25th February 2011. Regular readers of this blog will be aware of my interest in the WWII escape network known as the Comet Line (mentioned before here). It was set up in 1941 by Andrée De Jongh, a 24 year old Belgian woman, with the aim of repatriating Allied aircrew shot down in the Low Countries by passing them from Brussels down through occupied France to the Basque country, over the Pyrenees, across into 'neutral' Spain and back to Britain via Gibraltar. Theyachieved miracles, returning some 320-odd airmen (out of a total of ~800 others) via the Pays Basque to Britain. The Comet Line helpers paid a high price for this - 286 were shot or otherwise killed.
An annual commemorative weekend (this year it's 9-11th September) is held here in the Basque country (as well as in other locations) and, over 2 days, participants retrace the same route taken by the escapees from Ciboure (set on the bay of St Jean de Luz) up and over the Pyrenees to Renteria in Spain. Last year, I had the honour of meeting Andrée Dumon aka "Nadine" and Bob Frost (story here in English & French) - both of whom appear in the videos below. It's difficult to reconcile the image of the charming, sparkling lady in her nineties of today with the grim reality of what happened to her. As for Bob, he's a very modest hero and a real gentleman with clearly the utmost respect for "Dédée" and the other helpers. As he says, if civilians were caught by the Germans giving aid to shot down airmen, they could expect the severest of punishments. Men were shot, women were sent to concentration camps in Germany - usually under the powers of the infamous Nacht und Nebel decree. Bob says that, in those circumstances, only exceptional people were prepared to take that risk. He then goes on to say that of that group of exceptional people, "Dedée" De Jongh was herself exceptional. That says it all. This year sees the 70th anniversary of the first successful "home run" by an RAF escaper.
26th February 2011. Did 14km this morning in a coxless quad sculler that felt as though it was crewed by four total strangers. This often happens at the start of a sortie but things generally sort themselves out after a few km. Not this morning though. Made for an uncomfortable few hours. (Running total: 448km)
The general consensus from the rugby fans at the club (which is just about all of them!) about this evening's Le Crunch was that England were going to win by some margin. However, you never quite know with France - if they get the bit between their teeth, they're capable of anything. I'm still going for an England win but it's all set to be a fascinating contest both between the two sets of forwards and the talented backs. Let's just hope we get to watch a great game of rugby.
Just watched the anthems at the beginning of the Italy v Wales, I had to laugh at the singing of the Italian anthem. The crowd, the band and the players all set off at the same time and then it was a straight race to the finish! And I'm not sure who won! Very likeable people the Italians with an enviable way of life.
14th September 2010. I'm back home after a truly amazing weekend spent in the company of some of the most inspirational people I've ever met. A short recap follows in case you missed my earlier posts on the subject of the Comet Line. (* = tongue in cheek!)
"Dédée"
In the wake of the German blitzkreig that smashedthroughthe defences of Holland, Belgium, France in May-June 1940 and forced the evacuation from Dunkirk of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF), Andrée De Jongh, a young Belgian nurse, decided that she had to do something to help the Allied cause. As she herself put it in typically uncompromising fashion:
"When war was declared I knew what needed to be done. There was no hesitation. We could not stop what we had to do although we knew the cost. Even if it was at the expense of our lives, we had to fight until the last breath." Inspired to action by the deeds of Edith Cavell, "Dédée", as Andrée was better known, created the Comet Line, the purpose of which was to guide shot-down Allied airmen back to the UK to continue fight the war. Its motto was "Pugna Quin Percutias" ("Fight without killing"). The Comet Line comprised some 2,000 dedicated volunteer helpers and a chain of safe houses that stretched from Brussels to Paris and on down through occupied France to Bayonne in the Basque country. Unlike the aircrew who were protected by the provisions of the Geneva Convention, the volunteer helpers enjoyed no such protection and, if/when caught, they and their families fell into the medieval clutches of the Gestapo - followed by the concentration camps under Hitler's infamous Nacht und Nebel directive.
Florentino
Having escorted her small groups of evaders on the express train from Paris to Bayonne, she would join up with the legendary Basque guide Florentino Goikoetxea and together they would lead the airmen over the Pyrenees and into the hands of British diplomatic staff based in 'neutral' Spain. Hundreds of Allied airmen and others were helped by the Comet Line network to escape a bleak future confined in POW camps in the Third Reich.
Florentino was a smuggler by trade and after the war he was invited to Buckingham Palace to receive the King's Medal. While Florentino was waiting to go in to the room where the King was making the presentations, a courtier asked him what his profession was and Florentino replied without a pause, "Import - Export". A man of immense strength, he was not averse to pulling a knife on escapers to 'encourage' them if they said they couldn't take another step forward. Bob Frost (below) recalled how he fell into a hole at night during his escape and Florentino just reached down and pulled him out with one hand.
After a betrayal in January 1943, "Dédée" was arrested, interrogated, tortured and then sent to Germany where she spent 2 years in Ravensbruck and then Mauthausen. She survived the war and spent some 28 years working in leper hospitals in pre-independence Belgian Congo, Cameroon, Addis Ababa in Ethiopia, and finally Senegal. In failing health, she eventually retired to Brussels where she died in 2007 aged 90.
I ask for your understanding for this necessarily abbreviated version of historical events and if I've omitted to mention someone - as I surely must have - I apologise.
The Comet Line is commemorated in many ways - one of which is an annual 'walk' over the exact same route out of France, over the mountains and into Spain and eventual freedom taken by the Comet guides and the evaders. It's organised locally by Jean Dassié.
Prior to the weekend, I'd contacted John Clinch, whose excellent website contains a whole slew of information about the Comet Line and the resistance in Belgium (highly recommended) and we'd arranged to meet at a café in the centre of Saint Jean de Luz on Friday in good time before the first meeting. This was to be a wreath laying at the War Memorial in St Jean de Luz followed by a vin d'honneur at the Town Hall just nearby. We were fortunate to be joined by a wartime Comet helper and three aircrew veterans who'd come down the Line and made it back to the UK.
The veterans
"Nadine"
Here we are at the War Memorial with 3 RAF evaders - from left to right: Bob Frost(Wellington tailgunner) shot down on his 28th mission; George Duffee(Halifax pilot) shot down on his first trip as 2nd Dickey; Andrée Dumont (English translation here) - known by her wartime codename "Nadine" - she courier'd the aircrew from Brussels to Paris. Captured & tortured, sent first to Ravensbruck then to the infamous Mauthausen. Received the OBE in 1946. A real heroine! Gordon Mellor(Halifax navigator) - shot down on his 17th trip. Next is a deputy mayor from St Jean de Luz. Raymond from Rheims (on the extreme right) was in the Resistance and was deported and jailed. He spent a few years in a cell with a couple of RAF aircrew - where he learnt his English.. I felt honoured and privileged to meet all of these Comet helpers and WWII aircrew over the course of the weekend.
Ramiro Arrue painting in the town hall at St Jean de Luz
Mr Jean Dassié †
Lucienne Dassié †
(devenue
Mme André Saboulard)
After a friendly welcome at the Town Hall where, incidentally, one of our hosts was kind enough to show Nadine and I three magnificent works (one of which above) by the noted Basque artist Ramiro Arrue - we all separated for lunch before travelling up to Bayonne for another wreath-laying ceremony at the grave of the Dassié family. Both Mr and Madame Dassié actively supported the Comet Line along with their daughter Lucienne (aka "Lulu"). However, all three were betrayed and they were arrested by the Gestapo and spent two years in Buchenwald and Ravensbruck respectively. The Germans left young Jean, aged 7, at home on his own.. After the father was released in 1945 he was repatriated to Paris but he died in hospital on the day that he arrived from the ill-treatment he had received in the camps. Madame Dassié died in 1948 due to ill-health resulting from her experiences in the camps. Both "Lulu" and Jean were present for this commemorative weekend.
As it is today*
Then we continued on to nearby Anglet to visit the unassuming Villa Voisin - the safe house where many of the escaping airmen stayed (5 mins from where I write) and where the southern end of the network was controlled by Elvire de Greef (aka "Tante Go"). It doesn't appear to have changed too much - if at all. We then made our way to the War Memorial in Anglet for a further wreath laying there followed by a vin d'honneur in the Town Hall.. Then we all sped off to a local restaurant for the evening. There must have been between 50-60 of us altogether.
* Edited to add: Sadly, the Villa Voisin was demolished in 2016.
Kattalin Aguirre
At Florentino's grave
The next morning saw the start of the hard work. I arrived early at St Jean de Luz (in the hope of finding a parking space) and walked around the beautiful bay to the cemetery at Ciboure where there was another wreath laying ceremony at the graves of two of Comète's most celebrated members - Kattalin Aguirre and Florentino Goikoetxea, the Basque man of the mountains.
On the Saturday, the group split into two - the walkers and those who would travel between RVs by bus.. After breakfast at a beachside cafe nearby, the walkers set off for Urrugne which is where we were going to have lunch.. (provided by the commune) For us, we were glad to be finally moving and it only took us an hour or so to reach Urrugne, a small village en route to the mountains. After a short ceremony by the War Memorial, we walked the short distance down to a local school where a copious lunch of ham, cheese, fruit, bread, cider and wine had been set up in the sunshine. I broke the habit of a lifetime for once and ate sparingly and kept to water.
Bidegain Berri
Then we set off for the mountains.. although there was one final final stop at "Bidegain Berri", the farm in the foothills that was used by the escapers as the jumping-off point and where Dédée was arrested in January '43. This was the farmhouse belonging to brave Frantxia Usandizaga, who sheltered the airmen in the last safe house in France as they waited for nightfall before attempting to cross the mountains. She was betrayed, along with Dédée De Jongh, but unlike her, she didn't return and sadly she died in Ravensbruck a month before the camp was liberated. The house itself had been modernised and appeared anonymous, bearing no witness to the dramatic events that had taken place there so many years before. Yet again we heard speeches extolling the bravery of those who had given their lives in the cause of freedom.
This was the start of the walk proper, and it was time for anyone who could not complete it to get on the coach, as there would be no way back. This is where the pain started.. We set off briskly and gradually the road turned into gravel and grass, then we turned up a steep track that was loosely surfaced and then we were on the mountain. It was difficult to set a rhythm when part of a long snake of other climbers stopping and starting on a crumbly, sometimes muddy, slippy underfoot, uneven, steep rocky surface. It was hot too - according to a fellow walker with a multi-function watch it was 35°C (95°F). And it was humid.. All attempts at conversation ceased now as we tried individually to find our own pace. Each time I reached what I thought was a summit, the mountain opened up to reveal another even steeper climb before me.
My legs became heavier and heavier, I was stumbling, sweat was pouring off me and I could feel my climbing ability reducing with every step. I stopped now and again to ease the burning in my legs but there was no respite from the sun which beat down on us. I did start to think the unthinkable (i.e. going back..). I thought my rowing training would have stood me in good stead but the magnitude of the effort required for this took me by surprise. I thought it would be hard but I just couldn't see myself being able to finish this. I decided not to look ahead and to take it one step at a time. Even then I had to stop every few yards. Luckily some kind soul (I never did catch his name*) stopped with me each time and after a few seconds rest, encouraged me to my feet with an "Allez allez!" (I found him at the finish and thanked him)
* Edited to add it was Brice Esquerre..
I kept telling myself that the airmen who tackled the climb during the war did so in the dark, wearing espadrilles, perhaps weak from enforced inactivity and injury, plus they would have the ever-present fear of capture, which could have meant imprisonment, torture and execution. That they found it a gruelling climb is no surprise - that they were able to complete the walk is a tribute to them and perhaps also to the encouragement offered by Florentino and Dédée. By all accounts, many were tempted to give up.
Suddenly we were at the summit and a magnificent panorama stretched out before us with the outline of Fuenterrabia in Spain clearly visible below.. I lay as if pole-axed for a few minutes before getting to my feet again for the descent which was not as easy as it appeared on the slippery rocks and loose surface.. My water bottle was now all but empty and I was unable to swallow an energy bar. The morale in our small group rose sharply when we came across a trickling spring of cold water. A lifesaver..!
The sound of the Bidassoa river was now clearly audible below and our pace quickened as we scrambled down the final hurdle of a steep descent of a slippery rock face. We emerged from the woodland and there before us lay the Bidassoa. What a relief to step into its cool fast flowing waters! Cheered across by the veterans and others, we made it across the slippery river bed and up the other side to be met with cold rough cider and grilled sardines prepared for us by our Spanish Basque helpers..
I was too tired to even eat a sardine which must be some sort of a record for me! The coach taking us back to our hotels that night was very quiet, as we were all too exhausted to speak. We were told the next day would be equally as arduous, but as we would be starting early we would feel stronger. That was it for me.. This was the hardest physical challenge I've ever done and I was really at the end of my tether - rubber legs, the ground moving, pounding in my ears et al. Madame reminded me when I returned home that my doc had told me no climbing with my creaky knees! So, as I'd just paid my rowing subscription for the year, we decided that discretion would be the better part of valour etc so the following day saw me on the bus.
I've 'lifted' this description (from John Clinch's site) of the second day from Anna Moreland who completed it in 2004:
Next morning saw us up before dawn without even time for breakfast and marching off to join the coach which would relay us to the point where we had finished the night before. The giddying ascent started immediately and our calf muscles aching from the day before were soon searing with pain. Again we climbed and climbed in single file, with some paths so steep that we were looking for any handhold just to stop sliding down. Just when it seemed that we were at the very end of endurance we stopped on a grassy knoll. Looking about us in every direction we could see nothing but other mountain peaks, equally majestic, encircled with swirling mists. Their sides were lush and verdant, buzzards soared, the air smelt of spruce, wild mint and mountain thyme, and the view was giddying with no sign of humanity. It felt as if earth had touched the heavens in that one magical spot. I'm sure those like myself who had never done any real climbing must have felt all the effort worthwhile just for those few moments.
We were offered a packet of biscuits by a couple who spoke only Euskera, the language of the Basques, and we ate them gratefully, sharing those magical moments in a companionable silence. We could have stayed there for ages, drinking in the view, but Roger soon had us moving on again as we had deadlines to meet.
Sarobe Farm
The next few hours passed in more painful ascents, crossing a busy road that of course had not been there originally, and then, at last, a gradual descent through the woods towards Sarobe farm. We arrived at about midday to find a farmhouse untouched by the years. It was not hard to imagine the relief the aircrew must have felt as they staggered through the door into the warmth and shelter of a large kitchen where a table would have been laid with food and warm drinks for them, and bowls of salt water would be provided to soak their bleeding and blistered feet. Then they would be shown to a hay loft where they were given blankets and allowed finally to sleep. The farm is still owned by the same family, and their welcome was sincere and touching. Refreshments of their own home made cider and bread and nuts were provided on a long trestle table outside, as we wearily awaited the coach with the veterans, who had been delayed.
Having arrived here by a small bus, I rejoined the walkers at this point.
15,000 litre cider barrels (3300 gallons)
We set off on the last stage of the freedom trail down a tarmac road under the heat of the midday sun. This was just a hard slog to the finish. Pressing on, we encouraged each other to keep going and eventually we found our buses.. which took us to our cidrerie - which was full of Spanish Basques all talking 20 to the dozen.. We sat at long tables and some very welcome rough cider appeared followed by some powerful local Rioja.. These cidreries (ours was #5 on this list) are popular in the Spanish Basque country.
Food arrived unbidden.. served on one large communal plate between every 2 or 4 people.. an omelette with cod, followed by cod with green peppers and then a cote de boeuf between two. This had been shown a grill - briefly - and, as my father (a graduate of the Blowlamp School of Cooking!) would have said, a good vet could have had it back on its feet in 5 minutes..!
From l to r: Cod omelette, cod & peppers, cote de boeuf, cheese with quince & honey
They race 13 man boats known as traînières in the Spanish Basque country - I've rowed with them a few times at San Sebastian out on the long rolling Atlantic swells (right) and difficult it is too - and it just so happened that the local club to our cidrerie had won the final of "Le Drapeau de la Concha" and they were celebrating in the adjacent dining room. When they heard that our three veterans were in the next dining room, they all poured in. They love singing and an accordion appeared and they started (below) with a song of farewell (one that they used to sing as the fishing boats left) which was for the Veterans - and there wasn't a dry eye in the house.. or a lump-free throat. It was incredibly moving.. and I'd have thought it almost impossible to capture the atmosphere with a camera.. but John Clinch managed it brilliantly with his short video:
They then sang Hegoak, a Basque song (roughly equivalent to Flower of Scotland) that's sung across the Basque country on both sides of the border. Here's a short clip of trainieres at San Sebastian rowing out at speed into the Atlantic and also some youngsters at Saint-Jean-de-Luz:
Our final stop of the day was at Florentino's birthplace in Hernani, a small Spanish Basque village. There, a small memorial to their greatest son had been set up at the roadside and it was here that we assembled - together with Florentino's brother Antonio (an astonishingly sprightly 93!) and his family. After some heartfelt thanks from the 'vets' - which, incidentally, were translated into Basque by Joe, an Irishman living in San Sebastian - about 10 ladies gave an extremely moving rendition of Hegoak.
Everyone there at the Comet weekend had a story to tell. One woman had come all the way from Australia to re-trace her Dad's footsteps. Another daughter came from California. The story of the Comet Line is a very human story and it showed humanity at its best - and at its worst.
Almost finished - as I write, Suzanne Dando, a former British Olympic athlete, is participating in a similar event further east - le Chemin de la Liberté. this involves a 4 day crossing of the Pyrenees at altitudes of up to 8,000ft. I wish her and her team of women every encouragement. Well done ladies!
15th September 2010. Finally, I went rowing yesterday evening - had an excellent solid outing in an VIII on a beautiful evening. 12km. (running total 165km)
23rd September 2010. Rowing tonight - good sortie in a IV - 13km. (running total 178km)
17th July 2010. I mentioned in an earlier post that I've become increasingly interested in the Comet Line since I found out that its operations in the South West of France were controlled from a house just a few minutes from here.
Dédée
The Comet Line was a secret network established during WWII by Andrée De Jongh("Dédée" or the Little Cyclone), a brave 24 year old Belgian woman, with the aim of helping shot-down Allied airmen to escape and evade from the Low countries down through France, over the Pyrenees to Spain and hence to return to Britain via Gibraltar or Lisbon. The activities of the Comet Line in the Pays Basque were co-ordinated by an indefatigable Belgian lady - Elvire De Greef - known as "Tante Go".
"Tante Go"
She and her husband Fernand lived in nearby Anglet in a house known as the Villa Voisin. In researching the Pays Basque end of the Comet Line, I finally managed to pinpoint the address of the Villa Voisin and I drove there today. By the way, my comments on the Comet Line are not intended as an exhaustive account of the activities in this area by any means. I'm aware that in naming names that there are many others who remain un-named. My admiration for all those who helped is unbounded and without reservation.
Villa Voisin
The Villa Voisin* is located at the end of a discreet cul-de-sac in the centre of Anglet, set back from the lane. It's an anonymous, drab villa hiding behind closed shutters and and surrounded by a small garden. It appears to be unoccupied at present. Affixed to one of the gateposts is a simple marble plaque (left). It was with mixed emotions that I finally found myself outside it. Those immensely courageous people who'd operated the Line from it had known the highs and lows of a secret life on the run against a ruthless enemy - the need for eternal vigilance, the constant fear of the heavy tramp of boots outside that preceded a late night hammering at the door. Counter-balancing that however, they'd shared the adrenalin-fuelled comradeship, the knowledge that they were fighting for a better world and the satisfaction of knowing that they were both defying the invader and contributing to his defeat by helping hundreds of escaping airmen to evade capture and return home to fly again. In the four years it operated from 1941 to 1944, the Comet Line saved hundreds of Allied airmen and soldiers to evade capture and return home. It's difficult for us today to imagine the kind of world that made the Comet Line necessary.
* (Edited to add: Sadly, the Villa Voisin was demolished not long after I wrote this)
Looking at the house, I found myself wishing that I'd known Dédée and "Tante Go". Christened the Little Cyclone by her father, by all accounts Dédée was clearly someone very special indeed - possessed of an inner fire and an unquenchable determination to "make a difference". Knowing that hundreds and thousands of Allied airmen were going out over occupied Europe night after night in their bombers to destroy the Third Reich that had occupied her country, she'd felt compelled to join the fight and to take the same risk as them (many would say an even greater risk) in playing her part in ridding Europe of the scourge of tyranny. After having made 37 crossings of the Pyrenees with her precious cargo of airmen, she was captured in January 1943 as a result of a betrayal, interrogated by the Gestapo when, in a gallant bid to save her fellow Comet members, she admitted to her disbelieving questioners that she was indeed the central controller and organiser of the entire network. She was later deported to Ravensbrück and later the appalling Mauthausen where she somehow managed to survive for two years until the Liberation.
After the war, she was awarded the George Medal (scroll down the link) by King George VI following which she moved to the pre-independence Belgian Congo, then to Cameroon, next to Addis Ababa in Ethiopia, working in leper hospitals and finally to Senegal. In failing health, she eventually retired to Brussels where she died on 13th October 2007 aged 90.
Florentino
The Basque guide who led parties of airmen across the mountains for the Comet Line was the legendary Florentino Goicoechea(above). By profession he was a smuggler (alleged to have been wanted by the authorities on both sides of the border!) and, when awarded the King's Medal, he was described as being 'in the import and export business'! He looks like someone you'd want on your side in a tight corner. Here he is again in 1965:
I'm no great believer in medals, awards or citations, but if medals are to be awarded, I think we should make sure the right ones are given. Dédée and "Tante Go" (and others) received the George Medal (right). I would have said that the Victoria Cross, Britain's highest award for gallantry, would have been more appropriate, given their achievements and the risks they took. After all, they chose to involve themselves, to risk their lives. They could have just kept their heads down and carried on with life and no-one would have been any the wiser. Theirs was not a courage born of the heat of battle and over in a flash but rather it was a cold courage that was measured, a solitary courage, aware of all the terrible risks they were taking (no Geneva Convention or prisoner of war camps for them) and yet they continued the fight for years. I know the VC is intended for military personnel only but who would argue that they were not involved in a military undertaking. I would have made an exception in their case and I firmly believe that all three (and others) fully merited the VC.
Another safe house was provided by Jean and Marthe Dassié, a family of activists in Bayonne. Their 16 year old daughter Lucienne ("Lulu") was also involved and, after being captured with her parents in 1943, she and her mother spent 2 years in Ravensbruck, a name that still sounds fearful today. Her father Jean survived the horrors of Buchenwald only to die aged 50 within days of being reunited with his family in May 1945. Here are a few lines by Kipling written after the Great War but they apply equally here.
They are too near to be great,
But our children shall understand.
When and how our fate was changed
And by whose hand.
Kipling
The "Trois Couronnes"
I'm planning to participate in a 3 day "March over the Mountains", around the distinctive Trois Couronnes(above) and down into Spain, that will take place in September to commemorate the south western Comet Line. The route will re-trace exactly the path taken by Dédée and Florentino and the escapers from Urrugne in France to Renteria in Spain. Now in her eighties, "Lulu" telephoned a couple of days ago to provide some information about the event. It will be a great honour to meet her.
Here's Le Chant des Partisans - (the Partisans song) - which leaves listeners in no doubt as to the views of the occupied population:
21st July 2010. Let's enjoy a happier mood now with the Buena Vista Social Club playing Chan Chan live in Amsterdam:
To finish up with, here to take you home is Ry Cooder & The Moula Banda Rhythm Aces with Maria Elena:
