Sisters, Secrets and Sacrifice: The True Story of WWII Special Agents Eileen and Jacqueline Nearne

Francis was still a rather nervous young man. He believed that the difficulties he had faced after arriving in France as a child, and the fact that the education he had received had been rather poor, had resulted in him being unable to secure a good job that would allow him to look after his wife and child properly. Because of his nervous disposition he had been unable to hold down any job for very long but had been getting along quite well in his last position as a salesman for a stationery company, Maison Marassi, until it had closed soon after the start of the war because the manager was Jewish. Francis, like the rest of his family, had remained British and, as a foreigner, had also been made to live in a residence forcée, but he had been allowed to go into Grenoble every day, where the company for which he had worked was located. The closure of the business had created problems for him, as he had barely been able to support himself and his family on the meagre wages he had received, even with the help of 2,600 francs that he received from the Swiss consulate in Lyons,5 and without the wages, his life and the lives of his wife and child had had to change drastically. He was also acutely aware that he was the only one of the four siblings not to be doing anything for the war effort. He decided that the time had come for him to join the fight against the Nazis and agreed to Jacqueline’s proposal. She reassured him that if he did become a courier he would be looked after and that she would be the one to allocate the work he undertook. She would be his contact in the circuit and would arrange all the meetings that he had with members of the group so that no one would have to know his true identity, nor he theirs, and the safety of his family would not be compromised.

Because of Maurice Southgate’s complete confidence and trust in Jacqueline he had no problem with her brother becoming a part-time courier for the Stationer circuit. So Francis was given the name Jacques Perrier, was issued with a fake French identity card and began his new work. Using the code name Jacques, he passed messages between members of the circuit, carried equipment for wireless operators of the sub-circuits all over the area when they moved to new addresses, and collected explosives which he delivered to the saboteurs in the group for their attacks on factories and railway yards. He worked mainly in the southern part of the country, in the area between Grenoble, Vichy and Clermont-Ferrand, and usually travelled by train. Sometimes he took Thérèse and Jack with him, having observed that families were far less likely to be caught up in police raids on trains than adults travelling alone. It was not difficult work but it was extremely dangerous, and Francis was always very careful about covering his tracks. In case of police raids, when he had a parcel to carry he would put it in an overhead rack and then stand in the corridor of the train or take a seat in another compartment so that should a raid take place he could walk away from the offending package. When it came to leaving a station building, he would deposit his baggage in the corner of the buffet or ticket hall and then check what controls there were at the exit gate. If there was no control, he would return to his luggage and bring it through the gate; if there was even a hint of a check being made at the station exit, his plan was to leave the package where he had deposited it and walk through the gate empty handed. He was fortunate in never having to do this and attributed it to sheer good luck, as he had often seen these checks taking place before becoming a courier himself.6

Francis was only once the subject of an investigation while working for the Stationer circuit. This was on a train when the German authorities came through the carriages asking passengers for their papers. Francis had both British and French identity cards, and carried a letter of safe conduct that identified him as a foreigner living in France. It was this he showed the Germans and that made them suspicious, and when the train pulled into the station at Lyons they handed Francis over to the French police. He had been able to hide his forged French card from the Germans by placing it in between the pages of the newspaper he had been reading, and he managed to retrieve it and hand it over to the policeman. Francis believed it to be an excellent forgery and it obviously was, as the French officer could find no fault with it and immediately released him.

Jacqueline had made arrangements for her brother to stay with the Nerault family at 37 rue Blatin in Clermont-Ferrand that evening. The Neraults’ home was a large apartment in an elegant building five storeys high, with shuttered windows and fancy wrought-iron balconies, close to a busy crossroads. She herself had lived there for some months after her arrival from England. She had told him that she would meet his train and take him to rue Blatin herself, so after his release he went back to the station and hopped on another train for Clermont-Ferrand. He had no more problems during the journey and Jacqueline was waiting for him at the station. As they always were with agents seeking refuge, the Neraults were very welcoming and gave Francis a comfortable bed and a feeling of security at being in a family home once more.

By September he was gaining confidence in his ability and felt that he was, at last, doing something worthwhile – something of which he could be proud; he felt better about himself than he had done for a long while. After having completed another successful mission late one afternoon he was looking forward to meeting up with Jacqueline the following evening. When he went to bed, he slept very well. So well, in fact, that it was ten o’clock the next morning before a loud noise woke him. When he realized what it was, he was terrified but he managed to slip noiselessly out of his bed, creep across the floor and lock the bedroom door. The sound that had interrupted his slumber was of a Gestapo raid. If caught, he knew he would not be able to escape.7

On the other side of his bedroom door he could hear several loud voices barking out orders in German. Doors were banging, and drawers and cupboards were being opened, followed by the sound of things being flung on the floor. In between the strident, guttural tones of the Germans were the quieter voices of his hosts. He didn’t understand the Germans and couldn’t hear what the Neraults were saying, but he knew he had to get out immediately. But how? He couldn’t think how to do it without giving away his presence in the apartment. He dressed quickly and put what few belongings he had into his small bag, all the while trying to calm himself and consider what would be his best course of action. The room had a window but there was no way he could make his escape through it. He quickly had to admit to himself that the only way he would survive would be by going through the apartment’s front door and out into the street below. It was a terrifying thought but he had no other choice. So, hardly daring to breathe, he waited until he sensed that the Germans had moved into another room across the hall. Then he carefully turned the key in the lock of his bedroom door and, pushing it open a fraction, peered into the hallway. It was empty. Before his courage failed him, he crept across the floor, opened the outer front door, and made his way down the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could, praying that he wouldn’t meet any Germans on the stairway or outside on the street. He reached the courtyard at the back of the apartment block, and then cautiously made his way through the arch and into the street, only pausing for breath when he was well away from the building.

He had never been so frightened in his entire life and couldn’t stop shaking. Over and over again he thought about the kind family who had offered hospitality to so many people without a thought for their own safety, in the knowledge that they could soon be taken away by their German captors and might never be seen again. He wondered if the Neraults’ teenage daughter, Colette, had been at home at the time, or the couple’s small son, Jean. Thoughts of the boy made him shake anew, for he realized that if he had been caught the Germans might have arrested his wife, Thérèse, and two-year-old son, Jack, as well. He loved them both dearly but didn’t think that he would be able to withstand German interrogation or torture, and suffered agonies thinking that his actions could have condemned them.

Then he remembered that he was supposed to meet his sister at the apartment that evening and he began to panic once more. He didn’t know where she was and couldn’t warn her not to come. In fact, in his panic, he couldn’t think of anyone that he could contact to tell what had happened. Finally, he resolved to return to rue Blatin and wait for Jacqueline to arrive so that he could warn her.

Retracing his steps, Francis eventually found himself outside the apartment building again. He watched it from a discreet distance, and from the comings and goings of other residents concluded that the Gestapo had left. By nightfall he had steeled himself enough to enter the building and search the flat to see if anything important had been left behind. He found nothing except the wreckage of the family’s home and belongings, and hoped that they had managed to destroy anything incriminating before the Gestapo had broken into the apartment. He met the concierge and had a few words with her. She confirmed that there had been five Gestapo men in the raiding party, and that M. and Mme Nerault and their daughter had all been at home and had been arrested and taken away. She did not know where they were being kept or what had happened to the boy.

Francis left and again positioned himself outside so as to be able to see Jacqueline before she entered the building. Twelve hours after the raid had begun he was horrified to see the Germans arrive yet again and go back into the apartment. They remained there for four agonizing hours while Francis kept watch for his sister’s arrival.8 She didn’t turn up and by the time the Germans left again at two o’clock the next morning he realized that she must have found out about the raid. Exhausted, he hid in an outhouse, where he remained for the rest of the night. In the morning, having had a little rest and feeling slightly calmer, he managed to contact Jacqueline.

CHAPTER 5

Broken Promises

With the terror of the Gestapo raid haunting him, Francis began once more to suffer badly from his nerves. The self-confidence that had been growing with every mission he had successfully completed vanished and he shrank inside himself all over again. Then came the news via Maria, the concierge of the Nerault family’s apartment block, that she had received a letter, written in German supposedly by a family friend, to say that M. Nerault was in Germany, and that he was well and able to receive food parcels. Soon afterwards a card arrived from Mme Nerault and Colette, also saying that they were in a camp in Germany but giving no actual location. Whether or not these were genuinely from the family was unknown, but Maria chose to believe that they were and consoled herself with the thought that at least they had not been shot. This proved to be of no comfort to Francis, who still tortured himself with thoughts of what had happened to them, and what might have happened to his wife and son if he too had been caught. He was sure that Thérèse and Jack would have been targeted because his wife knew about his undercover role.

Despite Jacqueline’s best efforts she could not help her brother. He was so tense and worried that he couldn’t function effectively and, much as he wanted to, was no longer able to undertake any courier missions. Jacqueline was so concerned that she enlisted the help of Maurice Southgate. He was sympathetic towards Francis and did not want to lose his services as, until this setback, he had been a most reliable and trustworthy courier. He contacted Baker Street with a request that Francis be sent to London for training and to enable him to receive some medical help for his bad nerves. He stressed that he was sure that, given the right treatment, Francis would regain his self-confidence and be able to resume his courier work. Then he, Jacqueline and Francis waited to hear what London would decide.

Back in England, Didi was unaware of her siblings’ problems and was delighted with the news she received in the autumn of 1943. After her countless attempts to persuade her bosses to release her from her listening station, she was told at last that she was going to be sent for training as an agent. Buckmaster had broken his promise to Jacqueline and decided to send Didi to France where, he hoped, she would be as effective in the field as her sister.

Quite why he had chosen this moment to release Didi from her mundane work is not recorded. Jacqueline had made it quite clear to both him and Vera Atkins that she was strongly opposed to Didi going to France; and she, after all, knew her sister better than anyone. She had stressed her sister’s naivety, and her lack of experience in many aspects of life. She had never doubted Didi’s courage, but she felt that she had perhaps looked at the role of an agent through rose-coloured glasses and that when faced with the reality of the situation, she might find herself out of her depth – and by then it would be too late.

The pragmatic view might be that here was a young woman, fluent in French and English, completely used to the French way of life and eager to return to her homeland to do her bit. Was it not ridiculous for Buckmaster to waste this valuable resource simply because of a promise made to the girl’s sister? Perhaps so, but if Jacqueline was right and her sister wasn’t up to the task, Buckmaster would have to answer not only for his deception but also his own bad judgement. With Jacqueline preoccupied by her own heavy workload and her concern for the welfare of Francis, he perhaps hoped to have Didi well into her training course before her sister got wind of what was happening back in England.

The whole situation was becoming a tangled web of deceit, as Didi was still not aware that her sister had extracted the promise from Buckmaster to keep her in England; nor did she know that the age restriction that Jacqueline had told her about was a lie. She was just very excited that she would soon be in France, like her sister, and was impatient to start the training course.

Before long she was released from Bingham’s Unit and transferred to the SOE French section of the FANY. Having already learnt Morse code and worked in the listening station it was felt that all she now needed was a finishing course, and for this she was sent to a house called the Drokes on the Beaulieu estate in the New Forest, in a party numbered 27.OB.1 Unlike the finishing courses for couriers, this one, for wireless operators, not only concentrated on the security aspects of the role but also allowed time for the students to study and practise the technicalities of transmitting and receiving messages every day, to ensure that the transmissions were sent swiftly and efficiently and that the messages being received could be quickly understood. Speed was of the essence for a wireless operator.

A new syllabus had come into being a month before Didi’s course began. It was not extensive but it highlighted one or two things that might not have occurred to a novice wireless operator. It said of a wireless operator, for example, that ‘Other agents should not go to his residence or place of operation. It is even better if they do not contact him direct.’ Since most people crave the company of others, especially when they are feeling frightened or stressed, it would seem natural to seek out other agents who would understand the pressures of the job, but it would be unsafe for all concerned. The syllabus went on to decree that a wireless operator ‘Should live with friends as key-taps [are] audible’. This, of course, made a difficult task even trickier. On the one hand the agent was rightly being told that he or she should not have much contact at all with other members of the circuit and on the other that they should live with friends to reduce the risk of the tapping of Morse code being heard by strangers. Where they were supposed to find these friends if they were not to have much contact with their colleagues appears not to have been considered. It was certainly dangerous to assume that friends from outside the Resistance groups, even if they had been known to the operator for many years, could be relied upon in dangerous situations. The Germans had ways of turning the most patriotic French citizens into collaborators, and the most devoted friends into enemies. They only had to threaten the friend or his family with torture or a horrible death to make the friendship untenable. Like many ideas that look good on paper, in practice it didn’t work, and many wireless operators found themselves living solitary and boring existences while in France.

The part of the syllabus that told each operator about their own specific plan to which he or she must adhere was also flawed. This plan, or ‘sked’, as it was known, meant that even if there were an urgent message to be sent, the operator could only transmit it at one of two scheduled times each day. For London this made sense. It ensured that Baker Street could keep a check on its agents and, when messages were sent hurriedly and sometimes came through garbled, it enabled those decoding the transmission to sort out what was actually being said by applying their own knowledge of who it was that had sent it and what the general situation in the circuit concerned had been. On the downside the regular broadcast and reception times gave the enemy, who used fairly sophisticated direction-finding equipment, the knowledge of when to expect an operator to be transmitting. This made it far easier for them to locate the place from which the broadcast was being sent. To circumvent this danger, agents were told to ‘constantly move set and/or aerial’. This again seemed sensible until one realized quite how difficult it was to find a safe house from which to transmit. Having several places was an almost unheard of luxury. Didi, who worked hard on her course, was yet to discover the anomalies of the security training she was receiving.

Having completed the course at the end of January 1944, she was confident that she had done her very best. She felt that she had benefited from the training and she had enjoyed the company of her fellow students. She knew that her ability with Morse code was good, and she was in no doubt that her final report would be fine and that she would soon be leaving for her new life in France. She wondered what part of the country she would be sent to, with whom she would be working and what her new life would be like. But when Colonel Buckmaster received her final report, he was not pleased by what it said.

The report, dated 26 January 1944, was written by 36-year-old Major John H. Wedgwood (the great-great-great-grandson of Josiah Wedgwood, the master potter), who said:

She is not very intelligent or practical and is lacking in shrewdness and cunning. She has a bad memory, is inaccurate and scatterbrained. She seems keen but her work was handicapped by lack of the power to concentrate.

In character she is very ‘feminine’ and immature; she seems to lack all experience of the world and would probably be easily influenced by others.

She is lively and amusing and has considerable charm and social gifts. She talks a lot and is anxious to draw attention to herself, but was generally liked by the other students.

It is doubtful whether this student is suitable for employment in any capacity on account of her lack of experience.

Had any of Didi’s friends been able to read this report, they would have been puzzled. It was simply not a true reflection of the caring friend they knew and loved. Her family would not have recognized what had been written about Didi either. Jacqueline thought of her sister as being the odd one out in the family but not because she was frivolous, attention seeking or unintelligent: quite the opposite. She was sometimes playful and light-hearted but she also had a serious side, she was very intelligent and her whole life was directed by her religious beliefs. The report was so scornful that it was difficult not to think that Major Wedgwood either had a personal dislike of Didi or perhaps had mistaken her for someone else, as unlikely as that seemed. A second reading of the offending document, however, would have revealed that he understood some aspects of her character. He, like Jacqueline and Captain Jepson, who had conducted Didi’s initial interview for the SOE, had recognized her immaturity and her inexperience; those close to her would also have acknowledged that she was lively and amusing. But not only was Wedgwood completely off the mark when he said that she was anxious to draw attention to herself but his opinion that Didi would probably be easily influenced by others was just that – an opinion – and had no real basis in fact. Perhaps the only person who would have been able to influence Didi to any extent was her sister and, despite being in France, Jacqueline would not be working with her.

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