by Matthew Cobb
205 See ‘Terrorism cuts both ways’, Time, 8 September 1941. Tony Bloncourt and Roger Hanlet shot at the German officer in the Bastille Métro station. Berlière & Liaigre (2004), p. 118.
206 Brustlein’s 1989 account, quoted in Berlière & Liaigre (2004), pp. 130–1.
207 A German teacher in Nantes who knew Hotz well claimed in his diary that the dead man ‘was in no sense a Hitlerian’ (Gildea, 2003, p. 165). However, Hotz encouraged his subordinates to impose a ‘strict control’ of the Jewish population in order to ensure they were not exercising a profession that was forbidden under the new anti-Semitic laws (Berlière & Liaigre, 2004, p. 333, n. 560). Further, it seems unlikely that Hotz could have reached such a distinguished position without being ‘Hitlerian’ in at least some sense. For a general account of how the French responded to the Occupation, see Gildea (2002).
208 On 22 September Jean Guéhenno wrote in his diary: ‘Twelve hostages were shot the day before yesterday, in reprisal following an attack against a German army officer. And Stülpnagel warns us that he will do much better the next time. At the other end of Europe, Leningrad, Kiev and Odessa are besieged, and every day thousands of men die. This thought virtually never leaves me.’ Guéhenno (2002), p. 188.
209 Berlière & Liaigre (2004), p. 62.
210 Terrisse (1993), pp. 83–4.
211 Guéhenno (2002), p. 200.
212 Berlière & Liaigre (2004), p. 134.
213 There are conflicting views on why forty-eight hostages were killed, not fifty. Neumaier (2006) argues convincingly that the Germans simply made a mistake, and named two hostages who were not in fact in custody at the time.
214 Krivopissko (2006), pp. 80–1. In October 2007 Moquet’s letter became a subject of national debate. First, the letter was tastelessly read to the French rugby team in the dressing room shortly before their opening match in the 2007 Rugby World Cup, apparently to motivate them. Embarrassingly, they lost. Then, on 22 October 2007, President Sarkozy ordered the letter to be read out in all French high schools. Many teachers were outraged by what they saw as an attempt to manipulate the history of the Resistance and to interfere in the education system (Le Monde, 23 October 2007).
215 Guéhenno (2002), p. 201.
216 Guéhenno (2002), p. 201.
217 Debarge (2001), p. 38. This is the third version of Debarge’s notebooks to be published, but the only one that is reliable. It contains a concordance of the differences between the three editions, and a depressing account of how the PCF manipulated the text for its own ends in the post-war period.
218 In his notebook, Debarge repeatedly claims that a derailment he carried out in September 1941 at Quiéry-la-Motte led to the death of fifty Nazi soldiers.
219 Dejonghe & Le Maner (2000), p. 298.
220 Conrad Miret-Muste said to Brustlein: ‘On behalf of the Party leadership, I say to you: “Well done, lads! Now we should go for von Stülpnagel.”’ Berlière & Liaigre (2004), p. 141. One of the participants, Tony Bloncourt, eventually began to wonder how he could be certain that the leadership had in fact wanted them to carry out these actions (Berlière & Liaigre, 2004, p. 220). This, however, was understandable paranoia caused by their isolation. They were indeed carrying out the orders of the Party and, ultimately, of Stalin. For these young people there could be no higher calling.
221 Berlière & Liaigre (2004), p. 88.
222 Reproduced in Noguères et al. (1969), p. 156. They point out that in the version of this text that was subsequently published by de Gaulle in his memoirs, the phrase ‘not to kill Germans openly’ replaced the blunter ‘not to kill Germans’, which was how it was originally pronounced on the BBC.
223 ‘While the derailment of a munitions train that leads to the arrest of a devoted militant is a pin-prick for Hitler, it’s a serious loss for the working class, which lacks leaders . . . The masses hate the regime. But they do not yet believe in the possibilities of struggle, because Hitler continues to win victories, even if they are costly . . . It would be a profound error to sacrifice the working-class vanguard – that is, tomorrow’s Revolution – for the mediocre results of the current sabotage campaign.’ La Vérité 20, 15 September 1941, p. 1. Reproduced in Anonymous (1978), p. 59.
224 Lévy-Osbert (1992), p. 52.
225 Guéhenno (2002), p. 202.
226 Naïtchenko (2003), pp. 246–7.
227 Courtois (1980), p. 239.
228 Berlière & Liaigre (2004), p. 325, n. 422.
229 For analyses of the Nazi reprisal policy, see Besse & Pouty (2006) and Neumaier (2006).
230 One of the most notorious of these was the trial that took place in the Maison de la Chimie – see Rossel-Kirschen (2002). Courtois (1980, pp. 201–2, n. 24) suggests that Péri could have been saved but that the PCF leadership around Jacques Duclos preferred to gain a martyr and rid themselves of a troublesome independent thinker. Given the brutal cynicism of the Stalinist leadership, this is quite possible.
231 Rémy (1948), p. 328.
232 Calculation from Berlière & Liaigre (2004), p. 246.
233 Naïtchenko (2003), pp. 254–5.
234 Berlière & Liaigre (2004), p. 255.
235 Pineau (1960), p. 94.
236 de Montety (2005), p. 275.
237 de Montety (2005), p. 278.
CHAPTER 4
238 See list of all RAF flights to France in Verity (2000), pp. 191–210.
239 Noguères et al. (1969), p. 141. The boys also met de Gaulle, but because of the row over his Brazzaville comments, this was not publicized. A slightly different version of the boys’ account can be found at http://www.france-libre.net/temoignages_ documents/1_6_1_8_Manche_en_canoe.htm (accessed August 2008). A photo of their visit to 10 Downing Street, mistitled as ‘French scouts who are going to join the FFL Naval School’, can be found in Noguères et al. (1967) between pp. 368 and 369.
240 Much of what follows about Moulin is based on the work of Daniel Cordier (Cordier 1989a, 1989b, 1993a, 1999). During the final months of Moulin’s life, Cordier was his secretary; in the 1980s Cordier ceased being an art dealer and became Moulin’s biographer in an attempt to counter Frenay’s 1977 allegation that Moulin had been a Soviet agent. The four massive volumes of Cordier’s (unfinished) project (over 4,000 pages) are a masterly account of Moulin’s life and work.
241 Baynac (2007), p. 71. Cot moved to the USA after de Gaulle decided not to give him a post in the Free French apparatus, while Dolivet moved in January 1941, shortly after meeting Moulin in Marseilles. Cot is thought to have been the source of the $3,000 that Moulin received from the USA at the beginning of 1941, but there is no clear evidence for this (Baynac, 2007, p. 129). Cot eventually rallied to de Gaulle, and in 1943 was sent to negotiate with the USSR. After the war Dolivet went to Hollywood, became a close friend of Orson Welles and produced Welles’ 1955 film Mr Arkadin. Péan (1998), followed by Marnham (2000), insinuates that Cot and Dolivet were linked to Soviet Intelligence and may have directly or indirectly involved Moulin. There is no evidence for this (see note 9 below). For a sober discussion of Moulin’s relation to the entourage of Pierre Cot, see Jansen (2000).
242 Moulin met Pierre Meunier and Robert Chambeiron several times in Paris between November 1940 and April 1941 and discussed collecting material for his report. Meunier (1993).
243 Some of Moulin’s contacts over this period were with people connected with foreign Intelligence services, including Harry Robinson, the Paris chief of Soviet Intelligence, and Toussaint Raffini, a member of an MI6 intelligence circuit. These facts have excited a great deal of speculation, but there is no evidence that Moulin knew of the clandestine activities of these people. Moulin claimed he helped produce and give out Resistance material in Marseilles and Montpellier. Cordier (1999), p. 68. This may not have been the case – see Douzou (2000), p. 91.
244 Howard L. Brooks, ‘Confidential report on France’, sent to International Free World Association (n.d. autumn 1941?). Partially reproduced in Baynac (1998),
pp. 419–26. For the full report, see US National Archives RG OSS E 92, Box 99, Folder 17. Dolivet wanted the proposed ‘service’ to run through Geneva, apparently with the aid of the British. But because of MI6’s decision to veto all collaboration with Dolivet, none of Brooks’ telegrams to the USA, sent via the British in Geneva, were ever transmitted (Péan, 1998, pp. 323 and 342–3; see also pp. 2–3 of Brooks’ report – Baynac, 1998, pp. 421–2). On his return to the US, Brooks gave an account of his mission to a British agent in New York (Baynac, 2007, p. 184). He also discussed with OSS agent John Hughes in May 1942, and made a good impression on OSS spy chief Allen Dulles, who called him ‘a solid citizen’ (Memorandum from Allen Dulles to Hugh R. Wilson, 16 May 1942, US National Archives RG OSS E 92, Box 99, Folder 17). Baynac (1998) p. 94, cites an FBI report which states that Brooks’ mission had the support of the US Office of Strategic Services (OSS) – the forerunner of the CIA. This report dates from 1967, and merely quotes another source, from 1947. There is no contemporary proof of the involvement of OSS, or any other US agency, in the Brooks mission. Note that OSS was created only in June 1942, while its predecessor, the Office of the Coordinator of Information, was not set up until June 1941, by which time Brooks was already in France – see Srodes (1999). The British were suspicious of Brooks, as they were of other Americans in France at the time (Baynac, 2007, p. 83).
245 Péan (1998), pp. 307–16.
246 Péan (1998), pp. 317–20 and 324–34. On 2 June 1941 the man who was most enthusiastic about using Dolivet, the Labour Minister of Economic Warfare, Hugh Dalton, apparently accepted that ‘The final decision [about working with Dolivet] will be taken by MI5’ (Péan, 1998, p. 332). Péan’s book has virtually no references to the copious archive material he cites, and the reader is therefore obliged to take his sources, translations and editing on trust. Dolivet had been a supporter of the Comintern, the international organization of Communist Parties. Cot was a Stalinist fellow-traveller, while the director of the USC in France was Noel Field, who had been recruited by Soviet Intelligence in 1935. Péan (1998) insinuates that the Brooks mission was a Stalinist plot, while Baynac (2007) claims that it was designed ‘to put the Resistance under the financial control of the USA’ (Baynac, 2007, p. 183). The truth is much simpler. Dolivet and Cot wanted to support the Resistance and to encourage US intervention in the war. They were prepared to work with any number of clandestine services – Dolivet’s approaches to the British prove as much – but in 1941 none was prepared to help the Brooks mission. There is no evidence that at this time Moscow had anything to do with Field, or the USC, or Cot or Dolivet. Dolivet was in close contact with British Intelligence (see above) and was viewed with deep suspicion by Harry Robinson, the chief Soviet agent in Paris (Baynac, 2007, p. 88). Nor is there any proof that any US or British agency was involved in setting up or supporting the Brooks mission (indeed, the British apparently sabotaged Brooks’ communications). Field became a Communist in the 1920s and an NKVD (Soviet Intelligence) agent in 1935 when he worked for the League of Nations in Switzerland. In 1937, during the Stalinist purges, his NKVD handlers, Reiss and Krivitsky, broke with Moscow. Krivitsky defected to the West, while Reiss became a Trotskyist, publicly denouncing Stalinism, before being murdered by his ex-comrades. Field’s last contact with the NKVD was in 1938, when he participated in the plot to assassinate Reiss. Field subsequently joined the USC, where he gave preferential treatment to Communist refugees. According to a study made after the opening of the East European archives, Field ‘did not do this at the direction of Soviet Intelligence, which had not re-established contact with him after his 1938 Moscow visit’. Schmidt (2004), pp. 234–5.
247 See Brooks (1942). For Fry’s amazing story, see Marino (1999).
248 In his memoirs, written in the 1970s, Frenay claims he had previously met Brooks in 1940 (Frenay, 1976, p. 88). There is no evidence that Brooks travelled to France before May 1941; it appears that Frenay’s memory failed him.
249 Brooks (1942), p. 105.
250 Brooks (1942), p. 106. Frenay was suspicious of Moulin because he was not linked to any movement, and he might therefore be either a Communist – in which case Frenay thought he would be untrustworthy – or a ‘de Gaullist’ – in which case he would be watched by the police. Despite Frenay’s doubts, the meeting eventually took place in Marseilles in August 1941, shortly before Brooks returned to the USA. A depressing amount of energy and bile has been dispensed by French historians on the subject of the exact date of this meeting – for which there is no decisive proof, Frenay himself giving contradictory dates. Behind the squabbling lurks the spectre of Moulin’s supposed links with Soviet Intelligence. If Moulin was a Stalinist agent, goes the argument, he would have shown a clear commitment to go to London only after Hitler’s attack on the Soviet Union in June 1941. Therefore, continues the argument, those like Daniel Cordier who claim that Moulin was not a Stalinist agent have insisted that the meeting took place before June 1941. Whatever may have been Cordier’s motivations, a number of authors, such as Belot (2003) and myself, do not consider that Moulin was a Soviet agent and are quite happy to accept that the meeting with Frenay took place in August. Cordier now apparently accepts this. Baynac (2007), pp. 142–4, contains a triumphant and somewhat tendentious account of the dispute.
251 Frenay (1976), p. 90.
252 For photos of Moulin’s two residences in Lisbon, see Lecourt (1999).
253 The history of SOE has been written many times. The most important summaries are by Mackenzie (2000) and Foot (2004). For an overview of SOE’s history and activity, see the memoirs of its main historian, M. R. D. Foot (Foot, 2008). For an insight into how people were recruited to SOE without even knowing what they were working for, and the perils that awaited them, see Nigel Perrin’s biography of SOE agent Harry Peulevé (Perrin, 2008). SOE knew Moulin was going to Lisbon – they had heard of his plans back in April, through Louis Dolivet (Péan, 1998, p. 317–20). Throughout the summer Dolivet pestered Lisbon about Moulin’s supposedly imminent arrival, much to the irritation of the embassy. When Dolivet finally heard that Moulin had arrived in Lisbon, he cabled SOE in London, urging his old friend to come to New York (NA HS 7/220, p. 1612). London duly transmitted the message to Moulin, who merely reiterated his determination to go to London and sound out the Free French (Péan, 1998, pp. 320 and 365–6; Baynac, 2007, p. 211). According to a message from SOE Lisbon to London, Moulin claimed he had not seen Dolivet for two years (Baynac, 2007, p. 212). If this was an accurate transcription of Moulin’s response, he either told a deliberate lie or was confused: the two men had met in Marseilles ten months earlier, at the end of 1940.
254 Baynac (2007), p. 225. By this time Moulin had already been in London for over a month.
255 That evening Moulin wrote a letter to Pierre Cot: ‘I am happy to be able finally to write to you from a free country, and to send you my fondest regards . . . For some time, you’ve known that I have decided not to go to America, thinking that I could better help our poor country by following another road and being closer to our British friends. On the other hand, I heard, from various sources, that you were more useful in the USA, and that you are still working hard for the Allied cause. To each their destiny . . . In France, despite the spectre of Communism, so carefully conjured up by Berlin, Paris and Vichy, we are bearing up, and morale in the Occupied Zone is fantastic. We will have a great victory.’ Cordier (1999), p. 80.
256 Cordier (1999), p. 80.
257 Piquet-Wicks (1957), p. 41.
258 There are no records of the meeting. Emmanuel d’Astier’s description of his first meeting with de Gaulle is striking: ‘He’s even taller than one expects. His movements are slow and heavy like his nose. His small head and waxen face are carried on a body of indeterminate structure. His most habitual gesture is to raise his forearms while keeping his elbows to his side. At these moments, his inert, very white, rather feminine hands, their palms turned downwards and attached to his arms by too-slender
wrists, seem to be raising a whole world of abstract burdens.’ D’Astier (1958), p. 72.
259 The US considered that the Free French Intelligence (BCRA) was ‘an agency of the Gestapo’. Cordier (1999), p. 135. For an examination of the various ‘affairs’ that were used to justify this view, in particular the death of a prisoner in BCRA’s jail in its Duke Street headquarters in London, see Belot (2006a), pp. 532–47.
260 Brossolette (1976), p. 144. This letter to Pierre Cot has never been found, and may never have existed; this quote is based on the memory of Pierre Brossolette’s wife, Gilberte, recalling a conversation with Pierre Cot. The passage in her memoirs reads: ‘Discussing the role that the head of state might play, once peace came, seemed premature to him [Pierre Brossolette]. He would decide later. He said that to me. He also said it to close friends like Daniel Mayer and Pierre Cot. The latter said to me one day: “There were many of us who thought that way. Jean Moulin himself, my old chef de cabinet, my friend, wrote to me in his letters: For the moment, we must be with de Gaulle. Afterwards, we’ll see.”’
261 ‘Interview with M. Moulins’ (sic), document dated 4.11.41. NA FO 898/198, p. 3.
262 All references are to the SOE English translation of Moulin’s document, ‘Report on the activities, plans and requirements of the groups formed in France with a view to the eventual liberation of the country’, which was used at the time. Foot (2004), pp. 437–46. There has been some debate by French historians over the implications of the terms used by Moulin to describe his relations with the three Resistance groups (only one of which he had any contact with). The SOE translation says that he had been ‘entrusted’ with writing the report by the Resistance, and concludes that he was ‘a mere messenger, briefed by the movements LLL to transmit an SOS to London’ (Foot, 2004, p. 445). The SOE summary of Moulin’s situation, before he arrived in the UK, says that ‘he had been commissioned by “Libération”, “Libération Nationale” and “Liberté” to place their case before the British and de Gaulle authorities’ (NA HS 7/220, p. 1612, document dated 26–30.9.41). Some historians have argued that Moulin was ‘bluffing’ by pretending to have been ‘mandated’ by the groups, when in fact he was not. These arguments revolve around different French translations of the English translation by SOE. The French original does not seem to have been found. This fact, the relevance of which does not seem to have been recognized by French historians, is indicated by Belot (2000), p. 397, n. 51. The two contemporary English translations – ‘entrusted’ and ‘commissioned . . . to place their case’ – do not seem too far off the real situation.