Although the SOE was officially disbanded on January, 15, 1946, on orders from the new prime minister, Clement Attlee (and its personnel files sealed until 2004), there were still many mysteries left to unravel. For instance, Vera Atkins received authorization, paid for by the SIS (MI6), to travel to Germany in order to uncover the fate of the 52 SOE agents (12 of them women) who had failed to return.
One of the biggest mysteries surrounding the SOE involved H. A. E. Déricourt, an SOE agent involved with SOE’s Prosper network in Paris, who was highly suspected of being a double agent. When one of Pearl’s friends was arrested, most likely because of Déricourt, Pearl was determined to help him.
She also took action in a matter of recognition for those who had risked their lives for France. After the war, many members of the French Resistance were highly decorated by the de Gaulle government. However, those French resisters who had worked with the SOE were often slighted due to de Gaulle’s attitude toward the British. This greatly offended Pearl’s sense of justice.
Just after the war we spent many evenings with Armel Guerne and his wife, Périgrine. He was a writer and poet. You could discuss anything with him; I could listen to him for hours. Sometimes we talked until three in the morning! He and his wife enriched our lives a great deal. Armel had worked very hard in France supporting the Prosper SOE network. He was intent on fighting the Germans. That’s why he didn’t understand why the English imprisoned him on his arrival there after the liberation.
When he first arrived he was interrogated by the Intelligence Service—as were all the people who arrived during the war—but he didn’t tell them everything. That’s how I see it. He must have kept silent about the Germans having microfilms of correspondence between the networks and England. Maybe they sensed he was withholding information. So they put him in prison. Putting someone in prison because he was suspected of not telling everything wasn’t usually done in Britain. You weren’t locked up when you didn’t tell everything; you were kept and interrogated, but you weren’t put behind bars! But Armel was sent to prison and, to cap it all, with Germans. He was in a world apart, and, believe it or not, the prison guard was a German soldier! It’s a dreadful story.
We tried hard to help him. First I went to the British embassy in Paris. I rang London to ask if they could give me some information on the way he had been treated. I realized I was knocking my head against a brick wall. Some time after this, the British embassy told me there was an organization that took care of all the SOE networks in France. I went to see them. I met the famous Dr. Balachowski and a certain Monsieur Durand, who was the president of the free resistance federation Fédération Nationale Libre Résistance, also called Amicale Buckmaster.
I said, “I would like to know why Monsieur Guerne has so many problems.” All the members of the Prosper network were in the same boat; they didn’t understand why they had been arrested. They had been trapped in the most horrible net. On top of that, Armel Guerne found himself confronting the French police, who also accused him of being a traitor. He thought he was going to end up in prison a second time—he had already been arrested by the Gestapo in 1943 and had escaped from Buchenwald—which was something he could not stomach!
I asked these men for help because I thought that was their responsibility. But I learned they passed directly to the police any statements from people accusing Armel Guerne of treachery.
“What?” I said, “You’re supposed to be an organization helping people who fought in the Resistance, and you send these statements directly to the police, without giving Armel Guerne the possibility of defending himself? What’s that supposed to mean?” Do you know what they replied? “Madame, we only have one piece of advice to give you: keep out of this matter.”
I said, “Messieurs, when I undertake something, I keep at it until the end and you’re not going to stop me!”
I also questioned Vera Atkins, former colleague of Colonel Buckmaster. “I don’t know what to say,” she replied, “but I’ll investigate the matter.” After a while she called me. She said, “There’s been a gross error.” The error was caused by names being confused. That was possible because at the time we didn’t know H. A. E. Déricourt was behind the whole affair. I said to Vera Atkins, “As Colonel Buckmaster is kind enough to visit me each time he comes to Paris, can you ask him to alert me next time. I’ll ask Armel Guerne to come too.” I added, “For Armel it will be enough knowing, for his own self-respect and peace of mind, that it was a mistake. Even if it’s just verbal.” The colonel never came to see me again at home.
The matter was never completely cleared up. It’s all part of the mystery—the Prosper mystery. And there were other victims, and I’ll explain why. Because when Prosper and the others were in the “sorting centre” in Compiègne—the last step before being deported—they tried to understand why they had all been trapped. Jacques Bureau and Prosper [Francis Suttill], Gilbert Norman, and all the members of the network tried to understand why they had been caught in the net, and why the Gestapo had microfilms of documents sent to London from France. They concluded, “Someone in England has betrayed us.” In fact, it was Déricourt who was handing over these documents to the Germans. He handled a lot of correspondence because he was in charge of the landings and takeoffs of the Lysander planes, which transported agents, leaders, messages, and so on.
In France, people finally realized that something was not quite right with Déricourt’s work. When they went to England they told the SOE office, but the English wouldn’t believe it; they were pleased with Déricourt’s results. Only one person said she didn’t agree, because she didn’t trust Déricourt: Vera Atkins.
Following these complaints and suspicions from France, the office finally called Déricourt back to London. But he was put under surveillance in a hotel, not in prison. He wasn’t sent back to France again. He wasn’t cleared then: he hadn’t been tried; that came much later. He returned to France in 1945, was tried by court marshal, and [Nicholas] Bodington, a former SOE staff member, testified in his favor and he was cleared. I don’t know how he managed it.
Déricourt had a German card and agent number. Professor Michael Foot, the SOE historian, found that out when he was questioning a Gestapo agent in Germany who had worked with Déricourt. Michael Foot stated that in Déricourt’s opinion, only one person mattered, or rather two: himself and his wife. Later Déricourt went to Indochina. He appeared in court a second time accused of gold and currency trafficking. He was let off and switched to drugs trafficking. All in all he was an undesirable character! In the end he was killed in a private plane crash.
Armel Guerne died a long time after the war. He bought a mill somewhere in the Lot department; he passed away there. But he wrote an account of his life that was published in Australia, in English, which meant no one could read it in France. Much later it was translated into French and photocopied. The good thing about this story is that we were the ones who insisted he should write it. “With all those stories you have to tell, you should write a book. You must write your memoirs.” We really badgered him into it.
Philippe de Vomécourt, who was president of the Fédération Nationale Libre Résistance after the liberation, said to me one day, “The final list of nominations for the Legion of Honour for resistance fighters is coming up. You’ll see, we’ll be left out again. We’ll be ignored; it’s as good as done!”
Later at work, I was reading the Journal Officiel when I noticed that Livry-Level, whom I had met at my second parachute attempt, was on the Legion of Honor committee. I thought I might be able to see him. He was in the same situation as we were: as a former RAF pilot he was scorned by the French services, and he had had trouble with “La France Libre,” the French who were with de Gaulle in London.
First I asked de Vomécourt how many resisters deserved to be decorated. There were 42. I asked for an appointment with Livry-Level.
When I saw him, I said, “I don’t know if you remember me, we met …”
“Of course, I remember perfectly.”
“I’ve come to ask you a favor. You can’t have forgotten all the trouble you’ve had because you were in the RAF. Well I’m so disgusted with all the problems the French who worked with the British networks are having. I’d like to ask you for help for the next list of nominations for the Legion of Honor.”
“How many cases are there?”
“There are 42.”
“OK, let me have the files.”
Philippe de Vomécourt then organized a meeting with Livry-Level, and the 42 were nominated. But I swear if I hadn’t done that, not one would have received it. Once more it was a matter of luck; simply because I could read the Journal Officiel and I was fairly sure Livry-Level would help us.
Henri was one of the 42; so was Jean-Bernard Badaire, who became president of the Fédération Nationale Libre Résistance in 1983. Philippe de Vomécourt decorated them with the Legion of Honor in a private ceremony at the club of the Free French Forces!
But the French who had worked with the SOE continued to be slighted by the French government. A small example is Jean-Bernard Badaire, who returned to Saint-Cyr military school after the war, and who had worked with the SOE, learned that his military record contained the statement, “May have worked for a foreign allied power.” A foreign allied power!
Finally, in 1993, I asked to speak during the annual meeting of the National Confederation of the French Fighting Forces that was composed of three French federations. I asked for an explanation. I said that after 50 years we were fed up with this unconstructive treatment. I am really appalled and annoyed to see how the French Resistance members of the British networks are considered as nonentities. After all, I pulled quite a few French people into mine.
Heavens, during the war, I didn’t care whether I was working with the French or the English. For me it was the same thing. Politics are all very well, but when you want to get rid of an enemy, I’m afraid, as far as I’m concerned, politics have nothing to do with it. I never mixed in politics, and I never will.