting and what was running in short supply. Mme Joulian interrupted him to say that their home would be open to anyone who needed it.
Virginia cautioned them about communication. She explained the value of using Rousset’s office as a letter box. And she told them they would need to use code words occasionally. Anyone passing through their homes would be referred to as “brothers.” And they were being sent to chez nous. By the time her first dinner in Lyon came to an end, Virginia felt as though she had forged a wonderful group of allies.
The next morning, Virginia contacted the other name de Guélis had recommended, Mme Germaine Guérin, whose address was not far from the hotel. Jacques had been accurate in identifying Rousset as a sound aide in their work. Virginia hoped that his second suggestion panned out as well.
A maid answered the door, and Virginia gave her name. The maid left for a moment, then returned to ask Virginia to follow her. The apartment was beautifully appointed with rugs and artwork. The furniture was lavish and the draperies were yards of fine silk. Mme Guérin was seated in a drawing room sipping a café au lait.
Virginia gave her the pass phrase as soon as she entered the room. Mme Guérin responded and once the maid left told Virginia how glad she was that she had finally arrived. The woman was fiftyish, with blue-black hair swept up in a twist. She wore a morning coat as sumptuous as her surroundings and already had on an ample coat of rouge and lipstick.
Virginia thanked her for the welcome and accepted the café she offered. It was real coffee with real milk. And it was wonderful after several weeks of consuming the brown liquid that had replaced the authentic brew. The café national, as it was called, was one quarter coffee to three quarters ground acorns.
Mme Guérin told Virginia that the only thing she knew about her was what she had been told by the gentleman who’d stopped by some weeks earlier. He said that Virginia was an American journalist in France to collect money to help General de Gaulle. She was a Gaullist to the end and was happy to help however she could. Virginia thanked her and told her there may also be a need for used clothing and extra food in the future. Would she be willing to donate those as well?
Mme Guérin agreed immediately, telling Virginia that one of her hobbies was finding things for those in need through her black market contacts. In addition, through her business of providing comfort to others, she said her employees were occasionally made privy to information. She would be happy to pass that along as well if Virginia thought it might be of help.
Virginia was confused about where the information would come from, and Mme Guérin explained that her clients, many of them Vichy officials, sought out girls of the right beauty and class. And those were the only kind she employed.
A light went on for Virginia. Mme Guérin was the proprietress of a brothel. But her vocation was of no concern. Virginia felt confident that the woman was sincere and accepted her offer graciously. Furthermore, she was willing to work with Virginia without knowing any additional details about her than she already did. That would work to her favor if she were ever questioned about Virginia. She wouldn’t be able to give any more information than she herself had been given.
Virginia’s second article for the Post appeared a few weeks later in October 1941. It was titled “Odd Bits,” its humorous tone quite a contrast to the seriousness of Virginia’s real mission in Lyon.
The war has caused most of the people in France to change their ways and customs in greater or lesser degree. Everybody eats less than before, of course; most people wear less. The most honest have their little peccadillos now-a-days about getting a piece of cheese without tickets, or a pair of socks on the black market. Whether morals will snap back once the situation returns to normal or not is the question. For the present, practically everyone is cherishing and condoning dishonesty in some degree….
Everyone mops these days so that not a drop of good sauce escapes. … The more uncouth take a large chunk of bread in their fingers and go to it with vim … sopping and rubbing until the plate is clean. I foresee that the ordinary glaze (on the plate) is not going to be able to withstand such onslaughts. … Once the glaze is gone it would not take long to mop a hole clean through to the other side. So I foresee new life in the ceramic industry, the end of cheap pottery and china.
Then there’s the question of fishing. … It has changed from a sport to a means to an end. The end being dinner—God willing. …. I was fascinated by a cheery gent with a cherry nose, a very bright eye and a lively t
ongue who spread at his feet on the platform by the side of the [tram] car some black moist earth on newspapers. “Worms, worms,” he cried. “Nice, fine, dainty worms, come and get ’em.” And they did! … One old chap got in the car, sat down ahead of me, looked out the window at the worm man for a bit, then couldn’t bear it any longer and out he went. He came back with a most stained little bundle of black earth and red “dainty” worms. Another fisherman across the aisle engaged him in conversation. “Fine but solid—that’s the secret of fishing. They’re fine ones too, and hard to get now.” (Do even worms disappear with the occupation?)
Virginia’s November 24 article was of an entirely different nature, painting a clear picture of the ever-tightening noose the Nazis and the collaborators were throwing around the necks of all French Jews. It was titled “Vichy Bars Stock to Jews: Further Economic Bans Expected.”
A law forbidding acquisition of stock by Jews without special permission has just been passed…. Jews are not permitted to be bankers, stockbrokers, publicity agents, merchants, real estate agents or owners, owners of gambling concessions, nor are they allowed to earn a living by working in the theatre, movies or for the press. … The Lyon regional office of the General Jewish Commissariat announced on Friday the placing of 36 Jewish enterprises under temporary administration. This means that “Aryans” have been appointed to direct the firms until sale or other liquidation. … Among the firms dealt with are banks, movie companies, textile, gas and iron companies and one newspaper.
9
Resistance Is Born
As Dr. Rousset had pointed out to Virginia in their first meeting, the seeds of resistance were alive in some French people from the very moment Pétain’s government capitulated. They preferred death to accepting German domination. In fact, according to SOE estimates, only one French citizen in one hundred was ready to resist in 1940. Those who felt the fire were united in their belief that Nazi ideology was depraved, but they operated informally and in small groups with no long-term strategy.
The groups began with modest gestures of resistance. They furtively affixed posters to city buildings calling for others to resist. They redirected freight cars loaded with supplies for Germany. They sabotaged German equipment and vehicles.
Passive resistance existed, too. In an attempt to delay production of goods needed by the German army, workers carried out their tasks as slowly as possible and employers observed the last letter of the complicated bureaucratic regulations.
The groups’ membership had no age or gender biases. From young women, their faces hidden by umbrellas, to aged men feigning blindness, the few did what they could to hamper the invaders and encourage others to join them. Retribution by the Nazis against those who were captured was swift and sure: execution, with a recognizable red and black public notice containing a photograph of the dead.
One of the earliest organized groups in Paris grew from a group of scientists and lawyers. They called themselves the Musée de l’Homme (Museum of Mankind). These brave men published an anti-Nazi newspaper, helped downed RAF pilots, and were even able to make contact with the SOE in London. But mere months after development, their ranks were infiltrated by a Vichy agent. The entire group was arrested and most were executed by firing squad. As he was about to die, one of the resisters screamed at his Vichy executioners, “Imbeciles, it’s for you, too, that I die!”
In the zone libre, organized resistance took root in Lyon. The city had always had a political bent, and a handful of individuals took it upon themselves to counteract the propaganda being spread by the Vichy-controlled radio and newspapers. In 1940, Henri Frenay, a former French army officer, organized the Libération Nationale in Lyon and oversaw the publication of two papers, Les Petites Ailes (Little Wings) and Vérité (Truth) in early 1941.
At the same time, Émmanuel d’Astier formed a group of left-wing saboteurs in Lyon that became known as the Libération-sud (Liberation South). The publication of the group’s paper, Libération, debuted in July 1941. A third Resistance newspaper appeared in Lyon as well, titled Franc-Tireur (Sniper), which was published by Jewish lawyer Jean-Pierre Lévy.
The publishers all had to beg, borrow, or steal ink, paper, and presses to create their newspapers. Once they were printed, they were sealed in plain envelopes and hand-delivered to sympathetic individuals, especially those who would be in contact with the public, such as doctors and priests. And, of course, being caught in possession of one of these periodicals was considered an absolute crime. The guilty were hustled off to jail, where they were first beaten in an effort to gain information about other Resistance members, then sent to a prison camp.
Lyon’s underground newspapers gradually drew their readers into a single group with common goals: reclamation of their country and their dignity. They had great faith in their ideals, and for many, dying seemed but a small price to pay. The groups were divided into cells, or circuits, for greater security. If Vichy or the Nazis infiltrated one circuit, the entire operation would not have to shut down. They met where and when they could, making use of the hidden passageways in Lyon, the traboules, as a means of escape when pursued by Vichy authorities. The traboules connected the buildings of old Lyon and had been created by the city’s early inhabitants as shortcuts to the river for water. In the dark days of the early 1940s, they became blessed sanctuaries for Resistance members.
With Virginia’s arrival in Lyon signaling the promise of Allied help for their cause, those who were willing to risk all came gladly out of the shadows. And, as a cavalcade of agents arrived from Baker Street, bringing with them cash, radio transmitters, and training, the French Resistance became a self-assured force to be reckoned with.
One day, a month and a half after Virginia’s arrival in Lyon, Le Provost showed her a notice that had run in that day’s Vichy newspaper. The notice, from General von Stulpnagel, the military governor in Paris, had been published in the capital’s newspaper the day before.
Notice: any male person directly or indirectly helping the crew of enemy aircraft landed by parachute or having effected a forced landing, or assisting in their evasion, or hiding or helping them in any way whatever, will be shot immediately.
Women guilty of the same offence will be deported to concentration camps in Germany.
Any persons seizing crew members having effected a forced landing or descended by parachute, or who, by their attitude, contribute to their capture, will receive a reward of up to 10,000 Francs. In some special cases the reward will be even higher.
Le Provost had heard via the Resistance grapevine that the Vichy government had already announced it would follow a similar path with regard to downed airmen. The gendarmes and the collaborators would be eager to turn in whomever they could to get their hands on the money and the prestige, Le Provost told Virginia. His guess was that many of Vichy’s pseudo officials were men who had been picked on when they were petit. Now they had been given positions of power and could potentially receive big favors from the Nazis if they turned over a member of the Resistance or a Jew. And there was double the reward for someone who was both. The man after whom all the other Vichy officials had patterned themselves, Le Provost said, was Secretary General René Bousquet.
Bousquet supervised the Vichy gendarmerie. In 1930, he had become a national celebrity at the age of twenty when he helped in rescue efforts during a flood near Toulouse in southern France. The next year he went to work in a government office and remained there after the armistice between Pétain and the Germans.
Gradually, the positive Jewish presence was removed from the public eye. Jewish actors’ and directors’ names were erased from the credits of French films. Most pre-Nazi films were melted down, the remains made into nail polish and shoe polish. Replacing them in the cinemas were overt, anti-Jewish propaganda films, some made solely by the Nazis and others a collaboration of the Germans and Vichy. Such was the case of the documentary The Jewish Peril. “The Jew is like a rat,” the f
ilm proclaimed. “He is sly and cruel. He feels the irresistible need to destroy. The Jews’ power lies in their superior numbers and, like proliferating rats, they are a danger to human health.”
Anti-Semitism, it appeared, was one of the ominous common bonds between the German conquerors and the spineless Vichy government. It was accompanied by anti-Communism and good old-fashioned self-interest.
By late November 1941, Virginia was performing a juggling act as she continued to establish Resistance contacts, help downed British pilots, and welcome newly arrived SOE agents from England. But unlike keeping mere circus balls in the air, there were deadly consequences should any one of these drop.
Dr. Rousset’s office was being used regularly as a letter box where agents and Resistance members could drop off and pick up communiqués to one another. Mme Guérin’s promise of money, food, and clothing had proven to be better than Virginia expected. The woman still had not asked her about the destination of the donations, although she had made numerous comments regarding the Resistance to which Virginia would simply smile. And the information that her “girls” gleaned from their clients kept them all aware of Vichy surveillance of particular areas and persons. With the help of Le Provost’s friends in the printing offices, Virginia was not only able to supply papers to those in need in France, she was also able to send out current samples of ration books and cartes d’identité (identity cards) with agents returning to England. The appearance of these documents changed regularly and it was crucial that incoming agents have exact forgeries.
The Wolves at the Door: The True Story of America's Greatest Female Spy Page 11
