Young, Brave and Beautiful

by Tania Szabô

  High above in the forested hills was the Château de la Moissonnière in Canteleu, explained Pierre. This beautiful château had been occupied by the Germans and had become one of the command posts for troops stationed in the Seine-Inférieur who were attached to the defence of the Atlantic Wall. The area was more heavily guarded than any area Violette had so far seen. Also, as troops were stationed in the château, it meant there was a supply of troops ready for twenty-four-hour close surveillance.

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  Laughing and chatting, the two seemingly innocent young people rode all the way back into town, stopped for a coffee in a bar on the Quai de la Bourse and then continued north-east and on to the other side of the town, to Bois-Guillaume and Mont-Saint-Aignan. Here they had a quick recce of the German naval headquarters in the Château Jean-Pierre. Their frivolity was not all false front; they were two young good-looking people enjoying their task together. This cover was used for all it was worth but neither let down their guard for one moment. There were far too many checkpoints and soldiers, police and Milice about. From the vantage point of the high northern plateau, Violette was shocked anew by how much of Rouen had been flattened in the 19 April Allied bombing raid.

  Château Jean-Pierre of Mont-Saint-Aignan and the manor house, Tamareau, had been requisitioned by the German navy. Violette could see no connection to the main energy supplies in Rouen and asked Pierre about this. He explained that they must have installed their own stocks of oil and coal in deep bunkers and that they had their own generators. There were also a number of concrete structures for housing officers and ordinary seamen.

  Pierre, who had a good command of German, had overheard a German officer talking to an admiral that the German code name for the underground factories was ‘Granit 1308’. As they left he also told her a story from Ginette, the eight-year-old daughter of his father’s neighbour. ‘It seems there’s a launch site for some flying torpedo in the forest not far from Saint-Saëns. Ginette’s father was required last year to work near Buchy. One day, the Germans came looking for people and, at their insistence, he left between four Germans, which was not very reassuring. It was explained to him that he and some others were going to work for these Germans. They took him to the station in Sotteville in the morning and they embarked for Buchy. Ginette heard her father say to a mate before leaving, “We’ve got contacts with the Résistance and we have the order to do whatever we can so that this runway will never work.” They committed small acts of unnoticeable sabotage so that it would not operate properly. Production must have been near to zero. Her father was responsible for transporting sacks of cement to make the runways and Ginette heard her father admit, “There were days when, for the whole day, I took the same sack back and forth in my wheelbarrow.” In the end, that runway, the one in Buchy, never worked.’

  Pierre then went on to tell Violette exactly where this runway or launch ramp was, being under the Bois de Clairefeuille, in the commune of Monterolier-Buchy and about two to three miles west of Buchy. It was a network of underground galleries dug deep into the ‘marne’82 for protection from bombing and to stock Hitler’s secret weapons. In their obsession, German planners ordered the extracted chalk dumped in adjoining fields to be painted green to conceal their activities. They both laughed over the camouflage attempt.

  In fact, it was various groups in the Résistance and Colonel Michel Hollard, leader of the Agir83 Résistants, who informed SOE of the launch base that Violette was now able to confirm with the added intelligence she had gained. Rockets were brought there by train on the railway line with a small branch line built to the caves and launch site. The site had its own diesel generators to produce electricity. Another exit for reaching launch ramps closer to the coast led to Saint-Saëns along a river and was not known by many people. Violette took in everything Pierre said, asking pertinent questions from time to time.

  As the day darkened into late evening, Violette bade Pierre farewell with a fond kiss on both cheeks and grateful thanks from herself and her masters in England. She then hurriedly rode towards her hotel.

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  A few yards from the hotel, she was stopped again, this time by a French police officer.

  ‘Mademoiselle, it’s very late. You should not be riding your bike on the streets. I must take you to the commissariat so you can explain yourself to my superior.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I was having a meal with a friend and we forgot the time. I’m two steps from where I live. There’s two minutes to curfew and you can see the sign on my hotel from here.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you will follow me, I insist.’

  Fear stuck in her gullet, her heart pounded and her knees were unhappy carrying her slight weight. But she pulled herself together sufficiently to say with all the dignity she could muster: ‘I’m most affronted by this. I shall not be treated like some little tramp!’

  ‘I am sorry, mademoiselle, I am only doing my job and it is curfew. I must take you to my superior so he can make his judgement on whether you have violated the law of the land.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, don’t be so pompous. Don’t you realise how much dreadful damage has been done to this town and its people. I’ve lost my uncle, my aunt has died, another has lost her house and everything—’

  ‘I understand, mademoiselle, but orders are orders. Please follow me. It won’t take long.’

  And so they walked to the police station not far away, the police officer having taken charge of her bike to prevent her from jumping on it and pedalling away.

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  As soon as Violette was brought before the Capitaine de Police she launched her attack, ‘I really do not understand this young sergeant, sir. I had just finished a meal with a friend where we were discussing the awful events of Wednesday before riding back to my hotel. I can’t find my missing uncle. One of my aunts was killed and another made homeless. It’s just too awful to bear. And now this.’ And she burst into tears. It was easy: pent-up fears and tension from all that had happened brought the tears rolling down.

  ‘Calm down, mademoiselle, and take a seat.’ His eyes stared at her coldly. ‘You must realise you are out late and committing an infraction of the law by being out after curfew. There’s no excuse for that. Now tell me your name and give me your papers. I think I’ve seen you about. You will tell me exactly where you’ve been and why.’

  Capitaine Le Roux was a large man. His cold unsympathetic eyes stared down at her papers. His lips were clamped shut. At that moment, another policeman entered. ‘Bonsoir, Le Roux, vous avez les documents et les prisonniers?’

  ‘Attendez, attendez Déterville! This young woman’s been seen around town the last couple of weeks looking for some relative, she says. Name’s Leroy, Corinne. Secretary from rue Thiers in Le Havre. But I’m wondering how she can be living in a hotel for a couple of weeks on a secretary’s pay, owned by an enemy sympathiser, by the way. Some silly old duck needing a good fuck! Ha, ha, see how poetic I can be, Déterville?’

  ‘Sure, you’ll soon make it to the Académie française!84 Look, these documents need to be delivered to Alie in double quick time!’

  ‘Okay, okay! First, I have to interrogate this pretty doll. I’ll get the documents ready and the driver’ll get me and them to Alie. We’ve caught a whole new bunch of terroristes and I want to get to the Palais and let the Chief deal with them.’

  ‘Be quick about it, then. Ten minutes, no more. Then you get your fat arse over to Alie.’ With that, Déterville stormed out. He hoped he’d not given that slug sufficient time to do any real harm. He’d wait around outside for the girl, whom he’d seen hustled into the police station by the arresting sergeant. He’d heard about the girl. Courageous and diligent in everything she’d done so far. She must have gained a tremendous amount of information; for that reason alone he must ensure she got out. There was nothing he could do at the moment without blowing his cover. As Alie’s deputy, Déterville had been able to save many people from torture or death. He also provi
ded valuable intelligence for London on Gestapo, Milice and military movements.

  Back in the office, the captain continued, ‘Now, mademoiselle, tell me what you’re doing in Rouen.’

  ‘I came from Paris about a week ago on my way home to Le Havre. I was asked to search for an uncle who’s missing in this area. It seemed he might’ve got caught in one of the enemy raids that have destroyed so much. They’ve killed my aunt and made another one homeless.’

  ‘Yes, yes. What’s your address?’

  ‘Here or in Le Havre, sir?’

  ‘Le Havre, of course.’

  ‘Well, it’s on my identity card, sir.’

  ‘Yes, yes, and here?’

  ‘At the little hotel in rue Saint-Romain.’

  ‘Did you find your uncle?’

  ‘No. And worse still, an aunt was killed in the bombing this week. Another has lost her house and everything in it. I can’t bear it.’ She sobbed again, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  ‘Yes, you said. Stop blubbing! Now, why’re you out at curfew?’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t r-really. I spent a few minutes too long in a c-café with a f-friend, deciding how to help my surviving aunt. Nobody has been able to help me find my uncle. I thought the authorities would be able to tell me something. But I still had time to get back to the hotel before curfew. After all, I was on my bike. Then the sergeant stopped me a couple of minutes before curfew and insisted I come to you when I could’ve reached the hotel in time. We could see it from where he arrested me. It’s not fair, sir. I demand an apology. Because of him, I am out after curfew. I’ve no intention of breaking any law. And, honestly, I’m scared of more bombing.’ And she wept again.

  ‘Humph! Well, you should’ve been more aware of the time. I have more important things to do now, so you can leave. Ride straight to your hotel. I want you back in here tomorrow afternoon at four sharp. Do you understand? Better be questioned by me than Alie. Got it?’

  It was clear from Le Roux’s face that he was loath to leave off the questioning. But those bloody prisoners and documents had to be got over to Alie. However, he would need (and wanted, as she was a good-looking piece of skirt) more time to break the girl and would enjoy meting out rougher treatment. Tomorrow should do it. She couldn’t get away between now and then, especially with all the checks at the stations and in the streets. Her name and description was already on all their lists, too. Still, as soon as he got back, he’d put a tail on her. Meanwhile the duty flic85 could watch the hotel and arrest her on some trumped-up charge if she came out.

  ‘Here’s your papers. Four o’clock tomorrow!’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I won’t be late.’ Violette picked up her papers and turned to leave. As she did, Le Roux added, ‘And I suggest you don’t try to leave Rouen.’

  ‘No, sir! I certainly won’t.’ She gave a watery smile and said, ‘I haven’t finished here yet as I must try to help my aunt, if only by being with her for a few days more.’ She opened the door and walked out, closing it gently behind her.

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  As she left the building, a voice called her, ‘Mademoiselle!’

  She turned around to find the other police officer there. Again afraid of what was coming next, she mustered her courage and said a firm ‘Yes?’

  ‘Glad to see you weren’t too long in there!’ He gave her a wink as he said this. ‘Follow me, please.’ Violette was stunned and terrified.

  Déterville marched her smartly to his waiting car. Before opening the door, he said, ‘Mademoiselle Corinne, the blossoms are lovely but the wind’s blowing them away, as they will your fears, I hope.’

  Her surprise left her open-mouthed until she managed to reply, ‘Yes, spring’s on the way,’ but she couldn’t remember the phrase correctly.

  He continued, ‘I’ve heard interesting things about you, mademoiselle, and am honoured to meet you. However, you must leave Rouen. Is your work complete?’

  ‘Yes, it is, sir. Thank you. I must retrieve my bike. I’m off to Paris. Are you really Alie’s deputy? They call him and his team of henchmen the French Gestapo. I’m told he’s utterly ruthless in getting information and trapping Résistants.’

  ‘Yes, I am. And yes he is. It’s a dangerous game but I have to say I enjoy obstructing that French Nazi. Now, I’ll take you to your hotel. I know where it is. Friends have been watching out for you these last few days. You must leave tomorrow, if you can. Is that possible?’

  ‘Oh yes, I should think so, by bike if necessary. I can’t thank you enough, Inspector Déterville. I think you have saved my life or at least, saved me from a few very nasty sessions in there.’

  ‘Sergeant, take this young woman’s bike to rue Saint-Romain – Madame Thivier’s hotel. She’s coming with me,’ he ordered the sergeant standing guard.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The sergeant had been just about to take a break. He came out cursing the order and saw Violette step into Déterville’s car. He thought it odd, but knew Déterville had an eye for the pretty ones and wished him luck.

  The black Citroën took a circuitous route back to the hotel. As they went, Déterville examined the young woman beside him and saw the strain etched on her lovely face. He told her quite a lot about Chief Inspector Alie and his deeds, warning her again that she must leave the hotel at dawn before the morning relief got there. Thank goodness, he thought to himself, that he had a fine reputation as a Don Juan. He would remember to a make some comment about the pretty woman beside him to satisfy the curious.

  Five minutes later, he dropped her off, thanking her for all that she was doing for his compatriots. She thanked him in turn for his work and for saving her.

  Violette walked into the safety of the hotel, relieved, shaken and weak with exhaustion.

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  81 Fichez le camp = Scram!, Bugger off!

  82 ‘Marne’ is a kind of soft lime that is very easy to excavate. Often land will subside into natural caves formed millions of years ago. It is this very terrain that made digging the huge Diables Noirs complex hide-out possible as well as the caverns used and extended by the Germans.

  83 ‘Agir’ means ‘to act’; a great name for a group of Résistants acting to free their country.

  84 The Académie française is the most prestigious academy in France, created in 1635. It has up to forty members, who may become ‘les immortals’, responsible for defining and defending the French language, awarding literary prizes, creating social benefits and advancing the dictionary. Its members included Jean Racine, Jean de la Fontaine, Jean Cocteau and Jean-Paul Sartre. In recent years the members include women writers of note including Marguerite Yourcenar and Assia Djebar.

  85 flic = copper (policeman).

  19

  Back at the Hotel, Planning to Flee, Hasty Retreat to Paris

  Night of Saturday 22 to Sunday 23 April 1944

  It was time for Violette to return to Paris. She sat in the empty breakfast room of the hotel to plan her next moves carefully. If she remained any longer in Rouen, she would soon be arrested and forcefully interrogated. She very much doubted she would be as lucky as last time. The Gestapo and the French police attached to the Gestapo now had her on their records. She was expected at the commissariat at four o’clock tomorrow. Le Roux was bound to have at least one of Alie’s henchmen watching the hotel, as Inspector Déterville had said.

  Chief Inspector Louis Alie had formed an ‘anti-terrorist’ brigade whose sole responsibility was to entrap anyone suspected of Résistance activity. He was sadistic and enjoyed brutality. It was he who had arrested Isidore Newman and his co-conspirators. Later on in 1944, as the tide turned so decisively after the D-Day landings, Alie fled to Germany on 24 August with Gestapo archives. For some reason, he later decided to return to Rouen, where he was recognised and arrested. He tried to buy his freedom and a passport to Argentina, using the information he had retained on collaborators and the activities of the SS and Gestapo as a bargaining tool. A
lie was tried and sentenced to death in November and executed on 27 December 1944.

  If Le Roux mentioned Violette to Alie, there would be an immediate raid on Madame Thivier’s hotel to arrest her and very likely Madame Thivier, too. Apart from Violette’s cover and her courage, she only had Déterville’s quick actions and Le Roux’s lack of thought to thank for her present freedom. He should have slammed her in a cell but considered she was just a scared little rabbit caught in the headlights. Her act of fear and distress along with her cover had worked for now. However, she must be gone before dawn.

  Her first thought was that she would go straight to Marianne’s house in the north and ask for help. She would hope to get a safe-house for a couple of days, then catch a ride with a Résister partway to Paris. Quickly she realised that this would mean putting them in very real and immediate danger.

  How could she escape this town that threatened to become her prison? She was tired, tense and frightened but had to concentrate on the avenues open to her as she had too much information useful to the German authorities; they would stop at nothing to wrench it from her and prevent its transmission to London. This scared her more than anything else.

  Her rendezvous with Philippe was from Tuesday 25 to Sunday 30 April in Paris. Tonight was Saturday 22 April; three days before the first day that Philippe would be waiting. She had planned to leave Rouen on the morning of the 25th by train. That way, final messages could be exchanged and loose ends tied, but there really was nothing more she needed to do in the area.

  One option was simply to get on her bike and make her way slowly to Paris. Very dangerous, too, she knew. What would happen if she had an accident or the tyres blew? The distance was about 90 to 100 miles. She was fit and healthy, if a bit tired. If she did thirty miles or so a day, she would arrive on time. Not too bad; it would be relatively easy to sleep in the fields or find some guesthouse along the route. It would not matter should she be a day late; Philippe would be at the same spot each day in the Luxembourg Gardens, where he would wait for her for one and a half hours from midday. But wouldn’t the roads to Paris be teeming with enemy transport in both directions? There would be some longer stretches where a young woman on a bicycle would look incongruous and therefore suspicious. Not such a bright idea after all.