Once would-be escapees had managed to get across the demarcation line, they were matched with a local passeur. The passeurs were local Basque men who lived in the foothills of the Pyrenees and whose job it was to know the best ways of crossing the mountainous range. Between 1940 and 1944, it is estimated they helped over 33,000 men escape France to gain their freedom. In winter the paths could be dangerous, but during the rest of the year the weather was generally clement and posed no problem.
Back in Paris, Biaggi met two men who would prove central to Orion’s plans. Xavier Escartin was a deeply patriotic Basque whose business activities led him to travel regularly between Paris and south-western France. Michel Alliot was an energetic and enterprising young man from a small village near the Jura: at sixteen, he graduated from one of France’s leading schools, the Lycée Louis le Grand. Aged only sixteen, Alliot had established his own Resistance group, Vaudevir, focusing on producing false documents, but also helping men to escape France through the Jura to Switzerland. Based initially in the rue Honoré Chevalier, Alliot’s extraordinary operation, Vaudevir, had collected over a million false documents by 1945, including christening certificates, food and tobacco coupons, and even school reports. The group started by making stamps out of sculptured potatoes to forge ID cards, but later became a repository for thousands of genuine ID cards stolen from Parisian town halls. Vaudevir went on to supply Orion with additional ID cards and certificates, as their ‘clients’ sometimes needed as many as seventeen sets of false papers to travel from Paris to the Pyrenees.*
Biaggi introduced his new contacts to Alain and Paul, and the five of them discussed their escape route plans and how they would recruit men in the capital who wanted to leave France. As Orion’s reputation developed, Frenchmen from all over Paris started to approach them for help. Detailed conversations would then take place to discuss on what basis Orion would provide assistance, and after their credentials had been carefully checked, their names would be passed on to Orion’s agents in the Basque country, who would organise their departure.
It was during Alain’s first stay at the château that Paul had proposed a name for their organisation: le réseau Orion (the Orion Resistance Group). He told Alain, ‘No one will ever think of the château or the village. They will think you are referring to the constellation.’9 After the war the group was officially recognised by the Ministry of Defence as the Réseau Orion, in operation from April 1941. Between April 1941 and October 1942, its couriers delivered thirty-one pieces of intelligence from different parts of France to Marseilles, from where they were passed on to Henri d’Astier in Algeria and ultimately to the British and American intelligence services.
* In 2013, Economica published a book on the definitive list of Resistance groups active in France, titled Les réseaux de résistance de la France combattante. In it Vaudevir is listed as a sub-group of Orion, though that was not how any of Orion’s members described it to me.
13
Courage
After Alain and Paul set up the Orion escape route through the Pyrenees, Andrée began to travel down to the Basque country, carrying some of the gathered intelligence which needed to be taken through the Pyrenees to the US consulate in Santander or to Algeria by boat via Marseilles. She was now travelling as a courier between Paris and Orthez, as well as down to Marseilles. The latter route was becoming increasingly important as new agents were drawn into the Orion network in northern France.
Sometimes Andrée received dictated notes (in code of course) via telephone and sometimes they were given to her in note form. Once in Marseilles, ‘the post’ was taken by the sailors of the Société Hôtelière de Ravitaillement Maritime (a private company that operated in a similar fashion to the Merchant Navy’s food supply ships) or by couriers of the Banque Nationale de Commerce et d’Industrie to Algeria.
As day-to-day life in occupied France became increasingly depressing and difficult, Andrée was intrigued when she returned home one evening from a music recital at the German Institute to find a letter addressed to her from her Belgian uncle, advising her that one of his friends would be arriving in Paris and would be inviting her out to dinner. She had not eaten a good meal since Christmas and Andrée’s love of good food was legendary, so she was very excited at the thought of dinner at Prunier’s, but curious as to why a friend of her uncle would invite her to join him in one of the city’s best restaurants.
Andrée’s diary entry for 14 May 1941 refers both to the daily problem of finding food and the luxury of a good meal out – a rare pleasure for the majority of Parisians by this point:
Maman is leaving for St James at the end of the month. She is fed up with not having any food. She intends to find some food there and send it home so that we have something to eat.
I had dinner with a friend of l’oncle Auguste who was in Paris for a couple of days. He invited me to join him at Prunier’s where we had a bottle of 1918 Bollinger, some excellent oysters, a delicious steak tartare and some frites.*
On the evening of her dinner date, Andrée left the flat in the early evening and made her way to the métro. As she walked into Prunier’s and took in the atmosphere, she could see a large number of Wehrmacht officers dining. She approached her host’s table and was careful to respond to his welcome appropriately, as he stood up and kissed her three times on the cheek in accordance with Belgian custom.
As they finished eating, her companion quietly explained that he was carrying a number of documents which he had brought from Brussels and which he was going to hand over in a bag also containing a box of Belgian chocolates from Wittamer and a couple of historical novels for her mother. Over the last year Andrée had collected intelligence from many Resistance colleagues, but never so openly in a public place, and in full view of so many officers. She casually took the bag and placed it by her side. Basic common sense told her that her host might have been followed from Brussels and, although her brother’s security rules did not allow meeting in public places, it was safer to stay away from the family flat. A meeting like this one, taking a young lady out to dinner, would seem perfectly normal.
As curfew was about to fall, Andrée and her host left the restaurant and said au revoir. They wouldn’t meet again until long after the war.†
When she arrived home, she was met by Alain, who asked his sister how she felt about going on a trip to the Pyrenees to deliver some intelligence. He and Paul had worked out a new route from Orion to the US consulate in Salamanca. There was always danger, of course, but he was confident that they had a reliable channel in place. Andrée was to travel down to the Basque country to stay at the Château d’Orion, where Madame Labbé and her friends would ensure the onward delivery of the material she brought with her. Alain was keen for her to go as soon as possible; he was sure the material she had been given was valuable and wanted to get it to Salamanca swiftly.
Yvonne had been listening to her son and daughter’s conversation from the adjoining room. She couldn’t keep quiet any longer. ‘You had both better be very careful,’ she warned them, anxiously.
At Police Headquarters early the next morning, Andrée requested the application forms for an ausweiss. She had examined the map and the train timetables and asked permission from her department head to travel to Orthez via Bordeaux.
Her request went through without a hitch and soon the day arrived. Andrée was looking forward to meeting the Labbé family; she had come across Paul several times at parties in Paris, but knew little about the rest of his family. Alain had told her that Madame Labbé was the kindest, most generous and welcoming person she could meet, and that Paul’s sister was around her age.
She stepped off the bus into the quiet Basque village of Salies-de-Béarn and looked around to see whether anyone from the château had come to meet her. As she held her little suitcase with her ‘post’ hidden within, she could sense the nearby group of German soldiers observing her. She stood quietly where the bus had left her and tried to look relaxed and naive as sh
e soaked up the warm sun. She had put through a call to the château from Orthez that morning to let them know she was coming, but still no one arrived. She took refuge in a nearby café and sat with a tisane for a while until at last an old man approached her and asked in a strong Basque accent, ‘Are you expected at the château?’ Not waiting for an answer, he continued, ‘I am Monsieur Flandé.’
Relieved, she responded affirmatively and followed him to his horse and cart. She kept a tight grip on her suitcase as she climbed up and settled into the seat at the top of the cart.
The horse jolted before starting its journey through Salies-de-Béarn, which was slowly coming to life after the arrival of the bus from Orthez. They trotted through the narrow streets and over the small bridge, covered in red geraniums; Andrée admired the little houses with their sloping tiled roofs and large windows with closed shutters hiding them from the outside world. This was a Basque town at its prettiest and she looked forward to the journey ahead. They passed an elegant and imposing eighteenth-century house, which Monsieur Flandé told her had been bought by a local family to house Russian refugees after their revolution. As they ambled past the town’s school, he told her tales about some of the local families. The sun began to set as they moved out into the open country, but she could see the rolling hills and track which led to Orion. The peacefulness of the countryside left its mark on Andrée, especially given the tense atmosphere she had left behind in Paris, and slowly she began to relax.
It was not long before they were trotting into the tiny deserted Béarnais hamlet. It was almost dark as they went past the cemetery where so many of the villagers were buried, the tiny town hall which doubled up as the local school, and finally the church adjoined to the château. The horse turned through the wrought-iron gates and stopped in front of the château’s main entrance.
Monsieur Flandé’s wife, the château’s housekeeper, ran out to greet the new arrival. A short woman with meticulously tidy hair and a dark Basque complexion, she prided herself on looking after Paul’s new friends, conscious that those living in the cities were always hungry.
Madame Flandé apologised that Madame Labbé was not there to greet her guest in person. Her grief, the war and the presence of the Germans in the occupied zone only two kilometres from her home had left its mark on the châtelaine. She was resting in her room and would meet Andrée the following morning.
Madame Flandé showed Andrée to her bedroom, climbing the wide panelled staircase to the first floor. There was little light and Andrée was barely able to see the steps to her room, but she was happy to have arrived and she knew she was now safe. She had been offered a bowl of soup and some bread, but after such a long journey she just wanted to rest. She lay down on the bed, looked out at the clear night and bright stars through the large windows and promptly fell asleep.
The church bells started ringing at 7.00 a.m. It was time to get up and Andrée was eager to meet Madame Labbé and her daughter, so she dressed quickly and went downstairs to see who was around.
Walking into the kitchen she was greeted by Monsieur Flandé with scrambled egg made with fresh milk from the château’s cows and eggs from the yard’s hens. She had been expecting this treat, knowing that most farmers and villagers throughout France were still able to feed themselves, despite the Germans pilfering much of it. Madame Flandé was preparing the pastry for a tarte aux pommes as Andrée sat down at the long wooden kitchen table and waited for her mouth-watering breakfast.
As she ate, she marvelled at the view in front of her; the rolling hills were covered by deep-green meadows which spread into the distance. It was a clear morning and she could see the shape of every peak of the imposing stretch of mountains separating France from Spain: occupation versus freedom. Despite the arrival of spring, the top of the peaks of the Pyrenees were still covered in snow and she watched the changing landscape as the sun rose. She could see the fields divided up by the different crops, barley separated from wheat, and she wondered whether the owners of the farm in front of her were ‘friends’ of the château.
Breakfast finished, Andrée decided to explore the château and its gardens. She walked out of the kitchen, picked a small bunch of wild flowers in the garden and walked around the house to the front door, where she entered a small rectangular hall with an imposing but beautiful portrait of Madame Labbé in eighteenth-century dress. Opposite hung a portrait of Maréchal Pétain in military uniform. On another wall to the right of the painting of the châtelaine, a huge French nineteenth-century mahogany linen cupboard dominated the hall.
She admired Monsieur Labbé’s watercolours hanging in the drawing room alongside several portraits of the Reclus and Labbé ancestors. She then moved into the formal dining room where several large mirrors adorned the panelled walls. Some of the family silver was lying on the table. She thought about the hours that would have been spent sitting around this dining room table, eating, drinking and discussing politics.
As Andrée bent to look at some of the books lying on one of the tables, she heard someone coming into the room; it was Madame Labbé, dressed totally in black. She moved towards Andrée to shake her by the hand and welcomed her warmly. Together they walked out into the garden and despite the cool May air sat down on one of the garden benches to get to know each other. Andrée told Madame Labbé about the documents she had brought down from Paris; her host was pleased that everything had reached Orion safely and assured her that within the next couple of days the information would be taken through to Spain by one of their trusted passeurs. Madame Labbé invited Andrée to stay as long as she wished but, unfortunately, she had to return to Paris the next day. Her guest ventured a question: why was there a portrait of Pétain hanging in the hall? Madame Labbé laughed, and explained that by doing so the Germans would think they were collaborators and if there was any trouble the château was less likely to be searched. Life in Orion was difficult, as it was everywhere in rural France during the occupation, but because the château was so remote, there were no Germans on their doorstep. German patrols however regularly visited the hamlet, stealing their food and ensuring their presence was felt.
All too soon it was time to return to Paris. Her mission had been a success, but this was only the beginning. As their intelligence-gathering grew in scope, she would not be able to manage alone; they would need more couriers to help with the workload. But recruiting other couriers was likely to be extremely difficult. The right candidates would need to be discreet but confident, naive in demeanour yet quick-witted, fiercely patriotic but never forthright in expressing their political views. It would be useful to know whether they had families in different parts of France as that would make it easier for them to get ausweiss, but at the same time it was always better for everyone involved to know as little as possible about other couriers in case they were caught. Alain was keen to recruit women because experience suggested that they were less likely to be stopped or searched by the Wehrmacht.
Who could she approach, who could she trust? As the train steamed into Paris, Andrée mentally considered her closest friends and decided she would speak to two people, Marthe Dramez and Margit Ehrart. Marthe, who chain-smoked Gauloises, was small and quiet; she was slightly older than Andrée’s other friends, and had proved to be one of the most loyal. Marthe had begun her career as a history teacher in one of the most successful lycées in Paris and she had helped Alain pass his baccalaureate. Later she became headmistress at another leading girls’ school, and was awarded the Légion d’honneur in the 1960s in recognition of her work for the Resistance and her contribution to education. Half-Austrian Margit, meanwhile, spoke impeccable German and looked like an Aryan with her blond hair and blue eyes; she would be the perfect candidate to transport any material from Nice. Her grandparents had always lived there, so she had a valid reason to visit and Andrée knew she would enjoy soaking up the warm Mediterranean sun and relaxing in the Free Zone. Margit was always keen to undertake a challenge.
As she ar
rived back in Paris, Andrée felt very pleased with herself. She had thought of two reliable friends who she was almost certain would help. The intelligence would be divided up and she wouldn’t have to risk drawing too much attention to herself at work by travelling too frequently. But at the back of her mind, she knew that the risks were growing; if she was caught, there would be the added risk of betraying the others.
* Indicative of the lifestyle some people in Paris were able to have during the war years, especially the German officers, collaborators and members of intelligence services.
† Andrée’s host might have been Raoul Maillard. Born in Liège, Belgium, in 1896, he was included in the list of the Orion agents recorded in the archives of the French Ministry of Defence. He came to visit Andrée in London many years later, bringing gifts for her children.
14
Imperilled
In late 1941, finding food was a challenge for most Parisians and as the winter wore on, they began to endure food shortages which were at times so extreme that Andrée described eating several dinners of rat meat and beetroot, a vegetable she refused to touch for the rest of her life. Food rationing had come into force back in May: each person was given an allowance of 350g of meat, 70g of cheese, 100g of fat, 50g of sugar, 250g of pasta and 200g of rice per month. For those living in the countryside, a little more food was often available but the German soldiers were masters of the art of pilfering.
Andrée's War Page 11