Lyon
August 27, 1942
That morning Klaus awoke with an annoying hangover, which was not helped by the constant ringing of the telephone in his room at the casino. He grabbed the receiver and straightened his shoulders. It was the Reichsführer-SS, Heinrich Himmler.
“Sir!” Barbie said, swallowing down his nerves.
“Our office in Paris has informed me that the quotas of Jews promised to France are not being met. You’d better get in the car right now and head to Vichy. Make Pierre Laval keep his word, and remind him that we want Europe to be cleansed of the Jews before the war ends. Is this understood?”
“Yes, Reichsführer-SS.”
“I’m expecting a report from you tonight.”
Klaus wiped the sweat from his brow after hanging up. He had only spoken with his boss one other time, and in that instance the conversation had consisted of one phrase. If the SS chief had called him, it meant that the matter took precedence over everything else. The capital of the free zone was over two hours from Lyon. If he left right then, he could be there before noon.
Klaus dressed in haste and called for his chauffeur. He told the man to get to Vichy as fast as possible. Each minute counted. About two-and-a-half hours later, they were at the Vichy government’s headquarters at the Hôtel du Parc. Marshal Pétain resided next door with his wife at the Hôtel Majestic.
Two French soldiers saluted Klaus at the entrance. At the front desk his demand to see Prime Minister Laval was accommodated immediately. Within minutes Klaus had the second most powerful man in unoccupied France sitting before him.
“Mr. Barbie, to what do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit?”
“This morning Heinrich Himmler, Reichsführer-SS, called me himself. He is worried. The promised shipments of Jews aren’t arriving.”
Pierre Laval cleared his throat nervously. He knew that the Nazis did not play around. “Things are proving more difficult than anticipated.”
“Our information services in Lyon and other cities have alerted me to the fact that certain associations are attempting to rescue foreign Jews from deportation. They are claiming what I believe are called exemptions.” Klaus leaned in closer and spoke very softly. “There will be no exemptions. Is that clear?”
Laval swallowed before answering. “We’ll inform the prefects and intendants, never worry.”
“I do worry. The damned clergy and Communists are behind all of this. If your people can’t get control of the unoccupied zone, the Germans will.”
Klaus Barbie stood, and Laval followed suit.
“We want at least sixty thousand Jews before the end of the summer, and we don’t care how you get them.”
The SS officer stormed out. As he descended the stairs two by two, he mused on what Himmler’s call meant. Klaus was reaching the heights of the SS ladder. His hard work had not been in vain. Before returning to Lyon, he had the chauffeur stop at a bar. It was to calm his nerves, he explained. Klaus felt the strong call to a new mission: to oversee the shipments of Jews from Lyon and keep his superiors informed of all the happenings of that region in France.