The Greatest Escape: How one French community saved thousands of lives from the Nazis - A Good Place to Hide Read Online Free
headed for the prefect’s office. He knew what he needed, and he knew where to find it.
I was completely on my own at the back of the office, cleaning the machines. There was no one there to see what I was doing. I had no problems, none, none. I pinched some letterhead paper, and the prefect’s official seal, and I made a permis de séjour using the prefecture’s Underwood typewriters
.
Ever considerate, he spared the prefect all the bother of having to sign the
permis
, which authorised a certain Madame Mira Rosowsky to leave Rivesaltes and travel to Nice. Instead, Oscar signed it on the prefect’s behalf, with a nicely convincing version of the real signature. Then, apparently finished his cleaning round, he pedalled off as serenelyas he had arrived, the precious paper and the prefect’s stamp safely tucked away in his toolbox. It was all too easy.
Next, the burning question was how to get the paper to Mira in Rivesaltes. At this time, in early November 1942, internees in the camps were still allowed to write and receive letters, so Oscar suggested simply entrusting it to the post. Charles Hanne was adamant: no, he had connections. He would see that it got to her. To be on the safe side, Oscar arranged for two German photographers, friends of his parents’, to make a good copy. Then he handed the precious original over to Charles Hanne.
Days passed. Nothing happened.
Oscar was getting desperate. Time was running out. His mother could be deported at any time. He posted the surviving copy of the permit off to the camp. Then he—and Mira—had a stroke of luck. On 8 November, ‘Operation Torch’ began. British and American forces struck fast and effectively, landing in the French territory of Algeria in North Africa, just across the Mediterranean from France. They quickly brushed aside Vichy resistance, and looked poised to launch an invasion of the European mainland. The Germans reacted quickly and decisively. On 11 November they ended the sham of ‘Unoccupied’ France by sweeping south, occupying the whole country.
With this sudden change of government, there was understandable confusion throughout the old Vichy zone. Who was in charge? Did the Vichy government’s word still count for anything? Who controlled Rivesaltes? Nobody knew. It was a good moment for Mira Rosowsky to present Oscar’s photocopy of her
permis de séjour
to the camp authorities. In all the chaos, they probably reasoned that one Jew less was one problem less. So they accepted the
permis
and, on 17 November 1942, they let her go. Oscar Rosowsky’s career as a forger was off to a good start.
Reunited in Nice, Oscar and Mira discussed the future. They couldn’t stay in Nice. They were already targets. It was clear that Switzerland was too risky. They had both already failed trying to get there. To Oscar, the only possibility was to find some way to merge unnoticed into French society, in some other part of France. The best bet looked like Le Chambon-sur-Lignon. Oscar still had Jean-Claude Pluntz’s papers, so he could travel as Pluntz. He agreed with Mira that he should take a look for himself at the Plateau.
He set off alone, by train, from Nice to Le Chambon. Within hours of his arrival, he knew that this was the place. He returned to Nice to collect his mother. However, that left the problem of papers. His mother spoke French with a pronounced foreign accent. If she carried regular French papers, she would be under suspicion from the minute she opened her mouth. She needed papers that matched her accent. Again, Oscar had the answer.
Producing false papers is no simple matter. They need to be checkable against other official records, and they need to match in every possible way the person using them. Oscar searched the
Journal officiel
, the official gazette of the French republic, for a suitable history. Then, using the stolen prefect’s official seal, and his newly acquired skills at forgery, he created the birth certificate
I was completely on my own at the back of the office, cleaning the machines. There was no one there to see what I was doing. I had no problems, none, none. I pinched some letterhead paper, and the prefect’s official seal, and I made a permis de séjour using the prefecture’s Underwood typewriters
.
Ever considerate, he spared the prefect all the bother of having to sign the
permis
, which authorised a certain Madame Mira Rosowsky to leave Rivesaltes and travel to Nice. Instead, Oscar signed it on the prefect’s behalf, with a nicely convincing version of the real signature. Then, apparently finished his cleaning round, he pedalled off as serenelyas he had arrived, the precious paper and the prefect’s stamp safely tucked away in his toolbox. It was all too easy.
Next, the burning question was how to get the paper to Mira in Rivesaltes. At this time, in early November 1942, internees in the camps were still allowed to write and receive letters, so Oscar suggested simply entrusting it to the post. Charles Hanne was adamant: no, he had connections. He would see that it got to her. To be on the safe side, Oscar arranged for two German photographers, friends of his parents’, to make a good copy. Then he handed the precious original over to Charles Hanne.
Days passed. Nothing happened.
Oscar was getting desperate. Time was running out. His mother could be deported at any time. He posted the surviving copy of the permit off to the camp. Then he—and Mira—had a stroke of luck. On 8 November, ‘Operation Torch’ began. British and American forces struck fast and effectively, landing in the French territory of Algeria in North Africa, just across the Mediterranean from France. They quickly brushed aside Vichy resistance, and looked poised to launch an invasion of the European mainland. The Germans reacted quickly and decisively. On 11 November they ended the sham of ‘Unoccupied’ France by sweeping south, occupying the whole country.
With this sudden change of government, there was understandable confusion throughout the old Vichy zone. Who was in charge? Did the Vichy government’s word still count for anything? Who controlled Rivesaltes? Nobody knew. It was a good moment for Mira Rosowsky to present Oscar’s photocopy of her
permis de séjour
to the camp authorities. In all the chaos, they probably reasoned that one Jew less was one problem less. So they accepted the
permis
and, on 17 November 1942, they let her go. Oscar Rosowsky’s career as a forger was off to a good start.
Reunited in Nice, Oscar and Mira discussed the future. They couldn’t stay in Nice. They were already targets. It was clear that Switzerland was too risky. They had both already failed trying to get there. To Oscar, the only possibility was to find some way to merge unnoticed into French society, in some other part of France. The best bet looked like Le Chambon-sur-Lignon. Oscar still had Jean-Claude Pluntz’s papers, so he could travel as Pluntz. He agreed with Mira that he should take a look for himself at the Plateau.
He set off alone, by train, from Nice to Le Chambon. Within hours of his arrival, he knew that this was the place. He returned to Nice to collect his mother. However, that left the problem of papers. His mother spoke French with a pronounced foreign accent. If she carried regular French papers, she would be under suspicion from the minute she opened her mouth. She needed papers that matched her accent. Again, Oscar had the answer.
Producing false papers is no simple matter. They need to be checkable against other official records, and they need to match in every possible way the person using them. Oscar searched the
Journal officiel
, the official gazette of the French republic, for a suitable history. Then, using the stolen prefect’s official seal, and his newly acquired skills at forgery, he created the birth certificate
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