The Spark of Resistance: Women Spies in WWII

by Sergeant, Kit

  She watched him for hours. Johnny, as Odette now referred to him, kept his pace as best he could, through what she imagined was stinging, freezing rain. As though monitoring Johnny was an arduous task, his guards were changed every hour, and, a few minutes after the fourth change, Johnny fell to his knees.

  Have courage, Odette thought, and then decided to shout it through the window. Someone else took up the cry, and another voice started to sing “God Save the King.” Odette faintly heard Michelle join in by humming the melody and figured she must not have known the words.

  Johnny picked himself up and waved toward the windows of the women’s wing before starting his relentless march again, his back straight and what almost looked like a smile on his face. Though she knew he couldn’t see it, Odette waved back, thinking she was proud to be in the same prison as a man like that.

  She heard the key in her cell door and jumped down from her perch, fearful that she had been caught. But it was not an SS guard who stood in the doorway. “May I come in?” Bleicher asked.

  She pushed the chair toward him, but he walked the length of her cell instead, looking almost embarrassed. At long last he sat down and offered her a cigarette.

  She accepted it. “Thank you.”

  Bleicher lit his and inhaled, the smoke leaving his mouth as he stated, “You’ve been to the Gestapo.”

  She nodded.

  “I heard what they did to you.” He glanced at her bound feet. “And I’m very sorry. You have to believe me that there was nothing I could do.”

  “I know.”

  “Is there anything I can do now?”

  She sat down on her bed. “Have you seen Peter lately?”

  “No, but I was going to see him this afternoon when I leave you.”

  “Then there is something you can do.” She pulled a blanket over her legs. “You can keep silent about this. I’m sure you know that after we were arrested in Annecy, he tried to escape from our Italian prison.”

  “I heard that he was badly beaten.”

  “Yes. And I don’t want that to happen again. If he caught wind what the Gestapo… what they did to me, he’d probably do something even more foolish. So please don’t say anything about my feet… or about my being sentenced to death.”

  He put his hand over his heart. “I won’t say a word.” He dropped his arm. “Lise, do you ever think of yourself as much as you do others?”

  “I’ve had far too much time of late to think about me. I’m becoming a very selfish woman.”

  He blinked hard behind his glasses. “I hate to see you here, Lise, among these people.”

  “These people are no more contemptible than ones you might meet on the street.” She gave a wry smile. “Especially here in Occupied Paris. Being in prison doesn’t really change people. All it serves to do is make a strong person stronger and a weak person weaker. If you look out the window, you will see one of the bravest Englishmen I’ve ever laid eyes on. Besides Peter, of course.”

  Bleicher went to the window. After a moment he turned away to wipe his foggy spectacles with a handkerchief. “To use your favorite expression, Lise, I have nothing to say.”

  “Give my love to Peter Churchill, but not a word about anything else.”

  He nodded and started for the door before turning back to her. “Lise, do you mind if I come see you again sometime?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t it rather awkward for a member of the all-powerful Abwehr to ask a condemned prisoner for permission to pay them a call?”

  “I don’t think it’s awkward at all.”

  “All right, then. I will see you soon. Au revoir, Hugo.”

  “Adieu, Lise.”

  Chapter 63

  Didi

  With Louise’s aid, Didi rented a room in northwest Paris near a Metro station. Finding a place to transmit was a different matter, however. It needed to be private enough, but not somewhere it could attract the Germans’ suspicion since she would have to visit it on a regular basis.

  Louise managed to locate an abandoned house in the suburbs belonging to a couple by the name of Dubois who had fled the city. The neighbor who’d been tasked with looking after it agreed to let Didi make her transmissions from the attic.

  Didi’s next obstacle was to deliver the transmitting assemblage to the Dubois house. The transmitter, receiver, sixty meters of wire, extra batteries, a Morse Key, frequency crystals carefully packed in a Bakelite container, and various other necessities were all stored in an attaché case. Carrying the ten-kilogram case all the way to the suburbs would be a rather arduous task, and any German on the street could ask to search her. Taking the Metro was another possibility, but she could once again be subjected to an inquiry and escaping the train would not be easy. Didi knew from her training that the invaders had grown much more hostile after four years of occupation, and stories abounded of German soldiers assaulting French citizens for the slightest provocation.

  After careful consideration, Didi decided on the Metro. She’d taken the train to Paris without incident, so it seemed like the safest way to transport the wireless set.

  Didi set out for the Dubois house in Bourg-la-Reine the next morning. As she made her way to the station, she knew she’d made the right choice—there was no way she could have lugged the heavy case much farther. When the train arrived, she managed to find an empty car and settled into a seat gratefully.

  At the next stop, several German soldiers boarded her car. Two of them sat in the seat in front of her and the others across from them. Didi refused to acknowledge them and stared out the window instead.

  “Bonjour, mademoiselle.”

  Didi turned to see one of the soldiers leering at her from across the aisle. She nodded at him before turning back to the window.

  “What’s in the case?” the soldier in front of her asked in halting French. The confusion must have been obvious in her face as he gestured toward the wireless set.

  “It’s just a gramophone.” She crossed her fingers beneath her skirt. Please don’t ask to see it.

  Thankfully he didn’t and Didi moved toward the window again but then the German across the aisle reached over to offer her a cigarette.

  “I don’t smoke,” Didi replied in a glacial tone hoping to discourage him enough that he left her alone.

  But when his eyes fell to her nicotine-stained hands, his friendly smile turned into a sneer and she instantly regretted her snub. He said something in German that Didi couldn’t catch. All four of them were now staring at her.

  Her mind told her to run, but she stayed put as the train made another stop. She returned her gaze to the window, watching the people at the station coming and going—as free as anyone could be in a country occupied by the enemy—while she sat trapped in a train car with the very same enemy soldiers, a case full of contraband that would spell her condemnation should any of them ask to open it by her side.

  Through the reflection in the window, Didi could see that the German in front was gazing at her. She felt her face grow hot. When the train slowed again, she picked up the case, suppressing a grunt at its considerable weight. Pretending that this was her stop, she made her way down the aisle as nonchalantly as she could, half-expecting to hear one of the soldiers commanding her to halt.

  Her heart hammering, she stepped onto the platform. She turned as the train started again, relieved to see the Germans still seated in the car, gaping at her as it pulled away.

  She checked the Metro sign and found she was more than two kilometers away from the Dubois house. Her legs still shaking from the close call, she began slowly heading toward Bourg-la-Reine.

  Didi let herself into the abandoned house, dreading that there would be more German soldiers waiting to trap her. “Hello?” she called out tentatively. When no one answered, she decided to explore the house.

  The best place to transmit would be from the attic, and consequently, after much effort, she hauled her case up two flights of stairs.

  In the a
ttic, more trepidation set in: what if the transmitter was damaged? What if there was too much interference and she couldn’t get through to London?

  With trembling hands, Didi began to set up the wireless. Once she’d fastened the aerial antenna under the eaves of the roof, she inserted the sugarcube-sized crystal into the transmitter and tuned in to the predetermined frequency. After fiddling with the dial, she was relieved to hear a clear signal. She transmitted an update to the SOE: “Met my contact as directed. Waiting for Savy to return.” She then disassembled everything and hid the set underneath a bunch of old blankets.

  This time, thankfully unburdened by the case, she picked a rather packed train car, hoping there would be no more surprises.

  She got off at the stop near Louise’s apartment. Louise’s family had a radio even though Hitler had made it illegal. If the Germans caught them listening to the BBC, they would be arrested. But Didi hoped the SOE would send a message through the messages personnels to let her know they’d received her transmission. Indeed, right before the end of the broadcast, the announcer stated that he was, “happy to know that the duck had a good trip.”

  Louise turned to Didi, her eyes wide. “They mean you, don’t they? Are you the duck?”

  Didi nodded, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over her. She had officially established contact with the SOE, and now she was ready to work. All she needed was to reunite with Jean Savy and they could begin their task of changing the course of the war.

  Chapter 64

  Odette

  “Céline!” It was unusually early for Michelle to be calling.

  Still half-asleep, Odette pulled the chair over to the grate. “Yes, Michelle?”

  “Céline, I’ve been released!”

  “Oh, Michelle, I will miss you!”

  “And I you, Céline.” Her voice softened to a barely audible level. “Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”

  Odette thought quickly. She recalled a Parisian address from Buck’s briefing before she left for France, which she repeated to Michelle. “Can you tell them you have spoken to the woman named Lise and that she and Peter are in Fresnes?”

  “Yes, of course. Anything for you, Céline—or should I say Lise? At any rate, good luck to you, and to this Peter as well.”

  “And to you,” Odette replied sadly. She had never laid eyes on Michelle, and now she never would, but she had been the best friend she’d had these past few months. She smiled to herself as she stepped down from her chair, picturing the look on Miss Atkins’ face when she at last got news of Odette.

  Bleicher seemed ill at ease when he came into her cell that afternoon. “They are clearing out Fresnes to make room for more Allied prisoners. I would hate to see you be sent to Germany.”

  “What do you mean? Do you think they are planning to move me?”

  “I haven’t heard, but one is helpless against the wishes of the Gestapo.”

  “Maybe they’ll release me like they did Michelle.”

  “Who?”

  She pointed to the floor. “Another prisoner.”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “No, I doubt they will release you or any of the other SOE women who are housed here.”

  Odette’s mouth dropped open. “There are more?”

  “Yes, many men and women: the Gestapo has been busy busting up Resistance networks.” He began pacing up and down her cell. “I’m going to fetch you tomorrow and take you to Paris. You can have a shower, dress in nice clothes, and I will take you to lunch.”

  She shook her head. “You asked me that before, when I first arrived here. I told you then that I could not compromise.”

  He stopped walking. “And now?” he asked hopefully.

  “My answer is the same. The time I’ve spent behind these walls has only made me more determined. Thank you for asking, but I prefer to stay here.”

  “Is that final, Lise?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at her for a few moments before putting his hand out. She looked down at her feet instead of accepting it. He frowned as he thrust both hands into his pockets. “Then this will be my last visit. I shall not come to see you again.”

  “As you wish, Hugo.”

  “Goodbye then, Lise.” He opened the door before hesitating. “And may I say, you are one of the bravest women I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”

  She flexed a nailess toe. “Let’s hope I can stay that brave.”

  “You will.” He gave her a sad little wave before he left.

  Chapter 65

  Didi

  A few days after Didi arrived in France, Louise told her that Savy was back in Paris and waiting to touch base with her in a flat belonging to a Resistance sympathizer.

  After greeting Didi, Savy told her that France Antelme had been captured.

  “What?” Didi sat in an armchair. “How?”

  Savy remained standing. “Upon arrival. Antelme, his wireless operator, and their courier, a woman codenamed Martine, are all missing. They were supposed to land near Poitiers, but somehow they were dropped off in Sainville. Their reception committee must have been Germans because no one’s heard from them since that night.”

  They’d been scheduled to arrive only two days before Savy and Didi herself. “What should we do?”

  “I don’t know,” Savy answered. “But my best prediction is that the whole Prosper circuit has been compromised, and for our safety, I should find new contacts.”

  She nodded.

  Savy had been tasked with preparing for the much-anticipated Allied invasion of France. While the actual date was top-secret, most people, including the Germans, assumed it was coming soon. Savy spent his days training new Resistance recruits and securing funding from trustworthy Parisians.

  The would-be Resistance financiers were often nervous that their loans would not be backed by English banks. Savy would then ask them to name a word or phrase which Didi would dutifully send back to the SOE. A day or two later, the BBC would repeat the phrase in their messages personnels, convincing the nationals to finance the loan. It was also Didi’s job to pass on Savy’s communications to London and arrange for more Resistance supplies to be dropped into fields near Paris.

  Her daily itinerary was dictated by the cadence of her skeds. The maximum time Didi could transmit was twenty minutes—any longer would run the risk of the Gestapo vans locating her signal.

  It was taxing work, but every time Didi put her hands on the dials of her wireless, any weariness was replaced by feelings of power and patriotism. Gone were the pangs of helplessness that had plagued her since the beginning of the Occupation, when her family was forced to move from Paris to the countryside. The Germans might still be overrunning France, but for once there was something she could do about it.

  When she wasn’t with Savy or listening to the BBC broadcasts in Louise’s flat, she was completely alone. She’d often pass by warm-looking cafés, and dream of a steaming cup of coffee coupled with casual conversation, but she knew the only patrons in such indulgent places were the Boches. Besides, she’d become used to the solitary life of a spy: a life spent in shadows, always looking over her shoulder. She wondered if Jackie lived a similar life, if her sister indeed were still alive. The Germans were getting increasingly paranoid and every day Savy told her of more Resistance contacts who had been arrested.

  One day, while meeting Savy once again in the safehouse, he informed her he’d discovered something that could only be relayed to Buckmaster in person.

  “What is it?” Didi inquired.

  He looked around the empty apartment. “I saw V-2 rockets in an ammunition dump located about 60 kilometers northeast of Paris.”

  “Are they aimed at England?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “I’ll arrange for a Lysander pick-up right away.” Her sked time wasn’t for another couple of hours, but Didi left for Bourg-la-Reine anyway, hoping a capable FANY would be scanning the transmissions.

  Didi was too o
ccupied with the possibility of London’s demise to worry much about her own safety, though she found herself pretending to gaze into a shop window when a German passed her on the street, to make sure she wasn’t being followed.

  Chapter 66

  Mathilde

  Mathilde’s life in the D-wing of Aylesbury Prison fell into a routine. As Stella had declared, the food wasn’t overly terrible, and a guard delivered fresh fruit a few days a week, courtesy of the allowance provided to Mathilde by the SOE.

  Stella was by far Mathilde’s favorite of the other prisoners. The younger woman could sometimes be a bit too raunchy for Mathilde’s taste—that first night after lights-out, Stella had spoken in depth of the difference in lovemaking between Englishmen and the French—but she made a better companion than the other two, who were much older and inclined to be stand-offish. It was clear the Duchess and May had known each other before, and Mathilde gradually worked out that May had been one of the domestic servants at Château Thierry, as she often stood over the Duchess’s shoulder, waiting for instructions.

  “May spied for both Russia and Germany,” Stella confided to Mathilde one day as they walked in the prison garden.

  “Wasn’t she aware they are on opposite sides of the war?” Mathilde replied.

  Stella shrugged. “She claims it was not out of allegiance for either country, but because her lover asked her too. He was shot by the Germans and then May was arrested.”