1939, Playing Rugby with " L'Etoile Sportive Montoise. "

September 1939, in Mont de Marsan with Pierre Schöettel.





















Jacques and Pierre Schoettel, with their Grandfather.

Year 1939.

August 39, I will soon turn sixteen. I just finished my studies of shorthand typing with the Pigier school in Mont de Marsan, the chief town of the Landes department, where my mother lives.

Now in possession of my diplomas and while waiting to put them to good use in Mont de Marsan, I am on holiday in Parentis en Born where I was born and where my father lives. When I say “holidays”, I primarily spend time making a little pocket money while working in Biscarosse, at the Hourtiquets air and sea base, located at the edge of the Lake Parentis-Biscarosse. Each day I cycle the 25km return journey.

This base, having already seen Mermoz on his last flight with his Seaplane, the “Croix du Sud”, also witnessed the giant seaplane “Lieutenant de Vaisseau Paris” carrying out its first tests in 1935. At the present time the base is being extended by nibbling still a little more into the dune onto which the base leans; shovel excavators load sand into a series of trucks and my work consists in removing, with the shovel, the sand which falls from the trucks and to shovel it back into the trucks so that the site of loading remains clean. (As you can see my professional skills are put to good use!)

Sometimes, between two shovels, I watch the takeoff and landing of some of the British Imperial Airways’ beautiful seaplanes which at the time, ensure the regular London-Melbourne connection, with, of course, several stopovers, one of which being Biscarosse. I still remember some of their names, names of constellations (Cassiopeia, Andromedia, Centaurus, amongst others.) That made me dream and gave me, already, the urge to travel.

On the base, each day more numerous, I see aviators of the Air Force. I listen to the conversations of the other workmen, all much older than me, who discuss the international situation and I hear them speak about a possible mobilization.

The evening, back home, I read the newspaper “La Petite Gironde” that my father gets every day. Indeed, the news is not good. In 1938, one year ago, the war was only just prevented, but increasingly the general feeling is that this time war is unavoidable. At my father’s there is no radio but the newspaper is sufficient. After the annexation by Hitler of the Sudetenland then Slovakia, the sound of boots is getting very menacing at the Germano-Polish border. In France we are secure, the Maginot line is regarded as impregnable, our alliance with England is very solid and our rulers count much on the counterweight that the USSR could exert to slow down and even oppose German ambitions.

Yes, we feel safe, far too trusting. At the end of August 1939 we are thunder struck! Germany and the USSR have just signed a non-aggression pact and, from now on, nothing stands in the way of Germany’s expansionist aims. On September 1st, Warsaw is bombarded and the Panzerdivisonen (the German armoured Divisions) enter Poland. On September 2nd, England and France declare war on Germany and issue a general mobilization.

All valid men from 20 to 48 years old are mobilized. The existing means of transport cannot make it possible to move everyone at the same time, hence, at the end of their military service (which at the time lasts 2 years) they had all been provided with a booklet (a fascicule, it is the term employed by the military authority) which states, in the event of general mobilization (J-Day) the day when they must get under way and the regiment which they must join. These dates vary from J-Day for young people who have just finished their military service, to J+8 for the oldest.

The departures are thus spread out over several days and, at the station, train after train, I see relatives, friends and neighbors farewelled by their mothers, wives, sisters or children. Admittedly, it is far from joyful, far from it, but the general opinion is that it is necessary to finally give Hitler a lesson, that this war which starts will not last a long time (an affair of a few months, as is generally thought) and that those leaving will be back quickly. In any case, 21 years after the end of what, in France, was called the Big War, noone foresees that what has just been declared could last, as the Big War did, more than four years.

Trucks, cars and horses are also requisitioned. Specialized teams inspect the material condition of the vehicles, the medical condition of the horses, keep hold of what is fit, and let go of what is not.

In a few days the village is emptied of its living force. Apart from some men who are appointed to special services, thus escaping the common fate in order to ensure the permanence of the essential services (transport, energy, health, safety), there remain only the women who take over the men’s tasks, the children who must learn how to mature more quickly, the old men who must go back to work, if they still can, and the crippled or sick who need to be looked after. As for my family, my father, at 59, is not mobilized. He continues his trade of résinier (between March and October he collects the resin from the pine trees for the account of a land owner, a hard and very badly paid labour, so badly paid that, in 40 years it has completely disappeared from France since no one wants to practice it any more.) From November to February, he works at the felling of pine trees, a better paid but exhausting work.

With the arrival of war, the air and sea base becomes exclusively military, and my work ends. Around mid-September I return to my mother’s in Mont de Marsan where I immediately find work as a secretary typist for the Court.

From September 1939 to May 10, 1940 - the “phoney war”.

Thus I just turned sixteen. I live with my mother, a worker for Tamboury, a factory that transforms wood into boards, skirting, and parquet floors. This factory is located at the eastern exit of the city, at the edge of the road which leads to Villeneuve de Marsan. It is skirted by a railway embankment and leads Mont de Marsan to Roquefort (no relation with the cheese of the same name, this is Roquefort in the Landes, whereas its namesake, known for its cheese, is located in Lozere, in the North-West of Montpellier.) I mention now the embankment passage of this railway because of its relevance, as we will see later.

September 39, the German panzers, backed up by Stukas (attack planes) and other bombers (Dornier or Heinkel) crush unfortunate Poland. The speed of the German advance astounds the whole world. The French public opinion, as I understand it from my 16 years, is starting to wonder what kind of supermen the Poles are confronted by. To tell the truth, there is no real concern yet. It is generally thought that, all simply, Poland is a nation with far lesser possibilities of action than France and England joined together.

Back home, the print media and radio keep us updated on the installation of our blanket troops, along the Rhine and in front of the Maginot line, between the border of Luxembourg and Switzerland. We are even assured that, in certain places, between the Moselle and the Rhine in the area of Forbach, the French troops penetrated several kilometers deep in Germany in the forest of Wardnt. Therefore all goes well for the time being, the French and Germans observe each other, some patrols here and there, some skirmishes when they cannot be avoided, but nothing too serious yet. The“phoney war” has begun.

The 14th Regiment of Senegalese Riflemen, a large regiment of approximately 1 500 men, which held garrison in Mont de Marsan, has, as of the first day of the mobilization, left for the East of France. In the Bosquet barracks there remains nothing but one small detachment whose duty is to recover and forward to the front all of those who could not leave with the troop, because they were in hospitals or on leave at that time.

It is also the time when we see arriving the first Alsatian refugees. Indeed, as of the declaration of war, the government decided to evacuate all the inhabitants of the cities and villages of Alsace and Lorraine located between the Maginot line and the German border. Each area of the interior received its batch of refugees and, next to my place, is lodged a family from Mulhouse, the Schoettels, in a large house of which a part is unoccupied. The father, Emile, who must be around fifty, was employed in some administration service, the mother, apparently without profession, looks after their three children, Marcelle, 14, Jacques, 12 and Pierre, 10 , who very quickly become my friends.

After three weeks of a lightning campaign (blitzkrieg) Poland is overcome and divided between Germany and the late-comer USSR, that tardily comes to take part in the quarry. In France the Communist Party is prohibited and its chief, Maurice Thorez, although he was eligible to be mobilized, preferred to desert and take refuge in Moscow. Now that the USSR is in fact the ally of Germany, it must be said that the communist propaganda continues nevertheless to preach either desertion, refusal to fight, or civil disobedience and also incites, alas, to sabotage the weapons factories. In Court, my work has me taking note of files concerning these acts of defeatism and calls to disobedience. In my young head I wish that these individuals were harshly sanctioned since I cannot admit that alleged French people could wish for their own country to be defeated. The radio teaches us that a French traitor, named Ferdonnet, expressing himself on the waves of Stuttgart radio, wishes the worst on the French soldiers and incites them to desert, without much success, it goes without saying.

Autumn is here. When I do not work, with Schoettel we benefit from the last beautiful days to bathe in the Midouze at the Sabliere and to play Tarzan in the trees. Life goes on its normal course. At the aerodrome of Mont de Marsan a training school for fighter pilots was created, the future pilots train on small monoplanes. From time to time, alas, we hear about accidents, some of them fatal.

The radio (my mother owns a small radio-set) repeats each day the same thing: “nothing new overall except for some light artillery battles, skirmishes consecutive to patrolling and some incursions of the aviation of enemy recognition attacked by our DCA (anti-aircraft defense). Charles Trenet takes part in keeping up the morale of the French and sings endlessly “Y' a d’la joie! ”, “Boum! ”, “Je chante”, while Tino Rossi, another god of the moment keeps on softly singing “Marinella” and “Tchi-Tchi”. In addition, a song coming from across the channel is starting to become very popular in France, “We will dry our linen on the Siegfried line” that is hummed by the first English soldiers coming to settle in France.

With October gone, we are now in November with its celebration of November 11, 1918 and, 21 years afterwards, again at war. Who would have believed it? Pierre Schoettel, the Alsatian boy, has, for the occasion, put on a khaki hat stuck with a tricolour rosette that his mother made for him and he parades while singing: “You will not have Alsace and Lorraine, because in spite of you, we will remain French. You may well germanise the plain, but you will never own our heart.” More than sixty years later, I recall this image as if it were yesterday.

December, and still the “phoney war” continues. The media tells us of “Corps Francs” incursions; each regiment that is in direct contact with the enemy sets up an unofficial force made up of volunteers, of eager guys, with the mission to penetrate at night the enemy lines, to ambush the enemy, take prisoners and bring them back, to lay mines, and gather information. Reciprocally the Germans also have their “corps francs” and the first “Died at the Field of Honor” notifications start reaching some families. An event however fills us with ease in this year end: the scuttling in Rio de Plata of the pocket size German battleship “Graf von Spee” that the English destroyers, Exeter and Achilles, had forced to take refuge in Uruguay, in Montevideo.

The winter is turning harsh in the North and East. The Maginot line, which was initially designed to prevent all German incursion into Switzerland and Luxembourg, was not built beyond, towards the North Sea. Indeed, at the time, it was considered that, on the one hand the solid mass of the Ardennes constituted a sufficient obstacle to bar the crossing of any Eastern enemy, and, on the other hand, Belgium being neutral, it was supposed that Germany, contrarily to what had occurred in 1914, would finally respect its neutrality. All the same, in view of what has just occurred to Poland, very tardily, the French High-Command starts to doubt the German fair play and decides (very late) to extend the already existing line, hence, somehow or other, blockhouses are hastily built on the roads from France to Luxembourg and Belgium. Unfortunately they will be of no use when the time comes.

----------------------======0000O0000======------------

Year1940 
                                                                                Top.

 

Bronze Sculptures by Olivier Duhamel