Original subtitles

Le chant des partisans, the Occupation, and the “dark years”

are the background for the book we're presenting tonight.

This book tells a story

that begins on July 27, 1940.

THE NIGHT WILL END On that day, or rather night, in a room in Saint Maxime,

a man writes.

This man is an officer

fresh off the Maginot Line.

He'd been captured,

but as you'll see, he's not the kind that's easily captured,

for he escaped almost immediately.

He fled across France, bristling with German troops,

to his mother's house in Saint-Maxime.

This man's name was Henri Frenay.

Henri Frenay has joined us.

Perhaps I should address you as “minister”?

I was a minister once, but I don't stand on ceremony.

Then I'll dispense with the formalities.

How did a man with a military career decide to start a newspaper?

It's unusual for a military man, isn't it?

Not really.

Back then we were being lied to from every side.

Vichy lied or kept quiet.

We had to find a way to make the truth heard across the nation.

It was our most urgent need,

especially in Free France.

Unfortunately, we lacked the means.

I was on half salary,

and all the comrades who'd joined me were poor.

But we started - for one must start somewhere -

in Vichy at the start of 1941, with one typewriter.

In retrospect, it seems laughable. - It wasn't much!

We produced one copy, then two, then six, then ten,

with Berty Albrecht.

Those were our humble beginnings.

If I skip ahead two and a half years,

the same organization had expanded, thank God,

and in the best times, when the Gestapo didn't hit us too hard,

we were running 14 printing presses simultaneously

with a volume, although the sheets were small,

that sometimes reached one million copies per month.

Of course, we didn't achieve that in a day.

It took a long time, plus lots of hard work and sacrifice.

From the typewriter we moved on to the mimeograph,

a typical progression.

Instead of typing 10 copies of an issue, we'd print 500 to 1,000 copies.

But as our organization grew, so did the demand.

The regional networks we'd created with much hard work

demanded more and more copies,

so one day we realized we needed a printing press.

I must interrupt, for we have a surprise for you.

Your book mentions Mr. Martinet, the printer in Lyon,

or more precisely, Villeurbanne.

Mr. Martinet printed the very first edition of Combat.

Unless I'm mistaken, that made him the first printer of a Resistance newspaper.

Maybe not the first, but among the first.

I went to Villeurbanne to meet Mr. Martinet.

I haven't seen him in ages.

Mr. Martinet, the machine you're using

printed the first edition of the underground newspaper Combat.

The first edition of Combat,

and before that, Petites Ailes and Vérités.

In February 7 .947, how did you become e printer for the Resistance?

It's in my character, obviously!

Obviously I didn't support the Germans or even Pétain,

for I was a member of the Socialist Party.

How did they contact you?

I came into contact with Madame Berty Albrecht

through my buddy Dargaud,

who died in the concentration camps.

Did you ever meet Henri Frenay?

I saw Henri Frenay several times when he came to pick up newspapers.

Though he was an air force captain, he lugged suitcases full of newspapers.

He was no weakling!

I've met quite a few ministers,

but he's the only one I ever saw carry suitcases.

What was your code name in the Resistance?

After much thought, we settled on “Dupont.”

Would you show us how Combat was printed?

Like this:

First pass, page 1.

Second pass, page 2.

Third pass, page 3.

Fourth pass and it's done.

Of course, the four pages were all different.

When I was arrested by the French police,

they couldn't charge me with clandestine printing

because what I printed was twice as large as my machine.

That's why I was released after a few hours in prison.

The first edition of Combat was four pages. How many copies did you print?

Around 5,000, if memory serves.

Did you have anyone to help you?

Yes, my wife.

During the Resistance, she was always by my side.

Hey, sweetie!

You coming?

Mrs. Martinet, you assisted your husband in a very dangerous activity:

printing a Resistance newspaper.

Tell us about the fear of being arrested.

What can I say?

We were afraid, but we still did our job.

What about you, Mr. Martinet?

We were always afraid, but we lived with it.

We got used to it.

It was normal. We didn't expect it to be easy.

Did many Resistance fighters visit your print shop?

Yes. And many were arrested but never gave up our names.

After the war, did any of those people come back to see you?

Very few.

Maybe two or three.

Out of how many, during the war?

A multitude, all asking for our help.

Were you decorated for your actions?

Mr. Frenay made sure I got a Resistance Medal,

but I've never worn it because they forgot about my wife.

She was up for a Croix de guerre,

but Mr. Moch, a Socialist minister, refused.

Said she didn't deserve it.

I haven't given a fig about medals since then.

At first, in 1940, you were just one sole man

organizing a Resistance movement

who was joined by others to form the Combat movement,

but at the beginning, this group led a solitary war.

As time passed, this solitary combat

joined the larger Resistance movement.

When did you first make contact with the men leading the Resistance,

especially those working from London?

I remember it extremely clearly.

The following events occurred on January 2, 1942,

in a small kitchen on rue Kléber in Marseilles,

at the home of Agnes Bidault, Georges' sister.

I'd come to meet a man I'd seen once, six months earlier, in July.

His name was Jean Moulin.

I didn't know then if he'd return, but they said he was back.

I arrived in the kitchen with my old buddy Chevance-Bertin,

and we met Jean Moulin. You can imagine how we felt.

It was our first contact with the wonderful, unknown world of England at war.

We embraced each other.

Then he took a box of matches out of his pocket.

In the matchbox were some tiny papers: microfilm.

At the bottom was a long signature...

that I didn't recognize.

It was “C. de Gaulle.”

It was his official assignment from Charles de Gaulle

putting him in charge of the entire free zone

to coordinate all the existing Resistance movements.

It was an emotional moment.

We were very happy when he pulled from his hip pocket

not a pistol but 250,000 francs!

- Quite a sum! - He laid them on the sink.

We'd never seen so much money,

and we needed it desperately.

However, we weren't so happy to learn that the microfilm

also contained instructions, or rather, orders.

I was surprised that our first contact with London would be orders

when they didn't even know us.

How could they even know what we were doing?

That's just the beginning of a very long story that I recount in my book.

There were many twists and turns,

and I don't believe I'm exaggerating

when I say there was a major misunderstanding

between the French sections in London

and the Resistance movements in France.

We didn't think we should be taking orders.

For 18 months we'd acted on our own,

finding our own resources, developing our own methods,

creating an organization and recruiting our members.

We deserved a say in the matter! So what were these orders?

There were many ups and downs over the years,

and some violent disagreements,

in particular when the maquis were formed in early 1943,

and our funding, which had grown, was suddenly and drastically cut.

The maquis cried out for help.

We sought other resources, but they prevented us.

I remember many difficult times,

many serious arguments with Jean Moulin.

Another serious conflict

was over the creation of the Conseil National de la Resistance.

It's too long a story,

but I believe it had dire consequences for France.

In short -

I'm simplifying, and please forgive me if I misrepresent anything,

but there was misunderstanding, mistrust,

and in certain cases, rivalry.

It's clear you're adopting an aggressive stance.

Your book is controversial - you've made no secret of that.

With us tonight are four Resistance fighters

who might not share your view of London's relationship with the Resistance.

Claude Bourdet, journalist, former Paris councilman,

and author of A qui appartient Paris?

Marcel Degliame, head of coproduction for French national TV,

and coauthor, with Henri Noguéres, of Histoire de la Résistance.

What was your role in the Resistance, Mr. Degliame?

I started out with Bollier

in the print shop you showed earlier,

in charge of printing and distributing Combat.

Then I was in charge of setting up what was called L'Action Ouvriere,

whose aim was to form sabotage units in factories throughout France.

Later, I headed the Commission de L'Action Immediate for the entire southern zone,

and I ended up as national leader of the Corps Francs de la Liberation.

Mr. Bourdet?

I was on Combat's executive committee.

I was Frenay's political aide.

I also created -

Well, I united and organized what became known as the NAP.

Noyautage des Administrations Publiques.

Then, after Frenay left,

I represented Combat on the executive committee of Mouvements Unis

and on the Conseil National de la Résistance

and was the political editor of Combat until my arrest in 1944.

General de Bénouville, deputy of Paris, publisher of Jours de France,

and author of Le sacrifice du matin,

what was your role in the Resistance?

Immediately after the defeat,

I started working with a movement in direct contact with the English

called Radio-Patrie.

Then I joined Henri Frenay.

He asked me to create a national foreign service for the Resistance, which I did.

When Frenay extended this service

for the use of the entire Resistance movement,

I continued to lead it.

Then, when Frenay left for London, Claude Bourdet and I replaced him

on the executive committee of Mouvements Unis de la Resistance.

That's how I spent those years.

Mr. Dewavrin, businessman,

but better known as “Colonel Passy” during the war,

author of three memoirs on the Resistance in London, you were -

Director of the BCRA,

General de Gaulle's Secret Service during the war.

Colonel Passy, you heard Henri Frenay's view of the relationship

between London and the fighters in France.

You may not completely agree. Please express your opinion.

I can't agree with my friend Henri's statements.

I believe that the misunderstandings he spoke of weren't the real problem.

The real problem was one of point of view.

I was in London with General de Gaulle,

charged with coordinating as many actions inside France as possible

to assure that all efforts were in France's best interest

and to avoid wasted effort whenever possible,

so that ultimately, all these efforts would help us win the war.

Obviously, the English, who helmed the war effort

on their own until late 1941,

preferred that these actions be more limited

than people in France might have wished.

My first mission was to organize the intelligence network in France,

because it was of capital importance for the English

to keep an eye on the German army,

and secondly, to begin a series of selective actions

to destroy specific targets chosen by the English command,

and thirdly, to establish organizations that on D-Day

would help prevent the German army from reaching the front

during the Normandy landings.

Finally, to summarize:

Something I often heard during the war, especially in certain quarters, was,

“The nation cannot be liberated without a national insurrection.”

Obviously, in London we couldn't see the problem that way,

because what London needed was utmost cooperation,

so that the fewest possible troops would be recalled from Russia.

The Normandy landings would be extremely difficult,

and the more chaos and racket raised in France,

the more German troops would be posted there,

making the landing even more difficult, if not impossible.

You've presented us with two mutually antagonistic viewpoints.

But could this lack of understanding have arisen -

and Mr. Frenay or anyone else may answer -

simply because you didn't know each other?

You were fighting in two different worlds, at least in the beginning.

I think we knew each other very well and held each other in high esteem.

I'd just like to tell Frenay - whom I've known for a long time -

that if he'd been in my shoes, I think he would've done the same.

If I'd been in his shoes, I'd feel the way he does.

Mr. Bourdet, do you have an opinion on the matter?

I agree with Frenay, though I don't agree with everything in his book.

I completely disagree

with his interpretation of Jean Moulin's motives.

We'll come to that later.

However, I agree with him here.

I believe that within the Resistance, de Bénouville, Degliame, myself -

and God knows we didn't agree politically back then -

- Even back then! - He and I never agreed!

We still don't!

But we all agreed. Frenay, Jean-Pierre Levy, practically everyone said it.

It's in Histoire de la Résistance and Henri repeats it in his book:

Everyone agreed that we disagreed with the London office.

I believe it was indeed a question of viewpoint.

I agree with Colonel Passy:

In London, it was difficult to see things any other way,

and here at home, it was impossible.

The trouble was that London had the leadership and the money,

so London constantly tried to impose itself as the head of a Resistance

that was autonomous, self-governed, self-created, born in France,

not from any London directives.

In London, they never imagined things would develop that way,

but they tried to impose their viewpoint.

And my final point is that

all that was due to de Gaulle's personality,

which Barberot defined well when he said

that de Gaulle would never relinquish the slightest bit of authority,

for he alone represented France.

In a way, he was forced to share it with the Resistance,

which he saw only as obedient soldiers

instead of the allies that we were.

I think General de Bénouville has a response to that.

We rose up against the invaders out of a natural sense of patriotism.

For several months I worked directly in a movement run by the English,

Radio-Patrie,

and I saw for myself the rivalry that was present.

The people in London - Peter Churchill and the others -

gave strict orders not to make contact with the French movements.

You stole my troops in the Alpes-Maritime!

They said we'd be in mortal danger!

In the end, after Radio-Patrie disappeared due to certain events,

and I'd convinced some people to join Combat,

we realized that our conflict with London, in general,

was over a desire for control.

You explained it well, Henri. But they tried to control everything.

For instance, my mission was to pass messages across borders.

Our principal objective was to preserve the lives of our radio operators

by cabling and telegraphing as little as possible.

But even that much wasn't tolerated by London.

They said that when information we passed through Allies in Switzerland

arrived in London, they doubted it came from Free France.

But all we wanted

was to make sure, for example, that Chatellerault was bombed on the right day!

Our friend Passy knew us well,

because, unlike most of the London office,

he came to see us several times, risking his life each time.

He understood that the reason we so valued our radio operators abroad

was to ensure the speed and efficiency of communications.

And safety.