The Greatest Escape: How one French community saved thousands of lives from the Nazis - A Good Place to Hide (32 page)

Fayol knew there was only one open route north towards Saint-Étienne out of Le Puy. All other roads were blocked by the Resistance, as was the railway line. The Germans would have to take a narrow departmental road, the D906, through Bellevue-la-Montagne, then probably turn right onto the even narrower and twisting D498 through the mountains to Saint-Étienne. The Resistance set off in a convoy of no fewer than 54 vehicles to set up an ambush. They chose Saint-Geneys,
a village on the road north out of Le Puy, about six kilometres short of Bellevue-la-Montagne. Any German convoy setting off for Bellevue would necessarily pass through Saint-Geneys.

The terrain suited Fayol well. Just beyond the northern exit from the village, there was flat land leading to a forest on one side of the road, while on the other side the land was steep but covered with grass. Fayol placed the Y1 Company from Yssingeaux on the edge of the forest, and his own Section on top of the grassy hill. There they waited. Nothing came. After a long wait, one of the officers sent a motorcyclist to scout the village and report. Ominously, the motorcyclist did not return.

Fayol decided to take a look for himself. Two front-wheel-drive Citroëns set off towards the village, with Fayol in the lead. In the car with Fayol was a Dr Grunefeld, who had insisted that he wanted to take part in a military operation. The second car was occupied by three officers, Captain Hulot, Lieutenant Kaufman and Lieutenant Gaudelette. At the edge of the village they came under heavy fire from machine guns and rifles. It is impossible to know whether the fire was coming from the advance party sent off by Schmähling to clear the route as far as Bellevue-la-Montagne, or the main convoy itself, though from other testimony about timing it seems certain that it was the advance party. Either way, Fayol was in trouble. His car was hit. The occupants of both cars decided to make a break for it. Fayol continues:

When we got out of the car, we were greeted by bursts of machine-gun fire. Dr Grunefeld and I were able to escape to the left of the road. My only thought was to get back to my Section, but this meant crossing 800 metres of steep open fields, keeping well to the left to stay out of the field of fire. I could hear bullets whistling all around me. When I turned round, I  saw Dr Grunefeld lying flat in the grass. I thought I’d never see him again. The people in the second car took off on foot in the direction of the small wood very close to
the other side of the road. In that short distance, Gaudelette was killed and Hulot wounded.

When I got back to the Section, the first person to welcome me was Abbé Volin, in full uniform. ‘Ah, it’s you,’ he said to me. ‘I didn’t know who it was, but I thought: this one’s still standing.’ I told my Section to open fire again. We had M16 rifles and a Remington light machine gun, and we were able to block the convoy for quite a long time. Then they started firing mortars at us, and they were getting a bit too accurate! So I gave the order to pull back. When it was all over, the Germans had to slow right down, with forward scouts and flank guards in position while they moved. That was the moment we started harassment operations to sap the morale of the German troops.

A few days later, Dr Grunefeld reappeared amongst us, hale and hearty. On the day of the battle, he was the only one wearing civilian clothes. He told us he had lain down in the grass and pretended that he had been taken by surprise by all the shooting. A French lorry driver picked him up and brought him to safety.

Major Schmähling kept a diary, so it is possible to see these events from the German point of view also. According to his journal, the night of 17 August had been a busy one in Le Puy. Files had to be destroyed. Various tradesmen and shopkeepers kept arriving at the barracks, demanding to be paid. There was also the ‘heavy responsibility’, as he put it, of taking with them all the civilians who had been placed under German protection. This was largely a euphemism for the various Vichy French
miliciens
and their families, who tagged along with the Germans because they could expect swift retribution from the maquisards if they stayed. At midday on 18 August, Schmähling informed the prefect of the Haute-Loire, André Bousquet, that they were leaving. However, there were more delays and the convoy did
not get away until 6 pm. When it set off, the convoy was several kilometres long.

There were more interruptions on the way. Vehicles broke down. Some of the convoy appeared to be stuck back in Le Puy, but a scout sent back to find out what was happening did not return. By 9 pm it was getting dark. Schmähling ordered the convoy to stop for the night. In three hours, they had advanced only a miserable five kilometres from Le Puy. Schmähling’s diary records their discomfort.

18 August: It was impossible to pass the night in peace. We continually heard explosions, machine-gun fire, and grenades going off.

19 August: Daylight finally came, bringing a morning of bright sunshine. If the situation had not been so serious, it might have been possible to enjoy this adventure. The men and women, still a bit drowsy, got out of their cars. Mothers fed their children. The soldiers had their breakfast by the side of the road. It seemed peaceful everywhere. When the sun started to warm us up, our unscheduled halt didn’t seem too bad. We were still there at eleven o’clock, waiting for Coelle and his Russians to join us. Then Lieutenant Heitz arrived. We had sent him to Le Puy to take a look around. He told us what had happened to Coelle: the Russians announced that they had had enough of the sound of guns. They weren’t moving. The barracks was probably now in the hands of the Resistance. At this point Colonel Metger gave the order to advance.

By the time they had reached Saint-Paulien, five kilometres short of Saint-Geneys, Schmähling’s car began to overheat. They kept moving, slowly. Two kilometres further on, they stopped again. The cars were overloaded. Metger ordered Schmähling to continue with his men on foot. They set off. Every time the column halted, Schmähling had
to run 500 metres to the front to see what was going on. When they got close to Bellevue-la-Montagne, they came under fire for the first time. That led to a delay of an hour. By four in the afternoon they made it to the approach to the village of Estables, a few kilometres north of Bellevue-la-Montagne. They were attacked again, and again the column halted.

Schmähling was now ordered to clear his way through the village. He had a few Russians with him, and he chose them to support him. This didn’t work out well: the Russians refused to attack, and instead fired their guns aimlessly in the air. Schmähling picked twenty German troops and tried again. They were continuously under fire, without being able to see the enemy. They moved ahead in stages. Schmähling saw the first of his German soldiers fall, screaming, a few steps ahead of him. The soldier had been shot in the stomach and died quickly. They continued as far as the first house in the village, which was taking heavy fire. In the village itself, they linked up with a second group of Germans. Schmähling wrote later: ‘I surprised myself with what I could do!’

Meanwhile, Colonel Metger had managed to force the attacking maquisards back. The guns fell silent. Metger ordered the vehicles to reassemble in the village. Everyone should try to get some sleep, he said, while sentries kept the enemy away.

20 August: The day dawned bright and sunny. The village seemed completely dead. Not even a cat appeared on the street. The population had left because of yesterday’s fighting.

The convoy prepared to move off, but progress was far from smooth. The vehicles continued to break down, and the convoy did not get moving until around 10 am. When they finally reached the next village, they were told that the road ahead was blocked. The maquis
had blown up one of the bridges. The convoy crawled forward, not knowing how far it could continue.

In the evening we arrived at a village. A peasant complained that his only horse had been requisitioned without any compensation. I promised him I’d do something.

In a house near Usson the Russians smashed all the furniture. The owner complained that a German had taken the only water bucket he owned. Although I was exhausted, I  tried to find the bucket, but no luck.

Progress was equally slow the next day, 21 August. Schmähling decided to reduce the loads on the vehicles in the hope that they would stop overheating. As a fine example of the surreal nature of the journey, the Germans wrapped up non-essential supplies in parcels and took them to the nearest post office, where they posted them on to themselves. There were 200 parcels in all.

It was 11 am when we finally got away. A few kilometres further on, we stopped again. Our troops needed to repair a bridge destroyed during the night by the enemy. The maquisards did not let up: they fired at the troops working on the bridge. All day we tried to respond. The road towards Estivareilles [eight kilometres after Usson] was under constant fire. Our column was now completely encircled.

We were stuck. I had taken the Estivareilles road twice in the past, so I knew that without the bridge we could not move forward. The Resistance had us trapped.

• • •

After the ambush at Saint-Geneys, Pierre Fayol returned with his men to the command post at the Château de Vaux, not far from Yssingeaux,
to await new orders. Next day, 19 August, he discussed the situation with Captain Perre from the Lafayette group of the Resistance. Perre told him they had already attacked the German barracks in Le Puy, but his small group was on its own and it had proved too much for them. Could Fayol help? Fayol was willing, but he was still awaiting orders.

However, André Gévolde, one of the senior Resistance figures, returned soon after from Estivareilles to announce that the fight to the northwest was practically over. Fayol was free to take whatever action he thought fit.

Fayol quickly assembled his troops and headed for Le Puy to join the Lafayette group. It did not take him long to realise that the position of the remaining German troops—mostly Russians anyway, and all of them trapped inside Le Puy’s Romeuf barracks—was hopeless. He decided to head down to the prefecture to see what was happening there. He wandered around the deserted corridors until he found the prefect’s office, and installed himself in the prefect’s chair.

He did not have to wait long. A group of Germans arrived in the form of a delegation. Fayol received them in the office, flanked by Commander Montagnon from the André network of the Resistance and two officers from the Lafayette group. The Germans had a request. Would Fayol agree to a ceasefire while they collected their wounded? Fayol wasn’t having it. The Germans had fifteen minutes to surrender unconditionally, or face the consequences. Fayol assured them that they would be treated as prisoners of war in accordance with the Geneva Rules.

On the button of fifteen minutes, Captain Coelle, accompanied by a French-speaking German nun, Sister Elze Pelse, emerged from the barracks and surrendered on behalf of his remaining troops. The Resistance now had 170 prisoners of war: seven German officers and 163 other soldiers. They also had their guns, and their ammunition. With Schmähling’s column now camped in the neighbouring French
department of the Loire, the whole of the Haute-Loire was officially in Resistance hands.

• • •

Major Schmähling, still stuck on the Estivareilles road, had no difficulty assessing his position. There was no way out. He sent a messenger to Colonel Metger to tell him that a maquisard prisoner had assured them that if they surrendered they would be treated properly in accordance with the rules of war. At 7 pm Metger asked Schmähling to join him to discuss the situation with a French Member of Parliament who had arrived on the scene. The Frenchman was accompanied by Sister Elze Pelse, who could act as interpreter and who could also vouch for the facts. The Frenchman informed them that Captain Coelle had been taken prisoner in Le Puy, and that he and his soldiers had been correctly treated. The Frenchman offered them a time and place to meet to discuss their surrender.

The Germans had a serious problem. Clearly they would be correctly treated themselves, but what about the ‘civilians’ in the convoy? These were mostly French Milice and their families, and there was little love lost between the Milice and the Resistance. Might the maquisards want to settle a few old scores? That would have to be discussed as part of any surrender deal. ‘Half an hour later,’ continues Schmähling,

Colonel Metger and Captain Neukirchen
⁵⁵
went with me to a farmhouse, where we found a captain and some officers. The captain explained the situation very kindly, humanely and sensibly: all the hills around us were occupied. It would be impossible for us to get out of the valley. Some 1200 men were ready to attack our column. He was well informed about our situation: we could not count on the morale of the Russians, and we had civilian women and children with us, as well as the sick.

Colonel Metger asked for time to think it over—until ten o’clock the next morning. The Frenchman insisted: for a reason which he was not able to give us, serious consequences would follow if the surrender was not completed by eleven o’clock that night. The implication was clear: they would use bomber aircraft against us.

Our principal condition was that they should treat the civilians, the miliciens and their families, and the men and women who had put their faith in us, in the same way that they treated us. We asked that they would not hold it against the miliciens in general and they would take action against only miliciens who had committed acts that were against the law, and that this would be judged by a proper court.

The French captain agreed, and offered to send the miliciens to Montbrison, where the atmosphere was calmer.

Metger asked for a little more time, until eleven thirty, so that he could talk to his officers and the civilians. The French agreed. The German officers now sat down to assess their situation. They had a mere 80 combat-ready German soldiers, and most of these were needed to drive the vehicles. True, they also had some Russians, but they were likely to refuse to fight. They had twenty badly wounded German soldiers, a further twenty seriously ill Russians, plus 50 women and children to protect. They also had precious medical supplies like X-ray machines, surgical instruments and medicines, which they were reluctant to abandon. It was theoretically possible for the 80 fit Germans to try to make a break for it, but with 1200 maquisards raining fire down on them, the odds did not look good.