Today I am having lunch with Renée. She might be able to help find me an interesting job.
On 20 May she noted her conversation with Renée:
Renée came around to tea this afternoon and told me that she had arranged for us to meet a close friend of hers, Roger Langeron, who is the Head of Police at Police Headquarters in Paris. She told me we were to meet him tomorrow and that I was to make sure I looked attractive and that I was elegantly dressed. She said that Langeron wanted to meet me and described him as a thoroughly decent, straightforward chap who has an aristocratic manner about him, thoroughly charming and not too old! I wonder?!
On the day of the interview, Renée invited her younger sister to lunch. Stepping from the Place Vendôme into The Ritz, Andrée felt buoyed up with confidence as she and Renée made their way into one of the most elegant dining rooms in Paris. Renée complimented Andrée on what she was wearing and the way she had done her hair, although she could not resist having a dig at the British sense of dress by saying: ‘I was seriously worried you might have lost your dress sense while you were living in England, but no, you are as elegant as you ever were and being eighteen months older you have developed a quiet yet sophisticated air which will be noticed by all those you meet.’
They enjoyed an excellent lunch, during which Renée continued to build up her sister’s confidence with a stream of compliments, before leaving The Ritz to make their way to Police Headquarters, an imposing grey building lying alongside the Seine on the Left Bank, near Notre Dame. As they approached the building, Andrée found it difficult to dismiss her thoughts about the procedures and events which took place within the confines of the building, a venue which over the years had housed some of the most notorious criminals in France. It was an austere, soulless government building with long, endless corridors, police cells and police interview rooms, and crowded with large numbers of uniformed police officers with loaded guns attached to their hips.
They smiled at the duty officer by the gate, who immediately recognised Renée, and minutes later the two young women were sitting in the office of one of the most powerful men in Paris.
Préfet Langeron was a tall, imposing man in his forties with the forceful personality that often accompanies great power and authority. As Renée knew, he was looking for people he could trust. He spoke kindly to Andrée: ‘I understand from Renée you are interested in working at Police Headquarters. We need someone to help out in the Passport and ID Department and I like to take on people I know personally. I will follow your career carefully and do anything I can to help its progress. I hope you will decide to come and join us.’
Andrée, whose initial shyness and quiet behaviour had now disappeared, eagerly and graciously accepted her new appointment.* As the two women left the building, walking through the flower market and making their way home, Renée told Andrée how pleased she was with the outcome of the meeting. She knew that Langeron would like her younger sister, and she felt confident that Andrée would prove herself to be a loyal member of staff. But she also wanted Andrée to be fully aware of what she was doing, and warned her that Langeron was not universally popular. ‘As you may know, he is renowned for searching and rounding up many active members of the Communist Party and his zeal for this has earned him many political enemies.’
Andrée, though, was not to be dissuaded. Her diary entry for 20 May 1939 says simply:
I had a meeting with Roger Langeron, the head of the Paris police force and he has offered me a job.
In the six months following her return to Paris, Andrée enjoyed herself enormously, living and working in one of Europe’s most exciting cities. She regularly went to the cinema and her diary records her enjoyment at seeing films starring Moira Shearer and Clark Gable. Family outings to some of the best restaurants in town were the norm, as were regular trips to the theatre. For her nineteenth birthday she was given a bicycle and, with her first boyfriend, Raymond, and a circle of friends, she began cycling along the banks of the Seine and spending weekends camping outside Paris.
These carefree days were, of course, to come abruptly to an end. Following the invasion of Poland, a dark cloud fell over the world; the United Kingdom declared war on Germany on 3 September 1939, followed within the hour by France. That day Andrée wrote simply:
That’s it – war has been declared.
It was the beginning of a great change; the scene was being set for how they would live over the next four years. Balls, staying out late, good food, travelling freely around Europe – all the things Andrée enjoyed – were no longer an option and as curfew, travel restrictions and food shortages came into force, life would become seriously difficult. Shopping, a choice of reasonably elegant clothes, a choice of books, non-censored press, attending university, things which today are taken for granted and which should have been theirs, were no longer possible.
At nineteen and seventeen respectively, Andrée and Alain had to grow up fast. On 15 September 1939, Andrée wrote:
Dear little diary,
I think that during the difficult times in which we are living you will be so much a part of my life. I am nineteen and I want to have fun but we are at war! Yes, once again several countries who should be at peace have declared war on each other. The Germans, under their Führer Adolf Hitler, invaded Poland on Friday, 1st September. They did not declare war on Poland, they simply marched in. Traitors is the only way of describing them. Since the fighting started in Poland, they have invaded half of the country and are committing the most awful crimes, relentlessly bombing so many of the Polish cities.
As for the French, we are now fighting the Germans in the Sarre between the Maginot and the Siegfried Lines.
The other day Maman saw a train full of wounded soldiers at La Gare St Lazare. It is so awful I can hardly take it all in. Every man up to the age of fifty-two has been called up, but there is no option: we must fight on. Hitler has to be stopped.
We have to think of victory and shout ‘Vive la France’.
Sunday, 8 October 1939
I am alone at home in Paris. Tomorrow I start a new job at Police Headquarters, reporting directly to Monsieur Langeron, the head of the Parisian police force.
11 October 1939
Dear Diary, you have actually made your way into Police Headquarters! I have been assigned to the Tourist Office, ‘the Foreigners’ Office’. ‘Affectée au bureau des touristes service des étrangers.’ It is a small office separate from the main stream of Police Headquarters. Our job is to check the passports and documents of any foreigner who wants to stay in France for more than three months. It is an interesting job because one meets a lot of people, but you have to be very careful about the small details in the documents and we have to work very quickly.
As Andrée walked through the gates of Police Headquarters for the first time in October 1939, she felt excited and nervous. She had, of course, no idea that the building would come under the control of the Wehrmacht following the Nazis’ entry into Paris, nor the extent to which the French police would collaborate with the German army of occupation.
As her work in the ‘Touriste’ department began to unfold, Andrée took stock of her work colleagues, later describing them in some detail:
Firstly there is our department head, M. Kervella, a wounded veteran of the Great War who comes from Brittany and who with his very fair complexion looks like a Viking, then there is Madame Chantebout, a very charming woman who keeps me in touch with all the gossip. She is fair, rather overweight and in her forties. She has been very helpful and kind to me. Monsieur Plagnard is about my age. He is rather dull, badly dressed and his mouse-coloured hair is always untidy. Finally there is our orderly, Monsieur Perny, who is so helpful and efficient.
26 October 1939
We have a lot of work in the office at the moment because all the foreigners living in France who have not registered their presence are coming to have their documents updated.
3 January 1940
I witness
ed and recorded the details of fourteen people who came to have their ID cards updated.
Maman had been sent a Christmas pudding by her friends in Bournemouth, so we put some brandy on it and lit it up with a match as they do in England, and had it for dinner.
23 January 1940
We are living through such sad times and I am not having any fun. War is such a disgusting state of affairs. Because there are different nations who are unable to sort out their differences, we youngsters have to suffer the consequences. It sickens me.
We had dinner last night at Le Cabaret and then went to see Mr Smith Goes to Washington. It was the best film I have ever seen.
Everyone is depressed.
5 February 1940
On Saturday night I went to the one hundredth performance of Je vivrai un grand amour.
After the show I was invited to attend the reception. Steve arrived around nine o’clock, looking so smart in his beautifully cut suit and, with his sophisticated, cool, rather distant manner, reminds me so much of some of my English friends. Renée was wearing black from top to toe and had the most gorgeous long and very full dress. She looked amazing. Monsieur Langeron attended the performance and shook me by the hand; I offered him a glass of champagne.
Harry Baun, André Luguet, Lucienne Bogart, Alice Locca and many other celebrities joined our party.
We talked to the Bernsteins, the Rubinsteins and André Hesse. Steve invited several British officers. One of them was looking at me in such an admiring way. Jean Barbier and Alain were there along with Fescourt, France’s most famous theatre producer.
8 March 1940
There is a lot of work at Police Headquarters. I have been to the theatre twice with Renée. We went to see School for Scandal, a satire by Sheridan – the sets were amazing and the costumes all quite lovely – and another evening we went to see Richard III at the Atelier Theatre. It is a play by William Shakespeare.
In April 1940, Hitler invaded Denmark and Norway, followed by Belgium and Holland on 10 May, when Rotterdam was bombed almost to extinction. That day Andrée wrote:
Last night there was an air raid. From 05.40 until 06.30 the DCA was working non-stop and what a noise. And this morning, coup de foudre. The Germans invaded Luxembourg. At 03.00 in the morning they bombed Antwerp and Brussels. It was all so sudden I can’t get over it. They have also bombed several French towns: Nancy, Lyon, Luxeuil, Pontoire and Colmar. I came home for lunch and Alain, who was also at home, kept repeating to himself ‘bastards, bastards’. I was heartbroken and then later in the day learnt that our Whitsun holiday has been cancelled. No point in complaining. We are at war and life is certainly going to change. C’est la guerre.
It was also the day that Germany attacked France, coming over the border in the Ardennes. Within six weeks the whole country had been defeated and occupied.
1 May 1940
I now work in the Information Department.
It is May 1st [la Fête du Muguet] so I bought a bunch of lily of the valley for Madame Chantebout, Madame Joly and Madame Yoanoff.
Today after work I am having cocktails with Jean Barbier, Alain and Margit. We all have such fun together. Tomorrow Margit and I are planning to go to Maxwell on the Boulevards to have an ice cream. There is always an orchestra. I must stop writing and I will say au revoir to you, dear diary, in English, ‘Goodbye’.
14 May 1940
There was an air-raid alert at 02.30 and we went down into the cellars. I was surprised because it was rather comfortable.
On Sunday night there were two air raids. One was between midnight and one o’clock and the other from half past six until ten minutes past seven.
It seems they had dropped bombs around Choisy-le-Roi and Villacoublay. Madame Chantebout arrived at work saying how frightened she had been.
Luckily I had gone to bed early. On Friday evening I went to Renée’s and we went to see a play at the Odeon called 1939. It is by Denys Amiel and could not have been more boring.
The play is about day-to-day living in France and Germany in the days leading up to war. The first act takes place in Germany and shows a secret meeting between Hitler and the Russian Ambassador to Germany. They are discussing the partition of Poland between the two tyrants. The second act takes place in France and shows a French family who live in the Périgueux quietly having lunch and talking about the war. They are shown as not wanting to come to terms with what is happening around them.
It just goes to show how weak the French are and how we are not facing up to reality. The play was long and it was very boring. I was home by eleven, but at six o’clock there was again another air raid.
The next day Margit came round with Alain and Jean Barbier. We had a supper of cheese, saucisson, grilled bread and milky coffee.
On 15 May, Winston Churchill became head of Britain’s new wartime coalition government, with Clement Attlee – leader of the Labour party – as Deputy Prime Minister. Andrée told me that when she and her mother learnt of Churchill’s appointment, they felt relieved that Britain now had a forceful leader who would, as she phrased it, ‘put the Germans squarely in their place’.
15 May 1940
I am at work and one of my colleagues, Madame Chantebout, has been discussing the political situation. She talks absolute rubbish and has no understanding whatsoever of the events unfolding around us. She is a defeatist and should be arrested for her unpatriotic views. She really upsets me and I look at her with contempt. One of these days I will tell her exactly what I think of her. There was another air raid at 2.30 p.m. We went into air-raid shelters. It was very comfortable.
Sunday, 19 May 1940
It is eleven o’clock in the morning. I should be at Maison Laffite with my family but I am at Police Headquarters where we now have to work on Sundays until we receive our new schedule. We are not being paid any extra for working on Sundays.
I went home for lunch today and wore my beautiful new hat. The designer is American and it is very large and a stunning navy-blue colour. I also bought myself a pair of navy-blue shoes which still hurt even though I have been wearing them for two weeks and my hair is worn in curls (un rouleau interclair).
I had another argument with ‘La Mère’ Chantebout about the political situation and because of this have not spoken to her for three days.
Dear little diary, I am now going to stop writing. It is so very special that I can confide in you in this way.
* François was later awarded the Légion d’honneur and at ninety years of age was still piloting his own plane. Having met him again at that age, I confess he remains one of the most attractive Frenchmen I have ever encountered.
* Although she did not know it then, as one of the first women to be employed at Police Headquarters, Andrée was something of a pioneer.
4
The Evacuation of Paris
June 1940
On the eve of the invasion, according to Jean-Marc Berlière, there were approximately half a million foreigners registered in Paris and the surrounding region. They included central European Jews who had escaped persecution by the Nazis in their homelands, anti-Nazi Germans, anti-fascist Italians, Spanish republicans, Hungarians and gypsies. Throughout the 1930s it had been a legal requirement for every foreigner living in France to register their presence at the local police station. In Paris, detailed records of these people were passed on to Police Headquarters with the date of their arrival, their name, age, profession and address all noted.
In the days running up to the arrival of the Nazis in Paris, large queues of people started to form at Police Headquarters; at times the queues were so long they ran all the way around the building. Those who wanted to stay in France needed to make sure their ID cards and documents were up to date.
On 3 June 1940, ‘300 German aircraft bombed the Citroën and Renault factories on the south-western edge of Paris, killing 254 people, including 195 civilians.’1 Andrée wrote in her diary:
On 3 June, Paris was bombed. At 1.15, ju
st as I was going back to work after lunch, I heard an air-raid alert. I was at home so I took my coat off and stayed in the flat. I heard a few planes circling overhead but nothing else. I was back at work within the hour and so when Monsieur Kervella walked into my office and said, ‘Well they have certainly dropped a lot of bombs, the Citroën and Renault factories are on fire,’ I replied, ‘You must be joking.’
‘I most certainly am not, the whole of the 15th arrondissement has been bombed.’
Once again there are plans to evacuate Paris. We are all very frightened. The state schools have been closed. The classes of ’39 and ’40 have been called up. André Hesse and Jean Barbier have left. Maman, Alain and the girls are planning to leave Paris tomorrow. They are heading for Nantes. Papa is hesitating. He says it is too early to leave. Yvette has just passed her brevet and Alain is due to take his baccalaureate on Monday. Poor chap. What a life.
On 9 June, she wrote the following entry:
There was an air raid last night and Maman made us all get up and go down to the cellar. It was very frightening…
It is Sunday and I am again at work. I am so depressed. France is in the most desperate position. The Germans crossed the Aisne this morning and are overrunning the country. The King of Belgium is guilty of treason. The Flanders army withdrew at Dunkirk but thank goodness they have been saved. Many major battles are being fought. There must be thousands of dead soldiers. It is just too awful for words.
The evening of 10 June was a warm one and before going to bed Andrée had left the shutters of her bedroom window ajar. She awoke early the following morning to strong light filtering through her bedroom window. The days were now much longer and she liked to get up early. Despite living in central Paris, she could still hear a few birds twittering at daybreak and their chatter helped her wake up. She threw the sheets off her bed and went to the window. She opened the shutters and looked down on the street below. It was totally deserted. In the kitchen, she boiled some water and poured it onto the freshly ground coffee Mémé (the family’s housekeeper) had recently brought back from Brussels. From the Normandy-style wooden bread cabinet in the dining room she helped herself to a piece of bread, warming it up in the oven before spreading it with some of Mémé’s greengage jam.
Andrée's War Page 3