Le Resistance

Jean Moulin was the Prefect of Eure-et- Loir when the French Army surrendered to the Germans in June 1940. On June 17, 1940, he revolted against the German demands and tried to cut his own throat rather than sign a text dishonoring the French Army (because of this, he is always depicted with a scarf around his neck). He joined the Resistance and played a central role in the process of unifying the different Resistance groups. He was arrested by the Gestapo in the Calurie district of Lyon, at a meeting of Resistance people. A collaborator betrayed the group by informing the Gestapo about the meeting. Moulin was tortured and died on the train transporting him to a concentration camp.

To survive in the Resistance, you had to be constantly on guard; you always had to have your wits about you. If a meeting was arranged and someone was late, always assume they have been caught and disperse. Never meet in a house with only one entrance. Never meet in a place or area that is unfamiliar. And if you are caught, you must remain resist the torture for 24 hours, so others have time to escape. Joining the resistance was a risky proposition, and the price of a mistake was usually a life.

While in Lyon, I visited the site of the Gestapo jail, the house where Jean Moulin was caught and the Centre D’Histoire de la Resistance ET de la Deportation. It is a well-done museum that uses personal history, film, newsreels, newspaper accounts and artifacts to tell the story of life in Lyon during the Nazi occupation. It was a time of informants, bravery and gratuitous violence; a time when you could disappear into the night and never be seen again.

The jail site has a Memorial wall with a sketch of Jean Moulin, his name and the names of those arrested, tortured and sent to the camps. The house was Moulin was arrested, ironically, has only a front door.

During the tour of the Centre D’Histoire, I had lagged behind the group a little (our guide had the wrong date to meet us and didn’t show). The young man from the US Attaché’s Office (an intern) who had met us to translate and get us in early came back to check on me. Just before he arrived, an elderly gentleman in a tie and a suit jacket with a red chevron on his lapel ask me “Parlez vous Francais?” Non, Monsieur. He seemed distressed by this. As the young intern arrived to prod me along, the man began speaking to me in French, explaining one of the exhibits and asking the intern to explain it to me, which he did. I didn’t know what to make of this guy but he seemed to have first hand knowledge. I wanted to hear what he had to say and the young intern was too polite to tell him we had to go. So I finished the exhibit with my own personal tour guide, and some students who lagged close enough to hear the man’s recitations. It turns out he was a member of the Lyon Resistance. I introduced him to my group, got some pictures and a warm handshake when we departed.

THE DARING ESCAPE!

As the dawn of August 25th, 1944 approached, Steve Weiss and seven comrades lay bedraggled in an irrigation ditch just east of Valence, and 150 yards from a farmhouse that was half hidden by a nearby peach orchard. Over night, they had been heavily shelled and left stranded as their company retreated. They would be listed as missing in action for 6 weeks. Telegrams would be sent home, the ominous opening words hitting family like a rifle shot: “We regret to inform you…”

During the early morning, with low spirits and at great peril, the eight GI’s were able to evade the Germans and seek sanctuary at the farmhouse. The family greeted them as liberators, not realizing the gravity of the situation. Steve, in halting, high school class French, shocked the farmer into reality. The farmer hid them in his hayloft and pondered what to do. Risking his life and his family, the farmer, Mssr. Reynaud, contacted some members of the Resistance serving as police officers in occupied Valence. A plan was concocted: the soldiers would dress in police uniforms and be driven to safety, four at a time, in a black Citroen police car. The SS was searching area house by house for cut off Americans. This was their only chance of escape. If they were caught dressed as French policemen, they could be shot as spies.

The first group left in the Citroen; the tension in the hayloft hung heavy in the air. An hour later, the Citroen returned, the first group having reached safety. The second group dressed in the uniforms, waved farewell to the Reynaud family, entered the Citroen and drove off. Fifteen minutes later, a German patrol burst into the hayloft. The Reynauds were gathered together and threatened at gunpoint. They revealed nothing.

The Citroen drove into enemy-held Valence. The Germans would hold it for another seven days. Incredibly, the car was not stopped by any of the German street patrols. It drove to an isolated farmhouse on the east bank of the Rhone where the four occupants were reunited with the first four. But the tenacious Germans continued their search, eventually closing in. With minutes to spare, the group was whisked out the rear entrance and dashed to the river bank, where they were rowed across the swift moving waters of the Rhone and taken to the Hotel Nord on the town square in Saint-Peray.

Steve fought with his rescuers into early September and became fast friends with a wily Gendarme Major named Fernand Mathey. He tasted his first Chateauneuf-du-Pape and witnessed the execution of a collaborator. Steve and his group joined up with O.S.S. American paratroopers until the Germans were cleared from the area. The war had moved northeast, and he rejoined the 36th Division somewhere between Lyon and the Vosges. On October 3rd, 1944, Steve Weiss turned 19.
(The above was borrowed and adapted from an article written by Stephen J. Weiss and provided me by the author)

Late yesterday afternoon, I visited the Reynaud farmhouse and met Madame Reynaud, the daughter of the farmer who risked his life to save eight GI’s from capture and possibly death. She was 11 years old in August of 1944. Earlier in the day, I had an unbelievable, three-course lunch in Montelimar with three elderly gentlemen, who as teenagers were members of the Resistance. One spent 3 years in a concentration Camp. After lunch, we visited the Montelimar Memorial to the Americans and Frenchmen who died during the occupation and liberation of the area, including those who were deported to concentration camps. On the wall, I noticed the name of Private Louis J. Werdman.

From the Riviera to the Rhine on the Flomax Express

Allied P.O.W's escaping Italy during WWII made their getaway on Von Ryan's Express. The men who trucked supplies to the front to keep the Army advancing were known as The Red Ball Express. Our merry crew has been nicknamed the Flomax Express (has something to do with frequent stops).

My traveling companions are Joe Eagers, Dick Semmel and Ron Lucken. Joe is a WWII vet, having served as a Private with the 10th Armored Division. At some point shortly after the war, Uncle Sam sent him to West Point and then Korea. He also did a tour in Vietnam as a Staff Officer and retired as a Lt. Colonel. Dick was a double dipper, doing 22+ years in the Air Force, retiring as a Sgt. Major and later working in the same places as a civilian employee. Ron is a former Naval Aviator (LtCmdr) and a Pilot for American Airlines for 20+ years. Joe and Dick have known each other for a number of years and travel together often. Ron has know Joe and Dick for a couple years and met them on another tour. Ron lives in Naples, Fla., Dick in Ohio and Joe now resides in North Carolina. They are all good guys and the ball busting is brutal.

Heye (pronounced Hi-ya) DeJong, our driver, is Dutch and has driven for Ambrose tours for the last 12 years. He is now semi retired, working for his daughter’s business twice a week and driving the occasional small tour. He is aces behind the wheel.

We are seeing France, one rest stop at a time.

TOULON AND MARSEILLE

The taking of Toulon and Marseille were critical to the success of Operation Anvil. First and foremost, the Allies needed a port to unload the material necessary to support the invasion and re-supply the troops. Second, continued German occupation of either port would allow them a base from which they could disrupt the Allied supply line. The task was given to the French 1er. The French landed on August 16, and moved west to Toulon, which was taken on August 24th. Marseille was liberated the next day.

Mont-Faron is a 1,500-foot mountain in the middle of Toulon. The road to the top hugs the edge of the hill and is only slightly wider than our van. You ride up close to the edge and the drop off is 100 feet at it shortest point. The view is spectacular but dizzying. There are three forts on the hill along with a restaurant that has excellent food (we had a terrific lunch). The first is at the top of the Mont and is now a museum, which, of course, is closed on Monday. The second is still active as a communications center and is also at the top but on the backside of the hill. The third is lower down and closed.

The high ground in Marseille is occupied by the Basilica Notre Garde. Marseille was heavily bombed and shelled prior to the French attack, but the Cathedral was not hit. The views from the Cathedral, like Mont-Faron in Toulon, are spectacular, but the ride up is a little less hairy.

By the way, on the French Riviera fashion is of the utmost importance, as you can tell from these mavens.

OPERATION ANVIL

A 5:30 a.m. on August 15th, 1944, Steve Weiss and the men of the Texas 36th Division boarded landing crafts and landed on a little rocky beach in St. Raphael, on the southern coast of France as part of Operation Anvil, the Second D-Day. Along with the 3rd and 45th Divisions, the were to move west to the Rhone River Valley and then north, to link up with the forces that had landed in Normandy two months early. Steve and his fellow T Patchers were experienced fighting men, their most recent combat having come in the break out at Anzio and the liberation of Rome.

The men had three immediate concerns has they the LCT’s assembled and then headed toward the beach in the predawn darkness. First, was would they land on the beach or have to wade in as they had done during their rehearsal landings? Wading in is slow and makes you more vulnerable to enemy fire. Second, what was the terrain like? How much distance between the waters edge and cover? And how steep was the terrain at the seawall? Third, how many Germans would be waiting to greet them? The got their answers at 8:00 a.m.

The LTC operators had assured the T Patchers that they would hit the beach with dry fight, a promise they delivered on. Green Camel beach, the code name of the Rocky patch on which Steve landed is roughly 100 yards from waters edge to the seawall. Unlike the English Channel, there are no tides in the Mediterranean. In Normandy, the Troops landed at low tide, putting them several hundred yards from the cover of the seawall. No tide allows the men to land closer to the cover. There were no Germans dug in to defend the beach and the resistance met was limited to harassing artillery fire and landmines.

The 36th was able to move inland to the city of St. Raphael quickly. Later in the day, Steve’s squad was resting near a bridge with a pillbox at one end. A friend of Steve’s was sitting near the pillbox when a shell came in. It hit the pillbox and instantly severed the friend’s leg.

After lunch, our group visited the Rhone American Cemetery, where 292 Americans, 62 unknown, are buried.

It is like the other American Military Cemeteries to which I have been, pristine, lush and somber. The cemetery is divided into four quadrants with a fountain in the center that is bordered by flowers. There is also a bronze relief map towards the back that shows the area and how the campaign progressed from August 15th to September 7th. It really helped me to understand the terrain and the strategy. The Chapel is elevated and at the rear, buffeted on each side by a fountain. On the wall which acts as the base of the Chapel are the names of Soldiers and Airmen that were killed but either their remains were not recovered or they were not identified. Sixty of them are buried here.

Also buried here is PFC Louis J. Werdmann, who was killed on August 25, 1944. He was riding on the back of a tank destroyer when he was killed. His friend Steve Weiss was right behind him on the front of the next tank destroyer in line.

Nice is nice

The countryside from Paris to Nice is covered with fields of beautiful yellow flowers and dotted with farms and villages. There are little clusters of white cows and sheep grazing in pastures divided by hedgerows and fences and the occasional stone barn and house. As you go farther south, the terrain becomes more rolling hills and finally mountains as you hit the coast. It is also hard to get a photo that does it all justice out the window of a train moving 150kph (90ish in mph) that makes a better mirror than window. But it is picturesque and quaint.

The plane rides to Philly and Paris were uneventful. I lucked out on the overseas flight as I sat on the aisle of the middle four seats and the two inside seats were unoccupied, affording extra space and legroom. The guy sitting on the aisle on the opposite side was from Seattle and had flown in that morning. He was on his way to meet his brother, who married a French Canadian and lives in Montreal, for a few days together in Paris and then 10 more in Tunisia. He is Italian, a naturalized citizen and although his accent made him a little tough for me to understand at times, we had some pleasant conversation about this, that and the other thing.

Upon arriving at Paris-CDG, I went to the ATM to obtain coin of the realm. Insert card, select English, punch in PIN, select amount: YOUR BANK HAS REFUSED TO AUTHORIZE YOUR TRANSACTION. Uh oh, Houston, we have a problem. Maybe I just punched a wrong key. Insert cart, select English, punch in PIN, select amount: YOUR BANK HAS REFUSED TO AUTHORIZE YOUR TRANSACTION. Ah, probably just this machine. That theory was shot to hell two ATM’s later. Now I do have a problem as I don’t have a European cell phone and my only contact is email. Ok, first things first. I have $100us, so I will exchange $50 and at least have some local coin. $50us gets you 27.72€ (the xchg is .68, screw the fact that the Post Standard had it at .76 in Wednesday’s paper, and the fee is 6.98€. OUCH!! But I was in no position to argue). So my immediate need for local coin was solved.

I then spied a guy using his laptop. I took a seat nearby and booted up. Two unsecured networks available. Connect to the first: please type in your password. Go to the second, which was through the Sheraton Hotel, located just above the train station. Password also required. Ok, up to the hotel lobby and the reception desk attended by a lovely young woman. Bonjour, parley vous Englais? Yes. So I take off my hat to expose my white hair and recount my tale of woe, advising that the only contact I have is thru email and would it be possible to access their wi-fi and email my poor wife and get this problem solved? Certainly, you can buy a one day card for 15€. Thank you but I only have 27.72€ and I don’t know how long I have to make it last. I’ll have to figure something else out. Well, the white hair and the long face must have gotten to her because as I turned to walk away she says wait, walks over to another counter and hands me an access card. Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle, merci beaucoup! You are a life saver.

So over to a chair in the lobby, fire up ole Betsy and send Lil an email that I’m stranded in Europe and can’t access the ATM…. sounds like an email scam. I know, I’ll toss in something cute that Nicholas used to say when he was small to prove it’s really me. So I tell here (the next several words have been censored for security purposes). There, that should do it. Now the only problem is that it is 4 a.m. in Syracuse, Lil won’t be up for another 2 ½ hours and the bank doesn’t open for another 4 ½ hours. No sweat, get a baguette sandwich, catch the train and all your cares will be gone by the time you arrive in Nice! Not quite. First thing I did in Nice was go to the ATM and it’s still a no go.

OK, get to the hotel and check email. Apparently, there has been so much card fraud in France that US banks will not authorize transactions unless you clear it first. I emailed back to Lil that I had just tried to get cash and was still shut out. She called the bank again and they had authorized her card not mine. The Chileans have an expression for this it’s (censored). The bank advised that they would correct this immediately. I should now be good to go. Stay tuned.

BTW, Nice is nice.

D-Day minus 1

Steve Weiss and I met five years ago in London. He had been called at the last minute to lead a D-Day to the Rhine tour sponsored by Ambrose tours as Hurricane Katrina had made it impossible for the original tour leader to leave his family in New Orleans. Steve, a WWII vet who now lives in London, arrived at the hotel just as I was checking in and he, my friend Steve Nathan and I went downstairs to the restaurant and had breakfast. We became fast friends. Since that September 2005 breakfast, we have traveled in Italy (another WWII tour), spent time in Paris and met several times in London. So the next two weeks provide me with the opportunity to see my friend again and get a personal guided tour of where he fought.

Tomorrow begins at 6 a.m. and doesn’t end until 6 p.m. Friday when I arrive in Nice (I know you all feel sorry for me) but I have a bunch of crossword puzzles and a book Lil gave to for amusement, so I will carry on. Hopefully, no volcanoes will erupt before 8 a.m. Paris time on Friday.

In the meantime, here are a couple web sites you can check out. http://www.warfoto.com/3rdsocietyphotos2ww2.htm

http://thunderbird88.skyrock.com/