July 20, 1941–December 26, 1941
The American Consulate Leaves Paris
July 20, 1941
The ride was dusty beyond all count. The intense heat obliged us to keep the windows open, and the dirt poured in covering our clothes, faces, hair, and valises.
At Hendaye this morning we were ordered to go into Biarritz as the German authorities would not allow us to cross the frontier.1 The Hôtel Carlton had been requisitioned, and with private rooms and baths, we felt most luxurious.
July 21, 1941
At 10:30 a.m. we left Biarritz for Hendaye to cross into Spain. Again we could not cross the border, and we returned to Biarritz. The Nazis had orders from Berlin to prevent our advance. Again, we spent the night in the Hôtel Carlton.
July 22, 1941
This morning we were across the border and into Spain. We wondered at this sudden decision. We learned President Roosevelt had called the captain of the USS West Point bringing German and Italian Consuls from America. The cable instructed that if we were not across the border within twelve hours, the captain was to return to New York where, in the United States, the Germans and Italians would be interned for the duration of the war.
July 24, 1941
Lisbon with its brilliant lights, its great quantities of food, its free press, and its heat impressed us greatly. Spies were everywhere; espionage and counter espionage were at work.2 After the empty counters in department stores and shops in Paris, we were dazzled by the abundance of clothes, silver, jewels, books, materials, and food.
Lisbon has a rich background of early Moorish history and architecture; its reconstruction from the 1755 Lisbon earthquake that destroyed the whole city, and its South American (Brazil) and Indian (East Indian) coloring make it unique and different from any other large European city.3 I climbed the seven hills of the city. From a tenth-century Moorish castle I saw the panorama of the city with the clear waters of the Tagus River beyond, glistening in an ever-brilliant sun. I went down to the old Moorish quarter where brown, naked children run about on the dirt roads of the small alleys and passageways. I sat at tables on the Avenida [da Liberdade]4 underneath the stars and wandered into old churches and buildings of old magnificence. At Estoril, I joined the crowds of refugees and summer vacationers on the beaches….5
Orders to Return to Unoccupied France
August 11, 1941
My orders were given to me at the Lisbon station. I was to return to Lyon, France, which was of course unoccupied (or practically) by the Germans, to await further orders.6 The American Consulate General in Lisbon immediately applied for a visa for my entry into France. Most of the other members of the U.S. Foreign Service boarded the USS West Point for its return voyage to the United States from where many will be sent to North Africa, South America, and other countries, or remain in Washington at the Department of State.
Rumours were incessant that the Germans would eventually occupy the whole of France. The Portuguese press announced the triumphant progress of the German Army into the Ukraine….7
August 31, 1941
The train was overcrowded as it left Lisbon on the twenty-eighth, carrying thousands of restless travellers. What activities during these eventful times were taking them through the countries of the world?
In Madrid8 food was scarce. The roads were dusty, and all the ancient splendor of the city seemed lost in this epoch of war that appears to be destroying everything of beauty in every country….
We reached Portbou, the Spanish frontier [with France] at midnight. Fifteen pieces of our luggage were taken from the train and placed on the platform of the station for inspection by the Spanish custom authorities. The declaration of all the money in our possession came under the same rule of inspection. Two United States diplomatic couriers were with us helping us in every way. With our diplomatic status we had no trouble.
Within an hour we reached Cerbère, the French frontier [with Spain], where again the inspection took place. I offered some chocolate to the French woman who marked my valises, but she refused it, saying it was not allowed. A chief inspector was quite near, and it was obvious the lady was afraid he might think she was accepting a bribe.
“Mr. Inspector,” I said to him, “may I give Madame some chocolate?” He nodded an assent, knowing no doubt that my intention was to give her not a bribe but this small gift. Chocolate cannot be found in France today.
September 3, 1941
I am once again breathing the atmosphere of this France that I love. We are on our way not to Paris but to Lyon and Vichy. For how long? How long shall it be before I move on again? This war disturbs the routine of one’s life….
Swarming crowds were at every station getting on and off the train. The corridors of the train were lined with suitcases. People were sitting on them as the coaches were too full to hold all the travellers. In what seemed to be a hermetically sealed coach I occupied, it was impossible to sleep with no air or with air that was not fresh. I went out into the corridor and sat down on my valises. My thoughts were racing through my surcharged brain almost as fast as the train rumbling at fast speed through the night. I thought of the French, so carefree, so effervescent, caught in this web of government by a cruel master. Their country was cut in two. Somewhere brother was fighting against brother: Vichy French and Free French.
I had a French paper in my hand, one that I had picked up at Cerbère. It told of the increase in crimes of the Nazis against the French in Paris. There were reprisals, of course, as the Résistance was becoming more active. German officers were found shot in the subway stations. The bodies of German soldiers were picked up dead or dying on the streets of Paris after dark or in isolated places throughout the occupied zone. The hatred of the French towards their captors was increasing at the same time. Where is it leading them, captor and captive? Hatred, revenge, reprisals, torture, death….
How can I love my enemy under such appalling circumstances? But, I thought, when shall I ever learn that hatred is not, cannot be, a solution to the problem of evil? When shall the universal education begin, and the teaching that only in love is liberation found? Fortunately, this spirit of love is found in individuals. Were it not so, there would be complete chaos. I thought that only by love can the nations be guided intelligently. World problems are becoming too great for human minds to solve. “Nothing can bring you peace,” writes Ralph Waldo Emerson, “but the triumph of principles.”9 Nothing can bring love to me but the love I bear; I must love, and I must spread my love….
“Lyon!” I was awakened from a half sleep, one from my thoughts. The rumbling of the train had come to a stop. It was seven o’clock. From my window, as the train slowly entered the station, I saw a grey, dismal sky. There was a feeling of rain in the air.
There was nothing to fear I thought concerning a room as we, my traveling companion also of the Foreign Service and I, had sent a telegram from Lisbon to the Carlton Hôtel10 in Lyon requesting them to reserve two single rooms. One of the few taxis at the station took us to the hotel. Our sense of security regarding rooms was quickly dispelled. The management said that he had never received our telegram and that there were no rooms available.
To find a room therefore was a problem indeed. Hotel after hotel refused to give us a room. In the lobby of the Grand Hotel where we had breakfast, we sat until nine o’clock when the American Consulate would open.
We learned the Hôtel Carlton is the headquarters of Nazi officers. Is this unoccupied France? The Nazi reins are not as taut in this so-called unoccupied zone as they are in Paris, but they are here. The Gestapo, spies, collaborators, secret service men, and people of all nationalities are gathered in this dismal, cheerless, gloomy city of Lyon.
September 12, 1941
Lyon is an old city of France and the birthplace of great Frenchmen and beautiful women: Philibert Delorme (the architect who designed the Tuileries), Coysevox the sculptor, Maréchal Suchet, Madame Récamier, Chenavard the painter of French history, and Meissonier the great painter.11 Its great silk industry dating from the 10th century and its university make Lyon the third largest, and an important, city of France.
Lyon lies between two beautiful rivers, the Rhône and the Saône, surrounded by lovely hills and suburbs. Rarely have I seen such a luxuriance of trees and foliage. Built in 43 B.C. under Roman domination, the city was subsequently governed by the Burgundians and later the Counts of Provence. It was ruled by the German emperor in the 11th century. It was the scene of religious wars when the Huguenots destroyed part of the city (1562) and of the execution of [the Marquis of] Cinq-Mars (1642) on the Place des Terreaux. In the 1789 French Revolution, Lyon resisted the [National] Convention after a siege of six months. The Revolutionary Tribune condemned 1,800 citizens of Lyon to death.12
Today the city is again passing through tragic days in its history. There are two million more persons in Lyon than stay in or even visit it in peacetime. It is filled with refugees and government employees attached to the administration in Vichy, which is only a thirty minute trip by plane from Lyon. In a way Lyon takes the place of Paris as a business center. It is somber, ugly, dirty, and ill-kept. La Place Bellecour,13 said to be one of the most beautiful places in Europe, is today arid, dusty, and desolate looking. My hotel is on the Place. We were successful in finding rooms here only after the Prefecture at the request of the American Consul requisitioned them; otherwise, we should be still hunting.
Every day more persons cross the line of demarcation of the occupied and unoccupied zones. Every day there are arrests of those who have attempted to come through illegally as the German authorities will give no further general exit permits. The Gestapo continually watches the populace in this supposedly free part of France.
No one dares to carry a letter across the marked line. No letters are allowed through; postcards may be posted.
The Germans, losing ground in Russia, are beginning the path that is leading toward their downfall….
In Paris the Nazis have placed machine guns on many of the buildings. They are on the Place de la Concorde, on the roof of the Chambre des Députés, and on the Hôtel de Crillon. Do they fear a general uprising?
The American Consulate in Lyon, France
September 26, 1941
And so I take up life in Lyon.14 In its greyness and drabness it is not conducive to inspiration. I make an effort to be more cheerful than I feel. However, the Consulate with our official family of United States citizens gives me something to hold on to. I work with people of my civilization, my countrymen. There is Mr. [Marshall M.] Vance, our Consul-General and chief; there is Dale Maher, Consul, with his delightful sense of humor; and Benji, Dale’s big, dignified boxer: Prince Benjamin Lichtenstein of Hungary. He is now “Mr.” Lichtenstein, as, belonging to an American, he has been naturalized and is not allowed to carry the title. As time went on, Dale lost weight; and we learned that he was keeping any meat or other food he ordered at a restaurant for Benji, while he ate very little. There is Clark Husted whom we call “Charley,” Vice-Consul, who had been educated at the University of Heidelberg that had left him with happy memories of Germany and the Germans; he was not at all happy with the French and counted the days when he would be sent to another country. There was also Lee Randall, Vice-Consul, young and very good looking; and Alice Soelberg, my nice traveling companion who is making every effort to join our staff in Vichy. The French members of the Consular staff have been in our government service for many years. They are helpful and are interested in this new contingent that has descended on them in their work.15
The restaurants are overcrowded. For any meal a table must be reserved. People are continually being turned away on Saturdays and Sundays. The American members of the staff of our Consulate meet every day at a restaurant called “Marie’s”16 where the food is good and where there is enough, although less than in ordinary times when Lyon was noted through France for the best cuisine in the country.
September 26, 1941
The mosquitoes in Lyon were numerous due to the lack of an adequate sewerage system. I was obliged to ask the hotel for netting for my bed. As for the sewerage system, one would think that with the great wealth of the Lyonnaise people this would be changed; one passes a beautiful house or apartment where the bad smell strikes one as far out as the street.
September 28, 1941
The Lyon Fair opened today.17 Maréchal Pétain arrived at the station early in the morning to be present at the ceremony of this great event that has been held each year for the past twenty-five years.
Tonight, I watched the parade of soldiers and cavalry marching to the music of two bands in honor of the Maréchal. There were several companies of young lads, some with no uniforms; others were in complete military dress, all carrying torches. Their faces were serious, and they seemed proud to be parading before the Maréchal. Crowds lined the sidewalks watching them. Rumour was about that there were difficulties recruiting any great number of French soldiers for an army under the Vichy government. Most of the men had gone with the Résistance; others had been deported by the Nazis to Germany; others were hiding. I stopped with the crowd on the edge of La Place Bellecour and waited to see the Maréchal pass. I did not wait long. With a great effort the band announced his coming. He rode swiftly by in his automobile to the applause of only a few. Then a silence followed; indifference was the attitude of that straggling crowd. Here was a great French General, a Maréchal of France, the hero of Verdun18 in the First World War, now Chief of State, who at one time had the applause and acclamations of multitudes of his countrymen. Today he passes through a city of France greeted by a few reluctant hurrahs….
What did the Maréchal think, I wondered? How did he feel? Was it true, as a Frenchman remarked, that he is now too old, his sensibilities are too dulled to realize the infelicitous change in incidents of this kind? I turned away, lost myself in the crowds, from what might have been a day of victory for the Maréchal.
I set off to explore the historic part of Lyon. The funiculaire took me to the Church of the Notre-Dame de Fourvière high up on the ruins of the ancient Roman forum built by Trajan. The interior, except for the mosaics, is not especially beautiful. Down underneath the basilica, however, are the old walls of Roman architecture sublime in their simplicity. Outside on the terrace I looked below where 10th, 11th, and 12th century houses are still standing. I wanted to enter those habitations where people of another age had lived and loved, were born, and had died. I raced down the steep ascent, ignoring the funiculaire, and reached the narrow streets of cobblestones and earth. The little Rue Saint-Jean has the same aspect, I am sure, that it had in those far-off times. Only the facades of some of the buildings had changed. Modern small cafés and food shops have replaced heavy doors and iron gates. I opened one great mediaeval door and entered. There I found a spiral stairway that had not been touched by the hand of man since it was built in the 12th century, or even before. The thick walls, the balconies built above interior courtyards, and the lights slanting from small windows across the corridors gave an atmosphere of that magnificent past of France of the Middle Ages. I could not believe it—it was entrancing.19
Quite near the evening bells of the Cathédrale of Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Lyon were calling the people to prayer as I went out again on to the street. I looked up at the towers. The gargoyles were bending over, laughing at the chaos, the turmoil of this stricken France. Night was coming quickly, hiding the remnants of the cold sunset that was fast disappearing. Had I indeed lived for a few moments in those centuries? Life was simple then; people lived by a simple faith. It was at a time when chivalry taught them to fear God, serve the King, protect the weak, speak the truth, never turn away from a friend, and shun unfairness, meanness, or deceit. There was then a habit of direct thought, a training of the intellect. It was the birth of that culture of France that has never been equaled by any other country in any other age….20
It is autumn now in Lyon. The leaves are only beginning to fall from the trees heavy with branches. I shall return to rue Saint-Jean some day in winter, and watch the snow fall in great flakes on the earthen road, and once again hear the bells of the church resounding as if through another age. And I will look to see its people plodding silently along toward the edifice to join their brothers in prayer.
October 5, 1941
Notices through the city of Lyon plastered on the walls read, “They count their crimes enveloped in the folds of our flag.”
Word from Paris reaches us: Hitler announces that Russia is defeated.21 Is the Führer dreaming? Are his “spirits” leading him astray?
The Résistance grows.22 Hundreds of French lads join the underground.
At the movies today a picture was shown of the Maréchal passing through Marseille and Toulouse where the applause was clamorous. On the other hand, during a drive for the benefit of the Boy Scouts, when a portrait of the Maréchal was being auctioned off by a speaker who told of the splendid work Pétain was doing for the country, there was indifferent silence. Only when the speaker shouted, “We need no foreigner to help us in our efforts at reestablishment. We can do it ourselves without help from outside. France will rise again. France is eternal!” The applause was loud and long.
Travel to Vichy on Official Business
October 12, 1941
I flew to Vichy yesterday. Thirty minutes in a plane brought me to the famous spa, now the seat of the French government.
I made my application for permission to travel to the authorities and presented a letter from the American Consul. It requested that I, a citizen of the United States and attached to the Consulate of the United States at Lyon, France, be allowed to go to the American Embassy at Vichy on business; that facilities to enable me to do so would be appreciated. The document is signed by the Consul and bears the red seal of the Consulate. At the ticket office I was requested to sign a paper stating that I was traveling to Vichy on official business; that I would not divulge the route the plane would take; that I would not talk about the present political situation.23
Vichy was quiet as I drove from the airport into the town. It was quiet and calm on the surface. There was nothing to tell me that underneath conspiracies, plots, and counterplots are going on: Hitler’s “new order” in Europe is being planned; fears by some that France may fight England; fears by others that France is about to make an accord with Germany. There was nothing to show that Hitler is losing faith in France as echoes of another kind of collaboration, Franco-American, is at work in the defense of North Africa; this defense is silently, secretly being prepared.
Official dinners and luncheons and others that are not official have their place in the life of Vichy. Mrs. Louis Biddle24 gave a dinner recently for the Maréchal whom she has known for many years. The Maréchal received her at dinner a week later.
A splendid sun flooded the town of Vichy as I took off for my return to Lyon. A happy memory was with me: that of the immense kindness of Penelope Royall25 of the Embassy staff who loaded me with food and in many ways eased the situation of scarcity of provisions in Lyon. So scarce were they that I appealed to my family in America. My sister, Mrs. John [Virginia] Harrison, in Philadelphia was immediate in her response and sent a large box of food products to me. I shall always be grateful to her….
October 14, 1941
When I landed in Lyon, I was welcomed by rain and fog which made the city look gloomy indeed. As a relief I turned to music. Last night in the Salle Rameau,26 Casadesus played to a crowded house.27 It was a beautiful program performed with his superb execution and deep feeling.
Notices on the billboards referring to victories of the Allies in North Africa have been torn from the walls of buildings. The radio announces Allied successes on the Russian front and the retreat of the German Army at several points. The feeling here is becoming stronger for an Allied victory.
At a movie recently an American speaker, after the world news, shouted to the Italians, “Come to my country. There you are free to eat spaghetti and macaroni.” And to the Germans, “In America you are free to drink your beer and eat switzer cheese. Come and see for yourselves.” “The Star-Spangled Banner” was played followed by long and overwhelming applause. As I left the theater with the crowd, I heard a voice near me say (in English), “Well, I’ll be d…!” To think that today someone on the screen in a movie in France is permitted to voice such sentiments is beyond belief.
Support for U.S. Foreign Service in France from America
October 24, 1941
At my hairdresser’s shop I must bring my own soap and hairpins; soap is non-existent in Lyon. Mine comes from Paris where such articles were sent to our commissary for the Embassy staff from America.
The newspapers, Gazette de Lausanne28 and Tribune de Genève,29 from Switzerland reach us here giving us details of world news, which includes activities in North America and on the Russian front. It looks worse every day for the Axis Powers….
There is news from “Ivan the Terrible”30 on the radio coming from Russia via the British broadcast. Imitating the throaty voice of Hitler, the speaker called out, “So long as I am the German leader, I will lead you from victory to victory—to the final catastrophe. I will lead the Army to the last German.”
From one of the French generals,31 as quoted in Time Magazine, “I have no confidence in the generosity of our conqueror. I not only hope but expect a British victory. Moreover, I share this opinion with the majority of my fellow citizens whether in the free zone or occupied zone.” The general was the appointed delegate to the German Army of Occupation. He did not like the job and was removed. He was subsequently thrown into jail by Darlan.32
Operas, concerts, and theatres have started the winter season. They lift one’s morale; they give cheer to the somber days of this interminable year of 1941. I often wonder if it will go on forever, if I shall remain in the city of Lyon for the remainder of my official life. Over the week I attend the opera and theaters; over the weekend it is difficult to leave the city on Saturday and Sunday because of the scarcity of trains that are overcrowded. And, too, there is the impossibility of finding rooms. I must await the spring days to go to Grenoble, Avignon, Grasse, and Nice.33
November 9, 1941
The cold is penetrating. In my hotel room the long French windows will not close. The cold winds enter. When I awake, I take a seemingly long trip, walking very quickly into my bathroom where the hot water warms me, and then back again into bed before making the great effort to dress in the icy room….
A prison inspector said French prisoners are low in spirits. They feel that they are forgotten. The defeat of their country touched them very deeply. On the other hand, the British soldier is convinced of victory; his spirit is high….
A German colonel was shot in Nantes a few weeks ago. Fifty hostages were arrested by the conquerors and shot.34 The sleepless, desperate work of the French underground brings bitter, cruel reprisals by the Nazis.
Lyon is filling up with more Nazis. The German Armistice Commission, the German Consulate with fifty employees, the German Red Cross, and other German organizations are being installed.35 A French Military Mission36 has arrived today at my hotel.
In Paris notices are placed on the doors of the French hospitals and on the building of the Faculté de Médecine stating that volunteers amongst the physicians are requested to go to Germany to care for the wounded of the German Army as well as the civilians. The notice stated further that if they would not accept, they would be requisitioned. My informer said that, as far as he knew, there was no response to this appeal.
The intense British bombing of the Ruhr37 and other districts is so great that the electricity has been destroyed. The Nazis have told the French Government they must send supplies to Germany. Are all the supplies of the vaunted well-provisioned German military machine disappearing?
November 10, 1941
“Life is in ourselves and,” writes Dostoevsky, “not in the external.”38
Tonight, I feel very much alone. My traveling companion, who has had her room in the same hotel I am occupying since our arrival, has received her orders to go to the U.S. Embassy in Vichy. I am glad for her as she has wanted this for many weeks. As for me, I must cling to this Life Principle within me, which is in every man, and which will lead me on as I await the direction of destiny. I am swaying on the branches of events; I am on a journey in the midst of war….
November 16, 1941
The Maréchal’s portrait is in every shop in Lyon. It hangs high in every restaurant, in every café. Hitler, who believes thus in the need of worshipping an idol, sees with his eyes of a German. Will Germany ever understand the soul of the French?
Tonight over the radio Germany calls for a million men from Italy to help her on the Russian front. They will do her no good. She is destroying herself; hatred bears within itself the seeds of its own destruction.
Food is becoming scarcer and poorer in quality. The result is that diseases are prevalent. There are 4,000 cases of a skin disease in Paris; 400 to 600 cases of the skin disease enter the hospitals of Lyon. Undernourishment causes the skin disease; depression and contagion cause the various other illnesses.
I had luncheon with Maître Marcel de Gallaix39 and his colleague Maître T. They are lawyers in a rising young law firm in Paris. The former is married to an American friend of mine,40 and I have known them for many years. His colleague has brought his young daughter, twenty years of age, into Lyon for a change of scene; she has just left a concentration camp where she was incarcerated for sticking her tongue out at a German officer.
November 29, 1941
Over the radio: Retreat of the German Army from Rostov.41 Russian successes are stopping the German advance. “Let us resist until death—not one step back,” cry the Russians. “We must be and shall be victorious.”
The Allies and the Axis powers are fighting for mastery in North Africa….
December 4, 1941
Quite near to this hotel where I am staying is a movie house, one of the most important in Lyon. I have been puzzled lately when passing it to find crowds lined along the street waiting to see the picture. Recently, however, the crowds have disappeared and only a few moviegoers have entered the building. Deciding to see for myself, I passed through the doors into the darkness of the hall. The picture was entitled Marie Stuart42 and was the story of that beautiful, unfortunate Queen of Scotland when Elizabeth reigned over England. There were few people watching the picture. The scenery of those days in cold, gloomy Scotland was admirably portrayed. It was soon brought to my consciousness, however, that it was a Nazi film given in the French language. The story, instead of depicting the true facts of that unhappy life of Marie Stuart, was a caricature of the different personalities: the Queen herself, Lord Darnley, and Lord Bothwell. It portrayed the British women as prostitutes—even the Queen did not escape. It showed Englishmen as weaklings, tricksters, and mountebanks. It ceased to be interesting before very long and I left quickly. The French were indeed not fooled by the picture; it was considered a complete failure financially, for soon no one went in to see it, and it was soon changed.
December 5, 1941
American and Japanese negotiations are going on, so we learned by the radio. We are sitting on an inflammable mountain. Is Japan plotting a war with our country? Why? But some of her representatives in Washington and in Spain are professing friendship for us….
Pearl Harbor
December 7, 1941
It must have been late this evening that I heard the news. Turning on the radio there was a not too clear announcement about Pearl Harbor, our naval base in the Hawaiian Islands. I soon understood that it had been attacked by the Japanese fleet with no warning; it was a brutal, dastardly assault.
It is late, after midnight. I must wait hours before I may go down to the Consulate to join my people and be with them in this overwhelming catastrophe.
America attacked! My own people, hundreds of them sent to a sudden death. I am unable to sleep. Will morning never come?
December 8, 1941
I reached the Consulate earlier than usual. I forget everything except that the United States has been attacked. France has held and still holds my love and loyalty, but it has taken second place in my thoughts. This onslaught against my country of birth seemed almost to be aimed at me, at a part of me that is America. I am America. It is my being and that which makes me who I am, steeped as I am in the very soil of our land, in its traditions and in its history. Now it is in danger….
The United States and Britain declare the existence of a state of war with Germany….
Congress declares war on Japan….43
December 11, 1941
Germany and Italy declare war on the United States.44 The radio was silent after this announcement. I was waiting for more news when a knock at my door changed the trend of my thought. Opening it, I came face to face with the French Inspector of Police: “Carte d’Identité, s’il vous plaît.” The order was curt. I asked him to wait a moment; I threw on a dressing gown, found the card, and at the door showed it to him. It shows, naturally, that I am a citizen of the United States and attached to the American Consulate in Lyon. The inspector obviously had not expected to be handed a diplomatic document. He read the printing on my card: “Government of the United States,” he said almost to himself. His “tiens! ” (which means—hello! look at this!) was eloquent, for he gave me a special salute and left. He was looking for someone of questionable activities, I was certain. Indeed, the city is full of such; the police are on the alert, and there is the desperate effort on the part of the hunted to hide and escape.
The United States declares war on Germany and Italy. Echoes of the impact of the news in the United States filter in. Our nation is united in a tremendous war effort. Our magnificent strength as a people and our inexhaustible supplies of materials, munitions, and industries are being mustered into action. The spirit of our faith is being held aloft.
We of the Foreign Service are carrying on abroad.45 What different or even greater work shall be ours? What will be its nature? Where shall it have its place?
The time is becoming short for preparation. Meanwhile United States passports are being stamped for travel to the United States by any route available for those Americans who still must leave France. Telephone messages are continually coming in to the Consulate with enquiries for instructions. Americans being arrested attempting to cross from the occupied to the unoccupied zone without permits seek help from the Consulate….
An American journalist coming from Paris told me that French morale rose higher as America entered the war. Outside of the government in Vichy, every French man, woman, and child was behind the United States.
December 12, 1941
Japan occupies the island of Guam….46
A few days ago, in response to Japan’s attack on the United States, Mr. Churchill said over the radio, “When we think of the insane ambition and insatiable appetite, which have caused this vast, melancholy extension of the war, we can only feel that Hitler’s madness has infected the Japanese minds…In the past we had a light which flickered, in the present we have a light which flames, and in the future there will be a light which will shine calm and resplendent over all the land and all the sea!”47 The great Prime Minister of England lifts us up to victory….
December 13, 1941
From Paris the news reaches us of the reprisals of the Nazi authorities following the shooting of a Nazi officer in Paris at the end of last week. The Résistance is using desperate methods. The French were given until December 8 to find the culprit and to denounce him. To the glory of the patriots of France, not one citizen spoke. As a reprisal, the blackout began at 5:30 p.m. No one in the city was prepared for it; no one had arranged his life to meet the situation. Those living in the country left their offices or work at 4:30 p.m. to reach overcrowded subways. Schools were opened for only a half day: for the girls in the morning, for the boys in the early afternoon. Every shop in Paris closed suddenly at 5:00 p.m. At 6:00 p.m. a silence spread over the city. But not one French man, woman, or child opened his mouth concerning the culprit of the shooting of a Nazi officer….
Britain is successful in Libya: the British held off the siege of Tobruk,48 the radio reported. The German General Rommel49 retreats….
Dramatic Exit from Paris
December 17, 1941
Russell Porter, the well-known American lawyer in Paris, risked the dangerous crossing of the marked zone without a permit and appeared at the Consulate today. I had luncheon with him; he told me of his dramatic exit from Paris.50 After Pearl Harbor he felt that it would be wise to leave occupied France. He left his apartment in Paris at night, motored almost to the zone of demarcation, then walked for miles and miles through the night. He reached a house in the wilderness through which he was walking. Seeing a light, he knocked at the door not knowing whether a German or Frenchman would open it for him. The days are dangerous and the nights hide unexpected occurrences on one’s path. The risk, however, must be taken….
A young boy about 15 years of age at the door looked at him enquiringly. “I am an American citizen,” said Mr. Porter. “I am on my way to Lyon but have lost the right road. Would you indicate the path to the highway?”
The lad beamed! This was no German, Porter decided. The boy asked him in, but our compatriot wished to be on his way. It was not yet dark, and the young French lad led him through byways and narrow lanes until at the highway he indicated the signal showing the way to Lyon. Mr. Porter wished to give the boy some money, but he refused it….
“Merci! ” he said. “But, Monsieur, I am happy to have been of aid to an American. If some day you remember, would you send me a postcard from the United States showing that during the war I had helped an American to escape from the Nazis? I should keep it always as a souvenir of this meeting.”
Many other Americans coming into Lyon have had similar experiences. They come through continually; other nationals arrive. The city becomes more crowded as the times under the watchful eye of the Nazis, if not under their complete control, grow tenser.
Many Jews already in the city are forced out of the hotels; in Lyon there is a lack of food, a lack of rooms, or no place to spend the night. There is sadness and fear and loneliness. Nerves are unstrung by the bitter experiences so many have passed through. The Consulate is doing everything to help financially and otherwise; we, personally, give what we can to these unfortunate people….
It is cold and the rain beats against my window as I write. All is still in the hotel, but underneath the quiet surface one knows that stirring, tragic events take place continually. This atmosphere of apprehension surged through me so vividly that I was obliged to go out on to the street. I wandered to a movie—any movie to force my mind away from the moment.
I cannot sleep. I take up my Bible lying on my table and find the story of Elijah who fled in his discouragement from his own work. Life had become too difficult for him to bear, so he had taken refuge under the juniper tree. Up on the mountain where wind, earthquake, and fire passed before him, he heard the still, small voice of the Spirit….51
I tightened my armour after that and went to sleep.
December 18, 1941
Orders came this morning for me to proceed to Vichy as soon as possible….
Assignment to U.S. Legation in Bern, Switzerland
December 22, 1941
Orders changed. I must be ready within twenty-four hours to travel to Switzerland to our Legation in Bern.52
This keeping one step ahead of Hitler is trying the nerves of everyone. It would attack my optimism were it not for the prospect of this sudden change. I begin a new life….
December 23, 1941
My departure is delayed until the 26th.
A notice at the desk of my hotel announces that every Jew in the building must leave before the end of the month.
The radio announces the occupation of the Wake Islands in the Pacific by the Japanese, which is a victory for the Japanese, so far….53
December 25, 1941
Christmas bells ring for “peace on earth.” There is no peace today; there is little joy….
But there is a light ahead! For me it becomes brighter as I turn toward Switzerland to take up the struggle there: for France, for England, for my own land, and for free peoples throughout the world.
For France, too, the light is there as this long, tragic year of 1941 draws to a close, and 1942 opens in expectancy of a change in the march of events. In North Africa the Allies go on from strength to strength….
December 26, 1941
The news that the victorious Japanese have taken Hong Kong54 reached me as the automobile in which I traveled with Clark Husted,55 one of our vice-consuls also assigned to the Legation in Bern, moved slowly away from Lyon, France.
This beautiful France that I love! I may not remain with her in her sorrow, and today I am not permitted to walk with her in her own land; but where I am going, I shall be working with her. And after the dark shadows shall have left, I shall return. For neither German nor Nazi nor any enemy or any evil thing can destroy that undying spirit of France. Could it speak, it might say in the words of a great writer:56
Nature, whose sweet rains fall on unjust and just alike, will have clefts in the rocks where I may hide, and secret valleys in whose silence I may weep undisturbed. She will hang the night with stars so that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling, and send the wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt: she will cleanse me in great waters, and with bitter herbs make me whole.°
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° De Profundis. Oscar Wilde.