by Mary Soames
Before luncheon my parents and I went with Beatrice Eden to visit the club she was running for Allied personnel, returning to the Quai d’Orsay for a luncheon given by M. Bidault. Later that afternoon we all proceeded to the Hotel de Ville for another splendid celebratory event:
This was the centre of Parisian resistance & played a tremendous part in the Liberation [of Paris]. All the officials were wearing splendiferous sashes of scarlet & royal blue. The ‘girls’ all arrived first & we were installed in large fauteuils. We walked upstairs & along corridors lined with la Garde Republicaine, and the sight of them & the huge hall where the chandeliers were reflected as pools of light on the parquet floor is something I shall never forget.
Papa arrived & was welcomed by the Prefet de Police M. Luizet and the President of the Parisian Council of Liberation M. Tollet. The room on whose walls were depicted the most bloody & resisting events of French history was full of members of the resistance movement … it was very moving. Papa made a great & remarkable speech in French—and I think they all liked it. Then he was presented with the [flag] with the swastika hauled down from the Hotel de Ville & a dagger. Then we retired & drank champagne. On the way back the streets were still lined with people although it was after dark & they could have no reasonable hope of seeing anything. Papa & Mummie dined with Duff & Diana, and Eric [Duncannon]f gave a dinner party for me. I sat between Etienne de Rosier who was gay & entertaining, with Eric on the other side—who is neither, but very nice …
This agreeable evening marked the end of our wonderful return visit to Paris. But there was to be for me an exciting sequel.
General de Gaulle had invited my father at the conclusion of his Paris visit to accompany him to see the First French Army, which was about to go into action at the Belfort gap in eastern France. My mother was to stay on for a day or two in Paris, but to my intense joy I was to go with my father. Arrived at the special train which was to take our party I found that my wagon-lit compartment
was bursting with white gladioli and tiger lilies—simply lovely but rather overcrowded! The party is Papa, General de G & his 2 aides, CIGS [Sir Alan Brooke], plus Capitaine de Levis Mirepoix, Tommy [Thompson], M. Diethelm,g M. Palewski, & M. Mayer,h General Juin.i I left the boys rather quickly to gather strength for tomorrow’s excursions. We rumbled across France from West to East & when we woke up it was to find SNOW—with a white heavy sky threatening more to come. I lost control at Breakfast and guzzled an omelette au jambon instead of banting!
On Monday, 13 November, my diary continues:
We arrived at Besancon at 10, General de Lattre de Tassignyj plus his staff & etc met us. After a guard of honour & bands we were bundled into a long caravan of cars. I found myself with General Valuy (General de Lattre’s Chief of Staff—I think)—and a French general whose name I never did get, and also Commandant Bullitt ci-devant American ambassador to France, and now in the French army. They were all charming to me, and I couldn’t have had a gayer journey.
It was indeed ‘très gai’ for as we climbed & climbed the snow thickened & it got colder & colder. Then a tyre burst on Papa’s car—after that there were continually halts to unditch various cars which had stuck firmly in the snow. I decided to trade on my sex rather than my rank, & therefore sat in great comfort while various generals, colonels and brigadiers heaved & pushed the cars about. We eventually arrived at Maiche—eight kilometres only from the enemy, & the battle was explained to Papa & the General in General de Lattre’s HQ which was in a most attractive diminutive chateau.
I remember that during this long drive the men were able to relieve themselves as and when—leaving me, the only woman, in growing discomfort and considerable embarrassment, as there was no cover of any kind in the snowy landscape: by the time we arrived at Maiche I made a determined and desperate rush for the nearest bathroom!
At luncheon
I sat on General de Gaulle’s right and next to General Juin. It was rather nervous work at first—but I hope it was all right. At the end of lunch Papa made a short & very moving speech, proposing conjointly the health of the First French Army and its commander ‘ce general rusé’ [General de Lattre de Tassigny]. General de Gaulle replied shortly & well & said Papa was ‘le Clemenceau de cette guerre’ … Then Gen. de Lattre made a speech & then our own CIGS, in perfect & graceful French. I was so proud to be at this occasion in this snowbound village and to be able to drink with my whole heart to resurgent France. May God speed & prosper their forthcoming attack.
By the time we had arrived at Maiche the mountain road had become completely blocked, and there was no possibility of reaching the front—however, General de Lattre suggested that we should return to Besançon by way of Valdahon, where there was a large number of French troops encamped. Accordingly we set forth again: now “considerably warmed by cognac & emotion, we bundled into the cars—now fortified with chains [and] we dashed back along the ways we’d so painfully climbed.”
We arrived at Valdahon as twilight was falling. It was still snowing & bitterly cold. Papa & the General drove in a jeep right down the assembled parade. After a quick gouter in the equivalent of NAAFI, there was a march past. Most of the troops were Maquis & FFI [Forces Francaises de l’Interieur]k just completing their training. I thought they looked splendid—small, tough & ferocious, and animated with one desire—to confront the enemy.
There was also a battalion of the Foreign Legion who marched by impressively to their own Marche Consulaire. Then in the gathering gloom about 100 tanks rumbled past. It was such a sombre setting—snow, mud, barracks & twilight, and it will remain in my memory forever. I think all of us there who loved France, must have prayed for this small but infinitely determined army … We all got icy cold, but thank God Papa was all right.
At dinner on the train I again sat between Gen. de Gaulle & General Juin, and it was our last meeting for the present. Dinner was passed in the most genial and friendly spirit. I do really trust & think a real rapprochement has resulted from these last few days—Long may it last. When we all parted it was to say ‘Goodbye’. General de Gaulle sent one of his aides, Lt. Guy, along with a little Croix de Lorraine for my uniform. I am so proud of it.
During the night our train divided, part of it carrying the General back to Paris, while our portion took us overnight to Rheims, near where General Eisenhower’sl headquarters was located. During the morning, while my father and “Ike” conferred, I went for a walk
with the dreariest possible WAC [member of the Women’s Army Corps]—who has been to so many war fronts that this bedraggled & impoverished little French village—Gueux—was not very exciting to her. To me every step seemed significant—I cannot get over being in France again. In the afternoon we flew away over the spacious champagne country dotted with war cemeteries and made so lovely by the soft wet light and the different shades of the cultures. I wish I could begin to describe its rather sad beauty … And then we arrived back—and Papa’s visit to France was over.
WHAT WITH ALL the excitement and emotions of the visit to France, and with no enemy action, at the end of November I was finding battery life quite boring; however, writing up my diary on 9 December, I recorded how “rumours began wafting around … and finally General Tremlett told the assembled ATS of 137 [Regiment] that we have been chosen for service in North West Europe. Wild excitement and enthusiasm. And lots of work preparing for the move to Weybridge [in Surrey] where we ‘concentrate.’ ”
In a letter to Randolph (in Yugoslavia) at this time my father wrote:
All your sisters send their love … Mary has been promoted to Junior Commander with 3 pips, equal to Captain. She is back at the Hyde Park Battery commanding 230 women.m Not so bad at 21! The Battery is to go to the front almost immediately, and will be under a somewhat stiffer rocket fire than we endure with composure here. Mary is of course very elated at the honour of going to the front, and at the same time bearing up against her responsibilities. So far we are proceeding on the voluntary bas
is in regard to young women sent into the fight. If we do not get enough that way, they will have to be directed. Many of them have troubles at home with their papas and Mamas. When Mary sounded her girls as to whether they wished to go overseas, the almost universal reply was ‘Not ’alf!’ I hope the Battery will produce a record in volunteering. The Battery, I must explain has eight guns of which only four are in Hyde Park, and Mary journeys from one to the other to discharge her manifold duties.
We are well back in the Stone Age now though, as Stalin (pointed out to me), we have not yet reached cannibalism.
God protect us all, especially the young who are reprieving the follies of the past and will, I pray, ward off the worst follies that threaten us in the future.
Before we left Hyde Park again, however, there was my father’s seventieth birthday to celebrate on St. Andrew’s Day, 30 November. “I rushed home earlyish to say ‘Happy Birthday’ & to present the usual buttonholesn and his present—some Gilbert & Sullivan recordings.”
That evening we had a dinner party in the Annexe flat:
Mummie had made the sitting room ablaze with flowers. The guests were Cousin Venetia [Montagu], Brendan [Bracken] & Max [Beaverbrook] besides the family—the 3 girls, Aunt Nellie, Uncle Jack & Nana. When we were all assembled the candles were lit on the cake—70 of them—Papa looked so pleased and well. At dinner Diana & Sarah sat on either side of Papa—& I sat between Nana & Duncan. Dinner was delicious & ended with peaches birthday cake & real cream (a present!). All Papa’s presents were loaded on a table—and there was a magnificent ‘bottlescape’. Max proposed Papa’s health—not very well—but Papa’s reply made me weep. He said we were the ‘dearest there are’—he had been comforted and supported by our love. It was short—but I couldn’t see the faces at the end—& then very slowly—almost solemnly—he clinked glasses with each one of us.
I WAS ON DUTY over Christmas this year: again, according to tradition, the officers prepared, cooked, and served the troops luncheon, and there was a battery dance in the evening. The next morning I was “liberated,” and rushed off to Chequers—to find, to my dismay, that my father had flown off to Athens on Christmas Eve with Anthony Eden, to cope with the crisis which had arisen with the culmination of the Greek civil war in a bitter struggle for the city and the political future of Greece. It was a highly dangerous situation, and my mother was deeply anxious; but she was gallantly carrying on the festivities with the usual children’s party and a film. Sarah was there (we shared a room, and caught up on each other’s lives); also there were Uncle Jack and Aunt Nellie; Diana and Duncan, with their three children; the Prof and Gil Winant—and the officers from the camp, who were duly entertained. So we kept our hearts up and the “home fires burning” on this which, we knew with confidence, would be the last wartime Christmas.
* * *
* Forced flowers such as these had long since disappeared from English florists’ shops.
† Duff Cooper was at this point Minister in Algiers and about to become ambassador to the French government.
‡ Monsieur René Massigli, the newly appointed French ambassador to London.
§ Daughter of the Nobel Prize–winning scientist Marie Curie; friend of Duff and Diana Cooper.
‖ American journalist: friend of Randolph and persona grata with the Churchills.
a Son of Earl Baldwin of Bewdley (Stanley), former Prime Minister.
b Famous and fashionable photographer and designer.
c Tess Mayor, MBE—whom he later married.
d Georges Bidault, French Foreign Minister.
e Gaston Palewski, General de Gaulle’s chef de cabinet and close adviser.
f Now serving as Secretary at the British Embassy.
g M. André Diethelm, Commissioner of the Interior.
h M. René Mayer, French radical politician; later, in 1953, he served briefly as Prime Minister.
i Long-standing friend of de Gaulle who had commanded under the Vichy government all the French troops in Morocco; in 1942 he joined the Allies.
j Imprisoned by the Vichy government in 1942, Tassigny had escaped after four attempts and joined de Gaulle. He was now commanding the First French Army.
k The FFI were formed in February 1944 by the French Committee for National Liberation: they became part of the Allied armed forces and were integrated into the regular armed forces in September 1944.
l General Dwight D. Eisenhower (1890–1969): “Ike,” Supreme Allied Commander in Europe; later thirty-fourth President of the United States (1953–61).
m Molly Oakey had been posted to another battery, so I was the senior ATS officer in 481 Battery.
n Stumped as to what to give my father on his birthday, I usually gave him two carnation buttonholes—one for the day, and another for the party in the evening—but this year I had managed something more inventive!
CHAPTER 18
Europe Arise!
DURING THE FINAL WEEKS AT WEYBRIDGE PREPARING FOR OUR foray abroad I was able to make off-duty dashes for home. On one such occasion I noted in my diary some treasured time with my father, who with no morning engagements had worked in bed:
I lunched alone with Papa. A rare and precious occasion for me. He was sitting up in bed resplendent in his bedjacket.* I sat near his bed & we had a delicious lunch on trays. Crab—beef—mince pies with Liebfraumilch to drink. At first Papa read the Manchester Guardian and Yorkshire Post & then talked to me—Greece—Monty—the battle†—the House [of Commons]. He was so kind and I did so love being alone with him. Only I’m always afraid of boring him—so I was careful not to stay too long & went away at half past two—that hour having flown.
Mobilization being at last completed for 481 Battery’s “invasion” of Europe, we departed on 25 January 1945 in bitterly cold weather, travelling by foot, train, boat (Tilbury to Ostend, where we spent the night), and finally trucks via Ghent and Bruges. Arriving at our final destination, which was on a hilltop just outside a small village named Huldenberg, not far from Brussels, we settled ourselves in our Nissenhut quarters, which had been prepared ahead for the main body of the battery. They were pretty primitive, but the advance party had the stove in each barrack room lit and a hot meal ready—and, totally exhausted by the long journey, everyone was soon asleep.
As usual the battery was on two sites—four guns on each—with the officers’ mess and quarters and battery headquarters about half a mile away in a commandeered château. It was, as I wrote to Nana on 3 February,
a most elegant and luxuriously appointed one too—if only the luxurious appointments pushed or pulled. However some of them are being slowly brought into action … I spend nearly all day slithering around the sites poking my nose into everything … For the first few days we wallowed in snowdrifts and now we flounder in mud.
Walking on semi-cleared roads or tracks was a real physical challenge—but cars or trucks simply got stuck: “Every expedition in transport is an adventure—quite 50% of one’s time is spent pushing, pulling coaxing & undigging cars.”
Two days later a thaw set in. I wrote in my diary: “Drifts of snow have given place to quagmires of mud & slush. The roads, if possible, are worse than ever.” To my father I described how the girls “have not confined themselves to the mere feminine task of operating lethal instruments—but have thrown themselves with gusto into laying tracks, duckboards, and clearing rubbish and sawing wood. We all have the appetites of giants, and the rations are very good indeed.” They continued to meet these tough conditions with high spirits; as I told Nana, “They have great fun exploring in the villages. The Belgians here are very friendly and hospitable—and for a little coffee or a bar of soap do all one’s washing. I think there’s hardly a girl or man who hasn’t got a Belgian laundress!”
The burgomaster and his wife, Comte et Comtesse Thierry de Limburg Stirum—and his large family of children and cousins—whose home was the château in the village (their other home in the Ardennes had been razed to the ground in the fie
rce fighting in that area), were in every way helpful, and extended warm hospitality, including most welcome baths, to the officers. (This was genuinely generous, since fuel for heating was hard to come by for the civilian population.) The worst horrors of occupation had largely bypassed this somewhat out-of-the-way village hidden in the fold of a hill, but there was no doubting the popularity of their liberators.
Although we were immured in the countryside, trips by all ranks to Brussels were facilitated by lifts in the constantly to-ing and fro-ing trucks collecting rations and other supplies. Once in the city there were many amenities on hand, including of course YMCA and YWCA canteens and hostels for short periods of leave. I personally remember on my first visit to Brussels standing stock-still on the pavement, transfixed by the window of a large florist, crammed with potted azaleas, cyclamen, and other hothouse plants—a sight long since vanished at home, where fuel was strictly rationed. I was (somewhat priggishly, I fear) shocked by the flouting by all and sundry of whatever regulations existed here, and the widespread use of the flourishing “black market.” This had been regarded as almost a “patriotic duty” during the occupation, but it was still going on now—apparently unrestrained.
A surprise and welcome visitor was Captain Noel Chavasse, one of Field Marshal Montgomery’s ADCs. Monty had lunched the week before with my parents in London, where he had learned of my posting to Belgium, and on his return to his headquarters he had dispatched Captain Chavasse, bearing a letter to me in his own hand, “to visit you and make certain all is well. I am also sending him a present for your Battery of a case of Bovril and 10,000 cigarettes. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you. I hope your Battery is shooting down the flying bombs. Yrs sincerely, B. L. Montgomery.” In fact, as regards our active participation in the defence of Brussels, we were never actually called upon to fire: the battlefront was moving forward fairly fast, and Brussels was no longer a feasible target for enemy air raids.