John Houseman's Diary - Mission EUCALYPTUS (part 2 of 7)

1st July:

Starting again soon after breakfast, we continued on our tour, and inspected more gun positions, this time by car. About 11 o'clock, having given us no indication of any sort whatsoever of what to expect, Cmdt B drove us towards the outskirts of Aouste. He stopped at a house outside the town and spoke to a man at the gate - obviously a member of the Resistance. (He told me afterwards it was merely to enquire whether the 'protection patrol' was out. He had had the entire town cordoned off by Maquis patrols for our safety). We drove on towards Aouste.

As we entered by some smallish streets I happened to see a young girl starring at us - she stared for a moment only. Turning round on her bicycle she shot off into the town itself - the news was out. No town crier can have had such a response.

We stopped at a small shop - I assumed the proprietor to be a friend of the Cmdt's and shook hands (I think we were kissed as well) with the people inside. Wine appeared, and I had scarcely raised my glass, when I heard a seething mob outside in the street - the people of Aouste had come immediately to welcome us.

They surged round us, shaking our hands and hugging us - all were talking at once, and my very poor French met it's Waterloo. Armed with flowers and carrying children, they kept on streaming in, telling us of their experiences, asking us when the invasion armies would come and thanking us time and again for coming to their country and to their town. The bouquets of red, white and blue flowers by now covered the large table in the shop - more wine was brought up and the children reappeared with red, white and blue ribbons in their hair.

After an hour or so we left the shop at the request of Cmdt B, to make what proved to be nothing less than a regal procession through the town. We had to walk at the head of this excited ever-growing crowd along the main street to an outpost at the far side of the town. Men saluted us, the women clapped, children ran to kiss us and give us more flowers to carry. People rushed into the road and held up the cavalcade to grasp us by the hand and to embrace us. On our way back, an elderly woman ran across the road with tears in her eyes, to tell me about a relation she had lost and to ask the ever-expectant question "when will the invasion from the south begin?".

It was all so fantastic - so unexpected and so pathetic. They treated us as though we were the saviours of France - the first Allied officers they had seen. They simply didn't know how to express their delight and gratitude. At this moment, what little we could do for them, seemed to be so miserably insignificant.

After riding on a lorry to see the fortifications over the River Drome, we returned by way of the town to say "good-bye", and to wind our way back again into the hills.

A large tricolour had been produced and planted firmly over the bonnet of our car, and a basket suspended in front to carry our armfuls of flowers. We went to a little church in the hills where there were the graves of several fallen patriots, and left our flowers on them. An immense lunch followed at the section's HQ, after which we returned to Cmdt B's HQ. "Vous avez vu, vous avez ete vu", was all he said to me.

A special item of interest which Cmdt B revelled in showing us was the remains of a German plane, littering the side of one of the hills, which had been shot down by a lucky shot from a single rifle. We climbed up to have a look.

I suspected there was something more in the Cmdt's childish delight than the mere wreckage of a crashed German plane, and my suspicions were not very far wrong. "Here's the plane", he said, "and there's the engine over there", pointing to a tangled lump of machinery lodged against a rock, "and look it this!". There was no need to look, the smell told me before I did so - it was half the carcass of a German pilot. "You see the head" he said, "and there's an ear, and the nose and teeth", his excitement almost getting the better of him. "We buried the others", (incidentally, with military honours, so I heard), "but we didn't bother with this one, as we couldn't find the rest of him". The Cmdt was delighted. He also showed us the spot where they had destroyed a German staff car with a single gammon grenade - not forgetting to point out most particularly the stains on the road - still visible - which were German blood.

2nd July:

I got back to the PC after a rather hair raising journey along roads mined and 'set' in such a way that, if the guards failed to see you coming in time to move to the Heath Robinson switches, this diary would never have

been written, to find Desmond in the midst of a sea of telegrams. Poor chap had been working into the small hours single handed during my absence.

3rd July:

Nothing very outstanding happened for the next ten days or so - we lived in our own P C and worked there all day, often into the early hours, coding and decoding, having our meals with the French HQ staff at their P C.

Several times a parachute drop message came over the BBC, and usually either Desmond or I went out to the reception area. The only 'body op' we had was when Packbois, Christine and four French instructors arrived in a high wind, and when one of them landed on the rocks and was badly injured. Christine drifted for four kms.

Work continued at high pressure for the next ten days or so - we all suffered from lack of sleep, seldom getting to bed before one or two in the morning. Towards the end of this period I persuaded Desmond to take a little more sleep as he was looking such a wreck. Parry, too, was looking absolutely haggard.

13th July:

Message received announcing a mass parachute drop the following day. Celebrations had already been arranged, it being the national day, and the arrival of a mass daylight drop stimulated the feelings of the French. It was, also, a great feather in the Mission's cap. We were duly thanked for our efforts which were beginning to show results.

14th July:

A message was received saying that a mass parachute operation was to be expected at 9 o'clock. And certainly 'mass' it was. Eighty five Fortresses came over in formation, in three waves, dropping about one thousand containers. A wonderful sight, but the beginning of all our trouble.

Both London and Algiers had sent telegrams saying that we could expect a major attack at almost any moment, and local information (the intelligence service was excellent) confirmed this. Three divisions were closing in on us from Valence, Romans St. Niziere and Grenoble. No doubt the mass parachute drop stimulated the German's concern as to what was happening in the Vercors (rumours had long since been current that 5,000 parachutists had arrived during the night).

Reconnaissance planes were constantly flying over the plateau, soon to be followed by bombers and fighters which bombed and strafed us all day.

Desmond went of to Die for the National celebrations and, on the whole, did not enjoy it much, I fear. His car was hunted and followed the entire way by German planes, and several times they had to stop and drive into the ditch. I understand the German planes watched the ceremony with due interest also, which didn't improve the state of mind of several hundred people closely gathered into the market square. I was glad to see him back, as things were hotting up in St. Martin, and I had had to send an emergency telegram for the bombing of Chabeuil suggesting a combined coup-de-main with our own forces. We worked until about 2 am then went to bed. At 3 am Cmdt. H called Desmond out of bed, to tell him the latest news.

15th July:

Air attacks continued. It was impossible to continue collecting the containers from the day light drop during daylight. Desmond and I visited Lt. B's positions with 'Bois'. Enemy closing in.

16th July:

Vassieux now practically destroyed by bombing, though not much damage done to the containers. More cables asking for immediate reinforcements and heavy weapons - atmosphere very tense.

17th July:

Reports coming in hourly. Enemy advancing from St. Nizier, and closing in on the Vercors triangle from all directions. Bombing and strafing continued.

18th July:

Necessary to watch the sky every time you left a building - sometimes dodging from tree to tree to avoid machine gunning. Enemy patrols in contact with our outposts. Cmdt. H maintaining extraordinary calm, he seemed (as in fact he had) to have the situation completely in hand. Signs of nervousness in the P C among the junior officers - Desmond and I trying hard not to show signs of alarm! even when a German plane passed the dining room window (flying up the valley) as I had a spoonful of soup! Martial law had been proclaimed throughout the Vercors - all units were in battle positions. La Chapelle burned out by constant air attack, ambulances making incessant journeys through the village to the hospital with the wounded. We tried to get some sleep in the evening, thinking we might have to do without any for some time to come.

We kept our rucksacks permanently packed - all expected an emergency at any moment. The tension was beginning to tell. I remember feeling how caged in we were - surrounded on all sides, and, in our houses, we represented sitting birds for the unopposed German planes. The bombardment appeared to be a creeping one - Vassieux, La Chapelle and next, St. Martin.

19th July:

Enemy attacked in force. Took some of our positions. During the night, our troops counter attacked and re-took all positions.

20th July:

400 paratroops (German) landed at Vassieux. Infiltration through woods and strong enemy attacks turned our positions. Position not considered desperate, and later many positions were regained.

21st July:

General attack was intensified, and bombing was increased.

22nd July:

3am. Desmond was called to the P C to receive bad news. The Vercors was falling. Our positions had been turned, all our reserves had now been in the line for some time. The Americans were fighting the paratroops, but were out-weaponed. We had orders to take to the woods. Desmond sent me up to Parry as Henri was missing (but soon reappeared). Parry came down to our P C. Our spare kit, together with some of his equipment had been sent to the cave the day before. He arranged to leave it at 10 am.

At 7am a head quarter party of about fourteen men together with Bouise (in command) came to our P C to collect Desmond, me and Bois, who was acting as guide owing to his intimate knowledge of the woods. De Brois, with the girl who had been helping us with the cipher work, also joined this ragged party. Without ceremony or farewells, except to Parry, Croix and Pierre, we started up the hill keeping under cover as much as possible - Bois led the way.

Before leaving, Desmond arranged a rendezvous with Andre Parry four days later at his cave, also communications to be sent via boite-au-lettre in the farm up the track.

I remember feeling intense relief at being in the open. I'd sensed an oppressive atmosphere of confinement in our house with bombing and machine gunning off and on all day. Now, at least, we had space. We climbed the hill slowly, in silence and without smoking, as all tracks through the woods were to be expected to be patrolled by now by Germans or Militier. Aeroplanes were constantly searching the woods. The spot we were making for was one decided upon by Cmdt. H, where he proposed joining us the following day, and establishing his emergency HQ.

We eventually arrived at the crest in driving rain, and after Desmond and Bois had made a recce, moved on to a suitable place in the trees to sleep. We slept for a couple of hours or so, and woke up soaking wet. Bois broke the news to us that there was no water at all in this part of the woods. An elementary essential I should have thought would have been reckoned with.
We all produced what food we had, and it was at once patiently obvious our supplies for 20 men and a girl were very inadequate. The strictest rationing was necessary and duly enforced. Lunch, I remember, was a half slice of bread and a bit of tinned fish.

Fires were not permissible, for fear of the smoke giving away our position. We were miserably wet.

Later we moved to another spot for the night, as two men from our party decided to leave and to go home - the possibility of their being Militier was too dangerous.

At dusk we settled down for the night - an extremely uncomfortable one too. Talking in the mildest of whispers was already becoming a habit.

We slept, all six of us, as close together as possible in order to be warmer, with our packs ready, our boots handy and our guns within arm's length.

23rd July:

We moved on to another place in case our previous one might have been given away. A better one this time, and the sun was shining. I tried to dry some of my clothes, and walked about in bare feet to give my sodden boots a chance to dry. About midday, Desmond suggested climbing down again to St. Martin for information, food and water. He and Bois made a recce, and decided to go. I suggested going instead of Desmond, as his knee was troubling him, and the dangers of becoming lame were only too obvious. However, he assured me that he was up to it. Another Frenchman went too. They returned at dawn with rucksacks full of raw meat and bread, some water and a live goat in milk. They'd had, I gathered, a fairly hair-raising time dodging patrols and so on - Desmond's diary gives a full description of this. That evening we moved on again.

24th July:

We lay all day in a rather pleasant clearing, but our thirst was rising. The meagre ration of half a cupful of water a day (sometimes) and two table-spoons of goat's milk were not much help. So I settled down to squeeze water out of moss irrespective of the physical effort which it entailed. After two or three hours hard work, sometimes with the assistance of one or another member of the party, I had perhaps 3/4 of a pint which, though muddy and having an unwelcome taste, was nectar. Desmond was beginning to show signs of strain and thirst.

25th July:

Moved again. The goat began bleating for her kid though, needless to say, she was milked frequently enough. She was, however, becoming a danger and we thought she'd have to be killed. Still no sign of Cmdt. H, Andre or anyone else.

The planes kept up their tireless search, and every unusual sound in the woods caused an instant silence among the party - a hunted dog look, as everyone strained his ears and slowly, but with calculated intention, reached for his gun. The strain was beginning to mean something, and we were all getting weak. The usual rations for the day were: breakfast - one handful of dry cornflakes; lunch - a slice of raw goat's flesh and half a piece of bread; supper - goat's meat and bread again. Desmond and I had some emergency rations e.g. raisins, dried figs, a little chocolate, etc, but shared between six people they went only a short way. Thirst was far worse than hunger.

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