Читать книгу Sisters, Secrets and Sacrifice: The True Story of WWII Special Agents Eileen and Jacqueline Nearne - Susan Ottaway, Susan Ottaway - Страница 10

Since the area to be covered by the Stationer circuit, from central France to the far south, was vast, nearly half of the entire country, Southgate and Jacqueline’s remit to unite the various groups in this area into efficient fighting forces, so that they would be ready when the longed-for Allied invasion of western Europe eventually began, presented a challenge. It was rather unrealistic, therefore, to have sent a new circuit leader on his first mission with an equally inexperienced courier and no wireless operator, and expect them to work miracles. Yet London could not have picked a better pair for the task.

Southgate had passed his training courses with flying colours and was highly thought of by F Section. He in turn had full confidence in his courier and was not to be disappointed when they began to work together in earnest. He was soon reporting, ‘Jacqueline is grand, and is rendering great service to my organisation and to England. I could not have done half what I have without her.’¹ But although they got along very well and were soon beginning to achieve a lot of what they had come to France to do, Southgate regarded Jacqueline as a bit of an enigma. She was pleasant, polite, always did her job to the best of her ability and had a good sense of humour, but he felt that there was more to her than met the eye and that behind her pleasant façade was a woman who did not want to give away too much of her real self.

During their first few weeks in France Jacqueline and Southgate travelled tirelessly all over the large area that constituted the Stationer circuit, meeting when possible about three times each week to bring each other up to date with their progress. They soon began to establish some order among the disparate groups of resisters, and arranged training and supplies for them. Part of Jacqueline’s work as a courier was to take and fetch messages from the other groups. Before Stationer received its own wireless operator, she also had to take messages to a wireless operator of another circuit to be sent. This was a security risk for both her and the Stationer circuit as a whole, but it was nearly three months before the news reached them that the arrival of their own wireless operator was imminent.

Then, in mid-April, Amédée Maingard (Samuel) parachuted from an RAF Halifax on to a dropping zone 6 kilometres from Tarbes. Southgate met him and the two men made their way to Châteauroux, where Maingard, a Mauritian, made his base at a safe house organized for him by Jacqueline. He and Jacqueline began to meet regularly, usually at least three times a week, and his arrival made a huge difference to the efficiency of the circuit and lessened the security risk to Jacqueline, as she now only had to pass messages to one person. She always carried the messages by hand and was prepared to either destroy them or swallow them if there was any danger of her being caught. She sometimes had to carry what she referred to as ‘compromising objects’ in her bag:

If I feared an inspection at a station exit I would call a porter and get him to take my bags to the left luggage where I would collect them later. If my cases had been opened I always had enough time to disappear.

Sometimes the Germans helped me as I got off a train and gallantly carried my luggage. That helped me get through the checks without any problems.²

Southgate’s cover story for his role in the circuit was that he was an inspector and engineer for a company manufacturing gasogene,³ the gas substitute used for powering cars in France during the war. This gave him a good reason for all the travelling he undertook and sometimes gained him access to factories, which allowed him to assess the practicalities of sabotage. As a security precaution he always carried literature about his supposed employer and could speak with some authority about gasogene. Jacqueline’s cover as a saleswoman for a pharmaceutical company⁴ also gave her a very plausible reason for being on the move and, since the story was so close to her actual employment before leaving France to come to England, she too had few problems in maintaining the deception. But despite this the work was very dangerous.

Because of the distances she travelled, Jacqueline sometimes had to stay in hotels. This was not as easy as she had imagined. Not only did she have to avoid German soldiers without overtly appearing to do so; she also had to be on the lookout for those in plain clothes and for checks carried out by the Milice, the Vichy French volunteer paramilitary organization whose members subscribed to the abhorrent Nazi ethos. Although in her previous career she had been used to staying in hotels, she had done so as a legitimate sales representative, with genuine papers. Those she had carried when she first arrived, although excellent, were fake and one of her first tasks had been to obtain French-made documents. The day after she received her new cards she had to use them when the hotel in which she was staying in Châteauroux was subjected to a police raid.

She was washing her underwear in the basin in her room when there was a knock at the door. Believing it to be an expected visit from a member of the Resistance, Jacqueline hurriedly opened the door to be confronted by a plain-clothes policeman. Genuinely dismayed about being caught with her wet undergarments still in her hand, she began to blush and stammer her apologies for coming to the door in such a state. The young policeman was also flustered, and their mutual confusion diffused the situation. He asked for her papers, she produced them, and he gave them a cursory look before handing them back and fleeing in embarrassment.

Later that evening there was another raid and this time Jacqueline was prepared. When the knock on her door came she opened the door but pretended to have been asleep and, rubbing her eyes and yawning, asked what the policeman wanted. He mentioned Southgate, using the name under which he was known in the area – M. Philippe. Jacqueline yawned some more, and tried to look drowsy and confused. Her acting fooled him and, seeing that he would get no sensible answers from her in that state, he apologized for disturbing her and went away. She didn’t get much sleep that night. The police knew Southgate’s alias and that he was somehow linked to her. She couldn’t understand who could have told them and knew that she had to get away as quickly as possible. Not wanting to attract attention in the hotel by leaving in the middle of the night, and afraid that, if she did take that chance, the police might be keeping a watch outside, she decided to stay until the morning. As soon as it was light she took her small bag and checked out of the hotel. Later she learnt from a member of the Resistance group in the area that the police had returned just after she left, no doubt hoping to question her again when she was wide awake.

The incident proved to Jacqueline that it was not safe to stay in hotels too often and thereafter she tried to avoid them as much as possible, preferring tried and tested safe houses. But sometimes there was no other choice. On another occasion she was again disturbed twice, by two different police officers knocking at her door. She did not panic; she just showed her papers and answered their questions, and later she discovered that they hadn’t been interested in her at all. There had been a robbery in the area and every hotel room was being checked in the hope of finding the thieves.

When not taking a chance by staying in a hotel Jacqueline frequently slept during her long train journeys. More often she could only cat nap, and spent much of her time knitting socks for herself and her colleagues. On the rare occasions when she had to stay in Paris, she used her own family home there. The apartment that had belonged to her grandparents and in which the Nearne family had lived when they first came to France was empty, so Jacqueline made it available as a safe house for Southgate and other agents, although, ever cautious, she stipulated that it was not to be used very frequently. An empty apartment that had different people coming and going regularly was bound to arouse suspicion, and she wanted to avoid the possibility of it being the target of a raid.

Jacqueline’s frequent trips away from her base in Clermont-Ferrand gave her an opportunity to contact her brother Francis. He had remained in the Grenoble area, living with his wife, Thérèse, and son, Jack, at the Villa Picard in Saint Egrève, a few kilometres from the city. When, in May 1943, he heard from Jacqueline that she was back in France and would like to meet up with him, he jumped at the chance. Francis knew only that both his sisters had gone to England to look for a way to help the Allies, but when he and Jacqueline met she swore him to secrecy and told him something of what her work in France entailed. She described how difficult it was for her entire group because of the vastness of the area they covered and asked him if he would be willing to undertake ad hoc courier missions for the circuit.

Francis was still a rather nervous young man. He believed that the difficulties he had faced after arriving in France as a child, and the fact that the education he had received had been rather poor, had resulted in him being unable to secure a good job that would allow him to look after his wife and child properly. Because of his nervous disposition he had been unable to hold down any job for very long but had been getting along quite well in his last position as a salesman for a stationery company, Maison Marassi, until it had closed soon after the start of the war because the manager was Jewish. Francis, like the rest of his family, had remained British and, as a foreigner, had also been made to live in a residence forcée, but he had been allowed to go into Grenoble every day, where the company for which he had worked was located. The closure of the business had created problems for him, as he had barely been able to support himself and his family on the meagre wages he had received, even with the help of 2,600 francs that he received from the Swiss consulate in Lyons,⁵ and without the wages, his life and the lives of his wife and child had had to change drastically. He was also acutely aware that he was the only one of the four siblings not to be doing anything for the war effort. He decided that the time had come for him to join the fight against the Nazis and agreed to Jacqueline’s proposal. She reassured him that if he did become a courier he would be looked after and that she would be the one to allocate the work he undertook. She would be his contact in the circuit and would arrange all the meetings that he had with members of the group so that no one would have to know his true identity, nor he theirs, and the safety of his family would not be compromised.

Because of Maurice Southgate’s complete confidence and trust in Jacqueline he had no problem with her brother becoming a part-time courier for the Stationer circuit. So Francis was given the name Jacques Perrier, was issued with a fake French identity card and began his new work. Using the code name Jacques, he passed messages between members of the circuit, carried equipment for wireless operators of the sub-circuits all over the area when they moved to new addresses, and collected explosives which he delivered to the saboteurs in the group for their attacks on factories and railway yards. He worked mainly in the southern part of the country, in the area between Grenoble, Vichy and Clermont-Ferrand, and usually travelled by train. Sometimes he took Thérèse and Jack with him, having observed that families were far less likely to be caught up in police raids on trains than adults travelling alone. It was not difficult work but it was extremely dangerous, and Francis was always very careful about covering his tracks. In case of police raids, when he had a parcel to carry he would put it in an overhead rack and then stand in the corridor of the train or take a seat in another compartment so that should a raid take place he could walk away from the offending package. When it came to leaving a station building, he would deposit his baggage in the corner of the buffet or ticket hall and then check what controls there were at the exit gate. If there was no control, he would return to his luggage and bring it through the gate; if there was even a hint of a check being made at the station exit, his plan was to leave the package where he had deposited it and walk through the gate empty handed. He was fortunate in never having to do this and attributed it to sheer good luck, as he had often seen these checks taking place before becoming a courier himself.⁶

Francis was only once the subject of an investigation while working for the Stationer circuit. This was on a train when the German authorities came through the carriages asking passengers for their papers. Francis had both British and French identity cards, and carried a letter of safe conduct that identified him as a foreigner living in France. It was this he showed the Germans and that made them suspicious, and when the train pulled into the station at Lyons they handed Francis over to the French police. He had been able to hide his forged French card from the Germans by placing it in between the pages of the newspaper he had been reading, and he managed to retrieve it and hand it over to the policeman. Francis believed it to be an excellent forgery and it obviously was, as the French officer could find no fault with it and immediately released him.

Jacqueline had made arrangements for her brother to stay with the Nerault family at 37 rue Blatin in Clermont-Ferrand that evening. The Neraults’ home was a large apartment in an elegant building five storeys high, with shuttered windows and fancy wrought-iron balconies, close to a busy crossroads. She herself had lived there for some months after her arrival from England. She had told him that she would meet his train and take him to rue Blatin herself, so after his release he went back to the station and hopped on another train for Clermont-Ferrand. He had no more problems during the journey and Jacqueline was waiting for him at the station. As they always were with agents seeking refuge, the Neraults were very welcoming and gave Francis a comfortable bed and a feeling of security at being in a family home once more.

By September he was gaining confidence in his ability and felt that he was, at last, doing something worthwhile – something of which he could be proud; he felt better about himself than he had done for a long while. After having completed another successful mission late one afternoon he was looking forward to meeting up with Jacqueline the following evening. When he went to bed, he slept very well. So well, in fact, that it was ten o’clock the next morning before a loud noise woke him. When he realized what it was, he was terrified but he managed to slip noiselessly out of his bed, creep across the floor and lock the bedroom door. The sound that had interrupted his slumber was of a Gestapo raid. If caught, he knew he would not be able to escape.⁷

On the other side of his bedroom door he could hear several loud voices barking out orders in German. Doors were banging, and drawers and cupboards were being opened, followed by the sound of things being flung on the floor. In between the strident, guttural tones of the Germans were the quieter voices of his hosts. He didn’t understand the Germans and couldn’t hear what the Neraults were saying, but he knew he had to get out immediately. But how? He couldn’t think how to do it without giving away his presence in the apartment. He dressed quickly and put what few belongings he had into his small bag, all the while trying to calm himself and consider what would be his best course of action. The room had a window but there was no way he could make his escape through it. He quickly had to admit to himself that the only way he would survive would be by going through the apartment’s front door and out into the street below. It was a terrifying thought but he had no other choice. So, hardly daring to breathe, he waited until he sensed that the Germans had moved into another room across the hall. Then he carefully turned the key in the lock of his bedroom door and, pushing it open a fraction, peered into the hallway. It was empty. Before his courage failed him, he crept across the floor, opened the outer front door, and made his way down the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could, praying that he wouldn’t meet any Germans on the stairway or outside on the street. He reached the courtyard at the back of the apartment block, and then cautiously made his way through the arch and into the street, only pausing for breath when he was well away from the building.

He had never been so frightened in his entire life and couldn’t stop shaking. Over and over again he thought about the kind family who had offered hospitality to so many people without a thought for their own safety, in the knowledge that they could soon be taken away by their German captors and might never be seen again. He wondered if the Neraults’ teenage daughter, Colette, had been at home at the time, or the couple’s small son, Jean. Thoughts of the boy made him shake anew, for he realized that if he had been caught the Germans might have arrested his wife, Thérèse, and two-year-old son, Jack, as well. He loved them both dearly but didn’t think that he would be able to withstand German interrogation or torture, and suffered agonies thinking that his actions could have condemned them.

Then he remembered that he was supposed to meet his sister at the apartment that evening and he began to panic once more. He didn’t know where she was and couldn’t warn her not to come. In fact, in his panic, he couldn’t think of anyone that he could contact to tell what had happened. Finally, he resolved to return to rue Blatin and wait for Jacqueline to arrive so that he could warn her.

Retracing his steps, Francis eventually found himself outside the apartment building again. He watched it from a discreet distance, and from the comings and goings of other residents concluded that the Gestapo had left. By nightfall he had steeled himself enough to enter the building and search the flat to see if anything important had been left behind. He found nothing except the wreckage of the family’s home and belongings, and hoped that they had managed to destroy anything incriminating before the Gestapo had broken into the apartment. He met the concierge and had a few words with her. She confirmed that there had been five Gestapo men in the raiding party, and that M. and Mme Nerault and their daughter had all been at home and had been arrested and taken away. She did not know where they were being kept or what had happened to the boy.

Francis left and again positioned himself outside so as to be able to see Jacqueline before she entered the building. Twelve hours after the raid had begun he was horrified to see the Germans arrive yet again and go back into the apartment. They remained there for four agonizing hours while Francis kept watch for his sister’s arrival.⁸ She didn’t turn up and by the time the Germans left again at two o’clock the next morning he realized that she must have found out about the raid. Exhausted, he hid in an outhouse, where he remained for the rest of the night. In the morning, having had a little rest and feeling slightly calmer, he managed to contact Jacqueline.