French version here
I have not been a war victim as so many have been. But my parents and
I did suffer in Paris from 2 September 1939 to 8 May 1945,
and being a 'real' Parisian you can be sure that I was
present at the delirious celebrations of our deliverence in
the 'Champs Elysees'.
We remembered that fateful day, the 14 June 1940, the day of the entry of the German army in Paris...
Even till the day before, Parisians were saying that it was 'a load of
manure': the 'boches' at the doors of the capital? Impossible! But
it rained, black rain, making even cherries from our own garden
uneatable, our clothes and umbrellas stained forever: the tankers of
fuel surrounding Paris were on fire.
On the 14 June, 'they' were really there. I will see them marching
until my last day, as I first saw them, alone on the sidewalk of the
'Boulevard Haussmann' at 8am, going to my office. 'They'
were parading. Neat. Impeccable. Looking straight ahead
of them, ignoring all. Again at midday, 'they' were
parading. The evening 'they' were parading; and the
following day; and two days later, 'they' were parading!!!
With horror, we watched them. And just that evening, two
officers came to make contact with my Father because he was
Director of water supplies for the town.
The next week, the whole of Paris and its suburbs were occupied and
all shops were emptied. They paid, they were correct, but the 'lack
of anything and everything' had arrived and settled and lasted more
than 5 years... becoming worse each day. Coupons appeared for
everything: bread, meat, grocery, clothes, coal...
In fact, if you look at my last ration-book(23kb image), you can see that the rationing lasted for about ten years!(until 1949)
We were hungry, we were cold. Parisians went into the public squares
to gather chestnuts, dead leaves, branches, any wood that we could
burn, in houses built without chimneys, in home-made braziers we made
with old tins and flower-pots that radiated a little heat, with the
smoke evacuated by a pipe led out of the kitchen window. Soon the
fronts of apartments were stuffed with these makeshift chimneys and
stained by soot of all colors.
The black market was born. Everything could be bought or sold. I had
colleagues who sold their wedding-ring to buy the food for their
husband or son, in captivity or taken away.
In addition to these dark days of a lack of everything, there were
bombings... Most unforgettable to me was that of the 3 March 1942,
aimed at the Renault Factory in Boulogne by the RAF which
lasted 2 and a half hours. Eight high explosive bombs of 500kgs (1,000 pounds) each, fell
around our shelter built with skilled hands by my Father who had
served in the "Military Engineers" in 1914.
In 1944 Boulogne was recovering from its wounds, but the
railway complexes, such as La Chapelle, Noisy-le-Sec etc...
were the 'target of the day' and especially the target of
American flying fortresses 'carpet bombing' which was even
more rapid and destructive.
Then came the 6th of June 1944 and the landings in Normandy. But that is another story.
