They were not the only ones taking action before dawn. Police General Hary took control of the Garde Republicaine, the Garde Mobile, the Gendarmerie and the city’s fire fighters. Accompanied by Marcel Flouret, de Gaulle’s new Prefect of the Department of the Seine, Hary seized the large Gendarmerie building at 53 Boulevard de Latour Maubourg, west of Les Invalides. All personnel with collabo sympathies were confined to barracks. The remainder, by agreement with Parodi (and subsequently with Rol-Tanguy)* protected government buildings until the Resistance and GPRF arrived. An undersung character in 1944’s Paris drama, General Hary paid lip service to Vichy while maintaining links to the Resistance. He controlled the guards of the Matignon, where the departing Laval recognised their underlying sympathies.7
19 August 1944
SHORTLY AFTER DAWN, Fournet, Lamboley and Pierre arrived by bicycle on the Parvis of Notre Dame. Policemen queued as rifles and submachine-guns were handed down from a lorry. Then they banged on the Préfecture’s big east gate.
“What’s all this?” asked Georges Valette, opening the heavy arched gate before his comrades.
“Don’t you understand? It’s the Resistance,” replied a policeman, pushing past, letting his colleagues into the courtyard. A large, freshly laundered Tricolore was run up the flagpole as Fournet’s men belted out the Marseillaise. Informed by Godard de Donville that Gaulliste policemen were massed outside, Amedée Bussière—still in his pyjamas—looked out from his window and said, “But it’s a revolution.” Recovering his self-possession, Bussière asked Fournet to send him a delegation. But Fournet’s followers intended something more assertive; breezing into Bussière’s apartment, they told him they controlled the Préfecture.
“One must be reasonable, my children,” said Bussière.
Though widely reckoned a bon bougre (decent man) Bussière was overtaken by events.
“Consider,” continued Bussière, “the Germans could be here within a quarter of an hour. I would happily negotiate with them and do whatever I can, but this is folly.”
Bussière and other senior police officers were placed under house arrest. Fournet’s men were delighted to arrest Commissioner Rotté, director of police intelligence, who collaborated with the Gestapo; he would later be shot. But Commissioner Hennequin—another collabo, dismissed by Bussière five days before—escaped.
When Yves Bayet arrived in the courtyard, he mounted a box before hundreds of policemen wearing FFI armbands instead of uniforms, and announced, “In the name of General de Gaulle and the provisional government of the Republic of France, I take possession of the Préfecture of Police.”
Bayet joined Fournet in Bussière’s suite, introducing himself by his nom de guerre, “Jean-Marie Boucher, secretary general of the Préfecture de Police.”
“What?” asked Bussière.
“There it is,” replied Bayet.
Not being devoid of patriotism, Bussière offered to man the telephone in case the Germans called.
“Excellent idea!” replied Bayet.8
Bayet then bicycled towards the Latin Quarter. After convoluted precautions familiar to clandestins, Bayet approached the corner of the Rue du Dragon and nodded at André Godin who waited in a dark limousine bearing a discreet Tricolore cockade, then cycled on towards Danton’s statue at the Odeon crossroads, to meet Charles Luizet.
“Monsieur le Préfet,” Bayet said. “The Prefecture has been taken and at your command.”
Luizet smiled.
“Your car is waiting,” said Bayet, nodding towards Godin’s limousine which was now guarded by armed policemen in a second vehicle.
At the Préfecture, Luizet went straight to Bussière’s office. Fournet, Pierre and Lamboley addressed Luizet as “Monsieur le Patron”.9 Luizet was soon joined by his deputy designate, Edgard Pisani, a brilliant grande école student. Pisani believed that the Delegation had no wish to provoke the German garrison yet, but such considerations were superseded by events. Again Bussière offered to man the telephone but Pisani told him firmly not to communicate with anyone; the Préfecture’s switchboard was temporarily left unmanned.10
One caller unable to get through was Raoul Nordling, returning Bussière’s call from the previous evening. Driving between his consulate, Romainville and the Hôtel Meurice, Nordling thought little had changed that sunny Saturday morning. But, seeing policemen milling around outside the Préfecture, Nordling asked what was happening.
“The Germans will be going soon. So I will be able to resume my job under the Marshal,” said the policeman, clearly unaware of Bayet’s declaration.
Inside, Nordling saw frenetic activity in the courtyard.
“What are you doing here, Monsieur le Consul?” asked a policeman.
“I would like to see the Prefect,” said Nordling.
Approaching Luizet’s office, Nordling was made au courant with the morning’s events. Nordling told Luizet that he was still trying to get political prisomers released.
“You can see Monsieur Bussière, without any problem, if you wish, Monsieur Nordling,” said Luizet.
Unfortunately for Nordling, Bussière’s Gaullist replacement was unlikely to win favours from the Germans. Nevertheless, Nordling briefly visited Bussière.11
AFTER PERSISTENT WARNINGS AGAINST PREMATURE ACTION, it was with some concern that Colonel Henri Rol-Tanguy heard the Marseillaise emanating from the Préfecture as he bicycled past Notre Dame towards the Rue de Meaux—especially since he carried orders prohibiting attacks on German patrols until public buildings were secured.12
After propping up his bicycle, Rol-Tanguy tried to gain entrance, but the Gardien on the gate barred him. Rol-Tanguy departed to a quiet place nearby and donned the military tunic he carried in his panier. Returning to the Préfecture, Rol-Tanguy found the policemen more amenable. The Préfecture courtyard was an extraordinary scene as Gardiens de la Paix, some uniformed, others in mufti, but all wearing FFI brassards, ran hither and thither fetching arms and painting vehicles with the letters FFI, sometimes accompanied by a V for Vercors, in honour of the premature rising in Isère during July.13
No one forwarned Rol-Tanguy of this development and he felt they should have. But he marvelled that the police rank and file had finally aligned themselves firmly alongside the Resistance; it was wonderful. Nevertheless, he thought them woefully unprepared for German retaliation.14 Refered by Bayet to Commissioner Chassagnette to discuss military matters, Rol-Tanguy said two thousand men was too many to defend the Préfecture and keep supplied with food and ammunition. They should disperse around police sub-stations. In any case, at best, their armouries only held a few dozen rifles and a handful of machine-guns, which was not enough, though more might be found in abandoned collabo arsenals. The Préfecture’s supply of sandbags, previously stockpiled to defend the building against 1930s rioters, should, said Rol-Tanguy, be used to defend windows, especially at corners, where their best marksmen should be.15 As he spoke Rol-Tanguy noticed a door open slightly and saw Bussière’s face. Hearing that Bussière was under arrest, Rol-Tanguy nodded, then saw another face, “Who’s that?” he asked.
“Nordling, the Swedish Consul,” replied Chassagnette.
Knowing nothing of Nordling’s efforts to release political prisoners, Rol-Tanguy said, “Well, he has no business here.”16
Moments later Nordling returned to Luizet’s office. “In any case,” said Nordling, taking his leave, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call as I am one of the more senior consuls in the city.”
By now the streets around the Prefecture were deserted. Getting into his car, Nordling looked up at the Tricolore fluttering in the sunlight. It was good to see.17
AT 9AM HENRI CULMANN ENTERED the Ministry of Industrial Production on the Rue de Grenelle. Since French industry notoriously collaborated with Germany, Culmann was nervous. On reaching his office he learnt that fifty FFI would soon take over the building; their pickets were already in the courtyard, warning that the Minister would so
on be arrested. Now worried, Culmann asked if any FFIs had mentioned him and was relieved to hear that he was not on their hit list. After conferring with Secretary-General Jarillot, Culmann thought, “having reflected for a few moments on how to reconcile my duty and my preference to stay alive, I decided to remain in my office but that if the building was invaded by large numbers of armed FFIs so that I was directly threatened, I would escape through the gardens and jump the wall into the hotel garden next door”.18 As rifle reports intensified around the Prefecture, Culmann ran to a window. A large black Citroen 11CV carrying armed policemen and emblazoned with the letters FFI flew along the Rue de Grenelle.19
SETTING OFF FROM THE HÔTEL CRILLON on his usual rounds, Sonderführer Robert Wallraf visited the Chamber of Deputies whose building, the Palais Bourbon, was designated a Stützpunkt (strong-point). Its garrison displayed typical Wehrmacht pugnacity while its courtyard was choked with vehicles. “When ordered to evacuate we didn’t want to find ourselves without transport,” wrote Wallraf. “We had no desire to walk five hundred kilometres to reach the German frontier.” Yet the Palais Bourbon’s defenders seemed sad; most German soldiers remembered good times in Paris and hated to see the population turn on them. Conversely, angry hoteliers complained that when their German clients left they had no immediate likelihood of re-letting their rooms.
“They’ve really gone?” asked Wallraf.
“Yes,” came the reply. “No one’s there. They have even left weapons and ammunition for the Resistance.”20
Witnessing the morning’s events unfold, Wallraf took no pleasure in seeing well-trained German soldiers returning fire, sewing panic on the streets below. When an FFI prisoner was brought in, instead of executing him, he was sent to the Hôtel Meurice under guard. Some FFIs were firing into the Palais Bourbon’s courtyards from nearby apartment buildings on the Rue Aristide Briand, which Wallraf thought recklessly unprofessional. A rifle-grenade fired by a trained soldier could easily set such buildings alight.21
STILL HOLDING THE POCKET’S SOUTHERN JAWLINE at Écouche, la Nueve’s day began when a shot-down RAF pilot was guided into their lines by a French farmer. The previous night was sufficiently uneventful for Dronne’s Spaniards to catch up on personal washing, cleaning weapons and food. There was also a roll call; la Nueve lost seven killed in Normandy, including two useful section commanders; ten badly injured and two with light injuries who refused to leave the company. Two destroyed half-tracks were replaced by the Americans, while lightly damaged vehicles were repaired by the men themselves.
Surveying the area around Écouché, Dronne lost count of the burnt and blackened German vehicles. Then there were the dead; hideously posed, ballooning in the summer heat, whose stench could be smelt hundreds of metres away. The pocket was now collapsing and British troops from Dempsey’s Second Army were threading their way through the wreckage of the German defeat with the sensible, experienced caution of veterans.22
At Leclerc’s CP Christian Girard studied the map. With US V Corps south of Chambois, he wondered why Langlade’s men had not taken the town.23 But Langlade knew that if he entered the gap he might find himself in a costly tank battle contrary to Leclerc’s orders. Nevertheless he ordered sub-group commanders Minjonnet and Massu to maintain pressure on the enemy with tank and artillery fire without being drawn into anything larger. Langlade knew that Massu needed keeping on the leash.24
Commandant Weil was sent to V Corps to ascertain Gerow’s plans for Paris. American thinking remained that Paris would be bypassed north and south, thereby avoiding costly street fighting and the burden of feeding the city, estimated to need 3,000 tons a day from Allied stocks landed in Normandy. “Too kind,” Girard wrote sarcastically in his diary after taking Weil’s report. “Always seen through the same lens. It’s the big omelette that counts.”25
Leclerc and Girard gamefully speculated which Allied generals were most sympathetic about Paris. Horrocks—Leclerc’s former commander in Tunisia? “Surement pas! ” Montgomery? Impossible to say. Patton? “Possibly sympathetic, but he would put it to one side until after the fighting was over.” Leclerc then said urbanely that unless something happened soon he would, “re-run his march on Tripoli” on his own initiative. Girard nodded in agreement. “But it would be a pity,” wrote Girard, “to be obliged to arrive at such a position.”26
Naturally the 2e DB prefered to advance on Paris with American support, though some were claiming more petrol and ammunition than they had used from American stores. More replacement tanks and half-tracks arrived than were lost. Notwithstanding that Uncle Sam’s dollar paid for everything, Leclerc criticised Allied strategy. Considering the Allies’ vast material advantage, he reckoned they could have passed Paris by mid August, even as far as Champagne. “But there wasn’t a plan,” wrote Girard. “Improvisation had reigned and confusion was the result; it showed itself particularly in the affaire of the Falaise pocket.” 27 France’s only armoured division in Normandy liked criticising its American backers and vice versa. While far from being a perfect Stalingrad-style encirclement, Falaise was far more than an affaire—it was the decisive victory that opened the road to Paris.
CONFINED TO HIS APARTMENT with his family, Amedée Bussière could only watch events unfold. Allowed back into his office to collect personal effects, he found Edgard Pisani sitting at his desk and Pétain’s bust—a de luxe version of Cogné’s sculpture—shoved into a cupboard. While senior police résistants rifled through files, looking for evidence against collabo colleagues, the younger ones positioned sandbags around windows.28
In the Prefecture’s wine cellar policemen uncorked bottles, regretfully pouring their contents down the drain and refilling them with a dangerous mix of petrol and sulphuric acid. Once recorked the bottle was wrapped in paper soaked in potassium chlorate which would react with the sulphuric acid when the bottle hit its target. Most Molotov cocktails consist of a bottle filled with petrol and bunged with a rag which is lit shortly before being thrown. The Prefecture’s version was devised by Frederic Joliot-Curie, a career chemist who, with his wife, had won the 1935 Nobel chemistry prize for discovering artificial radioactivity. After la Chute Joliot-Curie and his team automatically drew Nazi interest. But, although paid by Germany via the Wehrmacht’s science directorate, Joliot-Curie played the double-jeu, joining the communist affiliated Front National in 1941. Seeing the Tricolore above the Préfecture that morning, Joliot-Curie immediately offered his services.
Having taken positions with good fields of fire over the surrounding roads, the police began shooting at any Wehrmacht personnel or vehicles coming within range of the Préfecture. “Already one could hear gunfire from the windows,” Bussière wrote. “And there was plenty of commotion down on the Jean Chiappe Courtyard.”29
When Germans fell either on the Rue de la Cité or along the Quai Saint-Michel, they shrieked with delight, savouring the aroma of cordite coming off their weapons. Younger policemen found the Insurrection’s first two hours utterly exhilarating, though older heads knew the Germans would soon retaliate, sending tanks against them. When a call came from the Hôtel Meurice, Bussière’s offer was accepted.
“There is an officer from the Meurice on the line,” said one of Luizet’s men.
Bussière grabbed the receiver. “I am the Prefect of Police. I would like to speak to General von Choltitz; it is both urgent and important.”
“He’s not here, Monsieur le Préfet,” replied a German officer. “But I will repeat your words to him exactly.”
“Tell him that everything is fine at the Préfecture but tell him also that if, as it has been rumoured to me, there is an intention to enforce a curfew beginning at 2pm, then I ask him most seriously to do no such thing. This would be a catastrophe for public order. Parisians, whether they are aware or not, will be on the city’s streets in large numbers. In any case 2pm is the time when many of them return to work. Your repression could only have bloody consequences. The general certainly would not want that.
He will understand why I have called him. I meant it as warmly as possible.”
“Understood, Monsieur le Préfet,” replied the Meurice officer. “I will pass on what you have said to the general. I will call you back should it be necessary.”
“That officer never called me back,” wrote Bussière. “And the curfew was never set for 2pm.”30
But Germans were returning fire at the Préfecture and police casualties were mounting. Bussière’s son Jacques, a junior doctor at the nearby Hôpital Hôtel-Dieu, offered his services to Charles Luizet. Many wounded policemen were faces Jacques Bussière knew. With a pass signed by Luizet, Dr. J. Bussière tended the wounded throughout the Insurrection.31
AS A PRELIMINARY GERMAN REACTION the area around the Rue de Rivoli was cordoned off, creating a no-go area as Maurice Goudeket found to his cost. Cabin-crazy at the benign house-arrest imposed by Colette in their Palais Royale apartment, Goudeket ventured into the Tuileries Gardens to see what was happening. While he was there the barriers were put in place; civilians could not pass without showing their papers. Being a Jew in hiding, Goudeket had no papers. Suddenly finding himself in a dire predicament, Goudeket hid in an air-raid shelter scooped out during the drôle de guerre (the Phoney War) and now used for storage by the gardeners. When Goudeket failed to return, Colette frantically telephoned their friends.32
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