June 4, 1941–July 20, 1941
The American Embassy Facility in Paris Becomes a Consulate
June 4, 1941
The Embassy is no more an Embassy.1 Today in the Ambassador’s reception room we gathered to receive our orders.
Fifteen Americans of the Embassy staff (three women and twelve men) will remain in Paris to carry on the work of the Consulate General of the United States of America. The sign “Consulate General of the United States” is placed on the side entrance of the Embassy on the rue Boissy d’Anglas. The main entrance to the Embassy is closed. Laurence W. Taylor,2 American Consul, is in charge.
Mr. Taylor spoke to those of us who will remain in Paris in a gathering in the reception hall, urging us to give our best to the work ahead. I was one of the fifteen Americans to remain in Paris. He counseled us to refrain from any observations outside the Embassy; that strict silence on the confidential matters we should be entrusted with must be absolute; that our small group was selected to carry on the traditions of the United States Foreign Service; and that we must not fail in any way. When later on I thanked him, he said, “It is a great adventure we are facing; I hope you will be happy. We do not know for how long it will be.”
Sitting before my fire tonight, I watched the bright flames quickly turn to embers. I close my eyes and memory goes back to those first days eight years ago when the Embassy building was new, scarcely finished in fact, when I began my new life in it. There were two hundred and fifty members of the staff. It is over now. Something else is ahead. The uncertainty might be unnerving were it not for the fact that fifteen members of our country’s Foreign Service are ordered to carry on its tradition and that “Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night”3 shall swerve us from completing our task. There may be danger ahead. These are perilous days. We cannot do otherwise than be ready for them….
June 5, 1941
Miss Marie-Louise Dilkes:
This will inform you that the telegraphic instruction from the Department dated June 3, 1941, has designated you to remain in Paris.
E.A.P.
My orders are definite.
June 8, 1941
Sunday. The holidays blend in with the ordinary days. There is no festal hour.
The French cling to any news that might hold a ray of hope. Today word goes about that the government is returning to Paris, that the occupying power will leave the city. Leave? The Nazis leave, now? The conqueror yielding?
Yesterday there was the rumour that General de Gaulle and his troops were in Syria; the day before we heard that the United States cannot keep out of the war and that soon the American troops will be on the streets of Paris.
The bread becomes blacker. At times it is not edible. Biscottes are better, so I resort to them.
Camembert cheese today is so different from the renowned French camembert before the war that one scarcely recognizes it. One eats it all, however, as there is not much else. There is no scraping of the outside of the cheese; food is too rare to lose any of it….
Madame de Seguin, a widow living in Nice with her two grown sons, has found some potatoes for her boys; for her the skins are sufficient to keep her from total hunger. The Nazis had promised more food after the Armistice, “but there is less,” complained one shopkeeper.
The radio announced the death of Kaiser Wilhelm4 at Doorn, Holland. It evoked other days, another war, another German aggression….
In the subway a Frenchman losing all control took a German officer by the shoulders and shook him and said, “We have had enough of you. When will you leave our country, never to return?” The surprised Nazi moved away but said nothing.
An automobile driven by a Nazi officer ran over and killed a Frenchman. A French bystander (perhaps a secret police) immediately killed the driver. The matter was hushed up.
The Embassy corridors are dark and silent. Only the ground floor shows signs of activity. Other floors and other sections of the building are under lock and key. Up on the first floor where I went in search of some papers needed in my work, there was no sound but the echo of my footsteps—there where the tread of hundreds of feet were heard, and the sound of gay voices rang out day after day….
June 23, 1941
The news rings out over the radio. It passes from one mouth to another as it filters through: yesterday Hitler attacked Russia. Ignoring the non-aggression pact made with Russia in 1939, with no declaration of war, Hitler suddenly sends his divisions toward the East.5 The French, at first bewildered at this turn of the wheel, slowly begin to realize that it may mean a turn for the better for the Allies.
Dorothy Thompson,6 the noted United States journalist, triumphantly and jubilantly proclaimed, “Everything I have predicted so far concerning international events has come true.” In a BBC address she said, “I did not think that Hitler would at this moment attack Russia. I did not think he was so stupid.” Her words reached us in Paris.
It is the beginning of the end of Nazism, the downfall of Germany.
New Orders for the American Consulate in Paris
June 27, 1941
Events in our personnel lives are rushing through the days with rapidity not known since the end of the tumultuous 30’s.
From our representative in Berlin by telegram June 25 comes the following to the American Consul, Paris:
I have been directed by the Department to instruct you as follows:
1) All officers and permanent employees are directed to leave your post in order to be out of Germany or occupied territories before July 157 and to proceed to Lisbon8 for further orders. You should proceed by the most direct route possible before that date allowing yourself sufficient time to comply with these instructions….
2) Arrangements are being made for the despatch of American passenger vessel from New York to Lisbon carrying German and Italian Consular personnel and will bring American personnel from Lisbon on the return voyage….
June 29, 1941
Preparations are beginning immediately. We had hoped to the last moment that we would remain in Paris until the war ended. It is all over now; we are leaving France….
Five thousand Russians throughout occupied France have been arrested. Elderly General Goleweski of our Embassy for many years has been taken. Alexander Ignatieff, also attached to our Embassy for many years, loved and respected by everyone on the staff, left for Marseille before he was taken. He has gone and will cross the frontier en fraude to join our Consulate in Marseille. We are awaiting word that he crossed over into unoccupied France safely, but we do not know yet.
July 3, 1941
Maxim’s was crowded last night as our party of eight sat down to our reserved table. I had been invited by an American with three other United States citizens and three French.
I was much surprised on entering the restaurant to find a long table in the middle of the large room where twenty German officers in civilian dress were seated. At another large table were the Italians. It was a gay party; champagne flowed freely, and the seven-course dinner included the finest cuisine in Paris. At the left of our table along the banquette, Pierre Laval was dining alone; on our right, Madame Lanvin of the famous and perhaps oldest dressmakers’ establishments in France was dining.
The orchestra seemed to be endeavoring to please these guests who had invaded their country, or was it a force majeure?9 I tried to hear the beautiful strains of a Strauss10 waltz, but in vain. I wondered why beautiful music is played so often to those who do not listen….
We left toward midnight. I was glad when it was over. I seemed not to have realized, before accepting my hostess’s invitation, that while food would flow in abundance at Maxim’s, my French friends were searching for enough food simply to keep alive. All is confusion. Much is contradictory in this tangled skein of world events and in this Occupation of France by a ruthless foe.
I did not return to Maxim’s; I shall not return until it once more belongs to France….
Consulate in Paris Prepares to Leave Occupied France
July 4, 1941
Our great national holiday passed in preparation for our exit from occupied France, which is set for July 19th. I am celebrating it in spirit. I look up to that Power that governs the universe and pray that as our entry into war moves nearer, our nation will be protected, and as our men and women go into battle, it will be without destructive hate….
Word came that Alex Ignatieff was taken by the Vichy government police at the frontier. The prison was at a distance from where he was arrested. He was obliged to find someone to pay his transportation to prison, but no one wished to do so. It was therefore somewhat ironic that Alex paid for his own travel expense to prison. However, when he arrived, and when the inspectors realized that he had fought in the French Army before the fall of France, and that he had been attached to the American Embassy for so many years, he was free to go on his way and proceeded to Marseille.
July 14, 1941
The French national holiday was quite different. Whether it is because there is sentiment in the heart of everyone that the Nazis are at the beginning of their fall from power, or whether it is this glimmer of optimism that gives courage to the populace, we cannot know. There is dancing tonight on the streets of Paris, and the crowds stroll up the Champs-Élysées and into the cafés. There are no fireworks, however. The cinemas are closed, and the police are entrusted to see that order is kept. A few persons who had the courage to wear the blue, white, and red cockade of the French had them torn from their shoulders. A young French girl with the colors of her country draped around her was taken up by the police. Blue, white, and red flowers were taken from a French woman who was carrying them home. “V” for victory was written on many of the buildings. I was mixing with the crowds and moved over toward the Rond-Point des Champs-Élysées. I stood on the outside of a group surrounding a man being taken off by the police who kept shouting, “Vive de Gaulle—vive la France!”
July 15, 1941
Not finding any leather shoes in the shops, I bought a pair of wooden shoes.11 If I had searched throughout the country for a souvenir of France at war, there could not have been one more in keeping with French art and these stirring times than these beautifully made shoes. The soles and sides are of solid wood with a cut of exquisite design; the upper parts and straps are of woven straw. Besides, they are amazingly comfortable….
July 18, 1941
Special trains from Berlin carrying the United States Diplomatic Corps from Germany, Italy, Holland, and Belgium went through Paris tonight and passed on to the Spanish frontier at Hendaye.
Tomorrow we leave; we count the hours, the moments. Tonight, I left the Embassy overwhelmed by depression. French friends met me on the way home. They are sad and apprehensive; their friends, the Americans, are leaving. They feel desperately alone, deserted as it seems to them by their protectors. I could only urge them to wait, to hold on, and to bide their time. “We shall return to you without fail,” I said….
Consulate in Paris is no More
I awoke after a sleepless night. Nothing seems real. I am leaving France. My bags are ready. I look over longingly at the château and at my flowers on my balcony. Shall I ever see them again? They have been such friends….
The car belonging to Mr. Whitcomb,12 the well-known U.S. journalist, took me to the Austerlitz station where our special train was waiting. En route I thought of the dinner party five months ago when Peggy de Nemours told me that the Diplomatic Corps would leave France on special trains. I did not believe her; I could not….
Mademoiselle, my governess, reached the Quai [Austerlitz] a few moments before the train was ready to leave. “Dear Mademoiselle, I am so grateful for your kindness, your loyalty and devotion; nothing was too much trouble for you. You will take care of the balcony, the flowers, and the apartment until I return?” Shall I return?
The French members of the Embassy, the journalists, photographers, and others were at the station to see us off. The young French girls were carrying baskets of flowers from which they took carnations, lilies-of-the-valley, etc. and, with tears in their eyes, handed them to us as we leaned from the windows. The journalists were taking notes and the photographers were flashing their cameras as the train moved slowly away….