Young, Brave and Beautiful

by Tania Szabô

  André Malraux was just beginning to posture, as some French historians are inclined to describe it, as Colonel Berger from SOE. However, Harry Peulevé and Jacques Poirier both considered he was doing a first-class job in trying to bring the disparate Maquis groups under one umbrella organisation. Already a celebrated writer, he had not seemed inclined to involve himself in the fight to liberate France until March 1944 on discovering the fate of his half-brothers. Nevertheless, he had strong and enduring links with the Paris Combat, Albert Camus, Gide and many other left-wing intellectuals of the time who used their skills in producing newssheets for the Résistance and offering refuge to those that needed it.

  In the Corrèze, the two lieutenants-colonels, Guédin and Vaujour, largely aided by Jacques Poirier and the members of his Digger circuit, had already received clear and distinct instructions from London and the Allied high command. Over the next three days, these men put a severe brake on the progress of the Panzer columns. The Armée secrète and the FTP – mostly led by Georges Guingouin – started a real ‘travail de sape’, a constant sapping of the enemy’s strength and intelligence, and further destabilising the enemy by attacking the railways and destroying trains and road convoys.

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  Although Walter Watney, being well acquainted with Jacques and his family in France, had discreetly passed him the address of his brother, Cyril, in London, Jacques felt it would be decidedly imprudent to contact his friend’s brother and family, considering the sort of training he was about to receive.

  A few days after his arrival in Inverness for sabotage training, he met a young English officer who introduced himself as Cyril Watney. Jacques, although stunned, had sufficient sang-froid to reply using the cover name of Jack Peters that he had been given in Orchard Court. Jacques thought that this could well be one of the tests that all agents encountered before and during their training. They could even pass or fail on the name they used in a pub. Very soon, though, as Cyril was complaining about not having the luxury of using his brother’s powerful cars, Jacques was encouraged to say he knew that his brother would have lent him a superb Delage. It was the start of a great friendship that led to Captain Cyril Watney being chosen as Jacques’ radio operator in the Dordogne under the code name of Michel.

  At Mallaig in Scotland one day, Jacques left the SOE school there to seek whisky and took with him ‘la petite vedette de l’école’, Violette, ‘the little star of the school’, as Jacques recalled she was teasingly called. On the train, she and Jacques simulated a train sabotage operation and hold-up. There was much anger and fear engendered but also some mirth.

  On another occasion, a few weeks later, he was on a training mission in Sheffield to play the secret agent and set up a circuit. Tails were sent to follow him and blow his circuit. They did not succeed as Jacques cleverly decided to create his network from people not on the list given to him by the school. The police in Sheffield were eventually sent to arrest him by somewhat red-faced instructors. Violette and Cyril, who had been paired together by their instructors, caught all those they had to tail. When their roles were reversed and they had to set up a circuit, they were never caught by other fledgling trackers.

  They had all learned survival skills such as silent killing, the use of codes and wireless transmitters, parachuting at night or in the day, rowing boats, the use of many kinds of plastic explosives and detonators along with grenades, guns, rifles and pistols. Physical training was important and weeks were spent on learning various cover stories and withstanding interrogation under fairly harsh conditions such as sleep deprivation, to break those same stories and intelligence they had been given to learn. Violette annoyed her instructors for not taking it all seriously enough but she did not fail any of these ‘exams’; under her sparkling fun-loving attitude was a steely determination to succeed, plus the inherent abilities to do so.

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  ‘Okay, Louise, if you’re sure. Now, you’ll need the money belt as well as memorising all London’s instructions for the groups. I cannot tell you how important this is,’ were Philippe’s directives and comments to Violette.

  Violette and Philippe had taken a long walk, far from prying eyes and ears, to recap their brief and Violette’s new task. The Salesman II circuit was to take over part of the Stationer circuit after Maurice Southgate (Hector), its leader, had been arrested. Hector reported three active Maquis organisations under his network and the possibility of using about 2,000 men in the Indre. Samuel was his second-in-command and a radio operator. Anastasie was his lieutenant for Haute-Vienne and Creuze; Maurice Southgate had asked for officer status for him in March 1944. Finally, among some very good people was Marc, personal assistant to Samuel, and his wife, Samuel’s courier. Since the arrest of Hector, the circuit was divided up by London so that the south and south-east of the Indre into Haute-Vienne to Limoges would remain under the command of Samuel (with Tutur as radio) and the Haute-Vienne south of Limoges would be the area of the Salesman II circuit.

  ‘Now, Louise, we’ve arrived late but things seem to be working out. Claude is doing a superb job as radio, we’re slowly getting somewhere with Samuel; he’s given us Marie to help out, which leaves you free for liaison work.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Jacques and assessing the position in the Corrèze. From rumours, it’s worse than we expected.’

  ‘Yes, and it’ll be necessary to change points of attack since some target details were captured with Hector. But I’ll get stuck into that north of here while you’re down south. At Châteauneuf, we know there’re at least 600 Maquisards, a small group at Terrasson thirty miles south of Périgueux and 250 in Brive. It’s the Châteauneuf Maquis that we need to be in close contact with and supply their needs …’

  ‘That sounds like Georges Guingouin, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but he’s crafty and won’t let us get too close until he can trust us. We have to work with that. They stand between two roads and two railway lines that are strategically useful and used by the Germans.’

  ‘And our B messages will tell us what guerrilla activities to implement so we can harass the Jerries to the maximum but without any frontal encounter. London really does not want us to get up too close as yet, do they, Charles?’

  ‘No, we need to keep in reserve the main striking force for more important and larger-scale attacks which’ll be required later.’

  ‘So, it’s my task to go down to Captain Jack and agree with him and André Malraux on a division of spheres of responsibility. I see no difficulty with that, as they have no particular political or personal axes to grind. Don’t you agree?’ ended Violette.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ replied Philippe. ‘But exact details must be worked out on the spot. London thinks it best that I become responsible for Malraux’s FTP connections in the Creuze and in the Haute-Vienne.’

  ‘I think that’s absolutely right. The FTP is far too communist to deal comfortably with André and his more middle-class intellectualism.’

  ‘Now, Louise,’ said Philippe, looking intently at Violette. ‘As far as the Corrèze and the Dordogne are concerned, it will be a matter of assessing which group would be the better able to deal with them. If this can be agreed, the contacts in those departments can be passed over to a single head. Can you handle that?’

  ‘I’ll do my best, sir!’ saluted Violette. It was a large and important task but she felt confident that she could handle it. Might take a few days.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you can. Both Samuel and Nestor have done sterling work here and our approach must recognise that at all times. The only way, London suggests, of further dividing these areas is on the basis of military necessity. Difficult communications make it essential that units must now be concentrated into smaller, compact units capable of close control and with good communications with Allied HQ. And, for God’s sake, don’t forget to convey to Nestor HQ’s appreciation of the work they’re doing.’

  ‘Of course.’ Violette smiled. ‘And first pass instruc
tions that Nestor needs to target the railway lines converging on Bergerac and Uzerche.’

  Let’s get back to the others and get you ready for your journey!’ laughed Philippe.

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  ‘We’ve got to prevent or at least slow down that Panzer division making its way north from Toulouse.’ Violette, who was actually directing her comments to Jacques (Anastasie), looked toward Philippe as she spoke.

  ‘Ah yes, Louise,’ Anastasie broke into her thoughts. ‘We have already caused much havoc. Our Maquis further down south have been harassing them every step of the way with sabotage, even capturing enemy troops, including officers, but it hasn’t stopped them. The reprisals have been particularly vindictive. It’s a pity Hector was taken. As his lieutenant, I did a helluva lot of work. He put a promotion to officer in the pipeline for me. London doesn’t half take its time.’

  They had laid out on the long table a detailed map of the entire region from Brive-la-Gaillarde in the south to Châteauroux in the north. Underneath it was a more detailed local map.

  ‘Now, Major,’ Anastasie used Philippe’s rank to cajole Philippe for more money and arms, ‘My Soleil group is in desperate need of weaponry and could do with some financing. How can you help?’

  ‘At the moment,’ replied Philippe, somewhat tartly, ‘there is far too much work to do checking out exactly what Maquis groups there are and how well trained they are.’

  ‘Mine are trained as well as can be under the circumstances. But that’s not exactly the point.’

  ‘Oh, but my dear fellow, it is exactly the point. I need to know just who and what we have here. It seems to me the first thing you need is for Clothaire to come and lick your men into some kind of force to be reckoned with.’ That was Philippe’s last word on the matter.

  Philippe was not at all sure he approved of this young Frenchman. Plenty of courage but not to any degree security minded, it seemed to him. Too political, as well.

  The difference between the seasoned security-minded and somewhat left-of-centre Gaullist journalist and young, spirited right-of-centre gendarme and Gaullist fighting against his Vichy masters was too big for a congenial working relationship.

  Anastasie was tempted to storm out, angrily denouncing the bloody British as arrogant, left-wing and lacking any understanding of the valour of his men. No, he would swallow his pride and stay, for the moment. This British major may be a closet communist but he was in a position to import good equipment. He would make sure he and his men got a proper share of it, not only to kill Germans and sabotage their installations but also, by taking some of the parachuted equipment for himself and his men, he deprived the communists and thus weakened their position. He would not see his country be freed of the Nazis only to be dragged under the yoke of communism.

  Sussac was generally a communist stronghold, but the people were also very loyal Gaullists. Many had been recruited by the ‘arch-communist’ of the time, Georges Guingouin. This man had set up one of the most successful Maquis groups through hard discipline and tough training. Throughout his long life, he remained staunchly to the far left, but in the early years of the war he had eschewed militant communism and was, in fact, a dedicated pragmatist, keeping his idealism strictly within bounds.

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  It was time to set out. Violette had packed her small suitcase. She wore a white blouse and light summer skirt and jacket; her coat was rolled up on the back of her bike. Her money belt was firmly around her waist, under her shirt and skirt. ‘Has someone checked the Sten gun, Major?’ she asked Philippe as she threw her luggage into the passenger side of the Citroën, where her feet would rest on it.

  ‘Yes, it’s been kept in good condition and was thoroughly cleaned and oiled last night. Here’re a couple of extra magazines in addition to the one that’s already loaded.’ Violette knew the Sten intimately; especially this new version, knowing it could fire automatic or single shots up to 200 yards.

  ‘Thanks. Can you fix the bike to the car for me, Anastasie?’

  ‘Of course, mademoiselle.’ Anastasie smiled lazily. ‘I’ve got to pick up a pal up in Croisille so we’ll attach the bike to your side of the car. That way, he can climb in from my side at the back.’

  ‘Now, look here, Anastasie,’ interjected Philippe. ‘This isn’t a picnic. It’s a dangerous journey you’re about to take. Isn’t Croisille out of your way? Louise needs to get down to Arnac-Pompadour quickly; you do realise that, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do, Major. But I want company for the ride back. It is pretty much on our route and he’ll be outside waiting.’

  ‘I’m still not happy about the use of the car, Anastasie. It’s not as if you’re going any great distance. Why couldn’t Adrien come along in his gazogène? Far more appropriate. There’re far too many Germans about the place: patrols, ambushes and security checks. You just be damned careful and keep to the lanes, the routes blanches. There’s less likelihood of you running into some reconnaissance or advance unit.’

  Adrien, apparently, was ferrying sabotage equipment to another group. As Jean-Claude Guiet later stated to the author, ‘The whole trip was pushed by Anastasie, especially the use of the car. Cars were fairly common for upper echelon and people who knew how to work the angles. Anastasie was happy go lucky, terribly sure of himself. Maloubier can furnish more info: they were great friends. If time had not been of essence, Violette would have gone by bike.’143

  ‘Okay, we’ll be off. Take us about an hour. The car has a full tank and is in tip-top nick. Pinched it right from under the Boches’ noses, we did. I have a gun, but perhaps a couple of grenades, Major? Just in case. I’ll bring them back again – unless I need to use them.’

  The Maquis had a rather good supply of the Marlin submachine gun and Anastasie brought his. It was heavier than the Sten and more accurate. The Sten was light and easy to carry but also known for sticking and lack of accuracy.

  ‘Don’t think you’ll need any grenades on this trip.’ Philippe frowned. Anastasie had a good gun; it would suffice.

  Anna Ribiéras stood beside her friend, Mademoiselle Géry, who was very excited by all this and impressed by Anastasie. Anna, eyes glistening, gave Violette a hug and a kiss on the cheek telling her to take great care.

  Violette and Anastasie got in the car. Bob Maloubier arrived at that moment and stood beside Philippe as they waved the car off. Violette turned and waved a cheery goodbye, smiling happily, hiding a niggling feeling of misgiving. Something was definitely out of kilter. She shook her head and tried to dismiss the thought by considering where she would start the journey on her bike. Uzerche was the best place, but if necessary she could get out before that.

  She felt unbelievably conspicuous in this large black car running on German petrol. She also felt decidedly uneasy, as the bike had been strapped to her side of the car, making escape from that side impossible. She would be relieved once she was on her bike, alone, a quiet country lass going about her business. She had a woman’s bike this time with a nice round wicker basket on the front, deep and large. The loaded Sten, safety-catch on, was at her feet with her luggage. Two magazines were in her pocket.

  In this vehicle, they would certainly not be considered quiet country souls. If they were seen they would undoubtedly be stopped, she thought, and probably shot at. Apart from the Germans and Milice, only the Maquis had cars like this. The sooner she was out of it, the better. It had seemed reasonable when they had discussed it, but not now. Every nerve in her body was alert.

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  Philippe went back to the others. He needed to check out all the information he had. Violette did just great yesterday, he thought. Extraordinary girl. Women were very adept at this sort of work – nearly all the circuits had women working as liaison officers or couriers. Colonel Charles said she had worked wonders on Madame Lazerat. Things were beginning to come together elsewhere too; some good meetings, even though they took such a long time around here. The meeting in the forest had been instructive and go
od groundwork had been laid there. Two days in and things were happening. Violette would soon be down in the Tulle area and she would do a great job passing on instructions to Captain Jack and other circuit and Maquis leaders, bringing back Jacques’ and Malraux’s assessments, plans and requirements and those of other organisers. She had an important task to perform but she had she had bags of tact and the necessary stamina and had proved her talent. A great boost to have her with them.

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  The sun glinted off the Citroën as it went along the narrow roads. It was hot and they wound down all the windows. Violette’s window was a bit stiff as the bike’s pressure made it a little difficult to wind down. After about eight kilometres, chatting as they went through the pretty countryside, they reached the D43, where they turned left.

  Anastasie told Violette he came from a little village called Salon-la-Tour of which he was extremely proud. The N20 that still runs alongside it was the major highway for north–south traffic. ‘Look, it’s on our way to Arnac-Pompadour, after Croisille, as I told the Major. I’ll take you through it. You’ll love it.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so, Anastasie. We must get on. We don’t have time for sightseeing, much as I’d like to. I’ve got quite a ride from Uzerche to Pompadour and maybe onto Tulle.’

  ‘No, I really mean it, Louise.’ Without waiting for a reply, he went on, ‘We have to go through Salon-la-Tour to turn on the route to Uzerche so we’ll just pass through.’ He laughed gaily so sure of himself. He was certainly good-looking, thought Violette, just not my type. Too boastful, too loud.

  A few minutes later, they were in Croisille-sur-Briance. They screeched to a stop outside the shop that his friend’s father owned. Anastasie jumped out. ‘I’ll just go and check he’s ready. Won’t be a mo.’ About five minutes later, he came out with his friend, Jean Bariaud, who was about the same age as Anastasie.