As she ate her breakfast at the dining room table, Andrée thought long and hard about the day ahead. Monsieur Langeron had asked her to come to his office at 7.00 a.m. for an important meeting, to which he told her he had also invited three of her colleagues whom she might not know but in whom she could have total confidence. She knew nothing more about why this meeting had been called. Initially she feared she might be in trouble for not doing her work properly, but she had not been reprimanded about anything and she seemed popular with her colleagues. It was true she kept herself to herself at work and never mixed with her fellow employees outside office hours, but no one would have described her as unfriendly. She was always hard-working, approachable and certainly had no airs and graces.
Having finished her meal, she dressed in a simple navy-blue polka dot dress and flat cream-coloured shoes, and left the flat. On this fresh, warm morning she decided to walk to the Place de la Concorde, where she could catch a bus over to the Assemblée Nationale and then walk along the Quai d’Orsay. As she arrived at Police Headquarters and walked through the main entrance, a policeman saluted her. ‘Bonjour, Mademoiselle, you are very early this morning.’
Andrée returned the greeting and quickly made her way up to her office where, as yet, no one else had arrived. She placed her handbag neatly in her drawer and with a pad and pen made her way to Monsieur Langeron’s office. Her best assumption was that he might want her to type some personal and confidential letters and, because of his close friendship with Renée, he knew she would be discreet.
As she knocked at Monsieur Langeron’s door, she could hear the bells of Notre Dame chime seven o’clock. She waited for his acknowledgement and, as she did so, a dark-haired, slim man about her age came up beside her and said hello. Andrée wondered who he was but then the call came to enter. Inside there were two other people, both sitting opposite his desk: a young woman, a little older than Andrée, with auburn hair and a lot of make-up, and a small man who appeared to be in his late thirties but whose hair was already going grey.
Monsieur Langeron stood up and formally shook the hands of Andrée and the young man next to her before introducing them to the other people in the room.
‘Monsieur Dupont, Mademoiselle Grisson, this is Mademoiselle Griotteray and Monsieur Paul.’
Langeron came straight to the point. ‘You may be wondering why I have asked you to come to my office so early in the morning.’
‘As you are well aware, we have always closely monitored the number of foreigners living in and around Paris. You, Mademoiselle Griotteray, have carefully checked their ID cards and recorded them on our central filing system. Monsieur Paul, Monsieur Dupont, Mademoiselle Grisson, you have all worked on the same project at different times. The Germans could reach Paris within days and I do not want this information to fall into their hands. They may take over Police Headquarters within the next few days, but it is my intention to remain as head of police. I will take full responsibility for the decisions I make.’
As he spoke, the little group were all aware of the seriousness of what he was proposing, and each felt a little frightened.
‘On 12 June, all the records on the foreigners will be boxed up and taken down into the main yard where they will be loaded onto vans. Many of my trusted officers will have packed up the files and brought the boxes up from the cellars. They will be very tired as they will have been working for almost forty-eight hours non-stop. At 6.00 a.m., the vans will be ready for loading. The officers assigned to the task are well aware of their duty. Your job, Mesdemoiselles, Messieurs, will be to make yourselves available should your assistance be needed and you will report immediately and directly back to me if there are any problems. I know the officers assigned to the operation well and they are all loyal, but it is possible that there are some people among my staff who would like the Germans to know where these foreigners live, especially the Jews. We will be moving the files as quickly as possible and I aim to have them all out by late morning. They will then be taken out through the yard onto the Quai du Marché Neuf and straight to the Quai des Orfèvres, where they will be loaded on to two waiting trawlers. The trawlers must leave at 2.00 p.m. at the latest.’
Andrée quietly watched her colleagues’ reactions as Monsieur Langeron finished speaking. She saw their sense of excitement mixed with apprehension as the importance of the task ahead began to sink in.
‘Please return to your offices and carry out your work today as you normally would. The designated officers know exactly what they have to do. I want you to work in pairs and watch what is happening. If there are any problems, you are to report back to me immediately. Now, we all need to get on with today’s work. I will see you tomorrow at 5.30 a.m. in la Cour Vaubert.’
Andrée walked back to her office and thought about the day ahead. She knew she would be busy updating the records of the many foreigners living in Paris who would be visiting her office, but she also wanted to make sure she knew exactly where the trawlers would be moored and decided to walk down to the Quai des Orfèvres during her lunch break.
Whenever Andrée was upset or anxious, she found comfort in food and that day was no exception. The morning went by quickly and on hearing the clock chime twelve, she made her way to the Brasserie les Deux Palais, where she knew the owner and was confident she would have a good lunch. It was her treat to herself after a tiring morning. She chose a table at the back of the restaurant, sat down and looked at the menu. After ordering she looked around the restaurant, which had first opened around 1900 and still had many of the period’s original features: the colourful mosaic floor, the high mirrors covering all the walls and the long red leather bench with a series of small tables facing it. Andrée considered her fellow diners, many of whom were no doubt also aware that this might be their last good meal before the arrival of the Germans.
She ate an egg mayonnaise to start with, followed by the plat du jour – osso buco (a rich, thick meat dish cooked in a tomato, onion and garlic sauce). While she ate, she thought about how difficult life would be over the weeks and months ahead. As a young nineteen-year-old, she was not totally in tune with Langeron’s political beliefs and activities, but she was determined to help him – not least because of her sister’s admiration for him. She drank her coffee and, having paid the bill, walked down to the Quai des Orfèvres. From the main road outside the Préfecture de Police, which lay along the Seine, a slip road went down to the river. Large cobblestones had been laid along the road’s surface back in the nineteenth century and at the bottom of the road she noticed several iron rings on the quayside to which trawlers could be moored. Happy about the logistics and hearing the bells of Notre Dame chime two o’clock, she hurried back to the office. She felt confident the archives could be moved onto the trawlers, but organisational speed would be vital.
On 12 June 1940, Andrée wrote:
As I arrived at work today the courtyard was full of trucks. It was an important day. All the archives were being moved out of Police Headquarters. Many of my colleagues were early at work to help out.
Andrée was standing in la Cour Vaubert at 5.30 a.m. Despite the early hour she could see from the clear sky that it was going to be a hot day. Minutes after her arrival, the heavy gates of Police Headquarters were opened and several more large trucks drove into the yard. During the night the boxes of files had been brought up from the cellars to the ground floor by Langeron’s loyal team of officers. They loaded the vans quickly and, as soon as they were full, each made their way out to the Quai d’Orfèvres, towards the waiting trawlers. As the first truck arrived on the quayside and the boxes were being loaded, the captain of the vessel greeted the driver. ‘Bonjour, Monsieur, we have no time to lose. We must load the boats as quickly as possible. My permit allows me to leave the Quai d’Orfèvres at 2.00 p.m. and, whether my cargo is loaded or not, I will be leaving on time.’
For the next eight hours, police officers and van drivers worked tirelessly to load the trawlers.
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��Where are you heading for?’ asked one of the drivers as the cargo was being loaded.
‘Not sure exactly, but we are heading for the South of France. I will receive further instructions when I reach Vienne, but I know from my patron that these boxes will be well and truly hidden; the Germans will not be able to get their hands on them.’
By mid morning, rumours had spread about this extraordinary operation. Many of the staff had not realised the importance of what was going on around them, but as Andrée and her colleagues watched the trawlers move out of the quay, she acknowledged to herself that this was the beginning of her own personal fight against the invasion. She promised herself that she would use whatever opportunity she had at Police Headquarters to resist the Germans.
As planned, the files left the Quai d’Orfèvres at two o’clock in the afternoon on 12 June 1940, two days before the Wehrmacht’s entry into the capital. Sadly, events did not go smoothly from that point onwards.
On 13 June 1940, Andrée recorded in her diary:
This morning Monsieur Langeron called a meeting of the administrative staff and gave a really good speech telling us that if the city was to be occupied, the police and the Head of Police would all stay in their jobs.
Paris waited anxiously, nervously, for the Nazi arrival. Langeron did everything he could to maintain order, but there was panic in the air. Several days earlier, on 9 June 1940 Andrée had written:
This evening I packed my suitcase just in case I suddenly have to leave Paris. I had better take Souki [the family dog] with me. Maman and the girls are leaving tomorrow for Nantes. Papa is hesitating. He thinks it is still too early to leave. He is simply ridiculous and besides which, if anything were to happen, he would be evacuated by car.
Thursday night we had a small get-together at Barbier’s flat with Margit and Alain. We had sandwiches and a lot to drink. We did not get to bed until 4.30 in the morning and at 5.30 there was an air raid. The latest news is the Germans are still advancing. Bastards. Well, maybe I should not say too much. If my diary were to fall into their hands, it would not help my career prospects at Police Headquarters.
Yesterday I went to the dressmaker with Maman and afterwards we had dinner at Garnier’s. We had a lobster mayonnaise, a strawberry tart and an ice cream. This may well be my last good meal. Maman leaves tomorrow and I have no idea what will happen to me.
Her entry for 13 June continued:
Paris is still a free city but what will tomorrow bring? The Germans are so near. It is unbelievable. Hitler said he would reach Paris by 15 June and ma foi, he is almost here. We should not have been so careless and made such fun of them. This is going to teach us a lesson. It so ironic to think that when Maman was exactly my age, the same thing happened to her. It was 1914, she was twenty-one and she was living in Brussels. It is 1940, I am nineteen and I am living in Paris. I am not frightened, nor am I worried, which does help, but everyone else at the office is terrified. I am so pleased that Maman, Alain and the girls were able to leave Paris.* They were lucky. They finally left Monday night on a train going to Nantes [from where they hoped to board a ship which would take them to England]. I saw them off at the station. Papa is due to join them but, thank goodness, he is still here. I would not have liked being all alone in Paris. Renée has left with her mother, at least I hope she has. Margit left me a note to say that she was leaving with her family. All my friends have gone. We are alone and it is very scary, but hopefully it won’t be too awful.
Another thing which is worrying me is the mail. The post is just not getting through and so we have no letters.
Tomorrow we may wake up under the German occupation of Paris. I am eating as many cakes as I can, especially while there are still some left in the shops.
Bonsoir, I am going to have to start learning German again. What a pity I gave it up when I was fourteen. It could be very useful now.
Friday, 14 June 1940
A day I will remember for the rest of my life, whether it be long or short. I will never forget 14 June 1940.
Firstly, and what a stab in the back, as I was walking up the rue Auber to catch the métro, what did I see coming down the road? A truck, a truck full of German soldiers.
Then, at ten o’clock on the dot, the Germans marched into Police Headquarters through the gates of Notre Dame. I looked out of my office window and there they were. When I left in the evening the yard was full of disarmed policemen and German soldiers. The German soldiers’ uniform is a sort of green/greyish colour and I have to admit it does look rather good on them.
But what a loss of face for France. What a tragedy. Paris occupied by a foreign power. I cried and cried and cried. Until now I had been so brave, but at lunchtime I just completely fell apart. I cried solidly for ten minutes. I am unable to write any more. Some of my colleagues have literally disappeared, not wanting to have Germans anywhere near them. Tonight I will go to bed and go to sleep under the German occupation of my city. For how long will we be civilian prisoners? What is going to happen next?
Andrée was well aware of the exodus currently taking place from Paris. She and her father discussed the plight of the refugees on the roads, many killed as low-flying Luftwaffe bombed the roads out of larger cities. She felt desperately sorry for anyone escaping, but also a little fearful for her own safety in Paris. Not as worried as her father, however: Edmond insisted on accompanying Andrée to work on 15 June, which she regarded as a ridiculous overreaction. She explained his reasoning to Alain Gandy after the war, with a hefty dose of sarcasm: ‘My father was worried I might meet the wrong sort of men out on the streets of Paris after the Germans arrived.’
16 June 1940
Our Prime Minister, Paul Reynaud, has fled to Bordeaux and has tried to bring about a sort of coalition government between France and Britain at the initiative and invitation of Winston Churchill, but the plan has failed.
I miss Maman enormously. There are Germans everywhere and there are German cars on every street corner. It breaks my heart and the worst of it is I have no idea where anyone is. Where are Maman, Yvette, Claude, Alain? What is going to happen to us all? Thank God Papa decided not to leave. He did not want to leave me alone. How would I feel if he had left with Maman? All my friends have gone. The 9th arrondissement where we live is completely deserted. Everyone has left. There is simply no one around. Curfew is at 11 p.m. and all the buses, cars and taxis have been requisitioned by the German army.
I have been looking back through my diaries and forgot to say that on the evening of 10 June the Italians declared war on France. A real stab in the back which does not surprise me in the least because the Italians have always been something else.*
On 15 June 1940, the Manchester Guardian published an eyewitness account of the invasion: ‘The main German forces entered the city at noon yesterday. They came from the north-west and by the Aubervilliers Gate from the north-east. From the north-western suburbs they marched through the west end down the Champs-Élysées – tanks, armoured reconnaissance cars, anti-tank units, and motorized infantry. Machine gun posts were set up at important points, and the wireless stations were seized. The people left in Paris watched the entry in silence, reports the Associated Press correspondent. Small groups of people still sat along the terraces and boulevards and in the cafés. Shops were boarded up. In the Place de l’Opéra stood a solitary motor car with a large “for sale” sign. The Paris police still patrolled the streets. Occasionally could be heard the drone of an unmolested plane.’2
Andrée was disgusted at the thought of the German army marching down the iconic Champs-Élysées, accompanied by a military band. In a statement to the Minister of the Interior, Monsieur Peyrouton, Langeron was quoted as saying: ‘The whole of the police force is in place. The force has watched over Paris and I will continue to protect the city and help in the difficult times ahead. We will collaborate fully with the orders of the occupying forces to maintain public order and safety.’
Meanwhile, news had arrived about
the trawlers, little of it good. Jean-Marc Berlière records that as the vessels headed south down the river they came across a munitions boat, which had exploded at Bagneaux-sur-Loing in the Seine-et-Marne just to the south of Fontainebleau. One trawler, carrying political archives and general information, was able to get through, but amidst the general chaos the other, carrying individuals’ files, did not. Many boxes of those files ended up in the river. The full details of what happened were not recorded, but it is clear that the hold-up proved fatal to Langeron’s original mission.
Once in Paris, the Germans quickly learnt of the operation and ordered the return of all files. Damaged sheets of paper were dried and then copied, in an attempt to rescue as much information as possible. By mid July, the boxes had been returned to Police Headquarters and, as the war progressed, the contents were used to persecute some of the people recorded therein. At this time an ID card did not record the bearer’s ethnicity, but some names would have been identifiable as Jewish. Langeron’s daring attempt to shield so many immigrants at risk from Nazi persecution had failed.
Langeron was arrested on 23 June on an unrelated offence regarding his objection to the dismissal of four police commissioners, in violation of the armistice agreements; he was released a month later and permitted to return to his official duties. In January 1941, however, he would be arrested once again and he was subsequently removed from office by the Vichy government. He remains a controversial figure, claimed by many as a hero of the Resistance, but denounced by others as a collaborator.
* Following the invasion, civil servants were forbidden from resigning and so Andrée did not have the option of leaving Paris with her family.
Andrée's War Page 4
