Young, Brave and Beautiful Read online

  Over 250 kilometres south of Rouen, the message sent to London from Harry Peulevé’s radio set in the Corrèze read, word for word, error for error:

  TOR 1028 12TH MARCH 1944

  BLUFF CHECK OMITTED TRUE CHECK OMITTED

  73 SEVEN THREE STOP

  FOLLOWING NEWS FROM ROUEN STOP XLAUDE MALRAUX DISAPPEARED BELGIVED ARRESTED BY GESTAPO STOP RADIO OPERATOR PIERRE ARRESTES STOP IF CLETENT STILL WITH YOU DO NOT SEND HEM STOP DOFTOR ARRESTES STOP EIGHTEEN TONS ARMS REMOVED BS POLIFE STOP BELIEVE THIS DUE ARRESTATION OF A SEFTION FHEIF WHO GAVE ASRESSES ADIEU

  From this garbled text, Violette, Philippe, Vera Atkins, Maurice Buckmaster, Gerry Morel – Director of Operations from the end of March 1942 to July 1944 – and all those in Baker Street party to the puzzling missive agreed the ‘73’ probably referred to the number of people arrested. Violette would discover that in fact the total was at least ninety-six members of Salesman, Hamlet and associated Maquis and Résistants. It struck Violette that the message was unmistakably clear in that the doctor they used in the Résistance in that area had also been arrested, and that eighteen tons of weaponry had been removed by the police.

  Violette surmised that the ‘section chief’ could be an important key. Could this refer to Claude Malraux, deputising for Philippe while Philippe was in England, or to Philippe himself? Either way, Violette felt that this just did not feel right. Firstly, Claude was not a ‘chief’ but a second-in-command; secondly, Philippe had not been questioned and therefore could not have given away any addresses. Thirdly, ‘section’ meant something different to ‘circuit’. There could be several circuits in a section.

  Could it refer to a section chief in London, like Bonnington, Buckmaster’s second, or ‘Buck’ himself, heaven forbid? Or perhaps one of de Gaulle’s clandestine section chiefs or one of the home grown French organisations? She must remember to add this to her list of things to discover more about. The message went on to insist that Clément, one of the Rouen aliases for Philippe, stay away from the area. It did not say why. Why would they want him to stay away? She mulled this over. Either because of danger to himself especially with the ‘wanted’ posters all over town and those around him or because they feared he may have been careless and therefore in some way had betrayed them, which was highly unlikely.

  Violette, knowing a little more about Broni, thought it possible that he relayed Néné this message minutes before being captured. If arrest was seconds away, it would account for inaccurate sending and transmission without due security checks. Baker Street had received this message on 12 March, the day of the arrest and capture of Broni. But the distance …?

  It was that message that had inspired the choice of Violette for a solo mission to Rouen and to delay Philippe’s return to France until April, travelling with her just as far as Paris. As it was imperative that Philippe not go to Rouen, after considerable discussion, Philippe was adamant Violette be sent instead; untried as she might be, he had complete confidence in her. She would meet and report back to him in Paris at the end of April, having had about three weeks to make discreet inquiries and to deal with other tasks entrusted to her, such as finding out about the launch sites for the German rocket weaponry targeted at England. It would be up to Violette to discover all she could and persuade those left to continue the struggle, dispirited though they might be.

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  The people she knew she could try to contact were Denise (which she had done), Jean Sueur and his wife Florence. Jean, the manager of Madame Micheline’s ladies’ boutique, had been Philippe’s first contact in Rouen. He had set up a place for Philippe to live and also helped him establish his whole network. Violette would later learn that under the alias Nénesse, Jean was an important external member of the Diables Noirs. She knew he spent a considerable amount of time liaising with Résistance groups all over the Seine-Maritime. Florence Sueur, his wife and business partner, ran the day-to-day business of the boutique and of the boîte à lettres and drop-in-point for members and external members of those groups as well as liaising with British agents.

  There was also Hugues Paccaud, saboteur; Georges Philippon (Jo), garage owner, main weapons dump for Salesman and reception committee leader, and his wife. Jo’s friend, Chevallier, ran the secondary dump at his garage. Violette knew there was a very scared insurance man who had insisted that Philippe did not give his name to anyone. Was he the weak link? He had a friend in a local Mairie54 who provided ration cards. A Monsieur Quenot provided information on train movements – where they passed, their speed at any given place and time, etc. Quenot promised full support for railway sabotage before and after D-Day. Now, what was the doctor’s name? Docteur Debos, Deboucq …? Before she could remember his name exactly, Violette had fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep.

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  52 FTP[F] = Francs-Tireurs et Partisans [française] = [French] Partisans and Sharpshooters, the armed section of the French Communist Party. Frequently the final ‘F’ is excluded, as it is obvious they are French. A partisan is different and not so all-inclusive as a patriot. The first belongs loyally to a specific group while the latter belongs loyally to a specific country.

  53 Temporary rank meant usually for the duration of the war.

  54 Mairie = mayor’s office; Hôtel de Ville = town hall.

  10

  Madame Desvaux, Lise Valois,

  the Blue Cardigan

  Tuesday 11 April 1944

  Madame Denise Desvaux was worried. Violette, whom she knew as Corinne Leroy, had left, but that did not lessen the danger to either of them. She was terrified that the young woman had been followed and there would be a knock on the door from the Gestapo55 or the Milice.

  Denise had been shocked when Violette knocked and spoke the coded message that she, trembling, completed. She did not want more trouble; she had already suffered enough. She had lost her husband, her children were cut off from her – safe, she hoped. She had spent a week under arrest and harsh interrogation and today Pierre was being deported. Denise tried to help him, even promising to betray Charles to the police, should he reappear. She had heard those arresting her mention Charles over and over, so she had offered to report him. Had she meant it? She still did not know. But she was struck by Violette’s calm courage and took heart from that.

  Strengthening her resolve, the first thing to do, she decided, was to have a chat with Lise Valois, the manager of the shop. Since they worked together in the fashion trade, it would seem odd not to go to the boutique and do business with Lise in Florence’s absence. Although Jean Sueur ran the business, looking after the financial and sales aspects for the owner, Jeanne Micheline, Florence Sueur, his wife, had always run the shop itself, helping clients with their fashion requirements while he visited Madame Micheline in her Paris shop. Now, of course, since the Sueurs’ arrest, Lise Valois had to do everything to keep the business going as best she could. She was an elegant, small woman in her late forties, slim with high cheekbones, and wore her light auburn hair fashionably short.

  For all the strictures placed on commerce by the alien occupation and Vichy government, the Sueurs’ business was doing very well. Its links to Paris ensured garments would be le dernier cri for younger and wealthier women including German women and collaborators. Many of the clothes were designed and often tailored for the Sueurs’ boutique by people like Denise Desvaux, who produced garments from the best materials or altered ready-made items. The Sueurs’ visits to Paris also proved useful in the clandestine work of the Résistance for contacting other groups and planning combined operations – but it was risky. The Sueurs’ contacts were a select group; among them were Tante Evelyn and a friend of hers, Colonel Gentil. The colonel was arrested and died in Dora concentration camp along with his nephew Paul and other friends.

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  Thoughts and plans scurrying through her mind, Denise collected the two dresses she had completed and folded them carefully over her left arm. She picked up her travelling
sewing box and clip purse then slipped quietly out of her apartment, locking the door behind her.

  It was a mere ten-minute walk to the fashionable cobbled streets of Rouen centre-ville. There were not too many soldiers around, but a number of military vehicles rumbled past, guns pointing ahead. She was used to this and not the least concerned. Denise came to the boutique on rue des Carmes. Entering it, she caught Lise Valois’ attention. She told her she had brought along the dresses to be tried on by the clients a little early but wished to have a chat first.

  Lise smilingly welcomed her in, wondering what might be up. She told her to go through to the workshop and that she would be with her in a few minutes.’

  Denise walked into the workshop and watched the woman and girls working on alterations or restyling garments. About ten minutes later Lise Valois came in, cool and elegant. ‘Come into my office, Denise,’ she said.

  They went in, Lise moving a rose lamé jacket from the visitor’s armchair and indicating Denise sit there while she went behind her cluttered desk.

  Denise enquired urgently whether they could be overheard. Lise replied not at all but that she, Denise, looked as if the devil were chasing her. Giving her account of the morning Denise described the sudden visit of a young lady from London on behalf of Charles.

  She said the young woman, under the name of Corinne Leroy, wanted to know what had happened, the state of the Salesman circuit and what she could do to help the families that were now suffering financial hardship. She also, it seemed to Denise, had instructions from London to pass on to any Résistance group who would listen. Denise was not sure there were any left who wanted or were even capable of listening, never mind helping. She wondered what Lise thought.

  Lise, astounded, asked abruptly if Denise believed her to be who she said she was. Denise described how they had spent a few hours together in her apartment and talked of many things and that the young woman had the right password on woollens to start with. The shock was still visible in Denise’s face – she had been so frightened. She wanted to know if Lise would help her decide who Corinne could talk to who might be able to help.

  Lise immediately said she should be the one to meet her after checking that she had had the correct password. She asked Denise to get her to bring in something for repair, thus keeping up the cover of a knitted garment.

  Denise had a cardigan that could do with some new buttons. It was blue and fitted the code she and Violette had decided on before she left. Denise explained that Violette had said that any messages should contain blue – not green – if everything seemed safe and orange not red for danger. Denise thought it very clever as did Lise.

  After some discussion, it was agreed that Denise would take the blue cardigan straight round to the hotel where Violette was staying and leave a written message that everyone could read if they had a mind to, or she could speak to her openly at reception if Violette was already back at the hotel.

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  A short while after, Denise returned home to pack the cardigan to leave for Violette. She walked to Violette’s hotel, mindful that she could be followed and taking a few basic precautions. At the hotel she greeted the woman at the desk. It was the patronne. Good, thought Denise.

  She addressed Madame Thivier, asking her to pass on the package for Mademoiselle Corinne Leroy, requesting that Corinne be given the package before retiring that night. Madame Thivier gave her word, mentioning what a lovely young woman Corinne was and enquiring if they were friends.

  Madame Desvaux said they were only acquaintances but agreed she seemed nice. She explained that as the young woman wanted a cardigan, she brought one that was in need of some repair work before wearing. A pretty one that and went well with her colouring.

  As Denise left, Madame Thivier looked at the note and read it. That seemed innocuous enough, she thought to herself. As soon as la petite comes in, I’ll give it to her. Now, if I’m not mistaken, that woman was arrested by the Gestapo recently and her lodger was imprisoned and then deported to Germany. My young guest must be very careful indeed.

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  Note

  55 SOE’s F Section second-in-command, the Scottish accountant, Lieutenant Colonel R.A. Bourne-Patterson, recorded, ‘The Gestapo were encouraged to believe that we were unaware of the extent of the penetration, and deliveries of stores were continued to circuits known to be Gestapo-operated, in order to give time for new circuits to establish themselves.’ This raises interesting questions the answers to which may have burnt in the 1945 SOE fire.

  11

  En Route to the Boutique, Lise at Le Bristol, Lunch at Chez Denise

  Wednesday 12 April 1944

  The following morning, Wednesday 12 April, turned out warm and sunny. Violette dressed fairly casually in jumper and skirt, a light and very pale blue blouse underneath, with the collar folded neatly over the jumper. The collar, rimmed with slightly frayed Morlaix lace, had been expertly aged by the tricks of SOE’s forgers, working alongside French seamstresses in London – including my grandmother. Tante Marguerite had knitted the beige jumper one year ago as a birthday gift for her sister, Reine who, having put on a little weight, had passed it on to Violette who had thought the colour far too insipid and unfashionable to wear in London but now it truly came into its own as it would certainly not attract attention. The brown A-line skirt came about two inches below her knees. Violette wore white socks and a pair of brown shoes. Around her neck she had tied an inexpensive but pretty cotton scarf, ready to be pulled up over her hair should she feel the need. She wore no makeup except a light touch of lipstick, and her short dark hair was swept back off her face. She looked like the smart but relaxed commercial secretary she was portraying.

  Violette had wanted to become a film star, and felt that perhaps she still could fulfil that desire after the war. She had had some fantastic portfolio shots professionally taken that she left with her family in London after giving two signed ones to a friend and an aunt. She had already been an ‘extra’ in a few movies. The best drama tutors had been co-opted by Baker Street to help SOE’s fledgling agents to learn and live undercover personae; Violette had enjoyed every moment of their coaching. Now she saw in the mirror that her face was taking on a wary and slightly drawn quality, not unlike that of other women living and working under enemy occupation. She had also lost a little weight from the frugal meals, cycling and walking since parachuting into the country, and of course the tension of knowing she was now a solitary agent in a dangerous land. She had never expected to be so happy and relieved to look just ordinary and a little tired.

  Violette slung her bag over her shoulder. Carefully concealed inside its double linings and false bottom was a fortune in large denomination wartime French francs and her false papers. In her purse she carried a large sum in smaller denomination notes: some forged, some genuine. Although the amount in her purse would be extremely difficult to account for, she had decided to explain it away as money from her Le Havre boss for purchases to be made in Paris that she had not been able to make and now must return the money to him, with, perhaps, a little joke about what she could have done with all that money in Paris. The rest would remain hidden. Or so she hoped.

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  Breakfast was being served in the dining room as she entered, holding her brown paper package with the cardigan and the note still clearly attached. Sitting at a table by the window was another guest, a commercial traveller selling vin ordinaire who was a regular of Madame Thivier. Violette sat at a table near the window facing the door.

  Madame Thivier came in to serve breakfast and chattered on about ration difficulties, the latest gossip on arrests and the weather. The food was filling and tasted marvellous. Studiously avoiding glancing at Violette, she commented on a front-page article in the Journal de Rouen in which the enemy announced another great coup in capturing many ‘terroristes’ in planned simultaneous raids and today they would deport those still alive to forced labour in German factories and munitions plants.
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  ‘Terroristes, mon oeil!’ she muttered, seething. ‘They’d done no damage to nor hurt any member of the civilian population, unlike the dirty Boches, the real terrorists!’

  The commercial traveller looked down at his plate, nodding half-heartedly. Violette asked for more coffee. A nod and no further dangerous talk rewarded her. Instead, she managed to chat with the guests and patronne, gleaning some interesting information. The travelling salesman, discussing the war in general after Madame Thivier’s outburst, commented that he was sure the war would be over within twelve months or so, repeating ‘whoever wins’, thus protecting himself, his family and his firm from unwanted attention.

  Violette saw that his remarks reflected the opinion of many in France and further afield. A glimmer of optimism was slipping in, a fillip to those wishing to see the Allies win. She expected that there would now be growing numbers joining the Résistance and the Maquis groups throughout France for the final push to end the tyranny. This she would pass on to London on her return. After chatting on more innocuous subjects; she wished everyone une très bonne journée and made her way into the street.