Andrée's War (6 page)

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 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.'

F
rom 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.