My War in Two Armies: Part 8 of 10 - Return Home from Gibraltar

There was naturally strict security concerning the movement of shipping, and the blackout and other war-time precautions were very much in force in Gibraltar at the time. News of our departure came rather suddenly on the 28th December when we were told to stand by for six hours in the late afternoon. The following day we were taken to the dock area for embarkation aboard the MS Batory a Polish luxury liner now in the service of the Allies and used as a troop ship.

The embarking operation was a long business, as the large number of service personnel and civilian refugees had to be ferried out to the liner at anchor some distance from the quayside. There was much activity on the ship itself which had been converted to carry several times its normal passenger load. Wooden bunks and army blankets seemed to occupy every inch of space available. The large lounges and restaurants had been transformed into dormitories and refectories. Each one of us was allocated a place and we were glad to settle down with our few belongings. Lifejackets were issued to everyone and we were told where to muster in the event of an emergency; there was of course no smoking permitted on deck after dark.

It was not until the 31st December at 6 o’clock in the evening that we left Gibraltar. It was a dark but clear night and an escort of a Royal Navy destroyer and a corvette were waiting for us in the bay on the eastern side of the Rock, which appeared like a gigantic dark mass once we had sailed some distance away from it. I stayed on deck with some of my pals enjoying the fresh night air and watching the diminishing shape of Gibraltar as we entered the straits between the southern coast of Spain and North Africa. The Batory was now proceeding at high speed towards the Atlantic against a strong head-wind. Our two escorts could be seen some half a mile away from us; they would occasionally change positions, sometimes preceding us, sometimes following or running parallel to our course, but always ready to intercept any attempt by German U-boats to attack our heavily-laden ship. The large number of passengers aboard was accounted for by the fact that the Batory had previously called at Lisbon, where refugees from occupied countries had been taken aboard. Among the passengers were civilians of various European nationalities, members of the British and foreign armed forces, evacuated Gibraltarians and a number of Italian and German prisoners-of-war.

Fortunately the voyage, which lasted about four days, was uneventful. Life-jackets were worn at all times and we had some lifeboat drill. Our course took us well into the Atlantic out of the range of German coastal aircraft operating from western France. We had two days of rough weather when our escorting vessels would all but disappear in the deep waves of the Atlantic swell. As we approached the coast of Northern Ireland we had the additional escort of an RAF Coastal Command Short Sunderland flying-boat.

None of us knew our port of arrival until we reached Scotland and were sailing up the Clyde. We finally dropped anchor off Gourock, where we arrived at 6pm on the 4th January 1942. Our ship remained in the Clyde for the next few days and I was not to disembark until the 8th January. With such a large number of people on board, many of whom had no identification documents, not to mention passports, the sorting out operations by the security and immigration authorities took a considerable time. Members of HM forces and British civilians whose papers were in order were the first to leave the ship. Everyone had to have a medical examination before landing and this alone accounted for at least one whole day’s waiting.

On the 6th January I had another questioning session with one of the security officers, and since I had no official British identity document I was classified as a French national and told that the question of my nationality would have to be resolved in London. By the time the various formalities were complete, all civilians on the ship had a label tied to them indicating their nationality. We were not allowed to communicate by cable or letter with relations or friends ashore. As and when groups of people had been cleared they were ferried across to Gourock. My turn came at about 6pm on the 8th January and I had by then lost sight of my pals, all of whom had already landed.

After we had been through customs examination at Gourock Harbour station we told to board a waiting train, which had a military escort guarding all doors of every coach. The train left Gourock at 7pm and made the journey to London without stopping. We arrived the next morning 9th January at 8 o’clock at Addison Road station (now Kensington Olympia). From here we were taken by private buses to the Empress Hall, close to West Brompton Underground station. The large building which used to be a skating rink before the war was now surrounded by a steel wire fence and closely guarded by police and soldiers. Inside, the huge oval arena had been transformed into a reception centre for foreign refugees. Eating and sleeping facilities were situated in the central hall; washing rooms and a medical room were also provided.

On arrival we were provided with breakfast and afterwards we were given the opportunity of having a bath during which all our clothing was taken away for examination. Everyone’s personal baggage was examined by customs and security officers. There must have been some 200 civilians of various European nationalities and I was probably the only one who could claim British nationality.

During the 13 days I was in the Empress Hall I made several attempts, through a Foreign Office official who was there, to obtain a quicker release, but I was told that there was nothing which could be done and that I should have to wait until my turn came to be cleared and allowed to “land”. It was a very frustrating experience to find myself so close to home, especially as I was not even permitted to write or to telephone my mother just to say that I had arrived safely. There was an almost daily departure of people from the Empress Hall for some other destination, until only a few of us remained.

Finally on the 22nd January my turn came to leave the Empress Hall with the last of the refugees. We were taken in army lorries to the Royal Patriotic School in Wandsworth (close to the Common), a large Victorian building standing in its own spacious grounds. Formerly a school for girls it was now a clearing centre for refugees. It was here that final permission to land (or not to land) was given, after much interrogation by security officers. I was somewhat less disheartened when I arrived there, as I felt that this was surely the last place I should have to go before being free. Many of the people I had seen at the Empress Hall were still waiting at the school although they had left before me. There were also a large number of people I had never seen before. Most of the nationalities present were Poles, Belgians, Dutch, French and Yugoslavs and there were also a number of stateless people. Those awaiting their turn to be cleared passed away the time in various ways: reading, playing cards, chess etc. People of the same nationality usually kept together, most of them were here to join their country’s free forces in Britain. There was of course the possibility that a German agent or two may try to smuggle through as refugees and this explained the tight security measures which were enforced.

During my stay at Wandsworth I was able to send one letter home which had to be censored before posting. I had four interviews for questioning about myself and my experiences in France during the occupation.

On the 27th January 1942 after a final interview with one of the immigration officers, I was handed a certificate which said that “The bearer, Maurice Vila who states that he is of British nationality, is permitted to land at London”. I was also given the opportunity of telephoning Mother. At 7 o’clock that same evening I left Wandsworth by taxi with my belongings packed in a kit-bag and a small suitcase. Half an hour later I arrived home and to my great happiness I found Mother, Barbara and Ann, all of them well in spite of the anxiety of the times and I was able to hear the latest news of Jean from whom I had not heard for several months.

It was not until late in 1945 that I received news of what had happened to my friends in France after my departure from Pau in October 1941.

In November 1945, while in Huddersfield and after a visit in September to the French Railways offices in London where I saw Louis Vauchez, I wrote to José Emeric in Paris and he replied by return saying:

"It is with pleasure that I received your letter of the 20th November to which I hasten to reply.

I am glad to hear that you returned safely to England and I presume that you are in good health since you do not mention this. As for me, I am much better. I have regained 5½ stones and I am now as I was before the war. I have spent five months in the mountains and on the Côte d’Azur with my dear wife. Since the 5th November I am back at work and for two months (November and December) I am attending the Railways’ School of Traffic in Bercy. At the moment I am top of the class and hoping to remain there. I shall enter an exam next January for a post in the commercial department and if successful and amongst the first three to pass, I shall attend the school at Lyon for three months, after which I shall sit for higher exams. My application to return to the London office has been favourably received and it is in fact while I am waiting to return that I am attending the schools.

You mentioned that you saw Mr Vauchez in London in September; has the office been reopened, and is Mr Vauchez there now? If not could you give me his home address? Would you also let me know whether London has been badly damaged and have our offices been affected? I recently saw Cartier; he spoke to me about you and asked for your address. I was unable to give it since I did not have it at the time, but with your permission I will send it to him, in case you wish to correspond with one of your companions who survived the German concentration camps. Out of all our friends from Paris and Bordeaux who were involved in cases of espionage and propaganda, only two returned: Dr Chauvenet, who is now in a sanatorium, and me.

Of the 17 who were sentenced to death, I was the only one to escape the penalty, through having denied the “intention” to the end. Out of the three condemned to forced labour, I again was the only one to survive; the other two died in the camps. Dr Chauvenet and the Hospital Colonel were sentenced to prison, both returned but the latter was not involved in the espionage case.

I am giving you below the list of the dead in case you may recall whether you knew them:

Désiré Charles, professor of dancing at place St Sulpice, who died in the camps; and André Donnay, a barrister from Paris, who died on the march.

And here are the names of the 16, with whom I was on trial, and who were executed at Cologne:

Robert Bigoss (was one of the 15 victims for whom a tribute was paid at the Arc de Triomphe on the 11th November and who were buried at the Mont Valérien [Mont Valérien was a fort situated on the western outskirts of Paris where many Frenchmen were executed by firing squad by the Germans during the Second World War] ); Roger Cadin, my friend at the Railways; Charles Domergue, who we used to call the “Chief” at the meetings at St Sulpice; Max Belleville; Picard; Bonny; Dess; André Bergez, the young man from Bordeaux; Silbergue; Guilbaud; Perrot; Pise; Dr Jagello; Stephan; Cousin; and Lepape.

Also Robert Deschamp who committed suicide in Frêsnes Prison [the notorious Frêsnes Prison was transformed by the Germans for detaining political prisoners]; Blanchard the Air Force officer who was executed with some others in connection with another case of espionage; and Dr Kauffman, I understand, is also dead.

You can see that out of your companions in France very few are left. Both Jean Cartier and Jean Bignotti returned, but neither of them was tried - only those committed in espionage or propaganda - nevertheless the others, such as our two Jeans, went through a pretty bad time in the camps.

I conclude hoping that you are quite well and that I shall receive some further news from you and also perhaps of my British friends at the French Railways offices.

My wife joins me in sending you our friendly wishes."

In December 1945, I received a letter from Jean Cartier in Paris, in which he said:

"I have just had a letter from José Emeric giving me your address; you had already given it to me but it got lost in the disarray. My friend, since the time we parted company, many events have happened. I cannot give you a detailed account of the experiences through which I have been but will tell you briefly what happened.

You will remember that we had planned to travel through Spain with the aid of Swiss lorries - well that scheme was unsuccessful. We got ourselves arrested at the frontier (I was the only one to escape). Poupault, Bignotti and Blanchard were bound over to the French police. They were prosecuted but later acquitted on a benefit of the doubt verdict. In spite of this acquittal we were watched by the police. We did try other methods and in the process travelled throughout the whole of unoccupied France but all was in vain.

After our return to Paris at the beginning of December 1941, many arrests were made in the Organisation and I was obliged to go into hiding. On the 14th March 1942, I was to have received some papers which were to enable me to leave. I had the misfortune however of being arrested while in a bar on the 11th March, as a result of a denunciation. Bignotti had already been arrested on the 19th January, Emeric on the 6th March. Blanchard was arrested at the same time as me. We were imprisoned at Frêsnes and on the 9th October 1942 we were all taken to Germany.

To tell you what we suffered would be superfluous of course - you have no doubt been made aware of what happened in concentration camps. It was a miracle that I and a few of my friends returned from these death camps. Most of our companions who were arrested have died, either by execution or as a result of bad treatment. I will not mention their names, only that of Blanchard, who you knew well - he was executed in February 1944. You were very lucky to have got through; how often I have thought of you, the only one to have succeeded in leaving. I hope that you did not have too bad a time and that short of seeing you in France, you will be good enough to write.

Have you found all your family and what did you do when you got back to England? You may perhaps have given details when you wrote to Emeric. By the way, I omitted to tell you that I personally handed the documents you entrusted me with to the people you knew in Toulouse.

I’ll end here by sending you my best wishes for Christmas and the New Year, which I hope will be a better one than those we have just been through."

In a subsequent letter written in January 1946, Jean Cartier told me that Dr Poupault had also been arrested, but not until 1943. He had organised an intelligence service, had been deported to Germany but was one of the lucky ones to have returned. He was now living in Paris.

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