One day a German asked me, “Why did you do it; what pushed you to become involved in the resistance?” I said, “Intense anger,” and it was true. Intense anger against all the injustices.
We could see the bombing in London and we heard of the battles going on in Africa and other places. But what made me really furious was the occupation. When I arrived in Paris from Normandy, shortly after July 14, 1940, notices were placarded, “Mr. So and So was shot last night.” There were notices like that on columns along rue de Rivoli. Those poor people had been caught outside after the curfew, taken to a police station, and if there was any action whatsoever against the Germans during the night, they were shot. That is what a hostage is: some poor defenseless person. And that is something I cannot abide.
Imagine that someone comes into your home—someone you don’t like—he settles down, gives orders: “Here we are, we’re at home now; you must obey.” To me that was unbearable.