One of their most important recruits was Martial de la Fournière. Born in 1918 into an old aristocratic family, he had graduated from Saint-Cyr as a colonel in the French army and before the war had been earmarked for the diplomatic service. In 1941 Martial was working in Vichy in the Colonial Ministry, headed by Admiral Platon, a close friend of Admiral Darlan, who was in charge of the French fleet. It was with Martial’s help that Alain and Biaggi built up a detailed picture of the Vichy government. They also came into contact with some young men working for Jean Barthélemy, Minister of Justice, who gave them details of what was going on in the judicial courts of Vichy.
Alain and Biaggi had been trying without great success to find ways of sending the gathered information to the British intelligence services via d’Astier de la Vigerie in Algiers when Biaggi’s brother-in-law, Toussaint Guidicelli, offered to help out. He owned the Société Hôtelière de Ravitaillement Maritime, a company that supplied merchant ships going from Marseilles to Algeria with food supplies. The system became so successful that in 1942 General Giraud* started sending his mail through the group.
As they extended their network, the boys met Marc Jacquet of the Banque National de Commerce et d’Industrie (today’s Banque Nationale de Paris), who at great risk allowed their intelligence to be dropped at an agency in Marseilles and then taken on to Algiers through the bank’s own couriers.
One significant difference between the Orion Resistance Group and others in its early stages was that they never used radio transmitters as a method of transferring gathered intelligence; Alain considered them far too dangerous because the signals could be easily picked up by the occupying forces. It was only later, in 1942, when Alain had recruited François de Rochefort into the group, that this began to change. François brought with him several military contacts and as a result they were able to gain occasional access to radio transmitters belonging to the resistance arm of the French army (l’organisation de la résistance de l’armée, or ORA). After the war, Andrée repeatedly stressed the wisdom of Alain’s original decision, however: ‘I was a member of the Resistance for several more years than most members of SOE and therefore ran the risk of being caught over a longer period, but I was always safer than they were because I was never asked to carry a radio transmitter or transmit information using one.’
* Later to become Commander-in-Chief of the French forces in North Africa.
11
A Dangerous Affair
Alain’s group of resistance fighters were recording information on a number of different areas, including the industrial production of certain targeted companies in France, the movement of German troops in the north of the country, and the inner workings of the Vichy government. François Clerc, now the Orion Group’s leader in Paris and Alain’s deputy, needed someone to type up the intelligence they had gained and prepare it for forwarding to British Intelligence.
At the start of the invasion François had attempted to escape France on a British ship to England. When that failed, he decided to remain in France and ended up working for a company that manufactured and distributed steel pipes across the Occupied Zone. Deeply patriotic, he worked tirelessly during the war years to gather information about industrial production in eastern France that might be of use to the British intelligence services and later to the US. Aware of how she had helped out with La France, he asked Andrée if she would be willing to provide similar assistance in urgent cases, taking dictation over the telephone and then delivering the typed material to agreed drop-off points. Once again, Andrée agreed readily.
Participating in the French Resistance was dangerous and, as their little group began to grow, Alain and his colleagues knew instinctively that they should draw up guidelines as to the precautions they should all take. Alain was adamant that strict rules were vital and it was mainly to his credit that only six members of his group were arrested over the course of the war. Two members lost their lives, including the group’s original leader Georges Piron, while the remaining four managed to escape imprisonment.
The less contact members of the group had with each other and the less they knew about the others’ activities, the safer they would be if questioned or arrested. Moving their acquired intelligence around was dangerous and they had to be careful, but an early axiom for the Orion Group was that personal safety was more important than the relaying of the intelligence.
Because of her role in typing up others’ material, Andrée was potentially at greater risk than the others, although she always claimed she typed out the reports without paying attention to the contents. The group avoided written communication to minimise the chance of incriminating themselves. They rarely called each other at home or at work, they never met at each others’ houses and they were always on their guard. One of their cardinal rules was never to meet in bars or restaurants because of the impromptu ID card checks and searches made by the Nazis. A preferred method of communicating was through coded telephone conversations; François Clerc might phone Andrée at Police Headquarters and ask about the weather. If the answer was ‘It is a lovely day’, François knew he could speak and arrange a meeting. If the weather was bad, he knew he had to get off the line quickly. François had set up a number of safe houses around central Paris where information could be delivered or picked up. The best places were those to which regular travel was entirely expected. No one would question a visit to a doctor, a lawyer or a priest. The confessional box was always considered a safe place to pass on messages verbally because no German soldier would dare eavesdrop on the confessional box; especially in Paris in the early stages of the war, when the behaviour of members of the Wehrmacht towards the civilian population was still restrained. François would indicate he was going to confession that evening and Andrée knew that he therefore had something to say to her. He gave his priest the message he wanted passed on to Andrée, who in turn would attend confession to receive the message. François told me, with characteristic French humour: ‘I have never been to confession so much in my life as I did during the war.’
François went to great trouble to emphasise to me, in a conversation in 2010, the environment in which they operated. ‘At any time you could be picked up off the street for no reason. It was only by having a sixth sense that many survived… We lived from one day to the next not knowing what might happen… we were terrified of the bombs, the exodus from Paris… The denunciations were horrendous. Often there was no reason. It could be that someone did not share a neighbour’s political views or they were anti-Jewish, or they just wanted to make a bit of money on the side.’
He was contemptuous of the French police, whom he described as ‘more laid-back about who they arrested’ but who, nevertheless, worked hand-in-hand with the Germans. ‘You had to be so careful about everything you did … the way you spoke, walked, ran, even your mannerisms. The way you lit and smoked a cigarette, how much money you spent, where you bought a newspaper – anything that might lead to someone noticing you.’
In May 1941, aged twenty, Andrée undertook the first of many trips on behalf of the French Resistance movement. Her only qualifications for her job as a courier were common sense, confidence and ‘sangfroid’. Unlike the couriers working for SOE (Special Operations Executive, a covert British service designed to support resistance in Europe), she had been given no formal training to help her. In typical fashion, she was unconcerned about her personal safety. She never thought of the dangers, or the implications of being caught. She simply got on with what had to be done, motivated both by patriotism and perhaps an even stronger human urge – the desire to please her adored brother. In later life she described her work in the Resistance as a game, and often said, ‘When you are young you do not think about the dangers or the risks you are running.’ Yet a courier’s job was inherently dangerous. Travelling around France in 1941 was not a safe adventure; a French citizen could be searched for no reason at all. To be caught with anything (such as information on German troop movements or indust
rial production, to give but two examples of the kind of material Andrée would carry) would inevitably lead to arrest and questioning under torture.
In the run up to her first trip to Marseilles, Andrée made an early-morning visit to her doctor, where she collected the information left by François Clerc the previous evening. She typed up the document at work, as usual making no duplicates of the report and taking the used typewriter ribbon with her, along with the document, when she left for the day. Once home, she carefully unstitched the lining in her suitcase to conceal within the ‘post’ she was taking.
She went to bed early, explaining to her parents that she would be going to Marseilles in the morning for a few days’ holiday to see Alain. Her father, quick off the mark, said he would take her to the station in the morning; her parents suspected something was afoot but decided not to express their concerns.
The train left at 6.30 a.m. Curfew finished at 5.30 a.m. and by 6.00 a.m. both Andrée and Edmond were waiting in line in the station to have her ticket, ausweiss and ID card checked. Edmond hugged his daughter and waved goodbye, trying not to let his fears show as she handed over her documents and walked towards the train.
Because the Wehrmacht had requisitioned so many trains, transport around France during the war had been substantially reduced, and the regular bombing by the RAF caused endless delays. The operating trains were always overcrowded with large numbers of officers and soldiers travelling with the civilian population. Andrée made her way onto the platform and walked along the carriages looking for a seat, hoping she wouldn’t have to stand all the way to Marseilles. Luck was on her side this time; she saw a fold-away seat by the carriage door and swiftly took it. Not long after, after the train’s departure, as she was reading her book, a German officer walking through the train noticed her with a smile, saluted and said, ‘Bonjour, Mademoiselle.’ Attempting to be helpful, he picked up her small brown case and told her there was some room left in a compartment in the middle of the carriage and that he would be happy to place it there. There was nothing to be done; Andrée could only acquiesce as her suitcase was carried away from her. The young German officer was quick to return and, offering Andrée a cigarette, tried to engage her in conversation. He was slim and fresh-faced and Andrée had to admit that she found him attractive, but she wanted to read her book and be left alone. She also knew that if she engaged with him, the people around her might well frown upon this and should she need to ask for their help later in the journey, any request might be ignored or denied.
The passengers were tightly packed into the carriages, each with a look of quiet resignation; everyone was used to difficult journeys. With so many of the railway lines being arbitrarily bombed by the Allies, trains regularly ground to an abrupt halt and passengers had to climb off the train and make their way to the next station by foot.
Andrée was lucky that this, her first proper journey, passed without any problem. The German officer who had helped her with her case left the train after a few hours, at which time Andrée decided it would be safer to collect her suitcase, rather than leave it unattended any longer. Many hours after leaving Paris, the train steamed into Marseilles. There was a sense of excitement among the passengers as they emerged from the train into a southern town free from Nazi occupation. It had been a warm spring day and the warmth in the air could still be felt.
It was dusk and Andrée knew she had to move quickly. She had never visited Marseilles before. It was a huge and potentially exciting town, but she had to be careful. François Clerc had given her the address of a reliable hotel overlooking the port. Hoping there might still be a room for her, she asked a taxi driver to take her to the hotel. The station area was congested with traffic; cars, horse-drawn carts, buses and people had all arrived to meet the train and the crowds of friends and families showed no sign of abating. After much swearing in a strong southern French accent from her driver, they managed finally to leave the station’s square.
Upon arrival at the hotel, Andrée was pleased to see that it was small and comfortable, and even happier when the owner showed her to a room overlooking the port. It was still early evening and Andrée enjoyed looking out onto the activity below as several ships were being loaded in preparation for their departure the next morning. Dinner was a bouillabaisse followed by a chocolate meringue cake. There had been so little food in Paris over the last few months that eating this southern dish of freshly cooked fish, mussels, shrimps and lobster in a wine sauce was a memory that stayed with her into old age. Feeling warm and more relaxed, Andrée went to bed and quickly fell asleep.
In the morning she woke early to the sounds of a ship sounding its horn in preparation for its departure. She dressed, paid her bill and left the hotel. She had Alain’s address and had been told to wait for him in the café below the apartment block where he lived and where he usually started his day with a café au lait. As she made her way to meet her brother, Andrée absorbed the relaxed atmosphere that reigned in the Free Zone. There was food and drink available in the cafés, bars and restaurants, and there were few controls to restrict one’s movement. The police apparently kept careful control of the port, but otherwise people were free to move around the city and the Marseilles police turned for the most part a blind eye to Resistance activities, only becoming involved if they were provoked.
Alain was relieved that Andrée had not encountered any problems and as she discreetly passed him the ‘post’, they arranged to meet later that day for lunch with his friend, Jean-Baptiste Biaggi. The three of them enjoyed themselves over the next few days, but all too soon Andrée had to make her way back home to Paris.
Between June 1941 and Christmas 1941, she made several further trips down to Marseilles. For obvious reasons, no records were kept of these trips nor of their exact dates. Like SOE, the Orion Group kept few records,* but well after the war Andrée often spoke to her children about her adventures during the war years. She always claimed ignorance as to the contents of what she carried though, saying: ‘I had no idea what information I was carrying. It was far safer for everyone involved.’
* Many of the records that were kept of SOE’s activities in France during the Second World War were mysteriously burnt at the end of the war – possibly explained by the fact that so many members of SOE continued to work for the British intelligence services after the war had ended.
12
The Birth of Orion
In 1941, a new member joined the group: Paul Labbé, a small-built, thin and highly intelligent twenty-year-old whose family lived in the Béarn area of France, in the Basque country. He and his family, and their home, Le Château d’Orion, would play a vital role in the group’s work.
Paul was a staunch monarchist, descended from a long line of devout Protestants, and had been studying law at the Sorbonne. Another member of the group, Yves de Kermoal, described him in 2012 as ‘a small chap who looked like a monk who had walked straight out of the middle ages into the twentieth century’.
On 9 February, 1941 Andrée wrote in her diary:
Alain brought his friend Paul Labbé to my party. He asked me to dance with him several times.
Alain, meanwhile, was sounding out Paul’s political views to see if he could be trusted. As their friendship grew, Paul invited Alain to stay at his home, only thirty kilometres away from the Spanish border and a couple of kilometres away from the demarcation line into the Free Zone.
The château was a seventeenth-century manor house covered in thick ivy, situated on the edge of the small hamlet of Orion and surrounded by an overgrown formal garden overlooking the Pyrenees. It had been in Paul’s mother’s family for several generations. Madame Labbé had suffered more than most at that point: her husband had recently died; she had lost a son, Jacques, killed in battle at the beginning of the war; and another son, Jean, was an officer serving in the French navy. Although Paul was technically still at university, his mother knew it would not be long before he too would be fully immersed in the war.
Nonetheless she gave her son’s new friend a warm welcome upon his arrival. The boys spent many hours walking in the hills surrounding Orion, soaking up the clean air of the Pyrenees and planning their collaboration. Paul’s family was well known throughout the area and he was confident his mother, his sister Ninon, the château retainers and other locals would help them with their plans.
Madame Labbé had met and married her husband before the First World War – a Parisian doctor whose successful hobby as a watercolour painter had earned him a strong following in the area. After her husband’s death at the beginning of 1939 and the outbreak of war once again, she left Paris and returned to her family home in the Basque country. She allowed her house to be used for Resistance meetings and as a drop-off and collection point for the couriers relaying intelligence documents, and she invited many of the Orion agents, particularly Alain and Andrée, to stay at the château. The whole group was hugely fond of Madame Labbé, whom they called Tante Marie – an unusually informal term of address in France at that time.
One of Henri d’Astier’s directives had been to find a way of helping men escape France so that they could join the army and, in 1941, Alain and Paul set up a system which would ultimately allow over 1,000 Frenchmen to use the Orion escape route to leave France. The people of Orion and the surrounding region knew the Pyrenees well, and the best routes across the border and over to Spain. Smuggling had been a way of life for some of the local families for centuries and during the war years they familiarised themselves with the German patrol times and the number of border points.
Given Orion’s rural location so close to the occupied zone, the locals regularly crossed between the two zones carrying out their errands – anyone crossing was required to carry an ausweiss and there were regular inspections by the local police or Wehrmacht. But according to Gandy, residents weren’t always subject to full checks; this was a tiny community close to the demarcation line, and procedures may have been more relaxed on occasion. Paul was presumably hopeful that getting across the line in the surrounding area might be easier than elsewhere, whether with false papers or by crossing illegally, away from the checkpoint. That is not to say that it was risk-free, particularly as the war progressed. Moving between the zones became increasingly dangerous as the demarcation line began to be policed more heavily and escapees without the right permits were picked up and arrested.
Andrée's War Page 10
