Knowing that they were still close to the town of Markkleeberg, Didi and her two friends retraced their steps. They had to find somewhere to rest and make plans for what they should do next. They didn’t want to go anywhere near the marching column in case the guards found them, and the most logical place to head towards was the camp, which they knew would be empty.
The people of Markkleeberg had been right to think that the presence of the Junkers factory in their town would attract Allied bombing raids. The Markkleeberg area had been bombed several times, and while heading back towards the town the girls came across a deserted house that had been damaged during a raid. It had a hole in one of the side walls that they managed to climb through, and they collapsed, exhausted, on the floor. They rested for a while and then explored the house, finding that although it was damaged, it was still relatively secure. It was the perfect place to spend the night. Although it was April, it was still bitterly cold and there had been sporadic snow showers. The girls were still wearing their thin, gray overalls but they had brought their ragged camp blankets with them, so managed to cover themselves, and they slept fitfully through the intensely cold night, huddled together on the bare floor.
The next morning they awoke hungry and thirsty, and knew that they would have to find some food if they were to be able to continue their journey. Clambering through the hole in the wall into daylight they were able to see exactly where they were, and discovered that there was what appeared to be a smallholding along the road. Setting off towards it in the hope of finding something to eat, they hadn’t gone very far when a dog started barking. It had obviously heard them approach and, terrified that they would be discovered, they turned and fled back to the bombed house, still hungry. It was too risky to try to find real food, so they had to make do with some dandelion leaves that they found along the road, quenching their thirst with the sprinkling of snow that covered them. Although not the feast that they had long dreamed of in the camp, it was better than nothing and would do until they managed to get some real provisions.
Frightened by the encounter with the dog, the girls remained in the house for another day while trying to decide what their best course of action would be. They were still worn out and bitterly cold, but at least they could rest and stay sheltered from the wind and the snow flurries. They knew that it was vital to remain alert and they listened for any sounds that might suggest that their hiding place was in danger of being discovered. By now it was likely that they had been missed by other prisoners, and perhaps by the guards if they were still doing a roll call each day. Although it seemed improbable, they couldn’t dismiss the possibility of there being a search party out looking for them. At intervals throughout the day they could hear the sounds of vehicles and people, but none came close enough to cause them any real concern, so they decided that the bombed house was as safe a refuge as they could expect to find and that they could remain there for another night.
They spent their time that day talking to each other about their lives and the hopes they had had, before the war had robbed them of their dreams for the future. It was a luxury they had not had in the camp, where they had been hard at work during the day and too tired in the evenings to do anything but collapse into their beds before the whole exhausting process began again the following day.
Didi still did not want to admit to anyone that she was not French and had actually been working for the British. It was not that she distrusted her companions; she simply felt that she must keep up the pretense until she knew for certain that her disclosure would not create problems for any of them. She had no difficulties in passing herself off as French, and Yvette and Suzanne had no suspicions that she was anyone except who she said she was. Her French was faultless, and all her memories of her childhood and of growing up in France were real, so there was plenty to talk about without telling the girls her real identity. The only thing that she had to remember was that she was Jacqueline du Tertre, but that story was so imprinted upon her mind that it required almost no thought at all.
Yvette came from Caen and had been a prisoner of the Germans for longer than either Didi or Monique. She had been a sublieutenant in the Air Force (l’Armée de l’Air) but, after the fall of France and the splitting of the l’Armée de l’Air into two sections—those who had escaped from France and joined the Free French Forces (Forces Françaises Libres) and other military units, and those flying for the French Armistice Air Force on behalf of the Vichy government—she was without a position. She decided to join the Resistance and, in July 1943, became a member of a group called the Velite-Thermopylae, a Gaullist intelligence network that was part of the RF, the Free French Section of the SOE, where she served as an intelligence agent and a dispatch rider. Her important but dangerous role had lasted for only four months before she was betrayed, by whom she never discovered. She was arrested by the Gestapo and kept for 48 hours in the prison in Caen before being sent to Paris on 8 November 1943, where she spent another few days at the prison in Fresnes.1 After she left Fresnes she was taken to Ravensbrück, where she remained for almost a year before going on to the camp at Torgau with Monique, Didi and Suzanne, and others such as the “little paratroopers”—Violette Szabo, Lilian Rolfe and Denise Bloch. When the latter group was returned to Ravensbrück, Yvette, Monique and Suzanne were all sent to Abteroda, along with Didi, and there, like Didi, Yvette worked in the aircraft engine factory, before all four girls were transferred to Markkleeberg in February 1945.2
Yvette knew more than Didi about Monique, as she lived a mere 20 kilometers from Monique’s family home at the Château d’Audrieu in Normandy, between Caen and Bayeux. Monique’s father was the French pilot Philippe Livry-Level, who flew a Mosquito with the Royal Air Force in England and had taken part in the famous raid on the prison at Amiens in February 1944. He had been furious when he discovered that his daughter had been recruited by a British Army officer, Captain Attlee, for a secret mission, despite him refusing to give his permission. He had been so angry that he had written a letter of complaint to Air Vice-Marshal Broadhurst, the Air Officer Commanding No. 83 Group, which was one of the main parts of the 2nd Tactical Air Force, providing support to Allied forces during the invasion of Europe.3 The letter had been passed to the senior intelligence officer at the headquarters of 21 Army Group, who stated in a letter that “they have had full knowledge of the case and have had all their intelligence officers and agents looking for your daughter but that they have not yet made contact with her but that they will not cease to try and do so.”4 The letter was dated 3 September 1944, which was nearly three weeks after Monique had been transported to Ravensbrück concentration camp. It was small wonder that the 21 Army Group men had had no luck in trying to trace her.
It was thought that the reason Monique had agreed to work for the British, without her father’s permission, was that on 8 June, two days after D-Day, a ghastly event had taken place, which she knew she would never forget. Twenty-six Canadian soldiers had been executed at her family home after being taken prisoner by a reconnaissance battalion of the 12th SS Panzer Division Hitlerjugend. Monique had been in the grounds of the château and had seen some SS officers take three of the captured Canadians at gunpoint towards a wooded area. When one of the Canadians hesitated at the edge of the woods, she witnessed him being hit with the butt of an NCO’s rifle. The young man staggered after his comrades into the trees, and a few moments later Monique heard three shots and then saw the SS men return without their prisoners, the NCO loudly boasting that it was he who had killed them. A similar scene was going on no more than 100 meters away and, not wanting to see any more, Monique rushed back into the château, where she tried to calm herself by reciting the words of the funeral service in Latin. After that, she could do nothing except join the British when asked and try to avenge the young Canadians’ deaths.5
If Didi learned anything about Suzanne that day in the bombed-out house, she did not recall what it was. The lack of food and her poor state of health had weakened Didi considerably more than her companions, and although she was now free and should have been uplifted by that, her mental state was still so fragile that she found it hard to retain much of what she was told. She still had the cough she had suffered from for several weeks, and Yvette and Suzanne were concerned about how they would cope if she collapsed and was unable to continue walking with them. They urged her to rest as much as possible and were pleased when the next morning all three felt sufficiently rested to be able to continue their journey.
Crawling once more through the hole in the wall, they found a road and began to walk along it, judging the direction from the rising sun. They had made up their minds to go to Leipzig and, if the advancing Americans had not yet reached the city, find somewhere to hide until they did arrive. Soon Didi’s energy began to fade and she was desperate to rest. Her legs ached and she wheezed with every breath. She knew that she was in a much worse condition than her friends, but didn’t want to let them down and refused to stop. The willpower that had sustained her throughout her captivity came to her aid once more and, although she walked very much more slowly than she would have liked, with the help of the two French girls she managed to keep moving.
For some hours they made very slow progress along the road that they hoped would take them to Leipzig, telling themselves that each step brought them closer to the advancing Americans and freedom. Then, rounding a bend, they saw with sheer dread a road junction ahead with a small group of German soldiers standing on one corner. They couldn’t turn back without arousing suspicion and were sure that whatever they did, their escape attempt was now drawing to a close. The Germans would surely recognize their camp overalls, despite the thin blankets they had draped over their shoulders in an attempt to keep warm and disguise their appearance. At least the red triangles on their left sleeves were covered. After a few hurried words, and with heavy hearts, they decided to go on. There was nowhere else to go.
As they reached the junction, one of the soldiers stepped forward and barred their way. He demanded to see their identity papers. Trying not to appear nervous, they explained that they were French workers who had volunteered to come to Germany to help with the war effort; they hadn’t yet been given any papers, as they were on their way to join their first work party and had been told they would receive everything they needed once they arrived. The story sounded weak even to them, but they could think of nothing else to say that might convince the Germans to let them go. They stood for several minutes while the men talked amongst themselves, obviously trying to decide what to do with them. Didi knew that they only had to look at her and her companions to see that they were not what they claimed to be. All three girls were extremely thin; their overalls, unsuitable for the time of year anyway, were stained and threadbare; and she knew that if they came a little closer, the guards would undoubtedly spot the lice that had made their home in the matted hair of all three. It had to be obvious to the soldiers that they were escaped prisoners and they waited for the handcuffs to be snapped onto their thin wrists.
Unbelievably that didn’t happen. After another quick conversation with his colleagues, the soldier told the girls that they were free to go. Incredulous, they smiled, thanked him and went on their way as quickly as they could, fearful that he might change his mind.
The girls never really understood how they had managed to avoid arrest. Their best guess was that the soldier had known that they were escapees but that, in view of the imminent arrival of the Allied forces, neither he nor his colleagues had the time or inclination to do anything with them. There was also another possibility: the men may not actually have been soldiers. At this stage of the war the troops in the area consisted of Wehrmacht, SS and a group called the Volkssturm, a shambolic collection of boys as young as 16 and older men who had not been called up elsewhere. The Volkssturm could loosely be described as the German version of the British Home Guard but were not as well trained; nor did they have proper uniforms, as they had only been formed the previous autumn, but, sporting armbands, some of this ragtag bunch wore uniforms from their civilian occupations and could be mistaken for regular troops. If these “soldiers” were in fact from the Volkssturm, it might explain why they let the girls go: they would not have wanted to have three starving prisoners to feed and may not have had anywhere to take them, even if they had been able to arrest them.
Whatever the reason, Didi and her two companions were amazed at their good fortune but, knowing that they could not rely on it lasting, resolved to travel through woods where possible rather than use the roads. For the rest of the day they hid themselves as much as they could, and at the faintest sound they ducked behind bushes or fell into ditches to avoid having to speak to anyone again.
They had no further contact with the enemy, but by the time they reached a village on the outskirts of Leipzig the light was fading and, with it, the hope of finding food. Their stomachs were aching with a hunger that was even worse than it had been in the camp, where they had at least had the thin soup and dried bread to sustain them. They were all exhausted, mentally and physically, and by now barely able to support each other. It was imperative that they find somewhere to stay for a few days to rest and regain their strength. They came across a church and hid in the grounds, huddling together against the cold so that they could sleep for a few hours during the night.
The next day they knew they would have to look for another shelter. It was obvious that the Germans were still in control of the area but they were hopeful that the Americans would soon reach Leipzig. When they found it was a Catholic church in whose grounds they had sheltered, Didi persuaded her two companions to trust the priest not to betray them. They went looking for him and found him praying inside the church. The good Father regarded the three frail figures in horror and, with the help of hand signals, as he did not seem to speak French, shepherded them into the rectory. His face showed the shock he felt at the sight of their emaciated bodies and their ragged clothes; and when the blanket slipped from the shoulders of one of the girls and he saw the red triangle on her arm, he knew for sure that they were what he had suspected, escaped prisoners, and he could see that they had been treated very badly. With a lot more hand signals and a few odd words of French, the priest let them know that they could remain in the rectory until the arrival of the advancing Allied troops. Then he called his housekeeper and said something to her that the girls did not understand. She looked at the disheveled, filthy creatures, nodded, and then quickly went out of the room, returning several minutes later with a large tray. On it were bowls of thick, steaming hot soup and some pieces of bread—not the hard, stale bread that they had become used to but fresh, soft bread that tasted wonderful.6 Didi’s instinct to trust the priest had been right. Still, they had been extremely fortunate, as there were many clergy who, whatever their true beliefs were, had taken the easy option and sided with the government.
When the girls had eaten and drunk some water, the housekeeper led them to a room in the rectory, where she made up beds for them, and then showed them into the bathroom, where they found soap and clean towels. It was the first time in many months that they had been shown any kindness at all—for Yvette it was the first time in well over a year—and they couldn’t quite believe what was happening to them. The housekeeper didn’t seem to understand why they stood looking at her in bewilderment, and began miming and pointing to the towels to show them that they could have a wash. Then she left them and, amidst tears of relief and joy, for the first time since they had been captured they were able to get themselves clean and begin to clear the lice from their hair.
For the next few days they remained at the rectory, where the priest and his housekeeper treated them with great kindness. They slept a lot and in a very short time, Suzanne’s and Yvette’s health began to improve. But Didi’s chest infection did not clear; indeed she seemed to be getting very much worse. She was finding it hard to breathe, still had the painful cough and slipped in and out of consciousness until the priest, who was obviously worried, went off to find a doctor he could trust to treat her. With the medication the doctor prescribed she began to improve.
By the time they heard the approach of soldiers and tanks, Didi felt well enough to go out and greet their liberators. The priest urged caution, as there had been Red Army soldiers in the area and he didn’t want the girls to fall into their hands. But soon it was obvious that the Americans had arrived. The city of Leipzig and the surrounding area were captured by the 2nd and 69th Infantry Divisions of the United States First Army on 19 April 1945.
Didi and her friends tearfully thanked the priest for all his help. He was a true Christian who, with his housekeeper, had done everything he could for them. They would never forget his kindness. But now it was time for them to start the long journey home. Didi recalled that she told the Americans “I was English and asked them if they would show us where the Red Cross was. However, they would not do this but put us in a house for one night.”7 No longer frightened, the three girls slept really soundly for the first time in many months, secure in the knowledge that their ordeal was finally over and they were safe at last.
The following day they were taken to a building that the United States Army had commandeered to use as a temporary prison camp and were invited to tell their stories. The two French girls explained that they had been members of the French Resistance and had been captured and transported to Germany. Didi told them that she was a British agent, and that she had been held at the labor camp of Markkleeberg until she and her companions had escaped while being evacuated. Didi recalled: “The captain of the camp interrogated us with a lot of SS in the room. When he had heard our story he presented us to the SS and told them that as they had treated us so badly they would have to pay for it but the SS said they knew nothing about us.”8
The day after their interview Suzanne and Yvette were sent to join other French nationals in a Red Cross transit camp, where they would stay until they could be sent back to France. The three girls were sad to part but vowed to keep in touch when they were all back in their own homes. Yvette made Didi repeat the address she had given her until she could do it with no mistakes, and then they hugged each other and said goodbye.
Didi was taken to another camp to be questioned further about her role as a British agent.
I was interrogated by someone in the American Intelligence Service. They asked me my number and I told them I had no number; they asked for my papers and I told them my story how I was arrested and that naturally the Gestapo had taken my papers away. I told them I was a wireless operator and that I knew Colonel Max Baxter [Maurice Buckmaster]. They were not convinced and told me I would have to go through many more camps before I was passed by the British authorities.
At the last camp I was again interrogated and told them exactly the same, how I was landed in France and arrested by the Gestapo. They expressed great surprise at a plane being able to get there in the night. They were very curious and asked me a lot about the organization, schools etc. and I did not want to give too much away so they said I was a German agent. They told me they would send a message for confirmation and for the time being I would have to stay in the camp with the Nazi girls.9
It is inconceivable that even though Didi’s account of what had happened to her was muddled, the Americans couldn’t see beyond her fragile mental and physical state, and recognize that she was a victim of the Nazis, not one of them. Because the work, and especially the organization of the SOE, had been secret it was unknown to the American occupying troops, so it is perhaps understandable that they assumed it didn’t exist and that the details Didi had given them were lies. But it is incredible that they believed that a woman who was seriously malnourished, painfully thin, visibly ill and wearing filthy, ragged clothes could be a Nazi when all the Nazi women in their custody were well fed and clothed, and seemingly in good health.
Didi herself wondered how they could possibly think that, when it should have been obvious to them that she had been a victim of Nazi brutality. Even if they were suspicious, was it really too much to ask that she be given the benefit of the doubt while her story was checked? “They said they were sorry but there were so many German agents they had to be careful. They said even if they did have a message saying I was English it would not prove anything as I might still be a German agent.”10 It was not fair, either, that they should disbelieve her because of their ignorance about what had happened to Allied prisoners in concentration camps. Unlike many of her fellow prisoners, who had not been able to withstand the deprivation of life in the camps and had yielded, not living to see the end of the war, Didi had survived; her belief in God, her iron will and her fierce need to survive had kept her from giving up during the long months she had been imprisoned. But now she was so distressed by the reactions of the Americans that she was perilously close to giving up. At the very point when she had finally believed that her ordeal had come to an end, the freedom that she longed for seemed to be slipping away from her once more.