* Andrée’s view of the Italian declaration was borne out by subsequent historians. In All Hell Let Loose, Max Hastings commented: ‘Italy entered the war alongside Hitler on 10 June 1940 in a shameless, undignified scramble for a share of the spoils. Mussolini feared Hitler and disliked the Germans, but he was unable to resist the temptation to secure cheap grain in Europe and the allied African empires.’
5
Life Under Occupation
From June to November 1940, Andrée’s diary tells a story of ordinary life continuing during the occupation. In some ways, things continued much the same as usual – her preoccupations might be those of any nineteen-year-old: food, shopping, annoying colleagues at work, clothes. But this was only one part of her life at that time. What was happening in the other part could not be written down.
21 June 1940
I am at work again at Police Headquarters. M. Kervella never stops drinking. I suppose it is his way of ignoring what is going on around him, which makes him even stupider than usual! There is still no news from Maman and there is still no mail.
I now see Germans on the streets of Paris every day. They walk around as if they own the place. They are continually to be found in our cafés and our bars, where they sing and drink. In other words, they are just having a ball. I am so very proud of myself because so far I have managed not to talk to a single one of them and when I see them on the streets on my way home I cross the road and pretend they do not exist. As for the airspace above Paris, the pilots are having the most wonderful time flying their planes so low they almost scrape the roofs of the houses. They travel around in the most amazing cars, which I am sure they have stolen in Holland, Belgium and Northern France. The whole thing disgusts me beyond belief, but at least I have my books and I can read, read, read. It helps pass the time since I have nothing better to do.
Oh, let’s write about something else. I have just bought a pair of shoes from Berthelot. They are very comfortable. My two hats are finished, but I do not feel like wearing them. On Monday I am due a day’s leave, that is if we are not all dead. I have not had a day off in three weeks. Incidentally, M. Bear from the Information Department has disappeared. He was not prepared to stay and work here at Police Headquarters with the Germans around. I go and see Madame Yoanoff from time to time. She is interesting and intelligent. It is quarter past nine in the evening French time, but I am going to have to go to bed because the Germans have put the clocks forward by an hour. ‘La Mère’ Chantebout has escaped, or at least that is what I think she has done, because she has not been seen since 13 June. At least we will have some peace.
22 June 1940
I am sitting at home alone looking out of the window. It is pouring. Thunder and lightning are raging all over Paris and I am depressed. Why must I feel so broken-hearted every time I walk past a German soldier or when I see one of them sitting on the terrace of one of our cafés?
23 June 1940
Hitler is in Paris. I feel sick.
24 June 1940
I must go to the hairdresser and have a perm, but I have just bought another pair of shoes so I have no money. Today Papa and I went cycling.
There are German planes constantly flying over Paris. They fly so low that one day one of them will fly into a chimney.
To think that some of these pilots have only had nine hours’ training, which is what I overheard being said at Police Headquarters yesterday. I admit they certainly know how to fly. We have no fuel but they are using it recklessly. Still, it is nothing to do with me. I am a totally insignificant person wanting only to live in peace and this is not the way of the world at the moment.
Tonight there is something else worrying me. Monsieur Langeron has been relieved of his duties as head of police and this concerns me because my ‘Piston’ [mentor] will no longer be around to help if I get myself into trouble. Hopefully Monsieur Blanc, his number two, is still at Police Headquarters.
Still no news from Maman and the children.
26 June 1940
It is 1.15 German time. I wonder how long this nightmare is going to last. I am feeling depressed in a way I have never felt before. I now go to Police Headquarters by bike, it is quicker and it costs less.
28 June 1940
19.05 French time. I have a migraine. I am so depressed. I am continually depressed.
Today we were given some slightly more encouraging news. The French postal service is to be resumed at the end of the week.
I have no more to say to you, little diary, my heart is full of pain.
2 July 1940
Today I went cycling with Papa to Maison Lafitte. We went the long way round because so many of the bridges had been bombed. As we cycled, we saw large numbers of people walking back into Paris, refugees making their way back home. It was so unbelievably sad. We bought some food, but there is almost nothing to buy.
At lunchtime Papa made a ‘jardinière’ [a dish made of garden vegetables] and for pudding he had prepared a dish of gooseberries. It was so delicious I was over the moon.
Later I went to see the Ullmans, but they upset me so much. Madame Ullman has no news of her son Leo and she did not stop talking about it. I told her I had had no news from my family or any of my friends. No news from my mother, my brother, my sisters, my best friend Margit, my boyfriend André, let alone Jean Barbier. But she can barely hear because she is deaf and she is not in the least bit interested. Then in the afternoon I went to see Jacqueline Remy. She is the only one still around.
5 July 1940
There are still so many Germans on the streets of Paris, even more so than when they first arrived. I simply cannot get over seeing them walking around as if they owned the place. Now some of them even walk around in civilian dress.
At two o’clock this afternoon I saw four soldiers who, because they were meeting an officer, saluted each other with the ‘Heil Hitler’. Then a little further along at the Place du Théâtre Français, I saw four officers and two young men dressed as civilians. As the two civilians were introduced to the officers they thumped their heels, did the ‘Heil Hitler’ and finally shook each other by the hand. As for me, I was crossing the road so as to avoid them but I must have had such a disgusted look on my face because the older officer looked at me and made a comment to the others. What he said I will never know, but I heard him saying ‘Frau’, which means he was talking about me.
The class of ’40 and the last group of ’39 are about to be released [from service in the French army]. It is just as well for André and Jean Barbier [friends of the Griotteray siblings]. Well there is a bit of good news. If only there was a letter from Maman.
7 July 1940
Finally a card from Maman. She is in the Sables-d’Olonne but the card was written on 15 June.
It is midnight German time but I must write today’s wonderful news in my diary.
8 July, 1940
Maman came home today, late evening, with Alain and the children. They are so brown and the adventures they have had are just amazing. Alain tried three times to get onto a British frigate but he was turned away each time.
14 July 1940
Bastille Day, the Germans in Paris. What a nightmare. Last year we were camping in the Bois-le-Roi. The weather was wonderful. We were so happy.
Today I went to check Renée’s flat because she is still in Arcachon. On the way back Maman and I had a drink at the Viel and it was full of Germans and Italians. It is so sad.
The whole family is together again but I am arguing a lot with Papa. I think that since the Germans arrived in Paris, he has become slightly unhinged. He is so upset. He lived through the occupation of Paris during the Great War and he grew up with his parents, who had lived through the Prussian occupation of Paris.
Well, I am going to bed. I am getting through loads of books. I am lucky, it is a means of escape.
5 August 1940
It is unbearably hot at the moment. We are leading the most awful life.
12 August
1940
Last Saturday at three in the afternoon, we left Paris and went to Rochefort by bike. We had a difficult journey because we had Yvette with us [Andrée’s sister was only 13 at the time, and not used to cycling] and it was seriously hot. We finally got to Rochefort in time for supper. Mémé had prepared a pot-au-feu and an absolutely delicious prune compote. We slept at Papa’s house and in the morning Mémé brought us breakfast in bed: café au lait, bread, baguette and two different types of jam, prune and a gooseberry one. After breakfast we went for a walk around the village, we swam in the lake and then visited the old church, which dominates the village. We returned to Papa’s house where the most amazing lunch was waiting for us, mackerel, olive oil, a steak with potatoes sautéed in butter and a fresh lettuce salad. There was the most delicious chocolate mousse and finally a small coffee. It was then time to return home, leaving Yvette with her dear Mémé.
We left at 13.30 and initially it seemed quite an easy road, but then we took a wrong turning and cycled an extra six kilometres. At 15.30 we were on the Quai d’Orsay, where we were very greedy and had a mirabelle tart. We then travelled along the Quai d’Orsay and my brakes gave in. It was so annoying. Having repaired them, we managed to get to the Pont de Sèvres and then along the Seine to the Place de la Concorde. After that we had a quick stop and a coffee at the Eiffel Tower. We had cycled 114 kilometres.
13 August 1940
There was an article in the newspaper today that talks about couriers travelling between Paris and Brussels, and so I decided to give one of them a letter for Tante Léa, asking her whether I could go and stay with her and l’Oncle Auguste. It won’t be easy. Firstly I will have to get permission from Police Headquarters and then from the Kommandantur [the Nazi headquarters in Paris]. I wonder which will be more difficult. Then I will have to buy a railway ticket. Well, one rarely has fun without working hard at it.
On Saturday Papa brought half the furniture from our house in Mesnil-le-Roi back to Paris. Why on earth did he have to do that? It is impossible to find milk, cheese, oil or soap in Paris at the moment. There is no coffee and one hardly ever finds rice or pasta.
Well, no point in complaining.
Germany is preparing for her big battle with England. We are all very worried and awaiting the outcome. Hitler told us he would be in London by the middle of August. It is already the 13th, so he had better get a move on. On the BBC they are saying, ‘Hurry up, you only have two days left.’
At the office, M. Kervella is ill, probably drunk because it is his way of hiding his worries. Madame Chantebout has caused absolute uproar here at the office because she has managed to get her husband released from a prisoner-of-war camp and Madame Joly is divorcing her husband.
21 August 1940
In eight days’ time I will be twenty. I am trying to decide whether or not to go to Brussels. It would all be rather complicated. Tante Léa would love to have me to stay, but I need the permission of M. Blanc, the Acting Head of Police. Renée will hopefully help me with this and then I will ask Margit to help me obtain the permit from the Kommandantur. Is it worth it? It will be so expensive.
Last Sunday Margit and I went cycling along the Marne. We left via the Bois de Vincennes. We found an abandoned railway track and cycled along it and found we were on the Eastern railway track of France. We eventually reached Gournay and we got rather sunburnt. I am as brown as a berry. I look great.
…
My trip to Brussels is not going to happen. It would have been unbelievably expensive. M. Blanc told Renée that I would first need the permission of the commandant and that he would be surprised if permission was granted. I think it would be easier if I spent my holidays in Fontainebleau. We thought Alain had typhoid, but luckily the doctor has just told us that it was only a stomach infection. Yvette is coming home from Rochefort tomorrow.
22 August 1940
Dear diary, it is almost a whole year since I started writing in this little booklet. We are no longer at war. We have been defeated. As a nation we are worthless.
Germany is planning her invasion of England, but we are still waiting for it to happen. They may not have reached London, but they are bombing the whole of England and the British are bombing the German towns. There are thousands of civilians being killed. War is just so awful. What a wonderful day it will be when the people of the world can get on together. Meanwhile, communication between the Free Zone and the Occupied Zone has been cut.
As for life in Paris, we have to queue for everything. It is absolutely awful. We queue for butter, milk, coffee, cheese, meat, if we can find it, and oil.
23 August 1940
I now have a little blue diary. I love anything blue.
Life is so sad. It is impossible for a young French girl to be carefree and happy because the Germans are occupying most of my country. Maybe it does not upset everyone in the same way, but for me to walk around Paris, my home town, to see Germans travelling around in cars and admiring the sights, is heart-breaking. I do understand the government’s position in allowing them to march in, not wanting Paris to be bombed and destroyed, but it is very hard. In Paris the occupying forces are behaving themselves, but in the country we hear they are despicable and looting whatever they can find. I am living in the hope that the British will get them and it will not be too soon. Even the German soldiers have had enough. They are always at war and their victory has been too quick.*
24 August 1940
I am now working in the north-eastern part of the building. It is awful. I work with the most dreadful group of people. I have decided to ask the Head of Police to find me another job, that is if I am not made to return to the Tourist Department. I am now in the Passport Department.
30 August 1940
Madame Chantebout and I spend most of our time going between cooperatives and Police Headquarters. In the morning we went to the rue Lagrange looking for lard and butter and in the afternoon we went to the rue Chanoinesse to see what we could find. Yesterday I found some chocolate and noodles.
31 August 1940
The night before going on holiday I had to go to Monsieur Blanc, the Acting Head of Police, for my ID card. He told me to write it out myself. I did think this was rather odd. He told me to bring it back for him to sign and he just signed it without checking or even looking at it.
For the next couple of months, Andrée did not write anything in her diary. She began again on 11 November, including in one volume the brief line: ‘Bagarre à l’Étoile’ (fighting at L’Étoile). That is her only written reference to the student protests – she was presumably aware of the dangers of incriminating herself by including details, should her diaries ever be found by the authorities.
11 November 1940
I am now working for Monsieur Pouillet on the first floor of the building. Here we organise and keep up-to-date information on the foreigners living in Paris. It has to be carefully kept in files and easily accessible to the Germans.
* Andrée was aware of the Battle of Britain currently taking place and, like many of her compatriots, hoped that the RAF would win. Working at Police Headquarters, she may have heard some of the Germans talking about the war. Her entry here may refer to the cynical position adopted by some that the Germans felt they had won too quickly, and would have preferred a more challenging fight. Not all Wehrmacht soldiers were Nazis, of course, and many may not have wanted to wage war in the first place.
6
A First Rebellion
To understand why a young, fairly sheltered and otherwise carefree woman of Andrée’s upbringing would decide to join the French Resistance, it helps to read her reaction following the German invasion of France in 1939 and the Wehrmacht’s entry into Paris in 1940.
On 15 September 1939 Andrée wrote:
We are now at war and we will have to live with it. Hitler has to be stopped. We must believe in France’s victory and shout from the rooftops of Paris ‘Vive la France’.
Ten days later, she added:
>
Alain just keeps repeating ‘what bastards they all are’. As for me, I am totally heartbroken.
By the early autumn of 1940, daily life in Paris was beginning to return to something approaching normality, if such a situation could be described as normal. Following one of the hottest summers on record, when 95°F had been recorded on the streets of Paris, those Parisians who had escaped the Nazis and the city for the hot summer months began slowly to return. Yvonne, Alain, Yvette and Claude had attempted without success to board a British frigate in Nantes destined for Portsmouth. There were too many people trying to leave France and they reached Nantes too late to get on. Alain tried to get on a ship on his own, but was told by a British sailor to return to his ‘Mummy’. He never quite forgave the British for the slight. The family went instead to stay with friends in the Sables-d’Olonne, eventually returning to Paris about six weeks later. Despite hoping that they had managed to make it safely to Britain, Andrée was beside herself with joy to hear her mother’s voice greeting the concierge on their return. Yvette and Claude, at twelve and ten years old respectively, were due to start school, while Alain was about to start university.
Returning to Paris would prove challenging. Tall, with strong Flemish characteristics and an aristocratic presence, no one could miss Yvonne. Holding her two daughters by the hand, she made her way towards the Place de l’Opéra for the first day of school. As she walked towards the Café de la Paix, Yvonne saw that the road signs had been renamed in German; the swastika flag was flying from several rooftops; and everywhere she looked she saw German soldiers walking along the streets. Hurrying on, her daughters listened as she promised: ‘We got rid of them in 1918 and we will get rid of them again.’
Emerging from the métro station one morning, on his way to register at the Sorbonne, Alain picked up a copy of that morning’s Figaro.* As the young newspaper vendor gave him his change, Alain made a sarcastic comment about the accuracy of news reports now that the invading forces were in control of the press. As he stood in line to register at la Faculté de Droit, he looked through the paper and realised how heavily the morning’s press must have been censored. Alain was not slow in taking a decision; before he had even registered as a student, he made up his mind to publish an underground weekly pamphlet or news-sheet. He would name it La France, and its role would be to inform Parisians of what was going on in the world, alongside articles enticing readers to resist the occupation.
Andrée's War Page 5
