By Christmas, however, her indomitable spirit had prevailed. Andrée’s diary entry for 25 December 1942 suggests that, despite their troubles, the Griotteray family were coping well:
It is Christmas Day 1942 and as usual I am at work. Last night it was Christmas Eve and the whole family got together and we had the most wonderful dinner. As an hors d’oeuvre we had a vegetable salad with mayonnaise, the main course was chicken and potatoes, we had some cheese and for pudding Maman made a cake and a chocolate mousse. We had some real coffee and a liqueur. It was all thanks to Maman, who had gone to Brittany for a week and managed to find some food, which she brought back to Paris. Last week I bought myself a black silk suit with the money I got from selling two bicycle tyres and with what was left over bought myself some wooden shoes. Last Monday I was invited to a theatre gala where I won a hat from Lemonier in the tombola.’*
12 January
Tonight I am going to the Théâtre de l’Étoile with Margit. I have been several times to the cinema and have just seen Un Grand Amour with Zarah Leander, I also went to see The Count of Montecristo.
Yesterday I went shopping with Maman and bought myself a navy-blue suit. I was not asked for any clothes coupons, but I had to hand in two old suits.
There was another reason for Alain’s escape. On 15 February 1943, ‘le service du travail obligatoire’ became law. Its introduction meant that every man aged forty-five or younger was forced to do industrial labour in Germany. This latest assault on the French male population led to the creation of many more escape groups, helping men and women who wanted to join up with the Free French forces in North Africa or in London. Alain and Noël waited restlessly for the day of their departure via the route they had so carefully plotted for many others. On 21 February they finally left Paris, travelled down to the Château d’Orion before setting off to make the difficult journey across the Pyrenees.
On 22 February Andrée wrote:
The news is far from encouraging. The Germans are enduring a large number of defeats on the Eastern front and have lost several major battles in Tunisia. It is now all-out war. They are picking up thousands of men off the streets in Paris and literally sending them off to Germany. Alain said he was not going to allow this to happen to him and has disappeared. We have no idea where he is or where he has gone. Papa is so unpleasant mainly because he is so worried and upset about everything going on around him. Maman is beside herself worrying about Alain and she certainly has every reason to be. As for me, I am praying for Alain.
Three weeks ago I was invited to lunch at The Claridge by Monsieur Machenaud’s Secretary. We had a foie gras, a huge steak with béarnaise sauce and fried potatoes and for pudding a wonderful chocolate cake, the sort one could find before the war. A chauffeur was sent to pick me up from the office and, oh yes, I forgot to mention I was given two pears for Mother who was ill.*
I need to get my bike mended because it would save the soles of my shoes not to mention how much money I would not have to spend on the métro.
Crossing the Pyrenees during winter wasn’t the only challenge escapees faced. Arrival in Spain did not come with a warm welcome; ‘mountaineers’ were more often than not greeted by the Guardia Civil, who arrested them and placed them in prisons or holding camps. Meanwhile, in her book Love and War in the Pyrenees, Rosemary Bailey has estimated that in 1940 there were around 236,000 Spanish Republican refugees trying to escape Franco’s Spain – often to end up joining the Maquis wing of the French Resistance. To prevent this, the French authorities set up similar holding camps on the French side of the Pyrenees, with similar living conditions – crowded, with little food and the poorest of sanitary conditions.* Among the escapees, Bailey notes that some 40,000 were anarchists, communists and republicans, whose civil war experience was vital to the French Resistance.
On 26 February, Andrée heard from her brother:
We received a note from Alain this morning. He says he is safe and has sent us his food and tobacco ration card but we have no idea where he is.
Alain and Noël must have reached Orion by the 26th, before leaving France for the dangerous journey to freedom. The journey across the mountains took two whole days and nights; Alain and Noël knew the dangers better than anyone, but they were excited to be doing it themselves.
They left the château, wrapped up against the freezing conditions and carrying only a small shoulder bag, and made their way towards the mountains. Cold, damp mist had already settled and made it hard to see much, but their spirits were high, despite what lay ahead. Higher and higher they climbed through thick mud, with icy winds whipping their faces. As the altitude changed, the wet ground turned to ice and they started to slip and fall. Another few kilometres on and it started to snow. They stopped briefly at refuge huts along the way for a few hours’ rest, before heading on. Although they felt confident that they were heading ultimately towards freedom, they knew that once they had reached Spain they would almost certainly be picked up by the Guardia Civil.
After forty-eight hours, the boys reached the Spanish border village; as they expected, they were arrested on arrival at the bus station and taken to the Miranda prison near Santander. It was renowned for holding political prisoners on a starvation diet of dry bread with little drinking water; serious episodes of dysentery were common, resulting in severe dehydration and weakness.
Thousands of young Frenchmen were similarly interned in various prisons by the Spanish authorities during 1943. Most were held for anything up to five months before being released – usually to make way for the next wave of French escapees arriving over the border. It was common knowledge that most of these men were heading for Barcelona or Malaga to board ships bound for North Africa; their detention was intended to be temporary, to control the number of people crossing the Spanish border.
Spain released detainee lists to US and British consuls: because Alain was known to be working for the intelligence services, they secured his expedited release on 23 May 1943. Luck was on his side. As he headed via Portugal to catch a Casablanca-bound ship, he met up with Yves de Kermoal, who had also gained early release from Pampelonne prison for the same reason. Noël was still in prison but Alain was confident that he would be out soon, and reassured Yves, who was concerned about their friend. ‘Don’t worry about him. He will join us shortly, he is not the sort of person to stay locked up for very long.’12
Alain’s certainty was not misplaced; not long after he and Yves reached Morocco, Noël, Paul Labbé and Pascal Arrighi were released. They joined their friends in North Africa and all five signed up to the French army.
Many of the young men who escaped France to avoid the new forced labour laws were anti-Vichy and supported de Gaulle and the Free French, but once in Morocco they found themselves having to join a predominantly pro-Vichy French army. They, in turn, were regarded as deserters, often unwelcome, by the French troops they joined.
After de Gaulle’s arrival in Algeria, d’Astier worked with the OSS and British intelligence services to set up and train Les commandos de France, an elite group of approximately 600 pro-Gaullist Free French army recruits (officially recognised by ministerial decree on 4 May 1944). Alain, Yves, Pascal and Noël were early enlisters.* After their training, Alain was recruited as an OSS agent and was later parachuted back into France to regroup Orion. Yves, Pascal and Noël meanwhile joined le Détachement Spécial – an even more elite group of forty specially selected commandos who were trained at Le Club des Pins, a secret Algerian training camp run by British Intelligence officers.
In early August 1944, members of le Détachement Special, under d’Astier’s command and dressed in British battle-dress with berets that bore the Croix de Lorraine, left Algeria on board the Marietta Madre, captained by a Royal Naval officer. The ship was loaded with heavy arms and explosives. Their destination was the port of St Tropez, where they would become the first Frenchmen to land since 1940.†
Following their landing, the group moved north-east towards
Colmar in Alsace, now dressed as civilians while working as intelligence officers for the Allied forces. In September 1944, as part of the French armed forces, they took control of Colmar. Alain later quoted Jacques Soustelle’s tribute to the group, made at an event to commemorate Orion’s achievements in September 1985: ‘Thanks to Henri d’Astier de la Vigerie and his group of faithful followers … the Franco–African Orion alliance was further crowned by the victorious fighting of the Commandos de France. They were there, right at the front, to deliver Hitler his final blow.’
From the winter of 1940, this Resistance network had followed France’s long journey towards liberation.
*
Meanwhile, back in Paris, Alain’s family still didn’t know where he was but assumed he had headed to England, to join de Gaulle’s Free French. On 6 June 1943, some four months after his departure, Andrée wrote:
Ils mobilisent la classe de 42 entièrement. Thank goodness Alain is not here. We have however received a reassuring message and hope to get more up-to-date news next month from a chap who has gone to Sweden and has promised to send a cable to the UK on our behalf.
* Lemonier was one of the leading hat designer in Paris during the war years. Despite the heavy rationing of clothes during the war, the leading clothes designers in Paris carried on their businesses, selling primarily to the occupying forces. The gala Andrée attended was held to raise money for French prisoners of war.
* Such a lunch was not usual. It was most likely a way of thanking Andrée for some assistance given to Monsieur Machenaud – perhaps connected to her Resistance activities.
* When I visited the Château d’Orion to research this book, its German owner encouraged me to visit the camps to understand that it was not only the Germans who had run such places during the Second World War. In 2010, the French authorities began rebuilding the camps to help visitors understand what had happened in the area during the war.
* Paul Labbé was killed in a car crash in October 1943.
† At a celebration to commemorate sixty years since the landing of the Marietta Madre in St Tropez, my husband and I entertained many surviving members of the Marietta Madre, the Orion Resistance Group and the military representatives of the US and UK embassies to France.
18
Illness
In July 1943, Andrée was diagnosed with scarlet fever. The stressful conditions under which she and her fellow citizens had lived over the last few years, the food shortages, the cold winters and lack of fuel for heating, the risks involved in her Resistance work – they all took their toll on her health.
Scarlet fever was once a major cause of death; in Paris in 1943, treatment in the form of antibiotics was not available, making it a serious illness. The main symptoms are an extremely sore throat, high fever (at or above 101°F/38.3°C) and a rash, which usually starts on the neck and face and then spreads to the whole body.
During the summer Andrée had been struggling to earn some extra money by selling cigarettes and bottles of perfume, which she had been given by people she had helped to obtain passports and ID cards. Her journals during this period go into long, typically youthful descriptions about her difficulties in finding a boyfriend because so many young men had either escaped France, were planning to do so, or were prisoners of war. She also refers frequently to being very bored; her Resistance work in 1943 was less intense than it had been in previous years as while Alain was out of the country, the group’s main focus was on recruiting young men who wanted to use their escape route. Several members of the group had left for North Africa and the army. Andrée felt frustrated by her inability to do more to help her country overthrow the Germans. She had lost several friends already and was fearful of what the future might hold.
It was on 29 June that she first reported feeling unwell:
I am in bed, I am alone and I am feeling very depressed. Why do I feel like this? Is it because I am such a weak person? I have now been in bed for a whole week with a raging temperature and I have been reading Alain’s diaries written back in 1940, just after the invasion. He is so very patriotic, so determined, so single-minded in everything he wants to achieve.
Oh, I hate the Germans so much. I hate what they have done to us all and how worthless we have been made to feel.
Alain has now been gone for over four and a half months. Where can he be? What can he be doing? We have no idea. Maman is very distant and I will never get on with Yvette,* and as for Lolo, she is just a baby.
Earlier today an air-raid alarm went off. It was just dreadful.
It is 9.00 p.m. and I am so tired. Earlier today I thought about taking an aspirin overdose.
Last Monday night the Biaggis took me out to dinner. We had some liver pâté, tuna with mayonnaise, a chateaubriand with sautéed potatoes, asparagus, cheese, a coffee and rum ice cream, a peach and a Grand Marnier, but tonight I am at home alone in bed and the only thing I could find to eat was some cheese and a jam sandwich. M. Leclercq has been very kind because when I took six days’ sick leave he did not deduct any of my salary.
I have very few cigarettes or perfumes to sell, which means I have no extra money.
Yvette has broken the TSF [the radio]. I cannot stop scratching. Could there be a flea attacking me?
Her friend Mado came to visit while she was ill in bed. Andrée noted their conversation:
We talked for a long time, especially about the political situation. It is impossible for me to describe how much I hate the Germans. I will never be able to say it enough.
Andrée’s doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with her and she returned to work. On 1 July 1943, she wrote:
I am sick to death of working at Police Headquarters. I am always completely exhausted and I do not know why.
In a month’s time I will hopefully be on the shores of Lake Geneva on holiday, that is if the political situation allows me to travel.
I have to find some money for my trip. I now have a few bottles of perfume which were given to me by some grateful clients and which I can sell, along with some cigarettes, which should give me enough money to pay for my train ticket.
But things changed quickly, as she recorded a week later:
It is just unbelievable, absolutely incredible. I have been in bed since Saturday with scarlet fever and that half-wit, Doctor Charles, who I went to see last week because I felt so awful was incapable of working out what was wrong with me. I was at work for four whole days with scarlet fever. How could this have happened?
One day after work last week I went to Marthe for dinner and I had the most awful headache. I noticed that one of the glands in my neck had swollen and Marthe said she was going to take me to her doctor. He kindly agreed to see us even though it was very late and, after giving me a full examination, announced that I had scarlet fever and that I was to stay in bed for the next two weeks. I am at home, all alone. I am really angry. What a time to be ill when I need to earn some money. Luckily I started saving a while ago and so I have a bit in my moneybox. I also gave Raffini four bottles of perfume and three cartons of Gauloise to sell, so I will make some money out of that. I will not be paid while I am off work. My salary will be stopped and I will only receive a little sick pay from the Social Services.
I am in bed reading all day and it is getting a little boring.
Margit took my sick note to Police Headquarters and Monsieur Richard sent me his good wishes, hoping I would be back soon.
I have been told to stay off work for a whole month, just in case. I do not feel ill, I just feel lethargic and have no energy.
I received a telegram from Longeain who said she could not pay me a visit. She made all sorts of excuses. Everyone at work is terrified of catching scarlet fever and no one wants to come anywhere near me. So how about me? I must have caught it from someone. If only being ill could help me lose some weight but sadly I do not think it will. I am allowed to eat whatever I want and I would love some chicken, but there is no food around and so it will remain a dream.
Papanous [a friend of Alain, whom Andrée described as ‘very kind’] has just been arrested and put in prison, which is a nuisance because he was going to arrange to sell some of our tapestries. We will now be unable to sell them and we will therefore have even less money.*
Will I have enough money for my holiday to Lake Geneva? I still have to pay for the two appointments I had with Dr Charles. What a fool! He might as well have let me drop dead for all the help he gave me. The complications arising from scarlet fever can be seriously worrying.
I am so miserable and breaking off with Lucien at the beginning of the year is not helping. I have the phono on the bed next to me and it cheers me up and I am reading lots of detective novels. I must write to poor Papanous and I must write to Maman.
I wonder what sort of life lies ahead for me? At the moment it is impossible to predict anything. We could all be dead within days with the political events unfolding around us. The RAF are dropping the most enormous number of bombs over Germany and Cologne is in ruins. Margit’s boss had the nerve to say that bombing civilians is not what waging war is about, but I am strangely happy about it all. Was war about bombing Rotterdam, a city at the heart of a neutral country in 1940, killing over twenty thousand civilians and refugees, and what about the Blitz in London in 1941? As for the Italians, I will never forget what they did on 10 June 1940 [when Italy declared war on Britain and France].
Earlier today Marthe brought me some peaches and some celery. I am going to make a ‘Tipperary’ soup, which will remind me of my English girlfriends who gave me the recipe.
Before going to sleep last night I opened the windows and loudly played my record of the Royal Air Force march. It is highly unlikely that anyone could have heard it out on the streets and it was very uplifting.
It took Andrée several months to make a full recovery in the end, but her strength and determination helped her to get back on her feet and return to work some four weeks after she first fell ill. She spent a week recuperating at Evian, at an auberge overlooking Lake Geneva. She later told me: ‘Every evening I used to sit on a bench in Evian looking out onto the shores of Lake Geneva. Evian was in total darkness but Geneva was full of lights. It was so beautiful and I used to think if only I could get into Switzerland for a few days.’
Andrée's War Page 15
