'For Their Own Good': Civilian Evacuations in Germany and France, 1939-1945 9781845458164

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“F T O G”

“For Their Own Good” Civilian Evacuations in Germany and France, 1939–1945

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Julia S. Torrie

berghahn NEW YORK • OXFORD www.berghahnbooks.com

First published in 2010 by

Berghahn Books www.berghahnbooks.com

©2010, 2014 Julia S. Torrie First paperback edition published in 2014 All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission of the publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Torrie, Julia S., 1973–   “For their own good” : civilian evacuations in Germany and France, 1939–1945 / Julia S. Torrie.     p.  cm.    Includes bibliographical references and index.    ISBN 978-1-84545-725-9 (hardback) -- ISBN 978-1-78238-390-1 (paperback) -- ISBN 978-1-84545-816-4 (ebook)   1. World War, 1939–1945—Evacuation of civilians—Germany.  2. World War, 1939–1945—Evacuation of civilians—France.  3. World War, 1939–1945—Aerial operations.  4. Bombing, Aerial—Social aspects—Germany—History—20th century. 5. Bombing, Aerial—Social aspects—France—History—20th century.  6. Germany— History—1933–1945.  7. France—History—German occupation, 1940–1945.  I. Title.   D809.G3T67 2010   940.53’16—dc22 2009025426 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Printed on acid-free paper ISBN: 978-1-78238-390-1 paperback ISBN: 978-1-84545-816-4 ebook

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 List of Illustrations

vi

Abbreviations

vii

Acknowledgements

viii

I

1

 . P  A W

13

 . O  C

31

 . O E

50

 . O S G U N P

73

 . I O F U C B M

94

 . O  B  S

128

 . R  C

151

 . E’ A

167

Notes

181

Note on Sources

242

Bibliography

244

Index

261

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 1.1. Germany Threatened by Enemy Aircraft

23

2.1. German Soldiers Feed French Civilians

42

4.1. With Open Arms!

77

4.2. From the City to the Land

79

5.1. Gauleiter Hofmann in Baden

107

7.1. Evacuation Plan for Greater Cherbourg (25 Nov. 1943)

153

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 3.1. Projected Participants, Berlin and Hamburg KLV (27 Sept. 1940)

55

3.2. Designated German Reception Areas (19 Apr. 1943)

58

3.3. Designated French Reception Areas (4 Feb. 1943)

65

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 AA AN AD Calvados AD Cantal AD Eure AD Manche AD Orne AD Seine-Maritime ADP BA BA-MA C.O.S.I. DAF DDK DR GLAKHE HstAD IHTP J.O. LK PGDR NSV NSDAP SD S.I.P.E.G. Sopade StAM RSHA USSBS WLZ

Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amtes Archives Nationales, Paris Archives Départementales du Calvados, Caen Archives Départementales du Cantal, Aurillac Archives Départementales de l’Eure, Evreux Archives Départementales de la Manche, Saint-Lô Archives Départementales de l’Orne, Alençon Archives Départementales de la Seine-Maritime, Rouen Archives de Paris Bundesarchiv Berlin-Lichterfelde Bundesarchiv-Militärarchiv, Freiburg Comité Ouvrier de Secours Immédiat Deutsche Arbeitsfront Dokumente deutscher Kriegsschäden Direction des Réfugiés Generallandesarchiv Karlsruhe Nordrhein-Westfälisches Hauptstaatsarchiv, Düsseldorf Institut d’Histoire du Temps Présent Journal Officiel Interministerielle Luftkriegsschädenausschuß Ministère des Prisonniers, Déportés et Réfugiés Nationalsozialistische Volkswohlfahrt Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei Sicherheitsdienst Service Interministériel de Protection contre les Évènements de Guerre Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands im Exil Nordrhein-Westfälisches Staatsarchiv, Münster Reichssicherheitshauptamt United States Strategic Bombing Survey Westfälische Landeszeitung

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

I

have received assistance on this project from many quarters. Above all, I would like to thank Charles Maier, David Blackbourn, and Susan Pedersen. All three have been unfailingly patient, critical, and encouraging as this work evolved from the original proposal into this book. Generous funding from various sources made the project possible. In particular, fellowships from the German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD) and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada supported a year and a half of archival research in France and Germany. This research was supplemented by shorter trips funded by the Krupp Foundation and the Minda de Gunzburg Center for European Studies at Harvard University. The Center for European Studies also gave me ten months of financial support to finish writing. Since then, St. Thomas University has helped me attend several international conferences and given me release time from teaching to revise my work. I am grateful to the staff of the archives and libraries I visited in France and Germany, particularly for help in gaining access to restricted material. Without the kindness of individuals too numerous to name, important documents would have escaped my notice. As the project developed, a number of people gave me suggestions for further reading, hints on rough drafts, and moral support. Robert Gellately has encouraged and inspired me since my undergraduate years. More recently, Roger Chickering, Sarah Fishman, Peter Fritzsche, Marcus Funck, Susan Grayzel, Ulrich Herbert, Patrice Higonnet, Robert Moeller, Adelheid von Saldern, Nathan Stoltzfus, and Dominique Veillon have made valuable suggestions on different segments of the project. While in Berlin in 1999, I was able to join a Doktoranden Kolloquium at the Zentrum für Vergleichende Geschichte Europas at the Free University, under the supervision of Christoph Conrad. I would like to thank him and Gunilla Budde for helping to arrange my participation in the colloquium. On this side of the Atlantic, I am indebted to the members of the European History Graduate Workshop at Harvard’s Center for European Studies, particularly Rebecca Bennette, Eric Kurlander, and David Meskill, who read and commented on drafts of two chapters. The insightful comments of the participants in the Seventh Transatlantic Doctoral Seminar at the German Historical Institute in Washington, DC, helped me turn a short paper into the Witten case study below. Other sections of the work have benefited from the wide-ranging knowledge

A E ix

of anonymous reviewers, panel participants, and commentators. In the last few years, my generous colleagues in the History Department at St. Thomas University have, often without knowing it, contributed expertise from their diverse fields to segments of the manuscript. My efficient research assistant Armin Musterle helped arrange permission to reproduce various images used in the work. The encouragement and support of many friends has been important. The Brinkmann family, in particular, has been kind and hospitable to me over many years. I am deeply grateful to my parents Amelia and James Torrie, my sister Catherine, Frédéric, Eloïse, and the rest of my family, all of whom have contributed in countless ways to the completion of this work.

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War everywhere necessitates interventions into the personal freedom of the individual in favour of the community. —Nazi Party representative in Düsseldorf, 19421 I can still keep my children wherever I want to. After all, they’re still my children. —German citizen’s anonymous comment, recorded by the Sicherheitsdienst, 19432

W

   ? At their most basic, they are wartime measures that save lives by removing non-combatants from vulnerable areas. Although they are essentially positive endeavours with a laudable goal, they challenge nations’ transportation and accommodation capacities, and require governments to intrude into the lives of millions of civilians. In many ways, evacuations are huge social welfare programs, for governments must convince people to leave their homes, transfer them to safer areas, and look after their financial, physical, and psychological well-being. Those involved in evacuations dislike them, because they banish unhappy city-dwellers to rural backwaters, provoke homesickness and unease, and turn one segment of the population into the unwelcome long-term “guests” of another. Most unsettlingly, evacuations divide families, sending children and mothers away to the countryside while other family members stay home to work. Societies at war must make choices: who will be evacuated, and where? How long will the transfers last, and how often will displaced individuals be able to visit their homes? Will popular preferences be allowed to determine any part of the process? Evacuations balance delicately on the borders between state paternalism, coercion, and public tolerance. Against a backdrop of war and occupation, evacuations offer a new forum to explore the interplay of Germany and France. These measures draw attention to the negotiated, improvised quality of the German occupation, an ongoing process that played itself out in the context of prewar relations and longer-term trends.

2 E C E  G  F, –

Evacuations in both countries show how civilians and governments interacted over policies that seemed necessary, yet were unwelcome and difficult to impose. Popular opposition to population transfers, which was rooted in family concerns, highlights the importance of the family as a source of noncompliance in authoritarian regimes. Evacuees’ refusal to toe the line limited the authorities’ exercise of power. Evacuations remained marked by the regimes sponsoring them, and though they appeared to be open to all French and German citizens, only well-behaved members of the “national community” were included. German and French war relief relied directly on the oppression of those who, like Jews, “asocials,” or the mentally ill, were not considered “worthy” of the state’s assistance. Evacuations became a privilege, not a right. Civilian evacuations began in late August 1939, just before World War II. French and German border populations were removed from their homes to make room for troop movements, limit exposure to enemy fire, and avoid occupation. Children and their mothers also left vulnerable cities in the interior. Preemptive evacuations continued throughout the war, although from the summer of 1943, population transfers in the wake of air raids became more important than those occurring in advance. Despite ongoing efforts to organize and direct evacuees, the improvised character of evacuations came to the fore as time went on. In France in 1940 and 1944, and Germany from mid 1944 onward, organized evacuations broke down completely as civilians fled before an advancing battle front. The massive, chaotic aspects of these events distinguished them from other evacuations, but at the same time they shared many characteristics of more orderly population transfers. All three types of evacuations—preemptive, reactive, and emergency—are considered here. Evacuations continued as long as the fighting did, ending in 1944 in France and 1945 in Germany. The war’s end left many evacuees far from home, with some unable to return to their native cities before several years had passed. The present study focuses on Germany and France during World War II, but also considers the prewar discourse on evacuation and, briefly, the postwar fate of evacuees. The German government estimated that nearly 9 million citizens had been evacuated by the state or had evacuated themselves as of 11 January 1945. This figure did not include special children’s programs that added at least another 2 million to the total. It also left out displacements between early January 1945 and the end of the war in Europe, in May. The true number of German evacuees was therefore probably upwards of 12 million. A year earlier, in January 1944, French authorities had counted about 1 million evacuees in France, although by August 1944, after battle had again swept through the country, there were as many as 2 million displaced individuals of all kinds. In 1940, as a result of the German Blitzkrieg advance, France had temporarily been swamped by at least 7 million displaced persons.3 Evacuations affected many millions of civilians in these two countries alone and were an integral, if little studied, part of the war experience.

I E 3

This book focuses on evacuations in two countries for several reasons. First, air war itself paid little attention to national boundaries, and since France was occupied by Germany for most of World War II, French evacuations cannot be elucidated without reference to Germany. At the same time, experiences in France helped shape measures inside the Reich. Before the war, policies in each country were molded by the perceived threat of the other. Later, during the occupation, German officials viewed the two areas as parts of one whole. National differences continued to influence evacuations in each country, but neither case can be fully understood without the other. The parallel development of evacuations in these two places sheds light on authoritarian states and their interactions with citizens, on the German occupation of France, and more broadly on FrancoGerman relations. In the interwar period, theorists in Germany and France began to consider how to respond to the air raids that would surely be a major part of the next international conflict. The French favoured evacuations to safeguard civilians’ lives, but Germans rejected these measures as cowardly flight. Instead, they preferred to fortify cities with shelters and flak guns, while strengthening urbanites’ resolve through civil defense training.4 In the years prior to World War II, civil defense policy came to be defined in national terms, and evacuations became the “French” response to an airborne threat, while the “German” alternative was to stand fast in the cities. The tendency to use the other country as a foil for one’s own attitudes continued during the war. When both nations began large-scale civilian evacuations, the prewar juxtaposition of “evacuating” France and “non-evacuating” Germany no longer applied. Germans sought a new model to explain the fact that the Reich also had started evacuating. Those who had witnessed the disorderly mass flight of civilians as Reich armies advanced into Belgium and France now identified individualism as the primary cause. Emphasizing the chaotic and individualistic aspects of the ill-fated French “exodus,” the Germans defended their own programs as foresighted, orderly, and rooted in the good of the community—thus, fundamentally different from the French. A secondary result of this new opposition was to raise the stakes of German evacuations, making it imperative that they actually be orderly and that the whole community participate in making them so. This, in turn, helps explain why popular opposition to evacuation measures, which skyrocketed from 1943, was treated as a great affront by the regime. Disobeying evacuation orders was a sign of individualism, a flaw that would lead to “French” chaos, and ultimately, defeat. The fact that policymakers in Germany and France interpreted evacuations through the mirror of their European neighbour makes it crucial to examine these nations in tandem. More concretely, evacuation policies in Germany and France draw attention to the complicated process of imitation, negotiation, ma-

4 E C E  G  F, –

nipulation, and subtle or less subtle pressure that defined relations between the two countries during the war, and especially during the occupation of France. Sources about evacuation show how French and Germans interacted over what was essentially a “positive” policy with a humanitarian goal, unlike the deportation of the Jews, or the compulsory labour service, which usually have attracted historians’ scrutiny. In order to explore these issues more deeply, I focus on one region of each country. In Germany, heavy bombing over densely crowded urban centers made evacuations an especially pressing concern in the Rhine-Ruhr industrial area. In France, Norman cities with German military installations, such as Le Havre, Cherbourg, and Caen, were targeted by the Allies as early as 1940. The bombing of Normandy continued throughout the war, only to escalate before the Allied Landings in 1944. Belying the comparatively limited extent of actual air war damage in France, large-scale preemptive evacuations of danger zones occurred, especially along the Atlantic and Channel coasts. These prophylactic measures, together with the destruction associated with the Allied Landings, make Normandy the best illustration of the French situation. It is worth noting that the Rhine-Ruhr and Normandy are not intended to be “typical” cases; rather, severe bombing in both places starkly exposed evacuations’ dilemmas. Policymaking tended to be driven by events in these regions, which had ripple effects beyond. More generally, the German and French situations discussed in this book were far from identical. Some 22 percent of Allied bombs were destined for targets in France, and the total number of civilian victims was about a fifth of that of Germany—wartime bombing killed 67,078 French civilians, while 305,000 Germans lost their lives in the same fashion. The British, for their part, lost 60,595 civilians to German bombs, slightly less than the French total.5 Though this work retains elements of a classic comparison of similarities and differences, it is primarily what Heinz-Gerhard Haupt and Jürgen Kocka have called a “relationship study.” The links between French and German civilian evacuations are the main focus as is the interplay of the two nations’ policies.6 Given the danger, and the nature of their regimes, one might have expected that German and French leaders would have had no trouble enforcing whatever evacuation policies they chose. In fact, there were strict limits on what they could demand. Careful negotiation took place between the requirements of the state and the needs of ordinary people, and official plans sometimes had to be altered in response to public protest. Successful evacuations were essential to the war effort, but a poor welcome in the reception areas, uncomfortable conditions, and homesickness made many people wish they had never left their native cities. Especially from the summer of 1943, unhappy evacuees returned from the reception areas without official permission. The authorities in both Germany and France opposed these returns with draconian measures, going so far as to deny ration cards to so-called “wild returnees” (wilde Rückkehrer).

I E 5

Left with little other recourse, civilians used family-based claims to protest government policies. Long-term evacuations threatened family ties, and citizens drew attention to the contradiction between Nazi rhetoric, which prized the family, and rigid evacuations that failed to take families into account. Family-based protest in Germany peaked in October 1943, when some 300 residents of Witten, in the Ruhrgebiet, demonstrated publicly against the denial of ration cards to “wild returnees.” The Witten citizens, and others who returned from the reception areas without permission, compelled the authorities to alter evacuation policies to make them more moderate and family-sensitive. Victoria de Grazia has shown that family concerns frequently underlay popular protest in Mussolini’s Italy. Because the regime placed such a high value on the family, questioning government family policies cast doubt on the regime’s ability to interpret what families really wanted, and at the same time, on its very right to rule. De Grazia uses the term “oppositional familism” to describe the attitudes that fed this kind of protest.7 A similar phenomenon was at work in Germany, where family-based opposition to evacuation measures tested the legitimacy of the regime. Perhaps paradoxically, although evacuations in occupied France were more often compulsory than in Germany, and although French civilians returned home without permission fairly regularly, no open anti-evacuation demonstration like the one at Witten took place. Fear of reprisals may have held some French civilians back, but since hundreds of public demonstrations, mainly against food policy and the compulsory labour service, did occur during the German occupation, an alternate explanation for the lack of French anti-evacuation protests must be sought.8 In part, frustrations over evacuation policy were less volatile in France because fewer people moved away from home and because evacuations tended to be shorter in duration. When there were disagreements over evacuation, notably between the population and the occupation forces, the French government usually interceded, acting as a buffer to absorb tension and negotiate compromises. This buffering role headed off widespread popular opposition to evacuation measures. The most important reason for the French population’s comparatively calm acceptance of evacuation measures, however, was that even under the occupation, French policies took families more into account than German. An albeit sometimes overdrawn distinction between a German emphasis on community and a French emphasis on the family played itself out through the war and occupation, helping to smooth over French civilians’ dislike of evacuation measures.9 Evacuations highlight the power of family-based grievances as a source of opposition in authoritarian states and underline the importance of family concerns in the ongoing dialogue between individuals and government. On the surface, evacuations appeared to be universally available to endangered French or German citizens. In fact, the humanitarian thrust of the measures was

6 E C E  G  F, –

deeply marred by the exclusion of many individuals living in Hitler’s Europe. Evacuation policies overlapped with, and indeed were closely connected to, the racialist and eugenicist programs of the Third Reich. Jews and others who did not belong to the Volksgemeinschaft were not evacuated, and each space this left on trains to rural areas allowed another person, who was a member of the “national community,” to be borne away to safety. In addition to Jews and other “race enemies,” neither the mentally ill, nor so-called “asocials” were considered for evacuation. Any person whose behaviour in the reception areas aroused suspicions of immorality or criminality was sent home. There were additional connections between war relief measures and the oppression of those outside the “national community.” The apartments of deported Jews in France and Germany became housing for bombed-out families. Spoliated furniture was not only shipped across Europe to furnish the offices of the Wehrmacht in the East, but also redistributed locally to bomb victims.10 Psychiatric patients were moved out of urban hospitals so that these facilities could be converted to emergency medical use. By evacuating only “desirable” members of the “national community,” German, and to a lesser but still considerable extent, French authorities, effectively made Allied aerial bombardments serve their own racialist and eugenicist ends. To date, civilian evacuations have been studied mainly in a democratic context, one country at a time. In Britain, Richard Titmuss long ago opened the subject to scholarly scrutiny, but evacuations remain under-researched elsewhere.11 Recent works on the German situation by Gerhard Kock, Michael Krause, and Gregory Schroeder are signs of a growing interest in the field. Kock’s study of the Kinderlandverschickung (KLV), a program specifically for children, argues that the goals of German children’s evacuations lay as much in the indoctrination and formation of young Nazis as in the preservation of their lives. Krause, for his part, identifies the evacuees as a population pressure group, and, focusing on their demands after the end of the war, places them in the context of other temporarily homeless groups, like the refugees of the former German territories in Eastern Europe. Gregory Schroeder likewise examines the postwar period, highlighting arguments evacuees employed in order to speed their return home.12 Beyond these authors, however, research on Germany is limited to small-scale local studies that do not consider the broader implications of civilian evacuations.13 In France, where air war is rarely discussed, historians have focused on the socalled population “exodus” as the Germans advanced in 1940, or described the travails of citizens evacuated and later exiled from occupied Alsace-Lorraine. The Liberation is another carefully chronicled moment of the war in France, and local histories typically mention civilians’ accompanying displacements. Comprehensive works on German occupation and life on the Home Front sometimes refer to evacuations in passing, but none of these studies analytically treat them as a separate subject.14

I E 7

The present work speaks to three specific areas of the vast historiography of war and authoritarianism. First, exploring evacuations contributes to our understanding of the civilian experience of total war, and air war specifically. Second, evacuation measures help elucidate the interaction between ordinary people and authoritarian governments in wartime, as well as the twin issues of popular consent and opposition. Finally, these measures can be used as a lens to bring the German occupation of France into better focus, emphasizing the ground-level interaction of French and German authorities, and bringing Germany back into a historiography that tends to downplay the conqueror’s side of the occupation. The civilian war experience usually has been defined by how urban adult citizens dealt with the traumas of war, but evacuations also draw attention to children’s experiences. For civilians, especially children, transfer to another region of their country for months, or even years, constituted a significant wartime hardship. In addition, evacuation documents shed light on rural life in wartime and the complex urban-rural encounter of evacuees and their hosts.15 Allied air raids and their impact on civilians play a central role in renewed debates about Germans as perpetrators and victims. These debates, which are connected to larger questions about war and memory, typically focus on aerial bombardment itself, leaving evacuations to the periphery.16 Yet evacuations were longer lasting, and defined civilians’ war experience as much, if not more, than the air raids themselves. These measures, which play such a central role in British memories of wartime, are almost absent from the public record in Germany and France. In France, debates about perpetrators and victims are not linked to air war, but rather to the larger issue of collaboration versus resistance during the occupation. The present study highlights the importance of evacuations for these discussions, not only because the measures were an integral part of the war experience, but also because they emphasize the persistent overlap between the categories of victim and perpetrator. Evacuees were both war victims and at the same time, as outlined above, consenting beneficiaries of state policies that oppressed those not considered to be part of the “national community.” Civilians’ reactions to evacuation are strong indicators of wartime morale, which itself was related to the degree of popular consent for the domestic and foreign policies of the government.17 The issue of consent, not only during the war, but also at peace, has long been one of the most compelling questions about the Third Reich. While some scholars have stressed the roles of terror and ideological conformity in limiting popular opposition to the regime, others, such as Ian Kershaw, have emphasized the importance of propaganda and the cult of the Führer in bolstering consent. Without supporting Daniel Goldhagen’s extreme formulation that Germans were “Hitler’s willing executioners,” historians such as Robert Gellately have highlighted the breadth of grassroots support, especially for the negative and repressive policies of the Nazi regime.18

8 E C E  G  F, –

Like mass employment schemes, or marriage bonuses, evacuations helped maximize citizens’ approval for the regime and masked the authorities’ less attractive policies. Evacuations gave civilians the impression that the government was looking after their welfare and became a vehicle for integrating ordinary people into the “national community.” At the same time, these population transfers gave the authorities an entré into normal families, families that might otherwise have remained relatively sheltered from the state’s intrusions. This state presence, along with the mutual surveillance of hosts and evacuees, encouraged conformity with the policies of the regime. The consent-bolstering function of mass organizations like the Deutsche Arbeitsfront (German Workers’ Front) or the Légion Française des Combattants (French Veterans’ Legion) is well-recognized, but historians have paid less attention to the integrative role of charitable organizations, which played a crucial part in tying the population to the government, especially in wartime. Although much of the assistance evacuees received came from the state, “para-governmental” charitable organizations were also instrumental. In Germany, the Nationalsozialistische Volkswohlfahrt (NSV) assisted destitute and traumatized evacuees. In France, the Secours National and the Comité Ouvrier de Secours Immédiat (C.O.S.I.) stepped in. These groups, positioned between ordinary people and the state, provided assistance while also supporting the government and helping to demonstrate its concern for people’s well-being. Their programs to boost morale and consent among a particularly sensitive portion of the population, evacuees, were essential to the Axis war effort.19 Evacuations thus allow us to explore questions about consent, dissent, and opposition, which, for all that they have been asked before in other contexts, remain pertinent to our understanding of the citizen’s role in authoritarian states. Kershaw’s work on the Bavarian crucifix campaign and Nathan Stoltzfus’ on the Rosenstrasse protest show how popular noncompliance sometimes hampered the Nazi regime’s exercise of power.20 Evacuees who protested at Witten in 1943 probably ran a lesser risk than the women of the Rosenstrasse, but their action was another example of the limited dissent or opposition known in Germany as “Resistenz,” to distinguish it from the more formal, premeditated “Widerstand.” These terms remain contested, but I have followed Ian Kershaw’s suggestion that, in English, “opposition” may be used to describe actions “not directed against Nazism as a system and at times deriving from individuals or groups at least partially sympathetic towards the regime and its ideology.”21 Chapter five discusses in greater detail the extent to which the evacuees’ protest at Witten actually threatened Hitler’s regime. At the very least, evacuees’ refusal to go along with the regime’s plans forced a significant re-evaluation of evacuation policies. Even if the evacuees did not see their opposition as a political act, the regime interpreted it as such, for the leaders understood that unpopular evacuation measures might have a devastating effect on morale.22

I E 9

In France, because many (though by no means all) evacuations were ordered by the Germans, evacuees’ low-level opposition may seem to fit directly and unproblematically under the rubric of resistance.23 In fact, however, French opposition to German-ordered evacuations arose from a basic sense of outrage that citizens were being asked to leave their homes and was no more “formal” than that of German citizens. There have been efforts to make a kind of “Resistenz” versus “Widerstand” distinction in France, as in Germany, yet even when French authors write of what they have called “resistance-movement” (François Marcot) or “peri-resistance” (Michel Boivin and Jean Quellien), they often take it to be dependent on, and conditioned by, the “real” resistance of the major movements. Disorganized, apparently random, and popular noncompliance tends not to be studied on its own terms in France.24 The issues of consent and opposition, on a national scale, are inevitably associated with the study of military occupations. In France, historians have generally asked questions that are less about individuals’ consent for, or opposition to, the Vichy regime per se, than they are about the degree to which France as a nation consented to, and collaborated with, German rule. Robert Paxton, by insisting that the years 1940 to 1944 should not be treated as an aberration, but rather, were intimately linked to the broader history of France, demonstrated that the occupation was more than just an unwelcome imposition and that many French welcomed Hitler’s promise of renewal. Paxton’s work examines Franco-German interaction primarily on the level of government and diplomacy, but other scholars have since drawn more attention to ground-level French responses to the occupation and to the Vichy regime itself. In the 1990s, a new emphasis on women’s attitudes toward the regime helped to round out the picture of French society during the occupation.25 Philippe Burrin has suggested, however, that the departure from pre-Paxtonian interpretations, which viewed France as the victim of German domination, toward the study of Vichy on its own terms, has tended to minimize the role of the Germans in occupied France. “In the past,” Burrin writes, “the German presence tended to block our view of the horizon. Today, Germany appears as a faint shadow in the background, while Vichy occupies center stage.”26 The present work brings Germany back into the picture, placing occupied France in the larger context of Hitler’s Europe and French-German interaction both before and after the war. It draws attention to the ground-level interplay of French and Germans, highlighting the dynamic, negotiated quality of the occupation, something both parties were making up as they went along.27 In the text, I have used the words “evacuee” and “evacuation” to refer to civilian transfers that took place in France and Germany during World War II. The term “evacuee” is preferable to “refugee” for several reasons. Evacuation emphasizes that people were deliberately displaced, as part of a conscious government policy. Becoming a refugee, on the other hand, implies that an accidental confluence of

10 E C E  G  F, –

events led individuals to flee. Refugees, moreover, tend to have crossed a national border, whereas evacuees are displaced within their own country. The boundaries of usage between the words remain fluid, however, and it is often difficult, in practice, to distinguish between the two categories. Not all evacuations were planned, for aerial bombing and land invasion led to both preemptive measures and spontaneous flight. Not all evacuees remained within their country of origin, for some Germans were evacuated as far afield as the Netherlands or Hungary, and in 1940, Belgians as well as French civilians fled southwest through France as the Germans advanced. In some cases, therefore, the terminology may be interchangeable; but, for simplicity’s sake, I have used evacuation and evacuee throughout. A clear distinction between the two words is further complicated by the challenges of translating primary sources into English. The word réfugié is used commonly in French documents to refer to individuals who would be better described as “évacués,” for they stayed within the country and were removed from vulnerable cities as a result of conscious government policies. French bodies, like the national and departmental bureaus responsible for evacuees, Directions des Réfugiés, bear titles reflecting this usage, which I have retained. As the French terminology implies, evacuees were viewed in France as a smaller subset of the category of réfugié, which meant any person displaced by war or natural disaster. This was partly because there were a smaller number of true “evacuees” in France moved by the government, compared to the group of citizens who spontaneously fled endangered areas. It was also a sign of the continuities between early wartime measures meant to help these civilians, and policies already in place, notably to assist refugees of the Spanish Civil War who had been living in France since the 1930s. In Germany, on the other hand, evacuees were a category unto themselves, but one that rarely was called by its name. Because evacuations were adopted with reluctance by the Nazis, they used a variety of euphemisms to disguise their nature and to imply that German evacuations were different from those taking place elsewhere in Europe. Instead of evakuieren, the regime preferred umquartieren (reaccommodate, quarter elsewhere). This term, as Michael Krause has pointed out, emphasized the temporary, provisional quality of the measures.28 It echoed military vocabulary and was meant to suggest that German evacuations were orderly, deliberate, and well-managed. In late June 1943, the German authorities announced that for consistency’s sake, the noun Umquartierung should replace Evakuierung entirely.29 By this time, Evakuierung had fallen further out of favour because it had come to be used to describe the deportation of the Jews and others to concentration camps.30 Clearly, it seemed inappropriate to use the same word to describe both deportations and the transfer of vulnerable members of the “national community” to safer areas of the Reich. This book is organized comparatively throughout. It begins with an exploration of the discourse on civil defense in Germany and France in the interwar period, analyzing how France became a country that favoured evacuations, while

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Germany opposed them. The first chapter examines the distinction between “evacuating” France and “non-evacuating” Germany, and traces the effect of this opposition on planning for air war prior to 1939. Chapter two explores flawed evacuations on both sides of the Franco-German border in 1939 that were an early sign of the trouble such measures could cause. After a quiet winter, the German spring campaign provoked the flight of millions of civilians through Belgium and France, leaving contemporaries with indelible images of chaos and disorder. The Third Reich’s theorists had claimed that large-scale civilian evacuations would not be necessary in Germany, but when aerial bombing increased there in the early fall of 1940, they too began removing children from major cities. This chapter shows how the Germans used France’s disorderly “exodus” to justify and explain their change of heart. They replaced the old model of “evacuating” France and “non-evacuating” Germany with a juxtaposition of French chaos and German order, thereby endowing evacuations in Germany with such symbolic weight that absolute order had to be maintained throughout the war. The third chapter outlines the organizational structure of evacuations, describes a typical evacuation, and examines the contributions and interaction of the paragovernmental organizations NSV, Secours National, and C.O.S.I. It takes the reader to the end of 1942 and shows how evacuations evolved as aerial bombardments changed. This chapter paints a picture predominantly of successful evacuations. The following chapter takes up the many problems that evacuations caused. Frosty welcomes in the reception areas, regional and religious differences, homesickness, and the potential threat of moral lapses were problems identified by the authorities and experienced by the evacuees. The fourth chapter considers how French and German regimes tried to respond to these difficulties, which grew to a crisis point by the fall of 1943. It also explores the reactions of the evacuees themselves, ranging from resignation, through dismay and complaint, to disobedience and departure for home. Evacuees’ reactions are taken up in greater detail in chapter five, which uses two case studies, of Witten (Germany) and Cherbourg (France), to illustrate key aspects of the interaction between civilians and authoritarian states at war. The Witten case study examines a public anti-evacuation demonstration that occurred in that city in October 1943, while the study of Cherbourg analyses French reactions to a German-ordered evacuation of over 70 percent of the population. At Witten, family-based concerns led to open opposition, while Cherbourg’s compulsory evacuations were moderated by greater consideration of the family, and this, combined with the buffering role of the French state, headed off major conflict. Chapter six details connections between the evacuations of those included as full members of the community and the oppression of those who were not. It looks at Jews, the mentally ill, and “asocials,” and shows that German and French policies to help civilian war victims not only excluded, but were in many cases actually founded upon, the oppression of these groups.

12 E C E  G  F, –

The next chapter traces the increasing breakdown of evacuation systems as the war came to a close. Orderly evacuations depended on relative stability on the battlefield, and, when the war turned against Germany, they began to fall apart. French civilians caught in the fighting accompanying the Liberation took refuge wherever they could—in farmhouses, churches, even in disused quarries. In Germany, the authorities’ reluctance to recognize the gravity of the situation meant that civilian evacuations were left to the last minute, and, especially in the East, became a mad scramble to safety. Many evacuees who had been transferred from the German heartland to shelter from Allied bombardments now found their erstwhile refuges overrun by the Red Army. They took to the roads with whatever they could carry, and the much-vaunted orderly German evacuations came to an end. As the Reich fell apart, each individual sought only to save his or her own skin. The book’s final chapter looks at evacuees’ situation once the war was over. Since there were so many others clamouring for government assistance in Germany and France, evacuees’ repatriation was far from being a top priority. Evacuees had to capture the authorities’ attention, and they did so by insisting that they had “right” to return home and obtain housing, by emphasizing their status as victims of war, and by exploiting contemporary preoccupations with family health and welfare. In a postwar climate where fostering social justice, caring for war victims, and strengthening the family were key concerns, evacuees used vulnerability and victimhood to make powerful claims for basic rights. The end of the war made obvious the limitations of civilian evacuations. Not only did evacuations use resources that could not be spared if the situation was truly critical, but they also relied on the cooperation of individuals who would only play along if they felt the state could guarantee their safety and happiness better than they themselves could. War may demand sacrifices, but if the sacrifices people are asked to make are too far-reaching, if what the Nazi Party’s representative in Düsseldorf called the “interventions into the personal freedom of the individual in favour of the community” are too great, the system falls apart. Civilian evacuations in Germany and France expose this conundrum well. These evacuations were both a means of saving millions of civilians’ lives and an integral part of Hitler’s brutal regime. Ostensibly positive measures, they were disliked by most of the people who participated. Voluntary on the surface, they were often compulsory by virtue either of circumstances or of government orders. A vehicle for encouraging consent by showing the regime’s concern for civilians’ welfare, they could also serve as a catalyst for opposition. Evacuations separated spouses, carried urbanites far from their homes, and kept children away from their parents for months, or even years. These many ambiguities make understanding civilian evacuations crucial to our comprehension of state and society at war.

  

P  A W EEE

By virtue of [air power], the repercussions of war are no longer limited by the furthest artillery range of surface guns, but can be directly felt for hundreds and hundreds of miles over all the lands and seas of nations at war. No longer can areas exist in which life can be lived in safety and tranquility, nor can the battlefield any longer be limited to actual combatants. On the contrary, the battlefield will be limited only by the boundaries of the nations at war, and all of their citizens will become combatants, since all of them will be exposed to the aerial offensives of the enemy. There will be no distinction any longer between soldiers and civilians. —Giulio Douhet1

W

    about the possible impact of air power, Italian Giulio Douhet imagined scenes of unlimited carnage. Traditionally, home was a peaceful refuge, but airborne weaponry widened the battlefield and blurred the lines between home and front, combatant, and civilian. Since World War I had left contemporaries with little doubt that the next war would be in large part an air war, the interwar period was characterized by wide-ranging debate about the form of such a war and the anticipated gravity of its outcome. Contemporaries discussed military and strategic issues, such as how and when to use aircraft, and whether or not to build independent air forces. Realizing that air war would affect a nation’s whole territory, they struggled to find ways to protect civilians from aerial bombardments. Some thought that anti-aircraft guns and bomb shelters would suffice, while others maintained that pre-emptive evacuations of certain parts of the population would be necessary. Debate about these issues was especially prevalent in Germany and France, for both nations had good reason to be concerned about aerial attack and each viewed its neighbour as the most likely potential aggressor. French and German authors shared many concerns about air war, but especially as the 1930s drew on, their opinions about how to protect civilians from

14 E C E  G  F, –

aerial attack diverged. German theorists increasingly argued that shelters and flak guns would constitute sufficient protection for the population and that large-scale evacuations would be unnecessary, even dangerous. Their French counterparts, on the other hand, favoured pre-emptive evacuations of at least some parts of the population to minimize panic and save lives. Given that the goal of policymakers in both countries was to protect civilians without compromising the war effort, why did such a difference of opinion develop? How did it come to be mapped out along national lines, with French theorists favouring evacuation, while Germans rejected it? Past experiences of war, differing ideological orientations, and divergent notions about the rights of the family and the individual versus the demands of the nation at war helped create opposing views. These differences had clear effects on policymaking leading up to the outbreak of war and continued to influence the progress of evacuations once hostilities began. French and German ideas about air war were heavily influenced by Douhet, the pre-eminent interwar theorist of this form of warfare. In The Command of the Air, Douhet argued that the full potential of new airborne weapons could only be realized if the aerial branch of the military were liberated from existing land and naval branches. The small-scale strategic use of airplanes in World War I should give way to a new form of warfare tailored to fighters’ and bombers’ ability to cross national boundaries and fly over enemy defenses with ease. Once an aggressor’s airplanes had entered neighbouring territory, Douhet believed that attempts to defend against them would be futile. Vigorous aerial offense was the only way to protect a nation against air attack. Although Douhet overestimated the offensive potential of aerial weaponry, his conviction that it was impossible to mount an effective defense against airplanes led to a widespread belief that a sudden air strike would open the next war, and decide it within a matter of days. In the war of the future, no homeland would remain inviolate, no citizen would be spared, and civilians would become, like soldiers, the defenders of a ubiquitous front line.2 Douhet’s apocalyptic vision resonated forcefully with his contemporaries. Air attack was an uncanny and disturbing prospect, and the interwar period saw several attempts to limit the targeting of civilians. Between 11 December 1922 and 6 January 1923, a commission of international jurists met at The Hague, hoping to draft a set of rules for aerial warfare. After extensive discussion, no consensus could be reached. A particular sticking point was Art. 24 of the draft accord, which contended that, “aerial bombardment is legitimate only when directed at a military objective.”3 Certain restrictions had been placed on aerial warfare at The Hague peace conferences of 1899 and 1907, but now that the capabilities of the new technology were more apparent, few powers were willing to limit its use. Other meetings, including the 1932–34 Geneva Conference, saw further attempts to come to an agreement, and there were proposals to prohibit aerial bombardments entirely, but no consensus was reached and World War II

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began without an international convention to govern the legitimate use of aerial weaponry.4 These discussions’ failure to limit substantially the targeting of civilians, combined with growing awareness of air war’s implications for industrial production and morale, led to increased consideration of the offensive and defensive aspects of aerial warfare. By the early 1930s, two schools of thought had begun to emerge regarding air raid protection. One point of view held that building air raid shelters and anti-air raid defenses around major cities would suffice to safeguard civilians, industrial, and military targets. Drastic measures, like evacuating the population, were impractical and would be unnecessary. The opposing attitude was that flak installations and air raid shelters might be useful, but large-scale evacuations of civilians and industrial resources would have to be undertaken regardless. Alfred Giesler, a senior German civil servant, was a proponent of the first viewpoint. In a 1930 essay in the air raid protection journal Gasschutz und Luftschutz, he examined the evacuation question.5 Giesler noted that, “opinions are very divided over precisely this issue. [But] a closer examination … will reveal that the evacuation [Räumung] of cities will remain a wish that can only be fulfilled in the most exceptional of cases.”6 Giesler argued that the challenge of transporting large numbers of elderly citizens, children, and other “superfluous eaters”7 out of a city would not be the main problem; rather, housing and feeding these individuals once they had left their homes was the real stumbling block. Displacing large numbers of people in wartime might threaten the economic, social, and even familial order; for “in many cases [evacuation] would lead to the ripping apart of the family, the germ cell of the state.”8 Giesler admitted that essential government offices, hospitals, and prisons probably would have to be moved to safer areas, but large-scale evacuations of urban residents would be impossible. The opposing view, that pre-emptive evacuations were necessary and presented the best way to save lives, was put forward by French General Paul Vauthier. Vauthier believed that, “Before aerial attacks occur, one should seek to protect against them through two series of measures; first by evacuating the population of large built-up areas, then by assuring its special education against the aerial menace.”9 For Vauthier, pre-emptive measures would limit casualties and diminish the chances of mass panic. An enemy seeking to damage morale would be unable to do so, and nervous crowds would not hamper the defense of military or industrial installations.10 Vauthier also contended that evacuations of some kind were probably inevitable, so it would be wise to plan ahead. He noted that despite the Italian’s faith in aggressive aerial defense, Douhet had postulated that air raids would provoke mass flight from urban areas. In order to understand this, Douhet had suggested that one only needed to think of the classic schoolmaster’s question: if a hundred sparrows are perched in a tree, and a hunter shoots ten, how many sparrows remain? The answer, of course, is none, since any healthy sparrow flies at the sound

16 E C E  G  F, –

of the first shot. People are not sparrows, but they are equally likely to take flight the moment their lives are in danger.11 Rather than leave an improvised escape to nature and chance, Vauthier recommended establishing a flexible departure scheme for half to three-quarters of the population, mainly women and children. Enough people must be left in the town to assure basic public services and policing.12 Such a plan, along with a comprehensive program of public education aimed at diminishing fears of air raids and teaching people what to do during a bombardment, would go a long way toward preparing the nation for a future war. The views of Giesler and Vauthier illustrate the two poles of the interwar debate on aerial defense, and more specifically, on evacuation. Giesler favoured more active types of defense, suggesting that planning for evacuations was neither practical nor worthwhile. Vauthier argued that states should prepare for all eventualities, including evacuations, since they were likely to happen anyway. The sooner good plans were made, the less likely was panic to ensue. The reader may have noted that Giesler, who argued against evacuation, was German, and Vauthier, who argued for it, was French. This points to the most prominent feature of the interwar debate about air raid protection. Evacuation was accepted much more readily as a means of civil defense outside Germany than within it. The German anti-evacuation position crystallized gradually over the 1930s, while France remained the primary champion of evacuation as a precautionary measure. With time, a pro-evacuation stance came to be seen as innately “French,” while an anti-evacuation viewpoint was perceived as “German.” There were several reasons why French and German authors disagreed about the advisability of evacuations. Each country’s past war experiences, ideological orientation, and ideas about the rights of families and individuals in wartime had a role to play. The discourse in each nation arose in the context of the other, and views across the border were used as a foil to defend policies at home. To its friends, a “French” approach meant experienced-based, liberal-republican, family-oriented planning. To its enemies, it meant excessive individualism and disorder. Those who favoured “German”-style policymaking, on the other hand, construed it as a forceful way to guarantee the survival of the “national community.” Its detractors viewed it as militaristic, authoritarian, and unrealistic, given the circumstances of modern warfare. In both countries, the experience of World War I was important for the development of civil defense policies. France had felt the full force of the Great War’s most brutal battles. Civilians had been removed from, or had fled, battle zones, and the French were well aware that large-scale clearing of territory might have to be repeated.13 The German occupation of Belgium and Northern France had been harsh, and French civilians had no desire to submit to German domination again.14 Even the quite limited air raids of World War I had required the full-scale evacuation of Dunkirk, and people independently had left other bombed cities. In the summer of 1918, when Paris was particularly endangered, 75,000 children

P  A W E 17

went to rural family placements organized by the national Service des Enfants Assistés (Office of Assisted Children).15 Modern planes extended the battlefield further, and the French recognized that air war had turned the old model on its head—instead of sheltering defenseless civilians, as they had for centuries, cities were now the most vulnerable parts of the country.16 Germany, for its part, largely had been spared evacuations in recent years. Münster police major Eggebrecht noted that evacuations had seldom been discussed in Germany because they were expensive and difficult to organize. “Besides,” he wrote, “we Germans have had little experience in this area.”17 The major exception, Eggebrecht noted, occurred in East Prussia in 1914, when at least 800,000 people, mainly peasants, fled before the Russian advance.18 Later, toward the end of World War I, western cities like Karlsruhe were subjected to aerial bombardment, and small-scale spontaneous evacuations took place.19 German evacuations in World War I were minimal, though, which made theorists less attuned to the difficulties such measures might pose. German civil defense developed gradually in the 1920s. Although the treaty of Versailles limited anti-air raid weaponry and denied Germany an offensive air force, permission to engage in land-based aerial defense preparations was granted in 1926. The country’s domestic and foreign policy situation remained delicate, and partly for this reason, civil defense was assigned to the Ministry of the Interior, rather than the Ministry of Defense. Harkening back to a Prussian law from 1794 giving responsibility for local security to the police, police authorities were put in charge of defensive measures. This was in keeping with the widespread view that civil defense was primarily a problem of crowd control and panic avoidance.20 In July 1931, the Reich Ministry of the Interior issued a first formal set of civil defense guidelines. A number of especially vulnerable cities were declared Luftschutzorten (air raid protection towns), in an attempt to make civil defense a top priority in these communities. Municipal staff, fire departments, ambulances, and the Red Cross were to assist the police in carrying out their defense duties. The new guidelines stressed protecting essential industries from air attack and called for increased public education about air raids. Alongside the official regulations, a number of private civil defense organizations were created in the late nineteen-twenties and early nineteen-thirties to raise public awareness and encourage local preparedness.21 Hitler came to power on 30 January 1933, and three days later, made Hermann Göring Reichskommissar für die Luftfahrt (Reich Commissar for Aviation). Civil defense became Göring’s personal responsibility and then became the responsibility of the Reichsluftfahrtsministerium (Reich Air Ministry), created in May 1933. According to Erich Hampe, who was active in civil defense throughout this period, into the war, and beyond, this change was an attempt to ensure that civil defense kept pace with the latest tactical and technical developments in aviation. Moreover, Hampe noted, “Leadership and direction of civil defense

18 E C E  G  F, –

from the military sector had the advantage of providing better support for staff development, better provision of raw materials, greater availability of funds, and allowing for the use of military test-sites for [civil defense’s] own tests in the fields of building construction, decontamination, etc.”22 This was surely true, but putting civil defense under the control of the new Air Ministry also placed it under the direct supervision of one of Hitler’s closest associates. In a brand new ministry, new appointments could be made, and there would be no need to win over the stuffy bureaucracy of the Reich Ministry of the Interior. Assigning civil defense to a completely new government body was a sign of the importance the regime accorded this field. Historian Peter Fritzsche has argued that the discipline required for effective aerial defense appealed to the Nazis, who used the threat of bombardments to extend a military mindset to civilians.23 Effective air raid protection required the participation of the whole Volksgemeinschaft, and demonstrations and drills created the sense of a strong, renewed nation, ready for future challenges.24 Air raid preparedness already had been an important preoccupation in the Weimar period, but the Nazis elevated it to a national duty. To encourage air raid preparedness, the hugely popular Reichsluftschutzbund (Reich Air Defense League) was created in 1933 by joining together various preexisting organizations. It gained a monopoly over the field of civil defense and was dominated by a coterie of men around Air Minister Göring. By 1936, the League boasted 8.2 million members—one sixth of all Berliners, and over 10 percent of the population of Hesse, the Palatinate, and Baden, areas perceived to be especially vulnerable because they were easily accessible to French (and Allied) aircraft.25 The League published an illustrated tabloid, Die Sirene, which, by February 1935, claimed to be Germany’s fourth largest 20-pfennig newspaper.26 The League’s active, energized, and belligerent air raid preparedness was congruent with Nazi ideology and contrasted with French défense passive. Observers both inside and outside of Germany noted that civil defense modeled on police and military discipline could help off-set Germany’s vulnerability without an offensive air force.27 Dynamic Nazi Luftschutz made no allowance for evacuations, which seemed to imply retreat, or even flight. According to propaganda, German citizens, regardless of gender or age, did not run away. Instead, they stood fast behind flak guns, doused fires with buckets of water and sand, and brought children to the safety of well-built shelters. In Hitler’s Germany, “Evacuation from the cities had to be avoided at all costs, not simply because it was technically infeasible, clogging roads and straining suburban resources, but also because it upended civil repose, threw people helter-skelter into the streets, ripped apart families … and thus induced individual selfishness and defeatism. It was the end of a defensible society.”28 Still, the radical anti-evacuation stance adopted by the Nazis was not the only viewpoint expressed in Germany. Gasschutz und Luftschutz, a more serious air

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raid protection journal than the Reich Air Defense League’s Die Sirene, weighed the pros and cons of evacuation measures. Beginning in 1935, Gasschutz und Luftschutz printed a series of articles by authors Nagel and Teschner favouring evacuations and examining their viability.29 These articles suggested, for instance, that 20–22 percent of a city’s population might have to be evacuated, figures that are similar to contemporary estimates elsewhere.30 Evacuations should be voluntary and local, Nagel and Teschner argued, and advance planning would be the best way to avoid chaotic mass flight. In October 1936, Gasschutz und Luftschutz concluded its special feature on evacuations. Six months later, however, a curious addendum was published, in which retired artillery general Grimme, honorary president of the Reich Air Defense League, and Germany’s “oldest pioneering champion of air raid protection,” attacked the cautious pro-evacuation stance of the earlier articles.31 Grimme informed his readers that agreement had yet to be reached regarding the value of evacuations. He explained that: Two views are juxtaposed here: the French, that understands the evacuation of cities to be an essential part of all air raid protection measures, and has already found legal expression in French evacuation laws; versus the German, that holds that so much will be demanded of all parts of the population in terms of aerial defense activities that almost no one will remain for transport away from the cities.32

Grimme believed that the mass evacuations postulated by French authors and enshrined in French law would be impossible, and chaos would result. He used arguments based on supposed “national character” to contrast a “French” perspective that favoured evacuation with a “German” one that did not. To support his position, Grimme underlined the “emotional burden” of evacuations, arguing that “the mother, for example as air raid warden or lay helper, will do her duty more steadfastly, perhaps even more passionately, when she has her children and aged parents, or her sick family members with her, and can help them directly.”33 For Grimme, evacuation equalled running away, and for this reason, he argued that, “the word evacuation [Räumung] as a civil defense measure should disappear from the air raid protection vocabulary of the German people.”34 Evacuation might be acceptable for other peoples, Grimme implied, but not for Germans.35 Instead of spending money on a grand expression of national cowardice, German leaders should focus on practical training in air raid protection, and above all, the “moral education of the people to [its] duties, which reach their pinnacle in a hard, enduring will to resist unto death.”36 Grimme’s emphasis on fighting to the death for the Volksgemeinschaft, regardless of cost to individuals, and his privileging of ideology over a realistic assessment of the situation, are typical of the discourse about air raid protection among those closest to the Reich Air Defense League and Air Minister Göring.

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The publication of Grimme’s article appears to have been imposed on the editors of Gasschutz und Luftschutz. The editors wrote in a preface to the piece that, “Although the question ‘to evacuate or not to evacuate’ has been dealt with thoroughly in Gasschutz und Luftschutz … the editors did not feel that they could withhold from their readers the … views of the oldest pioneer of civil defense in Germany, honorary president of the Reichsluftschutzbund, retired artillery General Grimme.”37 Instead, they tried to distance themselves from Grimme’s views and went on to insist that after this article, evacuation would be shelved. The treatment of evacuation in Gasschutz und Luftschutz reinforces Fritzsche’s claim that ideological, rather than practical, concerns fed the obsession with air raid protection in the Third Reich. Open debate about the advantages and disadvantages of civilian evacuations was silenced by Grimme’s article because the party maintained that Germans stood fast. Grimme’s work also shows how national character arguments were used to support a particular stance on the evacuation issue. Grimme proposed authoritarian, community-oriented civil defense, congruent with what he considered to be the traditional values and strengths of the German people. At the same time, he repudiated the democratic flexibility of the pro-evacuation French model. French commentator Henri le Wita also distinguished “French” and “German” attitudes, but he considered this distinction overplayed: You will often hear it said that there exist two methods of civil defense in the world…. One is said to be German, and advocates resistance at the scene in accordance with the temperament of our neighbours on the other side of the Rhine, who have an innate taste for discipline. The other is said to be French, founded on displacement, dispersal, organized flight. Ours [the French] is considered to conform to the individualism of the race that has worked such wonders in favour of liberty.38

According to Le Wita, French contemporaries’ conviction that ultra-organized civil defense was impossible in France merely encouraged lax planning. As he saw it, “There are not two ways to protect oneself, the one German, the other French. There is just one, and it is quite simply civil defense, based on science and the most recent technology; but in some countries this has been quickly grasped, while in others there has been a delay in comprehending it.”39 Le Wita rather admired the German way of doing things and wished it might be applied to France.40 Notwithstanding a small minority of authors such as Le Wita, however, there was consensus in France that removing parts of the population from urban centers would favour civil defense. As the military journalist Albert Paluel-Marmont put it, “Protecting the population means, first of all, evacuating it.”41 Within this consensus, French theorists differed with regard to the timing of such an evacua-

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tion (before, during, or after general mobilization), its practical aspects (the means of transportation to use, where to accommodate evacuees), and the population groups that should be included. They warned of the dangers of over-extended evacuations, but did not question the idea of evacuation itself.42 This feature of the French discourse distinguished it clearly from that of the Germans. “National character” explanations for divergent French and German views on evacuation stressed French individualism versus a German emphasis on the national community. But did German and French theorists actually have a different understanding of the individual’s role, especially in wartime? One way to address this question in the context of evacuations is to examine the role evacuation theorists assigned to families. The family comprised individuals held together by bonds of affection, loyalty, and interdependence; authors on both sides of the Rhine noted that evacuations threatened to rip it apart. Families existed “between” the individual and the state and could be interpreted as belonging to either sphere. Theorists’ choice of sphere is an indication of where they thought the emphasis should be placed and which was considered more important in wartime—the rights of the individual, or those of the state. In National Socialist evacuation theory, the family belonged to the state. Grimme and Giesler used arguments about family cohesion to support their stances against moving women and children out of cities. Their arguments appeared to favour the affective ties of individuals over the needs of the collective, but, in fact, the intention was quite different. Giesler contended that evacuations should be avoided because they ripped families apart, but then explained that families were the germ cell or nucleus of the state.43 Damaging them threatened the state as a whole. He and other Nazi theorists decried evacuations because it would be difficult and inefficient to set up special care for evacuated infants, the elderly, and the infirm, when such people were already being looked after quite efficiently at home. Instead, the family should continue doing what it had always done, looking after its members to leave the state free to pursue other (belligerent) endeavours. The family was also considered important in France. Here, however, its value to the individual was stressed, as was the individual’s power to make decisions about his or her family’s whereabouts. French writers recognized that evacuations would strain family cohesion, but did not see this as a reason to reject them entirely. Instead, they wanted individuals (particularly male heads of families) to be allowed as much latitude as possible in relocating their dependents, and they justified temporary discomfort through the larger goal of saving civilians’ lives. Albert Paluel-Marmont wrote in 1933 that, “The heads of families will send their family members, whose safety they will prefer to their presence, to smaller, less vulnerable communities.”44 His view accorded with that of the British, who also maintained that “any scheme for the evacuation of school children must be entirely voluntary in character, … the decision whether a child remains at home or

22 E C E  G  F, –

is evacuated with other school children must rest with its parents.”45 Throughout the 1930s, French theorists, like British theorists, emphasized the role of the individual in making decisions about whether or not to evacuate: “Each person can go where he wants, when he wants.”46 This attitude shaped measures during the war as well when French evacuation programs tried to take family ties and individual decision-making into account. During the occupation, French officials interceded with the Germans on behalf of the population to moderate the separations that German-ordered evacuations entailed. The French recognized the role of the paterfamilias in determining whether or not the family should be evacuated, fought for closer evacuations, and for permission to disperse people to the suburbs each night instead of sending them to more distant regions. In Germany, on the other hand, friction between the official view that the family was subsumed in the state, and the views of individuals, who felt that they should have control over family mobility, became a serious obstacle to successful evacuations. German theorists sometimes used arguments based on family unity to support their anti-evacuation stance, and German evacuations, when they came, made little allowance for family ties and freedom of choice. This meant that arguments based on family rights could be used to contest evacuation policies, an opposition that both threatened the war effort and undermined the legitimacy of the state. As the 1930s drew on, and war seemed more likely, the rift between French proponents of evacuation and their opponents across the Rhine grew more apparent. The French continued to favour evacuation over other defensive measures, while the German leadership reinforced pre-existing anti-evacuation views and progressively suppressed nearly all discussion of evacuation measures. Arguments in both countries continued to be linked to an imagined national character, with evacuation preferred by those who saw themselves as free individuals, while the propagandists of the Nazi Volksgemeinschaft pushed for a strong collective defense of the home community. Despite the force that “national character” arguments carried for contemporaries, they clearly cannot provide a complete explanation for the divergent viewpoints in the two countries. Perhaps it was the case that the French were more individualistic and liberal, and therefore more inclined toward voluntary evacuations. Certainly, in Germany, once the Nazis came to power, discipline and a commitment to fight to the death for the community were highly prized and discouraged discussion of evacuation. However, national character was above all a way to talk about evacuation, a way to argue either for or against it, and to explain why the two viewpoints had arisen in the first place. Ironically, men such as Grimme and Le Wita, who supported their evacuation theories with national character arguments, did so in a discursive context that was distinctly international. As time went on, observers in Germany and France paid

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increasing attention to civil defense measures on the opposite bank of the Rhine. This was perfectly understandable, given the history of tension between the two countries. Douhet had theorized that the war of the future would begin with a decisive air strike, and who better to administer it than one’s nearest neighbour and perennial arch-rival? It made sense to keep a close eye not only on offensive capacities across the border, but also defensive ones, including air raid protection. Commentators in each country developed their ideas in the context of the other, using their neighbour’s policies to illuminate the strengths and weaknesses of their own. German propagandists never tired of pointing out that the crippling of Germany’s military through the Versailles Treaty had left the nation unfairly exposed to its enemies. Germany’s dense, highly urbanized population was vulnerable, and frightening images were produced to show that enemy planes could fly to the German heartland in as little as two hours (Figure 1.1).47 Publications such as Gasschutz und Luftschutz, Die Sirene, and Deutsche Justiz, a journal for jurists, followed international developments in air raid protection. They printed articles on Italy, Russia, the United States, and other countries, but in the later nineteenthirties, the bulk of their attention was focused on Britain, Holland, Belgium, and, most of all, France.

F 1.1. Germany Threatened by Enemy Aircraft Source: Nationalsozialistischer Lehrerbund Westfalen-Süd, Luftschutz tut Not! (Bochum: F. Kamp, n.d.), 3.

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Writers’ and theorists’ curiosity about French measures was matched at the German foreign office and elsewhere. The records of the German embassy in Paris contain frequent comments on French air raid protection, and in 1930, the French Ministry of the Interior reported that Germany had sent spies into France specifically to investigate civil defense measures. This may or may not have been true, but it underlines contemporaries’ preoccupation with civil defense and points to the suspicion with which each nation viewed its neighbour in the interwar period.48 At least until the mid 1930s, France was the European leader in passive (not to mention active) defense. German sources initially showed curiosity, and even admiration for French measures, but after 1933, this turned to scorn.49 The French, for their part, were never especially interested in defensive measures on the other side of the Maginot line, but like other Europeans, they found the German offensive threat harder to ignore. A September 1933 article in Le Matin (reported to Berlin immediately by German diplomats in Paris) commented that, “Aerial defense is pushed in Germany with a febrile activity that would make one believe the Reich is on the eve of incursions by enemy planes.”50 A year later, in response to the perception that the German threat was growing, French civil defense expert General Niessel warned that French preparations for aerial bombardment lagged behind those of other nations. Although he hoped that fear of French reprisals would help keep the Germans from bombing French cities, he also insisted that preventative evacuations of all “non-essential” civilians would be one of the best ways to prevent casualties.51 By 1939, the French Minister of National Defense and War spoke openly of “the Hitlerian menace” in his preface to the Petit Dictionnaire de Défense Passive, a quick-reference guide to civil defense aimed at a broad audience.52 Clearly, then, the discourse about air raid protection in both France and Germany was shaped by perceptions of what was taking place next door. It was marked in both countries by preconceived ideas about a “French” or a “German” way of doing things, and differed accordingly in the weight it gave to evacuation measures. But what about concrete plans in the prewar era? What kind of legislation was passed, and how important was evacuation in the actual preparations made for war? Who was responsible for organizing air raid protection in the two countries? Here as well there were clear differences between France and Germany. In the former, evacuations formed an important part of prewar plans. Authority over civil defense lay with the Ministry of the Interior until the summer of 1938, when the responsibility for directly defensive measures, like shelter building and local gas mask distribution, was reassigned to the Ministry of National Defense and War.53 Evacuations remained under the aegis of the Ministry of the Interior throughout the war. In Germany, on the other hand, evacuation was marginal-

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ized, sometimes discussed by mayors and state officials, but not by the leaders of the Nazi Party until 1940. In theory, local authorities and the Air Ministry worked together to assure the safety of the civilian population, but in practice, Hermann Göring and his staff were responsible for air raid protection until well into the war. Evacuations, when they came, were carried out jointly by the Ministry of the Interior and Party instances, such as the NSV and Hitler Youth. Naturally, the party took over the easily appreciated public aspects, leaving the unpleasant work of finding billets, for example, to local civil servants. Despite the commitment to evacuation visible in French literature on civil defense, French measures through the 1920s and early 1930s were marked by reticence and indecision. The French government made general plans, but did not fill them in with specific details because of continuing faith in the strong defensive strategy of the French military.54 Fear of alarming the civilian population hampered efforts in France, as in Britain and elsewhere.55 The occupation of the Rhineland by French troops until 1930, and continued demilitarization until 1936, also provided a measure of security to border zones that did not favour planning for war. The danger of air raids was recognized—in 1923, for instance, the Conseil Supérieur de la Défense Nationale (High Council on National Defense) asked each ministry to create its own organization responsible for coordinating civil defense measures—but until 1930, few concrete plans were made.56 In June of that year, the Ministry of the Interior issued a directive to encourage local dispersal and longer-distance evacuation of key economic resources. The directive also provided for some limited civilian evacuations; for instance, if a worker had to leave a border zone because his factory was being moved to a safer area, his family could join him, provided he had nothing against the idea. These measures “left a great deal of room for individual initiative, both by employers and by workers, inviting citizens to arrange for themselves the modalities of their retreat towards a place of asylum of their choice.”57 The June 1930 directive confirmed that in France, the individual, especially the male head of the family, would be free to make his own arrangements, even in wartime.58 In March 1935, the Saarland was reintegrated into the Reich, and the Germans reintroduced general conscription. In the same month, Göring announced in an interview with the Daily Mail that Germany once again possessed a military air force.59 The French reacted with a law in early April that declared that, “The organization of civil defense against the danger of aerial attack is obligatory in the whole of the national territory.”60 This law put the civilian authorities of the Ministry of the Interior in charge of coordinating, inspecting, and directing civil defense. Préfets were to organize measures in their departments, and the mayors of each community were responsible for local civil defense. Soon after the law was passed, the Commission supérieur de la défense passive (High Commission on Civil Defense), first set up in 1931 at the Ministry of the Interior, was reconstituted. Its job was to study the whole subject of air raid protection, act as a liaison between

26 E C E  G  F, –

the various ministries, and propose further measures to safeguard civilians.61 Both the commission and the April 1935 law encouraged construction of air raid shelters, protection of vulnerable structures, and the establishment of corps of local residents to prepare for, and respond to, the effects of aerial bombardment. Shelter building and other local civil defense measures were undertaken in both France and Germany, but since they were not directed toward evacuations per se, they remain outside the purview of this account. Evacuations were, however, the subject of three additional directives signed by the French Minister of the Interior during the same spring.62 The first two directives built on the provisions of 1930 to prepare the eastern border regions for war, setting out specific areas to be evacuated if hostilities arose and indicating the departments that would receive the displaced population.63 These measures were intended to protect people from land invasions and to clear the frontier so that the army could act. Aerial bombardment was addressed in the final directive, which provided for shorter- or longer-term evacuations of civilians from vulnerable urban or industrial zones. Evacuation plans were expanded and embellished in the years to come, and in 1938, compiled into one all-encompassing directive. International tensions were again high as the 1938 rules were drafted. The annexation of Austria had occurred in the spring, and the Munich crisis followed in September. Germany’s territorial ambitions seemed insatiable, and with the devastation of Guernica fresh in their minds, the French prepared for the worst.64 In July 1938, the Ministry of the Interior published a hundred-page document that brought together earlier regulations and detailed measures to protect civilians. In its partially restructured 1939 version, it remained the foundation of air raid protection and evacuation policy throughout the war.65 The directive set out four varieties of evacuation measures. It focused primarily on clearing civilians out of military zones before battle (évacuation) and during an invasion (repliement).66 Dispersion and éloignement (dispersal and removal), the other two types mentioned, referred to shorter- and longer-distance population transfers meant to protect civilians from aerial bombardment. In contrast, British and German planners typically identified only two kinds of measures—evacuations over long distances or local dispersal. During the war, the complicated French distinctions were lost and evacuation (évacuation) became the most common term. The French directive of 1939 was primarily concerned with procedures for clearing military and other vulnerable zones before battle and removing civilians from border areas in case of an invasion. While voluntary measures were favoured overall, the directive explained that the narrow strip of land between the Eastern border of France and the Maginot line was to be emptied of civilians pre-emptively, “even against the will of the inhabitants.”67 Similarly, an area 9 to 10 kilometres deep, starting at the Maginot fortifications, would be cleared to ensure the free movement of the troops. Policymakers devoted particular atten-

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tion to Alsace-Lorraine, since it remained a special target of German revanchisme, and most of the population was justifiably anxious to avoid German occupation. The authorities encouraged evacuations from this region more vigorously than any other, an attitude comparable to German views of the Saarland, which was evacuated before other Western border areas, because Germany expected heavy fighting there and wanted to hold on to the population if the area were occupied by France.68 The French directive of 1939 instructed Commanding Generals in each region to define evacuable zones so that préfets could begin making detailed plans as soon as possible. Evacuees who had been ordered to leave would first travel by whatever means available to collection places, where, accommodated in temporary housing, they would attend to necessary paperwork. Then, they would be divided into groups to board trains for their assigned reception department (département de correspondance). At their destination, they would be grouped together according to type of employment and citizenship. Ideally, the French sought to maintain entire communities together away from home, hoping to limit homesickness and simplify administration.69 These instructions gave mayors extensive powers to organize evacuations in their communities. The directive stated clearly that the mayors should be brought into the process in order to cut down on “tendentious information and possible anxiety.”70 Strict confidentiality still had to be observed, but the role of the mayors was far more extensive in 1939 than had been foreseen at the beginning of the decade. They were, for instance, given full powers to order a local evacuation if an unexpected attack occurred.71 In the meantime, mayors were to work with préfets to prepare plans for their towns. Clearly, French projects depended in large part on the strength and abilities of local administrators. If the préfets and mayors were capable and took their jobs seriously, their communities would be ready for all eventualities—if not, they would not. German regulations, in contrast, were rather more forceful and left less initiative to local authorities. In Germany, evacuation itself was neither favoured by the central government, nor enshrined in law, though it was discussed occasionally by local specialists. Prewar German air raid protection was based on the Luftschutzgesetz (air raid protection law) of 26 June 1935. This law appeared just one month after a comprehensive Reichsverteidigungsgesetz (Reich defense law) had been issued to prepare the country for war.72 In contrast to the French, who had given responsibility for evacuations to the Ministry of the Interior, while the Ministry of National Defense and War organized the rest of civil defense, the German air raid protection law confirmed that Air Minister Göring controlled civil defense. Locally, police chiefs were responsible for air raid protection and were given wide powers to ensure the cooperation of civilians. Transgressions could be punished by an undefined prison term, or a fine of up to one hundred and fifty Reichsmarks.73 The French had declared in general terms that the orga-

28 E C E  G  F, –

nization of civil defense was obligatory in all of France, but the Reich authorities made it the duty of each person living in Germany to participate in defending the nation from air attack.74 Nine separate Durchführungsverordnungen (implementing orders) before September 1939 mandated blackout regulations, encouraged shelter building, and ensured that civilians cleaned combustible material out of their attics.75 The purpose of these orders was to regulate civil defense in the narrowest sense of the term, but evacuations were conspicuously absent from them. Reich officials did not plan for preemptive evacuations as a form of protection against air raids. In early April 1935, however, various local civil defense officials had met at the headquarters of Luftkreiskommando IV (District Air Command IV) in Münster to discuss the protection of the area. They were given a copy of an essay on air raid protection by Münster regional police major Eggebrecht, who noted that in contrast to other countries, there had been little discussion of evacuation in Germany and evacuation measures were not planned. Since the next war would likely begin with a surprise attack, however, Eggebrecht suggested that limited preemptive evacuations should take place as soon as a tense political situation warranted them. The rest of the essay explored the logistics of such evacuations, particularly transportation and housing issues. Eggebrecht emphasized that planning ahead was the best way to avoid a catastrophe.76 In addition to reading Eggebrecht’s essay, attendees at the Münster meeting were asked to examine the possibility of evacuations in their home cities.77 They were encouraged primarily to study how school children could be brought to safety, although limited transfers of the elderly and infirm were also suggested. These instructions, the meeting itself, and Eggebrecht’s essay, indicate that while both Nazi propaganda and the law denied that there was any need to contemplate evacuation, some municipal officials and chiefs of police (the local heads of civil defense) appreciated the situation differently.78 Prior to 1940, Reich authorities admitted that evacuations might be necessary in only one circumstance. They were seen as the best way to ensure that the population living along Germany’s borders was not vulnerable to a land invasion. Like their counterparts on the other side of the Rhine, although not until the fall of 1938, the Germans planned for the possible evacuation of a “red zone” along the western border of the country. This zone was between eight and 20 kilometres wide, and included cities such as Karlsruhe and Saarbrücken.79 The objective of German border-zone evacuations, like those in France, was twofold. They were meant to save lives in the case of an invasion and to facilitate the quartering and movement of troops.80 As in France, civil defense planning involved military and civil authorities, both at the national and the local level. However, in Germany, the military and the Air Ministry made the overall plans, while the low-profile drudgery of finding quarters for evacuees, arranging transportation, and ensuring that everyone

P  A W E 29

who was ordered to leave a city actually did so, was assigned to municipal and regional government personnel. Party organizations such as the NSV controlled the readily appreciated public aspects of evacuations, such as providing food for displaced populations, looking after infants, and supplying families with donated winter clothing.81 The German and French situations reflect two poles of the wider interwar debate about air raid protection. On the whole, few observers were as sceptical of evacuation as the Germans, who maintained (at least publicly) that shelters and active anti-air raid measures would be sufficient protection against aerial attack. The heavily urbanized, densely populated German land did not favour evacuation, nor did this idea elide well with Nazi rhetoric of strength and belligerence. In predominantly rural France, on the other hand, the experience of World War I helped support the view that civilian retreat, followed by regrouping elsewhere, would be the most effective response to enemy attack. The debate was pushed to extremes in these countries because theorists interpreted civil defense both at home and abroad in light of supposed “national character.” German authors espoused cooperation to defend a national community that would stand fast in the face of war and eschewed evacuations as a cowardly form of flight. The French, on the other hand, understood evacuation to be the most appropriate policy for a nation built on republican freedoms—the decision to stay or go would be left to the individual as much as possible. Soon, these theories were reflected in preparatory measures and legislation in each country. The events of World War II showed that French theorists were, superficially at least, the more realistic. Aerial bombardments on the scale of those experienced during the war simply required evacuations, National Socialism notwithstanding. If the authorities did not arrange for at least women and children to be evacuated, people would simply take to their heels. Nonetheless, the notion that such evacuations could be voluntary, and decisions about whether to stay or go could be left to individuals, was misguided. Not only in the border regions, but also in the cities, some degree of coercion often had to be used, since the government’s desire to evacuate the most vulnerable urbanites was diametrically opposed to the wishes of many civilians, who strove to stay home as long as possible. Whether in democratic France during the first months of the war, under Pétain’s authoritarianism and the German occupation thereafter, or in Hitler’s Germany proper, the juxtaposition of individuals’ desires and the needs of the state in wartime led to significant tension. This tension was especially apparent in evacuations, for these measures exposed ordinary people to extensive government intrusions, often for the first time. Existing social policy measures touched particularly vulnerable segments of the population—evacuations touched them all. Instead of being allowed to decide where they would live, when, and with whom, evacuees had to submit to generalized policies that could never have the best interests of each individual in mind. Because the majority of the population

30 E C E  G  F, –

was involved in evacuations in some way, either as evacuees or as hosts in the reception areas, these population transfers came to have an enormous influence on civilian morale, and more broadly on the war effort. In early 1939, however, all of this was still unclear. Theorists and legislators tried to predict the effects of aerial bombardment on civilian populations and to plan for the outbreak of war, but they could not foresee evacuations’ impact on the interaction of government and private sphere in wartime Germany and France.

   

O  C EEE

France is clearly about to collapse. The evacuee problem is even more catastrophic than the military problem.… Many parts of France are ruled by panic or even anarchy. What a judgement of God over a people that gave itself to pleasure and failed to recognize its true duty! —Joseph Goebbels, 22 June 19401

H

    in his diary, Propaganda Minister Goebbels went on to describe a scene taking place in the forest of Compiègne. In Maréchal Foch’s old railway car, where the Germans had signed the armistice that ended World War I, negotiations for a new armistice had begun. Goebbels could hardly contain his joy, for Germany had been vindicated, and the disgrace of Versailles reversed. On 22 June 1940, Goebbels did not yet know whether the French would accept the armistice, but they seemed to have little choice. The millions of displaced civilians in France, a disaster Goebbels thought “even more catastrophic than the military problem,” would surely clinch the defeat. Though Goebbels’ conclusions about the catastrophic flight of the French population may seem exaggerated, impressions like his were not uncommon. Contemporaries were shocked by the mass migration and saw in the disorder and chaos the wreck of the French nation. In a modern western country viewed as one of the pinnacles of civilization, men, women, and children had taken to the roads en masse, many on foot, bearing their possessions on their backs or piled high in hand-carts and wagons. Parched and hungry they trekked, sleeping in barns at night, and stopping wherever they could find a roof. The scenes of the so-called “exodus” took Europeans back centuries, reminding them of the destruction and impoverishment associated with the Thirty Years’ War. Though the events of 1940 have now been overlaid by other horrors of World War II, for contemporaries, the “exodus” was a potent symbol of the effects of renewed international conflict on civilians. It raised urgently the question of how to prevent such a catastrophe from happening again.

32 E C E  G  F, –

In the prewar period, discussion about protecting civilians had been dominated by fears of the “airborne menace,” rather than land invasion, and was defined by two opposing models rooted in national stereotypes. The “French” view saw evacuations as a strategy that should be put into play as soon as important urban areas were threatened. The “German” attitude, on the other hand, favoured standing fast, and decried evacuations as disorderly and cowardly flight. The outbreak of war put these theories to the test. Should civilians be evacuated or not? What were the costs and benefits of each alternative, and how would civilians themselves react to wartime circumstances? Could evacuation policies continue to be defined in national terms? The early events of the war suggested that some evacuations were inevitable. Just before the outbreak of hostilities, border zones in France and Germany had to be cleared to allow armies to move freely and to protect civilians from enemy incursions. Initial aerial bombardments also indicated that at the very least, pregnant women, young children, and their mothers should be removed from vulnerable cities. These events tended to loosen resistance to the idea of evacuation in Germany, where it had been so strong. The polarized typology of a proevacuation France and an anti-evacuation Germany began to break down. At the same time, however, preemptive evacuations showed that large-scale population transfers posed daunting logistical and morale-related problems that would make them a serious threat to civilian morale throughout the war. It was not the preemptive evacuations of 1939, however, but the mass flight of Belgian and French civilians in 1940 that played the most important role in shaping early wartime views of evacuation. This event demonstrated all too vividly the perils of excessive and spontaneous evacuations. The disorderly “exodus” threw France into disarray as the government, seconded by charitable organizations such as the Red Cross and the Secours National, struggled to help the population. The German Nationalsozialistische Volkswohlfahrt (National Socialist People’s Welfare Organization, or NSV) stepped in, monitoring and assisting displaced civilians, while exploiting their condition to score propaganda victories. By the summer of 1940, it had become clear that the extreme prewar attitudes—either no evacuations at all in Germany, or as many as possible in France—no longer made sense. For military and humanitarian reasons, evacuations could not be avoided entirely, but neither was it a good idea to encourage too many citizens to leave endangered areas. Prewar models now seemed inadequate, and contemporaries sought a new framework that would take better account of the challenges associated with large-scale population transfers. French and German interpretations of the problems of 1939–40 help explain why later evacuations were organized the way they were. Throughout the war, governments struggled to direct and monitor populations, while individuals and families, having seen the limitations of government efforts, tried to retain as much control as possible. Fear of favouring “exodus”-style disorder meant

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that the German authorities, in particular, imposed harsh disciplinary practices in both Germany and occupied France, even when these were unnecessary and counterproductive. Their insistence on limited, carefully organized measures, especially at the war’s end, delayed evacuations that would have saved many lives. The early involvement of the NSV in civilian relief in Germany, and even in France in 1940, as well as the participation of France’s own Secours National, underline that civilians affected by war from the outset were understood to be a crucial political constituency. Providing satisfactory assistance to them, at first propaganda as much as anything else, soon became essential to the successful pursuit of the war. In 1939, as tensions mounted, the governments on both sides of the Rhine prepared to remove civilians from sensitive border zones. Despite the Germans’ prewar conviction that extensive preemptive evacuations were misguided, they did admit that frontier zones would have to be cleared of civilians. Removing people from key areas would keep them from falling into the hands of the enemy, make housing available for the troops, and leave the army a free hand. Borderzone evacuations were also foreseen in France, with special emphasis on land near the Maginot Line, where a German attack was expected to occur. The first German evacuation order, given by the High Command on 29 August 1939, concerned territory between the Western border of Germany and the so-called Westwall, a fortified line meant to protect Germany from western incursions.2 The order included not only villages and towns, but also cities such as Karlsruhe and Trier. “Non-essential” civilians living in these areas were evacuated, while “useful” members of the population (non-mobilizable men over 14 and women under 30 without family responsibilities) were supposed to remain. Some were assigned a job or ordered to join the workforce of a factory being moved back from the Front.3 Most border zone evacuees were sent to designated reception areas in the German interior. Evacuees from the Saar region, for instance, went to Thuringia. Local police officers oversaw the transfer, and the Nazi Party was responsible for transportation, morale, and political “care” of evacuees. In the reception areas, municipal governments looked after quartering the newcomers, while Party organizations dealt with welcoming and morale-related issues.4 For some, the evacuation was relatively painless. Ideally, people were given at least a day’s notice to organize their departure. At the appointed hour, they locked their apartments, gave a key to the local police department or Party representative as instructed, and assembled in the town square.5 A Party official led them, bearing suitcases or bundles with essential belongings, to the train station, where they boarded a special train to the reception area. They disembarked at the central town of their assigned district, to be met by NSV volunteers who gave them a hot drink or perhaps a meal. Municipal authorities gave each family a billet with welcoming locals in town or in an outlying village. Upon application,

34 E C E  G  F, –

evacuees might receive a special allowance to cover extra expenses, and party officials made every effort to ensure a smooth resettlement. This was the picture of evacuation painted by the Reich authorities, and some evacuees’ experience probably resembled it, for this first evacuation was easier and more agreeable than those that followed. Air raids had not yet begun, evacuees thought their exile would be temporary, and the families that received them were usually willing to make a short-term sacrifice. But evacuation still caused problems, many of which persisted throughout the war. This was the first time the Nazis had undertaken a large-scale population transfer, and the experience they gained in fields as disparate as train scheduling and forcible billeting had an impact on programs ranging from the resettlement of Reich Germans in the occupied lands of the East to the far more sinister deportation of Jews and other undesirables to concentration camps.6 The 1939 evacuations were expected to be short. The target population was generally cooperative, for people understood the need to protect themselves from enemy incursions, and to make housing available for the troops. Civilians quickly learned, however, that evacuation was far from pleasant. For one thing, train trips that were easy to organize in theory proved complicated in practice, especially when military needs overrode those of civilians. The German Social Democratic Party in exile (Sopade) reported that evacuees from Kehl (directly across the Rhine from French Strasbourg) were given one hour to prepare for departure, then loaded onto freight cars with 25 kilograms of luggage per person. Apparently, “because the embarkation took place street by street and those who arrived late ended up in different rail carriages, family members often lost sight of one another entirely. When the trains were then decoupled at stations along the way, whole families were torn apart, and found one another again only after significant exertions, one or two weeks later.”7 By January 1940, rumours of the Kehl population’s bad experiences had spread, and residents of nearby villages claimed they would not leave home as long as they saw a single smokestack billowing in French Strasbourg.8 It is tempting to think that these circumstances were exceptional—the covert observers of the Sopade who described them had, after all, no interest in portraying the activities of the Third Reich in a positive light. But the Sopade’s observations are backed up by those of the Reich’s own Sicherheitsdienst (Security Service, or SD), whose officers documented many similar problems in their confidential reports.9 Not only were there transportation mix-ups, but also evacuees’ fellowcitizens in the reception areas sometimes had to be coerced into accommodating them. The SD reported, for instance, about popular grumbling that wealthier neighbourhoods were being used last for billeting. In one case, a recalcitrant lawyer, doctor, and banker were apparently apprehended by the Sturmabteilung (Storm Troopers or SA) and paraded through the streets while being told to cry “We don’t want any evacuees” at the top of their lungs.10 More generally, while

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local people may initially have been sympathetic to evacuees’ plight, newcomers quickly became a burden on their host families. In theory, the government offered to defray evacuees’ expenses; hosts had only to apply to the mayor’s office for reimbursement. When they arrived there, however, they were sometimes treated to a lecture about the citizen’s responsibilities to the “national community” and changed their minds about whether or not they wanted to have their “guests’” expenses reimbursed.11 The Sicherheitsdienst reported that some municipal governments boasted of turning over the money thus “saved” to the NSV.12 Cooler weather increased evacuees’ discomfort, and combined with the static situation on the Western Front, made civilians think their displacement had been pointless, and they might as well return home. Some people, like farmers, were encouraged to go home to tend their crops. From December 1939, town mayors were allowed to return so that they could assist local military commanders and help ensure the safety of evacuees’ property.13 Although these evacuees were given permission to return home, many others decided to return as well, before such permission had been granted. Some evacuees had returned home without permission from the very outset and the numbers increased as autumn wore on. The Sopade reported that, “Especially older people have trouble getting used to [evacuation], and no day goes by when people do not go to the train station and simply ride back home. These people claim that no one will ever make them leave a second time.”14 By December 1939, even the Nazi Party was forced to admit that the number of so-called “wild returnees” was a serious problem. The Sicherheitsdienst reported that the trend affected “the majority of the population, for the flood back to the home areas is so large that in a very short time almost the entire population of many districts will again be living in their home communities.”15 Although the police normally registered everyone who arrived in or left a town, departing evacuees had not been registered in an organized way, and it was now impossible to determine exactly who had come home without permission. Returned evacuees could claim that they had never left or that they had the right to regain their homes. Clearly, the authorities needed to monitor more carefully the civilians’ movements.16 By June 1940, returning evacuees were required to show a special Heimkehrerausweis, an attempt on the government’s part to limit their movements.17 The static battle lines of the “Phony War,” then, encouraged many evacuees to return home, although some certainly stayed in the reception areas. At the same time, plans were underway for a renewed evacuation of especially vulnerable zones if hostilities resumed. This time, there would be no preemptive longdistance evacuation of large swaths of land, as there had been in the fall of 1939, but instead, the border population would be dispersed locally, and only if necessary. If the situation remained dangerous, border residents could be moved to more distant reception areas later.18 These instructions signalled a resurgence of the prewar attitude that evacuations should be kept to a minimum. They also

36 E C E  G  F, –

suggested that the German authorities now appreciated better the challenges of evacuations and felt the measures to be less necessary because they were confident the military would advance rapidly into France, making Allied incursions into Germany unlikely. The Germans had assessed the military situation correctly. Events in France will be detailed below, but a quick victory there meant that by late June, it was time to begin moving the Western German evacuees back home for good. Once again, the Nazi Party was responsible for transportation and overall care of evacuees, while local government authorities looked after more mundane, practical matters. Evacuees could not all return at once, and the Heimkehrerausweis was introduced to control the flow back into the evacuated zone. It was also a way of ensuring that the authorities in the hometowns were aware of any assistance evacuees had received from the NSV and state in the reception areas.19 “Vorkommandos” (advance teams) of artisans, doctors, pharmacists, etc., organized by the municipal governments arrived first in vacant towns to prepare them for resettlement.20 Citizens whose residences were intact, and who could resume their former occupations, were allowed home first, followed by others only after appropriate preparations had been made. Despite these measures, returns did not always proceed smoothly, and evacuees resented delays caused by the need to re-establish basic services in their hometowns. Only a few of the most vulnerable villages had been damaged by enemy fire, but many houses remained uninhabitable, partly because they had not been properly maintained for nearly a year. However, Zweibrücken’s chief public prosecutor also reported that it “can … not be concealed that members of the armed forces have, in a significant number of individual incidents, removed objects from the houses without sufficient cause, or even destroyed them wilfully.”21 Many residents later made damage claims related to plundering by Germany’s own soldiers. Still, by mid fall of 1940, most residents of evacuated areas had returned home. Often, they received permission to come home even when no formal order had been given, because their labour was essential to the region’s agriculture.22 The 1939–40 border zone evacuations thus established a pattern of flawed central planning accompanied by local improvisation. They were characterized by hasty departures and poor receptions, and by the regime’s attempts to impose order, accompanied by small-scale popular noncompliance. Many individuals either refused to leave home or hastened to return there before official permission had been granted. These same features would mark evacuations throughout the war across Western Europe. What was the situation on the other side of the Rhine, in France? Evacuations began there at the same time they started in Germany. On 25 August 1939, the French government decided that in view of the tense situation, children from vulnerable areas such as Paris who were attending rural summer camps should not return home unless their parents insisted. Over the next few days, the evacuation

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of exposed border zones began.23 Although a “zone des armées” (military zone) along the Belgian and Luxembourg borders was cleared, the bulk of the activity focused on Alsace and Lorraine. The French expected a German attack to center on areas protected by the Maginot line, assuming that Germany would strive to reclaim territory it had possessed between 1870 and the end of World War I. Plans to evacuate this area existed from the mid 1930s, for the French authorities did not want civilians to impede military action, and they worried about the population’s safety during a potential German occupation. Beginning on 1 September 1939, a band of territory 10–15 kilometres deep along the Maginot line was cleared of all but the most “essential” civilians. The evacuable zone included the city of Strasbourg, which was emptied within 48 hours. About 600,000 Alsatians and Lorrainers, from 417 communities total, were compelled to leave their homes.24 Most of them were sent south and west to the departments of Haute-Vienne, Dordogne, and Charente.25 The need to evacuate quickly meant that most families only had time to grab their most essential belongings. Some packed almost nothing, while others brought things that were of little use over the long term. As in Germany, arranging transportation was a challenge, and since military mobilization took precedence, the conditions for civilian population transfers were far from ideal. A confidential French government report described the situation: A number of trains were constituted entirely, or nearly so, of freight or cattle cars. Some were not even provided with benches or straw. The overloading of some cars exceeded permissible norms in wartime: twenty evacuees had been piled into certain eight-seat compartments of passenger cars, and it had become routine to put forty people into a freight car, leaving them entirely to themselves, without light, without washroom facilities. It even happened that flatcars without roofs were put at the disposition of the unhappy population, for trips that lasted about 60 hours, by day and by night, at varying altitudes and in all weathers.26

The authorities subsequently deplored not only these material conditions, but also the mixture of social classes and types of people on the trains, and the lack of special consideration for the elderly and mothers with young children. Apparently, some trains arrived in the middle of the night, with no representatives of the local population to meet them.27 Evacuees were shocked to find that, in contrast to the situation in their own prosperous villages, “Dwellings in the Poitiers area [for example] are in general very wretched. Wooden floors do not exist, the floors are tiled or even made of beaten earth. [There is] neither a water closet, nor indoor plumbing, nor heating other than the fireplaces.”28 To add to these challenges, Alsatians and Lorrainers were perhaps less welcome in the French interior than other French citizens might have been. They spoke a different (and German-sounding) dialect, ate peculiar food, and followed

38 E C E  G  F, –

religious and other customs that diverged from those of the local population.29 Hosts and evacuees not only had trouble understanding each other’s spoken language, but also the “langage pensée,” or mentality, of their fellow-citizens. The difficulties experienced by evacuees from Alsace and Lorraine were an early example of the problems regional differences between hosts and evacuees would provoke throughout the war. Historian Laird Boswell has suggested, moreover, that the encounter with the unexpectedly so different Alsacians and Lorrainers contributed to the crisis of French national identity during the Phony War and after the defeat. Boswell argues that evacuations “created … a cultural and social upheaval centered around national feeling and the place of Alsace and Lorraine in the French national consciousness.”30 The ungenerous welcome many evacuees received in the Southwest certainly reinforced Alsatians’ and Lorrainers’ own sense of difference, which was further aggravated by widespread pillaging by French soldiers quartered in Alsace and Lorraine through the winter of 1939–40. Pillaging by billeted soldiers occurred in Germany as well, but this behaviour may have cut more deeply in France, and strengthened the feeling among Alsatians and Lorrainers that they were unwelcome in the rest of the country.31 Still, evacuations were difficult everywhere, and much of the resentment expressed by local inhabitants toward evacuees was simple displeasure about having to accommodate extra people.32 Economic disparities and different habits caused problems wherever evacuation became necessary, and the more unlike their hosts evacuated “guests” were, the more common the conflicts. In the context of comments about evacuees from Alsace-Lorraine, historian Jean Vidalenc suggests that, “The evacuees of the Paris area possibly caused even greater difficulties in those cases where they did not simply return to their [family’s] region of origin.”33 In 1943 and 1944, working-class residents of the German Ruhrgebiet found they had little in common with the farming population of Baden.34 Whether these differences forced a re-evaluation of what it meant to be “French” or “German” remains an open question. It is certain, however, that both evacuees and their hosts were obliged to become acquainted with people from another region of their country, often for the first time. In this way, evacuation perhaps contributed as much to national integration as to division.35 The 1939 evacuation had important and wide-ranging repercussions, but for the French, the most serious test of evacuation policies, of pride, and even of national identity, was yet to come. The German campaign in the West began on 10 May 1940, and refugees began to overrun France almost immediately. The first were the Belgians, of whom about 2 million fled to France, where they were generally well received.36 Next came the French, flooding southwest before the rapidly advancing German army. Most departures preceded enemy occupation by three or four days at most.37 People gathered their essential belongings and took to the roads in long columns,

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heading for the homes of relatives, friends, and strangers. Contemporaries described, “a palpitating flood of vehicles … a bottleneck, a confusion of trucks, humble carts, perambulators, prehistoric automobiles, wheel-barrows piled high with bundles, clothing, and mattresses on top.”38 Some unlucky civilians got caught in the crossfire—one man recalled seeing cars that “had been strafed.” Lest his readers doubt the veracity of his account, he added that, “this … is not a myth,” and continued: I saw blood on the seat-cushions. I saw a car that had come from the Ardennes, and amid the bundles and suitcases, rolled in blankets, there was the body of a little girl, for whom the father sought a cemetery. I saw a boy of 10 years whose shoulder had been fractured by a bullet. I saw a woman who hardly knew how to drive at the wheel of the old Renault that held her three children, because her husband had been killed on the road in the Pas-de-Calais.39

Contemporary descriptions justly emphasize the tragic and chaotic aspects of the “exodus.” At the same time, witnesses remember the fine weather and note the disconcerting resemblance between the parade of fleeing civilians and the happier outings of a population at peace. At least one observer felt, “obliged to say, at the risk of scandalizing certain readers, that the departure of the Parisians appeared to me as a vast excursion to the countryside … The bright sun shone steadily on the happy crowd: [it was like] a paid vacation day.”40 The illusion of a holiday was quickly shattered, however, by shocking reality as frantic messages from Paris tried to direct fleeing civilians and look after their basic needs. The government was overwhelmed, and the housing situation in the west and southwest became critical. Although French nationals were supposed to go to designated reception areas, many preferred to join relatives in less exposed parts of France.41 Some fled to Brittany, although the majority went to the area below Bordeaux, the Massif Central, the valley of the Rhône, and the Midi. The eight departments surrounding the Massif Central received 1,400,000 displaced individuals.42 Creuse, with a population of 220,000, apparently took in 350,000.43 Foreigners, like the Belgians or Luxembourgeois, were accommodated wherever they washed up. On 20 May, the préfet of Calvados, Normandy, ordered local mayors to “requisition all unoccupied or partly occupied [buildings], also use to maximum [all military] billets.” The situation was so urgent, he continued, that “No consideration of individuals may be admitted … [it is i]mpossible to take into consideration any protests that may be made.”44 A day later, the Minister of Supply (Ravitaillement) delegated powers to feed the refugees to the préfets and told them to requisition the labour of butchers, bakers, and other food workers to do whatever was necessary to nourish the population.45 The “exodus” continued until, village after village, France was emptied and occupied. On 11 June, the Norman town of Evreux contained just 172 of its usual

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20,000 people.46 Later, in March 1941, the French government told the occupation authorities that about 7 million French citizens and foreigners had fled their homes. Of these, 972,000 had yet to return.47 Displaced civilians could not contemplate returning home until after 23 June 1940, when the armistice was signed. France was divided across the middle, with Paris and the whole Atlantic coastline under direct German occupation, and a rump French state in the south, its capital at Vichy. Division vastly complicated repatriation, and some displaced families, originating in the northeast or Alsace and Lorraine, were not allowed home at all. In theory, needy evacuees were entitled to an allowance, but the situation was initially so chaotic that it was difficult to ensure proper provision of funds. Many areas simply offered help in kind to transient families.48 Concern about potential health risks led the government to mandate compulsory vaccination against typhoid fever where the water supply was dubious, but it seems doubtful that these measures were actually carried out in any routine way.49 Local authorities and nongovernmental organizations like the Red Cross were encouraged to set up civilian aid stations wherever they could. Perhaps strangely, the Wehrmacht and the NSV also offered assistance to the French population. This German help was not intended to be particularly altruistic, however, but had practical and propagandistic goals. NSV aid centers monitored and sifted through the migrating population and the victors’ generosity was exploited by Hitler’s journalists and filmmakers.50 The NSV’s activities in France provide a first opportunity to examine direct Franco-German interaction in the field of evacuation. Ground-level impressions gained by the NSV helped shape views of the French “exodus,” and of evacuation more broadly, back in the Reich. The NSV’s French endeavours in 1940 (as in Poland in 1939) also allowed NSV personnel to gain wartime experience and test relief measures later implemented at home. The encounter between French evacuees and NSV staff, finally, helped mold French opinions about the incipient German occupation. For some French citizens, NSV practices were valuable and worth imitating; for others, they were models to reject or avoid. The NSV began work in 1932 as National Socialism’s charitable wing.51 Bringing together existing local groups that looked after loyal but impoverished Nazis, it attracted poor and unemployed voters through charitable initiatives. The NSV grew quickly, becoming an important locus especially of women’s activity associated with the party. It cared for needy Nazi families and ran programs such as “Mutter und Kind,” which promoted the health of mothers and young children. The NSV sought to impose itself in areas hitherto dominated by religious or politically affiliated charitable organizations. From 1933, competitors were “gleichgeschaltet” (coordinated) or simply shut down. The churches, for instance, had long offered weary travellers a hot drink in train stations and provided a safe waiting

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area for women travelling alone or with young children. Soon, the NSV started its own Bahnhofsdienst (Train Station Service) and began taking over rooms used by Caritas or Innere Mission, the Catholic and Protestant aid organizations. For many people, NSV affiliation presented a way to appear loyal without actually having to become a party member. Social pressure and veiled threats ensured that by 1942, when it celebrated its tenth anniversary, the NSV proudly could claim 16 million members. After the Deutsche Arbeitsfront (DAF), the NSV was the party organization with the largest number of adherents. At the same time, until the end of the war, and even beyond, the NSV remained one of the most popular Nazi organizations.52 It helped many needy people, though always within precise limits. The NSV did not, for instance, assist Jews, foreigners, or anyone else not considered part of the German “national community.” NSV help was contingent on, and helped reinforce, political conformity and adherence to prescribed social norms. An NSV social worker might arrange a child’s evacuation, but her visit could also uncover a father’s alcoholism, or a mother’s suspected immorality.53 The NSV provided the regime with a novel way to approach the population. Exhortations from Hitler and Goebbels stirred up enthusiasm, the Gestapo and other police elements intimidated people, and the NSV helped do both. Harnessing Germans’ charitable impulses, it channelled them toward the good of the “national community.” Grateful recipients of NSV aid made loyal citizens, and the NSV presented a kinder face of the regime to the public. No public was more courted in the war years than civilians, in particular bomb victims and evacuees. In Germany, the NSV supplemented the work of municipal governments, usually taking on the most public and visible tasks of transporting and reaccommodating pre- and post-bombardment evacuees.54 It also dealt with problems of compatibility between hosts and evacuated “guests” and acted as an intermediary between evacuees and local governments. The NSV prided itself on being approachable, insisting that it was “volksnah”—close to the people.55 On 3 June 1940, NSV head Erich Hilgenfeldt flew to Hitler’s headquarters, where he was given the task of organizing the NSV in the western occupied territories. Five Gau-level NSV representatives were put in charge of the operation, and by evening, 90 district NSV leaders, 120 nurses, and 84 drivers of the Nationalsozialistisches Kraftfahrerkorps (Nazi Party Motorized Corps) had been given marching orders.56 Based at first in major cities of the French northeast and in Belgium, they brought together displaced civilians and established soup kitchens with food stocks left behind by the British Expeditionary Force and the French army. As the Wehrmacht moved south, the NSV followed. Hilgenfeldt set up his headquarters at Compiègne, where the armistice was signed, and by mid June, the NSV claimed to have 283 staff members working in France.57 The operation continued through the summer, helping, organizing, and monitoring the return of civilians northward to the occupied zone. The NSV was

42 E C E  G  F, –

assisted by the German army and the Waffen-SS, which, for instance, distributed gasoline to civilians who had fled by car (Figure 2.1).58 Over the course of the summer, the NSV reported that it had handed out 27 million portions of cold food, over 15 million hot meals, 8.5 million servings of milk for children and mothers, and 3 million loaves of bread. It took credit for having delivered 700 babies and for having nursed 103,000 sick individuals.59 Despite all of this activity, by the end of August, NSV personnel began heading home to Germany, and by early September, the NSV was gone.60 What was the objective of this brief operation? German propaganda depicted it as a generous gesture on the part of a noble victor, but there was much more to it than that. Part of its purpose was purely practical. Once the German army had overrun large parts of France, the government was no longer able to look after civilians, who then became the Germans’ responsibility by default. It was in Germany’s best interest to provide the French with a modicum of assistance, for apart from obligations imposed by international conventions (which the Axis powers, especially, were inclined to ignore), feeding civilians helped minimize

F .. German Soldiers Feed French Civilians “At the first German reception line the Wehrmacht is already making sure that the refugees get at least bread and a warm drink” [translation by author]. Source: “Deutscher Sozialismus in Frankreich,” NSV-Helfer: Nachrichtenblatt des Gauamtes der NSV, Düsseldorf, July/Aug. 1940, 3.

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the likelihood that they would help themselves to German food stocks and more generally favoured the security of the Wehrmacht. In addition, as an NSV district leader, Maus, pointed out in a report about his French experiences, diseases in the displaced population might easily be passed on to German soldiers.61 An equally important goal was to exploit the NSV’s French venture for propagandistic ends. For Maus, “The important thing is … that the French population, and the whole world through journalists, is shown that the German people is hard and invincible; but after the battle has been withstood, [it] approaches a peace-loving people chivalrously, as befits a great nation.”62 Maus’ remarks alluded to the post-World War I experience of the Germans, who did not feel they had been dealt with chivalrously by their enemies. NSV assistance was supposed to encourage French and Belgian civilians to think of the Germans as generous friends, not enemies, and to smooth the road for occupation. At the same time, the Germans hoped that NSV aid would draw the local people toward active collaboration with the new regime. Press releases emphasized that French nurses and other staff helped run NSV camps and soup kitchens. Dispensing help and ideology together, the NSV became the advance guard of assimilation into the Reich, taking on the same integrative role it played in Germany proper. The previous fall, the NSV had accompanied Germany’s advance into Poland. Before that, it had expanded into Austria after the 1938 Anschluß and into the Sudetenland when that area was annexed.63 NSV actions in Belgium and France also were supposed to help bring those areas into line with the Reich. Clearly, NSV assistance was not for everyone. NSV camps were an ideal location to collect migrating civilians under German surveillance, and especially, filter out those not seen to belong in German-controlled territory. In Rouen, the NSV reported, “Jews tried to disguise themselves as Germans [Volksdeutsche]. A few notorious emigrants were also caught.”64 The NSV’s facilities enabled the Germans to assemble, observe, and sift through the mobile population. The NSV was most interested in helping “Germanic” peoples—the Volksdeutsche in Poland, the Dutch, and Flemish, even the Viking-descended Normans, many of whom, as NSV representatives noted with pleasure, had blue eyes and fair hair.65 Indeed, an NSV staff member sent to Vernon, just south of coastal Normandy, remarked that, “The population of this area was racially not as perfect as that further north on the Channel coast.” He nonetheless added that the French “quickly realized … that if they wanted to receive the necessities of life from us, they would also have to get used to our system.”66 The representative stressed that race, good behaviour, and respect for German order were prerequisites for aid. The same factors determined eligibility for civilian evacuations in German-controlled areas throughout the war.67 The implied juxtaposition of German order and French chaos in the above comments was a frequent theme in NSV accounts of the French mission. NSV propaganda favoured opposed pairs, comparing French chaos to German order,

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French backwardness to German modernity, French individualism to the German ideal of a unified “national community.” In France, the hordes of civilians fleeing on foot or by horse-drawn wagon brought to mind images of the Thirty Years’ War, while the NSV, exploiting modern transportation and communications devices, represented the new Europe.68 NSV propaganda emphasized how quickly the French operation had been set in motion, spoke of the cars, trucks, and trains at the organization’s disposal, and used batteries of statistics to reinforce the idea that this was a truly modern venture. France was living in the past, a pastoral place “through which a few short weeks ago a modern war raced.” At the same time, French social classes were divided, while Germans stood united behind the Führer. In France, people ignored each other, even in time of need. For them, “the word Volk is just a word, and has no content.”69 The archetypal pairs used in NSV propaganda were overlaid by a gendered rhetoric that depicted a misguided French feminine rescued by a strong, chivalrous German masculine. Photos of fleeing women and children in NSV-Helfer, the NSV’s newsletter in Gau Düsseldorf, were accompanied by texts insisting that these victims had been misled by the plutocratic (male) authorities in France.70 A 1941 book about the NSV’s work in wartime claimed that French men were so utterly devastated by the defeat that they had abandoned their families to the care of the NSV.71 Propagandists neatly sidestepped the fact that French families had been “abandoned” only because the men were at the Front and nearly two million of them had become German prisoners of war. The NSV emphasized that the feminized, misled French population would be taken under the wing of the powerful, masculine Reich. In NSV propaganda, the French were also depicted as children, or even as animals. “Primitive animal fear” was said to have driven them southward pellmell when the Germans invaded. Now, offered a little bit of food and kindness, they approached the NSV “with the simplicity of a child.”72 These images also reinforced the idea that the French were confused, frightened, and weak. They needed the help of a strong, rational protector like Germany. It is quite possible that French civilians did approach the Germans with a kind of awe and timidity, and above all, fear. Many of the first to flee had survived the harsh German occupation during World War I, and they were surprised to find that for the most part, the Germans behaved well in 1940.73 But French reactions to the NSV’s activities, more specifically, varied. Le Moniteur, in Clermont-Ferrand, published an admiring report that repeated the Germans’ own rhetoric about the NSV.74 This was reprinted in the pro-German newspaper, L’Oeuvre, where Marcel Déat soon called for a French organization to imitate the NSV. On the other hand, Préfet Villey, of the department of the Seine (Paris), was alarmed by progressive attempts to exert moral pressure on the French, for instance, through posters to “publicize the help given by the German soldiers to the refugees and especially to their children, whose misfortunes were said to

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have been caused by the French administration.” The préfet also thought that, “The same intention explains the attitude taken by the National Society for the People’s Welfare [i.e., the NSV] in the camps for refugees in the month of July and at the beginning of August.”75 Préfet Villey resented German benevolence and complained about German filming of French civilians receiving soup from the Wehrmacht. Perhaps because of his and others’ protests, such filming became increasingly rare and then ceased entirely.76 The French government more generally also seems to have been sceptical about German motives. By the end of August, NSV groups were withdrawing from France. It is unclear whether the decision to leave was the result of French displeasure, or whether it was due to a recognition on the Germans’ part that the NSV’s resources could be put to better use elsewhere. In July, a German commentator wrote that it might not make sense to waste energy on France, for, “NSV care is certainly very humane and nice, but one should be allowed to doubt whether we make friends this way and awaken the impression that we are the winner and therefore the lords of the land.”77 In late August, Hilgenfeldt himself apparently told representatives of the US press that the NSV’s work in France was done, and “now it would be necessary for the French authorities, from 1 September, [to] take responsibility for helping the refugees. This was, in the long-term, not the responsibility of a conqueror.”78 Hilgenfeldt’s patronizing remarks suggested that the Germans were pulling out of France to encourage the French government to take over tasks it should have been handling in the first place. In reality, the French government at Vichy, though perhaps initially relieved by NSV help, had begun working to reduce the NSV’s influence as soon as it had gotten on its feet. In contrast to what the Germans maintained, French newspapers insisted that the French authorities had handled the crisis rather well, for there had been no danger to public order nor any epidemics.79 The NSV’s departure from France was closely linked to the resurgence of France’s own war relief organization, the Secours National, which worked alongside the government and the Red Cross to respond to the emergency.80 In some ways, the Secours National was a French version of the NSV, and in 1940, when the Vichy government recognized the Secours National, it tried to expand the organization’s activities so that it would compete with, if not replace, its German counterpart. The Secours National had been founded in August of 1914 as a kind of “Union Sacrée” of charitable endeavours, centralizing and coordinating war relief until 1918.81 Revived in October 1939, it took on the same tasks during the new conflict. While the Red Cross focused on public health, missing persons, and prisoners of war, the Secours National fed, housed, and clothed civilians. After the armistice and the creation of the Vichy state, the Secours National was put under Maréchal Pétain’s personal patronage. Split into two sections—at Paris and

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Royat, in the unoccupied zone—it was given a monopoly on charitable fundraising. Compared to the NSV, the Secours National’s claims on charitable endeavours were less universal. Secours National representatives emphasized that, “The Secours National, in principle, does not distribute any assistance directly.” Instead, it coordinated “pre-existing … charitable organizations and thus, using what already exists, [it] group[s] together, guide[s] and redistribute[s] for more rational results, the goodwill and sometimes limited means of specific enterprises.”82 Despite this circumscribed role, in theory any charitable endeavour in France had to be cleared through the Secours National before it could be carried out. With time, the Secours National became more directly involved in various welfare initiatives. It ran soup kitchens and kindergartens, distributed clothing, and founded workshops for the unemployed. Secours National propaganda drew heavily on the three pillars of Pétain’s Revolution Nationale, “Travail, Famille, Patrie” (Work, Family, Homeland), and tended to emphasize family more than the NSV. The NSV’s “Mutter und Kind” (Mother and Child) program, for example, had its equivalent in the Secours National’s Direction de la Famille et de l’Enfance (Office of the Family and Children). Secours National programs aimed at helping the entire family, not just women and children.83 This family emphasis is visible in Secours National measures to help war victims. Working with the Direction des Réfugiés, the Secours National stressed that it sought to “defend and protect families, more heavily affected by the privations [of war] than the individual.”84 The Secours National aimed to rebuild “un foyer” (a hearth or home) for each family and claimed that, even in collective accommodation, “we have sought to create a little bit of intimate space.”85 Unlike the NSV, that tried to tie displaced individuals more closely to party and state, Secours National initiatives encouraged mutual aid. Specifically, the Secours National established a program to “sponsor the most isolated families [of evacuees] by having them taken charge of by other happier families, who will watch over them until it is time to return home.”86 Still, some Secours National representatives shared the NSV’s conviction that wartime was an opportunity to “educate” and “improve” popular attitudes. One staff member wrote that, “it would be desirable to profit from the present circumstances not only to assure a minimum of the material goods that may be indispensable to families, but also to exercise our influence on them and get them used to living in an orderly and clean way.”87 Wartime population movements presented the NSV and the Secours National with a perfect chance to penetrate the walls of the (now dispersed) home, illuminating social ills through the eyes of social workers and volunteers. In early September 1940, the French asked the German armistice commission to allow the Secours National to begin working again in the occupied zone. Soon, the Germans placed the organization under the auspices of the French Red Cross, which was itself controlled by the German Red Cross. This put all civilian aid

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in France under German authority, at least in theory, and meant that since Germany now controlled aid to French civilians through France’s own organizations, there was no need for the NSV.88 The NSV’s departure from France in the late summer of 1940 was, therefore, linked to the resurgence of the Secours National and to the Germans’ assumption that they would be able to control and exploit this organization to exert moralpolitical pressure on evacuees. It was also a sign that France would never belong to the innermost circle of Reich satellites. Its population was too foreign, too “racially imperfect,” as the NSV’s representative at Vernon had noted, to be an integral part of the Greater German Reich. Unlike the Austrians, Danes, Dutch, or even Belgians, the French were different, strange, and not entirely worthy of belonging to Hitler’s Reich. The NSV’s French adventure thus ended rather abruptly. Newspapers in Germany and France continued to crow about the NSV’s achievements through the fall of 1940 and beyond, but by early 1942, the subject had become oddly taboo. Local NSV propagandists preparing to celebrate the group’s tenth anniversary were given a package of information that included Hans Bernsee’s 1941 work, Aufgaben der NS-Volkswohlfahrt im Kriege (The role of the NSV in Wartime). They were told quite specifically, however, that, “When using this book, individual measures, especially the assistance to the French civilian population, should not be mentioned.”89 It is unlikely that the regime worried about offending French sensibilities. Perhaps the reluctance to use segments of Bernsee’s book was a sign of changing German attitudes toward France and the occupation, or the material might have raised questions about why the French action had stopped so hastily. But it seems most likely that the growing domestic impact of air war was at the root of the change. Reading about the NSV’s generosity in the occupied territories could have led German citizens to wonder what the organization had been doing wasting precious resources in France when they now were so clearly needed at home. Even when the NSV was long gone from France, the Germans never ceased trying to influence local civilian war relief. The story of evacuations and evacuees in occupied France is also, in part, the story of the continuing battle between French and Germans over control of assistance to these politically important war victims. The Germans pressured the Secours National to become more collaborationist, and when that failed, they pushed for the creation by sympathetic French of other, more tractable, civilian aid organizations, the Entr’aide d’Hiver du Maréchal and C.O.S.I.90 In 1940, the NSV’s French activities had served an important propaganda function. Exaggerating the French lack of preparedness helped reassure Germans that their government, unlike the irresponsible French, had foreseen the peripheral effects of war.91 Given the flaws of Germany’s own 1939–40 evacuations, it was useful to be able to point to the much worse situation across the Rhine. In

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fact, the tropes the NSV used to portray its activities in France soon became standard in Germany to describe the “exodus” as a whole. Civilians’ desperate flight became emblematic of poor organization, insufficient preparedness, and of how not to defend a population. The Nazi regime’s subsequent insistence on order and discipline in evacuation measures was justified on the grounds that it would enable Germany to avoid a “French-style” disaster. The 1939–40 evacuations and the “exodus” continued, therefore, to be viewed through a lens of national prejudice. In the prewar period, opinions about the advisability of evacuation had been identified as “French” or “German,” the “French” interpretation being that organized evacuations would spare civilians from enemy incursions, while the “German” view held that the population could better defend itself by standing fast and fighting to the death. When the war began, however, the border zone evacuations in both countries might have led Germans to ask where the difference lay, now that both countries were evacuating. It became necessary for the Third Reich to explain why civilians were being displaced after all and to find new ways to distinguish Germans from “inferior” French. The “exodus” presented an ideal opportunity to develop a new model to replace the old “evacuating France” and “non-evacuating Germany” dichotomy. The Nazis could now claim that there was something innately “French” about the disorder of 1940. Yes, German civilians had been evacuated, but in an organized way, through carefully planned measures that were limited in scope. French evacuations, on the other hand, were a mess. In the fall of 1939, newspapers in the Saar area reported every evacuation incident in nearby Alsace, but naturally neglected to describe difficulties experienced by evacuees in their own region.92 The 1940 “exodus” simply confirmed that while Germans knew exactly how to run an evacuation, the French were incompetent. Rather than noting the unprecedented nature of the lightening attack, and the fact that WWI experiences had given the French good reason to flee before a potential German occupation, observers such as Goebbels, or Rudolf van Wehrt, a German journalist who travelled through France in 1940, insisted that the disorder was entirely due to French individualism, capitalism, and republicanism. To Van Wehrt, the “exodus” was “not the flight of millions of Frenchmen, but the flight of millions of individual French beings, among whom no one worries about any other person outside of the bonds of family relationship.”93 Even under extreme circumstances, van Wehrt argued, French people could not leave themselves behind in favour of the community. Families might stick together, but nothing more. The lesson for Germany was clear—particularly in wartime, community must rule. Throughout the war, the “exodus” served as a symbol of the chaos that Germany must prevent. In a larger sense, avoiding an “exodus” became code for avoiding the “French” flaws of individualism and disorganization. This was especially important as Germany sought to distinguish itself from the nations it

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occupied, most particularly from France that, until the occupation, had been viewed as its equal. German superiority had to be highlighted to give the occupation legitimacy, so Germans argued that they ruled the French because they were better organized, stronger militarily, and better able to work as a community. The underlying message was that as long as they were able to continue doing these things, their dominion over France (and the rest of Europe) would persist.94 Successful, well-planned evacuations thus became more than just a way to save civilians’ lives. They bolstered the self-image of the German nation and reinforced the idea that Germany was born to rule. As long as the population followed orders, rather than reverting to “French”-style individualism, Germany would continue to dominate Europe. The result of investing evacuations with such importance, however, was that any threat to their smooth operation was perceived as a threat to the legitimacy of the Greater German Reich. Breaches of discipline had to be treated with the utmost severity, and civilians were to do what they were told, for the fate of the nation at war depended upon it.

   

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T

  “”  the risks of poor evacuation planning clear. Although the French had championed evacuations during the interwar period, their preparations were insufficient and misdirected, and the speed of the Blitzkrieg advance in any case rendered them futile. Initially, German observers thought this confirmed their own prewar position that civilians should not be evacuated. However, the war itself soon made it clear that the most vulnerable civilians—the infirm, the elderly, and children—simply had to be moved away from major cities. If the government failed to do this, people would leave of their own accord, with disastrous results. The 1940 French “exodus” revealed the cost of undisciplined flight so clearly that once air war substantially began to threaten German cities, even the Nazis scheduled evacuations to preempt disaster. Wartime evacuation policies in Germany and France evolved gradually, marked by bursts of energy after major aerial bombardments. The bombing of Paris suburb Boulogne-Billancourt in March 1942 was a turning point in France. Two months later, a massive attack on Cologne pushed measures forward in Germany. In the spring and summer of 1943, bombing reached new intensity, for instance, at Lorient and Hamburg. The following year, evacuation policies were reassessed to prepare for what everyone hoped would be the last months of combat. In France, modified policies were ready before the Normandy invasion, but in Germany, the reassessment was still underway in the fall of 1944. As the war drew to a close, the Germans increasingly were unable to challenge, or even respond to, Allied dominance of their airspace. Measures under consideration were never implemented, and the war ended in Germany as it had begun in France, with precisely the kind of chaos that had tailed evacuation planners from the outset. This chapter outlines evacuation programs from the fall of France until just before the Allied landings in Normandy in June 1944. For the most part, it presents evacuations as they were conceived by policymakers, leaving aside for the moment the actual experience of evacuations, problems that arose during them, and attempts to solve them. It surveys government measures in Germany, followed by France, and concludes with a segment on the interaction of French and German charitable organizations and the politicization of civilian war relief.

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Despite the fact that opposing views about evacuation had prevailed in Germany and France before the war, wartime evacuations in both countries were organized in broadly similar ways. The similarities were strengthened by active interchange between France and Germany, and especially between representatives of the para-governmental aid organizations Nationalsozialistische Volkswohlfahrt (NSV) and Secours National. Notwithstanding the broad context of similarity and cooperation, however, there were important differences between French and German evacuations. Most significantly, the French preferred shorter-distance and shorter-term evacuations and took family ties more into account than the Germans. In Germany, though limited population transfers had emptied areas along the Western borders in 1939 and early 1940, the first months of the war did not challenge the prewar anti-evacuation consensus. Nearly a year after war’s onset, in August 1940, a Luftwaffe report about civilian air raid protection still argued that, “large-scale evacuations, … like those in France, have had catastrophic results. These measures are out of the question for the German Reich territory.”1 It came as a surprise, therefore, when a program to evacuate children from major cities of the Reich, first Hamburg and Berlin, began in late September 1940. This program was later joined by three other kinds of evacuations—voluntary evacuations of adults not considered essential to the economy of endangered areas; dispersals of whole factories and other installations to the countryside with their employees; and evacuations of civilians who had been bombed out of their homes. The children’s program was especially significant because it broke with the prewar anti-evacuation consensus and provided a model for measures to come. The context for the Germans’ change of heart was a radical increase in bombing across Western Europe. Just a month after France surrendered on 22 June 1940, Germany began major raids against England. The first targets were shipping and port installations, but the offensive soon shifted to airfields, then to London and other major cities. In response, the Royal Air Force stepped up its raids on Germany. British evacuation plans had existed since before the war, for the British, like the French, accepted the need to remove civilians from endangered areas. Measures began two days before hostilities broke out, and continued until the end of the war, with peaks in the summers of 1940 and 1944.2 British programs likely encouraged, and probably also provided a model for, German initiatives.3 Allied attacks on Germany were not especially destructive at first, but the development of radar soon directed night bombers more surely to their targets. Once the British had passed a directive promoting area-bombing in February 1942, raids over Germany became even more devastating, but the 1940 increase in Allied aerial bombing, with its potential for causing civilian panic, was probably the most important reason the Germans changed their minds and began evacuating children in September 1940.4 The realization around the same time that Britain could not be defeated quickly also may have played a role.5

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In early August, the Luftwaffe had still argued that “French-style” evacuations were out of the question for Germany, but the decision to begin evacuating urban children was made only shortly after the first big raid on Berlin the same month. US journalist William Shirer recorded that, “The Berliners are stunned. They did not think it could happen. When this war began, Göring assured them it couldn’t…. They believed him.”6 By the end of September, children were being evacuated pre-emptively from Berlin and Hamburg. Young people, viewed as the future of the nation, were the primary focus of German programs. Children were also relatively easy to accommodate with host families or in collectivities not suitable for chronically ill, elderly, or family groups of evacuees. The German children’s evacuation program was called the erweiterte Kinderlandverschickung (extended program to send children to the countryside) or simply Kinderlandverschickung (KLV).7 In late September 1940, Hitler entrusted the evacuation of 10 to 14 year-olds to Baldur von Schirach, head of the Hitler Youth. Younger children, aged 3 to 10 years, would be looked after by the NSV, while measures for both age groups, as well as the evacuation of pregnant women and infants by the NSV under the Mutter und Kind (Mother and Child) rubric, would be coordinated by the Reichsdienststelle KLV (Reich KLV Office). Kinderlandverschickung originally had referred to programs run by the Nazi Party to provide working-class urban children with a summer holiday in the country.8 Now, the term was adopted for evacuation programs that were meant to seem like extended summer camps. The first KLV instructions emphasized that while the measures had “to a certain extent the traits of an evacuation [Freimachung],” they should never be described to the public as evacuations. Instead, they should be “represented as intensified rest cures in wartime.”9 This propagandistic sleight of hand was in keeping with the Nazi view that evacuations were an admission of weakness. Advertising evacuations as a health measure avoided implying that the government was unable to protect people from aerial bombardment. A “health measure” also would seem more acceptable to parents than a full-fledged evacuation. Throughout the war, parents could arrange independently for children to live with relatives in safer areas. Many evacuations proceeded this way, and “private” evacuees could apply for the same allowances and benefits as others. Parents without a private option, however, learned about the KLV through the press, special presentations in schools, and social workers. Children from three to ten years, evacuated by the NSV under the auspices of the KLV program, stayed with foster families, while older children, evacuated through the Hitler Youth, were accommodated in youth hostels or other requisitioned facilities. When mothers with children under three (later six) and pregnant women participated in NSVsponsored evacuations, siblings up to ten years old stayed with their mother, and the whole group was accommodated at a facility belonging to the Mutter und

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Kind program. All children’s evacuations were supposed to be free, although the authorities encouraged contributions from parents who could afford it. From the outset, KLV planners dissembled the coercion involved in the program. Although they wrote in September 1940 that, “Experiences thus far do not recommend carrying out a forcible evacuation,” they added that evacuations should take place on a voluntary basis “for the time being.”10 While noting that party officials in Hamburg and Berlin opposed compulsory evacuations, these instructions left room for negotiation and later developments. It was evident that not all children would be invited to join the KLV. Target participants were those living near military and industrial installations or in buildings without adequate shelters. In contrast to the prewar Kinderlandverschickung, the economic situation of the family was not a factor, nor was the child’s specific need for a restorative holiday. A medical examination was imposed before departure to uncover infectious diseases (tuberculosis, polio) and conditions like lice. Children who could not be placed in a normal group setting, or with a family in the reception area, were sent to specific camps. This included some children with special needs, like the deaf or blind, and those who suffered from minor behavioural problems and chronic bed-wetting.11 The rules further stated that, “While registering the children, their worthiness and the appropriateness of their manner is to be verified as much as possible … children who are unsuitable due to their behaviour and manner are to be brought together in closed establishments [festen Einrichtungen].”12 Not only were good behaviour and a suitable manner KLV prerequisites, but Jewish children, children of families labelled “asocial,” or those with major mental or physical disabilities were excluded. The children’s evacuation program was meant to save lives, but only those of certain children, and evacuations took place on the terms of policymakers, not of the families involved. Historian Gerhard Kock has written about the “educational” aspects of the KLV. He argues that alongside its humanitarian goals, the KLV was meant to act as a laboratory for rearing loyal Nazi citizens. Evacuation provided an ideal opportunity to bring children together under Hitler Youth leadership and indoctrinate them with the principles of the new Nazi state. Although Kock perhaps overemphasizes the ideological-paedagogical aspects of the KLV, evacuations were certainly more than an humanitarian endeavour. Party authorities exploited these measures, and war relief more generally, to link vulnerable segments of the population to the regime.13 KLV groups typically travelled by train, or sometimes by river steamer up the Rhine or Elbe, to designated reception areas. The transports were accompanied by a doctor and two or three nurses, with additional NSV personnel as necessary. The NSV-Bahnhofsdienst (NSV train station service) provided food en route. Following prewar KLV practices, each child wore a sign around the neck indicating

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name and destination, and accompanying adults kept lists of the children in their charge.14 Children between 10 and 14 years of age were brought together in KLV camps directed by a Nationalsozialistische Lehrerbund (National Socialist Teachers’ Association) approved school principal. Separate camps for boys and girls were established, but all followed roughly the same schedule of activities, from a wake-up call at 7:00 am to bedtime at 9:00 pm. Classes were held between 9:00 am and 1:00 pm, while the rest of the day was devoted to meals, sports, homework, light housework, and political education through radio programs and films. Free time was limited, although certain evenings were set aside for reading or handicrafts.15 “Somehow,” former evacuee Ida-Luise Voigt remembered, “we were always busy.”16 Keeping children busy furthered their education as good Nazis and helped address the serious problem of homesickness. Like other children, 14year-old Ida-Luise missed her family terribly, though after a few weeks she came to see that, “I couldn’t change it, so I simply came to terms with the situation. Sometimes I wept. But that didn’t help either, of course.”17 Initially, evacuated children were sent as far away from British airfields as possible, to the eastern part of Bavaria, Brandenburg, Silesia, Saxony, and the Sudetenland. Some travelled to the “Wartheland,” in occupied Poland. Later, KLV evacuees went as far afield as Hungary.18 Mothers and children were sometimes sent westward too, to Holland, but no Germans seem to have been evacuated to France, barring the areas of Alsace and Lorraine that had been annexed in 1940.19 Certainly, westward evacuations made little sense in view of the bombing, but France was also excluded as a reception area because evacuations were vehicles for integration.20 Only “Germanic” and politically closely aligned countries could receive evacuees, therefore, and despite its collaborationist tendencies, France did not belong to the inner circle. Each town in the reception areas was assigned a quota of foster families to enlist to care for the youngest evacuees. Since KLV instructions stated that, “When recruiting, particular attention should be paid to ensure that boys and girls are evacuated in a ratio of about 50:50,” an equal number of families had to be found for girls and boys.21 NSV representatives were warned to examine potential foster families carefully, making “especially sure that children have their own place to sleep and that neither their health nor their morals are endangered.”22 School-age children attended classes in the reception areas. They either joined the appropriate age group at the local school, or, if there were enough evacuees, special classes were arranged. Young, unmarried teachers from the home cities supplemented local teaching staff.23 Theoretically, evacuated children boarded free of charge. To reduce costs, they often took the main meal of the day (lunch) together at school, and host families manifestly unable to pay for evacuated children could receive one Reichsmark per child per day for food. Evacuees’ medical costs were covered by the Reich, and

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the NSV took out insurance for the children in case of accidents. All children were supposed to be evacuated with ration tickets intact, including the one for soap. They were to have a full set of clothes, with warm winter garments and solid shoes, although the NSV might supplement deficient wardrobes. Since the evacuation was to be “for an unlimited length of time for now,” it was important to prepare for all eventualities. By the end of the war, some children had been away from home for as long as two years.24 At the beginning of the KLV program, the authorities estimated that about 13 to 15 percent of the children of Berlin and Hamburg, the first cities affected, probably could be voluntarily evacuated (Table 3.1). By the end of the war, the actual numbers were much higher—historian Gerhard Kock reports that 850,000 children between the ages of 10 and 14 were sent to KLV camps, while the same number of 6 to 10 year olds stayed with foster families, and a further approximately 500,000 were evacuated with their mothers.25 State-sponsored evacuations alone therefore affected over 2 million children. The 1940 instructions mandated limited, well-planned evacuations focusing on one segment of the population. This group was to be removed from endangered areas pre-emptively, before major bombardments took place. However, the reality of the children’s evacuations, and indeed of all evacuations in Germany, increasingly diverged from this ideal. By the end of 1942, notably, Hitler had given Baldur von Schirach permission to evacuate entire schools. Kock rightly points out that this took away the improvisational character of the KLV, which up to this point had been billed as a temporary measure. Now, children from a particular school travelled to a specific town, where they and their teachers were accommodated collectively (if possible) or billeted with locals. KLV camps could now be staffed with regular teachers, who gave classes based on the standard curriculum. This effectively put the KLV on a par with the normal education system and raised Baldur von Schirach’s profile in the intensely competitive Reich government.26 At the same time, the evacT .. Projected Participants, Berlin and Hamburg KLV (27 Sept. 1940) Actual number of children

Number expected to be evacuated voluntarily

PreSchoolTotal school age (0–6 yrs.) (6–14 yrs.)

Preschool (0–6 yrs.)

Junior school-age (6–10 yrs)

Senior Total school-age (10–14 yrs.)

Berlin

337,000

300,000

637,000

30,000

35,000

35,000

100,000 = 15%

Hamburg

146,000

152,000

298,000

12,500

12,000

13,000

37,500 = 13%

Source: KLV directive, 27 Sept. 1940 (BA: NS 37/1004).

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uation of whole schools was an admission that much larger groups of children should be moved away from vulnerable areas and that they would stay away long enough to interrupt their schooling if no alternate arrangements were made.27 If individual mothers were not required in the home city, they and younger siblings were encouraged to join the school group.28 This change, in particular, meant that, from the summer of 1943, the KLV increasingly resembled the rest of the German evacuation program.29 In the course of the war, three other kinds of state-sponsored German evacuations became important: voluntary, preemptive evacuations of “non-essential” urban inhabitants; factory dispersals; and the evacuation of bombed-out individuals. All involved adults, and none corresponded to the preemptive and smallscale format KLV planners envisioned. The last available statistics show that as of 11 January 1945, nearly 9 million people had been evacuated by the state or had evacuated themselves. This figure does not include the children’s evacuations, which add at least another two million to the total.30 Throughout the war, the government encouraged citizens who did not play an active role in the urban economy to move to the countryside. At first, it was difficult to get permission to leave, but from February 1943, potential evacuees who made their apartments available to other (economically “essential”) urban residents met the conditions for preemptive evacuation.31 In order to preserve urban housing for “essential” citizens, the government paid voluntary evacuees’ train tickets, transported basic furniture, and granted the evacuees’ allowance to those who qualified financially. In the later years of the war, factories were dispersed to protect vital industries from crippling bombardments. When a firm spread its operations into the countryside, necessary employees were relocated as well, sometimes with their families. In early 1945, the Reich authorities calculated that this activity accounted for 628,005 evacuees.32 Beyond this, municipal and other government departments moved their offices to the suburbs, and cultural or educational institutions like museums and universities were pressured to leave endangered areas.33 By far the largest group of evacuees, however, was made up of those who had lost their homes to Allied raids. The extensive assistance these war victims received confirms that the regime saw their morale as an Achilles’ heel. Bomb victims were assisted not only because they genuinely needed help, but also because their complaints and worries might undermine attitudes on both home and war fronts. In responding to aerial bombardments, there was theoretically a division of labour between city authorities, who looked after the “care of the homeless and immediate measures,” and the party, which took on the “leadership and care of the population.”34 However, the line between the two areas was difficult to draw. At first, with the exception of the KLV, the party left municipalities to organize social assistance associated with evacuations and civilian relief.35 When these

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measures became more significant, however, the party took over tasks where it could cast itself as benefactor (running soup kitchens, for instance, or distributing clothing), and left less glamorous clean-up and billeting work to the municipalities.36 Göring insisted that, “The cooperation of the [state] authorities with the party offices with regard to the care of the air raid damaged population must be ensured,” but neglected to underline the party offices’ cooperation with the state. Instead, he emphasized that the party had sole responsibility for “leadership and care of the population.”37 After an unprecedented “1,000-bomber” raid on Cologne on 31 May 1942, local authorities revised their plans for municipal and party measures to assist air raid victims.38 Since they believed that, “Immediate care awakens above all a feeling of security,” municipalities and the party quickly set up jointly run Einsatzstellen (centers of operations) in cafes, theatres, and public spaces near the worst-hit neighbourhoods.39 Arriving civilians were given a hot drink, first-aid treatment, and other assistance by NSV or Nazi Women’s Organization staff, supported by female nurses, teachers, and librarians. Staff at Einsatzstellen provided basic clothing and cash advances and helped bomb victims fill out damage declaration forms. If their kitchens or apartments were unusable, victims received a green Fliegergeschädigte (bomb-victim) identity card that entitled them to assistance and food from municipal, NSV, and army soup kitchens.40 Cologne’s plans became a model, and an official in the Nuremberg area remarked in August 1942, that, “it makes an excellent impression on the population that all party and state offices work tirelessly to bring swift and adequate relief to Volksgenossen who have suffered losses.”41 Since it was impossible to build enough homes to compensate for the destruction, re-housing bombed-out families became a major preoccupation.42 Bomb victims tied to the city were billeted in temporary facilities until they could be assigned a spare room in an “under-occupied” apartment, a home vacated by voluntary evacuees, or occasionally a new construction on the outskirts.43 Urban homeowners were encouraged to offer their spare space and required to fill out a questionnaire that became the basis for requisitions. The 1943 Verordnung zur Wohnraumlenkung (Order to Control Housing) was used to make room for bombed-out families, who in some cases moved into apartments vacated by deported Jews.44 On the whole, the housing shortage probably weighed more heavily on the working classes than on other groups, for workers’ homes were closer to factories and thus more likely to be destroyed. Moreover, as a postwar commentator noted, “The wealthy and those belonging actively to the Nazi party were able to find new homes more quickly.”45 As a result of the housing shortage, residents who did not work in urban areas were pressured to leave. Adult evacuees could go wherever they chose at first, but in April 1943, the Ministry of the Interior established a list of designated reception areas.46 Endangered regions were partnered with at least one safer southern

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or eastern area (Table 3.2), and the most vulnerable (those in the left-hand column of the table) did not receive any evacuees. The system of designated reception areas made it easier to monitor evacuations and encouraged cross-regional coordination. Many of the reception areas were far away from their partner cities. Residents of Gau Westfalen-Süd, for instance, were sent to Baden in the southwest, while Cologne evacuees could end up in Lower Silesia. The tendency toward distant T .. Designated German Reception Areas (19 Apr. 1943) Entsendegau (Home region)

Aufnahmegauen (Reception areas)

Berlin

Mark Brandenburg Ostpreußen Pommern

Düsseldorf (e.g., Düsseldorf, Duisburg, Krefeld, Wuppertal)

Thüringen Oberdonau Mainfranken (Moselland)

Essen (e.g., Essen, Oberhausen, Bottrop)

Württemberg-Hohenzollern Tirol Niederdonau Steiermark Kärnten Westfalen-Nord Schwaben (Moselland)

Hamburg

Schleswig-Holstein Bayreuth Mark Brandenburg

Köln-Aachen (e.g., Cologne, Aachen, Bonn)

Baden Sachsen Niederschlesien (Moselland)

Schleswig-Holstein (e.g., Kiel) Weser-Ems (e.g., Bremen, Bremerhaven)

Schleswig-Holstein Franken Weser-Ems Sachsen Kurhessen

Westfalen-Nord (e.g., Gelsenkirchen, Münster)

Westfalen-Nord München-Oberbayern

Westfalen-Süd (e.g., Bochum, Hagen, Witten)

Baden Sudetenland (Moselland)

Source: Ministry of the Interior circular, 19 Apr. 1943 (StAM: NSV 648: 2).

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evacuations was a feature of the German programs that contrasted directly with French measures, which were nearly always more local. The Germans began distant evacuations with the KLV and encouraged them long after this preference had ceased making sense. Distant evacuations strained transportation resources, fostered friction with host populations, and made morale-boosting family visits difficult or impossible. At first, however, distant evacuations had a certain logic. Until 1943, Allied bombing focused on the western Reich, Berlin and Hamburg, because contemporary bombers could not carry large pay-loads very far. It made sense to direct evacuees south and east, where they were safe from heavy raids. At the same time, since the south and east had long been favourite tourist and spa-holiday destinations, evacuations used available accommodation and palliated the war-related decrease in tourism.47 KLV planners also realized that sending children to the Black Forest or Bavaria might convince sceptical parents that a healthy vacation program was taking place instead of an evacuation. The April 1943 system of distant reception areas was difficult to enforce, and within a few months, the authorities had decided that evacuees who had settled in the wrong places should no longer be transferred elsewhere.48 Throughout the war, exceptions to the reception area rules were made if parents wanted to send their children to stay with relatives or wanted to move in with these relatives themselves. Letting evacuees stay with their families worked much better than billeting them with strangers, and so policymakers increasingly accepted this option, despite its inherent inefficiencies. Group transportation could not be arranged for these evacuees, who were reminded, “not to depart aimlessly, but to ensure beforehand that accommodation with relatives or friends is available at the destination.”49 Adult evacuees, like children, usually travelled by train. The Reichsbahn transported clothing and 50 kilograms of basic furniture.50 Municipal authorities and party organizations in the reception areas found accommodation for the evacuees, typically through requisitions. Ideally, each evacuated family group had its own bedroom(s) and cooking facilities. Kitchen privileges in the host’s home were often sufficient in the short-term, but for the longer-term, a separate stove helped to head off conflicts over meal preparation.51 Once evacuees had housing, gaining title to Räumungsfamilienunterhalt (the evacuees’ family allowance) was their next major concern. This allowance, which had existed since the 1939 border-zone evacuations, was intended to compensate families for loss of income resulting from their removal. It was paid by the Reich, based on Familienunterhalt (the allowance paid to soldiers’ families), and was disbursed by the government of the district (Kreis) where evacuees had settled.52 The Ministry of the Interior had declared as early as August 1939 that the right to the allowance was contingent on evacuees’ staying in their assigned refuge, and the authorities used Räumungsfamilienunterhalt to monitor evacuees’ movements.53 Evacuees who wanted to change locations had to prove that the transfer

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was necessary, for instance because it would help them find work or establish a more permanent household with relatives. Those who departed without permission lost the allowance immediately, but since Räumungsfamilienunterhalt was intended only for people unable to pay for evacuation on their own, this provision limited most the movements of poorer evacuees.54 Evacuees capable of working were obliged to register with the employment office (Arbeitsamt) in their reception area. Once they had found jobs, their income was included in the eligibility calculations for the evacuees’ allowance. One-third of the allowance was left out from the start, however, to encourage them to begin working as soon as possible, even if the wages were low.55 A non-evacuated breadwinner (usually male) was expected to contribute to the maintenance of his evacuated spouse and children, although the authorities recognized that he must be left enough to cover extra costs arising from the evacuation.56 In 1943, for instance, a Dortmund father was allowed to keep income equal to his rent, plus an additional 64 marks a month for food and other basic needs. Based on a sliding scale, the authorities then determined how much he should pay for his evacuated wife and children.57 If a skilled blue-collar worker earning a net income of about 270 Reichsmarks was left with 150 Reichsmarks after basic expenses, 50 Reichsmarks were taken off for family support. A white-collar employee making 550 Reichsmarks who was left with 400 Reichsmarks after basic expenses was obliged to contribute 180 Reichsmarks.58 Evacuees themselves received correspondingly less allowance from the state. Anyone legally responsible for a dependent adult or child was compelled to contribute to that individual’s costs and enforcing this rule for evacuees brought considerable attention to child support issues in Germany.59 In 1942, an article in the Munich edition of the Völkischer Beobachter reported that divorced fathers had been using children’s evacuations as an excuse to stop paying child support to their former wives.60 Theoretically, evacuation to a KLV camp carried no charge for parents, although they were encouraged to contribute to their children’s upkeep.61 Some recalcitrant fathers apparently argued that since the children were evacuated, their former wives did not need support payments. The newspaper article clarified, however, that basic costs, like renting a larger apartment, or purchasing children’s clothing, still fell to mothers even when their offspring were away. Fathers definitely had to pay the support they owed.62 Hilgenfeldt, the head of the NSV, was concerned enough about “dead-beat” fathers to write in 1941 to Himmler about the matter. Himmler responded that he planned, “in these cases, to send the men to a concentration camp. They will stay there until they have met their existing support obligations with the wages they earn from their work in the camp.”63 If the allowance system was on the whole relatively generous, there were concerns starting in 1943 about “very confusing and unclear evacuation … regulations” that led to inequality and injustice in the reception areas.64 Like soldiers’

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family allowances, evacuees’ allowances were meant to maintain existing social distinctions, for they were based on the family’s income before evacuation, not compensation for war damages. Reich officials explained that the basis for the allowance was the “Protection principle instead of compensation for damages, individual social security with differentiated benefits instead of schematized flat-rate payments, unified guidelines for the whole Reich, rather than local or regional regulations.”65 Notwithstanding this rhetoric of protection and fairness, families who had been equally well off at home could be treated quite differently in the reception areas. Widows and orphans were particularly disadvantaged, because their pensions counted in the calculations for the evacuees’ family allowances. An official on the Baltic island of Rügen reported, for instance, that, “a soldier’s wife recently told me that she was satisfied with her level of evacuees’ allowance; she did not need any more, but she could not understand why her neighbour, who had had the same income in Stralsund as she had had, now had significantly more here on Rügen, only because [the neighbour’s] husband was living and had a salary, while her own husband had fallen.” The official added sensibly that, “here no monetary assistance will help, the only issue is fair treatment.”66 The Ministry of the Interior tried to solve such problems by considering noteworthy individual cases. Beginning in September 1942, it published summaries of its decisions, some of which were so monumental as to take on the force of new directives.67 By April 1944, a long-overdue revision of the evacuees’ allowance was underway. Although comprehensive legislation was drafted that fall, it does not seem to have been published, presumably because more urgent priorities arose as Germany came closer to defeat.68 Given the importance of evacuees as a political constituency, Räumungsfamilienunterhalt had to be seen as generous and fair. When the idea of decreasing it arose in May 1944, officials at the Ministry of the Interior had “such serious reservations” that the question was shelved.69 A report written just after war’s end emphasized that the allowances had smoothed over domestic tensions, and that, “Wartime welfare measures were … an important instrument of the whole conduct of the war.”70 The French were forced to deal with large-scale evacuations much sooner than the Germans. At first, the main task was responding to the aftermath of the 1940 crisis. Soon, however, the Allies began bombing German installations in France and a whole new set of evacuations began. Some were ordered by the Germans and carried out by the French; others were organized by the French themselves. On the whole, evacuations in France ran along lines similar to those in Germany, but they were shorter in distance and duration and took family ties more into account. As the war continued, the French were pressured to make their measures conform more closely to those in the Reich. The 1940 flight of Belgians and French before the advancing German army quickly overwhelmed French administrators. One of the first tasks after the armi-

62 E C E  G  F, –

stice was repatriating the millions who had left home. This was all the more essential because the occupation authorities manipulated displaced persons’ situations to justify dividing France into several zones. When establishing the restricted northern zone that was later administered as part of Belgium, for instance, they wrote that, “As an explanation, the German side could declare that the restricted areas are so devastated that accommodation and provisioning of the population is not possible until further notice.”71 Most civilians were denied entrance to the zone. Although it was harder to restrict access to what became known as the occupied zone—the northern half of France, divided from the southern unoccupied zone by a demarcation line—the Germans used the presence of large numbers of displaced civilians in the southern zone to lever concessions from the French. If French negotiators disagreed with their German counterparts on any major issue, the Germans simply threatened to close checkpoints along the demarcation line, and the French quickly stepped into line.72 Despite the delays these methods caused, by October 1940, many of those who had fled during the “exodus” and wanted to return home had done so. Some evacuees could not return to deeply devastated areas of the northeast, like the Somme, and many Alsacians and Lorrainers could not go home because their land had been annexed by Germany. They remained in French exile for the duration of the war, finding “permanent” accommodation and jobs in the reception areas and regularizing their status so that they were no longer, strictly speaking, evacuees.73 To care for war victims, each French department set up a Comité départemental de secours (Departmental Aid Committee), headed by the préfet, that included representatives of relevant government offices and charitable groups. This body established a general plan to assist evacuees, to be executed by mayors and municipal social workers. Préfets reported weekly to the Ministry of the Interior on the situation in their departments.74 This arrangement differed from the German in the importance it gave to government, as opposed to para-governmental charitable initiatives, and in the decentralized character of the system, which emphasized the role of préfets, mayors, and Departmental Aid Committees in organizing relief. The Secours National, though it was a kind of French NSV, remained restricted to seconding government initiatives. At times it sought to expand this role, and the friction was compounded by debate within the Secours National over the desirable level of collaboration with the occupation forces, which is discussed later in this chapter. While the French authorities were still assisting civilians left homeless after 1940, Allied bombardments of occupied French territory began. In 1940 and 1941, these raids mainly targeted port cities and air bases, affecting Norman cities such as Dieppe, Le Havre, Rouen, and Cherbourg. The Germans occupied these cities and the coastline between them more densely than any other part of

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France, even of Europe, and by the summer of 1941, they had begun to think it wise to remove all “nonessential” civilians from the land. In the late summer and early fall of 1941, therefore, the Germans ordered the evacuation of sanatoria and hospitals in the Calais region, as well as on the Normandy coast. Similar measures were taken on the Atlantic coast in the Vendée, the mouth of the Loire (Saint-Nazaire), the area around La Rochelle, and all the way down to the Pyrenees.75 By late 1941, however, the French authorities in Cherbourg reported that the Germans did not consider additional evacuations necessary, but rather, “a measure that would impose itself with primary urgency as soon as aerial or maritime operations resumed at all actively on this seacoast.”76 In 1942, the required conditions were met. The Germans began to order preemptive evacuations that went beyond hospitals or sanatoria convenient for quartering troops. In May 1942, for instance, 1,100 people were evacuated from Dieppe and 8,000 from Le Havre. These evacuations anticipated military action, and they were obligatory, ultimately involving over 70 percent of the population of localities such as Cherbourg. Obligatory evacuations, and French reactions to them, are analysed in a case study in chapter five. Leaving German-ordered measures aside for the moment, what other attempts were made to remove civilians from endangered cities? As early as 1941, the French government began encouraging parents in coastal cities to move their children inland. These measures built on the preemptive evacuations of 1939 and 1940, but in 1941, few people heeded the government’s suggestion.77 The Ministry of the Interior guidelines of late November that year favoured children’s evacuations, but with the chaotic “exodus” in mind, they also emphasized that, “There can be no question of envisaging a general evacuation.”78 Across Europe, evacuations became a pressing issue each spring when fairer weather fostered military activity. Germans and French realized that an Allied landing attempt, with attendant dangers for civilians, only could take place in the warmer months. In the spring of 1942, moreover, a particularly dramatic incident brought evacuations to the public eye. On the night of 3 March, the Paris suburb Boulogne-Billancourt was bombed. This attack was surprising for several reasons. First, the raid was directed not at German military targets such as ports or airfields, but rather, it was aimed at French industry for the first time. The objective was a Renault plant that had been building trucks and tanks for the German war effort. The factory was in the interior of the country, not on the coast, as other targets had been, and the operation brought together 235 bombers, the largest number of aircraft used for a single mission up to that time. Though a Canadian pilot later told a Free French journalist that, “We had orders to bring our bombs back home rather than let them fall inadvertently on residential neighbourhoods,” nearby workers’ housing was badly hit.79 Over 391 civilian lives were lost, 254 people were seriously wounded, and 9,548 lost their homes.

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In response, the French government immediately asked préfets to establish lists of “secteurs menacés” (endangered sectors) in their departments, encompassing 200 to 300 metres around any likely target. Previous instructions had focused on coastal departments, but now children under 14, pregnant women, mothers of young children, and anyone without an active role in the local economy was encouraged to leave vulnerable sectors throughout France.80 Ideally, endangered individuals would relocate to less exposed parts of their home community, but if this was impossible, they could go elsewhere. Evacuees could receive an allocation des réfugiés (refugees’ or evacuees’ allocation) if they had a monthly income less than the amount of the allocation for their district, plus 1,000 francs. A Parisian family of four earning less than 2,350 francs a month, for example, was eligible for state evacuation assistance.81 Evacuees could also receive subsidized transportation and free or subsidized housing, depending on their circumstances. If children were evacuated separately, the host family was paid 10 francs per day for children under 13 and 12 francs for those 13 to 14 years old. Parents were expected to contribute to their children’s care, at least up to the amount they received in normal family allocations from the government.82 The French regulations issued in the wake of Boulogne-Billancourt show a clear preference for placing children with foster families, rather than organizing collective accommodation.83 Family placements avoided having to furnish group facilities and required a minimum of staff. Careful supervision was necessary “as much with regard to the choice of the families with whom children shall be placed, as with regard to intellectual, moral and sanitary surveillance in the reception communities,” but local state employees already closely involved with children, notably teachers, could be enlisted to assist.84 German programs used many teachers as well, but their role was downplayed, in favour of NSV social workers and other Nazi party representatives. In a further contrast with Germany, the French rules stressed that, “In principle, the children should not be too far removed from their families.”85 This meant evacuating them less than 200 km from their home cities. The government provided free or subsidized transportation beyond 200 km only if children were being sent to a collective establishment, like a boarding school. Barring the most vulnerable areas of the Nord, Brittany, Normandy, and Paris, all evacuations were supposed to take place within the evacuees’ region of origin.86 The French preferred to evacuate civilians close to home for several reasons. No one wanted to repeat the cross-country treks of the “exodus” and the situation of evacuees from Alsace-Lorraine also suggested that distant evacuations were a mistake.87 The Alsacians’ and Lorrainers’ discomfort reinforced fears about the homesickness or “dépaysement” awaiting evacuees. Moreover, in contrast to Germany, where the south and east were sheltered from early bombardments and had an abundance of hotels and hostels, no part of France was truly safe, and traditional French tourist areas on the coasts were off-limits by German or-

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der. The unoccupied zone remained relatively safe until 1943, but the French authorities were reluctant to send evacuees there because of ongoing problems with moving back and forth across the demarcation line.88 As a school inspector in Seine-Maritime put it, “we are nearly totally ignorant of the real possibilities of accommodation in these departments.” Worse, these areas, “having their own administrative cadres are, by this fact, removed from our authority and control.” Finally, the French hesitated to arrange long-distance evacuations because of the importance they afforded sentimental and psychological factors. As the school inspector explained, “Parents are more reassured if they feel their children are near home, in places that often they know, and where it is possible, if necessary, to join or to visit them.”89 The preference for smaller-scale, closer measures distinguished French evacuations from German evacuations throughout the war. Evacuation policies continued to evolve. After heavy bombing led civilians to flee the Breton city of Lorient in 1943, efforts to plan for emergencies were stepped up and reception areas were revised.90 The table below was developed by the Direction des Réfugiés in February 1943 (Table 3.3). As before, the French system used reception areas relatively near evacuees’ homes. T .. Designated French Reception Areas (4 Feb. 1943) Department of origin

Reception Department

Nord Pas-de-Calais Somme Seine-Inférieure Calvados Manche Ille-et-Vilaine Finistère Morbihan Loire-Inférieure Vendée Charente-Maritime Gironde Landes Basses-Pyrénées Seine et Seine-et-Oise Alpes-Maritimes Var Bouches-du-Rhône Hérault Aude Pyrénées-Orientales Région lyonnaise Other departements

Cote d’Or, Aube Nièvre, Marne Haute-Marne, Vosges Eure-et-Loir, Eure Orne Loiret, Sarthe Loiret Cher, Loir-et-Cher Indre, Indre-et-Loire Haute-Vienne, Vienne Deux-Sèvres Dordogne, Charente Tarn-et-Garonne, Lot-et-Garonne Gers Hautes-Pyrénées Allier, Creuse, Haute-Saône, Saône-et-Loire, Jura, Doubs Hautes-Alpes, part of Isère Drome, part of Isère Ardèche, Lozère, Haute-Loire, Cantal Aveyron, Tarn Tarn Ariège Rhône, Ain, part of Isère Interior of the same department

Source: Appendix three, Direction des Réfugiés circular, 4 Feb. 1943 (AN: 41 AJ/350).

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Despite repeated tragedies, however, parents remained reluctant to evacuate their children. By April 1943, the French government was prepared to step in with “obligatory measures” and began discussing group accommodation for the first time.91 New guidelines suggested that even children who were sent to live with host families should be grouped together as much as possible. All the children from a specific school in Rouen, for instance, could be evacuated to the same area of nearby Eure. Group evacuations would simplify education, supervision, and medical care, as well as alleviate homesickness. Even when the German occupation of the whole country opened evacuations to southern France, children’s evacuations remained as local as possible. They were intended to follow, in general terms, the plans each community had developed for emergencies. If a mass exodus occurred, parents could simply join children already living in designated reception areas. To coordinate children’s evacuations, an “Oeuvre des Petits Réfugiés” (Little Evacuees’ Charity) was created in the central community of each arrondissement. This body, usually presided over by the sous-préfet, united representatives of the school board, charitable organizations, churches, and any other groups involved in the evacuation and reception of children. Mayors also created a similar Comité communal d’accueil (Community reception committee) in each town or village to “interpose between the government and the families a less anonymous organization.”92 Host communities were told to prepare to accommodate evacuees amounting to at least 10 percent of the population. Although they preferred family placements, the French authorities also noted that some 5,000 children had been successfully placed in Centres scolaires de repliement (School Evacuation Centers). Policymakers now felt this method should be encouraged, a change of attitude probably linked to the fact that the Germans were engaging in the first official “school evacuations” at this time. Large unoccupied or under-occupied structures were required for groups of more than 50 children, and if the Germans had requisitioned such a facility but were not using it, the French negotiated to free it for evacuees. Reminding Germans who refused requisition requests that releasing facilities for evacuees “specifically responds to the German authorities’ desire to see the coastal regions that have been bombed, or are at risk, relieved of their unnecessary civilian populations,” French officials played one German demand off against another to maximize their manoeuvring room.93 “Centers” of evacuated French children were supposed to be run by educators, usually school principals, and staffed by teachers and teachers’ assistants from both the home city and reception area. Each center had a nurse, a doctor who visited occasionally and was responsible in emergencies, and additional hired housekeeping staff. The Direction des Réfugiés paid to transport children to such centers, and paid the center 15 francs per day per child, regardless of age. Centers near Paris, where prices were higher, received 2 francs a day more. Centers were

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encouraged to solicit private donations and the Secours National furnished up to 6 francs a day for each child if necessary to cover costs. Préfets had ultimate authority over local centers, which were supposed to be inspected regularly by the departmental head of evacuees’ services, the school inspector, and a medical inspector. Perhaps in an effort to make Centres scolaires de repliement more like the KLV, policymakers suggested that it would be “desirable” if all children evacuated to a “center” wore a uniform. They noted that, “This measure, already applied in one coastal department, has led to excellent results and had a happy influence on the spirit of discipline and rectitude that should be the rule in all [centers].”94 Centres scolaires de repliement, and the family placements discussed above, were the main varieties of children’s evacuations envisaged, but a third “hybrid” option was also possible. It involved either collective sleeping arrangements, but meals with host families, or accommodation with host families and meals taken in common during the day. The latter variation, especially, probably was used fairly widely, as in Germany, because it reduced host families’ costs and relieved them of looking after children all day as well as at night. Additional instructions from the Direction des Réfugiés stressed the need to restrict state assistance to evacuees from truly endangered areas and to evacuate the most sensitive groups—children, pregnant women, the sick, and the elderly.95 The emphasis on children was the same as in Germany, but French regulations also encouraged evacuating the elderly. In Germany, elderly and sick citizens were evacuated primarily to free housing for the working population of vulnerable areas, while in France they were considered worthy of assistance in their own right. In both countries, evacuation regulations desperately needed rationalization by 1944. A French circular issued on 1 February abrogated previous rules and provided new guidelines, “taking into account the experiences recently acquired and the dangers that now extend to the most diverse points of our territory.”96 The new regulations were ready for the 1944 bombing season and consequently also for the long-awaited Allied Landing, which challenged French emergency response capabilities to the utmost, especially in Normandy. The events of 1944 and 1945 will be taken up below, and since the 1944 circular essentially underlined and repeated provisions, rather than altering existing arrangements, it is not necessary to detail it here. The same principles that had shaped French evacuations from the outset remained hallmarks of the new guidelines. Evacuations should be local, ideally short-term, and organized departmentally, rather than centrally from Paris. They should take family ties into account as much as possible, and involve communities and philanthropy through organizations such as the Little evacuees’ charities and the Secours National. Although the final responsibility for evacuations rested with the state, much of the actual work in Germany and France was done by the NSV and the Secours National.97 The activities of these groups, and of two other organizations created in France with German encouragement when the Secours National proved insuf-

68 E C E  G  F, –

ficiently cooperative, give us a clearer picture of two features largely absent from the description of evacuation practices above. First, the NSV and Secours National’s involvement underlines the degree of interaction between Germany and France in civilian war relief. Second, since the Third Reich politicized war relief through charitable organizations, this involvement sheds light on the regime’s attempts to influence evacuees’ opinions and morale in both countries. NSV assistance to French civilians in 1940 had already demonstrated that charity could be a funnel for ideology, and when the NSV withdrew, the Germans tried to turn the Secours National into a vehicle for implementing Nazistyle war relief in France.98 The Secours National was not as openly political as its German counterpart, but the staff solicited contact with the NSV and served as a conduit for German-French exchange in civilian aid. Throughout the occupation, the Secours National walked a fine line between neutrality and collaboration. On the one hand, Robert Garric, Commissaire Générale (General Commissioner) of the Secours National in the non-occupied zone, was a Pétainist, but anti-German. He opposed tying the Secours National too closely to the government, but was happy to use Secours National fundraising campaigns to reinforce Pétain’s État Français.99 On the other hand, the Secours National’s Paris office was collaborationist, particularly the members of a special project called L’Entr’aide d’Hiver du Maréchal (The Maréchal’s Winter Mutual Aid Society). The first calls for a French Winterhilfswerk (a “Secours d’Hiver”), modeled on the German Winterhilfswerk (Winter Aid), came in October 1940, from Marcel Déat in l’Oeuvre and Jacques Doriot in the Cri du Peuple.100 Once established, the Entr’aide d’Hiver evolved into a separatist faction of the Secours National, in which Doriotists and Déatists carried on internecine warfare, while at the same time chastising their mother organization for insufficient collaborationist vigour. Proponents of the Entr’aide d’Hiver, who considered their group more “revolutionary” than the cumbersome Secours National, tried to gain control over all charitable activities in Paris.101 They pressed their claims with the Germans’ help, but by mid February 1941, the Secours National had reigned in the threat.102 The Entr’aide d’Hiver continued to exist as a branch of the Secours National, running Secours National activities in Paris, but its independent ambitions were quieted for the time being. Attempts to establish close ties to the Germans in the civilian aid field, and to the NSV itself, continued. French citizens who resented the politicization of war relief already suspected that “Winter Aid [equals] Hitler’s Aid!”103 The accuracy of their suspicions is confirmed by the fact that in February 1942, Entr’aide d’Hiver president Gabriel Cognacq reported to Pétain that, “A private yet regular contact with eminent members of the NSV has finally been established.”104 Cognacq believed that, “There is much to learn and retain from the Hitlerian institution. The NSV is very strongly built. The thing to do is frame the Secours National

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no less sturdily without making it a German affair.”105 Cognacq wanted to learn from the NSV, yet keep the Secours National “French” enough to retain the trust of the average French citizen. These issues came to a head in March 1942 after the bombing of BoulogneBillancourt. In the wake of this tragedy, a new charitable organization appeared, hoping to capitalize on bomb victims’ distress and to take advantage of the Paris public’s disenchantment with the Secours National. The Comité Ouvrier de Secours Immédiat (Worker’s Society for Immediate Aid), or C.O.S.I., as it was called, promised to provide generous, worker-based assistance to families affected by bombing. It criticized the Secours National as “bourgeois,” paternalistic, and cumbersome, and claimed that only C.O.S.I. truly spoke for workers.106 C.O.S.I. was openly sponsored by the German embassy in Paris, and one of the main personalities behind it, like the early Entr’aide d’Hiver, was Marcel Déat.107 In fact, C.O.S.I. was a blatant attempt to recreate the kind of closely collaborationist charitable organization that rabidly pro-German elements had tried (and failed) to build in the Entr’aide d’Hiver. C.O.S.I. hoped to capitalize on bomb victims’ vulnerability to gain adherents to the collaborationist cause. The German authorities provided it with a founding gift of 100 million francs, taken from funds confiscated from French Jews. To encourage immediate loyalty, bombed-out families received cash payments, not the aid in kind preferred by the Secours National. C.O.S.I. also distributed furniture, which, like its funding, had been taken from French Jews.108 In the late spring of 1943, in an effort to quell persistent rivalries between the Secours National and C.O.S.I., the two organizations agreed to leave the distribution of cash aid and furniture to C.O.S.I., while longer-term assistance remained the purview of the Secours National. This arrangement followed the same logic that led the NSV to take control of immediate assistance to bombed-out families in Germany, leaving less exciting long-term issues to municipal and regional governments. Both the NSV and C.O.S.I. reached out to bomb victims when they were most vulnerable, just after a raid had occurred, offering direct aid to tie an especially sensitive group of people closer to the regime.109 The exchange of ideas and practices that had begun with the NSV’s assistance to French civilians during the “exodus” went on throughout the war.110 As early as November 1940, the Militärbefehlshaber Frankreich (Military Commander in France) had arranged for regular meetings between the German Red Cross representative for France, and Georges Pichat and Gabriel Cognacq, heads of the Secours National and Entr’aide d’Hiver, respectively. The Secours National wanted to establish a fixed arrangement directly with the German embassy in Paris, something Pétain thought “favourable to French-German relations on a political plane,” though he wanted the meetings to be presided over by the French.111 The German embassy was already heavily involved in the Entr’aide d’Hiver, and later with C.O.S.I., however, and for the time being, the Militärbefehlshaber

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found existing meetings sufficient to address concerns.112 Nonetheless, in February 1942, as we have seen above, Cognacq reported to Pétain that a “private yet regular contact with eminent members of the NSV” in Germany had “finally” been established.113 The culmination of this interchange came in 1944. Late in the previous year, a staff member at the embassy in Paris had noted that, “Mr. Pilon, General Secretary of the Secours National, and Mr. Cognacq, President of the Entr’aide d’Hiver, have told me for about two years that they would like to take a trip to Germany to get to know German social work.”114 In particular, Pilon and Cognacq were said to be interested in the NSV’s war relief programs. The embassy soon wrote to the Foreign Office to ask that Pilon and Cognacq be invited to Germany. Embassy officials hoped that the trip would have “a propagandistic use,” and noted with regard to Pilon that, “It is above all thanks to his initiative that the Secours National has in the last few years grown to resemble the NSV strongly.”115 In early June 1944, Pilon informed the Secours National ’s board of directors that, “Mr. Cognacq and himself have been invited by the occupation authorities to go to Germany, notably to Berlin, Munich and Vienna, to contact the head of the German Winter Aid [NSV] and to study the methods of this social organization on the ground.”116 Apparently, the Secours National ’s board responded that it, “appreciate[d] this invitation as it ought to” and felt that the trip would allow Pilon and Cognacq, “to understand exactly the manner in which the German organism functions in time of bombardment.” Nevertheless, alluding to the war situation and perhaps an imminent Allied invasion, board members did wonder if it was advisable “in the present circumstances” to have both of these men absent at the same time and suggested that the trip should be postponed.117 Perhaps deliberately, however, by the time the proposed trip was mentioned to the board of directors on 1 June, it could not be postponed. Pilon and Cognacq left for Germany on 4 June 1944, arriving in Berlin the following day. Although the original request had been for a “Deutschlandreise,” i.e., a complete national tour, in the end they visited only Berlin and Salzburg.118 The trip, which was supposed to have been two weeks long, was cut to a mere six days shortly before their departure. Given that the Normandy landings took place two days after Pilon and Cognacq left Paris, the men may also have been eager to return home. Upon their return, the embassy hailed the trip as a success. Pilon and Cognacq had met with NSV head Hilgenfeldt and his deputy in Berlin and another representative in Salzburg. The embassy reported that, “Mr. Gustave Pilon … and Mr. Gabriel Cognacq … have spoken very positively here about the impressions they gained [in Germany].”119 Cognacq apparently gave a speech about his experiences, of which the embassy received a copy, but unfortunately neither his nor Pilon’s impressions of the trip survive.120 This trip was the culmination of four years of imitation, admiration, and cooperation with the Germans. Not all of the members of the Secours National were

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as keen on the interchange as Pilon and Cognacq, but it is clear that Secours National methods often emulated those of the NSV. Indeed, especially in the field of bomb victim relief, German and French methods were on the whole remarkably similar. This was partly because of the very basic point that there are only a certain number of ways in which to organize disaster relief. But it also underlines the fact that even in wartime, or perhaps particularly in wartime, cross-national interaction, observation, and imitation persist. This is especially true during an occupation. Even if France was treated as the junior partner, the possibilities for exchange were manifold and were exploited by both sides. Although some French took a particularly large leaf out of the Germans’ book with regard to the politicization of war relief, for a variety of reasons explored below, evacuations never became quite the touchstone of popular morale in France that they were in Germany. Nonetheless, as Neil Gregor has suggested for Germany, effective organization of these measures became an important barometer, for civilians, of the health of the regime. Civilian war relief either helped to underpin, or, when it failed, helped to undermine, people’s ongoing acceptance of authoritarian rule.121 The “exodus” in France showed French and Germans alike how not to arrange relief and reminded them of the perils of disorganization. Without this event, preemptive evacuations might not have occurred in Germany from the fall of 1940 onward. Fear of an “exodus” helped make these measures seem palatable to the Germans, rather than cowardly, as they had been viewed in the 1930s. After 1940, the French looked eastward to learn about the newest methods in air raid protection and evacuation. The Germans developed these more rapidly through the first half of the war, since their cities were subjected to more violent attacks than the French. Cognacq’s “establishment of contact” with the Germans was the most obvious example of this interaction. As the war continued, evacuation problems became more evident and Franco-German emulation grew. The same difficulties afflicted both countries, and although the solutions arrived at were not identical, they resembled one another in many respects. The general similarities, however, throw differences and variations into starker relief. If evacuations were on the whole organized in similar ways in France and Germany, for instance, why did the French prefer family placements for children to collective accommodation, closer evacuations to those further away? Some answers to these questions have been suggested above, and the theme of difference within a broad context of similarity is pursued at greater length below. Certainly, evacuations, and especially reactions to their more problematic aspects, were coloured by longer traditions and habits in both countries. Longer factors helped determine short-term wartime responses to aerial bombardment and ensured that despite many points of contact, German and French policies and practices remained distinct. Customs, habits, and traditions themselves, however, were less significant as markers of difference in evacuation policy than the will-

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ingness (or lack thereof ) of policymakers to allow for these factors in evacuation policy. Indeed, the amount of “space” left for longer-standing habits in the two countries differed significantly throughout the war. In France, policymakers tried to take nonmaterial considerations such as family ties or the attachment to one’s hometown more into account than their German counterparts. It was not that French people necessarily were more closely tied to their families or hometowns than Germans, or at least not in any obvious way. Rather, the difference lay in the French authorities’ willingness to let these attachments affect evacuations. The result of this difference for the success of measures in both countries is the subject of the chapters below.

    

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“D

 D. G [sic], in my hour of need and my despair, trustingly I turn to you.…” With these words, evacuee Toni G. began a six-page letter to the Reich Minister of Propaganda and Gauleiter of Berlin. Frau G., a 28-year old widow with one child, had left Berlin in September 1943. Hoping that a twoweek holiday in Bavaria would calm her nerves, raw from nightly bombardments, she found a tiny apartment in Lechbruck, Allgäu. Since she was happy there, she decided to stay on once the two weeks were up. At the end of May 1944, her Berlin apartment was completely destroyed in a daytime air raid and she lost everything. A month later, a man she had met after the death of her husband, and who had become her fiancé, was killed. Now, she wrote, “I have spent enough time at the school of the terror-bombers. I want nothing more than to experience with my child the victorious end of the war that will bring a new Germany.” At first, Frau G. told Goebbels, her Bavarian landlord Herr B. had been kind to her and had tried to make her stay more comfortable. Soon, however, he became a tyrant. Toni G. explained that she had made a friend in Lechbruck, a bombed-out mother of two who was the same age as herself and whose husband was missing in action. The women often sat together sewing in the afternoons, making sure that they and their children were adequately dressed despite the war. Although Frau G. claimed that she and her friend also sewed for busy farmers’ wives, the whole village had become jealous of their well-kept clothing. Worse, Toni G.’s landlord had decided that he did not want her friend, Frau P., to visit. Occasionally, when the bi-weekly movie came to the village, or just after Frau P. had borne her second child, Toni G. had invited her friend to spend the night. Now, however, Toni G. claimed that her landlord was trying “to rip this friendship apart with every means available to him.” She complained to Goebbels that Herr B. “forbids me to spend time with other people, I may have no visitors at all, and certainly no one can spend the night with me.” Herr B. and his family had begun dropping by her apartment daily, she reported, to make sure that she had no guests.

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Toni G. had brought her concerns to the attention of the local policeman, but that only made matters worse. According to her letter, her landlord then accused her of stealing his apples and persisted in making her life miserable. One of the other residents of Lechbruck had recently informed her that Herr B. planned to go to the local NSV to ask that she be thrown out of her apartment. Frau G. finished her letter by saying that she would on no account leave the apartment, nor give up her friendship with Frau P. She closed with a request: “Dear Dr. Goebbels, kindly please look into this matter, and help me against this underhandedness,” and continued, “as evacuees, we must listen to so many insults, like ‘bomb-women, Berlin big-snouts, pig-Prussians, etc.’ [Bombenweiber, Berliner Grosschnauzen, Saupreussen] that our stay gives us no pleasure.”1 Toni G.’s letter encapsulates many unpleasant aspects of a typical evacuees’ experience. From a short-lived welcome, through a soured relationship with the host, jealousy and regional slurs, a nasty, covetous landlord, and even the vague hint that Herr B. suspected some kind of “immoral” relationship between Frau G. and her friend—all of these are present in other accounts as well. It is equally characteristic that Herr B. should go to the NSV to ask for a resolution of the problem, and that Frau G., for her part, should write to Goebbels. The difficulties raised by evacuations came to a head in Germany and France in 1943, when these measures first took on massive proportions.2 Problems included the poor welcome evacuees received in the reception areas, longer-standing incompatibilities between urban and rural ways of life, work-related issues, and concerns associated with the morale and morals of the evacuees. As well as describing how French and German regimes reacted to evacuation challenges, this chapter and the next detail the responses of people like Toni G., ranging from apathy through disapproval and letter-writing, to outright opposition. These two chapters also explore state coercion in evacuations, and the means available to civilians to oppose ostensibly helpful, yet to them deeply problematic, government measures. Though most evacuations proceeded smoothly, there were ongoing difficulties with specific aspects of the measures.3 Evacuees benefited from the solicitude of the authorities, free transportation to reception areas, and the evacuees’ allowance. Those who transgressed, however, for example by returning from reception areas without permission, were punished. As the number of evacuees increased, they became a vocal segment of public opinion. Measures to serve them were strongly politicized, and the German and French regimes surprisingly had to deal gently with evacuees to ensure that their displeasure did not threaten the war effort. The impact of evacuees’ mood on wartime morale placed limits on the censure of their behaviour. Perhaps the greatest constant of evacuations, wherever they took place, was resentment between evacuees and hosts. To begin with, people in rural regions had trouble understanding what was like to have been subjected to aerial bom-

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bardment. Families who arrived traumatized after losing loved ones, homes, and belongings might be shuttled from house to house before permanent quarters could be found. In Germany, the SD reported from one town that: The reception was in no way heartfelt: the mayor was nowhere to be seen, and the leader of the local Party women’s organization did not look after a thing either. Only the town Party leader and two women of the NSV were present. Housing the evacuees on a voluntary basis was impossible. The Party leader was forced to call in the local gendarmerie to help. Although they had arrived in the afternoon, it was not until 8 o’clock that evening that the last of the women was accommodated.4

The SD noted that police had also had to intercede in a neighbouring community to oblige residents to take in evacuees. To foster a warmer welcome, Goebbels encouraged reception areas to send delegations to evacuees’ cities of origin to learn more about the situation.5 When voluntary quartering did not work, billets could be requisitioned using the wartime requisitioning law (Reichsleistungsgesetz) and later, the Order to Control Housing (Verordnung zur Wohnraumlenkung).6 Unwilling hosts were also taken to court—the Westfälische Landeszeitung (WLZ) reported in June 1943 that a local man had been arrested for refusing to take in a mother with two young children from Dortmund.7 Billeting remained an ongoing problem, however, and later the same year, Party Chancellery leader Martin Bormann noted that, “Even leading men of the party and state are very reluctant to take in evacuees and people who have been bombed-out.” He reminded them that they were to set a good example in this matter, as in all others.8 Even if they could not avoid them entirely, wealthier citizens found ways to make requisitions more bearable. The anti-Nazi nobleman Friedrich Percyval Reck-Malleczewen, for instance, confided in his diary in October 1944 that the housing commissioner had visited to requisition three rooms in his house. The commissioner promised to fill each room with an evacuated mother of at least three children. To stave off the appropriation of his precious library, among other spaces, Reck set about finding suitable “evacuees” himself. Since he lived near Munich, he decided that, “it was a matter of very quickly finding ‘bombed-out’ individuals in Munich; like-minded persons who won’t discover, by spying, what radio-station one listens to, and who won’t denounce one [to the police].”9 Reck offered accommodation to a reliable couple of wallpaperers he knew and a US artist still living undisturbed in Germany. Reck was thus able to evade the worst aspects of requisition, but his comments make it clear how awkward could be the forcible requisitions. Although Reck plainly objected to having to billet anyone at all, both the idea of housing small children and his own stance toward the regime made him reluctant to welcome strangers into his home. Requisitions favoured the self-policing of the population in the Third Reich.

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To foster better relations between evacuees and those who took them in, the two groups were told to behave as courteous guests and hosts, forming a community of mutual assistance in the host’s home. The SD suggested that after years of Nazi social programs, some Germans had unlearned the traditions of mutual aid and needed to be reminded how to help one another. People had become “used to not providing social assistance from person to person anymore, but rather, through the responsible [Party] organization. Now, through evacuees, certain national comrades [were] once again coming up against the need to act in an immediately social way.”10 Evacuations presented citizens with concrete opportunities to help, thereby demonstrating loyalty to the regime. Propaganda made Gastfreundschaft (hospitality) part of the war effort, reminding German citizens that, “those who understand hospitality in this way make a substantial contribution to final victory.”11 Whether it succeeded or not remains an open question, but the partnership between hosts and evacuees was meant to create, within each Hausgemeinschaft (household), a microcosm of the Volksgemeinschaft itself.12 In France as well, there was hostility between evacuees and the population in the reception areas. The Secours National noted that, “We must see things as they are: the evacuees leave only as a result of pressure and force; peasants and provincials, very often, receive them only reluctantly.”13 In France, as in Germany, accommodation could be requisitioned, in accordance with a law that pre-dated the German occupation.14 But requisition was not an ideal solution, and in order to foster better relations between hosts and evacuees, the Secours National also began a propaganda campaign to encourage hospitality. It was called “With Open Arms” (A Bras Ouverts), and was meant to ensure that, “no matter where in France, any Frenchman will feel he is among family! [en famille]”15 As this statement suggests, the French favoured family-style relations between hosts and guests, rather than telling evacuees and locals to form a supportive community group (Figure 4.1.). Attempts to bring evacuees and their hosts together were hampered by incompatibilities between rural life and the urban existence to which evacuees were accustomed. Conditions were relatively primitive in many reception areas, and the SD remarked that, “From the very beginning, a big-city woman does not bring with her the necessary ability to empathize, for instance with the conditions in a village in the alpine areas.” Urban women were uncomfortable with the absence not only of theatres and cafés, but also of far more basic things, such as running water in the kitchen and gas stoves with which to cook.16 Old hostilities between urbanites and peasants bubbled to the surface, and provided a framework to express new grievances. In France, problems with the food supply and rationing nourished resentment toward the peasantry throughout the war. Collaborationist newspapers tried to use this resentment to pressure the Vichy regime, claiming that the government’s efforts on evacuees’ behalf were insufficient. One article in La France Socialiste complained that the authorities were doing little to force rural residents to appropriately accommodate evacuees

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F .. With Open Arms! “With open arms! Inhabitants of ___________: Faced with the danger of bombardments, French citizens have had to flee, abandoning their house, their furniture, their memories, sometimes even someone who is dear to them … They arrive at your home deprived of everything, their hearts filled with sadness. Your welcome will be their only wealth and their sole consolation. The Secours National calls on you to exercise the great solidarity of our countrymen: any Frenchman should, no matter where in France, find himself among family! Welcome the evacuees with open arms! The Secours National thanks you for it” [translation by author]. Source: ADP: 24 W/11.

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and demanded “that from this very day, the most severe penalties be applied to those bad French who—the coincidence should not surprise us in the least—have already been able to carve out a life of ease for themselves from black market butter and clandestine pork.”17 Linking black market activity to an unwillingness to take in evacuees was built on stereotypes about peasants’ selfish rapacity to decry their lack of solidarity with urban evacuees. At the same time, hosts complained about urbanites who took advantage of the system by sending their children off to the countryside without appropriate clothing, or missing crucial ration tickets, like those for sugar and salt.18 In Germany, where distant evacuations prevailed, the rural/urban divide was overlaid by regional antagonisms. The SD suggested that, “In many cases difficulties of a purely personal nature make matters worse. They are the result of regional prejudice: Rhinelanders in Baden and Saxony, Berliners in East Prussia, etc.”19 Toni G. was not the only evacuee who could list the rude names Bavarians called Prussians. On the relatively rare occasions that French civilians were evacuated over long distances, comparable incompatibilities appeared. To French observers, however, long-distance evacuations were less coloured by regional differences per se than they were marked by a general sense of dislocation. The much decried phenomenon of “dépaysement” was seen as dangerous not only for evacuated Alsatians and Lorrainers in the French southwest in 1939–40, but also for coastal citizens transferred to the different landscape of the French interior. “Dépaysement,” a word that includes a direct reference to the “pays” (home country or region), goes beyond homesickness to describe a sense of being uprooted, away from one’s native soil. The préfet of maritime Manche noted that, “evacuation to the departments of the interior appears to be not only a true material catastrophe, but a real moral worry as well, for the evacuees, as soon as they do not feel themselves close to the sea, are completely confused and out of their element.”20 Their deep-seated mal du pays presented a serious threat to mood and morale. Yet evacuations were also an opportunity to bring together the populations of diverse regions. The authorities insisted that with appropriate sensitivity to regional difference, evacuations could forge a stronger national community. Like men in the army, German evacuees were encouraged to see themselves and their hosts as one Volk (Figure 4.2.). German evacuations had affinities with a prewar program, the Hitlerfreiplatzspende, in which families from the Reich heartland offered free holiday accommodation to fellow Germans from newly incorporated areas, such as Austria or the Sudetenland.21 In France, also, evacuations broadened horizons and may have had integrative effects over the long-term.22 Religious differences, in addition to regional disparities, dissimilar habits, and customs, coloured relationships between hosts and evacuated “guests.” This was perhaps less problematic in the religiously more homogenous France, although Protestants from Lorraine, notably, had difficulty finding places to worship in

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VON DER STADT AUF DAS LAND Oft sprechen unsere Umquartierten von Nöten und Sorgen, die durch die neue Umgebung entstanden sind. Unser Zeichner hat nun sechs kleine Bildchen vorgelegt, die geradezu sinnbildlich all das widerlegen, was man in schwachen Stunden künstlich aufzubauen bemüht ist. Es gibt tatsächlich keine solch große Gegensätze, daß sie nie überwunden werden könnten. Natürlich ist die Heimat, die man verlassen mußte, das Liebste, was man besitzt. Doch die Herzen der Gastgeber sind offen, wenn wir ihnen offen begegnen. So sollen auch diese Bildchen verstanden werden.

F .. From the City to the Land “Often our evacuees speak of needs and worries that have arisen from their new environment. Our artist has drawn six small pictures that symbolically refute all of the stories that one is tempted to concoct artificially in weak moments. There are no differences so great that they cannot be overcome. Naturally, the home that one has had to leave is the dearest thing that one possesses. But the hearts of the hostesses are open, when we approach them openly. So should these pictures also be understood. 1. Woman from the Black Forest: “I’ll share with you”; 2. Woman from Westphalia: “I’ll help you”; 3. The letter from Westphalia—the hostess participates; 4. The letter from the field—shared sentiments; 5. We too are one Volk!; 6. What’s the difference?” [translation by author]. Source: Mitteilungsblatt des Gaues Baden/Elsass für den Umquartierten, Issue 6 (June 1944), 2–3 (GLAKHE 465d/907).

the Catholic areas to which they were sent.23 In Germany, where Protestants were very often billeted with Catholics and vice versa, evacuated children’s religious education became a bone of contention. Catholic parents worried that children who boarded with non-Catholics would not be able to attend mass or take their first communion. Worse, older children who were evacuated with their peers lived in the collective accommodation of the KLV, where no religious instruction

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was permitted. The SD reported that, “Confessional circles hold the view that the goal of the whole evacuation program is to separate youths from their parental homes in order to raise them in camps as heretics.”24 In a postwar interview with the Allied authorities, Hitler Youth head Baldur von Schirach claimed that he had “advised Hitler in 1940 that if the evacuation of children was to proceed successfully, non-interference with religious practice was essential.” According to Schirach, “Hitler agreed,” yet KLV children were allowed only very occasionally to attend religious services and Christian observances were replaced by pseudotraditional “Germanic” festivals.25 Religious belief persisted, however, as evidenced by the diary of a 14-year old metalworker’s daughter from Essen, evacuated to a KLV camp in what is now the Czech Republic. Marion Lubien (a pseudonym) wrote in late December 1944 that, “Unfortunately none of us was really in a Christmas mood … who celebrates a winter solstice festival on Christmas eve?” On the same day, as if to make a deliberate contrast, Lubien also mentioned that, “On Friday we had mass. I was especially pleased when Hobby and Mima [two friends] also took communion. Hobby was delighted, and saw after all that this is the most wonderful thing in the world.”26 While Christian parents worried about their children’s religious education, party officials were concerned about the lessons “gottgläubige” children might learn when they boarded with traditionally devout families in the reception areas. “Gottgläubig” referred to those who no longer wished to be identified as belonging to an established church, but did not consider themselves atheist either. In practice, people who identified themselves this way were usually strong Nazis who scorned traditional religious beliefs. The official in charge of political education in Baden noted with dismay that, “It has happened that children of ‘gottgläubiger’ parents returned from the KLV and had been confirmed against their parents’ will.”27 In both Germany and France, the authorities thought the best solution to the problems caused by evacuation, whatever their source, was work. Work would cure homesickness, boost flagging morale, and help smooth over antagonisms between hosts and evacuated “guests.” The Cherbourg sous-préfet declared in 1943 that: In order to avoid … clashes between evacuees and indigenous populations, a work plan should be immediately envisaged in order to create— —on the one hand, a good moral climate for the evacuees who, having abandoned their homes, risk losing everything and will … need a distraction, of which the best is work; —and to provide, on the other hand, important assistance to the rural populations, whose attempts to develop production are hampered by the labour shortage.

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The rapid application of this plan will … create a favourable climate for a rapprochement between new and old elements of the community.28

The sous-préfet hoped that work would distract evacuees from their troubles, help the rural population, and even mediate between rural and urban populations. In practice, however, it was hard to find suitable work for evacuees. In France, apart from casualties and prisoners of war, most mobilized men returned home soon after the armistice and took up their old jobs. Although the compulsory labour service increasingly drained workers from France, there were few appropriate positions for non-farmers in villages that took in evacuees. Furthermore, since unemployed evacuees obtained the evacuees’ allowance, it was difficult to convince them to work unless they received a salary markedly higher than the amount of the allowance. To address this problem in Germany, one third of male evacuees’ income was left out of calculations for the evacuees’ allowance.29 Even before the German occupation, the French had decided that an evacuee’s allowance would be cut only if his or her new salary equalled the allowance plus 25 percent.30 On the other hand, evacuees who were obviously capable of working and who refused a fair offer of employment could be denied support. Mothers of young children were exempt from the requirement to work, as were fathers in the absence of the mother. Evacuees’ failure to find work, or in some cases even to seek it, created particular friction between them and their hosts. Urban housewives were not used to the routines of farm life and their hosts accused them of laziness when they did little to help around the house. One particularly irate southern German, Artur S., drew on stereotypes about “fast” urban women when he complained about the evacuees who hung around “day in, day out, without being forced to do any kind of work … made-up, with polished nails … and smoking cigarettes in public.” Such women, he felt, should be made to work.31 The leaders of the Third Reich agreed—evacuated women had no household of their own for the time being, so they were expected to lend a hand to their hosts. German policymakers, like the French, encouraged evacuees to work not only because they knew that their perceived laziness was a source of friction in the reception areas, but also because they thought idleness encouraged homesickness and gave evacuated women, especially, more time to complain. Evacuees arriving in Baden were told flatly that, “A farmer’s house is no hotel, but rather a house of hardest work for the farmer’s wife. Help her, insofar as you are able, and this work will on the one hand bring you a distraction, and on the other hand be a small sign of gratitude to your hosts.”32 This is why Toni G. emphasized in her letter to Goebbels that she sewed not only for herself, but also for local farmers’ wives. Clearly, most evacuated women were supposed to perform “women’s work”— helping farm wives with household tasks, looking after their own children, or those of others. Historian Miranda Pollard has written with regard to France that

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even when other forms of female labour were frowned upon, “Women’s agricultural labour was deemed acceptable because it fitted with a traditional definition of ‘women’s work’.”33 The same might be said of Germany, although the Germans became increasingly aware of the underexploited industrial labour pool represented by the evacuees. By the summer of 1943, they were making concerted efforts to marshal the energies of evacuated women into employment outside of the home or farm. From January 1943, all German women 17 to 45 were obliged to register for work.34 Because those with children under 14 were exempt from compulsory labour service, however, and most evacuated women fell into this category, they still had to be cajoled into making their labour contribute to the war effort. To this end, the local liaison officer (Kreisverbindungsmann) of Westfalen-Süd in Pforzheim (Baden) surveyed evacuated women in his area in the last week of August 1943.35 The Kreisverbindungsmann detailed quite sympathetically the reasons for women’s reluctance to work, noting that the evacuees had gone through a great deal and found the experience of being away from home overwhelming and unsettling. Some had lost loved ones, or were worried about their husbands at the Front, while many mothers preferred to care for their children themselves. Until their entitlement to the evacuees’ allowance had been sorted out, they might have no appropriate work clothing or shoes. Finally, the Kreisverbindungsmann noted that, “Above all, the evacuees come from a region where women’s factory work is not as well anchored in the tradition as it is here in the Pforzheim region. It [is], for instance, noticeable that most of the women had worked as maids before; then, naturally, they left the working life after their marriages.”36 Since WestfalenSüd’s women had been domestic servants before marriage, they were unfamiliar with factory work, and both they and their male relatives probably saw it as inappropriate, especially for married women. Different regional patterns in women’s employment compounded evacuees’ reluctance to work and made it harder to channel them into non-traditional sectors. Despite such problems, the liaison officer’s survey met with some success. Of 455 evacuated women approached, 132 (29 percent) were convinced to take a job, and another 25 (5 percent) declared themselves willing to help look after the children of others. The rest were considered either unable or unwilling to work, although the liaison officer added that a re-examination of each case might allow more women to be employed at a later date. It was clear that while some of the evacuees might look after others’ children, the majority would go to work in the armaments industry.37 The nearest city, Pforzheim, was too far away to commute daily, but the women could take part-time work in industrial branch plants that had relocated to smaller towns to avoid bombardment. Conflicts arose over whether married women’s income should be factored into the calculations for the evacuees’ allowance. At first, such income was not included, for the total number of adult evacuees was small, and of these, few worked. By mid 1943, more working-age women were being evacuated and the

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most employable among them had few or no young children. Contemporaries argued that allowing these women to add a salary to their allowances represented “a bonus for childlessness, for only childless women are usually able to seek a source of income outside the home.”38 Since living costs in small villages were less than in the city, moreover, there were persistent fears about female evacuees’ “vagabond buying power,” and the dangers prosperity posed to their morals.39 One contemporary reported that, “Cases are … not rare,” in which a woman, entitled to part of her husband’s wages, her own wages, and the evacuees’ allowance, had income that amounted to “double or even more of the earlier, pre-evacuation, income.”40 Another claimed that, “It [was] often observed that soldiers’ wives and evacuees [had] unjustifiably high amounts of money at their disposal. As a result, these women [were] said to be seen frequently in first class railway cars.”41 Female evacuees’ income was not counted in the calculations for the family allowance, which further risked giving these women “advantages vis à vis male evacuees.”42 Contemporaries saw stricter rules about the allowance, and work itself, as the most effective ways to control spendthrift and potentially immoral female evacuees. Artur S., the same southern German who had complained about urban women’s make-up and nail polish, thought that entitlement to the allowance actually should be made contingent on evacuees’ employment.43 Yet the authorities were torn between their disciplinary inclinations and an unwillingness to do anything that would discourage employable women from taking a job. In the spring of 1944, to address fears about excessive buying power, they again considered suspending allowances to working women. This measure was to have applied only to women who were eligible for compulsory work service (childless women, or mothers with children over 14 years), since they could not refuse employment.44 Still, the question remained politically volatile, for forcing women to take jobs and suspending their allowances once they had a salary risked not only alienating them, but also upsetting their male relatives at the Front. The result was that when new rules about the allowances were drafted in the fall of 1944, the old system was maintained. Evacuated women were permitted to keep their incomes to supplement the evacuees’ allowance.45 The Germans also thought that children should be kept busy to ease homesickness and avoid trouble. KLV programs were designed with this in mind and evacuees staying with a family were encouraged to perform light housekeeping tasks for their hosts. However, the authorities recognized that the exploitation of young children, however tempting on understaffed wartime farms, must be avoided, because it increased homesickness and encouraged children to run away from their hosts’ homes.46 Especially by 1944, the Germans came to see evacuated civilians in France too as an unexploited resource. After most of the population of Cherbourg was evacuated in 1943 and early 1944, the local Feldkommandant (field commander) asked the French to provide him with a list of employable men between the ages of 16

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and 60, and women living by themselves, for, “It is absolutely necessary to direct this labour to urgent work.”47 Significantly, the Feldkommandant asked only for a census of women living alone, i.e., those who were unmarried and presumably childless. The Germans had doubtless learned from their experiences in Germany that it made little sense to try to force married women to take jobs. The French government, too, remained averse to married women’s employment outside of the home, though it was well aware of the importance of their labour within it.48 The French nevertheless made the same correlation as the Germans between evacuees’ failure to work and moral laxity. This association was present even before the occupation, for during the Phony War, citizens in Calvados were reminded that, “At the moment when the nation calls to all those who, not mobilized, must contribute by their work to the victory of our arms, it is inadmissible that certain people, notably among the refugees, are satisfied with the allowance to which this status entitles them, and lead a lazy life.”49 To limit such “laziness,” the French authorities asked mayors to list evacuees, categorizing the men by age and employability. Women and girls over 15 were lumped together regardless of age, however, confirming that while French men 15 to 65 would be mobilized for work, women would not.50 Failure to work was taken as a sign of the evacuees’ moral weakness, something that continued to concern greatly the French and German authorities. In Germany, party officials made it clear that only women of irreproachable character were worthy of state-supported evacuations. Historian Elizabeth Heineman has described how wartime tended to elide the experiences of single and married women, now that so many married women were “standing alone.” One consequence of this, in Germany, was that the category of “asocial,” that had hitherto focused on single women, expanded to take in increasing numbers of married women. Evacuated women, like soldiers’ wives, were living without their husbands and the state began to pay greater attention to “policing” their morals.51 In early June 1943, the NSV district leader in German Strasbourg reminded his staff that, “One way or another we must discipline loose women and irresponsible mothers, and if they can not be reformed, we must send them home, for we can not use such women in our region either.”52 The NSV leader’s remarks implied that he thought “loose” women had been evacuated deliberately to get them out of their home cities. He did not want to be responsible for urban troublemakers. His remarks indicated, moreover, that since women were evacuated essentially in order to look after their children, failure to do so could be put on a par with other lapses, like adultery. Any evacuee who spent too much time away from her quarters, especially after dark, might come under suspicion of leading a dissolute lifestyle (liederlichen Lebenswandel). Her difficulties multiplied if it could be proven that she had had a relationship with anyone of the opposite sex. Whatever the actual nature of Toni G.’s relationship with her friend, Frau P., their case suggests that even

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very close female friendships seemed suspicious to some villagers.53 By removing women from their usual sphere, evacuations took away customary restraints on their behaviour, and the regime feared they might favour immorality. Evacuations separated nuclear families and dissolved neighbourhood networks of friends and extended family that might put a brake on women’s habits.54 Accusations of immoral behaviour were rarely levelled at evacuated men, and it appears that in most cases evacuees, rather than their hosts, were perceived to be at fault. A rare exception to this rule was the case of a certain Herr G., who apparently molested the children of an evacuated family staying at his home. Herr G. came to the attention of the NSV and was taken into custody, where he tried to commit suicide.55 Generally, however, it was the urbanites who were thought to add a new and dangerous element to the rural landscape; idle and tempting, they distracted good honest farmers, or allowed themselves to be seduced by prisoners of war and foreign workers. Concerns were voiced about the pernicious influence urban youth might have on local children, again indicating that the city was seen as the major source of vice. An NSV representative in Baden wrote that, “The older youth, especially from the coal-producing areas, are not only much more mature, but also sharper, freer, and in general not as naïve about life as, for example, our local youth…. On top of all this, these school-children bring with them a negative internal attitude that complicates both their settling-in, and leadership by the host parents, particularly.”56 Here, resentment of urban evacuees was combined with fears about the attitudes they might impart to local youth, who were assumed to be more innocent, naïve, and perhaps also more loyal National Socialists. Although city dwellers were viewed as a threat to chaste rural reception areas within Germany, when evacuees were sent to reception areas outside the Reich heartland, the tables turned, and the evacuees themselves were thought to be at risk. Evacuees to the Wartheland, in occupied Poland, were cautioned not to be “fooled by the smooth hypocritical nature of the Pole … The German is master. His mastery must, however, be shown through his admirable bearing [Haltung] and achievements alone. Your bearing also matters! … Between Germans and Poles there can be no community [Gemeinschaft]. Keep your distance from Poles.” Such propaganda alerted evacuees to the dangers supposedly posed by the local population. It discouraged intimacy between evacuees and Poles without being explicit about the kind of intimacy the regime feared most.57 As Friedrich Percyval Reck-Malleczewen’s account above suggests, evacuees and hosts were in an ideal position to keep an eye on each other’s moral and political attitudes. Some hosts did not hesitate to report behaviour they deemed inappropriate. The local NSV then made further inquiries, and if the charges could be proven, sent the evacuee home. Westfalen-Süd’s Gauleiter, Albert Hoffmann, specified that, “Evacuated citizens [Volksgenossen] who, despite warnings, behave in the reception area in a way that disturbs the community, can be removed …

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in order for didactic measures to be carried out.” Most disobedient evacuees were simply sent home to the bombs, but for children and young people whose behaviour was less than exemplary, “housing in an NSV youth home or a correctional institution [NSV.-Jugendheimstätten und Einrichtungen der Erziehungsfürsorge]” might be arranged.58 The experience of Frau A. of Recklinghausen, evacuated to upper Bavaria, demonstrates the role of party and “hosts” in policing the morals of evacuated women. Apparently, Frau A.’s husband wrote to the NSV in Berchtesgaden, where she was living, to complain that his sister had told him his wife was unfaithful. NSV representatives looked into the situation, decided that Frau A. should be sent home, but were then distressed to find that her husband, “let his wife talk him into explaining to us that everything that was being said about her was not true, and [that] he insisted absolutely that she stay here.” Upon further investigation, the NSV found that, “The evacuated Frau [J.], who lives in the same house, stuck to her statements [about the conduct of Frau A.] and at the same time, the owner of the house wants Frau [A.] to be removed. That soldiers went in and out of the house at night has been proven.” The NSV representatives then wrote to the NSV in the woman’s home district that “such a woman is not at all worthy of being looked after by the NSV. We give you until the 15th of February 1944 to call this woman back home. If you do not, her return will be arranged from here.” Whether or not her husband agreed, Frau A. would be sent home.59 Frau A’s case shows that the NSV became deeply involved in ensuring that only the most “worthy” women were evacuated. It also demonstrates how a husband might try to use the party, at least for a time, to guarantee his wife’s fidelity.60 Particularly significant is the fact that even when Frau A.’s husband hesitated to pursue the matter further, the party organization insisted that Frau A. was not worthy of evacuation, and planned to send her home. In France, concerns about the morality of evacuated women were less apparent, and evacuees were not identified as a vulnerable group in the same way as they were in Germany. This was partly because despite the large number of prisoners of war and men working for the German forces in France or in Germany, more French men were at home. The assumption on the part of the regime seems to have been that women therefore would be less tempted to stray, and that if they did, their husbands could deal privately with the matter.61 French evacuations were generally less distant and shorter in duration, so the potential for infidelity was less compared to Germany. The moral behaviour of “lone” women, like prisoner of war wives, concerned the regime a great deal, as Sarah Fishman has described, but these women were distinguished from the mass of evacuees by the prolonged absence of their husbands. Evacuees in France were not singled out as a particularly endangered (or dangerous) female group.62 Still, it was possible for French evacuees to be sent home for moral reasons. In one case, public rumour brought a 14-year-old girl to the attention of the

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local inspector in charge of children’s evacuations (inspecteur de placements familiales). Apparently, the girl had had “on repeated occasions, intimate relations with young boys of the village (15 and 15 and a half years old).” Such a youngster could not be placed with a different family or sent to collective accommodation for evacuated children, so her mother was asked to take her home to Sottevilleles-Rouen.63 In this case, French authorities intervened to send an evacuee home for moral reasons, but the evacuee in question was a minor. The state censured the behaviour of a young evacuated woman, but interfering in such an active way in an adult’s private life would have been more complicated, and the regime seemed unwilling to take such a step. In Germany, the Nazis perceived evacuees as a “detached” group of children and women, alone and vulnerable in reception areas far from home. Removed from their natural sphere, they were believed to be particularly at risk, both in terms of their morals, and their morale. Evacuation was a golden opportunity for the party to intervene in the lives of individuals who might otherwise have had very little to do with it, and policymakers sought to compensate for evacuees’ isolation by drawing them closer to the regime. To overcome regional differences and reinforce the community ties thought to favour good behaviour and well being, there were concerted efforts to link evacuees’ home and reception areas. Ruhrgebiet evacuees in Baden, for instance, could receive a newspaper from home, and for a time, the cumbersomely-titled Mitteilungblatt des Gaues Baden/Elsass der NSDAP für die Umquartierten (NSDAP Newsletter of the Gau Baden-Alsace for the Evacuees) answered their questions and covered events in their home cities.64 The newsletter first appeared in January 1944, and then monthly until at least October of that year, and the fact that closely rationed paper was devoted to this endeavour so late in the war underlines the importance and volatility of evacuees’ morale. Representatives of the home region also visited evacuees, as in the fall of 1943, when Gauleiter Hoffmann of Westfalen-Süd traveled to Baden to hear evacuees’ concerns and encourage them to stop returning home without permission.65 At first, this kind of liaison work was relatively informal, but it increasingly was supported by the NSV and the Secours National. By 1943, both France and Germany, though particularly the latter, had set up formal networks of evacuation inspectors and liaison officers, who served at times as morality police. Generally drawn from the ranks of the evacuees themselves, they helped solve practical problems, and mediated between evacuees and their hosts. Liaison officers also reported on the morale of evacuees to the higher authorities and brought their misdemeanours, if serious, to the attention of the police. German liaison officers were usually party members, though they were also teachers, social workers, and at the local level, even housewives. In a statement in June 1943, Westfalen-Süd established guidelines for these individuals. Their activities would be overseen by a Sonderbeauftragte (special representative), who

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was directly responsible to the home Gauleiter. Since the NSV was in charge of evacuations at the point of origin, the Sonderbeauftragte simply oversaw the arrangements. However, the rules emphasized that, “When difficulties arise, the Sonderbeauftragte must intercede immediately in the name of the Gauleiter. He must eliminate resistance and keep the Gauleiter informed of the situation.”66 The Sonderbeauftragte’s key responsibility was keeping in touch with all of the areas that received evacuees from Westfalen-Süd, including safer parts of the home Gau. To assist him, there were Gaubeauftragten (Gau representatives) in each of Westfalen-Süd’s designated reception areas and additional representatives at the district (Kreis) and even town (Ort) level. The instructions for the lowest levels in the hierarchy, the Kreis- and Ortsverbindungsmänner, explained that, “They must be members of the National Socialist Party, and aside from that, have the capacity to lead politically and look after the victims of bombardment in the reception area.”67 Political leadership was just as important as dealing with the everyday needs of the evacuees, and liaison officers were responsible for making sure that every evacuee felt the watchful eye of the party upon her. Westfalen-Süd’s guidelines encouraged Gaubeauftragte to deploy, for example, an NSV social worker from the home region who knew the “temperament” of the evacuees well, for such a person could both help evacuees feel more at home in the reception areas, and ensure that they “find their way to the party.”68 Revealingly, local liaison officers were first called Verbindungsmänner (liaison men), before the name was changed in October 1943 to Vertrauensmänner (trusted men), which was also the term for police informers.69 Many Vertrauens“männer” were actually women. At the district and town level, volunteer liaison officers were drawn from the ranks of the evacuees themselves, and they could be female as long as they were members of the party women’s organization (NS-Frauenschaft). Although the guidelines suggest that using women was initially intended to be exceptional, records for Baden show that in the district of Lörrach, nearly half the town representatives were women. Of 20 town representatives, 11 were men, 4 were married or widowed women, and 5 unmarried women. Given the preponderance of women among the evacuees, it made sense to have women as lower-level liaison officers.70 In early 1944, this became official policy for Westfalen-Süd evacuees in Baden. Male liaison officers were instructed to find a suitable woman to act as a district or town helper (Kreishelferin, Ortshelferin), and instructions given to these women explained that “District and town helpers come into play everywhere where women must be approached as women and where, therefore, this can not be done by a man, or at least not successfully enough. For example, this can be in terms of good housekeeping, leading an irreproachable lifestyle, and communal living.”71 This definition of the role of female helpers, that emphasized private, domestic, and moral matters, shows that male party representatives worried about their inability to reach women evacuees on these levels. The party hoped that helpers would be able to bridge

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this gap, talking “woman to woman” with evacuees, monitoring their behaviour, and tying them more closely to the regime. Despite the fact that evacuees’ morality was of grave concern, Kreis- and Ortshelferinnen were nonetheless warned that, “From the outset, it would certainly be wrong if [they] came across as a kind of household- and morality police, and looked for small mistakes and weaknesses in these areas.” Rather than picking out minor lapses, Kreis- and Ortshelferinnen were supposed to encourage appropriate behaviour by leading by example. Perhaps some Kreis- and Ortshelferinnen had been involved in petty fault-finding; at least, the above statement reflects anxiety on the part of male liaison officers that the women would take their investigative role too far, using their position in “typically female” fashion to pry into others’ affairs. This was all rather disingenuous, however, as the Kreis- and Ortshelferinnen were encouraged to act as household and morality police anyway and neighbourly surveillance had been elevated into a national duty. The women were warned against excessive nosiness, but at the same time told to bring “especially crass instances of behaviour unworthy of the community” to the immediate attention of the authorities.72 In France, liaison with, and surveillance of, evacuees was less formal. One participant was C.O.S.I. (Comité Ouvrier de Secours Immédiat), a charitable organization to help victims of Allied air raids, set up by collaborationists with German backing. C.O.S.I. argued that the Vichy regime itself was doing little to help evacuees and sought to draw them closer to the extreme collaborationist camp. Partly because French evacuees were less isolated to begin with, C.O.S.I. was only marginally successful in its goal, and despite its pretensions, most evacuees’ problems were actually dealt with by the French state and the mainstream paragovernmental aid organization, Secours National. French measures were more dispersed and local than the German. They mainly sought to strengthen existing social structures, especially the family, rather than creating new loyalties to the regime. Practical problems in France were dealt with by the Direction des Réfugiés of the home department or the reception area. Municipalities sent delegates to reception areas to sort out administrative issues, while Secours National and departmental social workers, volunteers of the Secours National, associated charities, and Church representatives helped evacuees get settled. At the end of May 1943, for example, after the first compulsory evacuation of Cherbourg, a local priest, Father Lebas, travelled to the Loiret region for five days to visit 30 communities billeting evacuees. Upon his return, Lebas reported to the Cherbourg sous-préfet that the authorities in the Loiret had been welcoming and most evacuees were comfortably accommodated. On the other hand, they were still having trouble finding work and making arrangements to get the evacuees’ allowance. Food was expensive and in short supply because the Loiret was “a land of large-scale cultivation where vegetables are rare and meat even more so.”73 This contrasted with

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dairy-farming Normandy, where even in the city small market gardens flourished, and fish was available to supplement the diet.74 To help evacuees, the farming community of Montebourg, near Cherbourg, donated a truckload of food, which Lebas reported had been well-received, both because evacuees appreciated the extra nourishment, and because it demonstrated the home region’s spirit of solidarity. Occasionally, the prefectures or the Direction des Réfugiés in Paris sent representatives to check on conditions in the reception areas and to reassure evacuees that the government was concerned about their welfare.75 Since evacuees’ private lives were for the most part left alone, liaison officers like those used in Germany were not employed in France. As we have seen, however, children were an exception to this rule, and evacuated teachers and school principles inspected potential foster families, helped set up facilities, and generally kept an eye on children in the reception areas. These individuals reported to the academic inspector of the evacuees’ home region about problems ranging from minor misbehaviour, through bed-wetting, to mistreatment of the children by their foster families. The inspectors were, to some extent, a French equivalent of the German liaison officers.76 On the whole, though, the French regime was less concerned about keeping evacuees happy than the German. Apart from the obvious fact that the French state was not actively fighting the war, and morale on the home front was therefore less crucial than in Germany, French evacuations remained smaller in scale and shorter in duration. The real problem, for the French, was the occupation and its attendant discomforts, which affected all citizens together. Because of this, French evacuees did not take on the same political coherence or importance as their German counterparts. For the most part, the regime did not consider either evacuees’ morale or their morals to be any more at risk than those of other French citizens. C.O.S.I.’s collaborationists tried to mold evacuees into a coherent group that could be used to exert pressure on the Vichy regime, but they were largely unsuccessful, and evacuees remained an amorphous mass, undifferentiated from the rest of the occupied French citizenry.77 The government itself rarely devoted special propaganda to them, and while sympathizing with their situation, it avoided making them into martyrs because this would have involved too much potentially embarrassing finger-pointing—either at the Allies, who were dropping the bombs, or the Germans, who had ordered many of the evacuations, and started the war in the first place. This contrasted with prisoner of war wives, for example, who formed a coherent group with whom everyone could sympathize without offending. Evacuees in France were seen as one segment of a whole suffering nation, and did not represent the uprooted, possibly undisciplined, and certainly endangered, group of single women that the German regime saw in its own evacuated population. By late 1942, it was clear that the number of evacuees was growing rapidly, and better overall coordination of measures would be necessary to respond to

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the aerial threat. The same problems that encouraged the creation of a system of liaison officers in Germany and local inspectors in France also argued for a more centralized organization of evacuation measures.78 The Germans therefore established the Interministerielle Luftkriegsschädenausschuß (Interministerial Air War Damages Committee), which sat for the first time on 28 January 1943, and included representatives of the major ministries, as well as the military, NSV, Reich youth leadership, and other bodies that dealt with the aftermath of aerial bombardments.79 From the early summer of 1943 until at least mid March of 1945, the committee issued regular bulletins to guide local authorities on various aspects of air war and evacuation.80 The director of the Luftkriegsschädenausschuß was Goebbels, who had already been given ultimate authority over central measures to assist bomb-damaged cities. Placing the committee under Goebbels’ control underlined the importance of evacuees’ morale to the war effort. Reich Chancellery head Lammers wrote that Goebbels was the man for the job not because he was a Reich minister, but because he was “an energetic personality of high political standing and far-reaching influence on the Volk.”81 After an air raid, people needed the strong, clear leadership Goebbels could provide. In February 1943, just a month after the Germans had founded their organization, the French created the Service Interministerielle de Protection contre les Evenements de Guerre (Interministerial Service for Protection against the Events of War, or S.I.P.E.G.). S.I.P.E.G., like its German counterpart, was intended to direct, unify, and inspire air raid protection activities, including civilian evacuations. Its director was Jean Lacombe, who was granted the status of préfet, while ultimate authority lay with the head of government, Pierre Laval.82 The creation of both S.I.P.E.G. and the Luftkriegsschädenausschuß was a sign of the changing nature of the evacuations that accompanied ever-growing destruction. People now understood that being evacuated meant leaving home for the duration of the conflict. This both made them more reluctant to leave and exacerbated the problems caused by the evacuations. At the same time, in view of the dire housing situation in western Germany, the Gauleiter’s representative in Düsseldorf, Overhues, among others, thought that “an evacuation of citizens who are not part of the workforce … like retired people, pensioners, old and frail individuals or couples [would have to take place] … using pressure if necessary.”83 Overhues thought evacuations might have to become compulsory, a viewpoint he justified on the grounds that “War everywhere necessitates interventions into the personal freedom of the individual in favour of the community.”84 But what kinds of “interventions” into personal freedom did war really justify? Could civilians be forced to leave their homes? How would German and French evacuees respond to infringements on their personal freedom that Overhues and others viewed as necessary? By not signing up for state programs, or failing to board evacuation trains, many people avoided being evacuated. If they did leave home and problems arose in the reception areas, they turned to the NSV for help,

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or wrote letters to the highest authorities complaining about their predicament. Toni G. was one of many who turned to Goebbels, Gauleiter of her home city, and head of the Ministry of Propaganda, which acted as a kind of public relations office for the Reich. If complaining to the authorities proved fruitless, frustrated evacuees simply packed their bags and came home. Especially from the summer of 1943, the number of evacuees returning without permission from the reception areas rose. German observers estimated that, in some areas, as many as one third of all evacuees left their assigned quarters, either to move into other housing or to go home.85 In 1943, there was a significant increase in German-ordered evacuations in France, yet even when the Germans threatened French evacuees with serious sanctions, they too returned home without permission. This problem had appeared as early as 1939, when the SD reported in mid December that local German authorities were having a hard time deciding what to do about the “so-called wild returnees” (sogenannten wilden Rückwanderer). By the end of that month, the SD noted that, “the torrent returning to the home regions is so large that in a short time almost the entire population of some districts will be living at home again.”86 “Wild returns” persisted, and though it is hard to gauge their full extent, local statistics give insight into the problem. In 1943, for instance, the school authorities in Munich reported that of 40,450 children who had been removed from the city, 4,570 (over 10 percent) had returned by 20 October 1943. A municipal councillor, who visited children from Essen in Swabia and the Tyrol in July 1943, reported that the percentage of returns was about 15 percent.87 In Hamburg, Marie-Luise Recker has found that about 120,000 of over 620,000 evacuees from the summer of 1943 had returned home by the beginning of 1944.88 More generally, the Reich Statistics Office claimed in October 1943 that there were a total of 3.29 million German evacuees. By January 1944, this number had increased to about 3.34 million, but considering the resources put into evacuations at the time, this was not a very significant increase.89 It seems likely that the large number of people returning from the reception areas in late 1943 was to blame.90 French figures are likewise difficult to ascertain, but the Secours National estimated, for example, that between May 1943 and January 1944, 15,000 of 35,000 obligatory evacuees from Cherbourg had returned home.91 This estimate, which represents a 42 percent return rate, seems high even for a coastal city subject to obligatory evacuation. Statistics tracing children evacuated by the government from Rouen to the department of Eure suggest much lower return rates, though they are inconclusive, and children would have been less likely to return home unless their parents came to get them.92 We might conclude, very tentatively, that somewhere between 10 percent and 30 percent of all evacuees returned home, but this figure fluctuated from region to region and depended upon factors ranging from the situation on the war front to the weather. Still, since no evacuees at

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all were supposed to be returning to the cities, even a 10 percent return rate was a problem. “Wild returnees” threatened the French and German regimes on a number of levels. They complicated transportation and food provision, not to mention overall administration, enormously. Especially for the German leadership, that sought total control over the population, the independent spontaneity of evacuees’ action was deeply disturbing. Evacuees who returned home “illegally” thumbed their noses at authority and drew attention to a crack in the state’s armour. Germans had felt superior to the French because they had imagined that a chaotic mass-migration like the 1940 “exodus” could never happen at home, but the returning flood of thousands of evacuees raised the spectre of just such an event. Despite many attempts to make disobedient evacuees behave, even the Germans were eventually forced to admit that this was impossible. Disciplinary measures that might work in the army or against ostracized segments of the population could not be used against women and children who were members of the Volksgemeinschaft. If the regime was unable to control its own citizens, however, what chance would it have to win a complicated two-front war? The present chapter explores some of the problems evacuations caused to explain why people disliked them so much and why they might have preferred to return home to the bombs. The French and German regimes’ responses to these challenges traced a fine line between incentives for good behaviour and repression of bad behaviour. When the population’s refusal to stay in the reception areas became striking from 1943 onward, the authorities were obliged to consider whether it was possible to force evacuees who returned home to leave again. Two case studies in chapter five explore this issue. The first examines Witten, in the German Ruhrgebiet, while the second looks at the Norman port city of Cherbourg. The experience of evacuees from these places suggests that notwithstanding repressive regimes in Hitler’s Germany and occupied France, evacuees could and did contest government efforts to control evacuation. Using claims based on the intrinsic rights of individuals and families, citizens forced far-reaching changes to evacuation policies and tested the coercive power of authoritarian states at war.

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I

  F , Heinrich Himmler hosted over 300 people at an unprecedented conference. Nazi Gauleiter met collectively with their state counterparts, the Oberbürgermeister (regional mayors), to coordinate party and state responses to “the necessities of war.”1 Evacuation measures were a key subject of discussion, and a Ministry of the Interior representative named Jacobi gave a surprising speech calling for flexibility. In contrast to earlier views that insisted family unity should be sacrificed to wartime necessity, Jacobi argued that, “Experience has shown that the most difficult circumstances on the Home Front may be more easily tolerated, if only family unity can be maintained. It is hard to put obstacles in the way of this desire.”2 Struck by Jacobi’s comments, Himmler rebutted them directly, underlining the importance of community discipline, and warning that only chaos would result from “egotistical” evacuations like those that had occurred in France in 1940.3 However, by 1944, Himmler’s view was that of a minority, for Reich leaders were increasingly convinced that mass evacuations completely disregarding family ties no longer made sense. It had taken a long time for the authorities to come to this conclusion. Family togetherness gave a boost to morale and most people clung to their families, especially in wartime. Although evacuations were intended to save lives, they had many repercussions on family life. Evacuated families lucky enough not to be physically separated from each other were uprooted from their homes and neighbourhoods, the central loci of family life. Conditions in the reception areas were less than ideal, and the personal, religious, and cultural differences between hosts and evacuated “guests” reminded evacuees that they were not at home and they could not feel at ease as they would with their own families. Evacuations risked irreversibly weakening family ties, and by undermining the cohesiveness and morale of families, they threatened the mood of the population more generally. Policymakers were aware of this problem, but especially in Germany, they underestimated its significance. German evacuation planners, particularly those belonging to party organizations, failed to take the family sufficiently into ac-

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count. The National Socialist attitude toward families was contradictory. On the one hand, the regime valued what it saw as the family’s basic function—reproduction—for Interior Minister Frick had claimed in 1934 that, “The family is the primordial cell of the Volk.”4 On the other hand, the party downplayed bonds between family members, distrusting family ties because they might get in the way of a citizen’s loyalty to the Reich. During an evacuation, policymakers believed that greater identification with the Führer and Volksgemeinschaft could compensate for the missing family.5 German evacuation programs did little to recognize family unity, and by 1943, this oversight was the main cause of widespread popular opposition to evacuation measures. In France, on the other hand, family was not only one of the three pillars of the state (“Travail, Famille, Patrie”), but it was also taken more seriously by evacuation planners. French evacuations were shorter in duration, kept evacuees closer to home, and recognized family ties more. The value policymakers placed on the family was particularly evident when the occupied French authorities, faced with orders to evacuate major coastal cities, negotiated with the Germans to ensure that families were taken into consideration. In evacuation, as in other areas of social policy, the Germans subsumed individual and family interests into those of a centralized national community, while the French tended to stress voluntary measures, mutual aid, and the family.6 The way that different attitudes toward families shaped evacuations is the theme of this chapter, which focuses on the interaction between dissatisfied evacuees and the German and French regimes. Two case studies, examining the Ruhrgebiet city of Witten, and the French city of Cherbourg, show that of all evacuations’ problems, the dispersal of their families most deeply affected evacuees. Civilians objected to evacuations from the outset, and as early as 1939, began returning home without permission. They did so partly because conditions in the reception areas were poor and they missed their homes, but they also returned to their native cities to rejoin those they had left behind. When propagandists in both countries claimed, however ambiguously, to want to strengthen families, while the evacuations they promoted threatened them deeply, unhappy evacuees were able to exploit the gap between pro-family rhetoric and the real conditions of evacuated life. Particularly dramatically during a public demonstration in the German town of Witten, evacuated women used claims based on the natural rights of families to convince policymakers to alter evacuation measures. The demonstration highlighted a profound contradiction in Nazi policy brought on by the war and even questioned the legitimacy of the regime. Victoria de Grazia has shown how family interests, once they have been politicized by a modern state, can become a basis for opposition to that state. She calls this phenomenon “oppositional familism.” “Oppositional familism” was perhaps older and more rooted in Italy, where distrust of government ran deeper and many people, de Grazia argues, came to “believe that the family existed apart

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from the society, as a refuge against political intrusions rather than as a pillar of the nation-state.”7 However, the insecurity created by the war and the extreme intrusiveness of the Nazi regime threw Germans and French back on their families in a way that reinforces the similarities between the cases.8 In trying to do for their families what they thought was best, even when it ran counter to official policies, evacuees suggested that they knew better than the state what their families needed and questioned the state’s right to intervene in family life at all. Feminist historians have sometimes suggested that citizens, especially women, objected to the broader family policies of the Third Reich and Vichy because of their socially conservative aspects. In order to encourage reproduction, both regimes sought to remove women from the public sphere and return them to the home. But it is easy to exaggerate the degree to which women, especially, found this return to tradition disturbing. Miranda Pollard, in her study of the Vichy regime’s “mobilization” of gender, depicts the family as a locus of state-driven oppression of women.9 However, as Karen Offen has noted, the focus on male discourse about women in gender-based analyses such as Pollard’s can result in a portrait of women largely deprived of historical agency. It may not enable the reader to judge how women themselves reacted to the “anti-feminist” policies of the regime.10 The traditional ideal of the patriarchal family was certainly restrictive, but the alternatives were unattractive, and the family still seemed the best refuge from the turmoil of war.11 Women sought to strengthen their families and supported government policies that would help them do so. The negative reaction provoked by evacuations suggests that the nuclear family remained the primary unit of daily life for most people and that they were willing to fight to keep it intact. The case study that follows shows that women who demonstrated publicly at Witten did so not because they objected evacuations per se, nor because they were upset about propaganda encouraging them to be good wives and mothers. They demonstrated because, while propagandists said women should maintain the family and home (and women themselves agreed), evacuations made that impossible, taking mothers and children to far-off Baden and leaving fathers to fend for themselves in the city. The first case study, then, examines the origins of the Witten demonstration, its impact, and the results for German evacuation policy. The second case study provides a French counterpoint, investigating German-ordered evacuations in Cherbourg. In France, the contradiction between the regime’s pro-family rhetoric and evacuations was just as obvious as in Germany, particularly if evacuation measures were ordered by the Germans. However, this contradiction did not give rise to a dramatic protest like the one at Witten. The main reason was that despite occupation, the French authorities supported an attitude toward evacuation that accorded more with their pro-family rhetoric and with French citizens’ own values. By insisting on French-style evacuations in the face of German disapproval, the French authorities acted as a buffer between evacuees and the Germans, mak-

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ing evacuations more “family-friendly.” The feeling that their own government was on their side meant that while French evacuees certainly expressed discontent, and returned in droves from the reception areas, no public protest like that at Witten arose. Since demonstrations were well within the range of protest by French citizens during the war, the absence of public demonstrations against evacuations is significant.

Witten, Germany: Protesting Evacuation Policy12 On 11 October 1943, the industrial town of Witten in the Ruhrgebiet witnessed a very unusual event. About 300 citizens, most of them women, staged a vocal public demonstration. The women had been evacuated with their children to take shelter from Allied aerial bombardments, but had returned to Witten without permission. Conditions in the rural reception areas were uncomfortable and the women particularly objected to being separated from their husbands, many of whom worked in essential war industries. In order to force the evacuees to return to the countryside, the local authorities had decided to deny them their ration cards. The women at Witten were protesting against this measure, and they caused such an uproar that the municipal government summoned the police. Remarkably, the officers refused to act. The police sympathized with the women, and without a legal basis for denying these citizens their ration cards, they would not enforce the policy.13 The evacuees’ protest worked. Within four months, Hitler himself had interceded to prevent ration cards from being denied to evacuees who returned home without permission.14 More women and children were able to stay in the city, and the regime improved facilities for working fathers to visit their evacuated families. These changes showed that coercive measures could not be used to control civilian evacuations. This case study demonstrates how evacuees’ opposition, primarily motivated by their family ties, forced a change in evacuation policies. Propagandists claimed to want to preserve and strengthen families, but evacuations deeply threatened them. As workers’ wives and civilians, disgruntled evacuees exploited the disparity between what the supposedly pro-family regime said it wanted and the family separations evacuations entailed. The Witten protest succeeded because the Third Reich’s leaders understood that unpopular evacuation policies weakened support for the regime and might have a devastating effect on morale in wartime. In what Victoria de Grazia calls “oppositional familism,” family concerns, politicized by modern states, become a strong basis for opposition to those states. De Grazia argues that in Fascist Italy, “Once family interests became legitimate grounds for demanding government action, they also became grounds to retreat from government impositions. Against a state that failed to safeguard family interests, family logic fed an antipolitics, if not an alternative power.”15 In trying to

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do for their families what they thought best, even when it opposed state policy, German evacuees suggested that they knew better than the state what their families needed, and questioned the state’s right to intervene in family life. The Witten protest has been noted by many historians, but rarely studied in depth. Hans Boberach’s published volumes of SD-reports reports contain an account of it from 18 November 1943, yet many details remain unclear.16 Richard Evans wrote about the incident in a pioneering paper on women in the Third Reich, interpreting it as a sign of women’s disapproval of Nazi policies and their frustrations with the war.17 A similar point of view was expressed by Sybil Milton and also by Martina Kliner-Lintzen.18 Detlev Peukert and Wolfgang Werner, on the other hand, took the demonstration to be a manifestation of workers’, not women’s, opposition.19 Clearly, the event may be read several ways, but an interpretation that focuses on either women’s or workers’ protest fails to give sufficient weight to the immediate causes and context of the demonstration. It was a family-based protest, directed specifically at evacuation policies. Three historians have hinted at the importance of the protest in this context. Gerhard Kock’s work on children’s evacuations links it to parents’ disapproval of the regime’s attempts to make children’s evacuations compulsory.20 Gerhard Sollbach follows essentially the same line of reasoning, reconstructing events surrounding the protest with material from the city archives of the Ruhrgebiet.21 Olaf Groehler’s Bombenkrieg gegen Deutschland, on the other hand, connects the incident to a rejection of evacuations by workers, who found it difficult to pay the extra costs they entailed.22 Building on these works, this case study puts the protest into broader perspective, showing that family ties motivated the protesters, who succeeded because the regime was afraid of the effect their widespread disapproval might have on popular support. Examining opposition to evacuation policies is crucial for understanding evacuations themselves, popular protests in the Third Reich more broadly, and their impact on how the regime exercised power. Throughout the war, evacuations ebbed and flowed with the violence of Allied aerial bombardments. The Ruhrgebiet, with its coalmines and industrial plants, became a crucial target, as did Witten itself, where Ruhrstahl AG, Mannesmann, and Deutsche Tafelglas (DETAG) had important facilities. The first raids on the region took place in 1940, but bombing did not become critical until the spring and summer of 1943, when the Allies launched the “Battle of the Ruhr.” This operation meant four months of heavy bombing between April and June, before the weight of the activity shifted eastward to Berlin. The Ruhr nonetheless continued to be a frequent target until the end of the war. By May 1945, Witten had been attacked 91 times and about 80 percent of the downtown area was destroyed.23 In April 1943, the Ministry of the Interior brought together the evacuation guidelines that had been developed since the beginning of the war and published a list of designated reception areas for evacuees.24 Residents of Westfalen-Süd, the

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Gau that encompassed Witten, Bochum, and Dortmund, were sent to Baden, the Sudetenland, or Pomerania.25 The definition of specific reception areas for everyone put an end to the earlier practice of Freizügigkeit, which had allowed evacuees who paid their own expenses to go wherever they liked. A letter from Secretary of State Wilhelm Stuckart to Goebbels in April 1943 described this change as an attempt to regulate evacuees’ movements to minimize organizational and practical problems caused by their rapidly increasing numbers.26 At the same time, the inflexible interventionism of the circular set the tone for evacuation policy through the summer and fall of 1943, when, for the first time, Hitler’s regime was faced with truly large-scale evacuations.27 Such a vast population movement gave rise to many problems, as we have seen. As a result, the question of whether or not evacuations could be made compulsory became pressing for evacuees and policymakers alike. The 1939–40 evacuations had tended to be compulsory by virtue of military necessity, and coercion was subsequently used for some evacuations resulting from air raid damage—for instance, when a house was rendered uninhabitable, or when there were unexploded bombs in the neighbourhood. In most cases, however, the situation was less clear-cut, and policymakers wavered about whether or not civilians could be forced to undergo evacuation. In 1940, when the KLV program began, the SD had noted that, “In the whole of Berlin, rumours of the most multifarious nature are flying about an evacuation of Berlin’s children, and they are having a most disturbing effect.”28 Early KLV guidelines explained that since past experiences suggested that forcible evacuations were not a good idea, voluntary measures should be preferred “for the time being.”29 Two years later, a circular from the Ministry of the Interior noted that, “As a preemptive measure to protect against air raids, evacuation … can also be ordered and forcibly implemented,” but specified that such compulsory evacuations could only occur “with the special authorization of the Reich Marshall, Reich Minister of the Air and Head of the Air Force [Göring].”30 In his letter to Goebbels in April 1943, Stuckart summarized the regime’s position, stressing that, “The question of evacuation … has always been treated from the viewpoint of a voluntary measure.”31 However, he also explained that with the growing numbers of evacuees, disorderly evacuations threatened to overwhelm local officials. Through the summer and fall of 1943, the regime tried to implement stricter policies, but in early 1944, it became clear that excessive regulation of evacuation was not worth the trouble it caused. The Witten demonstration precipitated this realization, making evacuees’ displeasure impossible to ignore. When the “Battle of the Ruhr” began, the evacuation program for Gau Westfalen-Süd, including Witten, significantly expanded. Party and state officials encouraged as many people as possible to take advantage of evacuation programs. Witten residents were mainly sent to Baden, as opposed to Pomerania or the Sudetenland, the other possible reception areas for Westfalen-Süd. They were

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accommodated in the pious Black Forest, where they had trouble adjusting to rural life and the locals treated them as an alien, corrupting influence. In early June 1943, Baden party leaders announced that, contrary to what the evacuees had been told, they would not be leaving the reception areas once three months had passed. Instead, “The length of stay of the women with children and the lone children … from Westfalen-Süd,… who ought to have been going home now, will be increased by another quarter year. They will remain in the existing billets.”32 Requests to return to the cities of the Ruhr would be denied. Back in Witten, the director of the city’s schools received notice at the end of June that all children would be evacuated during the second half of July. The town’s schools would be closed to ensure the order was carried out.33 Similar measures were being enacted across the Reich, but even as increasing numbers of people were being sent away, evacuees began returning of their own accord from the reception areas. By October 1943, the number of Berliners returning home outpaced those willing to be evacuated. The same was true of other urban centers, particularly those of the Ruhrgebiet.34 Witten evacuees were surely frustrated by the prolongation of their stay, especially now that the Allies appeared to be shifting some of their bombing away from the Ruhrgebiet.35 Local officials pointed out, however, that it was still not safe in the cities, and homes that had been destroyed could not be rebuilt immediately.36 The Reichsbahn was overstretched, and the women and children were not, in the view of the regime, economically “necessary” at home.37 Evacuations would continue. The regime employed several methods to keep evacuees from returning home without permission.38 The first, mentioned above, was to close schools in the home district. School closures gave the regime a legal basis to argue that parents were neglecting their duty to educate their children if they brought them back to the city.39 The second method was to prohibit evacuees from purchasing train tickets to urban danger zones. Party officials negotiated with the Reichsbahn to have its agents refuse to sell tickets to evacuees unless they could show that they had permission to leave. Tellingly, while the Reichsbahn was fairly cooperative with regard to policing the movements of evacuated children, its agents generally refused to treat adults the same way. The head liaison officer of Westfalen-Süd in Baden, Spratte, reported that, “In one district it has … been possible to block the train tickets of women who are leaving without permission. This would naturally be the most desirable situation, but it is unfortunately not realizable in all districts.” Spratte concluded that since the Reichsbahn would not cooperate, other means of enforcement would have to be found.40 The final method used was to deny ration cards to “wild returnees.” Gauleiter Hoffmann of Westfalen-Süd ordered this measure on 26 July 1943, and, within less than three months, it led to the Witten protest.41 Although Hoffmann and several other Gauleiter favoured the policy, it did not result from a Reich-wide decision and gave rise to considerable debate.42 There is evidence, moreover, to sug-

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gest that denying ration cards was first adopted as a disciplinary measure against civilians in the occupied territories, notably France, and then turned back against the population at home.43 Denying ration cards to disobedient German civilians was contemplated at least as early as April 1943. When Stuckart wrote to Goebbels that month about the need to have more control over evacuations, he added that the treatment of evacuees by various government offices “is rather too harsh as opposed to too considerate.” Coercive measures must be carefully weighed, Stuckart believed, and, “the denial of all ration tickets necessary to support life would mostly work itself out against innocent family members.”44 In July 1943, Gauleiter Grohé of Cologne-Aachen criticized the policy of forcing evacuees into specific reception areas, highlighted the unwillingness of the population to leave the cities, and contended that, “The conclusion from this must be that one only evacuates what one must evacuate, and that one does not pressure anyone to leave his home area if it is at all possible to provide him with even the most humble shelter.”45 Despite this lack of consensus, Hoffmann ordered that disobedient evacuees in his Gau be denied their ration cards. The evacuees continued to return. In early September, the SD noted that, “In some reception towns about a third of the evacuees has left the assigned quarters, and has either moved elsewhere, or returned home.”46 A few days later, liaison officer Spratte expressed his frustration about the “mania of our women” to return home even when it was not safe.47 Official frustration and the sense of powerlessness exhibited by Spratte and others led to the radicalization of policy and propaganda. In mid September, the Westfälische Landeszeitung (WLZ) described disobedient evacuees in almost criminal terms as Schädlinge (pests), who were “sabotaging the measures to protect [German] children.” The newspaper cautioned against “wrong-headed sympathy” with such pests, who were risking the “most costly possession of our people.”48 Sympathy with the evacuees was troublesome, for local functionaries did not always approve of draconian measures and turned a blind eye on “illegal” returnees. On 9 October, Hoffmann himself complained that his order not to issue ration cards “is not only not sufficiently observed by individual citizens, but also not carried out everywhere with the necessary energy by the responsible government offices.” Measures to compel evacuations by closing schools were not being enforced either. Spratte reminded local officials of the procedures they were to follow.49 Two days later, 300 people (mainly women and children, though some men participated as well) gathered in front of the Witten city hall. The SD described the scene as follows: on 11 October 1943 about 300 women demonstrated in Witten in order to take a public position against the measures that had led to the refusal to hand out ration cards. It came to shameful displays, so that the city authorities of Witten saw them-

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selves compelled to call the police in to re-establish order. These, however, refused to step in, as the women’s demands were fair and there was no legal basis for the refusal to hand out ration cards to returned citizens.50

Faced with a public demonstration, the police refused to act. Both they and the Witten citizens knew that no law had ever been passed to legalize the denial of ration cards and that the policy violated all popular sense of justice. As one protester argued, “Those people from the food offices should first show me the law that says the children have to go away. If there’s no law about it, and there isn’t, then no one can ever take my ration cards away from me.”51 The president of the Oberlandesgericht Hamm later noted that he had asked Gauleiter Hoffmann for a copy of the order denying ration cards to returned evacuees, but that the Gauleiter had yet to respond. Without any kind of law or written order, enforcing the policy was impossible.52 The municipal government maintained its hard line, and Witten’s women eventually resorted to a ruse to recover their eligibility for sustenance. They applied for work in essential industries, claiming that arrangements had been made to care for their children, even when this was not so. Taking a job reaffirmed their importance to the urban community, and they were again able to obtain their rations. Most importantly, they were no longer targeted for compulsory evacuation and could stay at home with their families.53 Previously, employment had seemed difficult or unappealing to many German women precisely because of their family responsibilities, but now it became the lesser of evils. “Wild returnees” were a serious problem all over the Reich, yet disturbances like that at Witten do not appear to have occurred elsewhere, apart from smaller incidents reported by the SD at Lünen, Bochum, and Hamm in the same period.54 Why? Several factors may have made Witten fertile ground for dissent. The town’s evacuees were sent to Baden, where, observers suggested, the local inhabitants were particularly unwelcoming.55 They tended to be Catholic, whereas Witten was a largely Protestant community, so religious tensions were likely high. Witten was also a mining and steel town, many of whose residents had traditionally voted Socialist or Communist.56 With a population of 73,500 in 1939, it was medium-sized, with a close-knit working-class community. Olaf Groehler points out that in Berlin, dissatisfaction with evacuations, as measured by returns, was greatest in working-class neighbourhoods. He concludes that working-class families returned home more often because they found the expense of running two households prohibitive.57 Perhaps, therefore, class and lack of means helped motivate the Witten protest? The evacuees’ social position may have contributed to their protest, but it was not the main motivating factor. Poorer evacuees certainly had less freedom, lacking the funds to find and pay for their own accommodation, or to visit their families and homes whenever they chose.58 On the other hand, evacuees’ allow-

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ances were available to those of lesser means, and neither the SD-reports, nor surviving evacuees’ letters, suggest that evacuees were particularly concerned about their finances.59 Rather the opposite seems to have been true, for correspondents from the reception areas often complained that evacuees had too much money. One missive cites a Witten miner who apparently told his wife he had plenty to live on at home, so she should be able to “put together a considerable trousseau” with the surplus from her allowance.60 This depiction of evacuees’ situation was motivated probably partly by jealousy, but the overall absence of evacuees’ own complaints about money is striking. Witten’s evacuees were mostly working-class, but it was not their inability to afford two households that made them return home—rather, the problem was that in their particular circumstances, two households made no sense. The position of many Ruhrgebiet women was exceptional among evacuees, for their husbands were not soldiers, but worked in essential industries, tied to their jobs in the city regardless of the bombs.61 By late September 1943, as the weather cooled and temporary quarters in the reception areas grew less comfortable, the evacuees started worrying about winter. Articles in the WLZ, the evacuees’ own letters, and reports of the liaison officers in Baden all show that evacuated women were concerned not only about their own situation, but also about the husbands they had left behind. The WLZ suggested that these workers’ wives must be asking themselves, “What will it be like at home, if we stay in the reception areas over the winter, and our men come home in the evenings—often soaking wet— and find a cold apartment?”62 The Nazi party thought that the neighbours might help, but local women already had enough to do without looking after someone else’s husband. Moreover, the mere idea of another woman coming into their homes to set the stove going for their husbands was enough to send evacuated wives into jealous paroxysms.63 Observers thought that certain husbands encouraged this kind of behaviour by writing whining letters to their spouses about their inability to master household tasks, deliberately feeding the women’s jealousies to convince them to come back home.64 Homesickness and frustration at being separated from one’s loved ones became the main factor in the Witten protest. The SD report of 18 November listed as the first reason for evacuees’ unhappiness, “The ripping apart of the family without the possibility of visits, with all of its accompanying phenomena, [which] is, over the long-term, seen as an intolerable situation not only by the men, but also by their wives.” Workingmen claimed they missed their families so much that it took all of the joy out of their work. Frequent reference was made to “the sexual problem,” and observers worried about the long-term effects of separating spouses, which tended towards a “decay of marriages.” They also noted that, “separation from the children is designated as an especially heavy, and therefore over the long-term unbearable, burden.”65 Earlier in the summer, officials in Baden had complained about the number of parents travelling to the reception

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areas to visit their children—another family-motivated type of noncompliance that the regime tried to discourage.66 The evacuees’ unease thus crystallized around family ties, but what made them move from displeasure to action? It is hard to be certain, but many of Witten’s mothers and children ended up in the small town of Donaueschingen, not far from Freiburg in the southern Black Forest.67 They were accompanied by the principal of the Protestant school in Witten, Wilhelm Reeswinkel. Reeswinkel acted as informal spokesman for the group, directed their collective kitchen, organized special events for them, and interceded with the authorities on their behalf. His presence was appreciated by the evacuees, but he drew the attention of the local liaison officer from Westfalen-Süd, who complained that Reeswinkel focused too exclusively on “his” group of evacuees, would not cooperate with Party programs for all evacuees, and acted “with his Witteners as a ‘state within the state’.”68 In an attempt to co-opt him, the party offered Reeswinkel the job of town liaison officer for Donaueschingen, but he turned it down, presumably because he felt this would compromise his position. Reeswinkel seems to have stood out as a kind of moral authority, speaking for the rights of Witten evacuees against the party, and lending support to the women and children in his charge. It is likely that Reeswinkel’s presence contributed to making evacuees from Witten more aware of their own rights, and therefore, perhaps, more willing to stand up for these rights against the regime.69 The Witten demonstration was not “resistance” of a formal kind. Complaints about the authorities were commonplace among the protesters, according to the SD-report, but they were directed at local figures, rather than the Reich government or Hitler himself: “This doesn’t come from the top—it’s just the mayor and the food office or the Gauleiter who are to blame. They think they know what’s what, but we’ll show them.” The SD noted more generally that, “Most women [stand behind] the Führer himself.”70 Still, the Witten protest exemplified small-scale dissent or opposition.71 In some ways, it was a kind of bread riot, harkening back to the subsistence crises of earlier eras, or to demonstrations at the end of World War I and during the early Weimar years. Belinda Davis has shown how this kind of protest brought the concerns of the population to the regime’s attention in World War I.72 Though the Witten protest was not the result of a food shortage as such, it certainly concerned the population’s right to eat, since without ration cards, the “illegally” returned evacuees could not feed themselves and their children. Like a typical bread riot, the action took place in a central public space, the Rathausplatz, then called Adolf-Hitler-Platz. The focus of the protest was the municipal food office, or Ernährungsamt, where ration cards were distributed.73 The protesters who laid claim to this important public space were motivated by a naïve sense of justice and offended values, similar to that of earlier subsistence riots.74

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Whether the demonstration was spontaneous, like most bread riots, or planned, is difficult to ascertain. In describing the similar, but smaller protests in Hamm, Lünen, and Bochum, the SD suggested that trouble had arisen spontaneously as disgruntled citizens queued to receive their ration cards. One can easily imagine that the atmosphere grew heated as evacuees exchanged stories about conditions in the reception areas and waited impatiently for their ration cards, which in some cases would be withheld. It would not have taken much to provoke open protest.75 The Witten demonstration involved about 300 participants, and it may have been somewhat better organized than the other events mentioned by the SD. Without documents recording the participants’ side of the story, one can not be certain, but the SD report uses the verb “demonstrieren” to describe the event, and says that the women were there “to take a public position against the measures that had led to the refusal to hand out ration cards.”76 This wording, emphasizing that the demonstrators sought to take a public stance on particular measures, suggests that although the protest may have been spontaneous, it was certainly perceived as a serious, thoughtful dissent by the SD. The SD’s report, in turn, was read by the highest authorities in the Reich, so this treatment of the protest, contrasting starkly with Spratte’s view that returns from the reception areas were an irrational female “mania,” surely added weight to the evacuees’ claims.77 There are parallels between the Witten demonstration and other notable instances of popular noncompliance in the Third Reich—the Bavarian crucifix campaign and the Rosenstrasse protest. Comparison with these events helps bring the Witten incident into better focus. It is not intended to suggest that they were equivalent, rather that they shared certain common features that made them threatening to the Nazi regime.78 All three protests were “single-issue” campaigns with limited and thus achievable objectives.79 Inconsistencies in policy application by party authorities encouraged the protesters, who were predominantly women.80 These women’s links to soldiers at the Front, their membership in the “national community,” and their importance to wartime morale made their demands hard to ignore. In Bavaria, the crucifix campaign primarily was motivated by religion, and thus different from the family-based Witten protest. Nonetheless, family concerns contributed to the Bavarian action, for most of the women protesting were “mothers of schoolchildren” concerned about their children’s religious education.81 At the Rosenstrasse, protesters’ love for their incarcerated spouses or other relatives clearly motivated the action. Thus, in all three cases, family ties were a contributing, if not a determining, factor. At Witten, attempts to make civilians conform to evacuation regulations threatened values for which people claimed they were willing to die. As one protester put it, “Let them come to me. My children won’t leave, and if I have nothing to eat, then I can die [verrecken] alongside them.” Another claimed that, “I

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can still keep my children wherever I want to. After all, they’re still my children.”82 The Witteners’ reactions were echoed elsewhere in the Reich as well. During a meeting to encourage Prenzlauer Berg (Berlin) families to evacuate their children, parents were told that, “children are not just the property of their parents, but like the soil tilled by the farmer, they are also the property of the state.” At this point, “a soldier got up and, without saying a word, left the meeting.”83 Protests like that at Witten questioned the regime’s legitimacy. Participants insisted on their own conception of what was right for their families, thereby suggesting that the party did not always know best. Basing their claims on the natural rights of parents, husbands, and wives, the Witteners, like the Bavarians or Rosenstrasse protesters, reminded the regime that there were older values and deeper claims on their loyalty than those of the regime. At a time when, historians have suggested, many Germans’ war-weary retreat into private life crippled their capacity to oppose National Socialism, the citizens of Witten took to the streets precisely because this retreat was denied to them. Even if they had wanted to turn inward to their homes and families, evacuation policies prevented them from doing so. Tim Mason argued that, “Retreat into private life, born of doubt and defeat, is not the stuff of which militant and risk-laden protest is made,” but this is only true if a private life is possible.84 The Witten demonstration shows that in some circumstances, the very denial of the opportunity to enjoy a normal private life can form a basis for dissent. The Witten protesters tried to exert pressure in favour of individual rights and family sovereignty on a totalitarian government that favoured community and state, and which was willing to ignore the rights of the individual and family as a result. In the end, however, the success of these protests was not attributable to the recognition by the regime that the protesters were right. Rather, it had more to do with who was protesting—“Aryan” women who were related to workers and soldiers—and the context of total war, which made good morale essential. A regime based on mass support, like Hitler’s, could not afford to alienate its citizens by using excessive force against members of the Volksgemeinschaft. This was particularly true if the claims of those Volksgemeinschaft members were so widely perceived as “just” that even the police would not use violence against them.85 On the day after the Witten demonstration, representatives of Goebbels’ Propaganda Ministry telephoned party representatives in the reception areas to gauge popular feeling and hear suggestions about how to stem the flood of “wild returnees.”86 A few days later, Gauleiter Hoffmann visited the Baden area and met with his liaison officers there (Figure 5.1).87 Through the late fall of 1943, discussions about the use of coercion in evacuation took place at the highest levels of government, and Goebbels confided to his diary that, “the most difficult domestic policy issue we face is the flood of returning evacuees.”88 Stricter regulation of train travel, the continued closure of schools in the danger zones,

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F .. Gauleiter Hofmann in Baden “Volk comrades from all over the Reich who have lost their homes due to the bombterror have been welcomed here on the upper Rhine. Gauleiter Hofmann visits his Dortmund women and children who have found their new residence in Baden” [translation by author]. Source: Mitteilungsblatt des Gaues Baden/Elsass für den Umquartierten, Issue 1 (Jan. 1944), 1 (GLAKHE 465d/907).

and blocking returnees’ ration cards were all discussed as ways to stem the flow of returning evacuees. At first, the tendency was to tighten still the state’s grip on wayward evacuees, for the leaders of the regime viewed evacuees’ opposition as a personal affront, a battle of wills. In his diary, Goebbels described an almost primordial conflict, one that pitted the will of the people against the will of the state. In early November he wrote: We must try, … through appropriate measures, to dam this flood of returning evacuees. If this is not achievable through well-meaning persuasion, then coercion must be used. It is not true that coercion does not lead to the desired result.… Nothing has been felt of this [coercion] yet, and the Volk knows perfectly well where the soft spot of the leadership is, and will always know how to exploit it. If we harden the spot where we have thus far been soft, the Volk will bend to the will of the State. At the moment we are on the way to bending the will of the State

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under to the will of the Volk ... The state must never, against its own best interests, give way to the pressure of the street.89

Goebbels surely had the Witten demonstration in mind as he wrote this response to the groundswell of anti-evacuation sentiment.90 The conflict presented Nazi leaders with a critical choice—would they, or would they not, give in to the “pressure of the street”? In defining opposition to evacuation in this way, Goebbels invested it with greater significance, perhaps, than the participants themselves did, and turned it into a threat to the heart of the regime. The threat was amplified by the fact that those participating in the demonstration were mainly female, civilian, working-class members of the “national community.” They raised their claims against the state on the basis of the three things that defined them most and the rights associated with each. As wives and mothers, they insisted that they knew best how to look after their husbands and children, and that they should not have to choose between their roles. As civilians, they reminded the regime of their connections to the soldiers at the Front, for the leadership was well aware of the impact letters from evacuees had on their soldier husbands’ and sons’ morale.91 The Witteners also played on the differences between civilian and soldierly life, and they suggested that compulsory evacuation was a misguided attempt to impose military discipline on non-soldiers. They emphasized that they belonged to the national community, yet were being looked upon as its enemies. One demonstrator went so far as to say that if ration cards were going to be withheld from returned evacuees, then the leaders of the regime “might as well just send us to Russia right away, aim a machine gun at us, and have done with it.”92 Evacuees were being treated no differently from the Russian foe. Finally, the Witten civilians reminded the regime that they were members of the working class. Some miners actually joined the protest, declaring that, “they would not return to the mines until they had obtained the required ration tickets for their families.”93 By forcing their families to leave, the state had failed to uphold its side of what was practically seen as a wage bargain. The SD reported that, “Above all, the husbands explained that family life represents the only compensation for their hard work. One should not also take away from them the last thing that makes life seem at all worth living.”94 World War I had shown workers’ importance to the war effort, and the Nazi regime’s fear of working-class opposition is well documented. Drawing attention to their membership in this politically important group strengthened the evacuees’ cause, even if their protest was not, strictly speaking, a workers’ protest. By early 1944, the Witten protest and the continuing flood of “illegal returnees” had led to substantial alterations in evacuation policy. To a certain extent, it remained possible to coerce the evacuation of children, but not adults. In early November 1943, Goebbels mused in his diary about whipping evacuees into

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docility. Within a few months, however, Hitler had forbidden the blocking of returnees’ ration cards. The regime soon took other steps toward making evacuations more family-friendly. This shift seems to have been linked the fact that Gauleiter Hoffmann, who up until this point had been Goebbels’ (and consequently Hitler’s) main advisor in these matters, fell ill. Now, the influence of Grohé, Gauleiter of Cologne-Aachen and another close counsellor of the Propaganda Minister, was in the ascendant.95 Grohé, who was more moderate than Hoffmann, felt that using coercion in evacuations was unwise. He downplayed “soft” considerations like family ties, and instead insisted on the danger that poor civilian morale, exacerbated by evacuations, might present to the war effort. Grohé believed that the best way to secure good morale at home, and by extension at the Front, was to leave people where they were, instead of evacuating them all over the Reich.96 Along with Grohé, other voices argued for more flexible evacuation policies. Workers’ wishes gained “support from important people in industry, who explain[ed] that it [lay] in the interest of morale and the productivity of the workers to arrange for the workers to have their wives and children back here soon as possible.”97 Ministry of the Interior representative Jacobi also pleaded for moderation and flexibility in the evacuation process, as we have seen.98 Although Himmler’s response to Jacobi at the February 1944 meeting of Gauleiter and Oberbürgermeister reminded those present that individualistic evacuations had been a cause of France’s downfall, the tide was nonetheless turning against obligatory mass measures.99 There are signs that Hitler himself may have been reluctant to force a more thorough evacuation of the Rhine-Ruhr, because the only way to do this effectively would have been to declare it a war zone. This action would have deprived Germany of the moral high ground it claimed by insisting that the Allies’ area bombing affected only innocent civilians.100 Martin Bormann also came down against forcible evacuations, but for rather different reasons. He argued that the widespread desire of the population to return to the endangered areas “should be encouraged, because it is directed toward resistance and survival in the homeland and at the workplace, guarantees for all the continued existence of the affected cities and ensures the progress of production…. [Moreover,] the difference between the areas that send away evacuees, and the ones that receive them, has been practically erased by the expansion of the air war.”101 Recognizing that the “wild returns” were not going to stop, Bormann manipulated them until they became a demonstration of the population’s fortitude. Although his remarks foreshadowed the decision at the end of the war to stop all preemptive evacuations, in 1943, Bormann was the only one willing to claim that “wild returns” should be encouraged. It was, however, becoming very clear that they could not be stopped, especially not through a method as radical as denying ration cards. Even Goebbels began to change his mind. On 14 January, he

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noted in his diary that, “Several Gauleiter have called for legal measures against returning evacuees. For the time being, I turn down such measures, for another whole group of Gauleiter are against them. It is impossible to achieve consensus with regard to this question, and since every Gauleiter does what he thinks is best, a decision from the Führer [eine Führerentscheidung] must be obtained.”102 A note of doubt had crept in about the advisability of coercion and Goebbels observed that not all Gauleiter thought it was wise. As in other cases of conflict within the party leadership, the Führer would decide. Ten days later, Goebbels visited Hitler’s headquarters in East Prussia and the decision was made.103 On 28 January 1944, the Propaganda Minister wrote to the Gauleiter that, “The Führer has ordered that [you] should refrain from blocking ration cards.”104 In his letter, Goebbels claimed that the measure had been rejected mainly for logistical reasons. It was difficult to enforce and inconsistent application resulted in local injustices. However, Hitler’s refusal to deny ration cards to returned evacuees was a clear sign of a turn away from compulsory evacuation. In the same circular that forbade denying ration cards, Goebbels informed the Gauleiter that, “The Führer is of the opinion that other ways and means must be found to move even these [reluctant] citizens toward the evacuation of their children.”105 Policymakers tried to respond to evacuees’ concerns while encouraging a positive attitude toward evacuation measures. One early sign of this was the creation, on 21 December 1943, of the Reichsinspektion der zivilen Luftkriegsmaßnahmen, under the auspices of the pre-existing Interministerielle Luftkriegsschädenausschuß.106 The Reichsinspektion was headed by Goebbels, with Gauleiter Hoffmann as his second-in-command, until Hoffmann became ill. It examined civil defense measures, spread information about new techniques, and, as part of the larger goal of diminishing civilian casualties, oversaw evacuations. After the war, Erich Hampe, who had been involved in German civil defense since the 1930s, remembered that the Reichsinspektion had played an important part in keeping evacuees from returning home.107 The leaders of the regime also tried to ease the family separations that evacuations entailed. Ministry of the Interior representative Jacobi had argued in January 1944 that, “Experience has shown that the most difficult circumstances on the Home Front may be more easily tolerated, if only family unity can be maintained.”108 Just before the Witten demonstration, one of the more sympathetic liaison officers of Westfalen-Süd in Baden had written that in his view, all evacuated women really wanted was to be able to make quick trips home to visit their husbands, take care of household affairs, and fetch additional items of clothing and housewares. Since bringing mothers and children back into the cities for visits was dangerous, the regime arranged for working fathers to visit their evacuated families instead. A program had been in place since September 1941 to assist lowincome workers to visit their families twice a year. The program was expanded in late July 1942 and again two weeks after the Witten demonstration. After

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the Witten demonstration, anyone whose family had a right to the evacuees’ allowance, or whose net income was under 7200 RM per year, was automatically eligible for two free return train tickets per year to visit relatives. Two visits a year were not much, but at least the population could see that the regime was doing something to ease the long-term separation of families.109 The problems with evacuations and undisciplined returns from the reception areas continued throughout the war, but the regime never again moved as close to sanctioning forcible measures. In late July 1944, Himmler and Bormann declared jointly that, “The use of coercive measures in preemptive evacuation continues to be seen as inappropriate,” though they did agree that forcible evacuation could be considered in some urgent cases.110 A month later, radio listeners in WestfalenSüd were told that despite repeated warnings, mothers continued to return with their children from the reception areas. The announcer reminded such women that they were exposing their offspring to the dangers of aerial bombardment, but the only threat made against them was that their quarters in the reception areas might not be kept open for them until they came back.111 In October 1944, Martin Bormann confirmed for the Gauleiter’s representative in Essen that coercive measures could not be used against “wild returnees.”112 In the final analysis, the Witten demonstration and the persistence of the population in returning home without permission showed that there was no sure method to force evacuations if families were truly unwilling. Moreover, it confirmed the effectiveness of a protest based on what de Grazia has called “oppositional familism.” As civilians and wives of workers and soldiers, the Witteners held up the rights of families against the claims of the state and won. In wartime, it was simply too dangerous for Hitler’s regime to react violently to a peaceful protest by members of the Volksgemeinschaft. As the war continued, ever more serious bombardments helped promote departures for safer areas, and the regime focused on positive measures to encourage evacuation. Parents unwilling to allow their children to be evacuated by the state often made arrangements for them to stay with relatives or friends, a solution that the government increasingly favoured. In the end, conditions became so severe that small-scale local evacuations were the only ones possible. The dream of centrally controlled, ultra-efficient, and compulsory evacuations had run up against the realities of war, and more importantly, against the steadfast unwillingness of the population to allow the regime to define family life. At the turn of 1944, the German evacuation program stood at a crossroads— either unwilling civilians could be evacuated from their homes coercively, without consideration for family ties, or, they could be encouraged to leave though incentive and propaganda, and given freedom to come and go as they chose. The former solution was the more coldly efficient. It gave primacy to the war effort and, at least in theory, guaranteed more effectively the future of the Volksgemeinschaft. But it overplayed community at the expense of family, and the latter, not

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the former, remained the more important unit for ordinary people, especially in wartime. More than anything else, evacuees’ refusal to cooperate, symbolized by the Witten demonstration, forced the leaders of the regime to recognize the importance that family sovereignty retained, even in the Third Reich.

Cherbourg, France: Accommodating Obligatory Evacuation In Germany, families fought the state over the right to determine the modalities of their evacuations. In France, the conflict shifted to a different level—the French authorities fought the German occupiers over the same issues, on behalf of French citizens. The second case study examines the Norman port city of Cherbourg and expands on the themes of the first in the context of occupied France. In France, both French and Germans agreed in principle that evacuations were desirable, but differed about how to carry them out. The Germans wanted to evacuate civilians from cities like Cherbourg primarily because they got in soldiers’ way. Unless their labour contributed to the war effort, civilians took up valuable food, accommodation, and energy resources. The French authorities, and most French citizens, agreed that civilians should be removed from danger zones, but they became increasingly reluctant to engage in large-scale evacuations, especially if the measures were ordered by the Germans. Evacuations were expensive and disrupted families and society. Most importantly, the French resented the infringement on their sovereignty that German-ordered evacuations represented. French officials pushed to make obligatory evacuations follow their own ideas as much as possible. The discussions that took place articulated crucial differences between French and German conceptions of evacuation and of the place of the family in wartime society. For instance, French and Germans ascribed a different role to married women in the city. The French believed that even if workers’ wives were not employed outside the home, they were an essential element within it, and this should give them as much right to stay in the city as their husbands had. Without a wife, who would look after the home so that a man could do his job? Experience showed that women’s presence helped ensure their husbands stayed at work in the city, rather than following their families to safer rural areas. In negotiations with the Germans, the French authorities emphasized this practical argument, and their point of view prevailed. The French position regarding women was related to their greater willingness to make evacuations flexible for families. The government encouraged pères de famille (fathers of families), especially, to take responsibility for evacuating their wives and children, if they chose, anywhere there was suitable housing.113 Once the children were safe, it seemed natural to the French that couples might prefer to stay together at home. This contrasted with the German practice of encouraging housewives to leave cities with their young children. The Germans

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emphasized state evacuation programs, rather than family or individual initiatives, which decreased the influence of the Familienvater by default.114 The Reich government did sometimes encourage families to arrange their own evacuations, but only because this eased pressure on state and party bureaucracies, and not because it gave more sovereignty to heads of families. The third issue upon which French and Germans differed was the distance evacuees should travel from their homes. Germans preferred long-distance evacuations, but the French tried to keep evacuees close to home and strove throughout the war to have this preference recognized by the occupation authorities.115 Finally, during the Liberation, the French point of view won out, although this was largely because civilians could not be evacuated over long distances when, as one official put it, it took 25–30 hours for a train to go from Paris to Lille.116 As the war continued, the Germans began to favour shorter-distance evacuations within Germany as well, though again, this was mainly for practical reasons. The greater willingness to recognize women’s role in the urban community, the relative freedom accorded families to plan their own evacuations, and the shorter distances French evacuees travelled all contributed to a less volatile situation among French evacuees, compared to German. Still, evacuations were no more popular in France than they were in Germany, as evidenced by the numerous French evacuees who returned without permission from the reception areas. These returns contradicted direct orders from the occupation authorities, and returnees were denied their ration cards in France, just as they were in Germany. Still, no demonstration like the one at Witten took place, despite the fact that popular unrest was well within the French repertoire of action during the occupation. There were 753 demonstrations in France during the war, and of those, 253 were the result of food-based grievances. As historian Danielle Tartakowsky has noted, “despite the risks involved,” this amounts to an average of 50 foodrelated protests per year during the war. Collaborationist organizations sponsored occasional demonstrations against Allied air raids, but apparently none against evacuations per se.117 Along with the fear of reprisals from the Germans, the more moderate and family-sensitive attitude of the French authorities, which accorded with the views of French citizens, was in large part responsible. People were reassured to find that local and national government representatives saw evacuations as they themselves did—a necessary evil that should be carried out with as little disruption to family life as possible. Cherbourg was typical of the larger coastal centres where compulsory evacuations were ordered. Other Norman cities such as Rouen, Dieppe, and Le Havre were also affected, but to a somewhat lesser degree. In Brittany, one could have examined Lorient, Brest or Saint-Nazaire.118 However, rich archives for Cherbourg survive, including documents from the relevant sous-préfecture. The successive sous-préfets were the direct interlocutors of the German authorities in the city.119 Their immediate counterpart was the Kreiskommandant (district commander)

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Dr. Witzel, though there was also a Hafenkommandant (port commander), and, by early 1944, a Festungskommandant (fortress commander). The Festungskommandant was responsible for Cherbourg’s defenses, but also had jurisdiction over everything under the purview of the Kreiskommandant, including FrancoGerman (civilian-military) relations in the city. Before World War II, Cherbourg was, as it remains, the foremost port of Lower Normandy. Positioned at the tip of the Cotentin peninsula, it was relatively isolated by land, yet ideally situated to exploit well-traveled shipping lanes through the English Channel. From Napoleon’s time, the French Navy maintained an important dockyard at Cherbourg, which employed 4,500 people in 1940.120 The city had massive manmade breakwaters to defend it from the sea, and strong land fortifications, but it was not well equipped for air war. Cherbourg was located just 12 minutes’ flying time from Southampton, and even in 1942, it possessed only enough air raid shelters to accommodate one of every 11 or 12 civilians.121 In June 1940, the city was encircled by Rommel’s 7th Panzer Division. Though some of its forts were capable of firing to the landward side, many of the guns had been taken off to defend the mouth of the Seine. Since Cherbourg was located at the end of a peninsula, it made little sense to defend it when the rest of France was overrun, and after a “défense pour l’honneur,” Admiral Le Bigot surrendered on 19 June. In fact, the French Council of Ministers had declared Cherbourg an open city the previous night. During the occupation, the German navy used the port to shelter torpedo boats, but from 1942 onward, the focus of the local economy was construction.122 The Germans were determined to fortify the Atlantic coast as thoroughly as possible, and the Cotentin peninsula became a virtually impregnable bastion, with Cherbourg at its tip. The Allies began bombing Cherbourg as early as June 1940.123 Raids continued sporadically over the next two years, targeting German military installations, but not resulting in significant destruction. It was not until 1943 that the situation became truly alarming in coastal cities such as Cherbourg. At the beginning of that year, both Lorient and Saint-Nazaire in Brittany were gravely hit, and the French government noted with consternation that as many lives had been lost and as much damage caused in the first trimester of 1943 as in the whole of 1942.124 Both Germans and French recognized the need to protect civilians and strengthen the defenses of coastal cities. As a consequence, in mid April 1943, just as evacuations were moving into high gear in Germany itself, the German authorities ordered the evacuation of 60 percent of Cherbourg’s population. The idea of evacuating some of the city’s civilians was not new. A long-standing plan to disperse the population had been put into effect in 1940, but so late that Cherbourg was already encircled and those who took refuge on the heights surrounding the city risked being caught in the crossfire. Most people returned home as soon as the fighting ceased.125 Then, after Allied bombardments in Sep-

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tember 1941 killed about 70 people, some children were sent to the south of the department of Manche, but practical and financial difficulties, as well as the paucity of aerial bombardments, meant they were soon brought home.126 Renewed attempts to evacuate children in early 1942 had similar results.127 The population was reluctant to submit to evacuation, but at this point neither the French nor the German authorities were fully committed to the idea either. Each was aware that evacuations would be necessary, but neither wanted to be responsible for such unpopular measures. At the same time, though, both sought to be involved in the planning, for neither wanted to surrender control over future evacuations to the other. German priorities were maintaining defenses, ensuring essential industries ran smoothly, and avoiding panic and mass departures. Before 1943, some patients of Cherbourg’s Pasteur hospital were evacuated to free beds for military use, but the Germans discouraged additional evacuations as disruptive to urban working life.128 Like the Germans, the French wanted to avoid panic, but they responded by planning ahead and encouraging preemptive evacuations to make mass departures easier later. The Ministry of the Interior promoted evacuating children and the elderly, but also reminded préfets that apart from small-scale preemptive measures, “No other evacuation measures should be envisaged. If the occupation authorities give orders to the contrary, please reserve your decision, and be in touch with the Direction des Réfugiés immediately.”129 After a meeting with the German authorities in the late fall of 1941, Cherbourg’s new sous-préfet reported to Paris that, “the evacuation of a large part of the civilian population is envisaged … as a measure that would impose itself with primary urgency” if hostilities resumed.130 The sous-préfet wanted to start planning this immediately, but the préfet of Manche refused until new instructions from the Ministry of the Interior in July 1942 specified that while “The French administrative authorities are not, under any circumstances, to take the initiative for obligatory evacuations, [they] should take all precautions to ensure that evacuations, should they be ordered by the occupation authorities for military reasons, can be executed in an orderly way, and in the best conditions possible.”131 The French were to make no moves on their own initiative, yet begin preparing for compulsory evacuations if the Germans ordered them. Préfets were warned to avoid, “precautions of a kind that would make the ‘indispensable’ or ‘necessary’ population anxious.”132 On the strength of these instructions, which laid out the terms for interaction with the German authorities, the préfet of Manche now supported the Cherbourg sous-préfet’s advance planning for evacuations. At a joint meeting in late August 1942, the German authorities asked the préfet to prepare to evacuate about 30,000 of Cherbourg’s 50,000 residents to the southern Cotentin peninsula and the region around Chartres, in Eure-et-Loir. Mayors were to arrange the details of the transfer.133

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These plans were elaborated through the fall, though the Germans did not order any evacuations from Cherbourg in 1942.134 In early 1943, however, the Breton ports of Lorient and Saint-Nazaire were badly bombed, giving impetus to evacuation planning. After the bombing of Lorient, the Germans tried to use coercion for the first time to discipline French evacuees. When Lorient was bombed, the Germans found to their dismay that most of their French workers “had evacuated the city with their families and had not presented themselves at their workplace since.” In response, they ordered the French police to seek out the recalcitrant, and, if they refused to return to Lorient, to deprive them of their ration cards.135 Apparently, the French authorities refused to do this, so the Germans offered special housing in camouflaged barracks on the city’s outskirts as an incentive for the workers’ return. Workers’ families, they claimed, would be settled in neighbouring villages where they could be visited on weekends. Still, the Lorient employees refused to return, and the Germans sent a note to the local préfet demanding that at least 750 workers be requisitioned to clean up debris and return to their jobs. The préfet refused, and 40 mayors of the department of Morbihan threatened to resign rather than exercise coercive measures against Lorient citizens who had taken refuge in their communities.136 In this case, it was not the population itself, as in Germany, but rather local French authorities who protested coercion against civilians. The authorities acted as a buffer between the forces of occupation and the French population, moderating the demands of the former to bring them more into line with the needs and preferences of the latter. This pattern repeated itself during the occupation, helping forestall greater conflicts over evacuation measures in France. The German authorities, faced with the mayors’ intransigence, finally asked the préfet to request officially that the Lorient workers return to their jobs and promised not only to find safe housing for them and their families, but also to give the men of Morbihan a full exemption from compulsory work service in Germany.137 The Lorient incident involves the first documented use of ration cards to discipline French civilians. It highlights the buffering role of the French authorities and confirms that although defense was uppermost in the Germans’ minds, the need to safeguard the labour pool also argued for compulsory evacuation of less “essential” civilians.138 In the wake of Lorient, the Germans decided to arrange preventive evacuations for other frequently targeted coastal cities, like Brest and Cherbourg. The plan proposed for Lorient soon became the model for German-ordered evacuations in France, and by early February 1943, the French and German authorities had agreed, at least in principle, that all “bouches inutiles” (literally, “useless mouths”: children, the elderly, and the sick, economically “unnecessary” citizens) should be evacuated from vulnerable cities.139 On 10 April 1943, Feldkommandant Major Feuge informed the préfet of Manche that all persons not essential to the defense, economy, and administra-

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tion of Cherbourg would have to leave before 1 May. Feuge added that according to his experience, “the affected population does not attach sufficient importance to evacuation orders, despite the fact that evacuations are … essentially in the interest of that population itself. One cannot, as a result, count on a voluntary withdrawal of very many people. The execution of the evacuation is therefore ordered, insofar as necessary, even against the inclination of those involved.”140 To ensure that the evacuations took place as planned, the Germans made the French responsible for carrying them out.141 Three days later, the Kreiskommandant for Cherbourg, Dr. Witzel, set out the particulars of the evacuation. At the time, 51,650 ration cards were being delivered in the city and surrounding communities, so one could assume that the population amounted to the same number.142 Calculations showed that only about 20,000 “essential” citizens should be excluded from the evacuation order, meaning that 60 percent of the existing population had to leave.143 This order was more radical than the Germans gave elsewhere in Normandy. Dieppe and Le Havre were forced to evacuate only up to 25 percent of the civilian population the same month, while at Rouen, evacuations remained voluntary, though strongly recommended.144 Faced with such a drastic order, the préfet of Manche wrote to his superiors. On 19 April, he received confirmation of the French position that the Germans could only order evacuations involving children, the elderly, hospitalized sick persons, and those considered “useless” to local economic life. Nothing more than a “pressing appeal” should be addressed to the rest of the population, combined with material incentives to evacuate. The French government insisted that, “[g]iven the present state of things, a general evacuation would carry consequences too serious [for it] to be imposed immediately.”145 Officially, the French stalled because of the transportation, housing, and supply problems caused by evacuations, as well as concerns about uprooting the population. However, there were other serious issues at stake. Like other areas of contact between the French administration and the German military authorities, evacuations became a battleground where the French tried to exercise sovereignty despite occupation, while the Germans strove to run their conquests as efficiently as possible from a military point of view. Even when the Germans gave orders, they needed French cooperation to carry them out, and given their situation, the French often had little choice but to play along. Still, the precise shape and extent of cooperation varied a great deal, and the French were quite adept at negotiating increased autonomy in return for giving the Germans what they wanted.146 In contrast to other areas where French and German interests collided, evacuations had an essentially positive goal. Unlike the deportations of Jews, political prisoners, and others, the compulsory labour service, and the exploitation of the French economy for German military ends, at least on the surface, evacuations helped civilians and saved their lives. In theory, therefore, both Germans and

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French should have agreed they were desirable, but several factors complicated the picture. The first, already mentioned, was the fact that most people hated evacuations. As a result, neither French nor German authorities wanted to be responsible for the measures, particularly if they were obligatory. In some cases, the French actually asked the Germans to order the evacuations—first, because this made the occupiers responsible for an unpopular undertaking; and second, because it was the only way to get the French population to leave urban areas. In the spring of 1943, for instance, Cherbourg’s sous-préfet informed the Kreiskommandant that an obligatory evacuation would “in any case come up against the fierce opposition of the civilian population,” and the local director of evacuees’ services argued that while an evacuation order could come from either French or German authorities, “the evacuation would only be effective if there were a German order.”147 Evacuations were so unpopular that even the Germans were sometimes unwilling to order them. In February 1943, they prevaricated about evacuations at Brest at least partly because the population was so unwilling to leave. Renewed air raids at the end of the month soon removed this obstacle and the measures proceeded as planned.148 The French position was that it was better to encourage an evacuation than to order it, “because instead of imposing on the population evacuation measures that are naturally unpopular, the government comes to its aid in its hour of need.”149 Although Germans in France felt little need to appear beneficent, they also avoided giving evacuation orders because each order gave a foothold to French requests that the Germans share the cost of evacuations. In theory, at least, when the army requisitioned a home to quarter troops, the evicted owner received indemnities.150 The French argued that obligatory evacuees should be given the same benefits, for, “by virtue of the conventions of the armistice it is incumbent upon the forces of occupation to pay evacuation costs and indemnities that can be claimed by victims of military operations.”151 Despite the fact that they seem to have recognized their obligation to pay for requisitioned houses, though, the Germans did not admit any need to provide allowances to civilians ordered to evacuate cities like Cherbourg. Evacuees’ residences had not been requisitioned per se, and might sit empty, or might be used to accommodate bombed-out “essential” civilians. The German point of view was that the French government should give evacuees an allowance.152 This constituted a significant expense for the French, who insisted in 1944 that “we must limit to a reasonable minimum these [obligatory] evacuations which are tremendously expensive, throw the country into a disarray [and] bring with them an enormous waste of resources.”153 Along with popular objections to evacuation and the indignity of having to pay for German-ordered measures, the French also saw evacuations as a direct threat to their sovereignty. Every German order encroached on French sovereignty in some way, but evacuations were particularly galling because they in-

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volved the physical possession of territory. Removing French civilians from a city was a clear sign that the city no longer really belonged to France.154 Consequently, the government fought particularly hard to prevent the evacuation of its representatives, the local civil servants. When the préfet of Manche spoke to his German interlocutors about evacuation orders on 16 April 1943, he “indicated to them that the French government is opposed to the evacuation of functionaries, regardless of their role or rank, and that, for this reason, [he was not] able to give them the list of functionaries who might be evacuable from Cherbourg.”155 The préfet obtained a short delay, but the German demand was not rescinded. Three days later, S.I.P.E.G head Lacombe reiterated the French position that civil servants should stay, “not only to affirm that the French administrative organization will be kept in place, but at the same time in order to respond to the practical necessities of local life.”156 Functionaries represented the government, dealt with practical problems, and reminded the German forces that they were still in France. Nonetheless, Lacombe followed his statement of principle with a strategic compromise, recommending that two teams be organized within each municipal service, one to stay in Cherbourg, the other to be evacuated to the south of Manche according to German wishes. After leaving the city, Cherbourg evacuees went to safer areas of their own department, following French evacuation patterns rather than German. During negotiations about coastal evacuations in the same period, the French government had noted that “the German authorities manifested a very definite desire to see the evacuees directed to reception areas situated very deeply in the interior of the country.”157 The original German-approved plan for Cherbourg foresaw evacuating the city sector by sector, first to Eure-et-Loir, then to Sarthe or Mayenne. Eventually, the designated region became the Loiret, near Orléans. Plans suggested that two trains a day, each with 500 people aboard, could evacuate 10,000 people in 10 days.158 However, most Cherbourg residents proved unwilling to submit to large-scale group evacuations to the Loiret region, and a more flexible plan had to be adopted. Some organized groups of mothers and children, as well as hospital patients, were sent to the Loiret, but Manche’s deputy chief of refugee services, Commander Meunier, noted that only 550 people in the whole city had volunteered for evacuation to this region in the first days of the program. The first special evacuees’ train was scheduled to depart on 20 April, but only 350 people appeared to board it. A second train, planned for 318 evacuees, only transported 216. Meunier concluded that people preferred to travel independently to the homes of relatives in southern Manche. The incentives provided to such individuals included free train transportation for themselves and 150 kg. of luggage as long as they were headed to communities of less than 20,000 people, away from the restricted coastal zones. Apparently, about 1,000–1,200 people left per day, many by road rather than rail.159

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Aside from the Cherbourgeois’ reluctance to travel as far as the Loiret, the evacuation proceeded relatively smoothly, and Meunier reported no manifestations of ill will in the population.160 Administrative flexibility clearly helped, and the heads of the local service of roads and bridges wrote that, “Thanks to the adroit policies of the French administration, which allowed the evacuees the choice of their means of transportation and final destination, the evacuation was carried out without resistance and in a satisfyingly orderly way, to the best interest of everyone concerned.”161 The total number of evacuees was, however, not nearly as high as it should have been. By 28 April, officials had documented the departures of only 9,860 people, though they estimated that about 12,000 had actually left the city.162 The discrepancy in the figures was probably due to the fact that many civilians failed to fill out required change of address forms. Ten days later, 15,695 people had made an official declaration of change of residence, though other information indicated that about 21,000 had left Cherbourg.163 Still, the Germans had demanded that 30,000 be evacuated by 1 May, and the Kreiskommandant threatened that, “if the evacuation is not completed by this date, … much more rigorous measures will be taken.”164 On 8 May, the German authorities used the local press to inform those not allowed to stay in Cherbourg that they should depart immediately. Residents’ papers would be inspected to confirm their right to remain.165 Later in May, the French authorities considered running another notice in the papers, but worried about drawing the Germans’ attention to the continued presence in the region of people no longer authorized to be there. They preferred to try to reach recalcitrant evacuees individually through an inspection of ration tickets.166 By the end of June, 17,647 people had made an official change of residence declaration.167 The actual number who had left Cherbourg seems to have been upwards of 25,000—as many as 35,000, according to some observers.168 For the time being, both the French and German authorities were fairly satisfied. However, it was not long before a new problem arose—evacuees began returning without permission from the reception areas. In a report on 1 September 1943, the préfet of Manche noted that, “The relative calm, from a military point of view, that has reigned at Cherbourg for the last several months has incited a certain number of evacuees to return. The presence of numerous children on vacation [in the city is] easy to observe.”169 The préfet now claimed that only about 20,000 people had left Cherbourg, instead of the up to 35,000 reported in May and June.170 The difference in the numbers was explained by Miss Bernot, inspector of the Secours National, who visited Manche in the fall of 1943. According to Bernot, “It is estimated … that 15,000 people have returned clandestinely since April and that there are now no more than 20,000 true evacuees.”171 This created a problem, for the presence of 15,000 unauthorized civilians in an evacuated city could not be justified by either the French or the Germans, yet

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it was difficult to keep civilians away. In early August, the German authorities informed the sous-préfet of Cherbourg that: If this unreasonable behaviour on the part of the evacuees persists, eventually the higher German authorities will be informed; that is to say that the Kreiskommandant would then be forced, … to intercede in a coercive way against the illegally returned evacuees, and … to comb through the civilian population of the area once again in order to determine who may be evacuated. What the latter measure would mean for the population does not need to be elaborated further.172

The French authorities were told to intercede to prevent “illegal” returns and to reevacuate those who had already returned. If they failed to do so, the Kreiskommandant would instigate daily police patrols and take the matter to the higher German authorities. When the Kreiskommandant’s note was published in French translation in the Cherbourg press, under the heading “Last Warning to Evacuees” (Dernier avis aux évacués), French officials, who had striven to assert control over the proceedings through delay and negotiation, understood that further hesitation would be futile.173 Soon, the préfet of Manche informed the Ministry of the Interior that, “In order to spare the population the suffering that would be caused by a new evacuation order, I have told the mayors of greater Cherbourg to exercise the greatest severity in the delivery of ration cards.”174 Under duress, the préfet adopted the German method of policing evacuations through ration cards. Refusing ration cards to evacuees who came home without permission was the simplest way to discipline them, for the cards were a convenient point of contact between civilians and the government. At least in theory, it was easy to refuse to hand out cards to citizens whose papers were not stamped with the official marking, “Résidence Aggl. Cherb. autorisé—Wohnsitz Aggl. Cherb. genehmigt” (Residence in greater Cherbourg authorized).175 At the beginning of the obligatory evacuation, the Kreiskommandant had informed Cherbourg’s sous-préfet that if French officials included “only those people who can show this stamp when the next ration cards are delivered, it will hardly be possible for those who have no right to stay here to remain in the city.”176 Where did the idea of using ration cards as a disciplinary tool come from? It seems to have originated with the German army in the Occupied territories. In France, the method was first used in January 1943 to discipline Lorient workers. In March, it was employed against civilian evacuees in Brest, and again at Bayeux in June, and in Rouen in August 1943.177 In the meantime, as detailed above, Gauleiter Hoffmann had imposed the measure to keep German evacuees from returning to the cities of the Ruhrgebiet. Evidently, disciplinary measures in the two countries overlapped. Evacuation policies more broadly did so also. In the same note in mid April 1943 in which the Kreiskommandant described how ration cards could be used

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to encourage evacuations, he explained that the best way to ensure children left the city was to close schools and evacuate pupils class by class with their teachers. This method, he noted, had “already been tested concretely to a significant extent in Germany.”178 The French took up the commander’s suggestion, and after initial reluctance, agreed to deny ration cards to disobedient evacuees. As late as August 1944, in fact, after the area had been liberated, some mayors in the department of Manche were still using ration cards to discipline evacuees. This time, however, they were trying to push Cherbourg residents still accommodated in their towns to return home. Since Manche was now under French and Allied control, however, this was no longer permissible. The new sous-préfet made it clear that any mayor making threats about ration cards was going beyond his rights and should conform to the instructions he had been given. In the new democratic France, denying ration cards to disobedient citizens no longer seemed an appropriate disciplinary measure.179 In Nazi Germany and occupied France, however, denying ration cards was one of several methods used to punish evacuees who returned home without permission. Evacuees’ allocations and family allocations could be withheld and, in some cases, also military allowances could be withheld. But these measures were not always enough, and in France, as in Germany, some officials wanted more severe penalties to apply. Unable to stem the tide of returning evacuees in his department, the préfet of Seine-Inférieure wrote to the Direction des Réfugiés in Paris to ask if “criminal or civil charges” could be laid against parents who brought their offspring back to Dieppe or Le Havre.180 The French government replied that, “The sanctions you have already applied represent the maximum the Administration can do to prevent the return of these children,” and reminded the préfet that more severe punishments might well bring with them “repercussions toward which the German authorities themselves would not be able to remain indifferent.”181 This response put the préfet in his place, but also implied that the French government thought he might be under pressure from the German authorities to take a harsher stance toward the evacuees. In rebuffing the préfet, the government also hoped to rebuff the Germans looking over his shoulder. In Germany, too, there were suggestions that custody rights should be taken away from “irresponsible” parents who brought their children back to endangered cities.182 Such suggestions went nowhere there either, probably because initiating legal proceedings against parents who did not follow evacuation orders would have trespassed against individual and familial rights in a way that denying ration cards or evacuees’ allowances apparently did not—or perhaps, the difference was merely that it was easier in practical and moral terms to deprive people of ration cards, than to prosecute them under the law for a misdemeanour many citizens did not find criminal. What made disciplining evacuees so complicated was that certain people seemed to have a kind of moral right to stay in cities even when the rest of the

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population was evacuated. It was especially difficult to deny ration cards to the wives of those tied to the city because their labour contributed to the war effort. At Cherbourg, the navy yards, railroad, and companies like Betrich and Hamel employed about 12,000 Frenchmen in the spring of 1943. Roughly three quarters of these men were married.183 French administrators, unlike the Germans, believed that workers’ wives should stay in the city if they chose. In the end, the French were able to defend their more generous position in the face of German opposition, and this became the decisive factor preventing antievacuation protests in Cherbourg. French and Germans disagreed strongly about whether or not to allow married women to stay with working husbands. In Germany, it was clear that women were supposed to leave cities such as Witten if air raids endangered the lives of their children. Children under six were difficult to billet alone with strangers and separating these youngsters from their mothers for long periods of time was considered unwise. German women were evacuated essentially to care for their progeny, and were reminded of this obligation often, though evacuating mothers also fit in well with the Nazis’ desire to protect women from the realities of war. The Nazis’ unwillingness to conscript women as factory workers and their reluctance to lower the standard of living on the home front are well documented. Policymakers seemed to think that sending women and children to Bavaria would enable them to live out a peacetime idyll undisturbed.184 The women themselves did not necessarily agree, however, because their ideas about familial obligation diverged from those of the state. At Witten, as we have seen, many women preferred to stay home regardless of the bombs, to lighten their husbands’ burdens in the city. The French position, on the other hand, recognized women’s direct and indirect contributions to the economy and life of the city. French instructions indicated that some women, children, and even the elderly ought to be counted among the “necessary” members of the population, whose evacuation should be avoided.185 This had its roots in a 1938 law that allowed wives and families of “indispensable” individuals to be classified as “indispensable” too, if they requested.186 French policymakers felt it was unwise to evacuate those “members of the workers’ families whose departures would risk as a consequence causing the departure of the ‘necessary’ or ‘indispensable’ people.”187 Though a woman’s right to stay in an evacuated area was less her own right than it was a right that accrued to her male relatives, the French position accorded well with women’s own preferences to stay at home. Perhaps strangely, considering their own attitudes in Germany, when it came time to evacuate Cherbourg in the spring of 1943, the Germans accepted the French point of view without apparent question. On 10 April 1943, the Feldkommandant wrote to the préfet of Manche that “it must be tolerated that the wives of [indispensable workers] (though not the other members of their families) may

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maintain their residence here.”188 Wives, though not other family members, could stay in Cherbourg, though the women should be prepared “to work for German units and offices, insofar as their personal family situations allow.”189 In practice it was not as simple as that, though, for once the Germans had conceded that workers’ wives might stay in Cherbourg, they also had to allow children under three to stay with their parents.190 Later, the French tried to negotiate to have the age limit raised to six, and though the Kreiskommandant’s response was evasive, he did not actually say no. The sous-préfet was eventually able to stretch the definition of “wife” to include some mothers or sisters who cooked and cleaned for working male relatives.191 In addition to French women’s usefulness in the city, there are several other reasons why the Germans accepted the French way of doing things. Although the Reich authorities believed that a German woman’s place was with her children, rather than with her husband, most German men were at the Front, so the government rarely had to deal with the conflict this entailed for families. The need to cook and clean for husbands was irrelevant unless the men were ill, on leave, or ineligible for military service. The intolerable situation of the Witten women, as we have seen, arose from the fact that while their husbands were at home working in essential industries, their children were supposed to be evacuated. At first, the women followed the state’s instructions to leave with their children, but they were soon torn between this obligation and the desire to rejoin and care for their men. When conditions in the reception areas proved less than ideal and bombing let up with the onset of winter, the women returned home. In France, in contrast, apart from 1.6 million women whose husbands were prisoners of war, and 600,000–700,000 others whose spouses were working for the Germans, most married women lived with their husbands at home.192 A wife’s dual role as spouse and mother was more problematic in this context. More generally, the Germans saw evacuating children as a parent’s duty to the state and the community, and they were not especially concerned about keeping family groups together. In France, on the other hand, evacuation was a familial obligation, and the authorities sought to minimize family separations as much as possible.193 In 1943, for instance, the Ministry of the Interior’s Direction des Réfugiés emphasized that, “The families of the ‘useful’ and ‘necessary’” were to be evacuated “to the interior of the department, preferably to a locality as close as possible to the place where the head of the family is staying.”194 For the Nazis, evacuating the children of the Volksgemeinschaft took precedence over the wishes of individual parents.195 Saving French children’s lives was of course not a German preoccupation, but neither, it seemed, was it a particular preoccupation of the usually pro-natalist French, especially if this desire conflicted with custom, family ties, and common sense. French authorities preferred letting young children stay in vulnerable Cherbourg with their working parents to splitting families and sending youngsters off to uncertain foster homes in the countryside.

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A final reason why evacuations proceeded differently in Cherbourg and other Norman cities, compared to the Ruhrgebiet, may have been their geographical situation. Norman cities were like islands in seas of farmland and many Cherbourgeois had family among the peasants of the interior. This was part of the reason the French authorities privileged closer evacuations, rather than sending people to the Loiret. If parents wanted to remain in town, moreover, it was probably relatively easy to arrange for even very young children to live with extended family in the countryside. Ruhrgebiet residents, in contrast, tended to be longer urbanized, without strong ties to the land.196 The longer distances involved in most German evacuations made visiting difficult and meant that the choice between leaving home with one’s children, or staying with one’s husband, was more fraught for Ruhrgebiet women. One reason the regime took a hard line on children’s safety in Germany was probably that, in contrast to France, there was less chance of negotiating a middle ground in which young children were evacuated locally while their mothers stayed in the city. Evacuees returning to Cherbourg without permission continued to be a problem over the summer of 1943. However, both German and French authorities remained well disposed toward returnees who were also “wives of indispensables” (Femmes d’indispensables). In September, the sous-préfet suggested to the Director of Refugee Services for Manche that: “there is cause to discriminate between people who can return to Cherbourg as ‘wives of indispensables,’ and those who—having been evacuated—return to the agglomeration for no reason at all.” The first group should be treated generously, but, “As for the latter, I think there is cause to refuse them [authorization to stay], even if they agree to reimburse the funds they were given when they left the city, as well as their travel costs.”197 Between 1 July and 14 August, the German authorities gave out 643 new authorizations for civilians to remain in Cherbourg. Of these authorizations, 320 went to married couples, giving both partners permission to stay in the city.198 After summer’s end, the danger of a land invasion again seemed minimal and poorer weather made air raids less likely. Residents of Cherbourg trickled back to the city through the fall, though population counts taken on 1 May 1943 and 1 February 1944 nonetheless showed that between these two dates, the city’s population had decreased by 20,000.199 Perhaps as many as 15,000 of the initial peak 35,000 evacuees had returned, but the population remained significantly lower than it had been when the Germans had first ordered evacuations.200 Still, it was not low enough. In early 1944, there could be little doubt that the Allies would soon attempt an invasion, and the Germans were determined to fortify Cherbourg as strongly as possible. A second wave of evacuations began that was intended to reduce the population of the city by half. On 24 February 1944, the newly named Festungskommandant Colonel von Rohr spoke to French civilian authorities. After boilerplate pronouncements on the German forces’ role in defending France against Bolshevism, von Rohr explained that Cherbourg was

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now officially a Festung (fortified redoubt). French officials must understand that the unpopular measures von Rohr might take were “necessitated by the war that we are forced to fight, [and] under no circumstances directed toward the French population.”201 Von Rohr added that the French had thus far been extremely cooperative, and announced, that “a more extensive evacuation of the fortress is necessary for military reasons.”202 He believed that he could count on continued French cooperation but concluded, lest his friendly overtures be misunderstood, that “I can leave no doubt about the fact that I will make full and immediate use of the powers that the laws of war grant me if I encounter resistance to my orders.”203 In keeping with Cherbourg’s new redoubt status, the terms of the 1944 evacuation were more radical than the previous year. Half the remaining population would depart, leaving only 10,000 people working directly for the Germans. The evacuations were supposed to begin on 1 March and be over within eight days, but the French claimed this was impossible. Preliminary decisions about who should go and who should stay were made 24 February, but there was lingering uncertainty, especially about the place of women. At first, the authorities decided that the wives of indispensable workers could remain in Cherbourg until further notice, for the sous-préfet reminded the Germans that “[i]n certain recently evacuated cities, experience has shown that the departure of the women brings with it the departure of a large number of men.”204 Two days later, however, they revisited the issue, for some workers’ wives would probably have to leave Cherbourg in order to meet the limited quota of those authorized to stay. Still, the authorities knew that the departure of the women “would bring with it difficulties as to the maintenance [le maintient] of the men,” so the question was left open for the time being, though the Germans agreed that they needed to reduce the number of women they themselves employed in various capacities.205 The 1944 evacuation resembled the one from the previous year, though it was more complete. After mid March, no children were permitted in the city at all.206 The same authorization stamp was used, with green ink this time, and the Germans announced that “[a]fter the first of April, police and army patrols will comb the individual streets and rows of houses to track down unauthorized residents, who will then be sent to work camps.”207 Despite these threats, evacuees continued to stay too close to the city and to return without permission. General von Schlieben, commander of terrestrial defenses for the Cotentin sector, informed the French authorities on 18 April that, “For quite some time … a more or less heavy flood of people has arrived in many communities [within Cherbourg]. In many cases, these are evacuees from Cherbourg or from other evacuated towns…. I hereby specifically prohibit all migration into the individual communities of the district.”208 On D-Day, 6 June 1944, Cherbourg’s mayor informed the sous-préfet that only 12,739 ration cards had been distributed for June. Some 7,352 recipients

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were male, 5,322 were female, and of the total, 2,702 cards went to workers employed directly by the Germans.209 There were still nearly 3,000 more civilians in the town than there should have been, but little could be done. Now, occupiers and occupied waited together to see which way the battle would turn. Less than a week later, Cherbourg was in the thick of the fighting. On 11 June, the French authorities advised “all those who are not constrained by their occupations to stay in Cherbourg [to] leave.”210 Two days later, the Germans ordered even workers to leave the city, with the exception of Handwerker (craftsmen) and those employed in food production. The French broadened the definition of who should stay to include everyone with a “social role to play,” but the message was clear—unless their presence was absolutely necessary, civilians should depart Cherbourg.211 By this point, the Cherbourgeois themselves understood it was time to go. When the Americans entered the city in late June, they found that only some 5,000 civilians remained.212 Notwithstanding German military occupation, Cherbourg’s evacuation had taken families more into account than that of Witten. This, along with the shorter duration and lesser distances involved in French evacuations, helped ensure that the population did not protest openly against evacuation measures. Opposition would have been possible, for popular protests did occur during the occupation. None took place at Cherbourg, however, despite widespread returns from the reception areas and the implementation of draconian policies against returnees. By taking families more into account, in reality and not just in propaganda, the French authorities acted as a buffer between civilians and the Germans. Their willingness to consider family ties and to negotiate on behalf of French families avoided setting up a Witten-like confrontation between individuals and the government over family sovereignty in evacuation.

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B

    , civilians who refused to be evacuated, or who returned from the reception areas without permission, had caused a crisis so serious that Westfalen-Süd’s representative in Gau Salzburg declared, “The evacuation measures will remain successful [only] if the evacuation of mother and child proceeds on the basis of selection.”1 This remark implied that selective evacuations would be a new development, implemented at this critical juncture to filter evacuees. The comment suggested that state-funded evacuations had hitherto been available to everyone, but, in fact, selection had been in place from the outset. After the war, former evacuation organizers in Germany argued that evacuations were one of the Third Reich’s great social programs. They viewed the measures as a benign and beneficial state-funded initiative, “a GOOD deed,” but the evacuations were neither completely harmless, nor universally available.2 Especially in Germany, evacuees’ behaviour was subject to constant scrutiny, and some were sent home when it became clear that they were not “worthy” of the state’s assistance. Other people living in Germany and France were never evacuated at all. The selectivity of evacuation programs contributed to their success, and the deliberate sacrifice of some segments of the population to aerial bombardments helped ensure, in various ways, the safety of the rest. Generally speaking, any person not considered part of the German or French “national communities” could not be evacuated. Though notions of citizenship in the two countries certainly differed, when it came to making choices about privilege and exclusion in the context of war and occupation, race and concepts of “healthy” and “normal” shaped criteria in both places.3 The present chapter focuses on Jews, the mentally ill, and so-called “asocials,” whose treatment confirms that policymakers viewed evacuation as a privilege, not a right. Admission to evacuation programs was reserved for healthy non-Jewish citizens who had not come into conflict with conventional moral standards or the law. Along with the Jews, the mentally ill, and the so-called “asocials” examined here, criminals, political prisoners, and members of persecuted groups such as the Jehovah’s witnesses,

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homosexuals, the Sinti, and Roma were not evacuated, but their smaller numbers make sources more problematic and conclusions less easy to draw. Leaving specific people out of state programs eased evacuations for the rest of the population and reminded citizens who were evacuated of the advantages of their situation. The exclusion of certain groups from evacuation measures served the racialist and eugenic goals of the Nazi regime. Since those in the cities were automatically more vulnerable to air raids, leaving “undesirable” individuals in urban areas turned Allied bombs into tools for genocide. Hitler’s ideologues spoke of the purifying power of air raids clearing out cramped medieval city centers to make way for the majestic reconstructions of the future. In the same way, the raids helped cleanse the Volk of perceived undesirable elements, while “racially valuable” citizens were protected elsewhere. In addition, refusing to evacuate people who did not belong to the “national community” helped mitigate the effects of bombing on the rest of the population. There were direct links between measures to assist urbanites after air raids, and the organized killing of Jews, “asocials,” the mentally ill, and other “undesirable elements.” This chapter does not detail the Third Reich’s “euthanasia” program, or the Holocaust itself, but rather documents the connections between these tragedies and the measures developed to help “worthy” citizens deal with the aftermath of aerial bombardment.4

The Jews Given the racial policies of the Nazi regime, it is no surprise that Jewish Germans were not evacuated to shelter from air raids. As early as 1934, Jews formally were excluded from civil defense preparations and barred from becoming members of Germany’s national civil defense organization, the Reichsluftschutzbund. For a short time, Jewish veterans of World War I were exempt from this rule, and some Jews trained as air raid wardens (Luftschutzhauswarte) to protect buildings inhabited only by Jewish Germans. This was justified initially on the grounds that if such buildings caught fire, they might “become a source of danger for the rest of the population,” but by 1938, Göring had decided that even in buildings with a majority of Jewish tenants, Jews could not be air raid wardens.5 When the KLV began, it was clear that Jewish children and their mothers would not be a part of it or any other state-funded evacuation measure.6 In 1939, when the western borders had been cleared of nonessential inhabitants, government regulations specified that relocated Jews would not receive the evacuees’ allowance.7 In fact, the authorities later admitted, such a regulation was largely irrelevant since, “as a rule, Jews are not evacuated.”8 Instead, they were deported. Occasionally, to the local authorities’ embarrassment, a Jew was evacuated by accident. In May 1944, for instance, Juliane Thiel of Dortmund was discovered in Baden. NSV representatives who investigated found that Thiel was the Jew-

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ish wife of a “full-blooded German.” Her marriage to an “Aryan” probably had helped Mrs. Thiel avoid deportation, and a neighbour unaware of her Jewish descent had put her name forward for evacuation. As soon as her origins were uncovered, however, the authorities tried to send Thiel home. She had recently suffered several fractures and they had to wait until she could be moved, but in the meantime, since she had neglected to add “Sara”—the compulsory name designating a female Jew—to her documents regarding evacuation, legal proceedings were initiated against her for having disguised her background. The results of the proceedings have been lost, but in August 1944, Mrs. Thiel and her husband were said to have returned to Dortmund.9 Juliane Thiel’s evacuation brought her to the attention of the authorities, and one can only speculate about the final outcome of her story. To avoid cases such as this one, the Nazis made their position on Jews as clear as possible. When a new law about evacuation allowances was under consideration in the fall of 1944, officials at the Reichssicherheitshauptamt (Reich Security Main Office or RSHA), who were asked to comment, specified that, “The granting of the evacuees’ family allowance to Jews, half-Jews, and gentiles married to Jews is not permissible for reasons of security and ideology.”10 These individuals should not be issued the Fliegerabreisebescheinigung that authorized a bombedout person to leave his or her home city and gave him or her the right to the evacuees’ allowance. Given that Jews had been barred from evacuation at the outset, it may seem strange that the RSHA insisted on a clarification of this kind so late in the war. Such a statement is both an example of the Nazis’ fondness for sham legal “justifications” to disguise illegal acts and suggests that cases like that of Juliane Thiel were more common than the central authorities liked to admit. In the chaotic hours after a raid, local officials were simply unable to look into the background of every evacuee. The experience of philologist and diarist Victor Klemperer, who left Dresden in the confused aftermath of the bombing in February 1945, confirms that for some Jewish partners in mixed marriages, post-bombardment confusion enabled an escape that would otherwise have been impossible.11 Not only the central authorities, but also the population objected to the evacuation of Jews. In October 1943, the Baden authorities learned that a woman who was said to be partly Jewish had been evacuated to their region. The illegitimate daughter of a Jewish father and a non-Jewish mother, she was married to an “Aryan” and had three children. The local liaison officer responsible for evacuees wrote to his superior that even if such a woman could be evacuated legally, her host family now refused to continue billeting her.12 Perhaps the billeting family would have been unhappy accommodating anyone, but when it turned out their “guest” was “non-Aryan,” they had an excellent excuse to evict her. The RSHA’s 1944 statement reminded officials to be cautious in order to avoid problems like these and uphold the racialist agenda of the regime.

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In France, measures against the Jews tended to be applied less consistently and rigorously than in Germany.13 Despite widespread anti-Semitism, the Jews’ position until the German victory in 1940 was more or less like that of other citizens, although the status of Jews who were not French citizens was more precarious than that of those who were. During the “exodus,” Jews, like other citizens, flocked south to avoid the German invaders. Following the armistice, the strictly policed demarcation line between Vichy France and the occupied zone in the north became a kind of filter, used by the occupiers to restrict the flow of racially or politically undesirable individuals into “their” zone.14 Even before an ordinance on the matter was signed on 27 September 1940, German officials at the border had begun refusing to allow Jews back into the occupied zone.15 The French did not object strenuously to the measure, apparently because they did not want to be held responsible and were afraid of provoking worse.16 Even policymakers uncomfortable with the regulations were rather naïve about German intentions and ill-equipped to negotiate about these issues. Ten months later, the Germans complained that trains crossing the demarcation line still contained Jews. They threatened to stop the trains entirely until they received assurances from the French government that no Jews would be allowed to board them, and the French, desperate to continue repatriations, acceded to German demands.17 The manipulation of the demarcation line, and of repatriation more broadly, shows how the Germans furthered their anti-Semitic agenda by exploiting evacuees’ situation and the French government’s desire to send these individuals home as soon as possible. It was clear that in occupied France, as in Germany itself, no Jews would be evacuated by the state. When plans were being made to evacuate children from a Paris girls’ school in late July 1943, for instance, French school officials eliminated the names of four “Israelites” from a list of children whose parents would be contacted to get permission for the evacuation.18 A German observer in the Paris area noted in 1942 that, “The measures against the Jews, at first heavily criticized, are now partly [teilweise] seen as just and necessary.”19 There may have been an element of wishful thinking in this comment, but as Michael Marrus and Robert Paxton, among many others, have demonstrated, much of the French participation in the Holocaust was quite deliberate. The refusal to evacuate Jews in France and Germany comes as no surprise in the Third Reich’s context of oppression. Less well understood are the many connections between the deportations of Jews and other “undesirables,” and the evacuations of “desirable” German and French civilians from air raid endangered cities. The goals of the two kinds of population transfer were polar opposites— evacuations sought to save lives, while deportations aimed at destroying them— yet they were linked in innumerable concrete and abstract ways. In both cases, a specific group of people was brought together, boarded a train, and proceeded, sometimes in the care of a social worker, to a destination far from home.20 The

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same Reichsbahn officials who scheduled passenger trains to take children of the Volksgemeinschaft to safe areas in occupied Poland, arranged cattle cars to take other children to Auschwitz.21 The parallels between deportation and evacuation did not escape Nazi officials. Indeed, they exploited superficial similarities to propagate the illusion that instead of a deportation, an “evacuation” of the Jews was taking place. Deliberately euphemistic, official documents used the word “Evakuierung” to describe deportations.22 At the same time, official instructions insisted that what is called evacuation in English—the transfer of civilians out of endangered areas to protect them from enemy incursions—should be referred to as “Umquartierung” or “Rückführung.” These words, drawn from military vocabulary, suggested a controlled manoeuvre or retreat. They were more acceptable to a regime that, as we have seen, only reluctantly adopted evacuations as a civil defense measure, because they implied vulnerability. The terminology was intended to obscure the nature of “real” evacuations and deportations alike.23 Like true evacuees, prospective deportees were told to pack a suitcase with items they might need to set up a new life elsewhere. Guidelines from the RSHA specified that Jewish “evacuees” should pack a suitcase or rucksack with: “Travel rations for approximately 5 days … 1 pair of sturdy work boots, 2 pairs of socks, 2 shirts, 2 pairs of underpants, 1 pair of overalls, 2 woollen blankets, 2 sets of bed linen (top and bottom sheets), 1 dinner pail, 1 drinking cup, 1 spoon and 1 pullover.”24 The instructions for real evacuees were very similar, and at least for a short time, some Jews may have fallen prey to the illusion that they actually were being evacuated, if not because of air raids, then at least to be resettled in the East.25 In addition to the abstract affinities between evacuations and deportations, there were very real links between the oppression of those outside the Volksgemeinschaft and measures to help civilians after aerial bombardments. In both Germany and France, the property of dispossessed Jews became housing for bombed-out families.26 Being assigned a newly vacated “Jewish” apartment eased the lives of many citizens, and the regime was never shy about publicizing the link between repression of the Jews and the benefits for the rest of the population. Many thought it only right that the Jews, who were said to have caused the war, should be made to pay its price. A representative of Düsseldorf ’s mayor reported in the fall of 1941, for example, that “The recently undertaken action against Jewish families has awakened great hopes among the bombed-out that replacement apartments will soon be made available.”27 This sentiment both expresses the depths of people’s callousness and underlines the extent of the wartime housing shortage. There had been a housing shortage even before the war, but air raids radically exacerbated it.28 Building lightweight Behelfsheime (makeshift homes) was one response, and Robert Ley’s Wohnungshilfswerk (Housing Aid Program) another, but the ongoing housing shortage also became one of the main arguments used to “justify” the large-scale deportation

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of Jews and others who did not belong to the Volksgemeinschaft. At the Wannsee Conference in January 1942, Richard Heydrich noted that, “In the course of the practical implementation of the final solution, Europe will be combed through from west to east … priority will have to be given to the area of the Reich, including the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, if only because of housing shortages and other socio-political needs.”29 Location became a significant determinant of the order of deportation, and “the first to be carried away lived in the northern and western German cities that were hardest hit by air war.”30 Confiscating Jewish property had been simplified in 1941 with the passage of the eleventh ordinance of the Reich Citizenship Law.31 Up until this point, a Jew had to be declared an enemy of the state before his or her property could be seized. The new law established that any Jew who left Germany (willingly or not) was no longer a Reich national, and his or her property was turned over to the state before being allocated to other tenants.32 So many were eager to claim apartments emptied by deportation that a decree was passed in June 1942 prohibiting landlords from renting out “Jewish” apartments without official approval. Minister of the Interior Frick and Secretary of State Stuckart hoped to assign newly vacated apartments to bombed-out families or large families, while the Ministry of Finance sought to give priority to civil servants. Eventually, a compromise was reached that gave local governments ten days to claim apartments not already earmarked for civil servants. Thereafter, landlords could rent their property to any tenant they chose. This system gave civil servants first priority, but also meant local governments could intervene in the housing market if necessary to ensure that air raid victims and large families were accommodated.33 Nevertheless, citizens who hoped a confiscated apartment might solve their housing problems sometimes found their expectations had been too high. Despite the “great hopes” of Düsseldorf ’s population recorded above, in early November 1941, authorities there were forced to admit that, “The hope for an easing of the housing market through the evacuation of about 1000 Jews [has] not fulfilled itself to the expected degree.” Regrettably, it seemed that “an increase of at most 100 to 150 apartments may be counted upon through these measures.”34 Clearly, more deportations would be necessary to increase the housing supply.35 Furniture and other items belonging to Jews were also given to bombed-out families. After confiscation, these objects were either auctioned off or turned over to the NSV, which redistributed them to needy members of the “national community.”36 Certain city governments, like those of Hamburg and Düsseldorf, were directly involved in this process. Ironically, because many air raid victims were workers, municipal officials in Düsseldorf worried that some of the confiscated apartments contained furnishings “inappropriate” for this class, such as “bookcases, side-boards and writing desks.” Belying the regime’s rhetoric of class equality, municipal officials felt this furniture would be wasted on workers. Un-

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surprisingly, many elegant confiscated pieces ended up in local government offices, or were auctioned to the highest bidder, presumably for the benefit of the municipal treasury.37 The reassignment of confiscated goods and apartments exemplifies how the Nazi state relied on the oppression of those outside the Volksgemeinschaft to cushion the effects of war on those within. Similar to the way that slave labour enabled (especially middle and upper class) women to stay out of the labour force and maintained morale on the Home Front, the use of “Jewish” apartments to house air raid victims helped alleviate discontent and war-weariness within a sensitive segment of the population.38 In France also, the local authorities, encouraged by the Germans, helped air raid victims benefit from the confiscated property of deportees.39 In Germany, competition between party, army, and various state offices complicated the redistribution of plundered apartments and goods. In France, the German military had clear priority. When deportations increased radically in April 1944 because the Germans almost entirely had taken over the process, the Sicherheitspolizei in France were informed that after a deportation had occurred, “You are to leave it to the local Wehrmacht quartering office to endeavour to get hold of the furniture and the apartments insofar as they may be useful for accommodation.”40 Confiscated buildings became offices or quarters for the occupation forces and most furniture was kept to embellish German offices in France or in the East. What remained, however, was assigned to bomb victims in Germany and France.41 The idea of using Jewish property to help French air raid victims appeared to originate with the German embassy in Paris. In fact, Maurice Delaunay, head of a rabidly pro-Nazi French organization called Le Feu, had suggested such a plan to embassy staff as early as October 1940.42 No one there seems to have picked up on the idea until 1942. In January that year, party propagandist Alfred Rosenberg ordered the Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg to collect “all household furnishings of Jews who had fled or were leaving the Western occupied territories.”43 Though much furniture went directly to the Reich, some stayed in France. After the destructive bombing of Paris suburb Boulogne-Billancourt in early March 1942, the Germans were dismayed to find that while French people deplored the casualties air raids caused, they felt the Allies were justified in attacking the French factories that were working for the Germans. Instead of turning public opinion against the Allies, aerial bombardments tended to strengthen anti-German feelings and hopes for an Allied victory. To change this attitude, the Germans suggested that, “Jewish apartments should be made available to the homeless bombed-out individuals.”44 The authorities would give special consideration to the victims of air raids at the expense of the scapegoat Jews. As described in chapter three, the collaborationist organization Comité Ouvrier de Secours Immédiat (Worker’s Society for Immediate Aid or C.O.S.I.) was created out of this impulse, “with the goal of influencing the working class politi-

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cally.”45 Staffed by French collaborationists of all stripes, it was given a founding gift of 100 million francs by the German authorities.46 Representatives of the embassy in Paris presented C.O.S.I. with a cheque at a villa that had belonged to a Jewish industrialist, making no effort to disguise the fact that the funds had been taken from the Jews.47 Indeed, C.O.S.I. personnel was encouraged to tell those it assisted that the money had come from, “the fine imposed on Jewish fortunes following the odious attacks that were perpetrated against members of the German army,” and that, “the German authorities believe that since this money comes from the [yoke of ] exploitation that the Jews have made weigh on the FRENCH workers, since it has been sweated by the FRENCH proletariat, it is right to return it to [the workers].”48 In mid May 1942, a staff member at the German embassy in Paris complained that despite these instructions, “Rarely, when this money is handed over, is the fact mentioned that it comes from the German occupation authorities, nor does anyone say that it is derived from Jewish capital and that … [it] has been rightfully claimed in order to ease the damages caused by the war unleashed by the Jews.”49 The Germans again instructed C.O.S.I’s representatives to tell beneficiaries frankly that the money had been taken from the common enemy of the French and the Germans—the Jews—and to suggest that the use of this money to help French bomb victims was a true sign of “la collaboration européene.”50 C.O.S.I. provided both financial assistance and confiscated furniture to air raid victims. Once a Jewish family had fled or been deported, family possessions were collected by the Einsatzstab Rosenberg. Representatives of the Einsatzstab turned over a first load of furniture to C.O.S.I. in a well-publicized ceremony on 22 April 1942.51 By the end of February 1944, furniture worth 670 863 Reichsmarks had been distributed to French civilians in the Paris area alone.52 Apparently, as in Germany, there were concerns that some furniture was “too good” for working-class evacuees.53 Perhaps to address this problem, or because certain air raid victims had been able to resell elegant furniture at a profit, C.O.S.I. tried to begin manufacturing cheaper items for air raid victims itself.54 The German authorities disapproved of this project, however, preferring to restrict C.O.S.I. to the distribution of so-called “Jewish furniture” only. This ensured that no raw materials were diverted from the war effort, enabled the Germans to keep an eye what was being passed on to French civilians, and limited the amount of “patronage” (in the form of commissions) that C.O.S.I’s leaders could bestow on their furniture-making friends. Perhaps most importantly, German bureaucrats in France disapproved of the idea that new furniture was being manufactured for the French, “For in the Reich itself, in thousands of cases, neither furniture nor other things, but only money is available [for air raid victims].”55 The shortage of material goods in Germany should never mean that the bombed-out French were better off than Germans.

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In the fall of 1943, in fact, Göring tried to have not just Jews, but all West Europeans stripped of nonessential furniture so that the excess could be given to bombed-out German civilians. Germany’s own military authority in France objected to this scheme, however, citing the absence of army units available for such an undertaking and the potentially disastrous political consequences. French Minister of Production Bichelonne agreed that for three months, 80 percent of new French furniture would be offered on a commercial basis to Germany, but that was as far as anyone was willing to go.56 From the spring of 1942, the distribution of furniture to bombed-out French families, and C.O.S.I. itself, served increasingly as cover for the large-scale transport of plundered possessions to the Reich.57 The French government informed the Armistice Commission at Wiesbaden that: The furniture was at first transported to a building at 11 rue de l’Abondance at Boulogne-sur-Seine [near Paris], to be distributed to the people affected by the R.A.F. raids on the factories of the Paris region. Since the month of April, more and more often [the furniture is] taken to the train station and loaded onto freight cars whose destination is not indicated.58

French authorities argued that the shipments were an attack on France itself, for, “These seizures of furniture deprive the French state of possessions that are without a doubt part of its patrimony. If this furniture must be sold because its owners have left the country, the proceeds should be given to the Secours National.” Further, they added that, “If one notes that the number of affected apartments reaches four thousand in Paris alone, one becomes aware of the importance of the sum of which the French state is thus dispossessed.”59 As many French suspected, “aryanization” had become merely an excuse for Germanization.60 Rather than objecting to these practices on moral grounds, however, French officials put forward pragmatic arguments. Their own anti-Semitism was surely part of the reason, but they also realized that it was pointless to try to convince the German Armistice Commission that there was anything wrong with stealing the property and possessions of Jews. An argument based on the “Frenchness” of these items, and the Secours National’s right to redistribute them, might prove more convincing. The German decision to fund C.O.S.I. with money taken from the Jews helped reassure the French, showing that plundered resources could help French civilians. Of course, the more the French were reassured, the easier it was to continue plundering, and in the end, the Germans remained the main beneficiaries. As many as 735 freight trains were used to transport to Germany the total quantity of “Jewish” goods confiscated in the western occupied territories (including the Netherlands and Belgium) during the war.61

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The reassignment of apartments and furniture taken from Jews in France, as in Germany, shows how ignoring the rights of those outside the national community helped ease the impact of air raids on those within. In a sense, however, these benefits were accidental. Throughout the war, the Nazi regime’s racialist agenda consistently took priority over measures to assist “Aryan” bomb victims. The sheer scale of the deportations, for example, actually got in the way of evacuation programs. Local and Reich officials often complained that excessive pressure on the Reichsbahn was making it difficult to evacuate women and children from the cities. Military exigencies were only part of the cause.62 Raul Hilberg has documented the negotiations between the military and the SS, which ensured that the transportation of Jews to concentration camps maintained their high place in the list of Reichsbahn priorities.63 The enormous amount of rolling stock devoted to these deportations meant that considerably fewer trains were available for other purposes, including civilian evacuations. This is further evidence of the extent to which the Nazis pursued their radically anti-Semitic policies even when they were counterproductive and detrimental to the well-being of Volksgemeinschaft members.

The Mentally Ill As early as 1938, when the first major plans to respond to aerial bombardments and land invasion were being made in Germany, Düsseldorf ’s local authorities were told to count the number of “mentally ill or mentally abnormal (grumblers, psychopaths, the criminally inclined)” who were not yet institutionalized, but who should be if war were declared.64 They were also asked to enumerate potentially dangerous psychiatric patients who would have to be removed from border zones if hostilities began. Superficially, these measures made sense, particularly in view of the planned evacuations of nonessential civilians living near the frontier. The rationale used to justify the evacuation of mental patients, however, was not that this would save lives; rather, the authorities argued that evacuation would minimize the risk of patients escaping and endangering others. The mentally ill might also impede military activities in the border regions. Even within this explanatory context, some local officials objected to the evacuation of psychiatric patients. The Medizinalrat (medical advisor) of Neuss agreed that non-institutionalized psychiatric patients who needed supervision should be institutionalized if general mobilization took place, but at the same time, he believed that, “it is … not appropriate to transfer [the patients] for their own safety to institutions further back [from the frontier], for they should not be granted greater protection than healthy citizens [Volksgenossen].”65 Moving psychiatric patients away from border areas would have implied special concern for their well being, which the Medizinalrat found misplaced. Of course, insti-

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tutionalized individuals, like other less able members of the community, needed the most protection from the events of a future war, but this was neither the Medizinalrat’s viewpoint nor that of the regime. Hitler himself apparently said of the mentally ill in the border areas, “We’ll leave them to the French.”66 Notwithstanding these attitudes, however, psychiatric patients were evacuated from vulnerable areas of the Reich when the war began. Hitler may have disagreed, but the military insisted, because the mentally ill could be a liability in a war zone and their facilities could easily be turned to other uses. Some emptied asylums, including at Rastatt in Baden, became military barracks, while others were claimed by branches of the Nazi party.67 The war became a convenient excuse to step up confiscations of religious and private charitable facilities.68 Psychiatric patients were evacuated under appalling conditions. On 4 September 1939, for example, 275 epileptics and 30 elderly inhabitants of the Asylum for Epileptics in Kork, across the Rhine from Strasbourg, were sent to the Stetten Asylum in Württemberg. The Stetten facility was already full, so the additional patients were simply crowded in with those already there.69 In Germany, no new facilities were dedicated to housing evacuated psychiatric patients. Crowding evacuated patients into institutions already running at full capacity was one thing, but the well-known so-called “euthanasia” program, involving the outright murder of tens of thousands of psychiatric patients, was also in full swing.70 This program had started before the war and was stepped up radically from the fall of 1939, as the regime realized that killing patients was “cheaper than caring for them.”71 Following an enumeration of German psychiatric institutions in September 1939, each institution received a questionnaire, on which the staff was asked to provide information about the patients’ ability to work.72 This information, ostensibly gathered “for wartime economic purposes,” was used to decide which patients would be killed.73 In order to disguise their fate, most were first moved from their home asylum to an intermediate facility, then transferred to one of the killing centers, where they were given lethal injections, gassed, or neglected until they died. The transfer to an intermediate facility (that was, incidentally, sometimes called an “Evakuierung”) made it harder for patients’ families to determine exactly what had happened.74 From the regime’s perspective, the “euthanasia” program served several purposes. It helped “purify” the Volksgemeinschaft and emptied asylums that could be converted to other uses.75 By 1943, frequent bombardments had increased civilian casualties while at the same time they had destroyed medical facilities. With hospital beds for soldiers and civilians in short supply, transfers of psychiatric patients out of urban asylums accelerated. The asylums thus emptied were reopened as emergency medical centers for the victims of bombing.76 In early February 1944, the chief health official for Gau Düsseldorf reported that over the previous year, a total of 2,920 patients had been moved away from the Gau’s three state-run mental hospitals (Düsseldorf-Grafenberg, Galkhausen, and

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Johannistal-Waldniel). He noted with satisfaction that 1,700 beds had been freed on a permanent basis for other patients. A small number of beds was kept open for diagnosis and treatment of new and short-term psychiatric patients, but the rest of the occupants were moved elsewhere.77 The report does not specify exactly where they were sent, but in the context of the Third Reich, it is almost certain that most became victims of “euthanasia.” Both urban and rural asylums were affected by government attempts to maximize hospital space.78 To liberate more beds for urgent care in urban hospitals, chronic cases and less critically ill “normal” patients were transferred out of the city as soon as they could be moved. They were transported to the nearest available facilities—often psychiatric hospitals in rural areas. When a trainload of civilians from a recently bombarded city arrived, the new patients were automatically given preference over the facility’s existing inhabitants. Instructions from June 1943 informed health officials in Düsseldorf that, “The beds of the mentally ill should be at least temporarily vacated in order to receive these patients. In the case of a catastrophe [a major air raid], the mentally ill should be accommodated in makeshift beds in heatable corridors, dining rooms, asylum chapels, etc.”79 Urban bomb victims were evacuated at the expense of psychiatric patients in rural hospitals, who were to be moved, at least temporarily, out of their rooms and into the public spaces of their building. Like the patients from city psychiatric hospitals, many mentally ill in rural institutions ultimately became victims of “euthanasia.” Regardless of the regime’s apparent desire to eliminate psychiatric hospitals and their inhabitants entirely, Düsseldorf ’s chief health official emphasized that it was still necessary to keep a few beds open for the diagnosis and treatment of new and short-term mental patients. He defended this requirement by pointing to “the presently rising number of patients who are suffering from nervous and psychiatric ailments.”80 Wartime conditions, Creutz suggested, were causing an increase in mental illness. Especially public institutions, like those for which he was responsible, had a legal obligation to care for these individuals. Many shortterm patients, afflicted by bombing-induced nervous disorders, might soon be rehabilitated. Their situation was different from that of the chronic cases, Creutz implied, yet it was next to impossible to distinguish clearly between the two groups. Indeed, wartime rendered more opaque the boundary between sanity, insanity, and temporary insanity, sometimes with tragic consequences. After the July 1943 fire bombing had reduced Hamburg to rubble, local doctors committed several women who had lost their wits to the Langenhorn Sanitarium. Soon, 97 of these women were taken to Hadamar, a facility near Limburg that was known as an “euthanasia” center.81 About 20 percent of the women lived alone, without close family to look after them. After being transferred to Hadamar, they died. Relatives who inquired into the circumstances of their deaths were told vaguely

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that “exhaustion accompanying mental illness,” “frailty,” or “rapid degeneration” had led to their demise. The authorities were now in such a hurry to dispose of psychiatric patients that they did not wait to see if relatives would claim them, or if some, unbalanced by the horrors of air war, might, after a short period of rest, be cured.82 In this situation, economic value became the main criterion for making decisions about life and death.83 Some patients were able to work at least part-time and helped with basic tasks in running their own hospitals. Even when these facilities were converted to emergency hospitals for air raid victims, such patients could still be useful and a minimum number of beds had to be set aside for them. Given the labour shortage, they could not be replaced by other staff.84 As the war continued, it became increasingly difficult to justify the transfer of psychiatric patients across the Reich, even if the destination was a “euthanasia” center. Perhaps for this reason, or in order to keep up the pretence that the organized murder of the mentally ill was not in fact taking place, by February 1944, the Reich authorities had come up with a new plan that complemented “euthanasia,” but took fewer resources. At the end of January 1944, Goebbels informed the Gauleiter that Hitler had agreed that, “Where conditions allow, the [rural] asylum buildings should be switched for vulnerable hospitals in the major cities, and the psychiatric patients who are not dangerous to the public should be housed in the aforementioned hospitals.”85 The mentally ill in rural facilities who escaped direct “euthanasia” were to be transferred to urban areas, where they would be exposed to air raids to “make room for maternity and pediatric clinics” in the countryside.86 The dual goals of eliminating mental patients and favouring the reproduction of “desirable” members of the Volksgemeinschaft would thus be served with the help of the Allied air raids themselves. If, by the logic of the regime, it made sense to exchange psychiatric patients for “healthy” urban members of the national community, the measure nonetheless brought complications that made it nearly impossible to carry out. Quite apart from the difficulty of transporting large groups of mental patients, or the problems that arose when they were re-housed inappropriately, all psychiatric hospitals required at least a skeleton staff of healthy Germans. The lives of these individuals would be endangered if rural mental hospitals were exchanged for urban facilities elsewhere. This problem continued to plague the authorities. On 25 November 1944, as the Allies pressed forward, the government declared that, “Facilities for mental patients and the feeble-minded may not be accommodated outside the home region.”87 Patients still alive in areas about to be overrun by the enemy would stay where they were, awaiting the war’s end in conditions that, given the destruction caused by the bombs and battle itself, were frequently appalling. Düsseldorf ’s regional president reported to local Gauleiter that after an attack razed their hos-

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pital, 140 female patients of the Josephs-Heilanstalt in the city of Neuss were “housed for days seated on benches in the basement of the completely destroyed building.”88 The government had arranged for some patients to be transferred to the Sudetenland, and the regional president hoped the rest would be moved to nearby private institutions within the next few days. He argued that if the patients stayed, not only the “helpless mentally ill,” but also the institution’s staff would continue to suffer and he asked that space for mental patients be found in reception areas after all. This letter shows that certain representatives of the state bureaucracy were sympathetic to the patients’ situation; the Gauleiter’s response, representing the view of the party, was much harsher. The Gauleiter wrote that even if an area were completely evacuated, psychiatric patients must remain where they were, guarded by an absolute minimum of staff.89 Above all, he insisted that, “accommodation in the reception areas is out of the question due to lack of space.”90 What these rules meant in practical terms by the end of the war is revealed in an extraordinary letter, written in February 1945 by Luise K., a former patient at the Meseritz-Obrawalde asylum in Pomerania. According to Fräulein K., when the eastern part of Germany was overrun by the Russians, the staff at MeseritzObrawalde simply disappeared, “leaving us to the enemy behind locked doors and windows.” Along with several others, Luise K. escaped just as the Russians were gaining control of the area. Through gunfire, she found her way to nearby Meseritz, then to Berlin. With the help of the NSV, she travelled to Oldenburg, where she was currently staying with relatives. She had written to the Ministry of the Interior to complain about the cowardice and irresponsibility of the asylum staff.91 The response of a functionary at the office of the Reichsbeauftragte für die Heilund Pflegeanstalten (Reich Commissioner for Mental Hospitals) indicates prevailing attitudes toward institutionalized patients at the end of the war. “In and of themselves, psychiatric institutions are not evacuated,” he wrote, since, “given the Soviet atrocities reported in the press, it can not be expected of healthy hospital staff that they run the risk of falling into Bolshevist hands in order to continue to care for mental patients.”92 Instead, the staff fled, leaving their patients behind. Notwithstanding the absence of staff, the much-feared Soviet soldiers who arrived at Meseritz-Obrawalde found about a thousand patients still alive. Horrifying evidence revealed, “that this was no hospital; but rather, a fascist camp, where mass murders were carried out.” Soviet medical experts later compiled a report with photographic and other evidence to document the crimes committed at Meseritz-Obrawalde.93 It is clear that German evacuation policies were formulated to protect “healthy” and “valuable” Volksgemeinschaft members, and others were pushed aside. In wartime, psychiatric hospitals were resources too valuable for the regime to leave untouched. Even if new furnishings were required, these facilities were much

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easier than other structures to convert into regular hospitals. The fact that the existing inhabitants of psychiatric institutions were considered expendable only simplified the process. In France, evacuation policies for the mentally ill were less radical, though during the occupation, some of the same policies were adopted as in Germany. Early evacuation plans for the French eastern border zones included the provision that all movable patients should be evacuated from vulnerable hospitals, for instance, in Strasbourg.94 Though psychiatric hospitals were not mentioned specifically, we can assume they would have been included in these instructions. In the spring of 1940, a representative of the administration was sent to examine the possibility of rehousing patients from Haut-Rhin (Alsace) in an existing asylum at Toulouse, if space could be found.95 Despite advance planning, the chaotic conditions of the “exodus” meant that hospitals were overrun and patients went missing. In June 1941, the Ministry of Health asked all psychiatric hospitals to provide lists of “unclaimed” patients admitted since May 1940, in order to try to match the patients up with people lost since the “exodus” who might have been institutionalized.96 As late as January 1942, there were calls to identify Belgian patients who might have escaped in 1940 and made their way to France.97 Once France was occupied by the Germans, French psychiatric hospitals, like other institutions, were subject to requisition. Recovering from dysentery in August 1940, future novelist Heinrich Böll admired the gardens of the Hôpital Psychiatrique de Dury-les-Amiens, whose former inhabitants had been removed.98 In July 1942, the Feldkommandant of Caen ordered the evacuation of the psychiatric hospital Bon Sauveur, located in a convent near the center of Caen. Its evacuation coincided with orders to clear hospices for the elderly in the coastal zone of Calvados and in the cities of Caen, Bayeux, and Pont-l’Evêque. French officials calculated that a total of 2,271 people would have to be moved, 1,230 of whom were mentally unstable.99 The transfer was to begin as soon as trains were available, and the psychiatric patients (480 men and 750 women) were to be spread among similar institutions in nearby cities such as Rouen, Evreux, Boneval, and Alençon. The goal of the evacuation was to clear hospitals because the Germans had requisitioned them, not because the authorities thought the patients needed to be removed from vulnerable areas. Patients would be transferred to the nearest available facilities, even if these were located in cities already targeted by Allied bombers.100 As facilities were destroyed and the likelihood of invasion grew, the French Minister of Health and Social Services complained that, “We are progressively deprived of the use of numerous hospital establishments.”101 Fear of more extensive raids and casualties accompanying an Allied landing helped convince the French authorities to comply with German demands. Officials in Paris reported in February 1944 that they had been asked to free up beds near hospitals ca-

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pable of performing surgery. Chronic patients such as the mentally ill would be relocated to other facilities.102 Psychiatric patients usually had no active role in the economy, and they were often easier to evacuate than other “nonessential” individuals, like the hospitalized elderly, who resisted the evacuation themselves, or whose families objected to the measure. By the time of the Liberation, French civilians of all stripes were increasingly reluctant to submit to urban hospitalization. The Minister of Health and Social Services noted that, “In bombarded cities, the population hesitates to be hospitalized for fear of not being able to be taken to shelter rapidly if there were an air raid warning.”103 In response, the French tried to make more rural hospitals available for civilians.104 Despite the scarcity of facilities outside the cities, however, and the tendency in France, as in Germany, to treat psychiatric patients less considerately than other citizens, French mental patients were apparently never moved back into urban spaces to clear rural institutions for other uses. This contrasts with Germany, where Hitler had sanctioned such a procedure. Still, the treatment of the mentally ill in France was far from humane. The potential repercussions of an evacuation for psychiatric patients are suggested by the fate of Pauline D., a 62 year-old schizophrenic removed from the Aix-enProvence asylum to the Vinatier hospital in Lyon in April 1944. Pauline D. died there on 9 December 1944, of “Cachexia of nutritional origin.” Her sister, who had corresponded with the doctor frequently about Pauline D.’s care, compared the corpse to a “skeleton” and linked the death to depression associated with Pauline D.’s more isolated situation in Lyon. Before the evacuation, the sister had often visited, but Pauline D.’s evacuation made this impossible. The lack of visits probably also meant the absence of food parcels the sister might have brought to compensate for the meagre nourishment afforded asylum patients.105 Indeed, although the mentally ill in France may not have been subject to open “euthanasia” like that taking place in Germany, several studies have suggested they were routinely malnourished during the war. Max Lafont, who examined the evidence from a medical perspective, contended that as many as 40,000 patients were underfed to the point of starvation.106 In a study published in 1948, the Comité médical de la Résistance (Medical Committee of the Resistance) noted that wartime rations in psychiatric hospitals varied between 1,000 and 1,500 calories per day, whereas the average city-dweller ate at least 1,500 to 2,000 calories per day in 1941–42. The study considered an ideal food intake to be closer to 2400–2800 calories per day. Its authors added that, “Very frequently, these theoretical rations were not even distributed to the patients.” The study also pointed out that whereas one in five hospitalized psychiatric patients had died of tuberculosis before the war, the same malady was now killing one in two.107 More recently, Isabelle von Bueltzingsloewen has contested the idea that the deaths of mentally ill patients in occupied France were in any way premeditated. She notes that in late 1941, psychiatrists actually began campaigning to improve

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their patients’ conditions. These efforts led to a directive a year later allotting extra rations to mental patients. Deaths at the Vinatier hospital decreased by over 40 percent in 1943.108 This evidence notwithstanding, an abnormally high number of patients did die between 1940 and 1944. The causes were diffuse, but the prevalent food and housing penury meant that the mentally ill in France were neglected in favour of the rest of the population. The fate of the Bon Sauveur hospital in Caen highlights the potential impact of battle itself on psychiatric patients. Perhaps surprisingly, given that they had ordered its evacuation in 1942, the Germans had not yet taken over the Bon Sauveur a year later. When a bombardment in late April 1943 destroyed parts of the civilian hospital in Caen, the Germans requisitioned the rest of that facility instead, probably because it required no conversion to be used as a military hospital. The civilian hospital’s maternity ward, pediatric medicine, and surgery departments moved to the Bon Sauveur, still free of German presence.109 Indeed, the Bon Sauveur remained in French hands for the duration of the war and served as a regular hospital from the spring of 1943 onward.110 During the Liberation, it became the main center for the treatment of serious injuries, and doctors there managed to keep three operating rooms running as battle raged around them.111 Despite the earlier evacuation orders and the conversion of the hospital for broader use, some psychiatric patients were apparently still at the Bon Sauveur when the Liberation began. When conditions became too dangerous, they and 4,000 civilians, who had taken refuge at the hospital, were led on a trek to safety by the convent’s Mother Superior. Most of the healthy evacuees joined others from Caen already hiding in quarries at nearby Fleury, but historian John Keegan describes how “[t]he nuns’ charges, the senile, the demented, the congenitally insane, were led in a straggling column, the Blessed Sacrament at its head, westward along the line of the fighting toward the daughter house at Pont-L’Abbé, forty miles distant in the Cotentin.” Keegan notes the strange effect the patients had on the soldiers as they approached, “[b]lundering at times into the ragged and indistinct no man’s land which separated Germans from Americans, and shocking both into unofficial armistice by their macabre intrusion from a third world of the mind.”112 The column arrived safely, but not before adding to the weirdness of the battle and reminding civilians and combatants alike that war affected even these poor souls, normally so shielded from the outside world.

The “Asocials” Like members of the two groups discussed above, civilians identified as “asocial” were not included in either German or French evacuation measures.113 The privilege of evacuation was afforded those whose behaviour accorded with the ideals of the regime, and the authorities in Germany were concerned about the “quality” of evacuees from the very start. In October 1940, soon after the children’s

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evacuations began, social workers in Hamburg noted that, “the first who signed their children up to be evacuated were not always the most valuable.”114 Employees in the social service sector suspected that evacuation was being used by some parents to get troublesome children off their hands, and they were outraged by the abuse of programs meant to assist only the most worthy members of the Volksgemeinschaft. As with other groups mentioned in this chapter, however, there were problems delineating the boundaries between “asocials” and the rest of the population. Sometimes, perceived “asocial” behaviour had not been identified while an evacuee lived at home in the city, but came to light after he or she had been evacuated. Billeting with a family in a rural area left an individual’s private life more open to scrutiny, and animus between hosts and evacuated guests easily provoked allegations of “asocial” behaviour. As chapter four shows, evacuees’ suspicious activities could result in their being sent home from reception areas. Sometimes, if a person was then formally identified as “asocial,” dismissal from the evacuation program might have more serious repercussions as well. In June 1943, NSV liaison staff from Westfalen-Süd in the reception areas were informed that, “Asocial elements among the evacuees, rumour-mongers, and those who continuously disturb the community with their behaviour, are to be reported … to the Gestapo’s special representative so that the necessary steps may be taken. Some such Volksgenossen may possibly, with the personal permission of the Gauleiter, be moved to designated places … where special supervision is possible.”115 The discovery of “asocial” behaviour could mean transfer to a reformatory, or to one of the colonies established for “asocials,” like Hashude outside Bremen, or Burhag in Dortmund. “Asocials” were also sent directly to concentration camps.116 These regulations affected not only adults, but also children. The NSV in Bühl (Baden) reported in July 1943 that although cases of mild disobedience had been settled “with a good beating,” two evacuated brothers caught stealing had been moved to an Erziehungsheim (reformatory) at Weingarten. The local authorities had taken this step without waiting for the Gauleiter’s permission, let alone getting in touch with the boys’ parents. They suggested that further instructions about the boys should be sent directly to the reformatory.117 As time went on, there were concerns that the evacuation programs were being exploited by certain municipalities to get rid of problem residents. Dortmund, for instance, came under fire in 1943 for being too eager to evacuate a group of “asocials” living at the Burhag colony, “a closed block of houses, where all the outside windows have bars, and at the entrance of which there is a police station set up to guard the inhabitants.”118 In June 1943, a train carrying evacuees from Dortmund arrived in the Black Forest, with five adults and 26 children from Burhag aboard. Since the group consisted entirely of women and children, it is possible that the Dortmund municipal authorities had evacuated them simply

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because they were just as much endangered as other citizens of the city. Perhaps, however, the Burhag residents were moved because municipal officials thought they posed a security risk and might take advantage of an air raid to escape and engage in pillaging. Whatever the case, the NSV representative in Lenzkirch (Baden), where the evacuees had been sent, noted that other children from Dortmund refused to play with the Burhag children. Soon, he had more serious problems to report. A boy was caught stealing a postcard and ink from a local stationery store, and an older girl was said to have been absent from her quarters several nights running. Within four days of the train’s arrival, the NSV representative had written to his superior that families in the reception area could definitely not be expected to open their homes to individuals from Burhag. He requested that, “These citizens [Volksgenossen] be removed from here as quickly as possible and taken to a camp [in ein Lager verbracht werden].” Moreover, he felt that, “The greatest reproach must be made to the Dortmund municipal authorities, for they sent these in some sense interned individuals, who in some cases were not even bombed-out, to the Black Forest.”119 Teachers responsible for overseeing the transport to Baden claimed that they had tried to keep the “asocial” families off the train, but Dortmund officials had insisted they be included. To the local NSV representative, it looked very much as if Dortmund had been only too eager to off-load its troublemakers to the Black Forest. It is hard to evaluate the truth of this claim. The lack of men in the group might tend to support the conclusion that the Dortmund authorities sought merely to save lives, or felt that the Burhag women and children deserved as much consideration as the rest of the population. On the other hand, there may have been no men simply because they had all been called up, imprisoned, or conscripted into jobs in war industries. The Baden authorities may have been right, and evacuation was being used to get troublesome social cases out of Dortmund. Whatever the truth of the matter, by the end of July, all but a small number of the Burhag evacuees had been sent away from Baden. A couple of young children remained in foster homes in the reception area, but the rest had departed. It was part of Nazi policy to split up “asocial” families, by taking the children out of the custody of their parents and either institutionalizing family members separately, or putting the children into foster care.120 Ironically, evacuation itself had the same splitting effect on “normal” families—it sentenced them, in effect, to a punishment normally reserved for the “asocial” minority. The final destination of the Burhag residents remained undisclosed. Perhaps they were simply returned to Burhag, but it is equally possible that they were transferred directly to a concentration camp.121 In the early fall of 1943, the Gauleiter of Westfalen-Süd, Hoffmann, issued new instructions about evacuees who demonstrated “asocial” behaviour in the reception areas. Earlier documents had indicated that troublesome evacuees should be

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brought to the attention of the Gestapo’s special representative. Now, Hoffmann suggested it would be simpler if “asocials” were sent directly back to their home city; moreover, this transfer could occur on the authority of his own liaison officers in Baden alone and did not require the involvement of the police. The head liaison officer of Westfalen-Süd in Baden informed his local representatives that, “asocial evacuees, asocial children, mental patients and other such people who put an unbearable burden on the reception areas, may be sent home and also granted their ration cards if an appropriate permit has been procured from the district liaison officer.”122 In part, this was nothing more than an attempt by Hoffmann to extend his control over evacuee discipline and eliminate the need to involve the Gestapo. But it also may have been intended to simplify matters when evacuees’ behaviour was merely problematic, rather than “asocial.” Hoffmann and his liaison officers may have felt that members of the community would be more willing to identify troublemakers if they thought the punishment involved sending the evacuees home, not leaving them to the mercy of the Gestapo. Returning “asocial” evacuees to the cities was another way (as in the cases described above) to turn Allied aerial bombardments into tools for eugenics. “Asocials” sent home to the city were more likely to be killed in air raids, and housing in safe areas could be reserved for “worthier” urban residents. The great irony, however, was that Gauleiter Hoffmann made his decision at a time when, as chapter five shows, many members of the Volksgemeinschaft, desirable evacuees, were clamouring to get back home. At least as far as the trip home went, they would have liked nothing better than to have traded places with “asocials.” Ration cards were denied “normal” evacuees who returned to the cities without permission, but Hoffmann’s guidelines stated specifically that “asocial” evacuees transferred homeward would have every right to reclaim their ration cards. Of course, the choice to return to the city was not theirs to make and that made all of the difference. Compared with the other groups discussed above, it is less easy to identify benefits for the rest of the population resulting from the poor treatment of, and refusal to evacuate, “asocials.” When the Hashude colony near Bremen was dissolved in 1940, one of the reasons given was that the buildings could then become housing for “valuable” large families. Some Hashude families, who were thought to have been reformed, were assigned apartments in the remodelled complex, but others were moved to barrack-like shelters, and some likely ended up in concentration camps.123 In this case, housing for “asocials” was turned over to other citizens, but there is no direct link between this and evacuation measures. It is quite possible that, later in the war, the apartments of families who had been moved to an “asocial” colony, such as Burhag, were used to house bombed-out members of the Volksgemeinschaft, but this did not occur on nearly the same scale as the “reuse” of the housing and furniture of dispossessed Jews. Still, every “asocial” person who was not evacuated, or who was sent home in disgrace, left space in the reception

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areas for the evacuation of another, more “worthy” individual. This both served the racialist and eugenic interests of the Volksgemeinschaft and reminded those who did qualify for evacuation of the privileges of their position. In France, the rules about “réfugiés indésirables” seem to have been more lenient, at least where the French authorities themselves were concerned. No rules stated specifically that “undesirables” should not be evacuated, though as early as fall 1939, there were calls to make special arrangements for people who could not be easily accommodated in the reception areas. A report on preventative evacuations from the Paris area suggested that, “Undesirables giving rise to complaints may be opportunely placed at a distance from others, following arrangements made by the local authority.”124 Like “asocial” in Germany, “indésirable” in France could cover a range of misbehaviour, from petty theft, through adultery, to alcoholism. The treatment of “undesirable” evacuees in France tended to depend on two things—the seriousness of the misdemeanour and whether or not the evacuee was a French citizen. During the occupation, as we have seen, French evacuees were moved or sent home for perceived immoral behaviour, though it does not seem that this took place as often in France as in Germany. The Germans themselves were uninterested in the morals of French evacuees; they were concerned only with acts they saw as criminal. In the interest of peace in the reception areas, the Secours National saw it as its social workers’ role to keep an eye on evacuees, and in particular, to make decisions about where they should be billeted and about which ones needed to be moved or sent away. At a workshop conference in 1943, Secours National staff were told that, “There is a whole chore of selection there that is incumbent on you, social workers of the Secours National, on you and on no one else … there are undesirable evacuees who must not stay in a village; it is they who make the others carry the weight of their faults.”125 “Undesirable” evacuees remained problematic, and in the spring of 1944, the head of French police specified that, “Evacuees’ status is no obstacle … to the taking of administrative measures against those who endanger public safety.”126 If an evacuee had been under police surveillance before leaving home, the police were obliged to inform their colleagues in the reception area of this fact. Citizens known to the police were supposed to be quartered outside of major cities and given only very limited freedom of movement. They were to be installed in communities with a police station, so that they could register their presence with the chief of police each week. As was the case for Jews in France, clear distinctions were made between the treatment of French citizens and that of foreign nationals. The rules for foreign evacuees known to the police were harsher, including the same limitations on their freedom of movement, and also, if the case warranted, expulsion or internment. Still, the head of the French police ended his 1944 circular with the comment that, “The measures that you will be led to take against refugees or evacuees

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must always be inspired by the double concern to safeguard public order and to avoid sanctions that are overly severe against a population that is suffering.”127 While the question of “undesirable” French evacuees did not really interest the German authorities, the Germans were concerned about security issues, and evacuation sometimes provided a convenient excuse to remove civilians they considered dangerous. In the spring of 1942, for instance, the French authorities noted that the Germans had decided to order the evacuation of 8,000 people living in the port city of Le Havre. As part of the larger project, “300 undesirables will be sent to a concentration camp.”128 It appears that the actual numbers affected were not that high, since the préfet of Seine-Inférieure later reported that only 60 “undesirables” had been transferred to Montsûrs in Mayenne. The documents do not specify exactly what these “undesirables” had done, and it seems likely that the Germans had simply used the obligatory evacuation as a convenient moment to round up anyone who might threaten their security. Indeed, the French préfet himself added that with these people gone, “The surveillance of the properties abandoned [by other evacuees] will be … facilitated.”129 Clearly, certain individuals were considered a security risk, especially in air raid endangered centers. The Cherbourg prison was cleared in 1942, long before general orders were given to evacuate the city, probably because of fears a destructive bombardment might enable the prisoners to escape.130 Finally, in a strange reversal of the idea that evacuation was a privilege available only to citizens of good moral standing, evacuations, of a kind, could also be used as a punishment in occupied France. The German authorities declared that, “As a preventative and punitive measure in cases of sabotage and attacks against the German forces, it may become necessary to clear the people out of residential areas (streets, neighbourhoods).” Due to the possible political, economic, and security implications of such “evacuations,” each individual case had to be cleared through the Militärbefehlshaber himself, but the small-scale emptying of individual houses could be ordered by the local German authorities if sabotage had occurred nearby.131 *** The many cases in which evacuations were forbidden or manipulated show that they were certainly not part of a universal and voluntary program. Neither the French, nor the Germans, really pretended that they were—evacuations were always contingent on good behaviour, and in the shadow of the Third Reich, there were racialist and eugenicist criteria as well. In Germany, the regime had “tended to frame all domestic policies around preparing the nation for war; even the idea of creating the racially pure and internally harmonious ‘community of the people’ was discussed in terms of the next war” long before it began.132 Consistent with this attitude, the deliberate oppression of those who did not belong to the “national community” helped the rest of the population survive the conflict.

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In France, the German occupation institutionalized and exploited ordinarily marginalized attitudes. The Germans were able to use pre-existing anti-Semitism and a lack of consideration for the less fortunate and “indésirables” to underwrite their own policies in the occupied territories. Alongside the activities of the most vigorous collaborators, a series of devil’s bargains made by the Vichy regime drew the French into the oppression of minorities to preserve sovereignty and lessen the burden of the occupation on the rest of the population. The French situation speaks both of how skilled the Germans were at manipulating a conquered nation and of how dangerous even relatively latent racialism and eugenicism become in the wrong circumstances. Ostensibly Republican, not racial, ideas of citizenship and national identity were little protection when it came to deciding in wartime who deserved the state’s assistance and who did not. Limiting evacuations to certain citizens clearly reinforced the idea that participation was a privilege. This may have made the measures more palatable, encouraging otherwise sceptical parents to evacuate their children, and limiting “illegal” returns from the reception areas. Cutting some people out of the programs enabled others to join, and responses to air raids more generally were facilitated by the oppression of those who did not belong to the “national community.” Emptied asylums became civilian hospitals, the apartments of deported Jews housing for bombed-out families. Selection was an integral part of war relief and evacuation and belies the postwar notion that evacuation programs were among the more successful and positive ventures of the Third Reich. The beneficiaries of these programs, bombed-out civilians, can not be seen in an uncomplicated way simply as victims of war.133

  

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He who raises the torch of war in Europe can only desire chaos. —Adolf Hitler, 21 May 19351

A

   , conditions on the war and home fronts grew unpredictable and confused. German military retreats were paralleled by largescale civilian evacuations, conceived preventatively at first, with the “exodus” of 1940 in mind. However, the increasingly desperate Axis position meant that formal attempts to direct civilians degenerated into stopgap measures that increased, rather than diminished, disorder and loss of life. By late 1944 and once the Reich lost supremacy over its own airspace, there was nowhere left to hide. The National Socialist regime was unwilling to admit the depth of the problem, however, and left evacuations to the last minute. When the central authorities refused to implement timely measures and organized evacuations became a government pipe-dream, civilians fell back on their own resources. At times, they actively opposed government measures; often, they simply ignored them. When the situation became intolerable, family groups, friends, and sometimes whole villages made for safety as best they could. The events of the final year of the war, like those of 1940 in France, confirm that evacuations work best when battle is going well for those involved.2 This may seem an obvious point, but it underlines the extent to which civilian evacuations are intertwined with other aspects of modern warfare. Provided battle lines remain relatively static or, if they move, move away from a country where evacuations are taking place, these population transfers can be realized without great difficulty. Some threat must be present or civilians will refuse to leave home; but if the war is going well, everyone sees evacuations as temporary and their inconveniences seem easier to bear. As soon as the battle turns, however, and threatens the homeland itself, evacuations become both more difficult to arrange and more critical. Given civilians’ importance to the total war effort, the older idea of letting the battle wash over them and move on no longer seems appropri-

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ate. Instead, non-combatants and resources such as livestock or industrial plants must be taken away from vulnerable zones. The tension between the increasing need to evacuate civilians and resources, and the growing impossibility of doing so, is a theme of this chapter. Preparations for the war’s final act began in France as soon as the Germans had gained control of the country. The military authorities assumed that any Allied reconquest of Europe would start with an amphibious landing, most likely on French soil, and so they fortified the Channel coast and removed civilians from sensitive zones. The case study of Cherbourg, above, describes the obligatory evacuation of nearly two-thirds of that city’s population, and similar measures were implemented elsewhere. At the same time, the Germans developed plans to respond to the expected invasion itself. In May 1941, authorities in the Isigny area of Calvados explained that evacuation orders would be given by the German military, to be carried out within 24 hours. At this time, they emphasized that, “In the case of an unforeseen enemy landing attempt, the general, compulsory evacuation [Rückführung] of the population of this coastal area to beyond the southern limits of the zone of operations is not foreseen.… Only … individual towns and neighbourhoods may [be cleared] for tactical reasons.”3 Confident in their ability to repel an Allied attack, the Germans foresaw only small-scale local evacuations. Rural Normandy, unlike the Ruhrgebiet, could provide adequate shelter for most of the coastal population during a small-scale attack.4 Subsequent local evacuations reduced the number of civilians in coastal areas and major port cities, and the Germans continued to advise civilians not to move unless so ordered. Soldiers were told that, “in the case of contravention of this prohibition, [you] are to make ruthless use of your weapon” against the population.5 At the same time, however, the Germans began to encourage the French to prepare emergency evacuation plans.6 Especially from the spring of 1943, the French authorities developed maps showing potential routes away from urban centers like Cherbourg, Caen, and Paris. Spreading out fan-like from the probable centre of attack, these routes (subject to German approval) led citizens along thoroughfares least likely to be used by troops. They were divided into segments with rest stops every 15–20 km (Figure 7.1).7 Proposed escape routes were not publicized for fear of alarming people, but nearby municipalities were informed of the numbers they should expect to accommodate. The authorities emphasized that, “No spontaneous exodus of the population will be tolerated.”8 In the spring of 1944, planning in France took on more serious overtones, especially in areas adjacent to Britain where a landing was expected. Pre-invasion bombing was extensive, and despite Allied efforts at precision, “resentment [grew] towards the Anglo-Americans who seemed more capable of bombing France than of liberating her.”9 In four raids on the Paris area in March and April, 1,113 were killed, while in late May, 10 large cities were attacked, leaving almost 6,000

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F .. Evacuation Plan for Greater Cherbourg (25 November 1943) “Evacuation of Greater Cherbourg: Diagram of Itineraries” [translation by author]. Source: AM Cherbourg, Boîte 2.

dead.10 The residents of Normandy, fearing the worst, “ask[ed] of the heavens that the attack take place anywhere other than at home.”11 In this context, helping bomb victims was a priority, and the Vichy government tried to exploit their situation to tie them closer to the regime. In March 1944, Marcel Déat, Collaborationist par excellence and editor-in-chief of L’Oeuvre, became head of a new Ministère du Travail et de la Solidarité Nationale (Ministry of Work and National Solidarity). This put him in charge of coordinating C.O.S.I., Red Cross, and Secours National programs, and he automatically became president of the Secours National.12 Existing president Pichat resigned in disgust and Secours National leaders lobbied the government to reverse Déat’s appointment and regain independence. They succeeded at the end of May, when General Duchêne replaced Déat. The episode underlined the political significance of war relief, as various factions within the government fought over who best represented civilians.13

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In February 1944, the Ministry of the Interior published a major circular that summarized and clarified pre-existing evacuation regulations.14 The government now stressed that housing priority should be given to those who had lost their homes or been evacuated because of the bombs, and a law published at the end of April gave préfets broad powers to seize and assign to bomb victims any disused or “under-used” residences. The legislation targeted little-used summerhouses and the spacious abodes of the rich—any home with more than one room per person, not counting washrooms or windowless servants’ quarters.15 Then, in May 1944, the French government began preparing two draft laws that specified what should happen if there were an attack. The first devolved emergency authority on préfets régionaux (regional prefects) to decide when the population should leave an endangered zone.16 Decisions of this kind had hitherto been the prerogative of the German authorities (if one asked the Germans), or the French government alone (if one asked the French). After the legislation, préfets régionaux who were cut off from Paris could disperse or evacuate independently the most sensitive part of the population.17 The second draft law underlined the more local character of French evacuations, compared to those of the Germans, stating that, “The accommodation of the population dispersed or evacuated, either voluntarily or by order of the authorities … takes place, in principle, within the administrative region to which the locality or sector that is being evacuated belongs.”18 This ran counter to the Germans’ preference for longer-distance evacuations, both at home and in occupied France. Neither draft law was well received by the Germans, whose opinion had to be solicited before legislation could be passed.19 Though a French note with the drafts stressed that they did not represent a major change in policy, the Germans insisted on 6 June that existing arrangements must be maintained. Coastal citizens must evacuate to designated reception zones in the interior, keeping rear areas open for troop movements and reducing the chances that a second evacuation would become necessary.20 By pursuing far-flung evacuations, the Germans were trying to maintain a system of distant reception areas that never really had existed in France, as we have seen. In the end, the French prevailed. A week after the Germans gave their view of the draft laws, French administrators responded that transportation in Normandy was now so limited that local evacuations were the only possibility, and it was essential that préfets régionaux be able to organize evacuations in emergencies. Eventually, the Germans permitted the laws to pass, but still tried to insist that distant reception areas be maintained. Finally, they agreed that these reception areas should be maintained “as far as possible” instead of “in principle.”21 This discussion of legislation, which took place as the Allies landed in Normandy, underlines the speed with which war overtook planning. Although evacuation efforts had to some extent always been reactive more than preemptive,

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local, improvised measures now replaced all semblance of centralized, organized schemes. The Allied invasion of Normandy began early on 6 June 1944, when British and US airborne troops landed on the Cotentin peninsula and along the Orne River to secure the eastern and western ends of the landing area. At the same time, nearly 200,000 seagoing craft, carrying soldiers, officers, and equipment, moved toward Norman beaches. Many initial objectives were taken quickly, and although the Allies did not advance as far as they had hoped the first day, they established a strong foothold on the coast, at a cost of less than 2,500 men.22 Thereafter, they focused on breaking out of the beachhead area and capturing Cherbourg and Caen. The former was a deep-water port, essential to the supply and augmentation of the Allied forces in France, the latter the biggest city of lower Normandy. Despite advance planning, the location of the bridgehead was not known until its establishment, and the invasion brought unexpected complications for civilians. The capital of Manche, for example, Saint-Lô, was heavily bombed just before the landing began. The raid killed hundreds of civilians, crippled the Feldkommandantur and the préfecture, and obliterated the files of the departmental Direction des Réfugiés.23 It was now impossible to determine the total number of evacuees, and difficult to provide for their needs, particularly because the Secours National’s clothing reserves had also been destroyed.24 At Cherbourg, plans foresaw civilian evacuations from the tip of the Cotentin peninsula toward the south of Manche, but the attacking Allies unexpectedly moved up the peninsula toward Cherbourg soon after the invasion began. It might have been best if civilians had simply stayed put, but the French government noted in late June that, “Events in Normandy have shown that the population [does] not stay in the bombarded cities, and for that matter [can] not stay: [the citizens] have fled by road, in lamentable conditions, subject to strafing, literally crushed by German vehicles, without means of transportation.”25 In the end, civilians dispersed as best they could. Even then, they were not safe. At a distance, it was difficult to tell whether a building or convoy contained soldiers, civilians, or both. Indeed, the battle elided the differences between combatants and civilians, enemies and friends. One Norman woman reported, for instance, that to avoid strafing, she had “spent two hours lying down in a ditch, under a Boche!”26 As armies fought for control of the difficult hedgerow terrain, residents of the usually tranquil countryside were caught in the middle. Eventually, even the Germans admitted that, “An evacuation in the old sense is … not possible at this time, it can only be a matter of dispersing the population of larger centres to the countryside, thus avoiding heavier losses.”27 At the end of June, the French reported that, “The principle of short-distance dispersion has therefore had to be adopted despite the reluctance of the German authori-

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ties.”28 Compromise and improvisation were the most appropriate responses to the situation. The fight for Cherbourg was over by 26 June, and when US soldiers entered the city, they estimated that only 5,000 civilians remained. However, people started returning immediately, and by the end of the first week, there were over 10,000 non-combatants.29 US troops began bringing civilians they found in the battle zone and local villages back to Cherbourg. In August, municipal authorities complained that Cherbourg residents were being forced to leave surrounding villages by the mayors, themselves under pressure to take in people from other parts of Normandy. The mayor of Domjean, near Tessy-sur-Vire, actually threatened Cherbourg residents with the withdrawal of their ration cards if they refused to leave his village. The new sous-préfet asked Manche’s préfet to step in and remind any mayor making such a threat that he had gone beyond his rights in liberated France.30 Elsewhere in the region, however, the battle continued and the situation grew critical. Serious problems had started in Rouen in late May, when the Allies began destroying bridges across the Seine. The bombing lit fires that devoured the historic downtown, and the local fire department had to be supplemented by additional firemen from Paris. Since 3 June, no organized evacuees’ convoys had been able to leave Rouen and small-scale local measures were the only possibility to save the population. The department of Eure took in civilians already on the left bank of the Seine (from suburbs like Sotteville-les-Rouen), while the area around Les Andelys, southeast of Rouen, was left open for the remaining population. To encourage a maximum number of families to leave the city, the préfet régional had closed all educational institutions.31 Still, circumstances were perhaps most difficult in Calvados, where there was intense fighting in and around Caen. Planners had assumed that the eastern parts of Calvados, close to the Seine, would be evacuated, and not the western parts, bordering on Manche.32 However, most Allied divisions came ashore between the rivers Vire and Orne, on the coast of Calvados itself. Civilians within 30 km of the front lines were encouraged to evacuate; those within 5 km strongly were counselled to leave home.33 In Calvados, as elsewhere, existing relief facilities were destroyed within the first days of the Allied attack. When it became difficult to maintain communications between Paris and Normandy, the Secours National set up an échelon avancé (advance post) near Alençon, Orne’s capital and a city unlikely to be in the direct line of fire.34 Assistance for the Norman population was organized from Alençon, with staff from the local administration, Déat’s new Ministry of Work and National Solidarity, S.I.P.E.G., the Red Cross, C.O.S.I., and the Secours National. Even the Germans assigned a liaison officer to Alençon, Colonel Kuentz.35 Between D-Day and mid July, the Secours National reported that 26,385 kg of food, 42,450 pieces of clothing, 260 layettes, 9,250 pairs of shoes, 1,180 packets of

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candles, and 2,470 kg of soap and detergent had been sent to Normandy. Much of it passed through Alençon, and despite the danger, 36 separate trips were made by truck to transport the goods.36 Caen and its 60,000 residents benefited from the assistance organized at Alençon. Just 7 km from the sea, Caen proved much harder to take than expected.37 The Allies encircled it from the north until the only escape route (for soldiers and civilians) was a narrow corridor leading south toward Falaise. Destruction within the city, caused not only by aerial, but also by naval bombardments from British ships offshore, was appalling. The historic university and remnants of William the Conqueror’s ducal castle were destroyed, while tremendous fires ravaged the downtown area. Homeless civilians gathered in the public buildings that remained—the abbey church of St. Etienne, the Lycée Malherbe (today’s city hall), and the Bon Sauveur hospital. These buildings became an ilôt sanitaire (medical block), where the old and frail, very young, sick or wounded awaited the end of the war. On 12 and 14 June respectively, Mme. Himbert, a nurse, and M. Lecornu, the former préfet of Calvados, crossed the battle-lines at great personal risk to inform the Allies that this area contained only civilians and should not be attacked. When Mme. Himbert made the trip across the lines, approximately 35,000 people were still living in Caen, 15,000 of whom had taken shelter in the safe area. Thanks to Himbert and Lecornu, the hospital, church, and school survived relatively unscathed, saving the thousands huddled within.38 Civilians who left Caen found refuge in the surrounding countryside.39 The French aid organizations based at Alençon established rest stops along a designated route from Caen through the towns of Bourguebus, Saint-Sylvain, and Trun, to the eastern, and then (when that area was full) the western part of Orne.40 Those able to walk were encouraged to do so; for the rest, there were relays of hippomobiles (any horse-drawn vehicle). In late June, the Direction des Réfugiés’ representative at Alençon, Saunier, reported with satisfaction that, “The reception at rest stops and rest areas has been good. Solidarity has come into play, ‘better than I had expected.’”41 Historian Dominique Veillon argues that this time of upheaval led to a return to traditional social forms, for “Spontaneously, a group form[ed] around a chief who [took] on the role of saviour. Solidarity and mutual assistance [were] the rule to assure the food supply.”42 With government services over-extended, civilians fell back upon their families, friends, and fellow-sufferers. Still, some villagers exhibited less fellow feeling than others. When one farmer refused to provide 1,000 litres of apple cider for displaced civilians, 2,000 litres were requisitioned as punishment.43 For the most part, however, local people understood that the evacuees were desperate, and in the absence of official papers, the government automatically considered everyone fleeing Caen to be needy, a generous policy that mitigated civilians’ plight.44

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Many who left Caen improvised shelter in the mines and quarries around the city, notably at Fleury-sur-Orne, Mondeville, and Maladrerie. Robert Mairie, a local miner, took refuge for two weeks in a disused iron mine, 40 metres underground at May-sur-Orne, just south of Caen.45 The mine had been out of service for years, but the iron gate sealing its entrance was opened for evacuees. They descended a tunnel of rough-hewn stone, the rails to haul ore still in place, until they reached damp, dark caverns with only straw to sleep on. Their movements were carefully watched by the Germans, but for a time they were able to go up to the local village for food. When more people began to occupy the mines, the military visited periodically to requisition men to dig manholes for cover along the roadsides. Finally, after not having been allowed to leave the mine at all for several days, civilians were ordered to clear out on 13 July. It was high time, Mairie recalled, for “We had been living for the past two weeks in an indescribable heap of countless people of all kinds … in a total lack of hygiene and a promiscuity that was often very distressing. We were soon invaded by vermin, fleas and lice of all sorts; their proliferation was incredible; we were all covered with them.”46 Unpleasant as they were, such experiences were rendered bearable by the fact that they were, for most people, short-lived. After a few perilous days on the road, most of those who fled Caen arrived at the homes of friends, relatives, or strangers willing to take them in. Some had to move again as fighting continued, but the authorities were able to report with satisfaction that there were no signs of an epidemic, and that, although food supplies were not extensive, at least no one was starving.47 Still, there were growing questions about the wisdom of encouraging so many people to leave Caen. Some civilians could not or did not want to leave—they either held positions that obliged them to stay, or feared for the safety of their property if they left. At the same time, both French and German authorities had doubts about ordering long-distance evacuations. The situation was so dangerous in Caen that formal evacuation orders were still given, but Saunier, at Alençon, concluded his first report in late June with the comment that, “It seems to me that … in this zone of operations, the policy presently pursued with regard to evacuation is a mistake.” He continued: In the midst of a war, in effect, under a sky that brings to mind, to the point of confusion, the sky over Flanders in May and June of 1940, the department of Calvados forms up and sends off columns of thousands of refugees (15,000 have arrived to date in Orne). Assisted and guided [encadrés] little or not at all, these people cover considerable distances on foot, and then in horse-drawn vehicles. At the end of their efforts, … they find: communities without bread, where medicines are lacking, where the living conditions, rigorous in summer, will be horrendous in winter. They will find a place to stay, … and get used to another corner of their

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Normandy, and then tomorrow the tide of battle will lead them, perhaps, to leave yet again.48

Raising the spectres of 1940 and a long-lived displacement, Saunier wondered whether the authorities in Calvados and Manche should not disperse people locally, rather than sending them to Orne. Saunier was uncertain the Germans would agree, but made his suggestion anyway, not realizing that both Germans and French in Paris were coming to a similar conclusion.49 As the battle for Caen reached its climax on 8 July, German officers gave one last order for civilians to leave, warning that, “that any person encountered in the evacuated areas after 14 July 1944 will be treated as a spy.”50 Perhaps fortunately, the evacuation order did not reach the Calvados préfet until noon on 9 July, as British and Canadian troops were entering Caen.51 Even without this final order, by the time the main part of the city fell, 40,000 of 60,000 residents had fled.52 German troops held the “little Stalingrad” of factory suburbs until late July, and the city remained under sporadic fire even until mid August, but the worst was over.53 The Allies consolidated their control over Manche and Calvados, and then continued east and south until free French forces entered Paris on 24 August. The city was taken with little fighting, sparing its citizens evacuation, and by mid September, nearly the whole of France had been reconquered. Coastal pockets of German resistance remained, but many citizens could return home.54 In late October 1944, the Entr’aide Française (successor to the Secours National) calculated that 1.2 million French bombed-out or evacuated during the war remained displaced. Of these, nearly a third were Normans.55 The fate of these individuals once the fighting was over is the subject of chapter eight. Following the battle eastward, what was the German response to the growing crisis in the Reich? The key features of the war’s end in France—compromise, improvisation, and popular self-reliance in the face of administrative breakdowns— were also evident in Germany, but while French evacuations turned out to be short-lived inconveniences linked to Liberation, in Germany, massive migrations were an unmistakable marker of defeat. Augmented Allied bombing was the clearest sign that battle had turned against the Reich. The loss of domestic air supremacy by late 1944 left large swathes of the country vulnerable to terrifying raids. Planes attacked not just big cities, but also smaller centers, and daytime raids became commonplace. Though these tended to be relatively precise, targeting industrial plants, transportation, and communications networks, they were hardly less dangerous for the civilian population than the ongoing nighttime area bombing raids. Moreover, the spectacular increase in the number of raids made it impossible for emergency and reconstruction crews to keep up with the damage.56

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Evacuations became increasingly common. Two trends can be observed from the early summer of 1944. First, the thorny problem of “wild returns” lessened in severity. Second, the state’s strict discipline and organization of evacuees relaxed. Neither of these changes resulted from conscious government policy; rather, they show how the evolving situation pushed the regime toward compromise. The problem of “wild returns” had come to a head at the end of 1943. By late January 1944, Hitler had decided that ration cards should not be denied evacuees who returned to their cities without permission. Although it was clear that coercive measures of this magnitude could not be used to keep people in the reception areas, the problem, and the accompanying attempts to force evacuees to stay where they were, persisted. Restrictions on train travel and the evacuees’ family allowance were used to exert pressure, but in June 1944, an official in Magdeburg commented that “wild returns” would be stopped really only by Allied “terror measures and air raid damage.”57 By November 1944, the Bavarian Minister of the Interior reported to his Reich counterpart that, “The problems that were earlier noted in the evacuees’ travelling [habits] have lessened—above all because of … the requirement that all trips be approved, and the increasing frequency of low-altitude air raids on trains.”58 The diminished flow of evacuees returning from the reception areas was probably the only benefit, from the regime’s point of view, of the near-continuous bombardments. Now, a new problem began to manifest itself. Ahead of the German armies retreating toward the heartland came thousands of civilians fleeing the Red Army in the East and the Anglo-Americans in the West. Documents from the Reich Propaganda Ministry suggest that 16 to 17 million civilians were on the move by February 1945.59 Some departures were well organized and timely; many others hasty and chaotic. Some rode the train and found relatives willing to take them in; for others, the journey involved many days’ trekking across country, often on foot, to find uncertain shelter with strangers. These new evacuations, that increasingly resembled mass flight, began as soon as the Allies neared the Reich proper. On 5 September 1944, Reich Chancellery head Martin Bormann announced that no evacuation could take place unless the Führer himself agreed it was necessary.60 All preemptive air raid evacuations, except those of expectant mothers, ceased, in order to make room for new border area evacuees. By mid October, territory within 5 km of the western front was supposed to be cleared of civilians, and the authorities prepared to empty another 10 km beyond that.61 Local party officials and the NSV transported and looked after displaced individuals, who went to designated reception areas unless relatives could take them in. Wherever possible, urbanites rode buses, trucks, and trains, while farmers grouped horse-drawn wagons together into “Treks.”62 These convoys travelled by night, if possible, taking precautions against air raids. Financially, new migrants were put on a par with existing air raid evacuees, receiving the evacuees’ family allowance if

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necessary.63 The instructions emphasized that evacuation orders were “generally to be limited to women, children, the elderly, sick, infirm, etc.”64 Theoretically, those who could not walk long distances—the sick, the elderly, and pregnant women— should leave first, followed by mothers and children under 15 years, other women, and finally, men. In practice, families or groups of families who knew each other tended to travel as a group, three or four generations together.65 However, nonenlisted adult men were often forbidden to leave evacuable communities. Gauleiter Grohé of köln-Aachen, for instance, announced that men 15 to 60 capable of working and not already in essential sectors would be requisitioned to work on the Reich’s western defenses.66 This underlined the fact that, like German-ordered evacuations along the Normandy coast, western border evacuations were not only about saving lives, but also about making the area more defensible. Nonessential civilians should leave, but anyone who could be useful was encouraged—indeed ordered—to stay. Another objective was to keep manpower and industrial plants from falling into enemy hands. Essential industries had been moved to safer areas from late 1942; now, rationing was lifted for everything but food and alcohol so that civilians in border zones could purchase (and carry away with them) remaining resources.67 Party officials were responsible for “shutting down or crippling essential services” and moving stockpiles of essential goods.68 Since manpower itself was a resource, not only German workers, but also prisoners and foreign workers were transferred toward the Reich’s centre.69 Orders in Bochum actually stated that, “even before the civilian population, all foreign workers, prisoners of war and prisoners in protective custody are to be evacuated by foot.”70 Concentration camps were emptied of prisoners who could work, and the authorities hastened to burn documents that might reveal their crimes. Foreign workers and concentration camp inmates clearly had no choice about whether or not to follow evacuation orders. When people did have a choice, however, many preferred to stay put, especially in the West, where they feared their invaders less. Political officer Flossdorff, recently transferred to Aachen, reported that especially in the mining towns Merkstein, Herzogenrath, and Bardenberg, faith in the Nazi Party, and morale more generally, were deeply eroded. Soldiers flooding back from the French campaign told people to stay put despite orders to evacuate and the conflicts of authority between the army and the party did little to shore up confidence. The party had told functionaries to leave the area, but local people intended to stay. They organized their own “police” to safeguard food stocks, and asked for the army’s protection. Officer Flosdorff reported in telegraphic style: “[p]opulation, especially workers, is standing in the streets, instead of digging trenches. … In Herzogenrath, local Party offices wrecked.” Discipline was breaking down, and Flosdorff told superiors that, “[d]isturbances [are] to be feared if the military does not step in to secure once again the work of the party.”71

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When soldiers would not play along, the SS was called in to control civilians. By 1 October 1944, SS command centers (Ortskommandanturen) had been established in rebellious towns, and Himmler sent a telegram to SS-Obergruppenführer Gutenberger in Düsseldorf, asking “Why have you not cleared these towns[?] Impose yourselves here.”72 At Alsdorf (near Aachen), 60 percent of the people refused to evacuate. Here, too, political leaders had departed prematurely, and the police was too weak to enforce evacuation orders.73 The party was losing the respect of, and consequently its power over, the population. Especially to citizens in the West, hasty war’s end evacuations seemed senseless. Doubts about evacuation were not new, however. In 1943, when evacuees returning home without permission became a serious problem, Martin Bormann had suggested that Germans’ unwillingness to stay in the reception areas was a sign of strength, not weakness. Bormann argued that people’s desire to return home should be encouraged, “because it is directed toward resistance and survival in the homeland and at the workplace, and guarantees for all the continued existence of the affected cities and ensures the progress of production.”74 Bormann believed preemptive evacuations should cease altogether, and that if limited measures did become necessary, long-distance transfers should be replaced by local “dispersion” of the population. Notwithstanding Bormann’s suggestions, long-distance evacuations continued, and government policy aimed at reinforcing the existing measures. Still, discussion of alternatives began, and by mid August 1944, new regulations made Auflockerung, or dispersion, of vulnerable urbanites to the suburbs an alternative to long-distance evacuation.75 Local dispersion did not require Reich-level permission—qualified civilians simply filed papers locally and moved. They had to show they had alternate accommodation and anyone with urban civil defense duties, or who qualified for full-fledged evacuation (a child or “unnecessary” adult), was forbidden to “disperse.” Dispersion targeted the working urban population and was initially intended as an alternative to, or extension of, the ongoing longdistance evacuation program.76 It was favoured partly because most of the truly “unnecessary” civilians had already left the cities. Remaining residents needed to stay within commuting distance of their jobs. Transportation was extremely tight and the demand for safer facilities for industry limited space for civilians.77 At least in some areas, the move toward local evacuations was simply belated bureaucratic acknowledgment of reality, for historian Jill Stephenson notes that in a mixed rural/urban region like Württemberg by early 1944, “a significant proportion—and perhaps as many as half of the 169,104 evacuees … were natives.”78 Finally, in early September 1944, as noted above, the Ministry of the Interior ordered that preemptive evacuations cease, “in consideration of the most urgent accommodation requirements for purposes vital to the war effort.”79 From the fall of 1944, it became difficult to speak of formal evacuation policies at all. The Reich government struggled to rescue civilians caught behind the rapidly mov-

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ing fronts and channel them toward the Reich heartland. Attempts to enforce evacuation rules failed and government authority broke down. In January 1945, SS-Oberführer Hildebrandt of Kevelaer (near Duisburg) admitted that, “If the evacuation action [here] failed, this was not the fault of the police task forces, but because of the overall situation.”80 By February, Allied forces were pressing the Germans hard all along the Rhine. In Cologne, the authorities reported that about 250,000 people would have to cross the river before it was too late.81 Clearly, this was impossible. Yet the situation was even more critical on the eastern side of the Reich, where problems had begun in the summer of 1944. An estimated 4 million civilians from the East had reached the Reich interior by late January 1945, but many more were on the way. General Keitel wrote desperately to army and civilian offices that all evacuations must cease, for the exodus had reached catastrophic proportions.82 In February 1945, Danzig, the western-most stronghold of East Prussia, contained an estimated 1.5 million local residents, plus another 400,000 in transit. Though 6,000 people left daily by boat and overland “Trek,” another 25,000 people streamed into Danzig each day. The NSV fed 300,000 daily. In the rest of East Prussia, an additional 300,000 people were waiting to leave, but the authorities were forced to admit this was “barely implementable.”83 There were neither enough ships nor vehicles to transport everyone, and a Propaganda Ministry representative, Imhoff, wrote glumly that, “Even the Führer’s own order that every military vehicle must take refugees would not suffice to get the flood of people out quickly enough.”84 Even if East Prussian civilians managed to leave, they would all pile up in Danzig, where there was a growing shortage of food, shelter, and medicine. Imhoff admitted that, “A normal progression of the evacuations is no longer possible; we can only improvise on the spur of the moment.”85 With better advance planning, however, much of this turmoil might have been avoided.86 Minutes of a meeting at the Reich Ministry of the Interior, July 1944, show that officials were already well aware of the situation in the East and could have begun taking precautions before it was too late. At the meeting, representatives of the army, the government, and the Nazi Party discussed various responses to the incipient crisis, but focused primarily on disguising its dimensions. General Wagner, for instance, commented with regard to the Riga area that, “On no account should the impression be given that evacuation measures are planned.”87 The central authorities’ refusal to acknowledge the gravity of the situation meant that many departures were put off until the hardest days of winter. In late January 1945, Imhoff noted that 50 cm of new snow had just fallen on the East.88 Official reports from this period remain factual in tone, but nonetheless reflect the desperate situation. When NSV head Hilgenfeldt visited Danzig in early February, he noted that the city was full of wounded soldiers who were so hungry they ate potato peels and begged for bread at NSV soup kitchens. Attempts to airlift food into Danzig used too much fuel, so the authorities frantically tried

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to ship in supplies as the army and the NSV struggled to feed the population.89 Here, as in France, the end of the war united soldiers and civilians in misery. At the same time, competition between military and civilian needs continued to create friction, especially over transportation. In Lower Silesia, for instance, 45 trains filled with evacuees were emptied of their passengers to clear the rails for coal and other military supplies.90 Problems were exacerbated by the fact that authorities elsewhere in the Reich failed to grasp the dimensions of the crisis. Gauleiter in the interior refused to take in additional evacuees, and a particularly severe case of administrative irresponsibility was reported from Schleswig-Holstein, where three freight trains carrying 3,500 Eastern evacuees arrived after weeks of travel. These trains had been shifted from Gau to Gau several times, as administrators refused to take responsibility for yet another trainload of desperate civilians. By the time they reached SchleswigHolstein, “The people were in a dreadful state. They were lousy and had illnesses, like scabies, etc. Also, those who had died during the long trip were still in the train.”91 There is an inescapable parallel between this description and descriptions of deportation trains bound for concentration camps. As in the case of soldiers and civilians, the differences between perpetrators, bystanders, and victims were partly elided at the war’s end. However, even for the most destitute citizens of the East, these circumstances were the exception, not the rule, and their regime’s own irresponsibility was to blame.92 As in the West, poor planning and party leaders’ selfish behaviour shook confidence in the National Socialist regime.93 In the West, civilians sometimes refused to follow evacuation orders, but in the East in 1944, fear of the Red Army made people only too eager to leave, even when no orders had been given.94 Since evacuations were frequently forbidden until it was too late, many died of exposure and lack of food, while others were killed by Russians, or other East Europeans.95 The threat to life and property may have hastened people’s departure, but leaving was still not easy. Some of those who fled left homes where their ancestors had lived for generations. When, by the terms of the peace, Germany’s eastern territory was parceled out among neighbouring nations, these people, joined by many who were forced from the region once the war was over, became the Heimatvertriebene, “those driven from home.” As Marion Gräfin Dönhoff remembered, “600 years of German history collapsed in the tangle of Russian tanks storming forward, German units flooding backward, fleeing women, children, old men and women.” On horseback, mirroring the journey of her ancestors who rode eastward in the fourteenth century, Dönhoff abandoned her patrimony during the frigid winter of 1945.96 For others, however, the eastern interlude had been brief. Some were settlers, encouraged by the regime to bring Nazi “civilization” to the borderlands.97 Others were evacuees, usually from Berlin or the Ruhrgebiet, shipped eastward to shelter from aerial bombardment. Now, caught in land battles, many felt they

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would have been better off at home. At least at first, these evacuees were supposed to have precedence over locals when it came time to abandon an area.98 Evacuees felt this was only right, but East Prussians complained about evacuated Berliners’ “indignant behaviour and attempts, with any possible excuse, to get around the limitations on travel.”99 Evacuated children in KLV camps were especially vulnerable. Far from their parents, these youngsters were at the mercy of the war and their teachers’ or leaders’ abilities to look after their needs. The situation of the Castrop-Rauxel Oberschule für Jungen was relatively typical. In the summer of 1943, pupils from this Ruhrgebiet school had been sent to Schneidemühl in Pommerania (now Piła, Poland). Evacuated were 335 boys, with 206 family members (likely mothers and younger siblings), 16 teachers, and later, six of these teachers’ wives. The group spent the winter in Schneidemühl, billeted uncomfortably with families who resented them and sharing a crowded school with local children.100 In the summer, the Gauleiter of Pomerania had them transferred to hotels at Ahlbeck, on the Baltic island of Usedom. Since this accommodation was not equipped for winter, they moved back to Schneidemühl in the fall, and many children left for home because Schneidemühl had just been declared a “Festung,” or fortress. Remaining older boys were put to work helping to construct fortifications, and by January, the local authorities had begun to suggest it might be time to move the whole group back to the Reich heartland. The Castrop-Rauxel children had been told they would be the first to leave, but on the night of 20–21 January 1945, when the rest of Schneidemühl’s citizens received orders to prepare for departure, the school group was not informed. Finally, on 23 January, the children boarded a train for Berlin, but were ordered off it at the last minute and transferred to a train for Rügen, another Baltic island. Some of the older children managed to stay on the Berlin train and went home from there. The rest arrived at Binz (Rügen) on 25 January, just a day before Russian tanks rolled up in front of Schneidemühl. In early March, the group moved again, this time to Stralsund, then to Bremen, and on to a small town nearby, called Rastede. By this point, only 62 of the original school children were still with the group, along with 21 adults and another 28 children. They were at Wahnbek, not far from Rastede, when it was overrun by the Western Allies. Finally, in July 1945, Allied military authorities gave the last of the group permission to return home to Castrop-Rauxel.101 If these evacuees’ journey seems harrowing, they were at the same time fairly fortunate. They escaped the Eastern front relatively unscathed and were able to return home within two and a half months of the end of the war. Many children and parents had been separated for two or three years by the time the war ended, with no news of each other since the winter of 1945. Some home cities, not to mention families, spent months trying to pinpoint the exact whereabouts of evacuated children.102 In 1948, the Land of Thuringia reported that it was

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still caring for 6,000 parentless children, some of whom were likely orphans, but the authorities could not confirm the deaths of their fathers and mothers.103 Evacuees were among the many Germans for whom the war did not really end in 1945.104 The last months of the conflict demonstrated that orderly evacuations easily broke down when fighting became critical. Established plans were replaced by stopgap measures, preemptive, long-distance evacuations ended, and local “dispersions” were substituted at the last minute. Compromise and improvisation marked the war’s end evacuations, but it is easy to exaggerate the degree to which evacuations ever had been organized perfectly and carried out. Even before 1944– 45, planned trains failed to materialize, billets in the reception areas were lacking, evacuees refused to leave, or to stay where they were accommodated. From the very outset, the best-laid plans of the Germans and French ran up against logistical problems, material shortages, and popular opposition. Popular disapproval of government measures increased as the war continued. In Germany, the authorities’ failure to organize timely civilian withdrawals shook people’s faith in the Nazi party. Each local party representative who cruised to safety in a requisitioned automobile helped undermine popular support for the regime. In the face of the authorities’ refusal to admit the depth of the problem and to protect civilians before it was too late, people looked after themselves. In the last months of the war, a strong degree of popular self-reliance tried to compensate for the general administrative disorder. The same feature marked the first months of the peace.

    

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“and every community believes it is a fortress unto itself.” —“Vergeßt die Evakuierten nicht,” Selbsthilfe, Nr. 7 (1950)1

T

    ’ final months kept evacuees pinned to their refuges, but as soon as the hostilities ended, they wanted nothing more than to reunite their families and rebuild their lives. More limited war damage meant French evacuees moved home more quickly than German, but housing and food shortages, as well as mangled transportation networks, were problematic in both countries. In Germany, destroying the vestiges of Nazism and caring for its victims took priority, and the division into four occupation zones further slowed evacuees’ return. In France, General de Gaulle’s postwar government punished egregious collaborators and used the myth that the rest of the population valiantly had resisted Nazi aggression to unite everyone else.2 If every French citizen was a victim of authoritarianism, however, the specific problems of evacuees might get lost in the shuffle. In both countries, evacuees tried to exploit a rift between official discourses about social justice, caring for war victims, and strengthening the family, and their own situation. They turned victimhood and vulnerability into powerful claims for basic rights.3 Evacuees developed three main arguments to press their case. First, they made claims about housing and residency rights. Many homes had been bombed or reassigned to other urbanites when evacuees left the city. Displaced families drew attention to the inappropriateness of their accommodation in the reception areas, hoping this might help them obtain a suitable dwelling at home. In Germany, where travel restrictions between occupation zones complicated repatriation, evacuees maintained that they had a Wohnrecht, or “right to reside,” in their cities of origin. French evacuees did not need to insist on their right to live in a specific city, but they struggled to regain access to their homes, if they still stood, or suitable alternate accommodation as it was rebuilt. After claims about housing and residency, a second set of arguments focused on evacuees’ status as war victims. The war had left many victims, and evacuees

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tried to convince policymakers that they deserved as much consideration as, for instance, concentration camp survivors, displaced Alsacians and Lorrainers, or German expellees from the East. Finally, evacuees and their supporters in both countries made claims based on family status, turning contemporary preoccupations with the health and welfare of families to their advantage. Fragmented by the war and far from home, evacuee families argued that they were especially vulnerable. Reunification and repatriation to the home city, they maintained, were essential for individuals’ moral reconstruction and that of the nation. Using all three categories of arguments, evacuees pressed their claims for assistance alongside Europe’s many other victims of war. At war’s end, child evacuees were the first to enjoy the authorities’ solicitude. Especially in Germany, many parents and children had been separated for two or three years and had had no news of one another for months. Some municipalities could not even pinpoint the whereabouts of evacuated children.4 For practical and sentimental reasons, children had to return home as soon as possible. Many had grown out of their clothes and had no garments for colder weather. Parents and the authorities feared a lack of discipline among young people, some of whom had had been without adult supervision for significant periods of time.5 Still, a quick return was difficult to arrange. In France, the préfet of the home department had to provide authorization before evacuated minors could be repatriated. Impatient parents had to wait before bringing children back to damaged cities, and foster families could not try (as some had) to get rid of billeted children prematurely.6 Strict regulation was primarily justified, however, by the shortage of housing. France counted at least four million totally bombed-out people at war’s end, and in Germany, the situation was much worse.7 At least 3.4 million German evacuees had not returned to their cities as late as 1947, mainly because there was no available housing.8 Authorities in Aachen, for instance, noted in the fall of 1945 that 55 percent of the 1939 population was trying to live in just 23 percent of the housing that had existed before the war.9 In 1952, Hamburg’s mayor told visiting evacuees that while the city had lost about 300,000 apartments due to Allied air raids, only 85,000 had been rebuilt thus far.10 In France, some 1.1 million houses had been destroyed during the war. The authorities calculated that 27 percent of accommodation in cities such as Caen and Le Havre was overcrowded, with an average of 1.45 people per room in the former, and 1.41 in the latter.11 Instead of proper apartments, whole families lived in single rooms, bunkers, shacks, and unsafe ruins.12 Yet, unless they could prove that appropriate accommodation and income were waiting for them in the city, evacuees were forbidden to move home. Children’s repatriation, specifically, was complicated by the lack of food in urban areas, shortages of functioning schools, daycares, and other institutions. In

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August 1945, the head of the Catholic welfare organization Caritas in Cologne emphasized that since there were no collective facilities available to house minors, only children whose parents could care for them at home should return to the city. Some parents were now living in apartments too small to accommodate children, others worked and could not look after their offspring during the day.13 In 1947, 1,041 mothers and 3,836 children were still waiting to return to Berlin. The city demanded proof that the breadwinner lived in Berlin, that housing was available, and that evacuees had been appropriately vaccinated before they could return.14 Evacuees were widely dispersed in Germany, and delays occasioned by material shortages were overlaid by disagreements between regional authorities, Allied occupiers, and even internationally. German evacuees in Austria were initially forbidden to leave the country, and a report from May 1946 noted that it was impossible to arrange official transports of evacuees out of Russian and Polish areas as well.15 Even within Western Germany, the occupation authorities of several zones had to agree before children and other evacuees were allowed to transit homeward. With time, however, permission to move became easier to obtain. The Allies grew eager to claim hotels where evacuees were accommodated, and landlords, too, were keen to see the end of evacuees. Often, there were financial considerations, for no expenses had been paid since March 1945 for many children whose departure had been sponsored by the Nazis.16 Once wartime evacuees’ allowances had been suspended, many families had no revenue in the reception areas, creating an additional burden for local welfare offices.17 More broadly, evacuees’ presence caused ongoing friction in towns and villages where they had taken refuge. Provisional billeting arrangements had gone on far longer than intended, and evacuees were seen as parasites by their “hosts.” As early as the fall of 1945, there were tensions between officials in evacuated cities, who saw no benefit in premature repatriations, and authorities in the reception areas, who sought to return people to their homes as soon as possible. In November 1946, the Bavarian government actually evicted 19 freight cars’ worth of evacuees, who were transported back to Essen in deplorable conditions. The passengers spent two full weeks on the train and then were forbidden to leave it because they did not have permission to reside in Essen.18 Eviction was a drastic way to get rid of evacuees, but in May 1946, a German official noted that, “according to the most recent reports, ration cards have been taken away from evacuees in the American-occupied zone of Württemberg who come from the French zone.… The same measure is being considered in the near future for evacuees from the British zone. Similar things are being reported from all parts of the French occupation zone.”19 Some occupation authorities seem to have believed that the Germans, and perhaps occupation authorities in other zones, were dragging their heels deliberately and delaying evacuees’ repatriation.

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Regardless of whether these suspicions were well-founded, it is telling to find the withdrawal of ration cards, a punishment the National Socialist government had used to discipline evacuees in 1943, now being used by the occupation forces to enforce their own particular policies.20 As we have seen, the same punishment reappeared in liberated France, where several mayors in Manche tried to deny ration cards to evacuees from Cherbourg who had outstayed their welcome.21 Taking away ration cards remained an easy way for governments to pressure citizens, and in a time of upheaval, the delivery of ration cards was one of very few reliable points of contact between government and population. In August 1944, the French decided that removing ration cards was inappropriate in France itself. In Germany, however, the Allied stance was harsher. Virtually chased out of their places of refuge, yet denied permission to return to their cities of origin, evacuees appealed to popular notions of justice. Based on their status as former residents of a particular city, they suggested they had a “right” to live there. In 1950, for instance, Selbsthilfe, the newsletter of the main lobby group for evacuees, the Zentralverband der Fliegergeschädigten und Währungsgeschädigten (Central Association for Bomb-Damaged and CurrencyDamaged Individuals), argued that it was unacceptable for “every community [to believe] it [was] a fortress unto itself.” Readers were encouraged to “Think of the fact that [evacuees] have retained their old right to live in the home city, and only the shortage of housing has thus far made their return impossible.”22 According to the Zentralverband, evacuees’ “right” to live in their home city should be recognized in housing allocations. To underline the point, in 1952, Hamburg mayor Dr. Nevermann asked a group of visiting evacuees, “What kind of insanity is it, that Hamburg has to take in refugees from the East, for whom we can not provide a home [Heimat] here, while our own citizens wait hopelessly in other Länder to return to their native city?”23 Nevermann argued that Hamburg evacuees’ claims for a “right to reside” were more compelling than the claims of others, notably German expellees. The concept of a “right” to live in a particular city resonated with contemporaries, for National Socialist responses to the longer-term housing shortage had included issuing a so-called “Wohnrechts-Anerkennung” (recognition of the right to reside). This document was supposed to guarantee evacuees the right to reclaim their urban apartments after the war, even if someone else had been billeted there in the meantime.24 After 1945, however, it was difficult to make Wohnrecht claims stick. Both the idea of a Wohnrecht, and the more emotional appeals the Zentralverband made to the Treuepflicht (duty of loyalty) of cities with regard to their evacuees, had limited success in ensuring repatriation.25 Some evacuees got tired of waiting and returned home without official permission. This carried forward the “wild returns” that had occurred during the war, and the new authorities, like those of the Third Reich, resented the disobedi-

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ence and disorganization it represented. To discourage such behaviour, German and Allied officials insisted that those who went home without permission would find no housing and little food in urban areas.26 Within the cities, too, former evacuees resorted to autonomous action. In 1947, a group of large families who were fed up with makeshift housing in bunkers laid claim to half-finished barracks in Krefeld. Some of these evacuees had walked all the way home from the Soviet Zone, and Martha Lothringer, a contemporary social worker, reported that the barracks were “without doors, without windows, without water- and toilet facilities [but] because the families refused to return to the bunkers, the city of Krefeld was forced to finish the apartments at least to a certain degree, equipping them with windows, doors, water and toilet facilities.”27 These families won perhaps partly because their many children made finding accommodation especially difficult, and official pro-natalist favouring of large families extended into the postwar era.28 Still, they had to embarrass the local government before they obtained a decent home. Since they had to both obtain permission to return home and find appropriate housing, German evacuees jumped two major hurdles before repatriation. In France, the process was more straightforward. Housing remained a serious problem, but evacuees’ “right to reside” in the home city was not questioned. French war damage was lesser, and evacuees did not have to compete with as many other displaced individuals for the government’s solicitude. Finally, in contrast to the limited and local measures implemented in the fragmented, defeated Reich, a detailed government plan to assist and repatriate evacuees could be put in place soon after France was liberated. The Resistance had been planning relief for displaced families since at least 1943, when it added “et Réfugiés” to the name of the Commissariat aux Prisonniers et Déportés, which became the postwar Ministère des Prisonniers, Déportés et Réfugiés (Ministry of Prisoners, Deportees and Refugees, or PGDR).29 After the Liberation, evacuees obtained help that included a departure allowance of 750 francs per person and free transportation if they were needy, as well as a free train trip for one member of each family to ensure appropriate accommodation was available in the hometown before other family members returned. Allowances were even more generous for those who had fled Alsace-Lorraine in 1939–40 or been expelled thereafter. The French were eager to underline that this area again belonged to France, so Alsacians and Lorrainers were given the 750-franc departure allowance and free transportation even if they were not needy and received two months’ extra refugees’ allocations if they had qualified for these allocations during the war.30 Not surprisingly, 1945 saw the greatest flood of homeward-bound French evacuees. In the first eight months of that year, 424,000 were repatriated. At the peak, in July, 92,000 former evacuees went home in one month. Around this time, there were an estimated 200,000 left to repatriate.31 Still, compared to Ger-

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many, there were fewer French evacuees and they returned to their home cities relatively quickly, something that went a good way toward ensuring a smooth reintegration into the community. Like Germany, France already had had a serious housing shortage before the war and the bombing only made it worse.32 About 25 percent of Cherbourg, for example, was destroyed. Those who had lost their homes or businesses during the war were known collectively as sinistrés. Evacuees who were also sinistrés may have found it easy to return to their home cities, but once there, they competed for housing with Allied troops, as well as fellow citizens who had used their homes while they were away.33 Although food remained citizens’ most important concern, housing was a close second, and public opinion was closely attuned more broadly to reconstruction efforts.34 Based on methods tested in the interwar period, policymakers consulted with organizations representing bombed-out individuals, tenants, and landlords. The government took a census of available accommodation and implemented measures to encourage landlords to repair their properties, exploit existing housing better, and put new apartments on the market. Undamaged communities demonstrated solidarity by “adopting” others with many sinistrés.35 Insisting on their right to return to home and obtain housing was one way evacuees in both France and Germany sought to make their voices heard. Another was by emphasizing their status as war victims. In Germany, the Allies made it clear that no “ordinary” German, regardless of circumstance, had priority for food and other aid. Instructions issued to French soldiers entering Germany in the spring of 1945 confirm that the Allied forces planned to look after their own nationals first, and others who had been persecuted by the Nazis. The bulk of the German population would be dealt with later, and the German authorities alone were responsible for the welfare of German citizens. The needs of German refugees and evacuees would be met after those of formerly persecuted individuals.36 German evacuees generally did not challenge this prioritization, but it soon became clear that within the group of non-persecuted Germans affected by war, there were further divisions: between those who had lost loved ones, those who had lost property, those who had been wounded physically, and those who now had no way to make a living. There were also, as the comments of Hamburg’s mayor cited above suggest, conflicts between those who had lost their homeland—expellees—and those who had merely lost their homes—evacuees. The expellees were a large, visible, and vocal population whose needs were obvious, and whom it was necessary, not least for political reasons, to treat with particular solicitude. Evacuees, for their part, had been displaced longer and were less immediately visible. They had had time to find alternate housing and to accumulate basic housewares. At least at first, their situation seemed less pressing than that of the expellees. During the war, they had been catered to because their morale was important, but now, many felt neglected by the authorities.

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In order to benefit from the meagre assistance available in the postwar years, evacuees insisted on their status as victims. Through interest groups like the Zentralverband, they fought for recognition and the same advantages as other war victims. Ironically, in postwar Germany, not being a victim put one at a disadvantage with regard to other social groups.37 The evacuees’ message was heard only slowly. In October 1949, representatives of the Bayernpartei asked the new West German parliament to recognize the equality of expellees, bomb-damaged individuals like evacuees, and demobilized soldiers “to control the division of the people into differently privileged classes and levels that threatens us.”38 Although coming up with one law to help everyone would have been one way to interpret this suggestion, in 1951, parliament began to discuss a specific law to assist evacuees. Although it was meant for evacuees alone, the argument that evacuees were like other victims of war underpinned the law. If other victims had laws to address their needs, then so should evacuees. On an early draft, a Düsseldorf official commented supportively that evacuees were “comparable to the refugees, the war-wounded, the political, religious, and racially persecuted.”39 His statement played up evacuees’ position while conveniently overlooking the differences between the perpetrators and victims of Nazi persecution. The Bundesevakuiertengesetz finally became law in July 1953, after laws to provide for other displaced groups had been passed. It was a separate piece of legislation for evacuees, but came into existence in the context of other similar laws and stated explicitly that the evacuees were legally equal to the German expellees from the East.40 The Bundesevakuiertengesetz did not, however, go so far as to suggest evacuees were equal to the victims of Nazi persecution. The reintegration of German evacuees, like other war victims, was important for broader reconstruction efforts, and in the incipient Cold War context, it was linked to the fight against Communism. In France, a 1949 report of the American-French Joint Committee on Economic Cooperation noted that the Communist Party had organized clubhouses throughout the country for anyone with a grievance, including “the victims of bombing.”41 The French government’s response to such threats was to treat evacuees with the same solicitude as any other type of war victim—whether a concentration camp survivor, a prisoner of war, or a returned forced labourer. In France, the differences between victim and perpetrator were smoothed over in ways that would have been unacceptable in occupied western Germany. Since the official line was that all of France had been victimized by Nazism and the war, it was not necessary to distinguish between categories of victim, except where their material needs were manifestly different. Former concentration camp inmates received health benefits and readjustment assistance that evacuees did not require, and, as we have seen, the evacuees of Alsace-Lorraine were treated generously because they had been “exiled” for the duration of the occupation and needed more help rebuilding their lives. On the whole, however, the French government preferred

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to view victims as equals. In 1945, representatives of the PGDR emphasized the importance of “avoiding that the refugees have the feeling of being neglected alongside the other individuals for which the Ministry is responsible [i.e., the deportees and prisoners].”42 Special “Bureaux Sociaux” were created to assist them, and in May 1945, a detailed booklet was published outlining benefits they could expect. The Entr’aide Française, heir to the Secours National, worked together with local and central governments to organize assistance.43 The French Resistencialist myth helped evacuees join the ranks of the hardest hit. In the Soviet zone of occupation in Germany, something similar to the levelling French Resistencialist myth developed through insistence on eastern Germany’s status as heir to the Communist resistance against Hitler. Like the French, authorities in the Soviet zone avoided hair-splitting between various groups, preferring to imply that everyone had been a victim of “fascist” oppression.44 According to historian Jeffrey Herf, however, a hierarchy nonetheless arose to distinguish Communist “fighters” against Nazism from Jewish “victims,” whose pensions were higher than those of other GDR citizens after 1949.45 The different ways that the Germans and the French interpreted their immediate past are further reflected in the postwar history of the NSV and Secours National, the organizations most closely linked to evacuees’ assistance in Germany and France during the war. Like other bodies associated with the Nazi Party, the NSV was dissolved in 1945. In Western Germany, a major restructuring of the social sector occurred, in which the government took on a larger role, while recognizing five nongovernmental charitable organizations.46 The Red Cross, Innere Mission, Caritas, Gemeinschaftshilfe, and Arbeiterwohlfahrt supplemented the state’s efforts, aiming to provide the same mixture of centralized aid, flexibility, and proximity to the people so favoured by the NSV. In Eastern Germany, changes were more far-reaching, and the state took over all provision of assistance, while charitable organizations ceased to exist.47 In France, changes at the end of the war were less clear-cut. C.O.S.I. was dissolved as it was viewed as too Collaborationist, but the Secours National persisted for a short time as a nongovernmental charitable umbrella organization. Its supporters argued that it could coordinate the dispersed energies of local charities, and its wartime experience would be useful in the reconstruction years. De Gaulle became the honorary president, taking over the role formerly held by Pétain, and the organization, first rechristened the Secours Social, then the Entr’aide Française, continued to provide aid, especially to sinistrés.48 By 1947–48, however, the climate had changed. Many problems stemming from the war were near resolution and an agency like the Entr’aide Française no longer seemed necessary. Arguments that it was more flexible and closer to the people than government bureaus, while coordinating relief more effectively than local charities, failed to convince the populace. Continuing suspicions about the Secours National’s wartime collaboration and persistent financial troubles discredited the Entr’aide Française, until it was disbanded in 1949.49

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In their attempts to gain recognition from governments and charities, evacuees supplemented arguments about housing rights and victim status with a third set of claims, related to the supposed vulnerability of families. There was a wide perception that war and dictatorship had softened people’s moral fibre, and society’s foundation stones, families, were thought to be especially at risk.50 Evacuees argued that no families were more endangered than theirs, separated for years and driven from the central locus of family life—the home. They used the broad postwar consensus about endangered families to pressure governments for repatriation. Evacuees’ arguments highlighted the ongoing effects of evacuation on family life, as well as the specific concerns of women with broken families—those “standing alone” in the first postwar years.51 For German adults, the speed of repatriation depended primarily on the availability of appropriate housing and employment. The combination of these two factors, however, led to complications for families. A husband and father, for instance, might find work in the city, but might not obtain suitable accommodation for his relatives. Commuting marriages became common, as did fears about their effects on family cohesion and public morals more broadly. In 1950, Düsseldorf ’s municipal representatives assured evacuees that 15 percent of new social housing in the city would be dedicated to ending commuting marriages, but a year later, the North-Rhine Westphalian government thought that there were still about 100,000 so-called Ehemänner auf Zeit (part-time husbands) in the region.52 “Part-time” husbands were one thing, but what about no husbands at all? Among the evacuees, some of the worst-off were widows, divorcees, and those who had never married. Since returning to the city depended on housing and employment, the rules favoured traditional families with a male breadwinner at a time when these were few and far between. The regulations of 1947 concerning returns to Berlin stated explicitly that evacuated mothers and children could return to the city only if “the bread-winner [Ernährer] for those intending to return resides in Berlin and receives ration cards … [and] accommodation is available in Berlin, thus new or supplementary accommodation will not be claimed.”53 These rules added that a woman whose previous dwelling had been destroyed or reassigned could only return to Berlin if she could provide evidence that relatives or friends would look after her. Given the tight housing conditions, this was virtually impossible. Contemporary observers were aware that the absence of a husband, or indeed of any man, greatly decreased female evacuees’ chances of repatriation. At least one Ruhrgebiet journalist, Hans Wörner, drew attention to the problem, writing of the “strange isolation of the women, who were driven to the villages … by the bomb war, and who still hang on there today.” These women were marooned in the countryside, Wörner added, “Because the husband did not return, because the pension is not enough for a move, let alone to make a contribution to the building costs of an apartment. [Such evacuees] are not taken in by their home city because their skills are not needed, and the children would have to live with

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them.”54 As Wörner pointed out, the absence of a husband not only made it harder to gain the right to return home, but women’s financial disadvantages also rendered the costs of moving home prohibitive. Homemakers found they did not have the marketable skills that might authorize a return, and with several children, it became impossible to find appropriate housing. Although sympathetic observers suggested it was far too simple to write marooned evacuees off as “incapable” (untüchtig) or “socially weak” (sozial Schwach), this was what tended to happen.55 Worse, “social” weakness was linked to moral weakness. During the war, adult women evacuees had been subjected to moral surveillance because their distance from spouses and vigilant networks of relatives and neighbours had seemed to favour lax morality.56 After 1945, concerns about moral health persisted, in part because they were a way to pressure the authorities to attend to evacuees who, in the early 1950s, still had not been able to return home. Contemporaries equated home and moral order, while mobility was linked to disorder and moral vulnerability.57 It followed that only renewed rootedness could solve evacuees’ problems and returning home became the prerequisite for building a new life. In the Westdeutsche Allgemeine newspaper in 1951, journalist Hans Wörner constructed a kind of parable about an evacuated war widow. After her husband had disappeared in Russia, this evacuee had become involved with a butcher from a neighbouring town, who had smuggled meat to her in the hungriest years. The butcher was married and made promises of divorce that he did not keep. When Wörner met the woman hitchhiking on the highway near Bückeburg, she had just broken with her lover and was headed home to the Ruhrgebiet. She hoped, she said, that her son would be able to get a job there, that they could find an apartment, and that they would be allowed to stay in the city to start anew.58 Wörner described the woman’s return home as a new beginning, in both material and moral terms. If her home city refused to provide her with housing, he implied, it denied her the chance of a better life. To a certain extent, arguments about families, home, and morality also were used as a pressure tactic in France, although here, the repatriation of evacuees happened more quickly, over shorter distances, and with less government intervention. Moral concerns were not as evident, perhaps because more men had spent the war at home, and fewer women were evacuated outside the family circle. In the postwar years, the moral outrage of the French was concentrated on the punishment of “horizontal collaboration” and fraternization with the enemy, sins to which French evacuees had not been demonstrably more prone than other women. Nevertheless, postwar French, like the Germans, were preoccupied by the family and the birthrate more generally.59 De Gaulle spoke of the “twelve million handsome babies” the nation needed to ensure future grandeur and broken families, whether due to the war or not, were blamed for all manner of contemporary

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ills.60 In the fight for postwar housing, larger families had priority, which meant that “single people, widowers and divorced individuals without children had the right to nothing but a single furnished room.”61 As in Germany, an equation was made between home and moral reconstruction, and contemporaries cited the dangers of long-term “dépaysement” and accompanying depressions, particularly for the elderly. Here too, returning home ended the war’s upheavals and became the prerequisite to beginning anew.62 After an era of large-scale mobility like World War II, it seems natural that people should seek to return home. It was as if, just before the automobile’s widespread availability again changed life entirely, Europeans sought to recapture an earlier time, when it was far from rare to live one’s entire life within a radius of 10 km from one’s birthplace. For many, evacuation had been a tremendous shock precisely because they had never before lived so far from home.63 It was difficult to let go of traditional equations between mobility and moral vulnerability, and home remained the symbol of social and familial order. Although most French citizens returned home shortly after the war’s end, a survey undertaken in West Germany in 1951 showed that there were still over 300,000 evacuees awaiting repatriation to their cities.64 Ten years later, the number had sunk to about 50,000, thanks to resettlement assistance provided by the Bundesevakuiertengesetz and to the economic miracle more generally.65 The experience of evacuation passed, like that of the bombing itself, into the shadows of war memory. Even if one does not fully accept W.G. Sebald’s conclusion that Allied air raids became a postwar literary taboo, it is clear that when Germans did write about bombing, it was described in limited or specific ways.66 Instead of emphasizing the trauma of the raids themselves, narratives about the bombing focused on reconstruction. The authors of what came to be known as “Trümmerliteratur” (literature of the rubble) sought to make the war serve as a foundation for rebirth following 1945.67 In this literature, and in the reconstruction propaganda of German cities, air raids lost their independent significance, becoming nothing more than the necessary precursors to rebuilding.68 In a similar way, evacuation was reinterpreted as the first step toward a new life, a lesson in self-reliance and maturity, skills that would serve evacuees well in the lean years after 1945. Former child evacuees idealized their experience, which came to resemble a prolonged stay at summer camp. Homesickness and anxiety were pushed into the background by adventure and activity, just as the leaders of KLV camps and oeuvres des petits réfugiés had hoped they would be. Children’s independence, living away from their parents for long periods of time, and even finding their way home alone at war’s end, became a necessary prelude to a new life.69 But how should evacuations be evaluated more broadly? At the end of the war, US analysts went to Germany to determine how successful Allied bombing had been and to look at German countermeasures, including evacuation. The result-

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ing survey contained a report, “The Effects of Strategic Bombing on German Morale,” that was based on postwar interviews with Germans in the Western zones of occupation, the wartime opinion reports of the Sicherheitsdienst, captured mail, and data from foreign workers in the Reich.70 The report’s compilers concluded that “evacuation acted as a morale depressant. Yet, … it must be stressed that, without evacuation, serious demoralization probably would have occurred much sooner than it did.”71 This comment, contradictory as it seems, effectively summarizes the nature of evacuation measures. Essential to maintain morale, evacuations at the same time compromised civilians’ support for the regime and their willingness to continue fighting the war. The discussion of various aspects of evacuation in the chapters above suggests a rather similar conclusion—that evacuations were necessary, yet constantly threatened to create more problems than they solved. In November 1943, the Sicherheitsdienst had written, with regard to the current troubles in evacuation, that “occurrences that have had such an impact on, and so disturbed, the general mood, [have] yet to be detected.”72 Balancing the positive and negative impacts of these measures was a significant—at times, the most significant—wartime domestic challenge faced by both the Nazi and Vichy regimes. Could some of the problems have been avoided? A certain amount of trouble was inevitable—it was hard to arrange the appropriate and timely transport of so many individuals, people were bound to become homesick, and no one enjoyed having to billet strangers for an unspecified period of time. But the study of evacuations in France, as well as in Germany, suggests that the German government’s controlling, restrictive evacuation policies exacerbated popular discontent. Government plans conflicted with deeply held notions about the family, not to mention parents’ rights to determine the living situation of their children. Homesick evacuees began returning to urban areas almost as soon as they had been evacuated, and the desire to shape one’s own family life, if necessary in opposition to the dictates of the state, emerged as a major source of anti-evacuation sentiment. At Witten in the Ruhrgebiet, evacuees’ frustration led to an open protest against the government’s attempts to prevent “wild returns” to the city. Since the desire for family unity was recognized by most of the population, and civilian morale was overwhelmingly important to the war effort, little could be done to quell evacuees’ opposition. Within four months of the Witten protest, the Reich’s highest authorities had decided it was unwise to crack down on evacuees and policies rather should be moderated to safeguard morale. Evacuations underline the rich potential of family issues as a basis for dissent and popular opposition in authoritarian regimes. In France, despite the fact that compulsory, German-ordered evacuations took place, there were fewer problems. The French favoured shorter, closer evacuations that contrasted with the German preference for long-distance measures. French evacuations took the family more into account, notably by allowing women and

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young children to stay with a husband and father if his job tied him to the city. This eliminated a major source of anti-evacuation feeling that was present in Germany, and the French authorities’ role as a buffer between their own population and the German forces helped make radical evacuations more palatable. Such support headed off public protest, for it made the French people feel that someone spoke for them in the evacuation policy arena. Notwithstanding these differences, French and German evacuations shared many features. In the face of aerial bombardments, prewar resistance to evacuations in Germany gave way to widespread population transfers similar to those the French had been planning from the outset. Children were the primary focus of these programs, along with mothers, and mothers-to-be. In France, there was perhaps more attention paid to the elderly, although older people were also evacuated in Germany, if only because they took up urban housing. Both countries used camps or colonies for school-age children, while younger children were billeted with foster parents. In both places, government relief efforts were seconded by para-governmental charitable organizations that boasted of their non-bureaucratic flexibility and proximity to the people. Just as important as the similarities and differences between French and German evacuations, however, are the many areas where measures overlapped and interacted. Since France was occupied by Germany for much of the war, French evacuations were deeply influenced by similar endeavours in Germany. At the same time, French evacuation experiences, especially those of the 1940 “exodus,” helped shape policies within the Reich. While France was occupied, German policymakers treated the two nations as parts of a unified “Fortress Europe.” National differences persisted and gave nuance to evacuations in each country, but the influence of each place on the other was far-reaching and significant. Sources about evacuation are a rich resource for understanding how the two nations interacted with regard to a “positive” measure, rather than the strictly oppressive ones usually analyzed. Still, civilian evacuations were far from purely positive. Jews, the mentally ill, and “asocials” were excluded from evacuation programs, which proceeded on the basis of selection. For each member of excluded groups who was not evacuated, someone else who belonged to the “national community” could be transported to safety. Moreover, oppressing some individuals directly assisted others to recover from aerial bombardment. The apartments of deported Jews were reassigned to bombed-out families, and psychiatric hospitals became housing for sick or wounded urbanites. Evacuations were marked indelibly by the regimes that sponsored them and exhibited all of their flaws. Civilian evacuations were thus an essential, yet inherently problematic response to the challenges of aerial bombardment. French and Germans generally avoided too close an examination of these issues in the immediate postwar years, seeing their wartime experiences, instead, as the first act in a reconstruction

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drama. The Allies, for their part, focused on the role of bombing and evacuations in defeating the Third Reich. Neither group looked further, for instance, to deplore the absence of certain groups from evacuation programs, or to examine how citizens’ responses to evacuations had influenced evacuation policy. The present work brings these and other issues to light, using civilian evacuations as a window into the relationship between Germany and France, the privileges of belonging to a “national community,” and the limits and powers of authoritarian states at war.

EEE

 NOTES TO INTRODUCTION 1. Gauleiter’s representative Overhues, speech to Robert Ley, 2 Oct. 1942 (BA: R 43 II/667). 2. Sicherheitsdienst—Bericht zu Inlandsfragen (henceforth SD-report), 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 3. The German population on the eve of war was 79.5 million, while that of France was 41.2 million. German evacuation figures are in BA: R 3102/44, French in AN: 41 AJ/347. German numbers may include individuals who fled toward the Reich heartland at the end of the war, while French figures may include some non-French citizens and count some people who were displaced for reasons other than evacuations. Statistics dealing with evacuation are incomplete, for many of the relevant documents are missing. There is no guarantee that surviving sources are accurate, for government offices were over-burdened by the end of the war and figures may have been manipulated to make evacuations appear a less serious problem than they were. Gerhard Kock and Michael Krause discuss the potential for statistical inaccuracy in detail. Gerhard Kock, “Der Führer sorgt für unser Kinder...”: Die Kinderlandverschickung im Zweiten Weltkrieg (Paderborn: Schöningh, 1997), 134–43; Michael Krause, Flucht vor dem Bombenkrieg: ‘Umquartierungen’ im Zweiten Weltkrieg und die Wiedereingliederung der Evakuierten in Deutschland, 1943–1963 (Düsseldorf: Droste, 1997), 174–84. 4. Peter Fritzsche, A Nation of Fliers: German Aviation and the Popular Imagination (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992); Peter Fritzsche, “Machine Dreams: Air-mindedness and the Reinvention of Germany,” American Historical Review 98, no. June (1993): 685–709. 5. Article “UK,” in The Oxford Companion to World War Two, ed. I.C.B. Dear (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 886, table 2; Eddy Florentin, Quand les Alliés bombardaient la France: 1940–45 (Paris: Librarie Académique Perrin, 1997), 446; United States, “The Effects of Strategic Bombing on German Morale (European Report #64b),” in The United States Strategic Bombing Survey (New York: Garland Publishing, 1976), 7. Bombing also wounded many civilians—as many as 800,000 in Germany alone. Volker R. Berghahn, Europe in the Era of Two World Wars: From Militarism and Genocide to Civil Society, 1900–1950 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006), 130. 6. Heinz-Gerhard Haupt and Jürgen Kocka, Geschichte und Vergleich: Ansätze und Ergebnisse international vergleichender Geschichtsschreibung (Frankfurt am Main: Campus, 1996), 10; Hartmut Kaelble, “Die Debatte über Vergleich und Transfer und was jetzt?,” http://hsozkult.geschichte.hu-berlin.de/forum/id=574&type=diskussionen; Jürgen Kocka, “Comparison and Beyond,” History and Theory 42, no. Feb. (2003): 39–44.

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7. Victoria de Grazia, How Fascism Ruled Women: Italy, 1922–1945 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992), 113–14. 8. Danielle Tartakowsky has identified 753 demonstrations in wartime France, of which 253 were the result of food-based grievances. Occasional demonstrations against Allied air raids took place, but they were sponsored by Collaborationist organizations and not directed against evacuations specifically. Danielle Tartakowsky, “Manifester pour le pain, novembre 1940–octobre 1947,” in Le temps des restrictions en France (1939–1949), ed. Dominique Veillon and Jean-Marie Flonneau, Les cahiers de l’Institut d’histoire du temps présent, cahiers nos 32-33 (Paris: l’Institut d’Histoire du Temps Présent, 1996), 465, 477. 9. On French and German social policies, see Heinz-Gerhard Haupt, “Bemerkung zum Vergleich staatlicher Sozialpolitik in Deutschland und Frankreich (1880–1920),” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 22 (1996): 299–310; and Hartmut Kaelble, Nachbarn am Rhein: Entfremdung und Annährung der französischen und deutschen Gesellschaft seit 1880 (Munich: C.H. Beck, 1991). 10. See chapter 6 and Götz Aly, Hitlers Volksstaat: Raub, Rassenkrieg und nationaler Sozialismus (Frankfurt am Main: S. Fisher, 2005); Franz Bajohr, ‘Aryanisation’ in Hamburg: The Economic Exclusion of Jews and the Confiscation of their Property in Nazi Germany, trans. George Wilkes (New York: Berghahn Books, 2002); Omer Bartov, Murder in Our Midst: The Holocaust, Industrial Killing, and Representation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996); Raul Hilberg, Sonderzüge nach Auschwitz, vol. 18, Dokumente zur Eisenbahngeschichte (Mainz: Dumjahn, 1981); Annette Wieviorka and Floriane Azoulay, Le pillage des appartements et son indemnisation, Mission d’étude sur la spoliation des juifs de France (Paris: La documentation française, 2000). 11. Richard M. Titmuss, Problems of Social Policy (London: London and Nendeln, 1976). 12. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung; Krause, Flucht; Gregory Frederick Schroeder, “The Long Road Home: German Evacuees of the Second World War, Postwar Victim Identities, and Social Policy in the Federal Republic” (Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 1997); Gregory Frederick Schroeder, “Ties of Urban Heimat: West German Cities and Their Wartime Evacuees in the 1950s,” German Studies Review 27, no. 1 (2004). See also Robert G. Moeller, War Stories: The Search for a Usable Past in the Federal Republic of Germany (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001); Susanne Vees-Gulani, Trauma and Guilt: Literature of Wartime Bombing in Germany (New York: W. de Gruyter, 2003). 13. The one existing comparative work, limited by its focus on only two cities, is Carsten Kressel, Evakuierungen und Erweiterte Kinderlandverschickung im Vergleich: Das Beispiel der Städte Liverpool und Hamburg, vol. 715, Europäische Hochschulschriften: Reihe 3, Geschichte und ihre Hilfswissenschaften (Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 1996). Other studies typically depict, with strong nostalgic elements, the children’s evacuation programs alone: Gerhard Dabel, KLV: Die erweiterte Kinder-Land-Verschickung: KLVLager 1940–1945 (Freiburg: Schillinger, 1981); Clauss Larass, Der Zug der Kinder: KLVDie Evakuierung 5 Millionen deutscher Kinder im 2. Weltkrieg (Munich: Meyster, 1983); Gerhard E. Sollbach, “‘Mütter—schafft eure Kinder fort!’: Kinderlandverschickung im Ruhrgebiet während des Zweiten Weltkriegs,” Geschichte im Westen 13 (1998): 135–66. 14. See Laird Boswell, “Franco-Alsatian Conflict and the Crisis of National Sentiment during the Phoney War,” Journal of Modern History 71 (1999): 552–84; Nicole Dom-

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browski, “Beyond the Battlefield: The French Civilian Exodus of May–June 1940,” (Ph. D. diss., New York University, 1995); Marcel Neu, L’évacuation en Lorraine 1939 (Sarreguemines: Pierron, 1989); Dominique Veillon, Vivre et Survivre en France 1939–1947 (Paris: Editions Payot & Rivages, 1995); Jean Vidalenc, L’Exode de Mai-Juin 1940 (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1957); Richard Vinen, The Unfree French: Life Under the Occupation (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006); as well as local studies like Michel Boivin et al., Villes normandes sous les bombes (juin 1944) (Caen: Presses Universitaires de Caen, 1994) and Valérie Laisney Launay, L’exode des populations bas-normandes au cours de l’été 1944 (Caen: Centre de Recherche d’Histoire Quantitative Second Guerre mondiale, 2005). 15. On children in wartime, see the KLV literature cited above, and Lynn H. Nicholas, Cruel World: The Children of Europe in the Nazi Web (New York, NY: Knopf, 2005); Nicholas Stargardt, Witnesses of War: Children’s Lives Under the Nazis (London: Jonathan Cape, 2005). For France, see Giles Ragache, Les Enfants de la Guerre: Vivre, survivre, lire et jouer en France: 1939–1949 (Paris: Librarie Académique Perrin, 1997); Jill Sturdee, “War and Victimization through Children’s Eyes: Caen—Occupation and Liberation,” in The Liberation of France: Image and Event, ed. H.R. Kedward and Nancy Wood (Oxford: Berg, 1995), 297–308. On rural life in wartime France, see H.R. Kedward, “Rural France and Resistance,” in France at War: Vichy and the Historians, ed. Sarah Fishman et al. (Oxford: Berg, 2000). On Germany, Gustavo Corni, Hitler and the Peasants: Agrarian Policy of the Third Reich, 1930–1939 (New York: Berg, 1990); Clifford Lovin, R. Walther Darré, Nazi Agricultural Policy, and Preparation for War (Edmonton, Alberta: University of Alberta Press, 1995); Jill Stephenson, Hitler’s Home Front: Württemberg under the Nazis (London: Continuum, 2006). 16. Debate has been stimulated by a number of factors, including the publication of W.G. Sebald, Luftkrieg und Literatur: Mit einem Essay zu Alfred Andersch (Munich: Carl Hanser, 1999); Jörg Friedrich, Der Brand: Deutschland im Bombenkrieg 1940–1945 (Munich: Ullstein, 2002); Günter Grass, Im Krebsgang (Göttingen: Steidl, 2002). Discussions of the controversy include Lothar Kettenacker, ed., Ein Volk von Opfern? Die neue Debatte um den Bombenkrieg 1940–45 (Berlin: Rowohlt, 2003); Charles S. Maier, “Targeting the City: Debates and Silences about the Aerial Bombing of World War II,” International Review of the Red Cross 87, no. 859 (2005): 429–44; Mary Nolan, “Germans as Victims During the Second World War: Air Wars, Memory Wars,” Central European History 38, no. 1 (2005). Elizabeth Heineman points out that women’s role, and gender as a marker of victimhood, virtually have been ignored in recent debates, though they were central to the earlier “Historikerinnenstreit.” Elizabeth Heineman, “Gender, Sexuality and Coming to Terms with the Nazi Past,” Central European History 38, no. 1 (2005): 59–60. 17. Marlis Steinert, Hitler’s War and the Germans: Public Mood and Attitude during the Second World War, trans. Thomas E.J. de Witt (Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 1977). 18. Ian Kershaw, The Hitler Myth: Image and Reality in the Third Reich (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987); Robert Gellately, Backing Hitler: Consent and Coercion in Nazi Germany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001); Daniel Goldhagen, Hitler’s Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust (New York: Knopf, 1996). Overviews of current historiography that address these issues are Jean-Marc Dreyfus, “Did

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Hitler buy the Germans?,” Vingtième Siècle 93 (2007): 93–99; Neil Gregor, “Politics, Culture and Political Culture: Recent Work on the Third Reich and its Aftermath,” Journal of Modern History 78, no. 3 (2006): 643–83; Jeffrey Herf, “The Rise of National Socialism in Germany,” Contemporary European History 10, no. 3 (2001): 513–22. 19. Contemporaries used NSV for Nationalsozialistische Volkswohlfahrt, but the Secours National was referred to by its full name, a usage I have followed. On the NSV, see Herwart Vorländer, Die NSV: Darstellung und Dokumentation einer nationalsozialistichen Organisation, vol. 35, Schriften des Bundesarchivs (Boppard am Rhein: Harald Boldt, 1988); Armin Nolzen, “‘Sozialismus der Tat’? Die Nationalsozialistische Volkswohlfahrt (NSV) und der alliierten Luftkrieg gegen das deutsche Reich,” in Deutschland im Luftkrieg: Geschichte und Erinnerung, ed. Dietmar Suß (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2007). On wartime charitable organizations in France, see Jean-Pierre Le Crom, “De la philanthropie à l’action humanitaire,” in La protection sociale sous le régime de Vichy, ed. Philippe-Jean Hesse and Jean-Pierre Le Crom (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2001); Jan Kulok, “‘Trait d’Union’: The History of the French Relief Organization Secours National/ Entr’aide Française under the Third Republic, the Vichy regime and the Early Fourth Republic, 1939–49,” (D. Phil. diss., Oxford University, 2003). 20. Ian Kershaw, Popular Opinion and Political Dissent in the Third Reich: Bavaria 1933–1945 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1983); Nathan Stoltzfus, Resistance of the Heart: Intermarriage and the Rosenstrasse Protest in Nazi Germany (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1996); Antonia Leugers, ed., Berlin, Rosenstraße 2–4: Protest in der NS-Diktatur: Neue Forschungen zum Frauenprotest in der Rosenstraße 1943 (Annweiler: Plöger, 2005). 21. Ian Kershaw, The Nazi Dictatorship: Problems and Perspectives of Interpretation, 3rd ed. (New York: Routledge, 1993), 170. 22. Kershaw reviews debates about Resistenz in Kershaw, Nazi Dictatorship, ch. 8. See also Martin Broszat, “Nach Hitler: der schwierigen Umgang mit unseren Geschichte,” ed. Hermann Graml and Klaus-Dietmar Henke (Munich: R. Oldenburg, 1986); Christof Dipper, “Schwierigkeiten mit der Resistenz,” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 22 (1996): 409– 16; Jill Stephenson, “Resistance and the Third Reich,” Journal of Contemporary History 36, no. 3 (2001); Nathan Stoltzfus, “‘Third Reich History as if the People Mattered’: eine Entgegnung auf Christof Dipper,” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 26, no. 4 (2000): 672–84. An older, regionally relevant work is Detlev Peukert, Ruhrarbeiter gegen den Faschismus: Dokumentation über Widerstand im Ruhrgebiet 1933–1945 (Frankfurt am Main: Röderberg, 1976), 310. 23. Adolphe Henaff’s work on evacuees from Caen treats any anti-evacuation activity as resistance. Adolphe Henaff, Saint Sylvain et l’exode des Caennais en 1944 ([France]: Adolphe Henaff, 1994). 24. A rare exception to this rule is Lynne Taylor, Between Resistance and Collaboration: Popular Protest in Northern France, 1940–45 (New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press, 2000). On French resistance historiography, see Julian Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 13, 16–20, as well as Michel Boivin and Jean Quellien, “La Résistance en Basse-Normandie: Définition et Sociologie,” in La Résistance et les Français: enjeux stratégiques et environnement social, ed. Jacqueline Sainclivier and Christian Bougeard (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 1995), 163–74; Laurent

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Douzou, “La Résistance, une affaire d’hommes?,” in Identités féminines et violences politiques (1936–1946), ed. François Rouquet and Danièle Voldman, Les Cahiers de l’IHTP (Paris: Institut d’Histoire du Temps Présent, 1995), 11–24; Kedward, “Rural France,” 125–27; François Marcot, “Les Paysans et la Résistance: problèmes d’une approche sociologique,” in La Résistance et les Français: enjeux stratégiques et environnement social, ed. Jacqueline Sainclivier and Christian Bougeard (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 1995), 245–55. Regarding postwar interpretations of the resistance, see Henry Rousso, The Vichy Syndrome: History and Memory in France since 1944, trans. Arthur Goldhammer (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991). Debates about protest and resistance in Germany and France have gained impetus from studies of women’s role in wartime and under authoritarian regimes. See especially de Grazia, Fascism; Belinda J. Davis, Home Fires Burning: Food, Politics, and Everyday Life in World War I Berlin (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2000); Stoltzfus, Resistance; Danielle Tartakowsky, Les manifestations de rue en France 1918–1968 (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1997). 25. Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order, 1940–1944 (New York: Knopf, 1972). The extensive scholarship on Vichy is well represented in Jean-Pierre Azéma and François Bédarida, eds., Le Régime de Vichy et les Français (Paris: Arthème Fayard, 1992) and Sarah Fishman et al., eds., France at War: Vichy and the Historians (Oxford: Berg, 2000). On public opinion during the occupation, see Pierre Laborie, L’opinion française sous Vichy: Les Français et la crise d’identité nationale 1936–1944 (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1990). With regard to women, see: Célia Bertin, Femmes sous l’Occupation (Paris: Stock, 1993); Hanna Diamond, Women and the Second World War in France, 1939–48: Choices and Constraints (Harlow, Essex: Pearson Education, Ltd., 1999); Sarah Fishman, We Will Wait: Wives of French Prisoners of War, 1940–1945 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991); Miranda Pollard, Reign of Virtue: Mobilizing Gender in Vichy France (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998); Veillon, Vivre. Richard Vinen’s work highlights those who lived outside the mainstream of occupation life, but although there is a chapter on victims of the “exode,” civilians displaced later do not figure in the account. Vinen, Unfree. 26. Philippe Burrin, “Writing the History of Military Occupations,” in France at War: Vichy and the Historians (Oxford: Berg, 2000), 77–78. Julian Jackson’s work, for example, is a “history of France during the German occupation,” not a history of the German occupation of France. Jackson, Dark Years, vii. Eberhard Jäckel noted in 1966 that Germany’s policies toward France had not been given nearly as much scholarly attention as Vichy’s internal policies and this is still true. Eberhard Jäckel, Frankreich in Hitlers Europa: die deutsche Frankreichpolitik im Zweiten Weltkrieg (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1966). An exception to this rule is Wolfgang Geiger, L’image de la France dans l’Allemagne nazie 1933–1945 (Rennes: Presse Universitaires de Rennes, 1999). 27. Robert Gildea takes this kind of approach, emphasizing Franco-German interaction and viewing occupation as an ongoing process, rather than as a static circumstance. Robert Gildea, Marianne in Chains: In Search of the German Occupation 1940–45 (London: MacMillan, 2002). Cf. Richard Cobb, French and Germans, Germans and French (Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 1983). 28. Krause, Flucht, 41. The words räumen (to clear), freimachen (to clear), and rückführen (to lead back, return, repatriate) were also used. These terms usually referred to the clearing of border zones. Like umquartieren, they were associated with military vocabulary

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and emphasized the orderly aspects of the measures. Cf. Der Sprach-Brockhaus: Deutsches Bildwörterbuch für jedermann, 4th ed. (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1944). Rebecca Manley discusses equally weighted terminology in the Soviet case in “The Perils of Displacement: The Soviet Evacuee between Refugee and Deportee,” Contemporary European History 16, no. 4 (2007): 496ff. 29. LK-Mitteilung Nr. 4, 29 June 1943 (BA: R 55/447). Though another warning was issued in late August 1943, the term was still used thereafter. Cornelia Schmitz-Berning, Vokabular des Nationalsozialismus (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1998), s.v. “evakuieren.” 30. Schmitz-Berning, s.v. “evakuieren.”

NOTES TO CHAPTER 1 1. Giulio Douhet, The Command of the Air, trans. Dino Ferrari, 2nd ed. (New York: Coward-McCann, 1942), 9–10. Douhet’s work was published in Italian as Dominio dell’Aria in 1921. It appeared in English the same year, while French and German editions followed in the early 1930’s. Quotations are from the English version. 2. On interwar fears about total war and airborne death, especially in Britain, see Ian Patterson, Guernica and Total War (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007). 3. Brian Bond, War and Society in Europe, 1870–1970, 2nd ed. (Kingston, Ontario: Queen’s University Press, 1998), 145; and Augustin M. Prentiss, Civil Air Defense: A Treatise on the Protection of the Civil Population against Air Attack (New York: McGrawHill, 1941). 4. See Prentiss, Civil Air Defense; M.W. Royse, Aerial Bombardment and the International Regulation of Warfare (New York: Harold Vinal, 1928); Bond, War and Society; Erich Hampe, Der zivile Luftschutz im Zweiten Weltkrieg: Dokumentation und Erfahrungsberichte über Aufbau und Einsatz (Frankfurt am Main: Bernard & Graefe, 1963), 9–11; Maier, “Targeting,” 429–444. A relevant but polemical account is Maximilian Czesany, Europa im Bombenkrieg, 1939–45 (Graz: Leopold Stocker Verlag, 1998). 5. Alfred Giesler, “Tarnung, Verdunkelung, Scheinanlagen und die Räumung großer Städte bei Luftangriffsgefahr,” Gasschutz und Luftschutz 2, no. 1 (1932): 4–6. Giesler spoke and published on aerial defense throughout the 1930s and, from late 1940, headed a Ministry of Justice committee on aerial defense legislation (BA: R 3001/2306). 6. Giesler, “Tarnung,” 6. 7. Contemporaries traced this term (überflüssiger Esser) to French military literature about removing noncombatants from besieged fortresses. Nagel, “Zur Frage der Räumung großer Städte bei Luftangriffsgefahr,” Gasschutz und Luftschutz 2, no. 10 (1932): 222; Nagel, “Das Räumungsproblem im zivilen Luftschutz: Das Räumungsproblem in der Kriegsgeschichte,” Gasschutz und Luftschutz 5, no. 5 (1935): 116; and Grimme, “Die Räumung als Luftschutzmaßnahme,” Gasschutz und Luftschutz 7, no. 3 (1937): 65. 8. Giesler, “Tarnung,” 6; Fritzsche, Nation of Fliers, 207. 9. Paul Vauthier, Le danger aérien et l’avenir du pays (Paris: Berger-Levreault, 1930), 151–52. 10. Since policymakers assumed panic would follow an air attack, the first evacuation plans were aimed at crowd control. On theories about the fragility of the social order and air raid preparedness, see Fritzsche, “Machine Dreams,” 689–90; Titmuss, Problems, 23.

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11. Vauthier borrowed this analogy from Douhet in Revista Artiglieria e Genio (April 1929). Vauthier, Danger, 152. 12. Vauthier, Danger, 153–54. 13. The culminating World War I legislation on displaced civilians, a Ministry of the Interior circular dated 15 February 1918 was cited by authorities who were developing new regulations up to 1939 and beyond (AN: F 23/220). Vidalenc, L’Exode, 13–14. 14. See chapter 2. 15. Between February and September of 1918, about 700 bombs were dropped on Paris. In Dunkirk, bombings and evacuations ended night shifts at the docks, forced the removal of warships from port on clear nights, and reduced aircraft mechanics’ productivity at the central aviation depot by some 50 percent. British report cited by Hans Ritter, Der Luftkrieg (Berlin: K.F. Koehler, 1926), 147, 150–51. Cf. Susan R. Grayzel, “‘The Souls of Soldiers’: Civilians Under Fire in First World War France,” Journal of Modern History 78, no. 3 (2006): 588–622; Laura Lee Downs, Childhood in the Promised Land: Working-class Movements and the Colonies de Vacances in France, 1880–1960 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2002), 137; Nagel, “Das Räumungsproblem im zivilen Luftschutz: Das Räumungsproblem in der Kriegsgeschichte (Schluß),” Gasschutz und Luftschutz 5, no. 6 (1935): 147; J.M. Winter, The Experience of World War I (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), 169. 16. On war paranoia in 1930s France, see Eugen Weber, The Hollow Years: France in the 1930s (New York: W. W. Norton, 1994), ch. 9. 17. Eggebrecht, “Räumungsfragen im Luftschutz,” presentation at a meeting regarding evacuation at Münster regional aviation headquarters (Luftgaukommando), 3 April 1935 (HstAD: BR 1131–170). 18. Nagel, “Räumungsproblem in Kriegsgeschichte (Schluß),” 143. 19. Karlsruhe saw its first raid in 1915 and in 1918 there were ten in total (Stadtgeschichte Karlsruhe exhibit at the Stadtmuseum, Karlsruhe, January 1999). See also Hampe, Zivile Luftschutz, 3–8. 20. Fritzsche, “Machine Dreams,” 689–90; Titmuss, Problems, 23. 21. These organizations included Deutscher Frauen-Luftschutzdienst (German Women’s Air Protection Service), Deutsche Luftschutzliga (German Air Protection League) and Deutscher Luftschutz e.V. (German Air Protection Association). Hampe, Zivile Luftschutz, 12. 22. Hampe, Zivile Luftschutz, 49. 23. See Fritzsche, Nation of Fliers, ch. 5, and Fritzsche, “Machine Dreams,” 685–709; Eugene M. Emme, “The Genesis of Nazi Luftpolitik: 1933–1935,” Air Power Historian 6, no. 1 (1959): 11. 24. Göring argued in May 1933 that air-mindedness “should awaken … the moral powers that excite people to work and sacrifice. It should … create the moral preconditions without which a people is not able to bear a modern air attack” (HstAD, BR 1311/132). 25. Fritzsche, “Machine Dreams,” 705. 26. Die Sirene 3 (first Feb. issue), 1935. 27. The preamble to Reich Finance Ministry regulations about civil defense spending, 10 October 1933, stated, “The Versailles Treaty forbids Germany to maintain military air planes … as a result, an even greater importance is attached to civil defense” (HstAD: BR

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1311/132). In France, Paluel-Marmont commented on the problem in “Le danger aérien et nos voisins: L’organisation de la défense du territoire en Pologne, Angleterre, Allemagne,” L’Echo de Paris, 31 May 1933: 5. 28. Fritzsche, Nation of Fliers, 207. “Individual selfishness” was viewed as “French”— see below. 29. Nagel, “Das Räumungproblem im zivilen Luftschutz,” 113–14; Nagel, “Räumungsproblem in Kriegsgeschichte,” 114–18; Nagel, “Räumungsproblem in Kriegsgeschichte (Schluß),” 143–47; Nagel, “Das Räumungsproblem im zivilen Luftschutz: Räumung und Unterkunft,” Gasschutz und Luftschutz 5, no. 10 (1935): 249–53; Nagel, “Das Räumungsproblem im zivilen Luftschutz: Räumung und Lebensmittelversorgung,” Gasschutz und Luftschutz 5, no. 12 (1935): 308–10; Nagel, “Das Räumungsproblem im zivilen Luftschutz: Wälder, Zelte und Baracken,” Gasschutz und Luftschutz 6, no. 7 (1935): 172–79; E. Teschner, “Aus- und Umquartierung von Teilen der Zivilbevölkerung aus Großstädten und eng bebauten Stadtteilen als Schutzmaßnahme gegen Luftangriffe,” Gasschutz und Luftschutz 6, no. 10 (1936): 253–56. 30. The 1938 British Anderson Report judged a third of the population in vulnerable areas to be evacuable. French planners foresaw a complete clearing of Eastern border regions, but made lower estimates for urban areas, e.g., about 11 percent for Paris. Sir John Anderson, “Report of Committee on Evacuation: With a Covering Memorandum by the Secretary of State for the Home Department,” ed. Home Office (H. M. Stationary Office, 1938), 6; “La défense passive: II.—Les solutions,” Le Temps, 19 Apr. 1939. 31. Introduction to Grimme, “Räumung,” 64. 32. Emphasis in original; Grimme, “Räumung,” 64. 33. Grimme, “Räumung,” 65. On women and German civil defense, see Fritzsche, Nation of Fliers, 213–15, and Fritzsche, “Machine Dreams,” 704, 706–7; Nicole Kramer, “‘Kämpfende Mütter’ und ‘gefallene Heldinnen’: Frauen im Luftschutz,” in Deutschland im Luftkrieg: Geschichte und Erinnerung, ed. Dietmar Suß (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2007), 85–98. 34. Grimme, “Räumung,” 66. Michael Krause, among others, has noted that the Nazis used “Freimachungen,” “Rückführungen,” “Umquartierungen,” and “Verschickungen,” while words that implied a full-scale clearing of territory, such as “Evakuierung” and “Räumung,” were forbidden. Krause, Flucht, 38–42. On language in the Third Reich, see Victor Klemperer, LTI: Notizbuch eines Philologen (Halle, Saale: Veb Max Niemeyer, 1957). 35. Only vital military interests or the complete destruction of a city could justify evacuation. Grimme, “Räumung,” 66. 36. Grimme, “Räumung,” 66. 37. Introduction to Grimme, “Räumung,” 64. In their 1935 introduction to the feature on evacuations, Gasschutz und Luftschutz’s editors noted that they intended to publish a series of essays by retired Munich police colonel Nagel, a well-known authority on evacuation measures. The series would conclude with commentary by “a leading civil defense personality,” i.e., Lieutenant-Colonel Teschner, of the Reich Air Ministry. Teschner was moderately critical of Nagel’s views, but endorsed limited and voluntary evacuations, particularly of school children. Grimme’s additional article was not planned. Nagel, “Räumungproblem im Luftschutz,” 113; Teschner, “Aus- und Umquartierung,” 253–56.

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38. Stéphane Galanon reporting on a conversation with le Wita in “Peut-on et doiton faire évacuer Paris?” Le Petit Journal, 23 Aug. 1938: 4. 39. Le Wita, cited in Stéphane Galanon, “Si des avions attaquaient Paris … Fuir? Mais où?” Le Petit Journal, 24 Aug. 1938: 4. 40. Grimme knew Le Wita’s work, and cited his belief that, ‘One of the masterpieces of a future war will doubtless be the endurance of the German population’s morale under bombardments.” Henri Le Wita, Petit Journal, 23 Aug. 1936, quoted in Grimme, “Räumung,” 64. 41. Paluel-Marmont was editor-in-chief of L’Armee Moderne and was responsible for the military news page of l’Echo de Paris. See “La protection contre le danger aérien: Protéger la population, sera d’abord l’évacuer,” L’Echo de Paris, 3 May 1933: 5. General Vauthier, General Niessel, and Paul Hauduroy also wrote in favour of evacuation as a civil defense measure. Paul Hauduroy, Petit Dictionnaire de Défense Passive (Paris: Paul-Martial, 1939); Henri Albert Niessel, D.A.T.: Défense Aérienne du Territoire (Paris: Editions Cosmopolites, 1934). 42. See, for instance, “La défense passive: I.—Les problèmes,” Le Temps, 11 Apr. 1939. 43. See Giesler, “Tarnung,” 6, quoted above, and Grimme, “Räumung,” 65. 44. Paluel-Marmont, “Protéger,” 5. 45. Anderson, “Report of Committee on Evacuation: With a Covering Memorandum by the Secretary of State for the Home Department,” 20. 46. Hauduroy, Petit Dictionnaire, 53. 47. See also Luftfahrt und Schule, No. 1 (1935), reprinted in Fritzsche, Nation of Fliers, 201. 48. See AA: R 32814–R 32818, and Marcel Neu, L’évacuation, 21. 49. In a 1930 review of General Niessel’s latest work, Préparons la défense antiaérienne, the Neue Preussische Kreuz-Zeitung commented that, “The explanations of the French General … are very worth taking to heart. It is urgently to be wished that organizations similar to those already existing in France be called into life here too” (7 January 1930, AA: R 32814). See also Gaudlitz, “Der zivile Luftschutz in Frankreich,” Gasschutz und Luftschutz 3, no. 4 (1933): 99; and Alfred Giesler, “Der zivile Luftschutz im Ausland,” Gasschutz und Luftschutz 2, no. 6 (1932). The negative view had developed by 1934, for instance in Cohrs, “Ziviler Luftschutz im Auslande,” in Der zivile Luftschutz: ein Sammelwerk ueber alle Fragen des Luftschutzes, ed. E.H. Knipfer and Erich Hampe (Berlin: Otto Stollenberg, 1934), 119–23. 50. [Untitled article], 10 Sept. 1933, Le Matin (AA: R 32817). 51. Niessel’s book included a map showing German cities open to reprisals if French civilians were bombed. Niessel, D.A.T., 18–19, 88. 52. Pierre Cot, preface to Hauduroy, Petit Dictionnaire. 53. Law of 11 July 1938, J.O. 13 July 1938, Nr. 163: 8330–8337. 54. Vidalenc, L’Exode, 14–16. 55. Cf. “The German Air Menace,” Sir Winston Churchill, Speech to the House of Commons, 28 Nov. 1934 in James, 5440–49; Titmuss, Problems, 24. In Italy as well little prewar preparation for evacuation seems to have occurred. Stephen Harvey, “The Italian War Effort and the Strategic Bombing of Italy,” History 70, no. 228 (1985): 33. 56. AN: F23/220.

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57. Vidalenc, L’Exode, 16. Cf. Neu, L’évacuation, 20–21, 23. 58. By 1939, voluntary evacuees could go wherever they chose only if they paid their own transportation and had arranged accommodation at a secondary residence or with immediate family. Ministère de l’intérieur, Instruction Générale à l’usage de Messieurs les Préfets sur les Mouvements et Transports de Sauvegarde IGS 38-39 Secret (AD Calvados: 3 Z/2852), 50. 59. Göring, interview with Ward Price, Daily Mail, 11 Mar. 1935, as cited in Manfred Overesch, ed., Das III. Reich 1933–1939: Eine Tageschronik der Politik, Wirtschaft, Kultur, 2 vols., vol. 1 (Augsburg: Weltbild, 1991), 197. 60. Art. I, law of 8 Apr. 1935, J.O. 9 April 1938, Nr. 84: 3978–79. 61. Three years later, the Commission was made more permanent and given further scope for action. Report of 1 Apr. 1938 and law of 2 Apr. 1938, J.O., 3 Apr. 1938, Nr. 80: 3974–76. 62. All three directives dated 18 June 1935. France, Ministère de l’Intérieur, Instruction générale sur les mesures de sauvegarde (Paris, 1935); France, Ministère de l’Intérieur, Instruction particulière sur le repliement des régions menacées (Paris, 1935); France, Ministère de l’Intérieur, Instruction pratique sur la défense passive (Paris, 1935). See Neu, L’évacuation, 30–32; Vidalenc, L’Exode, 17. 63. The department of Moselle, for example, was to be evacuated to Vienne and Charente, while Nord was to be evacuated to Ille-et-Vilaine, Côtes du Nord, and Manche. Neu, L’évacuation, 30; Vidalenc, L’Exode, 17. 64. On French war anxiety after Munich, see Daniel Hucker, “French Public Attitudes Towards the Prospect of War in 1938–39: ‘Pacifism’ or ‘War Anxiety’?,” French History 21, no. 4 (2007): 431–49; and Patterson, Guernica. 65. I focus on the 1939 version of the directive, which was most often cited in wartime regulations. Partial mobilization in 1938 revealed problems with the earlier plan and the general staff recommended its revision in November 1938. Neu, L’évacuation, 52; Vidalenc, L’Exode, 29. 66. Repliement means “folding back,” but in a military context it describes a retreat or strategic withdrawal. 67. Ministère de l’intérieur, Instruction 1939, 7. The Germans planned compulsory evacuations of border areas as well (see below). 68. See chapter 2. 69. Ministère de l’intérieur, Instruction 1939, 79. 70. Ministère de l’intérieur, Instruction 1939, 9. 71. Neu, L’évacuation, 62. 72. Eckart Busch, “Das Reichsverteidigungsgesetz vom 21. Mai 1935,” Wehrwissenschaftliche Rundschau 10, no. 11 (1960). 73. Cf. Hampe, Zivile Luftschutz, 13. This gave police considerable discretion in punishing air raid protection violations, but a September 1938 circular from Himmler and Göring reminded them that they could only punish transgressions against police orders if the orders themselves were incontestable. This suggests that the police had been overzealous in enforcing civil defense regulations and that when challenged, police orders had not withstood scrutiny. (“§17 Polizeiliche Strafverfügung,” Erste Durchführungsverordnung zum Luftschutzgesetz of 4 May 1937, RGB 58 of 7 May 1937: 564; Himmler and

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Göring circular, 27 Sept. 1938, Ministerialblatt für die preußische innere Verwaltung, Nr. 41 of 5 Oct. 1938: 1633. 74. “All Germans are obligated to perform every active service, or service in kind, as well as [to enable] other activities, [give] tacit permissions and [ensure] omissions that are necessary for the implementation of air raid protection.” A later order specified that this regulation included both Jews and foreign nationals, although they were to participate only to protect themselves and their property. See chapter 6 and §2 (1) of the Luftschutzgesetz of 26 June 1935, RGB 69, 4 July 1935: 827; “§10 Kreis der zu erfassenden Dienstpflichtigen” and “§11 Ausländer und Staatenlose,” Erste Durchführungsverordnung zum Luftschutzgesetz of 7 May 1937, RGB 58, 7 May 1937: 561–2; Air Ministry to Ministry of the Interior, 22 June 1934 (HstAD: BR 1131–132). 75. Still, historian Neil Gregor argues that in the likely typical city of Nuremberg, “by the outbreak of war, only limited preparations had been made for the protection of the civilian population from the impact of air raids.” Neil Gregor, “A Schicksalsgemeinschaft? Allied Bombing, Civilian morale, and Social Dissolution in Nuremberg, 1942–45,” The Historical Journal 43, no. 4 (2000): 1055. 76. Eggebrecht, “Räumungsfragen im Luftschutz” (HstAD: BR 1131/170). 77. Undated note, ca. 3 April 1935 (HstAD: BR 1131/170). 78. Even municipal authorities were cautious about evacuations. Police officials in Cologne, for instance, did not consider them viable because of housing and transportation difficulties and the city’s position on the west side of the Rhine, inside the then demilitarized zone. Police Major Gaßler, report, 30 Sept. 1935 (HstAD: BR 1131–170). 79. Sources disagree regarding the exact width of this zone, as Michael Krause has noted (42). 80. See chapter 2. 81. Krause, Flucht, 43. Rudolf Hess to regional mobilization representatives, 13 Apr. 1940 (BA: NS 6-452). See also Hans-Walter Hermann, “Die Freimachung der Roten Zone 1939/40,” Zeitschrift für die Geschichte der Saargegend 32 (1984): 65.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 2 1. Joseph Goebbels, Die Tagebücher, Part I: Aufzeichnungen 1924-41, vol. 4: Jan. 1940–July 1941, ed. Elke Fröhlich (Munich: K.G. Sauer, 1994), 4: 22 June 1940, 212. 2. This first order, given on 29 August, covered the area between the upper Rhine and the Moselle. Orders to clear other parts of this region followed until 3 September 1939. The Sopade reports, however, date evacuations from 25 August 1939 through to October. Areas bordering on Belgium and Holland were evacuated later than those opposite the Maginot Line. In Eastern Germany, stockpiles of food and materials were established for civilians, and some small-scale evacuations took place. Deutschland-Berichte der Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands (Sopade), 7 vols. (Frankfurt am Main: Verlag Petra Nettelbeck, 1980), 6: 973–74; Hermann, “Freimachung,” 71–2; Hans Heß, “Westwallbau, Räumung und Wiederbesiedlung in den Grenzgemeinden des ehemaligen Landkreises Bergzabern,” Zeitschrift für die Geschichte der Saargegend 32 (1984): 90–106; Vorländer, NSV, 129. 3. Sopade reports, 6: 973.

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4. Ministry of the Interior circular, 11 Sept. 1939 (StAM: NSV 644). 5. Sopade reports, 6: 974. 6. Hans-Walter Herrmann, who calls this evacuation, “the first major example of mass transports that the Nazi regime carried out,” notes its importance for later attempts to resettle German-descended populations from Eastern and Southeastern Europe in the Reich, but omits the links to other, darker, Nazi projects. Hermann, “Freimachung,” 64. On these links, see chapter 6. 7. Sopade reports, 6: 972, 974. 8. Deutschland-Berichte der Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands (Sopade), 7 vols. (Frankfurt am Main: Verlag Petra Nettelbeck, 1980), 7: 35. Cf. Stephenson, Württemberg, 295–96. 9. See, for instance, SD-reports of 15 and 29 Dec. 1939 (BA: R 58/146 and BA: R 58/147). 10. SD-report, 17 Jan. 1940 (BA: R 58/147); Sopade reports, 6: 975. 11. Sopade reports, 7: 36. 12. SD-report, 12 Jan. 1940 (BA: R 58/147). 13. Hermann, “Freimachung,” 74. 14. Sopade reports, 6: 975. 15. SD-report, 29 Dec. 1939 (BA: R 58/146). 16. SD-report, 15 Dec. 1939 (BA: R 58/146). In October 1939, the Ministry of the Interior warned local authorities that some evacuees had left assigned reception areas and applied for evacuees’ allowances in several towns. Circular, 10 Oct. 1940 (HstAD: RW 53/720). 17. Ministry of the Interior circulars, 25 June and 3 July 1940 (StAM: NSV 646; HstAD: RW 53/720). 18. NSDAP, Führer’s representative, mobilisation department circular, 13 Apr. 1940 (BA: NS 6/452); and Hermann, “Freimachung,” 75. 19. Ministry of the Interior circular, 25 June 1940 (StAM: NS 646). 20. NSDAP, Führer’s representative, mobilisation department circular, 29 June 1940 (BA: NS 6/452). 21. Chief public prosecutor Zweibrücken to Reich Justice Minister Gürtner, report, 1 Aug. 1940 (BA: R 3000/3389). 22. Some returns took until 1941, or later. Hermann, “Freimachung,” 81; Heß, “Westwallbau,” 101. 23. Civilians were encouraged to leave cities like Lille, Amiens or Roubaix. Children to 14 years, mothers, and pregnant women were evacuated from Paris and from northeastern coastal cities like Calais, Le Havre, and Rouen. Ministry of Public Health to préfets, 31 Aug. 1939 (AN: F 23/220); Préfet of Manche to mayors, 25 Apr. 1940 (AD Manche: 3 Z/168; ADP: 1097 W art. 33). Hanna Diamond suggests that children’s absence at camp, splitting families before hostilities began, contributed to families’ anxiety. Diamond, Women, 19. 24. Following Laird Boswell, I use Lorrainers to refer to the residents of Lorraine (Lorrains). Boswell notes that the area was called “Alsace-Lorraine” (Elsaß-Lothringen) from 1871, when it became part of Germany. Today, Alsace encompasses the departments of Bas-Rhin and Haut-Rhin, while Lorraine includes Meurthe-et-Moselle, Meuse,

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Moselle, and Vosges. The French typically refer to each part separately, rather than using Alsace-Lorraine. Boswell, “Franco-Alsatian.” Evacuation figures cited in Laird Boswell, “Fissures dans la nation française: les réfugiés Alsaciens et Lorrains en 1939–1940,” in 1940: La France du repli et L’Europe de la Défaite, ed. Max Lagarrigue (Toulouse: Editions Privat, 2001), 197–98. 25. These departments were chosen partly because they were underpopulated, but as a British observer noted, the soil was poor, and the low population density meant fewer billets were available. J. Sandford, British embassy in France, report, 11 Oct. 1939 (document passed on to the German embassy in Paris by the SS in 1940, AA: Paris 1289). 26. Using freight cars to transport civilian passengers was surprisingly common in wartime. Conditions varied from poor to appalling, depending on the subjects and objective of the transport (cf. chapter 6). J. Sandford, British embassy in France, report, 11 Oct. 1939 (AA: Paris 1289); confidential government report, 26 Sept. 1939 (AN: F23/220); Neu, L’évacuation, 285. 27. Confidential government report, 26 Sept. 1939 (AN: F23/220). 28. Archives du Comité français de Service Social, Rapport sur les évacués repliés dans la région de Châtellerault en octobre 1939, quoted in Vidalenc, L’Exode, 44. 29. Confidential government report, 26 Sept. 1939 (AN: F23/220). See also Vidalenc, L’Exode, 43–46. 30. (My translation). Boswell, “Fissures,” 199. Host populations, according to Boswell, had been taught to think of Alsace-Lorraine as a gratefully re-assimilated lost child of France, while evacuees themselves remained German-dialect-speaking patriots of their regional Heimat. See also Boswell, “Franco-Alsatian,” 552–84. 31. Boswell, “Fissures,” 199. 32. Belgians too were not always welcome in France, although Boswell argues that they were treated better than Alsatians where there were both types of evacuees, as in the Périgord. Boswell, “Franco-Alsatian,” 57. Marcel Neu’s interviews with former Lorraine evacuees and hosts in Charente villages suggest evacuation was less traumatic for these more often Catholic and French-speaking individuals. Mme. Georgette Deschamps recalled that despite linguistic and other challenges, “we considered them to be fully French.” Neu, L’évacuation, 300. On religion, see Boswell, “Fissures,” 202–3; Boswell, “Franco-Alsatian,” 568–70; and Claire Dietrich, “Les protestants d’Alsace du Nord durant l’évacuation en Haute-Vienne (1939–1940),” Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français 133, no. 4 (1987), 579–601. 33. Vidalenc, L’Exode, 46. 34. See chapters 4 and 5. 35. This effect may have been stronger on women, who were less likely to travel than men and not subject to military service. For Boswell, Alsatians and Lorrainers in the French interior “illustrated the gulf separating the region from the nation.” Boswell, “Franco-Alsatian,” 584. Still, many Lorrainers kept in touch with their hosts, and marriages between former evacuees and locals took place. Neu, L’évacuation, 301–11. Evacuation had integrative economic effects as well, for though it devastated the Strasbourg economy, “A celebrated Strasbourg industry, the fabrication of foie gras, [now found] itself in Périgueux, at the very center of production of its raw materials, geese and truffles. It will install itself at Périgueux.” Report of Dr. G. v. Schulthess, president of the Union des

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Villes Suisses to Institut d’études Européenes de Strasbourg, “Une rapport suisse sur la défense passive de Paris et le problème de l’évacuation,” 12 Mar. 1940 (AN: F 23/229). 36. Boswell, “Franco-Alsatian,” 574. 37. Vidalenc, L’Exode, 72, 173. 38. L. Detrez, Du sang sur le parvis, 75, quoted in Vidalenc, L’Exode, 100. 39. André Morize, France été 1940 (New York, NY: Editions de la Maison Française, 1941), 40–41. 40. J. Charpentier, Au service de la liberté, 83, quoted in Vidalenc, L’Exode, 166. Cf. Irène Nemirovsky, Suite Française, trans. Sandra Smith (Toronto: Knopf, 2006). 41. A list of reception areas was part of the 1938 directive, although evacuees could also join family elsewhere. Ministère de l’intérieur, Instruction Générale à l’usage de Messieurs les Préfets sur les Mouvements et Transports de Sauvegarde IGS 38-39 Secret (ADCalvados : 3 Z/2852): Appendix 3 and Ministry of National Education to préfets and academic inspectors, 14 Sept. 1939 (AD Calvados: 3 Z/2352). 42. These were Indre, Allier, Creuse, Haute-Vienne, Correze, Puy-de-Dôme, Dordogne, and Cantal. 43. “C’est par millions que les Français du Nord se sont repliés vers le centre et le sud de la France,” French newspaper article collected by Auslandswissenschaftliches Institut, exact origin unknown, 22 Aug. 1940 (BA: R 4902/10294). On evacuees’ reception in Correze, see Dombrowski, “Beyond,” ch. 4. 44. Préfet of Calvados to Mayors of Vire arrondissement, 20 May 1940 (AD Calvados: 3 Z/2852). 45. Minister of Supply to préfets, 21 May 1940 (AD Eure: 1 M: 509). 46. Paxton, Vichy France, 13. 47. The German embassy in Paris telephoned in March 1941, to ask the French government for this information, along with the number who had died during the “exodus.” The French responded after a delay, withholding the number of dead (if they knew it accurately) because they feared the Germans wanted the information to “serve propagandistic ends.” Note of French Government Delegation in Occupied Territories to French Direction of Armistice Services, 14 Mar. 1941 (AN: 41 AJ/347). 48. Since it was difficult to verify evacuees’ stories, help in kind was preferred. See AD Eure: 1290 W/67. 49. Minister of Public Health to préfets, 20 and 23 May 1940 (AD Manche: 3 Z/168). The typhoid vaccine, relatively new, had been used in the French army since 1914. Men who had performed military service already having been vaccinated, most typhoid victims were now women and children, who were also the majority of evacuees. Still, health expert Dr. Rouèche concluded in 1941 that children had been relatively healthy during the “exodus,” and some urban youngsters had even benefited from time in the countryside. H. Rouèche, Considérations sur l’état sanitaire de la population infantile pendant les périodes de repliement et d’exode 1939–1940 ([Paris]: 1941). 50. On the NSV in France see Kulok, “Trait,” 78–80; Julia Torrie, “The Many Aims of Assistance: The Nationalsozialistische Volkswohlfahrt and aid to French civilians in 1940,” War & Society 26, no. 1 (2007): 27–38. 51. On the history of the NSV, see Vorländer, NSV, and Eckhard Hansen, Wohlfahrtspolitik im NS-Staat: Motivationen, Konflikte und Machtstrukturen im ‘Sozialismus der Tat’ des Dritten Reiches, vol. 9, Beiträge zur Sozialpolitik (Augsburg: Maro, 1991); Nolzen,

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“Sozialismus,” 57–69; Peter Zolling, Zwischen Integration und Segregation: Sozialpolitik im “Dritten Reich” am Beispiel der “Nationalsozialistischen Volkswohlfahrt” (NSV) in Hamburg (Frankfurt am Main: P. Lang, 1986). 52. Nolzen, “Sozialismus,” 67. 53. On social workers, see Angelika Ebbinghaus, ed., Opfer und Täterinnen: Frauenbiographien des Nationalsozialismus, Die Frau in der Gesellschaft, 13094 (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1987); Hans-Uwe Otto and Heinz Sünker, eds., Soziale Arbeit und Faschismus (Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1989); Armelle Mabon-Fall, Les assistantes sociales au temps de Vichy: du silence à l’oubli (Paris: Éditions L’Harmattan, 1995). 54. Nolzen, “Sozialismus,” 61–62. 55. A view propagated by NSV-Helfer, NSV newsletter in Gau Düsseldorf, for example. 56. Other staff followed. NSV press release, 6 July 1940 (BA: NS 26/258) and Vorländer, NSV, 129. Accounts of the NSV’s French operation dated fall 1940 may be found in BA: NS 37/2065. 57. NSV press release, 6 July 1940 (BA: NS 26/258). The Hilfszug Bayern, a special emergency services train, was also used in Belgium and France summer 1940 (AA: Paris 1288; AN: 40 AJ/41 and AN: 40 AJ/52). 58. Rudolf van Wehrt, Frankreich auf der Flucht: Ein Erlebnisbericht aus dramatischen Tagen (Oldenburg: Gerhard Stalling Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1941), photo facing p. 176; and Kulok, “Trait,” 78. 59. Only the NSV’s perhaps exaggerated figures survive. As the NSV itself emphasized, most of the food came from French and Belgian stocks. Vorländer, NSV, 130n5; Hans Bernsee, Aufgaben der NS-Volkswohlfahrt im Kriege, vol. 7, Deutsche Arbeit (Berlin: Zentralverlag der NSDAP, 1941), 22–26, 38. 60. The group based at Vernon, Eure, for instance, left on 25 Aug. 1940. See NSV district leader Folkers, Norden (Gau Weser-Ems), report on experiences in France, 27 Nov. 1940 (BA: NS 37/2065). 61. This was perhaps a sign of the Nazi fixation with hygiene, although the French were likewise concerned about epidemics among displaced civilians. NSV district leader Maus, report about experiences in Vernon (Eure), n.d. [1940] (BA: NS 37/2065). 62. NSV district leader Maus, report about experiences in Vernon (Eure), [1940] (BA: NS 37/2065). Cf. Geiger, L’image, 213. 63. “Deutscher Sozialismus in Frankreich,” NSV-Helfer: Nachrichtenblatt des Gauamtes der NSV, Düsseldorf, July/Aug. 1940; NSV press agency report on article “Mit der NSV. in Belgien und Frankreich (Schluß),” Nationalsozialistische Partei-Korrespondenz, 14. July 1940 (BA: NS 26/258). 64. NSV press agency report on article, “Mit der NSV. in Belgien und Frankreich (Schluß),” Nationalsozialistische Partei-Korrespondenz, 14 July 1940 (BA: NS 26/258). 65. The NSV ran a camp in Brussels to gather and sort refugees and evacuees. Belgians, Alsatians, and Lorrainers were housed separately. NSV press agency reports on “Mit der NSV. in Belgien und Frankreich” and “Mit der NSV. in Belgien und Frankreich (Schluß),” Nationalsozialistische Partei-Korrespondenz, 6 and 14 July 1940 (BA: NS 26/258); German Quarter Master General, 28 June 1940 (AN: 40 AJ/41). 66. NSV district leader Folkers, Norden (Gau Weser-Ems), report on experiences in Belgium and France, 27 Nov. 1940 (BA: NS 37/2065).

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67. See chapter 6. 68. NSV press agency report on “Mit der NSV. in Belgien und Frankreich,” Nationalsozialistische Partei-Korrespondenz, 6 July 1940 (BA: NS 26/258). 69. “Deutscher Sozialismus in Frankreich,” NSV-Helfer, July/Aug. 1940. On Nazi views of France, see Geiger, L’image. 70. “Deutscher Sozialismus in Frankreich,” NSV-Helfer, July/Aug. 1940. Cf. Figure 2.1. 71. Bernsee, Aufgaben, 31. 72. “Deutscher Sozialismus in Frankreich,” NSV-Helfer, July/Aug. 1940. 73. On the World War I occupation, see John N. Horne and Alan Kramer, German Atrocities 1914: A History of Denial (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2001); John Horne and Alan Kramer, “German ‘Atrocities’ and Franco-German Opinion, 1914: The Evidence of German Soldiers’ Diaries,” Journal of Modern History 66, no. March (1994): 1–33; Winter, Experience. Remarks about Germans’ unexpected “correctness” are common in 1940 reports by French officials on Franco-German relations. See, for instance AD Calvados: 19 W 1/2. Nicole Dombrowski suggests French civilians remembered 1940, and the exodus in particular, as a kind of honeymoon before the Germans became nasty. Richard Cobb writes that in the Nord, there was “a sort of intimacy between occupant and occupé based on long familiarity” that made the population in this area less surprised by German ‘correctness’ than those elsewhere. Richard Cobb, French and Germans, Germans and French: A Personal Interpretation of France under Two Occupations 1914–1918/1940–1944 (Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 1983), 44; Dombrowski, “Beyond,” 246. 74. “L’aide allemande en faveur du retour des réfugiés,” Le Moniteur (ClermontFerrand), ca. 6 Sept. 1940 (AN: 2 AG 613). 75. Préfet of Seine, report, 13 Sept. 1940 (ADP: 1012/57/1 art. 3). 76. Préfet of Seine, report, 13 Sept. 1940 (ADP: 1012/57/1 art. 3). On depictions of German benevolence in the Deutsche Wochenschau, see Paul Maine, “L’image de Paris et de la France occupée dans les actualités allemande (Deutsche Wochenschau) de mai 1940 à novembre 1942,” in La France et l’Allemagne en guerre: septembre 1939–novembre 1942, ed. Claude Carlier and Stefan Martens (Paris: Fondation pour les études de Défense nationale; Institut d’histoire des conflits contemporains; Bundesministerium für Forschung und Technologie; Deutsches Historisches Institut Paris, 1990), especially 393–95. The German-diffused Actualités mondiales also included segments about German assistance to French civilians during the “exodus.” See, for instance, Vidéothèque (Paris): VDP 4684 (August 1940) and VDP 4686 (Nov. 1940). 77. Essay by German Foreign office representative Frauenfeld, “Das Leben ist stärker!” ca. 17 July 1940 (AA: Paris 1289). 78. “Keine deutsche Aufgabe,” Deutsche Zeitung [Norway], 31 Aug. 1940 (BA: R 4902/10294). 79. For example, “C’est par millions que les Français du Nord se sont repliés vers le centre et le sud de la France,” French newspaper article collected by Auslandswissenschaftliches Institut, exact origin unknown, 22 Aug. 1940 (BA: R 4902/10294). 80. On 7 August 1940, three pre-existing Red Cross societies were amalgamated to form the French Red Cross. Le Crom, “Philanthropie,” 218. 81. Raymond Poincaré spoke of the Secours National during World War I as a “mira-

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cle of unity and charity.” Emile Henriot, “Le Secours National,” Le Temps, 27 Aug. 1940. On the Secours National during World War II, see Le Crom, “Philanthropie,” 183–236; Kulok, “Trait”; Diamond, Women, 26–27, 54–55, 67, 70, 93. 82. Henriot, “Le Secours National.” In Jan Kulok’s words, the Secours National was “the government’s non-governmental organisation.” Kulok, “Trait,” 379. 83. Secours National, Face à l’épreuve: 18 mois d’entr’aide (Lyons: Nouvelliste, 1941): 18 (AN: 2 AG/500). 84. Secours National, Face à l’épreuve: 18 mois d’entr’aide (Lyons: Nouvelliste, 1941): 5 (AN: 2 AG/500). 85. Secours National, Face à l’épreuve: 18 mois d’entr’aide (Lyons: Nouvelliste, 1941): 7 (AN: 2 AG/500). 86. Secours National, Face à l’épreuve: 18 mois d’entr’aide (Lyons: Nouvelliste, 1941): 7 (AN: 2 AG/500). 87. “Intervention du Secours National en faveur des réfugiés” [n.d., ca. fall–winter 1940–41] (ADP: 24 W/19). Cf. Le Crom, “Philanthropie,” 199–200. 88. German military administration in France note, 16 or 23 Sept. 1940 (AN: 40 AJ/548). On debates surrounding German authorization of the Secours National, see Kulok, “Trait,” 79ff., and Torrie, “Aims,” 35–36. According to a statement of Secours National general principles, 20 Sept. 1940, the group saw itself as working with the French Red Cross, not under it (AD Cantal: 419 F/3). On the German Red Cross in the occupied territories, see Bernd Biege, Helfer unter Hitler: Das Rote Kreuz im Dritten Reich (Reinbek bei Hamburg: Kindler, 2000), 79–82. 89. Reich NSV to Gau NSV propaganda offices, 20 Mar. 1942 (BA: NS 37/1006). 90. See chapters 3 and 6. 91. Vorländer, NSV, 129. 92. The Sopade reported a German observer’s comment that, “Recently we were able to read in the German newspapers about how badly the evacuated Alsatians were faring in their new asylum. Since we now have a mass of German evacuees from the Rhine in our own area, there was no cruel laughter when that load of rubbish was read.” Sopade reports, 7: 35. To the extent that they have compared the 1939 evacuations on either side of the Rhine, present-day historians tend to take German propaganda at face value (Cf. Heß, “Westwallbau,” 97), but it remains doubtful that German evacuations were much better organized than French evacuations. Wolfgang Geiger notes that Germans exaggerated the chaos in France during the “exodus.” Geiger, L’image, 310. 93. van Wehrt, Frankreich auf der Flucht: Ein Erlebnisbericht aus dramatischen Tagen, 112. 94. Pointing out French inferiority also discouraged German soldiers from fraternizing with the enemy. Goebbels commented that: “it is only by the suppression of information coming from France that we can prevent an excessively francophile atmosphere from gaining ground in Germany.” Confidential conference between Goebbels and his closest collaborators, extract of minutes, 6 July 1940, quoted in Geiger, L’image, 127.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 3 1. 2 Aug. 1940, Luftwaffe report on civilian air raid protection, Nr. 2 (BA-MA: RL 4/332).

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2. Richard Titmuss interpreted British evacuations as a key impetus for the British welfare state, and debates about this view still shape the historiography of British evacuations. See Titmuss, Problems; Laura Lee Downs, “‘A very British revolution’? The Evacuation of City Children to the English Countryside, 1939–45,” Vingtième Siècle 89 (2006): 47–60; José Harris, “Some Aspects of Social Policy in Britain during the Second World War,” in The Emergence of the Welfare State in Britain and Germany, ed. W.J. Mommsen (London: Croom Helm, 1981); John Macnicol, “The Evacuation of Schoolchildren,” in War and Social Change: British Society in the Second World War, ed. Harold L. Smith (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1986); John Welshman, “Evacuation and Social Policy During the Second World War: Myth and Reality,” Twentieth Century British History 9, no. 1 (1998). 3. British programs were cited comparatively to assure Germans that their own were more effective. “Kinderlandverschickung der anderen,” Nationalsozialistsiche ParteiKorrespondenz, 8 Dec. 1942 (BA: NS 12/942). Carsten Kressel’s comparison of Liverpool and Hamburg evacuations emphasizes similarities despite different political systems. Kressel, Evakuierungen. 4. Precision bombing remained the policy over France. On Allied bombing, see Max Hastings, Bomber Command (London: Pan, 1979), 156. 5. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 82. 6. William L. Shirer, Berlin Diary: The Journal of a Foreign Correspondent: 1934–1941 (New York: Popular Library, 1961), 26 Aug. 1940, 361. 7. The most authoritative history of the KLV is Gerhard Kock’s. Other accounts are Dabel, KLV; Larass, Zug. For the Ruhr area, see Gerhard E. Sollbach, Heimat Ade!: Kinderlandverschickung in Hagen 1941–1945, ed. Museen für Stadt- und Heimatgeschichte und Stadtarchiv Hagen, vol. 7, Hagener Stadtgeschichte(n) (Hagen: Lesezeichen, 1998); and Sollbach, “Mütter.” 8. Party, church, and charitable summer camps were common in interwar Europe. The KLV harkened back specifically to the “Reichszentrale Landaufenthalt für Stadtkinder,” founded during World War I for undernourished city children. “Kinder kommen aufs Land,” Nationalsozialistische Partei-Korrespondenz, 30 Jan. 1942 (BA: NS 12/942). 9. KLV directive and implementing order, 27 and 30 Sept. 1940 (BA: NS 37/1004). 10. “Experiences thus far” refers to the evacuation of 200,000 children during border zone evacuations in western Germany in 1939–40. Emphasis in the original, KLV directive, 27 Sept. 1940 (BA: NS 37/1004). 11. Deaf children from Hamburg moved to a school for the deaf near Vienna, blind children to Timmendorfer Strand (BA: Zsg. 140/94; BA: R 55/591). Some chronically ill (e.g., tubercular) children appear to have been evacuated, but so-called “feeble-minded” or “racially deficient” children were never part of the KLV. 12. KLV implementing order, 30 Sept. 1940 (BA: NS 37/1004). 13. Kock’s analysis applies most directly to his focus group, the 10 to 14 year-olds evacuated by the Hitler Youth. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 144–48, 307–43. 14. Groups of about 500 each were accommodated by train. KLV implementing order, 30 Sept. 1940 (BA: NS 37/1004); Chart showing KLV trains Jan.–Mar. 1942 (BA: NS 37/1006); Hilke Lorenz, Kriegskinder: Das Schicksal einer Generation (Berlin: Ullstein, 2005), 57, 59.

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15. “Anweisungen für die Jungen- und Mädellager,” 1940 (BA: NS 12-942). 16. Cited in Lorenz, Kriegskinder, 60. 17. Cited in Lorenz, Kriegskinder, 59. 18. Sending children to Hungary and Northern Italy was discussed at a June 1941 KLV conference in Berlin. Parents were to be assured that, “the children will not end up in the regions of our dear ‘Huns,’ but rather in purely German [volksdeutsche] centers.” Baldur von Schirach suggested space might be found for as many as 100,000 children in these areas, and some youngsters definitely were evacuated to Hungary, Bohemia, Moravia, and other areas outside the Reich. Report on Berlin KLV conference, NS-Lehrerbund representative, 25 June 1941 (BA: NS 12/942). Cf. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 101ff. 19. In July 1942, the Feldkommandant at Neuilly-sur-Seine reported a rumour that 500 Cologne families had been brought to Châtenay-Malabry, where they received accommodation, clothing, and food. I have found no evidence that this actually occurred, but the rumour speaks volumes about French fears that bombed-out Germans sent to France would have preference over them in the delivery of housing and rationed goods. Report of 14 July 1942 (AN: 40 AJ/897). A letter from NSV Netherlands to Gau Westfalen-Nord, 2 May 1944, mentions German evacuees in Holland (StAM: NSV 1156). In 1942, 151 Dutch and 39 Walloon children participated in the KLV, according to an article in the Völkischer Beobachter, “Hochbetreib in der Kinderlandverschickung,” 31 Dec. 1942 (BA: NS 12/942). In Alsace, propaganda stressed that evacuees would help link the new territory more closely to the Reich, but in fact some behaved “as if they were the conquerors of an enemy land.” See “Altreichkinder im elsässischen Dorf,” 6 July 1942, Völkischer Beobachter (Munich), (BA: NS 12/942); report of Hagen city representative who visited evacuees in annexed Alsace, 16 Oct. 1942 (GLAKHE: 465d/955), cited in Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 102. 20. Because the vulnerable Netherlands was used as a reception area, France’s openness to attack was not the main reason it was avoided. 21. Emphasis in original, KLV implementing order, 30 Sept. 1940 (BA: NS 37/1004). The regulations stated that if there was an accommodation shortage, 12 to 14 year-old boys should have first priority for collective facilities, presumably because their political education and socialization was considered most crucial. If necessary, 10 to 12 year-old boys, and girls aged 10 to 14 years could be housed with foster families. NSV summary of KLV regulations, 8 Nov. 1940 (BA: NS 37/1004). 22. KLV implementing order, 30 Sept. 1940 (BA: NS 37/1004). 23. Reich Ministry of Education directive, 2 Oct. 1940 (BA: NS 37/1004). 24. To parents, planners spoke of up to 6-month stays in the KLV camps. Emphasis in original, KLV implementing order, 30 Sept. 1940 (BA: NS 37/1004). 25. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 134–43. 26. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 213f. 27. LK-Mitteilung, 14 June 1943 (BA: R55/447). 28. NSV Baden circular, 8 June 1943 (GLAKHE: 465d/908). 29. There is debate about whether school evacuations were part of the KLV or belonged to the more general evacuation program. In fact, they straddled both formats, which were in any case less distinct after 1943. NSV Baden circular, 8 June 1943 (GLAKHE: 465d/908). See also Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 215–16.

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30. Reich Statistics Office, 11 Jan. 1945 (BA: R 3102/44). These figures may include some civilians fleeing the Soviet and Allied armies. Evacuation statistics are incomplete and impossible to verify—see Krause, Flucht, 174–84; Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 134–43. 31. Ministry of the Interior circular, 11 Feb. 1943 (StAM: NSV 648: 2). 32. Reich Statistics Office, 11 Jan. 1945 (BA: R 3102/44). 33. Ministry of the Interior circular, 14 Apr. 1943 (GLAKHE 465d/1529). 34. Emergency plan of Cologne-Aachen Nazi party, Jan. 1944 (HstAD: RW 23/2); Deutscher Gemeindetag circular, 28 July 1942 (HstAD: RW 53/702). 35. Published circular, Ministry of the Interior, 28 Mar. 1941 (BA: R 1501/1423). 36. Municipal governments resented this. Municipal representatives’ meeting at Düsseldorf minutes, 18 July 1942; meeting at Hannover, 26 Aug. 1942 (HstAD: RW 53/701). 37. Göring, statement about division of responsibilities in air raid protection, 17 December 1942 (HstAD: R 37/22). 38. Cologne’s plans are detailed in HstAD: RW 23/2; RW 23/25; RW 53/701; RW 53/703. Cf. Gregor, “Schicksalsgemeinschaft,” 1051–70. 39. Meeting of municipal representatives at Düsseldorf minutes, 18 July 1942 (HstAD: RW 53/701). 40. A copy of the card is in HstAD: RW 23/2. Soup kitchens ran as long as necessary, but in Cologne, ration cards had to be presented from the fourth day onward (HstAD: RW 53/703). United States, “Civilian Defense Division Final Report (European Report 40),” in The United States Strategic Bombing Survey, ed. David MacIsaac (New York: Garland, 1976), 114. 41. Monthly report of Regierungspräsident Ansbach for August 1942, 8 Sept. 1942, cited in Gregor, “Schicksalsgemeinschaft,” 1057. 42. Berlin’s mayor reported in December 1943 that 170,000 of approximately 1.5 million apartments in the city had been destroyed, another 300,000 damaged. Since 235,000 bombed-out people had already found alternate accommodation in the city, apartments still standing were crowded to saturation. Note about meeting of region’s mayors, 27 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 1501/1331). The housing situation was debated at the highest levels of government in late 1942 and early 1943 (BA: R 43 II/667; BA: R 2/29917). 43. A city representative in Oberhausen noted that, “these residential barracks are inhabited very unwillingly. [People] … have often refused to take up residence in them.” Report on housing, Oberhausen, 28 July 1942 (HstAD: RW 53/701). On housing policy, see Marie-Luise Recker, “Wohnen und Bombardierung im Zweiten Weltkrieg,” in Wohnen im Wandel: Beiträge zur Geschichte des Alltags in der bürgerlichen Gesellschaft, ed. Lutz Niethammer (Wuppertal: Peter Hammer, 1979); and Marie-Luise Recker, Nationalsozialistische Sozialpolitik im Zweiten Weltkrieg, ed. Institut für Zeitgeschichte, vol. 29, Studien zur Zeitgeschichte (Munich: R. Oldenbourg, 1995), chs. III: 3 and IV: 4. 44. See Recker, “Wohnen,” 416, and chapter 6. 45. USSBS IV 64b, 119. 46. [Oberregierungsrat] Fischer, “Umquartierung der Bevölkerung vor und nach Luftangriffen,” Deutsche Verwaltung 21, no. 5 (1944). Although there had been designated reception areas for border zone evacuees in 1939–1940, and for the KLV since its inception, other evacuees had been free to choose their own refuge. Circular, 20 Oct. 1942 (GLAKHE: 465d/1530); Reich Minister of the Interior note, 2 May 1941 (HstAD:

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Regierung Düsseldorf 54 475 Teil II), and Baldur von Schirach circular, 30 Oct. 1940 (BA: NS 37/1004). 47. Some hotel owners reacted badly to the requisition of their facilities for child evacuees. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 120. 48. Ministry of the Interior circular, 11 Aug. 1943 (StAM: NSV 648: 2). 49. Ministry of the Interior circular, 19 Apr. 1943 (StAM: NSV 648: 2). 50. Ministry of the Interior circular, 19 Apr. 1943 (StAM: NSV 648: 2). 51. See chapter 4. 52. Ministries of the Interior and Finance circular, 22 Aug. 1939 (BA: R 36/2607). On the evacuees’ allowance, see also Krause, Flucht, 115–21. 53. Ministries of the Interior and Finance order, 21 Aug. 1939 (BA: R 36/2607). 54. Ministries of the Interior and Finance, published circular, 21 Oct. 1939 (BA: R 1501/1414). 55. Ministries of the Interior and Finance, published circulars, 30 Nov. 1939 and 25 July 1942 (BA: R 1501/1414 and HstAD: RW 53/723). On evacuees’ employment, see chapter 4. 56. This might mean paying for meals or laundry. Ministries of the Interior and Finance published circular, 21 Oct. 1939 (BA: R 1501/1414). See also circulars of 25 July 1942 (HstAD: RW 53-723); 2 Sept. 1943 (StAM: NSV 648: 1); and 10 June 1944 (BA: R 1501/1365). 57. If a wife had legitimate grounds to stay in the city, 64 Reichsmarks could be taken out for her also. Ministries of the Interior and Finance circular, 2 Sept. 1943 (StAM: NSV 648: 1). 58. Based on “Der Haushalt der Umquartierten: Änderungen im Räumungsfamilienunterhalt,” WLZ, 20/21 Nov. 1943. In 1944, these rules were simplified, and in some cases, the amount fathers contributed to their dependents’ upkeep increased. Ministry of the Interior and Ministry of Finance, 16th circular, 10 June 1944; and comments on draft circular (BA: R 1501/1365). 59. This included illegitimate children if a legal obligation to support them was established (StAM: NSV 644). 60. “Der Unterhaltsanspruch des landverschickten Kindes,” Völkischer Beobachter (Munich), 2/3 May 1942 (BA: NS 12/942); see also SD-Report, 4 Sept. 1941 (BA: R 58/164). 61. Free KLV evacuations were meant to be more attractive than costly private arrangements, but parents were still pressured to make a contribution to the KLV or NSV. Report by Luftkriegsschädenausschuß representative on visit to evacuees in Angermünde area, 29 Dec. 1943 (BA: NS 26/260; BA: R 1501/1420). 62. “Der Unterhaltsanspruch des landverschickten Kindes,” Völkischer Beobachter (Munich), 2/3 May 1942; based on an article in Deutsches Recht. See also SD-Report 4 Sept. 1941 (BA: R 58/164). 63. Himmler’s comment referred to all “dead-beat” fathers, not just those of evacuees. See Himmler’s letter, 27 Sept. 1941 (BA: Personalakte Hilgenfeldt). 64. Annual report 1943, municipal welfare and youth office (Stadtarchiv Düsseldorf: Bestand XXIII/543); Ministry of the Interior files BA: R 1501/1414 through BA: R 1501/1423; BA: R 1501/1365 and BA: R 36/2607. 65. Reich Ministry of the Interior letter to head of Deutsche Gemeindetag, 20 Mar. 1944 (BA: R 36/2607).

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66. Landrat Rügen district to regional president Stettin, 10 Mar. 1944 (BA: R 1501/1421). See also BA: R 1501/1418; BA: R 1501/1420; and BA: R 1501/1421. 67. 1943 Annual report, municipal welfare and youth office (Stadtarchiv Düsseldorf: Bestand XXIII/543). 68. On these reforms see BA: R 36/2607 and BA: R 1501/1365, which contain draft legislation. 69. Deutscher Gemeindetag report, 23 May 1944 (BA: R 36/2607). 70. Report on Familienunterhalt and Räumungsfamilienunterhalt,” 6 Aug. 1945 (HstAD: NW 42–146). 71. Military government note, dated 24 June 1940, from Hitler’s headquarters (AN: 40 AJ/1367). In reality, the Germans sought undisputed control of mines and other industries in the area, which they saw as a convenient jumping-off point for an invasion of Britain. 72. The Germans argued that the French were using displaced people “as a means of bringing political pressure to bear against the demarcation line as a whole.” German representative for refugee issues, file note, 10 Nov. 1940 (AN: 40 AJ/1367). This file and AN: 41 AJ/347–350 confirm that the Germans manipulated the demarcation line to ensure French cooperation. Nicole Dombrowski argues that the new French state used discussions about refugees to negotiate “power-sharing” with the Germans and viewed orderly repatriation as a means to bolster legitimacy. See Dombrowski, “Beyond,” 317ff. 73. French government statistics reveal that as late as February 1944, 150,000 people from the northern restricted zone had not been allowed to return home. There were 196,700 displaced Alsacians and Lorrainers living in France at this time, some of whom had been expelled by the Germans. Others had left of their own accord or been evacuated by the French in 1939–40. Figures in a note of 15 Aug. 1944 (AN: 41 AJ/347). 74. Ministry of the Interior circular, 27 Nov. 1940 (AN: F 23/234). 75. AN: 41 AJ/350. 76. Letter, sous-préfet of Cherbourg to préfet of Manche [ca. 31 Dec. 1941] (AD Manche: 3 Z//68). 77. About 30 percent of secondary school students left Le Havre, but the academic inspector for the region thought “The vast majority of the parents who sent their children away before March 1943 simply wanted to get rid of them cheaply.” A. Famin, “Rapport sur les mesures d’évacuations imposées par les circonstances dans le département de la Seine-Inférieure,” 4 June 1943 (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0339). Some Cherbourg children were evacuated after a raid in September 1941, but soon returned home. Souspréfet’s report on air raid protection measures for Cherbourg, ca. 20 Feb. 1942 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 78. Measures were to be small-scale and local, focusing on children specifically. DR circular, 27 Nov. 1941 (AD Manche: 3 Z/67). 79. Quoted in Florentin, Quand les Alliés, 47–48. 80. DR circular, 3 Apr. 1942 (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0339). 81. The allowance was based on a departmental average salary from which other allowances (family allocations, etc.) were also calculated. 82. As of July 1942, a relocation allowance was available to evacuees who moved within their home city but did not qualify for the normal allowance. Evacuees moving

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further away received free transportation for themselves, 50 kg. of luggage, and basic furniture. DR circular, 3 Apr. 1942 (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0339); Second appendix to DR circular, 29 July 1942 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 83. DR circulars of 27 Nov. 1941 and 23 Mar. 1942 (AD Manche: 3 Z/67). 84. Appendix one, DR circular, 2 Apr. 1943 (AD Eure: 1290 W/65). 85. DR circular, 3 Apr. 1942 (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0339). 86. See Table 3.3. DR circular, 3 Apr. 1942 (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0339). 87. See chapter 2. 88. Pétain warned préfets that evacuations between zones, “separate children from their families for indeterminate lengths of time because of the lack of certainty of obtaining a laissez-passer.” Letter, 1 July 1942 (AD Seine-Maritime: 1408 W/520). 89. Inspection Académique de la Seine-Inférieure, “Evacuation des enfants d’age scolaire du Havre (2 à 14 ans),” n.d. [prior to Apr. 1943] (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0378); DR circular, 27 Nov. 1941 (AD Manche: 3 Z/67). 90. The preamble to the new guidelines of 1 February 1944 specifically linked the 1943 rules to the bombing of Lorient, a German submarine base (AN: F 23/236). See chapter 5. 91. DR circular, 2 Apr. 1943 (AD Eure: 1290 W/65). 92. DR circular, 11 Aug. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/67). 93. Appendix one, DR circular, 2 Apr. 1943 (AD Eure: 1290 W/65). 94. Appendix one, DR circular, 2 Apr. 1943 (AD Eure: 1290 W/65). 95. DR circular, 2 May 1943 (AD Seine-Maritime: 1408 W/520). 96. DR circular, 1 Feb. 1944 (AN: F 23/236). 97. See chapter 2. 98. See chapter 2. 99. Garric believed, for instance, that “a propaganda campaign in favour of the Maréchal, realized through the intermediary of the Secours National and the Entr’aide d’Hiver, may be carried out in the most favourable conditions.” Garric, n.d. [ca. 1940–41] (AN: 2 AG/500). There is also evidence of a kernel of resistance within the Secours National, organized by Henri Sirolle and Raoul Dautry. Dautry became head of the Secours National’s successor, the Secours Social, at the Liberation. See letter, Sirolle to Dautry, 17 May 1943 (AN: 307 AP 161); Kulok, “Trait,” 194–215; Le Crom, “Philanthropie,” 233–34. 100. Marcel Déat, “Solidaires dans l’épreuve,” L’Oeuvre, 20 Oct. 1940, and Jacques Doriot, “Le Secours d’Hiver,” Le Cri du Peuple, 20 Oct. 1940; Report on Secours National and Entr’aide d’Hiver, 15 Mar. 1941 (AD Cantal: 419 F/4). Maurice Delaunay, member of parliament during the Third Republic, now head of the pro-Nazi organization Le Feu, wrote to the German embassy in Paris in 1940 about a winter-aid organization. He suggested that funding should be taken from the Jews in France, using anti-Semitic rhetoric that later was recycled as part of the “justification” for the use of spoliated property by C.O.S.I, described in chapter 6. On Delaunay, see AA: Paris 1301; Pascal Ory, Les collaborateurs: 1940–1945 (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1976), 92. Though there is debate about whether the idea for an Entr’aide d’Hiver originated with the French or Germans, the project was realized through cooperation between the two. Cf. Kulok, “Trait,” 90; Le Crom, “Philanthropie,” 233. On the Winterhilfswerk, see Herwart Vorländer, “NS-Volkswohlfahrt und Winterhilfswerk des deutschen Volkes,” Vierteljahreshefte für Zeitgeschichte 34, no. 3 (1986): 341–80.

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101. Gabriel Cognacq to Maréchal Pétain, 8 Feb. 1942 (AN: 2 AG/500). 102. N.d., “Liste des Membres du Comité d’Action” (AN: 2 AG/500). In January 1941, the Entr’aide d’Hiver’s René Dommange wrote to Henri du Moulin de Labarthete that the group’s Action Committee had been made up “to respond to the offer made by the German authorities to collaborate in the winter relief societies, and to establish a liaison with them in this regard that had not been established with the Secours National. The occupation authorities have not … manifested the desire to break this tie, nor made it known that the Action Committee, in its present form, had ceased to have their confidence” (AN: 2 AG/500). 103. Cognacq to Pétain, 8 Feb. 1942 (AN: 2 AG/500). The original (“Secours d’Hiver, Secours d’Hitler!”) plays on the similarity between the French word for winter and Hitler’s name. In fact, the Entr’aide d’Hiver was never officially called the “Secours d’Hiver,” although this closely resembled the German term, Winterhilfswerk. Déat and Doriot had also called for a “Secours d’Hiver” in 1940. German articles on the Entr’aide d’Hiver referred to it as the French Winterhilfswerk. Cf. “Französisches Winterhilfswerk,” Völkischer Beobachter, 12 Nov. 1940: 104. Cognacq to Pétain, 8 Feb. 1942 (AN: 2 AG/500). The use of the word “finally” suggests that Cognacq had long aspired to closer collaboration with the NSV. A handwritten draft of this note in the same file shows that the words “private” and “yet” were added to the final version of the message, presumably to emphasize Cognacq’s discretion and to downplay the importance of the initiative, in case Pétain or others objected to it. 105. Cognacq to Pétain, 8 Feb. 1942 (AN: 2 AG/500). Head of the department store La Samaritaine, Cognacq worked with the Germans, yet remained “French” enough to serve as the Secours National’s voice in the Entr’aide d’Hiver (AN: 2 AG/500). He had been one of many commercialists of the 1920s and 1930s enthusiastic about Franco-German reconciliation, who sought to ally “la grande commerce,” liberalism, and the idea of a unified Europe centered on France and Germany. Laurence Badel, Un milieu libéral et européen: Le grand commerce français 1925–1948 (Paris: Comité pour l’histoire économique et financière de la France, Ministère de l’Économie, des Finances et de l’Industrie, 1999), 9–17, 291. On accommodation and collaboration, see Paxton, Vichy France. 106. These accusations are summarized by Garric in a report, “Risques Actuels du Secours National,” 2 June, 1942 (AD Cantal: 419 F/4). 107. On C.O.S.I.’s origins, see chapter 6; AA: Paris 1307; AA: Paris 1122. Marcel Déat later claimed C.O.S.I. had been Otto Abetz’s idea. Marcel Déat, Mémoires Politiques (Paris: Editions Denoël, 1989), 664; Jean-Paul Cointet, Marcel Déat: du socialisme au national-socialisme (Paris: Perrin, 1998). 108. See chapter 6. C.O.S.I. also received 50,000 francs from the Norwegian Red Cross and another 5 million from the Paris press, as reported in “La mission silencieuse et héroïque du Comité ouvrier de secours immédiat,” Jeunesse (Paris), 2 Aug. 1942. See also BA: NS 5/VI/27096. 109. Kulok suggests that the Secours National preferred “to leave the distribution of pecuniary help to the C.O.S.I. perhaps to exhaust their resources first” (162), but German sources show that the decision was not the Secours National’s to make. The Germans encouraged C.O.S.I. to distribute money from confiscated Jewish property “in order to show the French population that, in accordance with National Socialist attitudes, confis-

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cated Jewish property is returned to precisely the worst-off members of the French population.” (Germany embassy to German Military Commander in France, 27 Jan. 1943, AA: Paris 1307). C.O.S.I’s provision of ready cash to bomb victims was more appealing, and did more to encourage a pro-German attitude, than the distribution of used furniture by the Secours National. See also Meeting of Comité de Direction, Secours National minutes, 16 Feb. 1943 (AD Cantal: 419 F/7); “Un accord entre le C.O.S.I. et le Secours National,” L’Atelier, 3 July 1943 and “Le C.O.S.I. a réuni les représentants de ses 140 comités locaux…,” L’Atelier, 17 July 1943. René Mesnard, president of C.O.S.I., was also director of l’Atelier, a collaborationist workers’ paper bringing together a group of people who sought to substitute their action for that of the banned Confédération Générale du Travail. See BA: NS 5/VI/27098, and Ory, Collaborateurs, 141. 110. See chapter 2. German newspapers occasionally published articles about French civilian relief, and the Deutsche Arbeitsfront collected newspaper clippings about the Secours National and C.O.S.I. Fritz Stein, “Frankreichs Jugend und der Luftterror: SchutzMaßnahmen des Französischen Unterrichtsministers,” Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, 8 Oct. 1943 (BA: NS 5/VI/27095); BA: NS 5/VI/27095 through 27098. 111. Pétain to Pichat, 17 Jan. 1941 (AA: Paris 1301). 112. AA: Paris 1122 and 1307; correspondence between Militärbefehlshaber’s staff and the embassy, 3 and 23 Apr. 1941 (AA: Paris 1301). 113. Cognacq to Pétain, 8 Feb. 1942 (AN: 2 AG/500). 114. Internal note, 29 Nov. 1943 (AA: Paris 1301). 115. Otto Abetz, German ambassador in Paris to the German Foreign Office, Berlin, 20 Dec. 1943 (AA: Paris 1301). 116. Board of directors’ meeting minutes, 1 June 1944 (AD Cantal: 419 F/10). German approval was given as early as February 1944, but arrangements were not finalized until June. Correspondence between Paris embassy and German Foreign Office (AA: Paris 1301). 117. Less pliant board members may have been trying to stall the trip completely, but I have found no additional evidence to support this conclusion. Board of directors’ meeting minutes, 1 June 1944 (AD Cantal: 419 F/10). 118. A 24 February 1944 letter to the embassy from the NSV propaganda office suggested that, “Given the present transportation situation,” the trip should be restricted to Berlin, the Gaue of Vienna, Salzburg, and München-Oberbayern. The hardest-hit western German regions were left out (AA: Paris 1301). 119. German embassy in Paris to German Foreign Office, 26 July 1944, following a draft of 22 June 1944 (AA: Paris 1301). 120. French documents report nothing about the trip itself. It appears only in the minutes of the board of directors’ meeting suggesting that it be postponed. 121. Gregor, “Schicksalsgemeinschaft,” 1057, 1064.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 4 1. Toni G. to Joseph Goebbels, 28 Oct. 1944 (BA: R 55/591). 2. By the late summer of 1943, the Reich Statistics Office estimated that there were nearly 3 million evacuees in Germany (BA: R 3102/44). In France, reliable statistics are

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harder to ascertain, but the government reported in February 1944 that there were about 1 million evacuees of all kinds in the country (AN: 41 AJ/347). 3. Jill Stephenson points out that despite problems, “the vast majority of those instructed to move to the countryside did so.” Stephenson, Württemberg, 300. 4. Emphasis in the original, SD-report of 15 July 1943 (BA: R 58/186). Cf. Gregor, “Schicksalsgemeinschaft,” 1061. 5. Goebbels to Gauleiter, circular, 28 June 1943 (BA: NS 37/1010; BA: R 36/2607). 6. Recker, “Wohnen,” 416. 7. “In Haft genommen! Wir dulden keine Saboteure! Er verweigerte die Aufnahme bombengeschädigter Volksgenossen,” WLZ, 10 June 1943. 8. Circular Nr. 166/43, 2 Dec. 1943 (StAM: NSV 650). Composer Richard Strauss was apparently among those unwilling to billet evacuees. The Party Chancellory requisitioned Strauss’ guesthouse and 19-room villa at Garmisch-Partenkirchen and warned leading members of the party not to associate with individuals who had refused requisition orders. Strauss explained to Hitler that he had wanted to protect his artistic treasures, but the requisition stood. Joseph Goebbels, Die Tagebücher, ed. Elke Fröhlich, Part II: Diktate 1941–1945, Vol. 11: Jan.–Mar. 1944, ed. Dieter Marc Schneider (München: K.G. Sauer, 1987–96), 102; correspondence in BA: R 43 II/668b. 9. Friedrich Percyval Reck-Malleczewen, Tagebuch eines Verzweifelten (Berlin: J.H.W. Dietz Nachf., 1981), 163. 10. SD-report, 19 Aug. 1943 (BA: R 58/187). 11. Propagandadienst der NSDAP Steiermark, Hauptamt für Volkswohlfahrt, Apr. 1944 (StAM: NSV 700). 12. One evacuee commented after the war that, “I got a lot of help and support from the NSV that existed then. In this way the national community [Volksgemeinschaft] was actually realized in practice during the war.” Quoted in Sibylle Meyer and Eva Schulze, Auswirkung des II. Weltkriegs auf Familien: Zum Wandel der Familie in Deutschland, vol. 18, Soziologische Forschungen (Berlin: Institut für Soziologie der Technischen Universität Berlin, 1989), 217. On the effectiveness of Party responses to air raids, and whether or not bombing reinforced the national community, see Gregor, “Schicksalsgemeinschaft,” 1051–70; Nolzen, “Sozialismus,” 57–69. 13. Secours National director of propaganda and documentation to regional delegates, instructions, Feb. 1944 (ADP: 24 W/11). 14. “Refusal to submit to a requisition” was a punishable offence following Art. 31 of the law of 11 July 1938, modified by the decree of 1 Sept. 1939 (AD Orne: 2 W/15). 15. Emphasis in original. Second draft of plans for “A Bras Ouverts” program, Secours National, Feb. 1944 (ADP: 24 W/11). 16. SD-report, 15 July 1943 (BA: R 58/186). See also SD-report, 19 Aug. 1943 (BA: R 58/187). 17. “Le Secours National fait le bilan de son action en faveur des sinistrés: mais la solidarité compagnards-citadins laisse encore à désirer: ce qui est avant tout un problème d’autorité et d’unité de direction,” La France Socialiste, 27–29 May, 1944 (BA: NS 5/VI/27097). 18. DR, Housing and Employment Division, note to the DR at Vichy, 16 Dec. 1943 (AN: F 23/234) and sous-préfet of Andelys to préfet of Seine-Inférieure (AD Seine-Maritime: 1290 W/65).

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19. SD-report of 21 Oct. 1943, BA: R 58/189. 20. Préfet of Manche, report, 3 Mar. 1944 (AN: 41 AJ/376). See also, “En pleine terre les matelots du Portel rêvent encore des horizons marins … depuis plusieurs mois, ils ont quitté leur cité rasée par les bombardements anglo-américains,” La France Socialiste, 6 Jan. 1944 (copy of article in Deutsche Arbeitsfront collection of newspaper clippings about France, BA: NS 5/VI/27095). 21. HstAD: RW 23/123. 22. See chapter 2. 23. Dietrich, “Protestants,” 579–601. 24. SD-report, 30 Sept. 1943 (BA: R 58/188). On church opposition to evacuation programs, see Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 277–306; Wolfgang Franz Werner, ‘Bleib übrig!’: Deutsche Arbeiter in der nationalsozialistischen Kriegswirtschaft, ed. Hans-Joachim Behr et al., vol. 9, Düsseldorfer Schriften zur Neueren Landesgeschichte und zur Geschichte Nordrhein-Westfalens (Düsseldorf: Schwann, 1983), 268. 25. Schirach, quoted in USSBS II 40, 184. 26. The editor of the diaries chose the pseudonym. Dorothee Wierling, “‘Leise versinkt unser Kinderland’: Marion Lubien schreibt sich durch den Krieg,” in Überleben im Krieg: Kriegserfahrungen in einer Industrieregion 1939–1945, ed. Ulrich Borsdorf and Mathilde Jamin (Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1989), 77. 27. Circular Nr. 35 of 5 Mar. 1943; SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 28. Sous-préfet of Cherbourg to préfet of Manche, 6 Feb. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 29. Published circulars of Ministries of the Interior and Finance, 30 Nov. 1939 and 25 July 1942 (BA: R 1501/1414 and HstAD: RW 53/723). 30. An evacuee who worked for less received enough allowance to make up the sum he or she had received before, plus 25 percent. As an incentive, part of the allowance for breadwinners or their families continued to be paid throughout the occupation even when an evacuee had employment income. Préfet of Calvados to mayors, 15 Apr. 1940 (AD Calvados: X 1761/2). 31. Artur S. identified himself as “a German worker.” The letter came through the military post, and so S. was also a soldier, but he styled his complaints as those of a worker. Letter dated 26 Aug. 1944 (BA: R 1501/1419). Cf. Steinert, Hitler’s War, 126, 230–31. 32. GLAKHE 465d/906 and BA: NS 45/91. 33. Pollard, Reign, 153. On women’s employment during the occupation, see Diamond, Women, 42–48. 34. Martin Kitchen, Nazi Germany at War (New York: Longman, 1995), 141. 35. Report, 4 Sept. 1943, GLAKHE 465d/906; see also BA: NS 45/91. Liaison officers are discussed below. 36. Report, 4 Sept. 1943, GLAKHE 465d/906. 37. Report, 4 Sept. 1943, GLAKHE 465d/906. 38. Deutscher Gemeindetag report on a meeting at the Ministry of the Interior on 18 Apr. 1944 (BA: R 36/2607). 39. Deutscher Gemeindetag report, 23 May 1944 (BA: R 36/2607). 40. Reichssstatthalter Salzburg to Ministry of the Interior, 4 June 1944 (BA: R 1501/1418). One evacuated woman wrote to the local authorities to say that her RM 123 allowance sufficed. She did not need the extra RM 44 she had been offered because

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of changes in the regulations and asked that it be turned over to the NSV. Dorothea K. to Landrat of Templin region (BA: R 1501/1420). 41. One wonders how evacuated women could be distinguished from others in first class. Deutscher Gemeindetag report on a meeting at the Ministry of the Interior on 18 Apr. 1944 (BA: R 36/2607). 42. Municipality of Gera, family allowance office, to Reichsstatthalter in Thüringen, 8 July 1943 (BA: R 1501/1414). 43. Artur S., letter, 26 Aug. 1944 (BA: R 1501/1419). 44. Deutscher Gemeindetag, minutes of meeting 18 Apr. 1944 and draft information report for May 1944 (BA: R 36/2607). 45. Ministry of the Interior, draft circular “Ausführung des Räumungs-Familienunterhalts,” October 1944, and notes regarding the draft (BA: R 1501/1365). 46. NSV Baden, circular, 5 Jan. 1943 (GLAKHE 465d/908). 47. Feldkommandant to préfet of Manche, 17 Mar. 1944 (AD Manche: Z68). 48. See chapter 5 on the French position regarding homemakers. 49. Sous-préfet of Vire (Calvados) to mayors, 1 Apr. 1940 (AD Calvados: 3 Z/2853). 50. See correspondence on this matter from early April 1940 (AD Calvados: 3 Z/2853). 51. Heineman, What difference, 44, 54. See also Steinert, Hitler’s War, 230–31. 52. Emphasis in the original, Circular Nr. 50/43 of 3 June 1943 (BA: NS 45/91). 53. Toni G. describes Frau P. simply as a dear friend. Both women had been married and had children, but the landlord’s jealous reaction may suggest that he thought this was more than just a close friendship. Regardless of Toni G’s actual situation, Heineman notes more generally that, “The predominantly female environment [of wartime Germany] enabled lesbian contacts and relationships with women who otherwise lived as heterosexuals.” This was surely as true of evacuees as it was of other women. Heineman, What difference, 54. 54. Meyer and Schulze, Auswirkung, 214. 55. Correspondence on the case, May and June 1944 (GLAKHE 465d/917). 56. NSV Bühl (Baden) to NSV Strasbourg, 1 July 1943 (GLAKHE: 465d/916). 57. Undated pamphlet, to be attached to evacuees’ papers, Gauleitung NSDAP Wartheland: Gauamt für Volkstumsfragen, “Deutscher aus den luftgefährdeten Gebieten!” (StAM: NSV 651). Evacuees were reminded that, “one can represent the honour of one’s homeland nowhere better than abroad.” Gau Westfalen-Süd’s representative in Baden to district and town helpers, 8 Feb. 1944 (GLAKHE 465d/907). 58. Letter of 9 Oct. 1943 (StAM: Gauleitung Westfalen-Süd, 16). See chapter 6. 59. StAM: NSV 1159. 60. Another similar case can be found in GLAKHE: 465d/910. 61. Elizabeth Heineman’s work suggests that German attitudes in the prewar period resembled those in France and that the wartime absence of so many men led to the radicalization of policy toward married women in Germany. Heineman, What difference, 54. 62. Fishman, We Will Wait, 131–34. See also Diamond, Women, 82–86; Hélène Eck, “French Women under Vichy,” in Toward a Cultural Identity in the Twentieth Century, ed. Françoise Thébaud, A History of Women in the West (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1994), 206–9.

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63. See note from Inspector Radde, 21 Oct. 1943 (AD Eure: 1290 W/65). 64. GLAKHE 465d/907. 65. “Gauleiter Albert Hoffmann bei den Umquartierten in Baden: Neue Maßnahmen der Versorgung und Betreuung” WLZ 16/17 Oct. 1943; “Der Gauleiter brachte die Grüße der Heimat: Bundes Mosaik von seinem Besuch bei den umquartierten Frauen und Kindern in Baden,” WLZ, 22 Oct. 1943; Liason officer Spratte, Circular Nr. 6, 20 Oct. 1943 (GLAKHE 465d/907). See also Fig. 5.1. 66. “Arbeitsrichtlinien für die Gaubeauftragen,” ca. 24 June 1943 (StAM: Gauleitung Westfalen-Süd 16). 67. “Arbeitsrichtlinien für die Gaubeauftragen,” ca. 24 June 1943 (StAM: Gauleitung Westfalen-Süd 16). 68. “Arbeitsrichtlinien für die Gaubeauftragen,” ca. 24 June 1943 (StAM: Gauleitung Westfalen-Süd 16). 69. GLAKHE: 465d/907; Robert Gellately, The Gestapo and German Society: Enforcing Racial Policy, 1933–1945 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990), 134. This change coincided with the demonstration by angry evacuees at Witten examined in chapter 5. “Vertrauensmänner” was also a term for local authority figures in the Catholic Center Party during the Wilhelmine and Weimar eras. 70. “Arbeitsrichtlinien für die Gaubeauftragen,” ca. 24 June 1943 (StAM: Gauleitung Westfalen-Süd 16); Kreisverbindungsmann to Gauamtsleiter Spratte, 16 Aug. 1943 (GLAKHE: 465d/906). 71. Emphasis in the original. Gau Westfalen-Süd’s representative in Baden to Kreisand Ortshelferinnen, 8 Feb. 1944 (GLAKHE 465d/907). 72. Emphasis in the original. Gau Westfalen-Süd’s representative in Baden to Kreisand Ortshelferinnen, 8 Feb. 1944 (GLAKHE 465d/907). 73. Abbé Lebas to sous-préfet of Cherbourg, report, 5 June 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 74. Fish was available at least until the Germans restricted fishing. J.-F. Hamel, Croix Gammées sur le Cotentin (Coutances: Imprimerie OCEP, 1974), 59. 75. AD Manche: 3 Z/68. 76. On inspectors, see AD Eure 1290 W/65 and AN: F 23/234. 77. Civilians themselves occasionally formed local associations for bombed-out people, as at Lorient, where the association fought to remain independent of C.O.S.I. Jacqueline Sainclivier, La Bretagne de 1939 à nos jours (Rennes: Editions Ouest-France, 1989), 75. 78. Gauleiter’s representative Overhues, Düsseldorf to Party Chancellery, 8 Oct. 1942 (BA: R 43 II/667). 79. BA: R 43 II/667 and 668. See also Hampe, Zivile Luftschutz, 607ff. 80. BA: R 55/447. 81. Lammers to Bormann, 11 Dec. 1942 (BA: R 43 II/667). 82. Founding decree, 24 Feb. 1943, signed by Laval (AN: 41 AJ/356). 83. Overhues, speech to Robert Ley, 2 Oct. 1942 (BA: R 43 II/667). 84. Overhues, speech to Robert Ley, 2 Oct. 1942 (BA: R 43 II/667). 85. SD-report, 9 Sept. 1943 (BA: R 58/188). 86. SD-reports, 15 and 29 Dec. 1939 (BA: NS 58/146).

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87. The counsellor thought children’s own misbehaviour and homesickness was mainly to blame, for they wrote exaggerated letters to their parents, asking to be brought back home. Report of trip from 12–22 July 1943 (Stadtarchiv Essen: 45/4035). For Nuremberg, see Gregor, “Schicksalsgemeinschaft,” 1062–63. 88. The total number of Hamburg evacuees at this point is difficult to determine. Recker writes simply that “over 620,000 (of 1,420,000) inhabitants moved away, were evacuated, or died in the bombardments” of July and August 1943. Recker, “Wohnen,” 411 and USSBS IV 64b, 85. 89. BA: R 3102/44. 90. Werner, Bleib übrig, 270. Statistics typically include only the total number of evacuees in a given reception area, whether or not these evacuees received state support, and sometimes their region of origin. Since the overall number of evacuees rose steadily throughout the war, it is impossible to tell whether, for every 100 new evacuees, perhaps 20 or 30 “older” ones returned home. See AN: 41 AJ/347; BA: R 3201/44; USSBS II 40. 91. Secours National representative Mlle. Bernot, inspection report about Manche, 17 Dec. 1943 (AD Cantal: 419 F/50). 92. AD Eure: 1290 W/65.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 5 1. Ministry of the Interior documents on mayors’ and party representatives’ conference, Posen, 12–14 Feb. 1944 (BA: R 1501/3523). 2. “Das Problem der Evakuierung luftkriegsgefährdeter Städte,” speech at mayors’ and party representatives’ conference, Posen, 12–14 Feb. 1944 (BA: R 1501/3523). 3. Himmler, speech at mayors’ and party representatives’ conference, Posen, 12–14 Feb. 1944 (BA: R 1501/3523). 4. Speech by Frick, 13 May 1934, quoted in Lisa Pine, Nazi Family Policy 1933–1945 (Oxford: Berg, 1997): 8. 5. Similarly, soldiers’ wives’ identification with the Volksgemeinschaft was meant to compensate for their husbands’ absence. See Gerda Szepansky,‘Blitzmädel’, ‘Heldenmutter’, ‘Kriegerwitwe’: Frauenleben im Zweiten Weltkrieg, Die Frau in der Gesellschaft, 3700 (Frankfurt am Main: Fisher, 1986), 14. On the limitations of “community” in wartime, see Gregor, “Schicksalsgemeinschaft,” 1051–70. 6. Hartmut Kaelble characterized social policy in the two countries before 1945 as “a French social policy, sceptical of the state, built on mutual-aid societies and voluntary insurances, strongly oriented toward frugality with public funds; and the German social insurances, built on compulsory membership, strongly centralized, state-run, and at the same time expensive for the state.” Heinz-Gerhard Haupt has noted that an understanding based on these ideal-types can limit the recognition of similarities and relationships, but he also points to the importance of these opposed images for the “self-legitimation complex of the individual societies.” Haupt, “Bemerkung,” 209; Kaelble, Nachbarn, 214. 7. de Grazia, Fascism, 113–14. 8. Cf. Gregor, “Schicksalsgemeinschaft,” 1062. 9. Pollard, Reign. See also Francine Muel-Dreyfus, Vichy and the Eternal Feminine: A Contribution to the Political Sociology of Gender, trans. Kathleen A. Johnson (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2001).

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10. Karen Offen, review of Reign of Virtue: Mobilizing Gender in Vichy France by Miranda Pollard, American Historical Review 105 (Oct. 2000): 104. For a nuanced discussion of French women during World War II, see Diamond, Women. 11. Hélène Eck, following Françoise Thébaud, notes that in 1930s France, “the ideal of woman as mother, wife, and homemaker was widely shared, even on the left.” Françoise Thébaud, Quand nos grand-mères donnaient la vie: La maternité en France dans l’entre-deuxguerres (Lyon: Presses Universitaires de Lyon, 1986), cited in Eck, “French Women,” 202. Tim Mason argued in the 1970s that German women’s employment was unpleasant and poorly enough remunerated that “the role of the housewife really did seem preferable to most women.” Tim Mason, “Women in Germany, 1925–1940: Family, Welfare and Work,” in Nazism, Fascism and the Working Class, ed. Jane Caplan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). 12. An earlier version of this case study was published as “’If only family unity can be maintained’: The Witten protest and German civilian evacuations,” German Studies Review 29.2 (May 2006): 347–366. 13. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 14. Goebbels to Gauleiter, letter, 28 Jan. 1944 (BA: R 55/447). 15. de Grazia, Fascism, 114. 16. Hans Boberach, ed., Meldungen aus dem Reich: Auswahl aus dem geheimen Lageberichten des Sicherheitsdienstes der SS 1939–1944 (Berlin: Luchterhand, 1965), 451–53. Sources for the demonstration are scant, and so historians rely on the SD-report (BA: R 58/190). This approach is less problematic when one seeks to understand how the regime perceived the demonstration and responded to it, rather than focusing on the event itself. 17. Richard Evans, “German Women and the Triumph of Hitler,” Journal of Modern History 48, no. 1 (1976). 18. Martina Kliner-Lintzen, “Rathaus Witten: Unmut oder Widerstand?,” in Wittener Frauengeschichte(n): Dokumentation anläßlich einer frauengeschichtlichen Stadtrundfahrt, eds. Beate Brunner and Martine Kliner-Lintzen (Witten: Laube, 1990); Sybil Milton, “Women and the Holocaust: The Case of German and German-Jewish Women,” in When Biology became Destiny: Women in Weimar and Nazi Germany, eds. Renate Bridenthal, et al. (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1984), 319. 19. As part of historians’ movement away from a traditional understanding of resistance, Peukert included the demonstration under the rubric of “Widerstand.” Peukert, Ruhrarbeiter, 310; Werner, Bleib übrig, 272. Following Ian Kershaw, I refer to low-level activity like the Witten demonstration as opposition or dissent, terms more satisfactory than Resistenz essentially because the latter suggests more formal, principled opposition to the regime than was manifested at Witten. See also Broszat, “Nach Hitler,” 68–91; Dipper, “Schwierigkeiten,” 409–16; Gregor, “Politics,” especially 665; Kershaw, Nazi Dictatorship, ch. 8; Stephenson, “Resistance,” 507–16; Stoltzfus, “Third Reich History,” 672–84. 20. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 186–87. 21. Sollbach, “Mütter.” 22. Olaf Groehler, Bombenkrieg gegen Deutschland (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1990), 275. 23. Heinrich Schoppmeyer, Über 775 Jahre Witten: Beiträge zur Geschichte der Stadt Witten, vol. 2 (Meinerzhagen: Meinerzhagener, 1989), 75; Wilfried Beer, Kriegsalltag an der Heimatfront: Alliierter Luftkrieg und deutsche Gegenmaßnahmen zur Abwehr und Scha-

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densbegrenzung, dargestellt für den Raum Münster (Bremen: H.M. Hauschild, 1990); Norbert Krüger, “Die Bombenangriffe auf das Ruhrgebiet im Frühjahr 1943,” in Ueber Leben im Krieg: Kriegserfahrungen in einer Industrieregion: 1939–1945, eds. Ulrich Borsdorf and Mathilde Jamin (Reinbek bei Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1989), 91–92. 24. Circular, 19 Apr. 1943 (StAM: NSV 648: 2). See chapter 3. 25. The first two reception areas are noted in the Ministry of the Interior circular of 19 Apr. 1943 (see Table 3.2). A more detailed plan, 1 July 1943, adds Pomerania (StAM: NSV 648:2). 26. BA: R 1501/1415; Meeting of welfare officials at Mülheim/Ruhr, minutes, 30 Apr. 1943 (StAM: NSV 642); Oberregierungsrat Fischer, “Umquartierung der Bevölkerung vor und nach Luftangriffen,” Deutsche Verwaltung 21.5 (1944): 116. 27. The Reich Statistics Office claimed there were 3.29 million evacuees on 18 October 1943. By January 1944, this number had increased to about 3.34 million, and it continued to rise. No national statistics appear to have survived for the period before autumn 1943, but evacuations clearly grew enormously through the summer of 1943 (BA: R 3102/44). 28. SD-report, 30 Sept. 1940 (BA: R 58/154). About a week later, the SD again mentioned rumors, in Berlin and elsewhere, that the KLV was a “forced evacuation” (Zwangsevakuierung). Report of 7 Oct. 1940 (BA: R58/154); Kock, Kinderlandverschikkung, 11, 73–74. 29. Emphasis in the original, NSV document, 27 Sept. 40 (BA: NS 37/1004). 30. Minister of the Interior, circular, 27 July 1942 (BA: R1501/1413). 31. Letter from Stuckart to Goebbels, April 1943 (BA: R 1501/1415). 32. Emphasis in the original, Gauleitung Baden: NSV, Circular Nr. 71/43, 4 June 1943 (GLAKHE: 465d/908). These individuals were initially sent south as part of a short-term NSV “holiday” program for women and children subjected to aerial bombing. In August, the NSV in Baden declared that women with young children from Witten and neighbouring cities “do not count anymore as people who have been sent to take a cure [Verschickte], but as evacuees.” This change in status implied a more permanent displacement. NSV Kreis Schlettstadt note to NSV Ortsgruppen, 2 Aug. 1943 (BA: NS 45/104). 33. Whole school classes were evacuated from early in the summer of 1943 onward. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 214; Wilhelm Reeswinkel, “Wittener Kinder in der Kriegsheimat,” Jahrbuch des Vereins für Orts und Heimatkunde in der Grafschaft Mark 56 (1953), 122. 34. Groehler, Bombenkrieg, 274. See also Ch. 4 above. 35. Civilians felt the “calming of the aerial situation” spoke against evacuation. SDreport, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). Westfalen-Nord’s representative in Salzburg noted that evacuees typically returned home without permission either within a few weeks, or after three to four months in the reception areas. Report of 30 Oct. 1943 (STAM: NSV 649: 2). 36. Westfalen-Süd representative in Baden, Spratte, Circular, 14 Sept. 1943 (GLAKHE 465d/907); “Wichtige Mitteilung zur Umquartierung,”WLZ, 4 Oct. 1943. 37. The train system was overburdened due to military exigencies, but of course also because of the ongoing deportations of Jews and others. A temporary ban was placed on all nonessential trips in the Reich between 15 December 1943 and 3 January 1944.

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Joseph Goebbels, Die Tagebücher, ed. Elke Fröhlich, Part II: Diktate 1941–1945, Vol. 10: Oct.–Dec. 1943, ed. Volker Dahm (München: K.G. Sauer, 1994), 6 Nov. 1943, 240; 4 Dec. 1943, 418; Hilberg, Sonderzüge. 38. This case study focuses on sanctions used to keep Westfalen-Süd evacuees in Baden, though similar methods were tried elsewhere. Evacuees who returned home, regardless of the reason, were no longer eligible for the evacuees’ allowance, but since their expenses presumably also decreased, this was not a powerful incentive to stay in the reception areas (BA: R 1501/1419). 39. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 186, 220–25. 40. Circular Nr. 4, 31 Aug. 1943 (GLAKHE: 465d/907). 41. Hoffmann became Westfalen-Süd’s Gauleiter in June 1943, but had performed the duties associated with this position from January of that same year. Hermann Weiß, ed., Biographisches Lexicon zum Dritten Reich, 2nd ed. (Frankfurt am Main: S. Fischer, 1998), 238. His decision is recorded in a letter from 9 Oct. 1943 (StAM: Gauleitung Westfalen-Süd, 16). The order itself does not survive, though Spratte informed local liason officers in August 1943 about Hoffmann’s decision that, “Evacuees who return to the endangered or destroyed cities without sound reasons shall be issued no ration cards by the food offices responsible.” Hoffmann quoted in Spratte circular, 31 Aug. 1943, (GLAKHE: 465d/907). 42. Germans were aware that evacuees were treated more harshly in some Gaue than in others—resentment at this inconsistency fed the agitation at Witten (SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943, BA: R 58/190). 43. See discussion of Lorient below. 44. BA: R1501/1415. 45. BA: R 3001/2328. 46. SD-report, 9 Sept. 1943 (BA: R 58/188). 47. Spratte’s view that returns by women were irrational female behaviour was not unusual. Spratte, Circular Nr. 5, 14 Sept. 1943 (GLAKHE 465d/907). 48. The Nazis called certain types of criminals “Volksschädlinge” (pests on the body politic). An ordinance at the war’s onset specified that Volkschädlinge included those caught plundering the houses of bomb victims or thieving during a blackout. They could be subject to the death penalty. Gellately, Backing, 49, 183. Labelling unwilling evacuees “Schädlinge,” though not quite as harsh as “Volksschädlinge,” nonetheless implied that their behaviour was subversive and damaged the German war effort. The Westfälische Landeszeitung, the largest wartime Ruhrgebiet daily, was made available to Ruhr evacuees in the reception areas. See GLAKHE 465d/907; “Evakuierte!: Der Feind sucht euch zu treffen! Weshalb keine Marken für Rückkehrer?” WLZ, 18/19 Sept. 1943; “Wichtige Mitteilung zur Umquartierung,” WLZ, 4 Oct. 1943. 49. Hoffmann to local officials responsible for evacuation measures, 9 Oct. 1943 (StAM: Gauleitung Westfalen-Süd, 16); Sollbach, “Mütter,” 155; GLAKHE 465d/916. 50. Emphasis in the original, SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 51. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 52. Quarterly report, 6 Dec. 1943 to Reich Minister of Justice (BA: R 3001/3367). 53. SD-report, 18 Oct. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). Hoffmann’s letter of 9 October 1943 spelled out the “loophole”: “Those women who commit themselves freely to work service in their hometown can … return to their residences, but on condition that their school-

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age or younger children remain evacuated” (StAM, NSDAP Gauleitung Westfalen-Süd, 16). Spratte’s circular of 20 Oct. 1943 (GLAKHE: 465d/907) emphasized that women who agreed to take a job were welcome to return home. 54. I have been unable to uncover additional information about these other protests. 55. SD-report, 19 Aug. 1943 (BA: R 58/187). 56. Between 1920 and 1933, the SPD and KPD won about 50 percent of Witteners’ votes in Reich elections. Even in the election of 5 March 1933, the SPD had 27.6 percent and the KPD 15.7 percent, for a total of 43.3 percent of the votes. Centrist parties claimed another 13.9 percent of the votes, leaving 42.8 percent for the Right. The NSDAP won the rest, or 34.2 percent. Schoppmeyer, Witten, 64. 57. Groehler, Bombenkrieg, 276. On workers’ protest in the Third Reich, see note 17 above and Ulrich Herbert, “Arbeiterschaft im ‘Dritten Reich’: Zwischenbilanz und offene Fragen,” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 15 (1989); Klaus Witsotsky, Der Ruhrbergbau im Dritten Reich: Studien zur Sozialpolitik im Ruhrbergbau und zum sozialen Verhalten der Bergleute in den Jahren 1933 bis 1939, vol. 8, Düsseldorfer Schriften zur Neuern Landesgeschichte und zur Geschichte Nordrhein-Westfalens (Düsseldorf: Schwann, 1983). 58. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 59. For evacuees’ letters, see BA: R 55/591; BA: R 55/592; GLAKHE 465d/910. 60. Letter from Artur S., 26 Aug. 1944 (BA: R 1501/1419). 61. Westfalen-Nord’s representative in Gau Salzburg noted that, “The highest percentage of the returnees are mothers from the industrial area [i.e., the Ruhrgebiet]. The main explanation used … is that the men at home can not cater for themselves alone, or can not manage with their [ration] tickets.” (STAM: NSV 649: 2). 62. “Wer heizt für den heimkommenden Mann? Niemand wird frieren: Die Nachbarn helfen,” WLZ, 29 Sept. 1943: 5. Luftkriegsschädenausschuß, Bulletin Nr. 37, summarizes problems associated with the cooler weather, 8 Sept. 1943 (StAM: NSV 648:1). 63. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 64. An NSV representative in Baden felt that evacuees’ husbands should “show a little more discipline and a soldierly bearing and not constantly write whining letters, or threaten ‘if you don’t come, you’ll see what I do’.” Letter, 30 Oct. 1943 (GLAKHE 465d/916); see also StAM: NSV 1159. 65. Emphasis in the original, SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). A school authorities’ report on Esseners in Swabia and Tirol, 12–22 July 1943, also cites homesickness for family members as a main cause of “wild returns” (Stadtarchiv Essen: 45/4035). 66. Spratte to NSDAP Ortsgruppenleiter in Hüfingen, 3 Aug. 1943 (GLAKHE 495d/916). 67. It is not clear exactly how many Witteners were sent to Donaueschingen. Reeswinkel claimed to be responsible for 70 women and children from his school. Statistics from August 1943 show there were 1947 evacuees from Westfalen-Süd in the town, but do not give more specifically their origins. In August 1943, there were 77,653 evacuees from Westfalen-Süd in Baden: 17,009 mothers, 21,562 children under 6, 29,649 6–14 year-olds, 11,653 invalids and elderly, and 7,780 others (including teachers and liaison officers) (GLAKHE: 465d/914). 68. Since letters about Reeswinkel refer to him as “Herr,” not “Parteigenossen,” he was likely not a Nazi party member. His letters suggest that he had a strong traditional

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sense of morality and “honour.” From at least October 1943, he was not popular with Westfalen-Süd’s representative in the district, Jaeger, who claimed Reeswinkel, “continues to hold the viewpoint that not I, but only he himself, is responsible for caring for the Witteners.” Jaeger to Westfalen-Süd’s representative in Baden, Fischer, 10 Mar. 1944 (GLAKHE: 465d/919, and correspondence in GLAKHE: 465d/916). 69. On 3 March 1944, Jaeger wrote that “apparently in many instances, … the [Witten] women turn to [Reeswinkel] with their questions about vacations [i.e., trips home], and possibly leave following his advice, without my permission” (GLAKHE: 465d/919). Perhaps the same had been true the previous fall. Reeswinkel wrote about the Witten evacuations after the war, but without mentioning his own role or the protest. Reeswinkel, “Wittener,” 118–46. 70. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). Cf. Kershaw, Hitler Myth, 102–4, 211–12. 71. On the use of this terminology, see Ch. 5, note 19. 72. Davis, Home Fires. Kliner-Linzen and Milton refer to the demonstration as a kind of bread riot, while Evans notes similarities between this kind of “women’s protest” and those of peasants. Evans, “German Women,” 40; Kliner-Lintzen, “Rathaus Witten,” 319; Milton, “Women and Holocaust,” 45. Cf. Karen Hagemann, “Frauenprotest und Männerdemonstrationen: Zum geschlechts-spezifischen Aktionsverhalten im großstädtischen Arbeitermilieu der Weimarer Republik,” in Massenmedium Straße: Zur Kulturgeschichte der Demonstration, ed. Bernd Jürgen (Frankfurt am Main: Campus, 1991). 73. The precise location of the demonstration is not clear. Kliner-Linzen writes that it took place in front of the town hall, but the SD-report mentions no specific location. Still, the report notes that, “There were fierce scenes [scharfe Auftritte] in front of the municipal food offices [Ernährungsämter der Stadtverwaltung] in Hamm, Lünen and Bochum too,” so we can assume that the Witten incident also took place in front of the municipal food office, which in a smallish city would have been located inside the city hall. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190); Kliner-Lintzen, “Rathaus Witten,” 45. 74. One might point to Barrington Moore’s conclusion that the desire to revolt stems from a popular perception that the governors are not “playing fairly,” or that they have broken the social contract. Barrington Moore, Injustice: The Social Bases of Obedience and Revolt (White Plains: N.Y.: M.E. Sharpe, 1978), 509–10. 75. The SD noted that, “during the hours of waiting, those waiting exchange [stories of ] their experiences in the reception areas and at the same time the wildest claims are made.” Report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 76. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 77. Davis emphasizes that a sympathetic police reaction and press coverage treating women’s claims as rational and legitimate helped further the demands of Berlin’s “women of lesser means” during World War I. Davis, Home Fires, 99ff. 78. In a rather strident criticism of Nathan Stolzfus’ work, Christof Dipper warned against making “value judgements” about different types of anti-Nazi activities. Dipper, “Schwierigkeiten,” 415. Rather than rehearsing the debate about what “real” resistance is, what popular opposition achieved, or might have achieved had it been more widespread, I seek to explore why, within the larger context of consent for the Nazi regime, the protest at Witten struck a nerve. As Jill Stephenson notes, research on collaboration and

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resistance in the last fifty years has revealed that rather than stark black and white, “the predominant shade is grey.” Stephenson, “Resistance,” 508. 79. Kershaw, Popular Opinion, 356; Stoltzfus, Resistance, 260; Leugers, Berlin. 80. Kershaw, Popular Opinion, 345, 349–50; Stoltzfus, Resistance, 201. 81. Kershaw, Popular Opinion, 349. 82. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 83. SD-report, 10 Feb. 1944 (BA: R 58/192). 84. Tim Mason, “The Containment of the Working Class,” in Nazism, Fascism and the Working Class, ed. Jane Caplan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 273. 85. Cf. Davis, Home Fires, 112; Stoltzfus, Resistance, 258–65. 86. Westfalen-Nord’s representative in Salzburg noted that, “A telephone call … from … Dr. Goebbels on 12 Oct. 1943 requested information about measures that might be used to direct the wild returns of women from the reception areas.” The liaison officer responded that, “Certain coercive measures in evacuation are unavoidable” (report on evacuations in Gau Salzburg, 30 Oct. 1943, STAM: NSV 649: 2). 87. “Gauleiter Albert Hoffmann bei den Umquartierten in Baden: Neue Maßnahmen der Versorgung und Betreuung” WLZ 16/17 Oct. 1943, Nr. 242: 1; “Der Gauleiter brachte die Grüße der Heimat: Buntes Mosaik von seinem Besuch bei den umquartierten Frauen und Kindern in Baden,” WLZ, 22 Oct. 1943, Nr. 247: 3, and Circular Nr. 6 of liason officer Spratte, 20 Oct. 1943 (GLAKHE 465d/907). 88. Goebbels, Vol. 10, 21 Nov. 1943, 330. Goebbels hosted a meeting of various ministries’ secretaries of state regarding evacuations on 6 November 1943. Goebbels, Vol. 10, 7 Nov. 1943, 248. 89. Goebbels, Vol. 10, 2 Nov. 1943, 222. 90. Goebbels wrote nothing about the demonstration itself in his diary. Comments on 21 Nov. 1943, however, show that he had read the SD-report. Goebbels, Vol. 10, 330. 91. SD-report, 19 Aug. 1943 (BA: R 58/187). 92. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 93. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). 94. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190). The Witten action suggests that boundaries between “traditional” female protest and “organized” male protest are permeable. Cf. Hagemann, “Frauenprotest,” 215. De Grazia and Childers point out that organized male public protest may well result from private, female recognition of injustice. Kristen Stromberg Childers, “Paternity and the Politics of Citizenship in Interwar France,” Journal of Family History 26, no. 1 (2000): 104; de Grazia, Fascism, 113. In a similar way, male recognition of injustice can feed “spontaneous” female protest. 95. Hoffmann had been Goebbels’ second-in-command in the Reichsinspektion der zivilen Luftkriegsmaßnahmen, which was set up to keep an eye on civil defense and evacuations (see below). When he took sick, Goebbels wanted to replace him with Grohé, but Hitler made Grohé Reich Commissar for Occupied Belgium and Northern France. Goebbels, Vol. 11, 12 Jan. 1944, 77, and 25 Jan. 1944, 153. 96. “Bericht des Gauleiters Grohé über die Luftangriffe und ihre Folgen im Gau KölnAachen in den Monaten Januar und Februar 1943,” 5 Mar. 1943 (BA: R 3001/2308). 97. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190).

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98. “Das Problem der Evakuierung luftkriegsgefährdeter Städte,” Ministry of the Interior representative Jacobi, speech at mayors’ and party representatives’ conference, Posen, 12–14 Feb. 1944 (BA: R 1501/3523). 99. Himmler, speech at mayors’ and party representatives’ conference, Posen, 12–14 Feb. 1944 (BA: R 1501/3523). 100. This suggestion, apparently reflecting Hitler’s own view of the problem, was made in the minutes of a meeting of Cologne school directors, April 1943. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 225. 101. Bormann resurrected prewar rhetoric about standing fast and fighting to the death. Bormann draft, [fall] 1943 (BA: NS 25/1664). 102. Goebbels added that he was sure Hitler would decide whichever way Goebbels himself thought best. Goebbels, Vol. 11, 14 January 1944, 88–9. 103. The meeting took place 24 Jan. 1944. Goebbels, Vol. 11, 25 Jan. 1944, 165. 104. BA: R 55/447 and Goebbels, Vol. 11, 27 Jan. 1944, 182. Ration cards were denied to evacuees who returned without permission to Münster (Westfalen-Nord) in late 1944, but this was exceptional (see below). Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 187n171. 105. BA: R 55/447. 106. Hitler decree, 21 Dec. 1943, BA: R43 II/669d. See also BA: R 3001/2339. 107. Hampe, Zivile Luftschutz, 252. 108. “Das Problem der Evakuierung luftkriegsgefährdeter Städte,” speech at mayors’ and party representatives’ conference, Posen, 12–14 Feb. 1944 (BA: R 1501/3523). 109. Ministries of the Interior and Finance, decrees 16 Sept. 1941 (BA R 36/2607); 25 July 1942; (BA: RW 53/723), and 30 Oct. 1943 (BA: RW 53/723). 110. If the “working population [could] not be housed after air raids,” nonworkers could be evacuated. Decree 29 July 1944, quoted by Baden Minister of the Interior, 21 Aug. 1944 (GLAKHE 465d/1529). In January 1944, for instance, women and children living near the Dessauer Junkerwerke in Magdeburg were ordered to leave (BA: R 3001/2339). 111. A broadcast with this content was part of evening radio programming in Westfalen-Süd. Westfalen-Süd’s representative in Baden, Information sheet Nr. 9/44, 19 Aug. 1944 (GLAKHE 465d/907). 112. Bormann to Gauleiter’s representative Schlessman, 12 Oct. 1944 (StAM: NSV 650). 113. On the place of the “père de famille” in French society, see, for example, Childers, “Paternity,” 90–111; Diamond, Women, 21; Eck, “French Women,” 194–225; Susan Pedersen, Family, Dependence and the Origins of the Welfare State: Britain and France, 1914–1945 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), especially 361ff. 114. A male-centred family model nonetheless prevailed in Nazi Germany as well. For instance, “all family subsidies were payable not to wives and mothers, but to husbands and fathers.” Gisela Bock, “Nazi Gender Policies and Women’s History,” in Toward a Cultural Identity in the Twentieth Century, ed. Françoise Thébaud (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1994), 165. Allowances to soldiers’ wives and evacuees are a partial exception. Based on the male breadwinner’s salary, they were, for obvious reasons, paid directly to women. See Fourth executive order about evacuees’ family allowance, 30 Nov. 1939 (BA: 1501/1414). 115. See chapter 3.

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116. Report on DR liason with the German authorities, 21 June 1944 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 117. Tartakowsky, “Manifester,” 465, 477; and Danielle Tartakowsky, Le pouvoir est dans la rue: Crises politiques et manifestations en France (Paris: Aubier, 1998). See also Douzou, “Résistance,” 16–17. 118. Cherbourg’s position was only typical of coastal cities with large-scale Germanordered evacuations. The Germans were less interested in evacuations in the French interior, vulnerable to occasional bombing more than to invasion. With rare exceptions, these evacuations were organized and carried out entirely by the French, though the Germans sometimes interceded to recommend measures or to use the evacuations for propagandistic ends. 119. See AD Manche: série 3 Z, especially 3 Z/67 and 3 Z/68. There were at least six sous-préfets during the occupation: Coutanceau (to November 1940), Just (November 1940 to late November 1941), Moreigne (late December 1941 to March 1942), Dupiech (March to June 1942), Audigier (June 1942 to his arrest by the Gestapo 18 March 1944), and Bourdin (6 April 1944 to Liberation). Audigier was killed in prison in Saint-Lô during the Allied bombardments that accompanied the Liberation—bombardments that also destroyed the records of the préfet of Manche. Robert Lerouvillois, Et la liberté vint de Cherbourg 1940-44: La bataille logistique de la libération (Condé-sur-Noireau: Editions Corlet, 1987), 19. 120. Edmond Thin, Cherbourg: Bastion Maritime du Cotentin: Histoire, témoignages et documents (Condé-sur-Noireau: Editions Charles Corlet, 1990); Hamel, Croix Gammées. 121. Sous-préfet, “Rapport sur la Défense Passive de l’Agglomération Cherbourgeois,” ca. 20 Feb. 1942 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 122. Hamel, Croix Gammées, 40; Thin, Cherbourg, 164. 123. Czesany, Bombenkrieg, 536. 124. Préfet Lacombe, exposé at meeting of secretaries general of the French government in the occupied territories, 15 Apr. 1943 (AN: 41 AJ/356). See also Florentin, Quand les Alliés, chs. 9, 10. 125. AD Manche: 1012 W/132 and 3 Z/168; Hamel, Croix Gammées, 25. 126. AD Manche: 3 Z/168 and 3 Z/187; Czesany, Bombenkrieg, 538. 127. Note from sous-préfet to préfet, 6 Feb. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). See also souspréfet’s “Rapport sur la Défense Passive de l’Agglomération Cherbourgeois,” ca. 20 Feb. 1942 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68), and AD Manche: 3 Z/168. 128. Hamel, Croix Gammées, 58. Lorient’s French authorities were forbidden in 1941 to publicize children’s evacuations, though the préfet wrote in September 1941 that the evacuation of 3,141 children had been arranged, “without it being necessary to prescribe actual evacuation measures, which the local occupation authorities have thus far opposed.” Extract of préfet’s monthly report, 2 Sept. 1941 (AN: 41 AJ/347); confidential report on trip to Brest and Lorient, 5–7 July 1941, M. Legout, responsible for coastal evacuations at the DR (AN: F1a/3660). 129. Ministry of the Interior, DR circular, 27 [Nov.] 1941 (AD Seine-Maritime: 1408 W/520). 130. Sous-préfet of Cherbourg to préfet of Manche [ca. 31 Dec. 1941] (AD Manche: 3 Z/68).

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131. Emphasis in the original; Ministry of the Interior, DR circular to préfets of coastal departments, 29 July 1942 (AN: 41 AJ/350). All evacuations were to be negotiated through the central government, not ordered regionally by the Feldkommandanturen. Préfet of Manche to sous-préfet, 22 July 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/168); letters 6 Jan. 1942, 20 Feb. 1942, 27 Feb. 1942, 5 Mar. 1942, and report on air raid protection of Cherbourg, 20 Feb. 1942 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68); AM Cherbourg, boîte 2. 132. Ministry of the Interior, DR to préfets of coastal departments, circular, 29 July 1942 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 133. Sous-préfet of Cherbourg to mayors of greater Cherbourg, 7 Sept. 1942 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 134. In 1942, they did order small-scale evacuations elsewhere, for instance, at Dieppe and Le Havre, where 1,100 and 8,000 people, respectively, were ordered to leave. Préfet of Seine-Inférieure, monthly report, 4 May 1942 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 135. General Delegation of the French Government in the Occupied Territories to Direction of (French) armistice services, note, 2 Feb. 1943 (AN: 41 AJ/356). 136. AN: 41 AJ/356, and Gildea, Marianne, ch. 3. 137. Within Germany, the police had to be forbidden to carry out search operations and coercive measures against workers who had absconded. Local Meldeämter (registration offices) were to inform the city employment office about disobedient workers present in outlying communities, and “especially experienced personnel” were put in charge of trying to convince them to return voluntarily to their jobs. In critical domains such as the armaments industry, labour requisitions could be made. The German prohibition of coercive measures against recalcitrant workers, August 1943, preceded the prohibition of coercion in evacuations. Fritz Saukel circular of 13 Aug. 1943 (StAM: NSV 648.2). 138. Cf. Thibault Richard, Les normands sous l’occupation 1940–44: Vie quotidienne et années noires (Condé-sur-Noireau: Editions Charles Corlet, 1998), 160–61. 139. General Delegation of the French Government in the Occupied Territories to French armistice services, letter, 4 Feb. 1943 (AN: 41 AJ/356). 140. Feldkommandant to préfet of Manche, 10 Apr. 1943. The French authorities were aware of the order at least two days earlier, as a report from the sous-préfet to the préfet on 8 Apr. 1943 shows (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). Moreover, to encourage children to leave the city, an order closing five public and three private schools was sent to mayors in early April (AD Manche: 3 Z/187). 141. Kreiskommandant to sous-préfet, 13 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 142. This included Cherbourg proper, Tourlaville, Equeurdreville, Octeville, La Glacerie, Querqueville, and Hainneville. 143. The Germans thought in terms of whether someone was a soldier, worker or civilian, while the French divided civilians into four distinct groups: 1) les indispensables (indispensable), who would stay even if others were evacuated (mayors, railway workers, telephone operators, etc.); 2) les necessaires (necessary), manual or intellectual workers; women, children and the elderly in villages where they participated in agricultural work; 3) les utiles (useful), including family members of the previous two categories, whose departure risked causing the departure of their relatives; 4) les inutiles or bouches inutiles (useless), divided into three sub-groups—those who were institutionalized (in hospitals, orphanages, asylums, prisons); those who were “assisted” (elderly, infirm, not fit for work,

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nor able to live without assistance); finally, those who were fit and independent, but lived from pensions or private sources of income. See Ministry of the Interior, DR circular to préfets of coastal departments, 29 July 1942 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 144. “Report on the evacuations imposed by circumstance in the department of Seine-Inférieure,” by the Departmental Inspector of Schools, 4 June 1943 (AD SeineMaritime: 51 W/0339). 145. This had been discussed by telephone as soon as the order was given. S.I.P.E.G. to préfet of Manche, 19 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). Cherbourg’s mayor was told not to agree to any German order unless he had first cleared it with the préfet. Handwritten note [based on a meeting or phone call], 15 Apr. 1943 (AM Cherbourg, boîte 2). 146. Yves Durand has written that, “The illusory search for sovereignty was probably the principal motivation—as well as the one fraught with the most consequences—for state collaboration, not only in Vichy, but in all the countries where a government presented itself as a partner of the Germans.” Yves Durand, “Collaboration French-Style: A European Perspective,” in France at War: Vichy and the Historians, eds. Sarah Fishman, et al. (Oxford: Berg, 2000), 69. 147. Note on conversations with Kreiskommandant, 8 and 10 Apr. 1943; meeting at sous-préfet’s office, Cherbourg, 31 Mar. 1943 (both AD Manche: 3 Z/68). In Rouen, where evacuations were still voluntary, the préfet wrote that, “As a result of the relatively calm situation … it is hard to get new people to leave. It seems appropriate … to ask the German authorities for a formal and precise order that the French authorities can lean on to put the necessary pressure on the population.” Note of préfet of Seine-Inférieure (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0378). 148. Report of Cherbourg sous-préfet, who visited Brest and Saint-Nazaire at the end of February 1943 to see how evacuations were organized (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 149. Report on liaison between French Armistice Services and S.I.P.E.G., 25 Jan 1944 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 150. When 2,000 people were obliged to leave their homes at Granville, the prefecture of Manche refused to provide them with the evacuees’ allowance, presumably because they were already receiving some form of payment from the Germans. Inspection report about Manche by Mlle. Bernot, representative of the Secours National, 17 Dec. 1943 (ADCantal: 419 F/50). 151. Ministry of the Interior, DR circular, 29 July 1942, Appendix I (AN: 41 AJ/350). 152. AN: 41 AJ/350. 153. Commandant Bresson note, 24 Jan. 1944 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 154. Especially later in the war, some French officials may have objected to large-scale obligatory evacuations because removing civilians lessened the amount of “cover” and support available to the resistance. On at least one occasion, evacuations were ordered by the Germans as retaliation after sabotage (AN: 40 AJ/909). 155. Discussion between préfet of Manche and German authorities, 16 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 156. Lacombe to préfet of Manche, 19 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 157. Report on negotiations between the S.I.P.E.G. and the German authorities, 13 Apr. 1943 (AN: 41 AJ/350). See also Ministry of the Interior, DR circular, 4 Feb. 1943, Appendix III (AN: 41 AJ/350).

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158. Sous-préfet to mayors of Cherbourg area, 16 Apr. 1943; Engineers Cirilli and Fleury, Manche Service of Roads and Bridges, report, 7 June 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68); DR to préfets of Occupied Zone, 4 May 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/67). 159. Cherbourg cleric Father Lebas visited evacuees in the Loiret in June, and reported to the sous-préfet (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). See also Commander Meunier, report to préfet of Manche, 14 May 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68) and undated instructions [ca. Apr. 1943] from departmental office of refugee services to evacuation offices (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). The Ministry of the Interior issued a statement in May 1943 insisting préfets properly organize convoys to use railways more efficiently (AD Seine-Maritime: 1480 W/520). 160. Commander Meunier, report to préfet of Manche, 14 May 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 161. The Gendarmerie also reported that the evacuation “took place without the smallest incident, with the active cooperation of all the public services and others willing to help,” and that although the populace had been apprehensive, there was no panic. Gendarmerie National Cherbourg, report, 3 May 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68); Engineers Cirilli and Fleury, Manche Service of Roads and Bridges, report, 7 June 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 162. Report on meeting of sous-préfet with Kreiskommandant, 28 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 163. Figures for 8 May, from Commander Meunier, report to the préfet of Manche, 14 May 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 164. Conversation between Kreiskommandant and sous-préfet of Cherbourg, 15 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 165. Meunier noted that this was a “measure against which the sous-préfet has objected strenuously.” Commander Meunier, report to the préfet of Manche, 14 May 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 166. Cherbourg financial offices to sous-préfet, 27 May 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 167. Cherbourg police commissioner, report to sous-préfet, Kreiskommandant and French Office of Refugee Services, 30 June 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 168. The lower figure is from Engineers Cirilli and Fleury, Manche Service of Roads and Bridges, report, 7 June 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68); the high estimate, from the prefecture of Manche, is in an inspection report about the department of Manche by Mlle. Bernot, representative of the Secours National, 17 Dec. 1943 (ADCantal: 419 F/50). 169. AN: 41 AJ/376. 170. Préfet’s report to Ministry of the Interior, 1 September 1943 (AN: 41 AJ/376). 171. See Secours National representative Mlle. Bernot, inspection report about Manche, 17 Dec. 1943 (ADCantal: 419 F/50). 172. Kreiskommandant to sous-préfet, 6 Aug. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 173. The note was published on 12 Aug. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68), and is mentioned in the préfet of Manche’s report, 1 Sept. 1943 (AN: 41 AJ/376). 174. Préfet of Manche, monthly report to Ministry of the Interior, 9 Sept. 1943 (AN: 41 AJ/376). 175. Before the evacuation, five stamps with appropriate lettering were produced and given to a specific municipal employee in each of the towns making up greater Cherbourg. See notes of meeting with the Kreiskommandant, 22 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68).

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176. Kreiskommandant to sous-préfet, 13 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 177. AD Seine-Maritime: 1408 W/520 and 51 W/0339; AD Manche: 3 Z/68; AD Calvados: 319 W/16845. 178. AD Manche: 3 Z/68. 179. AD Manche: 3 Z/68. On Cherbourg at the Liberation, see Hilary Footitt, War and Liberation in France: Living with the Liberators (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), ch. 3. 180. As reported in Ministry of the Interior, DR to préfet of Seine-Inférieure, 28 Aug. 1943 (AD Seine-Maritime: 1408 W/520). The principal of one of Cherbourg’s high schools compared the attitude of parents who kept their children in the city to that of a father refusing medical aid to his dying child. Principal, Lycée de Herbour to academic inspector of Manche, 22 May 1942 (AD Manche: 3 Z/187). 181. Ministry of the Interior, DR to préfet of Seine-Inférieure, 28 Aug. 1943 (AD Seine-Maritime: 1408 W/520). 182. The district of Hamm higher courts’ president wrote in his report for the final quarter of 1943 that, “I myself find the return of evacuees decidedly irresponsible. It should perhaps be considered whether or not it would be possible to proceed against them with measures through the guardianship courts (removal of custody rights) [vormundschaftsgerichtliche Maßnahmen (Entziehung des Personenfürsorgerechts)]” (BA: R 3001/ 3367). 183. These figures were used to calculate the “indispensables” allowed to stay in Cherbourg. See note for the préfet, 8 Apr. 1943, and Kreiskommandant’s letter to sous-préfet, 13 Apr. 1943, both AD Manche: 3 Z/68. 184. Kitchen, Nazi Germany at War, ch. 5 summarizes these issues. 185. Ministry of the Interior, DR to préfets of coastal departments, 29 July 1942 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 186. Meeting of civil defense officials at Cherbourg sous-préfet’s office, 14 September 1942 (AD Manche: 127 W/88). 187. Circular of the Ministry of the Interior, DR to préfets of coastal departments, 29 July 1942 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 188. Feldkommandant to préfet, 10 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 189. Kreiskommandant Witzel to sous-préfet, 14 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 190. The French government had decided in February 1940 that, “The difficulties encountered in looking after small children in collective accommodation [les centres et colonies] oblige us to leave those of three to six years in the exclusive care of their families, or of specialized private organizations chosen by the families.” Vice-President of Council to préfets of 12 departments then receiving evacuees, 26 Feb. 1940 (AN: F23/221). See also Kreiskommandant Witzel to sous-préfet, 13 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68) and handwritten note [apparently based on a meeting or phone call], 15 Apr. 1943 (AM Cherbourg, boîte 2). 191. This resulted from negotiations between the sous-préfet and the Kreiskommandant on 20 and 22 Apr. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 192. Eck, “French Women,” 206–7. 193. Cf. Flyer “Volksgenosen und Volksgenossinnen!” (StAM: NSV 648:2) and Ministry of the Interior circular, 19 Apr. 1943 (StAM: NSV 648:2).

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194. Circular, 4 Feb. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/67). 195. Cf. Gregor, “Schicksalsgemeinschaft,” 1062–63. 196. David Crew, Town in the Ruhr: A Social History of Bochum, 1860–1914 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1979), ch. 2. 197. Sous-préfet to director of refugee services at Saint-Lô, 18 September 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 198. Mayor of Cherbourg to sous-préfet, 18 Aug. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 199. Population 1 May 1943 = 51,580; population 1 February 1944 = 31,598 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). Apparently, some evacuees actually lived in Cherbourg, but returned regularly to their communities of refuge to get their ration cards. Préfet of Manche to souspréfet, 28 Sept. 1943 (AD Manche: 3 Z/67). 200. Secours National representative Mlle. Bernot, inspection report about Manche, 17 Dec. 1943 (ADCantal: 419 F/50). 201. Colonel von Rohr, speech, 24 Feb. 44 (AD Manche: 3 Z/376). 202. Colonel von Rohr, speech, 24 Feb. 44 (AD Manche: 3 Z/376). 203. The Kreiskommandant had told the sous-préfet and préfet in early February that Festungskommandant von Rohr had asked for Cherbourg to be evacuated more thoroughly, though he had yet to make the order. Meeting 7 Feb. 1944 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68); Colonel von Rohr, speech, 24 Feb. 1944 (AD Manche: 3 Z/376). 204. Meeting at Kreiskommandant’s office, 24 Feb. 1944 (AD Manche: 3 Z/376). 205. The Germans employed laundresses and maids, not to mention prostitutes, of whom 21 were authorized to stay in the city in August 1943. In February 1942, the Cherbourg sous-préfet had written that the state should assist evacuees, but, “I admit that the prostitutes or camp-followers that gravitate in such large numbers to the occupation army do not awaken in my heart the same solicitude as the mothers and children; I could even, without displeasure, see the former exposed some day to the hazards! [sic] … of their occupation” (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). Statistics from Cherbourg municipal offices, 14 Aug. 1943, (AD Manche: 3 Z/68); sous-préfet’s conversation with Kreiskommandant, 26 Feb. 1944 (AD Manche: 3 Z/376). 206. Sous-préfet to mayors, 14 Mar. 1944; sous-préfet’s note, 6 Apr. 1944 (both AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 207. Mayors complained in late March that there was not enough green ink to finish the job. Sous-préfet to mayors, note, 28 Mar. 1944; Kreiskommandant to sous-préfet, 30 Mar. 1944 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). “Avis Concernant l’Evacuation” [Cherbourg-Éclair], n.d., published in German and French (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 208. The translated letter was passed on by the sous-préfet to mayors of the area on 3 May (AD Manche: 3 Z/483). See also Kreiskommandant to sous-préfet, 12 Feb. 1944 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 209. The mayor’s numbers do not add up (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 210. “Conseil de Dispersion” signed by mayor and sous-préfet of Cherbourg, 11 June 1944 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 211. Kreiskommandant to sous-préfet; French authorities’ advisory, both 13 June 1944 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 212. Footitt, War and Liberation, 67.

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NOTES TO CHAPTER 6 1. Report on evacuation measures, 30 Oct. 1943 (StAM: NSV 649: 2). 2. Emphasis in the original; Gerhard Dabel, cited in Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 20. Dabel’s account of the KLV was produced for the “Dokumentationsgemeinschaft KLV,” a group composed of mainly former Reichsdienststelle KLV staff that existed from 1976 to 1981 and promoted a whitewashed view of the KLV. Material the group collected is available in BA: Zsg. 140. Dabel, KLV. Hampe makes a milder version of the same argument in Zivile Luftschutz, 429. The debate about whether or not Germans can be viewed unproblematically as victims of air war (see Introduction) raises similar issues. 3. On French and German citizenship see Rogers Brubaker, Citizenship and Nationhood in France and Germany (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992). 4. On these connections in Germany: Aly, Volksstaat; Bajohr, Aryanisation; Jean-Marc Dreyfus, “WWII Bombing” in H-German, ; Groehler, Bombenkrieg; Krause, Flucht, 72; Nolan, “Germans as Victims,” 32; Recker, Sozialpolitik, 251; Nicholas Stargardt, “Opfer der Bomben und der Vergeltung “ in Ein Volk von Opfern: Die neue Debatte um den Bombenkrieg, 1940–1945, ed. Lothar Kettenacker (Berlin: Rowohlt, 2003), 65; “Wir haben ja nichts mehr,” Der Spiegel Special: Als Feuer vom Himmel fiel, 1/2003: 94–95, cited in Nolan, 32n100. For France, see Le Crom, “Philanthropie.” 5. Reich Air Minister to Prussian Minister of the Interior, 22 June 1934 (HstAD: BR 1131/132); decree of 7 Oct. 1938 (HstAD: BR 1131/161). 6. Kock, Kinderlandverschickung, 90. 7. Ministry of Finance to German Länder governments, circular, 18 Nov. 1939 (BA: R 1501/1419; BA: R 1501/1365 and BA: R 1501/1414). 8. Internal note, Ministry of the Interior, 17 July 1944 (BA: R 1501/1419). 9. Correspondance about the Thiels, summer 1944 (GLAKHE: 465d/917). 10. RSHA letter to Ministry of the Interior, 23 Sept. 1944 (BA: R 1501/1419). 11. Klemperer acquired a new identity as a non-Jewish evacuee. Victor Klemperer, I Will Bear Witness: The Diaries of Victor Klemperer, 1942–1945, trans. Martin Chalmers (New York: Modern Library, 2001), entry for 19 Feb. 1945: 419. Nonetheless, Armin Nolzen probably overstates the degree to which the progress of aerial bombing led to less socio-biologically differentiated war relief. Nolzen, “Sozialismus,” 67. 12. Liaison Officer in Pforzheim, 5 Oct. 1943 (GLAKHE: 465d/906). 13. For background information on Jews in France during World War II, I have relied on Michael R. Marrus and Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France and the Jews (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1995); André Kaspi, Les Juifs pendant l’Occupation (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1991). 14. This included “gens de couleur”—North Africans and others from the French colonies (AN: 41 AJ/348); Dombrowski, “Beyond,” ch. 5. 15. Verordnungsblatt für die besetzten französischen Gebieten, No. 9, 31 Sept. 1940; documents of French Delegation of Armistice Services at Wiesbaden (AN: 41 AJ/348). 16. French Delegation of Armistice Services to DR, 8 Nov. 1940 (AN: 41 AJ/348). 17. Special delegate for refugee issues, French Delegation of Armistice Services note, 8 July 1941 (AN: 41 AJ/347).

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18. Incidentally, of the 26 families who were contacted by a social worker, none agreed to have their children evacuated. Note from school director, 24 July 1943 (ADP: 1097 W Art. 33). 19. Report of Feldkommandant, Neuilly-sur-Seine, 16 Aug. 1942 (AN: 41 AJ/897). 20. Theresia Seible, interviewed by Heidrun Kaupen-Haas and Gisela Bock in the 1980s, remembered bitterly that, “A social worker was paid all the way to Auschwitz, so that every last child could be gassed.” Theresia Seible, “Sintezza und Zigeunerin,” in Opfer und Täterinnen: Frauenbiographien des Nationalsozialismus, ed. Angelika Ebbinghaus (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1987), 387. 21. On the role of the Reichsbahn in the Holocaust, see Hilberg, Sonderzüge. 22. Two examples of this, one German and one French, can be found below. In her dictionary of Nazi vocabulary, Cornelia Schmitz-Berning gives the following definitions for evacuation: “Evacuate, evacuation: a) to clear regions vulnerable to war or bombardment of women and children; b) to deport Jews with the object of destroying them.” Schmitz-Berning, Vokabular, s.v. “evakuieren.” 23. Cf. Klemperer, LTI, first published in 1946, and Schmitz-Berning, s.v. “evakuieren.” 24. RSHA document, 20 Feb. 1943, reproduced in Reinhard Rürup, ed., Topography of Terror: Gestapo, SS and Reichssicherheitshauptamt on the ‘Prinz-Albrecht-Terrain’: a Documentation (Berlin: Willmuth Arenhövel, 1989), 122–23. 25. On the “resettlement myth,” see Raul Hilberg, The Destruction of the European Jews (Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1961), 473. 26. See notes 4 and 41 in this chapter, and on Europe more generally, Avi Beker, ed., The Plunder of Jewish Property during the Holocaust: Confronting European History (Houndsmill, Hampshire: Palgrave, 2001); Richard Z. Chesnoff, Pack of Thieves: How Hitler and Europe Plundered the Jews and Committed the Greatest Theft in History (New York: Doubleday, 1999). 27. Note from Düsseldorf Oberbürgermeister’s office to Oberfinanzpräsident Düsseldorf, 1 Nov. 1941 (Stadtarchiv Düsseldorf: Bestand IV/474). 28. See Recker, “Wohnen,” and Recker, Sozialpolitik, ch. 4. On housing problems before the war, Tim Mason, Social Policy in the Third Reich: The Working Class and the ‘National Community’, trans. John Broadwin (Providence, RI: Berg, 1993), 149–50. 29. Protocol of the Wannsee Conference, 20 Jan. 1942, cited in translation from Rürup, Topography, 149. See also Hilberg, Destruction, 476. 30. Götz Aly, Hitlers Volksstaat: Raub, Rassenkrieg und nationaler Sozialismus (Frankfurt am Main: S. Fisher, 2006), 140. 31. 25 Nov. 1941, Reichsgesetzblatt Teil I, 722. 32. Hilberg, Destruction, 472. 33. Hilberg, Destruction, 476–77. 34. Meeting at Düsseldorf city hall, minutes, 4 Nov. 1941 (Stadtarchiv Düsseldorf: Bestand IV/474). By early August 1942, 600 apartments apparently had been made available in Stuttgart. Krause, Flucht, 72. The total number of “Jewish” apartments that later were used by air raid victims is probably incalculable; Recker suggests no figure. Recker, Sozialpolitik, 251. 35. Aly, Volksstaat, 139–40.

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36. Bomb victims were among those with priority at the auctions. Bajohr, Aryanisation, 278. Jewelry taken from Jews during Kristallnacht had already been passed on to the NSV in 1938. Reich headquarters of the NSV to Gau NSV offices, 28 Feb. 1939 (BA: NS 37/1003). In addition to bomb victims, “Volksdeutsch” families from Eastern Europe received furniture and other goods (StAM: NSV 1158). Herwart Vorländer’s otherwise thorough account of the NSV neglects this issue. Vorländer, NSV. 37. Hamburg municipal finance officials’ note, 5 Sept. 1942 (BA: R 2/29922). Düsseldorf Oberbürgermeister’s office to Oberfinanzpräsident Düsseldorf, 11 Nov. 1941 (Stadtarchiv Düsseldorf: Bestand IV/474). 38. Concentration camp inmates (usually non-Jewish ones in this case) were used to clean up after air raids in the Ruhrgebiet. Gellately, Backing, 218. 39. On the “aryanization” of Jewish property and spoliations in France, see Aly, Volksstaat, 114ff.; Kaspi, Juifs, 112–29; Marrus and Paxton, Vichy France and Jews, 101ff., 152ff.; Shmuel Trigano, “France and the Burdens of Vichy,” in The Plunder of Jewish Property during the Holocaust: Confronting European History, ed. Avi Beker (Houndsmills, Hampshire: Palgrave, 2001), 177–92; and Wieviorka and Azoulay, Pillage. 40. Instructions about increase in the number of Jews captured, 14 Apr. 1944 (BA: R 70 Frankreich 1). See Marrus and Paxton, Vichy France and Jews, 334. Since French law did not allow prefectures to control who rented apartments, the Kommandant in Paris claimed this responsibility, but delegated tracking vacancies and authorizing rentals back onto prefectures. A French landlord whose Jewish tenants had been deported was obliged, as in Germany, to seek local government approval before renting the apartment to new tenants. 41. “The Führer has agreed that the complete furnishings of Jews who have fled or who are still leaving the western occupied areas shall be seized in order to supplement the facilities of the government in the east.” Telegram to Militärbefehlshaber, 29 Jan. 1942 (AN: 40 AJ/1366). Perhaps because he is primarily interested in the Germans’ own use of plundered goods, Aly largely leaves out French involvement in the process and overlooks the fact that French bomb victims also benefitted from spoliated goods. Aly, Volksstaat, 141ff. 42. Delaunay wrote to the embassy to encourage the creation of a winter-aid organization modelled on the NSV’s Winterhilfswerk, insisting that, “Jewish wealth, which is in fact the wealth of France, should be seized: it’s our wish … that part of this wealth, built on the backs of French workers, should be returned to them and made into a charitable fund for National Winter Relief [Secours National d’Hiver]” (AA: Paris 1301). Delaunay’s rhetoric later was used to underpin the redistribution of spoliated property by C.O.S.I. Ory, Collaborateurs, 92. Kurt von Behr, head of the German Red Cross, who was in charge of expropriations in the western occupied territories, later claimed this had been his idea (Aly, Volksstaat, 142). 43. Rosenberg cited in Aly, Volksstaat, 142. 44. Report entitled “Reaktion der Pariser Bevölkerung auf das englische Bombardement,” German embassy, information department, 18 Mar. 1942 (AA: Paris 1122); see also Commandant du Grand Paris, 5 July 1943 (ADP: 1011/44/1 art. 27). 45. Internal embassy note, 16 May 1942 (AA: Paris 1122). 46. The money came from a “tax” levied on French Jews by the Germans, on 17 December 1941, when one billion francs was taken out of a fund derived from the forced sale

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to non-Jews of Jewish-owned enterprises. Trigano, “Burdens,” 185. The Secours National also benefited from spoliated property. See, for instance, AA: Paris 1301, which mentions a Secours National request to take over the Jewish-owned Château de Mareil-le-Guyon. On the Secours National’s use of spoliated property more generally see Kulok, 103-107. According to staff at the German embassy in Paris, 80 percent of C.O.S.I.’s start-up fund was gone by early 1943. C.O.S.I. claimed to have furniture worth about 2.3 million francs available and 12 million francs still in local committees’ treasuries, but at least 68 million had already been spent, much on administration. Nevertheless, the Germans approved a further C.O.S.I. request for 100 million francs in January 1943 (German embassy correspondence, AA: Paris 1307). In June 1944, “for the fifth time, the German authorities … made a donation of 100 million” to C.O.S.I. (Weekly information bulletin of the Secours Social, 28 June 1944; ADP: 24 W/11). See also Le Crom, “Philanthropie,” 226–27. 47. “Un geste de solidarité socialiste,” L’atelier, 28 Mar. 1942 (BA: NS 5/VI/27096). 48. Emphasis in the original. “Instructions aux inspecteurs concernant la provenance des fonds,” n.d. (AA: Paris 1122). This echoed Delaunay’s call for a “Secours d’Hiver” cited above. 49. Internal embassy note about C.O.S.I’s failings, 16 May 1942 (AA: Paris 1122). 50. “Une Preuve,” L’Union Française, Lyons, 13 Mar. 1943 (NS 5/VI/27098) ; “Le C.O.S.I. a réuni les représentants de ses 140 comités locaux,” L’atelier, 17 July 1943 (BA: NS 5/VI/27098); “Instructions aux inspecteurs concernant la provenance des fonds,” n.d. (AA: Paris 1122). 51. Note by German embassy staff in Paris, 22 Apr. 1942 (AA: Paris 1122). A newsreel crew filmed the ceremony, but the film was not shown publicly because of objections on the part of the German embassy. Embassy official Dr. Grosse apparently disapproved of the film because the ceremony did not sufficiently stress the embassy’s role as C.O.S.I.’s patron. Notes by German embassy staff member Frau Aubert-Weiss, 22 Apr. 1942, 30 June 1942 (AA: Paris 1122). 52. Report of von Behr, cited in Wieviorka and Azoulay, Pillage, 21. 53. Note by German embassy staff member Aubert-Weiss, 22 Apr. 1942 (AA: Paris 1122). Wieviorka and Azoulay point out that since many (especially emigré) Jews in France were quite poor, there were also concerns about the opposite problem—that the furniture was not good enough to be reused. Wieviorka and Azoulay, Pillage, 20. 54. Discussion in AA: Paris 1122. 55. Internal embassy note about C.O.S.I’s failings, 16 May 1942 (AA: Paris 1122). 56. German embassy in Paris to Foreign Office in Berlin, telegram, 4 Sept. 1943 (AN: 3 W 355). 57. Rosenberg wanted the furniture to be used for the colonization of the east, but bombed out families soon took precedence. Aly, Volksstaat, 142; Wieviorka and Azoulay, Pillage, 21. 58. French delegation at the Armistice Commission note to Artillery General Vogl, President of German Armistice Commission, Wiesbaden, 5 Sept. 1942 (AN: 40 AJ/1366). 59. French delegation at the Armistice Commission note to Artillery General Vogl, President of German Armistice Commission, Wiesbaden, 5 Sept. 1942 (AN: 40 AJ/1366). 60. Marrus and Paxton, Vichy France and Jews, 102.

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61. Hilberg, Sonderzüge, 90. 62. NSV in Baden circular, 25 October 1943, discusses transportation problems (GLAKHE: 465d/908). 63. Hilberg, Sonderzüge, 87–89. 64. Regional president (Düsseldorf ) to regional health offices, 12 Oct. 1938 (HstAD: Regierung Düsseldorf 54 474). 65. Regional president (Düsseldorf ) to regional health offices, 3 Nov. 1938 (HstAD: Regierung Düsseldorf 54 474). 66. Quoted in Hermann, “Freimachung,” n22. 67. Ernst Klee, ‘Euthanasie’ im NS-Staat: die ‘Vernichtung lebensunwerten Lebens’ (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1983), 87. 68. Gleichschaltung and outright confiscation of facilities belonging to religious organizations and private charities is well documented. See Vorländer, NSV, 20ff. On the links between this and the “euthanasia” program, see Klee, Euthanasie, 66–75. 69. Klee, Euthanasie, 87. 70. Experts estimate that “Aktion T-4,” as the program was initially called, took the lives of more than 70,000 victims. Though protests from the population and the churches supposedly “stopped” the program in 1941, approximately 50,000 people were killed after the “stop.” On the relationship between “euthanasia” and the measures developed to respond to aerial bombardment, see also Krause, Flucht, 146–56, and Stephenson, Württemberg, 125–34. Readers seeking a more complete history of the “euthanasia” program may consult Götz Aly, “Medicine against the Useless,” in Cleansing the Fatherland, ed. Götz Aly et al. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994), 22–98; Henry Friedlander, “The Exclusion and Murder of the Disabled,” in Social Outsiders in Nazi Germany, ed. Robert Gellately and Nathan Stoltzfus (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001), 145–64; Klee, Euthanasie; Ernst Klee, ed., Dokumente zur ‘Euthanasie’ (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1985); Robert N. Proctor, Racial Hygiene: Medicine under the Nazis (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1988), ch. 7; and Manfred Vasold, “Medizin,” in Enzyklopädie des Nationalsozialismus, ed. Wolfgang Benz et al. (Munich: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 1997), 245–49. 71. Aly, “Medicine,” 23. 72. Aly, “Medicine,” 22–23; Klee, Euthanasie, 88. 73. Aly, “Medicine,” 22. 74. One man involved in organizing transfers noted that some families, suspicious about what was happening, took “the patients home for a short time even against the doctors’ advice, and [brought] them back after the transfer operation.” Part of a comment from May 1943, made by Cropp, subordinate of Undersecretary Conti, the Reich Health Leader, quoted in Aly, “Medicine,” 80. Cf. Stephenson, Württemberg, 128. 75. This aspect, not treated at any length in Ernst Klee’s standard work on “euthanasia,” is explored more in Aly, “Medicine,” 25, 86–92. 76. Aly, “Medicine,” 79–80. 77. Dr. Creutz, report to Düsseldorf regional president, 2 Feb. 1944 (HstAD: Regierung Düsseldorf 54 474). 78. Medical officer for Duisburg area, report, 12 Aug. 1942 (HstAD: Regierung Düsseldorf 54 475 Part I).

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79. Düsseldorf regional president to the regional health offices, 22 June 1943 (HstAD: Regierung Düsseldorf 54 474). 80. Dr. Creutz, report to Düsseldorf regional president, 2 Feb. 1944 (HstAD: Regierung Düsseldorf 54 474). 81. The women’s story is told in Aly, “Medicine,” 86–87. Hadamar began acting as a killing center toward the end of 1940. Klee, Dokumente, 117. See also Stephenson, Württemberg, 125–34. 82. Contemporaries worried that “euthanasia” might lead to indiscriminate killings of patients who had lived a normal life before succumbing to senile dementia, or that worthy soldiers affected by battle fatigue and shell shock might be victims. Both types of deaths occurred. Aly, “Medicine,” 88–89. 83. Aly, “Medicine,” 23. 84. Dr. Creutz, report to Düsseldorf regional president, 2 Feb. 1944 (HstAD: Regierung Düsseldorf 54 474). 85. Goebbels to Gauleiter, 29 Jan. 1944 (BA: R 55/447); Groehler, Bombenkrieg, 279. 86. Goebbels to Gauleiter, 29 Jan. 1944 (BA: R 55/447). 87. Plenipotentiary for Reich Government to Reich defense commissars, 25 Nov. 1944 (HstAD: Regierung Düsseldorf 54 474). 88. Regional president to Reich defense commissar Düsseldorf and Essen, 7 Dec. 1944 (HstAD: Regierung Düsseldorf 54 474). 89. Aly, “Medicine,” 91. 90. Gauleitung NSDAP Düsseldorf to regional president, 20 Dec. 1944 (HstAD: Regierung Düsseldorf 54 474). 91. Fräulein K.’s letter, passed from the Ministry of the Interior to the Propaganda Ministry, and then to the Reich Commissioner for Mental Hospitals, can be found in BA: R 55/591. Readers, puzzled by its apparent lucidity, wondered why Luise K. simply had not been released as the Russians approached. 92. Letter of 28 Feb. 1945 (BA: R 55/591). 93. Klee, Dokumente, 306. Excerpts of the report are in Klee, Dokumente, 306–22. 94. Ministère de l’intérieur, Instruction Générale à l’usage de Messieurs les Préfets sur les Mouvements et Transports de Sauvegarde IGS 38-39 Secret (AD Calvados: 3 Z/2852), 8. 95. Inspector of administrative services, department of Haute-Garonne, report to the Minister of Public Health, 3 Apr. 1940 (AN: F1a/4539). 96. French Secretary of State for Family and Health to préfets, 9 June 1941 (AD SeineMaritime: 51 W/177). 97. French Ministry of the Interior, letter, 26 Jan. 1942 (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/ 177). 98. Heinrich Böll, Briefe aus dem Krieg, 1939–1945, 2 vols., vol. 1 (Köln: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 2001), 29 Aug. 1940: 106. 99. Regional director of health and social services [assistance] to préfet régional of Rouen, 15 July 1942 (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0339). 100. The evacuation plan from 15 July 1942, including a map, can be found in AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0339. Manche’s préfet had reported nearly a year earlier that he had been ordered to evacuate hospitals, hospices, and convalescent homes in coastal zones of his department, except for the Pasteur hospital in Cherbourg. These earlier evacuations,

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to neighbouring Orne, had begun on 30 Aug. 1941. Préfet’s report, 31 Aug. 1941 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 101. Note, 1 Apr. 1944 (ADP: 5221/56/1 Art. 62). 102. Director of departmental affairs for Seine, note to director of préfet’s cabinet, 8 Feb. 1944 (ADP: 1011/44/1 Art. 15). 103. Note, 1 Apr. 1944 (ADP: 5221/56/1 Art. 62). 104. Préfet of Seine et Oise to presidents of the hospital administrative commissions, 27 July 1944 (ADP: 5221/56/1 Art. 62). 105. Pauline D.’s story is told in Isabelle von Bueltzingsloewen, “Quand l’enquête naît de la polémique,” Vingtième Siècle 76, no. Oct.–Dec. (2002): 99–100, 114. 106. Lafont’s published thesis (in medicine) focuses on the Vinatier Hospital near Lyons, where an average of 272 deaths per year before the war rose to 645 deaths annually during the occupation. Based on patients’ food allotments and other evidence from medical records, Lafont suggests this was largely the result of neglect and malnutrition. Max Lafont, L’extermination Douce: La Mord de 40 000 Malades Mentaux dans les Hôpitaux Psychiatriques en France, sous le Régime de Vichy (Lyons: Editions de l’Arefppi, 1981). See also Patrick Lemoine, Droit d’asiles (Paris: Editions Odile Jacob, 1998), and Pierre Durand, Le Train des Fous (Paris: Editions Syllepse, 2001). 107. Calorie counts were based on a study of Marseilles undertaken in 1941 and 1942. Comité médical de la Résistance, “Dommages aux Personnes,” in Comité Consultative des dommages et des réparations France, Dommages subis par la France et l’union française du fait de la guerre et de l’occupation ennemie (1939–1945): partie imputable a l’Allemagne, 9 vols. (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1951): XVI; XX; XXXII. 108. Von Bueltzingsloewen’s findings and the debate about French psychiatric patients during the occupation are summarized in Régis Guyotat, “Le Drame des Asiles de Vichy,” Le Monde, 16 Oct. 2003. See also Bueltzingsloewen, “Quand l’enquête,” 99–115. 109. Monthly report of préfet of Calvados, 4 May 1943 (AN: 41 AJ/366). 110. Correspondance from nuns at hospital to Pétain, 10 Mar. 43 (AN: 2 AG/21). 111. Despite receiving between 1,200 and 1,500 shell hits and burning three times, the facility cared for 299 wounded during the fighting. Françoise Dutour, La Libération du Calvados: 6 juin–31 décembre 1944 (Caen: Conseil général du Calvados: Archives départementales, 1994), 114. 112. John Keegan, Six Armies in Normandy: From D-Day to the Liberation of Paris (New York: Penguin Books, 1982), 185. 113. Wolfgang Ayaß emphasizes the difficulty of determining exactly what the Nazis meant by “asocial.” In September 1939, when “asocials” were barred from receiving unemployment insurance, they were defined as, “those who, because they are work-shy [Arbeitsscheu], persistently do not make use of opportunities to work … or persistently waste efforts made to obtain work for them.” Wolfgang Ayaß, “Asoziale” im Nationalsozialismus (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1995), 109. In addition, alcoholism, petty theft, prostitution, and child neglect were all frequently used excuses to declare a person or family “asocial.” Following Ayaß, I include those who were defined by the German regime as “asozial,” or by the French regime as “indésirable,” regardless of the cause or justice of the labeling. Ayaß, Asoziale, 12. As with the other two groups discussed above, my focus is on the intersection of the treatment of the “asocials” and the measures to assist the population affected by air raids.

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114. Head of municipal social workers, Hamburg, report, October 1940. Cited in Ebbinghaus, Opfer, 169. 115. Guidelines for NSV representatives, ca. 24 June 1943 (StAM: Gauleitung Westfalen-Süd 16). 116. By 1942, it was the regime’s deliberate policy to work the “asocials” who ended up in concentration camps to death. Ayaß, Asoziale, 165–76. On a typical “asocial” colony, see Lisa Pine, “Hashude: The imprisonment of ‘Asocial’ families in the Third Reich,” German History 13, no. 2 (1995): 182–97. 117. NSV Bühl (Baden) to NSV Strasbourg, 1 July 1943 (GLAKHE 465d/916). 118. Local NSV representative, Lenzkirch (Black Forest) to district NSV office, 22 June 1943 (GLAKHE: 465d/906). 119. Local NSV representative, Lenzkirch to district NSV office, 22 June 1943 (GLAKHE: 465d/906). 120. Ayaß, Asoziale, 123. 121. Lists of “asocial” evacuees from Burhag, 10 and 22 July 1943, note they have departed without giving their destination (GLAKHE: 465d/916). 122. Emphasis in the original; Head liason officer of Westfalen-Süd in Baden, circular, 20 Oct. 1943 (GLAKHE: 465d/907). 123. Ayaß, Asoziale, 135; Pine, “Hashude,” 195–97. 124. Report on evacuees’ situation, cabinet du préfet de la Seine, n.d. [late fall 1939] (ADP: 1012/57/1 Art. 10). 125. Gouineau, “Sinistrés Evacués,” Secours National, Comptes rendus des journées d’études des assistantes sociales du Secours National: Zone sud, juin 1943, La Bourboule (Paris: Secours National, 1944), 73. 126. Director General of French National Police, circular, 4 Mar. 1944 (AD Manche: 3 Z 67). 127. Director General of French National Police, circular, 4 Mar. 1944 (AD Manche: 3 Z/67). 128. General Delegation of the French Government in the Occupied Territories, report, 21 Apr. 1942 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 129. Préfet of Seine-Inférieure, report, 4 May 1942 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 130. Delegation of French Government in the Occupied Territories, note to French Direction of Armistice Services, 6 Aug. 1942 (AN: 41 AJ/350). The prison was of course also a large public building that easily could be put to other uses. 131. Militärbefehlshaber, circular, 8 Apr. 1942 (AN: 40 AJ/909). 132. Robert Gellately and Nathan Stoltzfus, eds., Social Outsiders in Nazi Germany (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001), 4. 133. Cf. Robert Moeller’s work on “stories” about World War II in postwar West Germany. Telling a sanitized “story” about evacuations allowed evacuees to perceive themselves unproblematically as victims with little or no connection to Nazi attrocities. Moeller, War Stories, 17.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 7 1. Adolf Hitler, “Rede vor dem Reichstag,” Völkischer Beobachter, Berlin edition, 22 May 1935: 1–4, 6.

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2. A partial exception was Great Britain during the Battle of Britain, but only because there was no land invasion and the British continued to control their own airspace. The debate about whether air raids alone can bring countries to their knees is a perennial one (see Thomas Childers, “‘Facilis descensus averni est’: The Allied Bombing of Germany and the Issue of German Suffering,” Central European History 38, no. 1 (2005): 75–105), but victory and defeat involve so many factors that isolating one in this way seems artificial. See Maier, “Targeting,” 435. 3. Emphasis in original; Secret command matter, coastal defense sector Isigny, 13 Sept. 1941 (AN: 40 AJ/907). 4. This policy was tested during the Allied raid on Dieppe, August 1942, when instead of fleeing, the local population stayed indoors until the battle was over. Reported were 44 civilian deaths and 99 casualties. The Militärbefehlshaber donated 10 million francs to the victims. Police report of 21 Aug. 1942 (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0950); “Le Militaerbefehlshaber en France met dix millions de francs à la disposition des victimes civilies de la tentative anglaise de Dieppe,” Journal de Rouen, 24 Aug. 1942. 5. Directives for hostilities, Militärbefehlshaber Frankreich, 9 Aug. 1943 (AN: 40 AJ/450). 6. Typically, the Germans informed the French about evacuable areas, préfets developed evacuation plans, sent them to the local Feldkommandant for authorization, and then disseminated them to the mayors. 7. Cherbourg maps, 13 Aug. and 25 Nov. 1943 (AD Manche: 127 W/52; AM Cherbourg: boîte 2); Planning in Calvados (AD Calvados: 319 W/16845 and 16846); plans to evacuate up to 200,000 Parisians to Seine et Marne (ADP: 5221/56/1 art. 62 and ADP: 1103 W/13). 8. Préfet of Loiret to mayors, ca. 13 Apr. 1944 (BA: R 70 Frankreich/17). 9. Jackson, Dark Years, 533. 10. Jackson, Dark Years, 533. Between March and May, the Secours National looked after bombed-out families at 320 separate sites. Press notice, 26 May 1944 (AN: 307 AP/161). 11. Délégué général à l’information in Calvados, report, quoted in Jean Quellien, La Normandie au Coeur de la Guerre, Collection “Seconde Guerre Mondiale” (Rennes: Editions Ouest-France, 1992), 22. 12. On Déat, see Philippe Burrin, La France à l’heure allemande: 1940–1944 (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1995), especially 396ff.; Cointet, Déat; Déat, Mémoires. 13. Secours National correspondence on these matters (AD Cantal: 419 F/4, AN: 307 AP/160 and ADP: 24 W/11). 14. DR circular, 1 Feb. 1944 (AN: F 23/236); chapter 3. 15. Law of 6 Apr. 1944, Journal Officiel de l’Etat Français, 25 Apr. 1944: 1150. 16. Préfets régionaux, created by Admiral Darlan in April 1941, enabled coordination beyond the departmental unit and dealt with “two pressing practical problems: order and the food supply” (Paxton, Vichy France, 199). 17. The document referred to children under 15, pregnant women, and mothers of children under seven; the elderly and chronically ill were not included. Earlier French regulations included all “nonessential” segments of the population, not just young people. Ministry of the Interior, “Instruction d’application de l’arrete du 14 mai 1944,” 14 May 1944 (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0339).

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18. Ministry of the Interior circular “Hébergement des populations dispersées ou evacuées,” 14 May 1944 (AD Eure: 70 W/79). 19. See correspondence in AN: 40 AJ/547. 20. Prefecture of Calvados, DR to mayors, 13 Apr. 1944 (AD Calvados: 319 W/16845). 21. Draft of letter to S.I.P.E.G., with corrections, notation that final version was sent 14 June 1944 (AN: 40 AJ/547). 22. On the Normandy Landings, and their effects on civilians specifically, see François Bédarida, ed., Normandie 44: Du débarquement à la libération (Paris: Albin Michel, 1987); Michel Boivin et al., Villes Normandes; Dutour, Libération; Keegan, Six Armies; Laisney Launay, L’exode; Quellien, Normandie; Olivier Wieviorka, Histoire du débarquement en Normandie: Des origines à la libération de Paris, 1941–1944 (Paris: Seuil, 2007). On the Liberation more generally, see Comité d’histoire de la deuxième guerre mondiale, La Libération de la France: Actes du colloque international tenu à Paris du 28 au 31 octobre 1974 (Paris: Editions du CNRS, 1976); Footitt, War and Liberation; H.R. Kedward and Nancy Wood, The Liberation of France: Image and Event (Oxford: Berg, 1995); Andrew Knapp, ed., The Uncertain Foundation: France at the Liberation, 1944–47 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007); Megan Koreman, The Expectation of Justice: France 1944–1946 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1999); Veillon, Vivre. 23. After initial fears that there were at least 2,000 dead, later estimates reduced the number to 500–600. About 10,000–12,000 people fled the area. Mr. Lesage to Director of Refugees, report, 13 June 1944 (AN: F 23/236); [préfet régional] report to Ministry of the Interior, 15–10 June inspection tour (AD: Seine-Maritime: 51 W/1110). 24. Interview with Mr. Laisney, Secours National delegate, Manche, recorded summer 1988, Musée Mémorial (Caen) Archives: T 110. 25. The Germans had requisitioned all vehicles. Liaison report to DR, Vichy, 21 June 1944 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 26. Quoted in Mme. Marie, Carnet de bord des pensionnaires sous les bombes: Des jeunes filles dans la bataille de Normandie: Juin–Juillet 1944 (Alençon: Maison Poulet-Malassis, 1949), 23. 27. Militärbefehlshaber Frankreich, administrative division, note of 13 June 1944 (AN: 40 AJ/547) 28. Liaison report to DR, Vichy, 21 June 1944 (AN: 41 AJ/350). 29. Footitt, War and Liberation, 67. 30. Sources imply that other mayors made similar threats. Correspondence from 18 August 1944 (AD Manche: 3Z/68) and 25 August 1944 (AD Manche: 3Z/379). See chapter 5. 31. S.I.P.E.G. report on Rouen, 4 June 1944 (AN: 41 AJ/356). The most vulnerable schools had been closed for over a year, and many Rouen children in Eure were forced to move again as battle threatened them. Seine-Inférieure academic inspector to regional prefect, Rouen, 30 Mar. 1943 (AD Seine-Maritime: 51 W/0227); Inspector for children’s evacuations in Eure, report, 16 to 31 Aug. 1944 (AD Eure: 1290 W/65). 32. Entr’aide Francaise, Aidez l’Entr’aide Française à vaincre la Misère (Alençon, 1945). 33. Instructions in AD Calvados: 808 W/35549 and AN: 307 AP/160. 34. Minutes of a meeting of Secours National board of directors, 3 Aug. 1944 (AN: 307 AP/160).

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35. Secours National: Office of Propaganda and Documentation, “L’action du Secours National en Normandie depuis le 6 Juin 1944” (AD Cantal: 419 F:53); letter confirming Kuentz’s appointment, 22 June 1944 (AN: 40 AJ/548). 36. At one point, Secours National representative Gouineau was allowed to leave Paris only if he agreed to travel with a Panzer division headed for Alençon, which considerably augmented the risks of the trip. Former Calvados préfet Lecornu to secretaire de l’académie national des sciences, arts et belles lettres de Caen, 12 May 1945 (AD Calvados: M 15743). 37. In the historiography of the Liberation, the battle of Caen stands out as a critical moment. See Bédarida, ed., Normandie, third section; Michel Boivin et al., Villes Normandes, 87ff. and 135ff.; Dutour, Libération; Henaff, Saint Sylvain; A. Gosset and P. Lecomte, Caen pendant la Bataille (Caen: Ozanne et Compagnie, 1946); Keegan, Six Armies, 183ff.; Quellien, Normandie, 159ff.; Sturdee, “Liberation,” 297–308; Veillon, Vivre, 279–280; Wieviorka, Débarquement. 38. Lecornu’s father’s description of his son’s action, AD Calvados: M 15743. Mme. Himbert’s trip, encouraged by the local head of the Forces Françaises de l’Intérieur (F.F.I.), is described in Henaff, Saint Sylvain, 8. The International Red Cross president wrote to Hitler and other leaders in early summer of 1944 to ask that all combatants recognize safe areas. German high officials were unsure how Hitler would respond, but pointed out that the Reich had supported safe areas in international discussions before the war (BA-MA Freiburg: RW 35/713). 39. There were four separate German orders to leave, on 6, 13, and 29 June, and 8 July. Henaff, Saint Sylvain, 7; AD Calvados: 808 W/35549; AN: F23/236. 40. Henaff, Saint Sylvain, 5, and director of S.I.P.E.G. advance post, note to préfet of Manche, 1 July 1944 (AN: F 23/236). 41. Saunier, reporting on a conversation with Lefort (head of evacuees’ services in Orne) to DR, Paris, 26 June 1944 (AN: F 23/236). 42. Veillon, Vivre, 279. 43. Saunier to DR, Paris, 26 June 1944 (AN: F 23/236). 44. Saunier to DR, Paris, 26 June 1944 (AN: F 23/236). 45. Interview with Robert Mairie, recorded by E. Fouilloux, Jan. 1984, Musée Mémorial (Caen) Archives: T 230. 46. Interview with Robert Mairie, recorded by E. Fouilloux, Jan. 1984, Musée Mémorial (Caen) Archives: T 230. 47. Meat and dairy products were readily available in Normandy; shortages of sugar and flour remained problematic. Veillon, Vivre, 278–79. 48. Saunier to DR, Paris, 26 June 1944 (AN: F 23/236). 49. Saunier to DR, Paris, 26 June 1944 (AN: F 23/236). 50. Feldkommandantur 723 (Caen) to préfet of Calvados, 8 July 1944 (AD Calvados: 808 W/35549). 51. Apparently, after consulting with local resistance leaders, the gendarme carrying the message waited before passing it to the préfet. Gosset and Lecomte, Caen; Henaff, Saint Sylvain, 27. 52. Quellien, Normandie, 160. 53. Since preparatory bombing had begun before the Landing, the battle for Caen lasted some 69 days. Dutour, Libération, 184.

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54. As late as March 1945, the International Red Cross and the French government attempted to intervene on behalf of 9,200 civilians trapped at Lorient, where there were no French doctors and a single midwife for the group. The government debated imposing evacuation on the approximately 3,000 women and children in the area, suggesting that those who refused to leave would “not benefit from the distributions of fresh food … in the pocket,” but only limited transfers could be arranged. The Lorient garison finally capitulated on 7 May 1945. DR to Frenay, PGDR, 10 Mar. 1945 (AN: F 9/3137); A. Le Guen, 277 Jours dans la ‘Poche’ de Lorient ([France]: A. Le Guen, 1990), 500. 55. AN: 307 AP/158. 56. Charles Maier underlines that civilians were the implicit, if not the explicit, target of Allied bombing even then, for “American bombers … continued bombing targets until almost the last weeks of the war, when it was clear that they could play little strategic role.” Maier, “Targeting,” 435. 57. Reich defense commissioner Magdeburg-Anhalt, 15 June 1944 (BA: R 1501/1419). From the summer of 1944, all nonessential train journeys required permission. 58. Bavarian Minister of the Interior to Reich Minister of the Interior, 25 Nov. 1944 (BA: R 1501/1419). 59. These figures are little more than an estimate. Internal reports of Propaganda Ministry representative Imhoff, 11 and 20 Feb. 1945 (BA: R 55/616), and Krause, Flucht, 167–84. 60. Reich defense commissioners who were faced with an exceptionally rapid enemy advance could order evacuations. Bormann circular, 5 Sept. 1944 (BA: NS 6/351); Minister of the Interior to Reich defense commissioners, 7 Sept. 1944 (HstAD: RW 23/97). As before, planned reception areas were far from evacuees’ home regions. Reception plan, 1 Nov. 1944 (StAM: NSV 650). Foreign refugees entering the Reich were sent to special camps—those with “Germanic” origins, or who had volunteered for service in the military and SS, were given preferential treatment. Note from Kaltenbrunner to SS officials, 21 Sept. 1944 (HstAD: RW 37/21). 61. Gauleiter Grohé order, 14 Oct. 1944 (HstAD: RW 23/91). 62. “Trek” or “Treck,” a word associated with mass flight from the East, appears in official documents from the fall of 1944 to describe convoys of wagons in the West as well. Cf. Hauptgemeinschaftsleiter, Gauleitung der NSDAP Köln-Aachen, letter of 17 Nov. 1944 (HstAD: RW 23/97). 63. Ministry of the Interior, circular, 21 Sept. 1944 (StAM: NSV 650). 64. Minister of the Interior to Reich Defense Commissioners, 7 Sept. 1944 (HstAD: RW 23/97). 65. Reich Defense Commissioner Cologne-Aachen, instructions, 11 Sept. 1944 (HstAD: RW 23/97). Sometimes whole villages trekked to safety together. From Karnitz, in Pomerania (now Poland), 156 residents travelled nearly 700 km between early March and 5 May 1945 to settle in the area near Lüneburg. Alexander von Plato and Almut Leh, ‘Ein unglaublicher Frühling’: Erfahrene Geschichte im Nachkriegsdeutschland, 1945–1948 (Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung, 1997), 199–204. 66. Gauleiter Grohé, announcement [early Sept. 1944] (HstAD: RW 23/97). 67. So-called Industrieverlagerungen (industrial transplants) were foreseen before the war and some 4,130 plants were displaced along with their employees. Groehler, Bombenkrieg, 284–93.

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68. Gauleiter Grohé, instruction, 11 Sept. 1944 (HstAD: RW 23/97) and order 30 Oct. 1944 (HstAD: RW 23/97). 69. Gauleiter Grohé, announcement, [early Sept. 1944] (HstAD: RW 23/97). 70. These orders are mentioned in a letter from head of Waffen-SS Arbeitskommando Bochumer Verein (a satellite of Buchenwald) to concentration camp commander Buchenwald, 18 Oct. 1944 (HstAD: RW 32/21). 71. Report from Nationalsozialistischer Führungsoffizier Flosdorff to his superiors, 15 Sept. 1944 (HstAD: RW 37/21). 72. HstAD: RW 37/21. 73. Political leaders, ordered to transport their wives and children to the nearest reception area and return to Alsdorf, had simply disappeared. Gestapostelle Cologne to Sicherheitspolizei and SD inspector, Düsseldorf, 16 Sept. 1944 (HstAD: RW 37/21). There were similar incidents in the East—see Elizabeth Harvey, Women and the Nazi East: Agents and Witnesses of Germanization (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003), 287–91. 74. Bormann draft, [fall] 1943 (BA: NS 25/1664). 75. Ministry of the Interior, circular, 11 Aug. 1944 (BA: R 1501/1365); Groehler, Bombenkrieg, 276–77. 76. Ministry of the Interior, circular, 11 Aug. 1944 (BA: R 1501/1365). On the atmosphere in bombed cities at war’s end, see Theo Findahl, Letzter Akt—Berlin: 1939– 1945, trans. Thyra Dohrenburg (Hamburg: Hammerich & Lesser, 1946). 77. Olaf Groehler perhaps overstates the extent to which civilian evacuations were shaped by the Nazis’ desire to give precedence to industry. Civilians’ growing disenchantment with government policies also played an important role. Groehler, Bombenkrieg, 279. 78. Stephenson, Württemberg, 301. 79. Minister of the Interior to Reich defense commissioners, 7 Sept. 1944 (HstAD: RW 23/97). 80. Hildebrandt to SS-Obergruppenführer Gutenberger, 12 Jan. 1945 (HstAD: RW 37/21). 81. Report of Propaganda Ministry representative Imhoff, 10 Feb. 1945 (BA: R 55/616). For a typical evacuation in Western Germany, March and April 1945, see Josef Wißkirchen, ed., “Zwangsevakuierte Pulheimer auf der Flucht vor dem Krieg: Tagebuch der Pulheimer Rotkreuzschwester Magdalena Ruckes, geb. Broich (28. Februar 1945–27. April 1945),” Pulheimer Beiträge zur Geschichte und Heimatkunde 12 (1988): 82–118. 82. Propaganda Ministry representative Imhoff, report, 29 Jan. 1945 (BA: R 55/616). 83. Propaganda Ministry representative Imhoff, report, 10 Feb. 1945 (BA: R 55/616). Cf. Günter Grass, Krebsgang, and subsequent works about the sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff, including Guido Knopp, Der Untergang der ‘Gustloff’: Wie es wirklich war (Munich: Econ Ullstein List Verlag, 2002). 84. Propaganda Ministry representative Imhoff, report, 10 Feb. 1945 (BA: R 55/616). 85. Propaganda Ministry representative Imhoff, report, 29 Jan. 1945 (BA: R 55/616). 86. Contemporaries commented on this problem in subsequent interviews. Harvey, Nazi East, 288. 87. Minutes of meeting at the Ministry of the Interior, 6 July 1944 (BA: R 1501/2876). After the meeting, the Propaganda Ministry issued lists of “explanations” (like the need

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to make room for military hospitals or provide housing for fortifications builders) that were to be used when presenting preemptive measures to the East Prussian population. Propaganda Ministry instructions, 13 July 1944 (BA: R 55/616). 88. Propaganda Ministry representative Imhoff, report, 29 Jan. 1945 (BA: R 55/616). 89. Propaganda Ministry representative Imhoff, reports, 29 Jan. and 15 Feb. 1945 (BA: R 55/616). 90. Propaganda Ministry representative Imhoff, report, 29 Jan. 1945 (BA: R 55/616). 91. Propaganda Ministry representative Imhoff, report, 28 Feb. 1945 (BA: R 55/616). 92. On debates about Germans as victims and perpetrators, see Introduction. 93. Harvey, Nazi East, 287–91. 94. Rapes by Russian soldiers were so prevalent that the Nazi government, interpreting them as an attempt to ensure “the biological death of the German Volk,” permitted otherwise outlawed abortions. See Propaganda Ministry representative Imhoff, report, 21 Feb. 1945 (BA: R55/616) and Party Chancellery circular, 28 Mar. 1945 (BA: NS 6/353). On the Red Army’s advance into Germany, and rape specifically, see Norman Naimark, The Russians in Germany: A History of the Soviet Zone of Occupation, 1945–1949 (Cambridge, MA: Belknap/Harvard, 1995), ch. 2. Cf. Michael R. Marrus, The Unwanted: European Refugees in the Twentieth Century (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 325–31. 95. On 22 March 1945, a government report commented blandly that 900,000 to 1 million people from Pomerania and areas further to the East had probably died, but exact figures are difficult to determine. Krause, Flucht, 172. According to Naimark, 1,362 members of Junker families died or were killed trying to flee, or in detention camps. Naimark, Russians, 146. Knopp points out that while the German navy brought 2.5 million people to safety by April 1945, another 33,000 died on the way. Knopp, Gustloff, 135. 96. Marion Gräfin Dönhoff, Namen die keiner mehr nennt: Ostpreußen—Menschen und Geschichte, 31st ed. (Düsseldorf/Cologne: Eugen Diederichs, 1962), 8. 97. This program was not very successful, as more Volksdeutsche had moved into the Reich than Reichsdeutsche moved to the East. On German women’s responses to their experiences as “colonists,” see Harvey, Nazi East, 291–93. 98. Propaganda Ministry to Gauleiter and local representatives, 13 July 1944 (BA: R 55/616). Cf. Krause, Flucht, 169–71. 99. Propaganda Ministry Representative Maertins, report, 14 July 1944 (BA: R 55/616). 100. Local German families and children, that is—evacuees were not billetted with Poles or other non-Germans. 101. Oberstudienrat Dr. Küper, “Die Oberschule für Jungen fern der Heimat in den Jahren 1943–45” (BA: Zsg. 140 /42). 102. Essen municipal government representative, report on trip to Austria and Bavaria, 23 June–16 July 1945 (Stadtarchiv Essen: 45/3740); Krause, Flucht, 198. On the same problem in France, see Footitt, War and Liberation, 76. 103. Evemarie Badstübner-Peters, “‘…aber stehlen konnten sie…’”: Nachkriegskindheit in der sowjetischen Besatzungszone,” Mitteilungungen aus der Kulturwissenschaftlichen Forschung 16 (1993): 250, cited in von Plato and Leh, Unglaublicher, 47. 104. Historians including Sarah Fishman, Hilary Footitt, Robert Moeller, Elizabeth Heineman, and Dominique Veillon have argued that 8 May 1945 is often given too much

238 E C E  G  F, –

credence as a major caesura. Evacuees, prisoners of war, demobilized soldiers, and other displaced persons (including former concentration camp inmates) had much to endure before returning to any semblance of normal life.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 8 1. Selbsthilfe was the newsletter of the Zentralverband der Fliegergeschädigten und Währungsgeschädigten, the main evacuee lobby group. Reprinted in Germany (West), Bundesminister für Vertriebene, Flüchtlinge und Kriegsgeschädigte, ed., Dokumente deutscher Kriegsschäden: Evakuierte, Kriegssachgeschädigte, Währungsgeschädigte; die geschichtliche und rechtliche Entwicklung, 7 vols. (Bonn, 1958), 1: 110. 2. On the Resistencialist myth, see Rousso, Vichy Syndrome, 16–18. 3. Major sources on reconstruction and the postwar fate of the German evacuees are Dokumente deutscher Kriegsschäden: Evakuierte, Kriegssachgeschädigte, Währungsgeschädigte (DDK), especially vols. 1 and 2; Heineman, What difference; Michael L. Hughes, Shouldering the Burdens of Defeat: West Germany and the Reconstruction of Social Justice (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1999); Krause, Flucht; Marrus, Unwanted, 296–345; Robert G. Moeller, Protecting Motherhood: Women and Family in the Politics of Postwar West Germany (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1993); Moeller, War Stories; Schroeder, “Long Road”; von Plato and Leh, Unglaublicher. For France, see Footitt, War and Liberation, 75; Kaspi, Juifs; Koreman, Expectation; Veillon, Vivre; Danièle Voldman, La reconstruction des villes françaises de 1940 à 1954: Histoire d’une politique (Paris: l’Harmattan, 1997). 4. Essen municipal government representative, report on trip to Austria and Bavaria, 23 June–16 July 1945 (Stadtarchiv Essen: 45/3740); Krause, Flucht, 198. 5. KLV school inspector in Augsburg to local head of government, 30 May 1945 (Stadtarchiv Essen: 45/3742); Essen municipal government representative, report on trip to Austria and Bavaria, 23 June–16 July 1945 (Stadtarchiv Essen: 45/3740). On Bavarian police responses to groups of apparently homeless youths, see José Raymund O. Canoy, “The Discreet Charm of the Police State: The Landpolizei and the Evolution of Public Order in Bavaria, 1945–1968,” (Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 2001), 127–29. On war and juvenile delinquency in France, see Sarah Fishman, The Battle for Children: World War II, Youth Crime and Juvenile Justice in Twentieth-Century France (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002). 6. PGDR circular, 12 Dec. 1944 (AN: F 9/3132). 7. A further million were partially bombed-out. Voldman, Reconstruction, 25. 8. Hampe, Zivile Luftschutz, 417. 9. Regierungspräsident’s office to Oberpräsident of Nord-Rheinprovinz, housing report, 18 Oct. 1945 (HstAD: NW 42/650). 10. Hamburg mayor Dr. Nevermann, speech, 27 July 1952, reprinted in DDK, 1: 117. 11. Voldman, Reconstruction, 32, 183. See also Janet Flanner, Paris Journal 1944– 1965 (New York: Atheneum, 1965). 12. Poor conditions and Allied requisitions also occasioned new (or renewed) evacuations. Krause, Flucht, 190–98. Social workers’ reports in HstAD: NW 42/232 describe

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conditions in German cities; see also Stig Dagerman, German Autumn, trans. Robin Fulton (London: Quartet Books, 1988). 13. Director of Caritas (Cologne) and Landesrat Hecker, meeting notes, 9 Aug. 1945 (HstAD: NW 42/541). 14. Krause, Flucht, 199. 15. Report on evacuees’ situation, 21 May 1946 (Stadtarchiv Essen: 45/3745). 16. Essen municipal government representative, report on trip to Austria and Bavaria, 23 June–16 July 1945 (Stadtarchiv Essen: 45/3740); Hans Krasemann to Regierungspräsident Düsseldorf, final report on school evacuations, 11 Sept. 1946 (Stadtarchiv Essen: 45/3743). 17. Regierungspräsident Düsseldorf to Oberbürgermeister and Landräte, 30 May 1945 (HstAD: NW 42/542). 18. Swedish journalist Stig Dagerman and press photographer Willy van Heekern reported on this occurrence. Dagerman, Autumn, 51–58; Krause, Flucht, 339. 19. Report on evacuees’ situation, 21 May 1946 (Stadtarchiv Essen: 45/3745). 20. See chapter 5. Bureaucracies were, however, so overburdened that threats to take away ration cards rarely could be enforced. Compulsory repatriations occurred in all occupation zones, as did exchanges of displaced individuals between various zones. Krause, Flucht, 205–13. On historical continuities in postwar policing, see Canoy, “Discreet,” especially ch. 2. 21. Préfet of Manche to Mayor of Domjean, 28 Aug. 1944 (AD Manche 3 Z/379); sous-préfet to préfet, 1 Sept. 1944 (AD Manche: 3 Z/68). 22. “Vergeßt die Evakuierten nicht,” Selbsthilfe, Nr. 7 (1950) reprinted in DDK, 1: 110. On evacuees’ use of the concept of an urban Heimat to reinforce connections to their home cities, see Schroeder, “Urban Heimat,” 307–24. 23. Hamburg mayor Dr. Nevermann, speech, 27 July 1952, reprinted in DDK, 1: 117. Cf. Lorenz Fischer, “Die Rückkehrwilligkeit Evakuierter und ihre statistische Erfassung: Methodenkritische Bermerkung zu der Zählung von 1951,” Allgemeines Statistisches Archiv: Organ der deutschen statistischen Gesellschaft 36, no. 3 (1952): 258. 24. “‘Wohnrechts-Anerkennung’ sichert die spätere Rückkehr,” Württemberger Zeitung, 28 Mar. 1944, reprinted in DDK, 1: 93–94; Recker, Sozialpolitik, 128ff. and 250ff. 25. “Tag der Evakuierten in Hamburg,” Selbsthilfe, Nr. 15 (1952), reprinted in DDK, 1: 116. 26. Essen municipal government representative, report on trip to Austria and Bavaria, 23 June–16 July 1945 (Stadtarchiv Essen: 45/3740). Cf. Krause, Flucht, 194. 27. Martha Lothringer, “Bericht über die Barackenwohnungen Hindenburgstr. 145– 149 a–h,” 28 May 1947 (HstAD: NW 42/232). 28. Robert G. Moeller, “Reconstructing the Family in Reconstruction Germany: Women and Social Policy in the Federal Republic, 1949–1955,” in West Germany under Construction: Politics, Society, and Culture in the Adenauer Era, ed. Robert G. Moeller (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 1997), 119–20, 123–24. 29. Free French and Allied plans to assist civilians during the Liberation may be found in AN: 72 AJ/511 and AN: F 60/894; cf. Andrew Shennan, Rethinking France: Plans for Renewal 1940–1946 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989).

240 E C E  G  F, –

30. Other evacuees received just 15 days’ extra allocation. PGDR note, 28 Aug. 1945 (AN: F 9/3137). 31. PGDR, DR documents, mid–1945 (AN: F 9/3137). 32. Voldman, Reconstruction, 176. 33. Footitt, War and Liberation, 75. 34. On food, see Flanner, Paris Journal, 4–5; Koreman, Expectation, 148–88; Tartakowsky, Manifestations, 498; Veillon, Vivre, 296–300; Voldman, Reconstruction, 197–208. 35. Voldman, Reconstruction, 176, 179–181. 36. French army directive, 15 Mar. 1945 (SHAT: 10 P/224). 37. On victim status in postwar Germany, see Hughes, Shouldering; Krause, Flucht; Moeller, War Stories; Schroeder, “Long Road,” especially ch. 5. 38. Reprinted in DDK, 1: 119. 39. Comment of Dr. Hundt, 26 Sept. 1951 (HstAD: NW 42/487). 40. Bundesevakuiertengesetz, 14 July 1953 (Bundesgesetzblatt I, 1953): 586–90; Krause, Flucht, 252, 279; and Schroeder, “Long Road,” 260–65. 41. United States Government, 81st Congress, First Session. Senate Report, “Knowledge of the Marshall Plan in Europe: France,” Report of the Joint Committee on Economic Cooperation, 19 Oct. 1949 (legislative day 17 Oct. 1949) (AN: F 60 bis/363). I am endebted to Katherine Kendall for this reference. See also Entr’aide Française, “Aide Aux Sinistres et Réfugiés, [ca. Mar. 1947] (ADP: 24 W/1). 42. Commission des méthodes du Ministère des PGDR, report, 2 Feb. 1945–25 Mar. 1945 (AN: F9/3129). 43. H. Martin, Memento des Sinistrés et Réfugiés: Victimes de Guerre, preface by Robert Garric (Paris: Les Publications Sociales Agricoles, 1945); PGDR and Entr’aide Française circular, 27 Oct. 1945 (AN: F 9/3132); Koreman, Expectation, 35, 39. 44. Krause, Flucht, 221–25. 45. Jeffrey Herf, Divided Memory: The Nazi Past in the Two Germanies (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997), 80. 46. HstAD: NW 42/546. 47. “Die Ostzone verstaatlicht die Fürsorge,” Wirtschafts-Zeitung (Stuttgart), 19 Sept. 1947 (HstAD: NW 42/590). 48. On the Entr’aide Française, see AN: 307 AP/158-160; ADP: 24 W/1 and 19. 49. Decree liquidating the Entr’aide Française, 21 Jan. 1949 (AD Cantal: 419 F/63). 50. On German moral reconstruction, see Heineman, What difference, and Moeller, Protecting. On France, see Fishman, Battle for Children; Koreman, Expectation; and Pollard, Reign, 200–202. 51. The term is Elizabeth Heineman’s—see Heineman, What difference. 52. Fully half were miners, an occupation both demanding and essential. Günter Elbin, “Evakuierte würden gern zu Fuß zurückkehren,” Neue Ruhr-Zeitung (Essen), 3 August 1951, reprinted in DDK, 1: 113; “Vergeßt die Evakuierten nicht,” Düsseldorfer Nachrichten, 24 Oct. 1950, reprinted in DDK, 1: 111. 53. Allied regulations, 31 Mar. 1947, in North-Rhine Westphalian Minister for Social Affairs, letter to local offices, 28 May 1947 (HstAD: NW 42–85). 54. Hans Wörner, “Im Ruhrgebiet, 12 September,” Westdeutsche Allgemeine, 13 Sept. 1951 reprinted in DDK, 1: 114.

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55. Fischer, “Rückkehrwilligkeit,” 258; Kugler-Euler, comment on the Bundesevakuiertengesetz, 13, cited in DDK, 1: 111. 56. See chapter 4. 57. Social worker’s report, 27 May 1947 (HstAD: NW 42/232); German policing of Sinti and Roma underlines this link. Michael Zimmermann, “Ausgrenzung, Ermordung, Ausgrenzung: Normalität und Exzeß in der polizeilichen Zigeunerverfolgung in Deutschland (1870–1980),” in ‘Sicherheit’ und ‘Wohlfahrt’: Polizei, Gesellschaft und Herrschaft im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert, ed. Alf Lüdtke (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1992), 344–70. 58. Hans Wörner, “Im Ruhrgebiet, 12 September,” Westdeutsche Allgemeine, 13 Sept. 1951, reprinted in DDK, 1: 114. 59. Pollard, Reign, 201. 60. Charles de Gaulle, cited in Flanner, Paris Journal, 20. Since they saw “war circumstances [as] both extraordinary and temporary,” Fishman has found that the war did not lead French scholars to rethink models that attributed juvenile delinquency, for instance, to broken families or psychological problems. Fishman, Battle for Children, 163. 61. Voldman, Reconstruction, 181. 62. Home and family had played a similar role after the débacle of 1940. Pollard, Reign, 31. 63. Meyer and Schulze, Auswirkung, 215. 64. Krause, Flucht, 262–63; Schroeder, “Long Road,” 251–60. Questions were raised about the survey’s methods, and the number of evacuees hoping to return may have been considerably higher. Fischer, “Rückkehrwilligkeit,” 256–62. 65. Krause, Flucht, 319–20. 66. Nolan, “Germans as Victims,” 16–17. On Sebald and the ongoing debate about Germans as war victims, see Introduction. 67. Böll defined and praised Trümmerliteratur in Heinrich Böll, “Bekenntnis zur Trümmerliteratur,” in Hierzulande (Munich: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 1963), 128–34. 68. Sebald, Luftkrieg und Literatur, 14. Postwar urban planners deplored air raids’ civilian victims, but also noted (like Goebbels who had mused that Allied bombing would open cities “for modern traffic”) that the tabula rasa created by the bombs would enable rationalization and modernization. Goebbels, 25 Jan. 1944, 166; on urbanisme during the Vichy regime and after, see Voldman, Reconstruction. 69. Examples of postwar literature about children’s evacuation experiences are Erika Kossol, Ein Kind will nach Hause: Überlebenstage einer Zwölfjährigen quer durch Deutschland im Frühjahr 1945 (Frankfurt am Main: R. Fischer Verlag, 1989), and Marie, Carnet. 70. The survey’s most relevant parts are: USSBS IV 64b; USSBS II 40. See also Maier, “Targeting,” 435; Richard Overy, Why the Allies Won (New York: W.W. Norton, 1995), 232–33. 71. USSBS IV 64b, 71. 72. SD-report, 18 Nov. 1943 (BA: R 58/190).

EEE

  

S

   touch many aspects of life and involve a plethora of government and nongovernment bodies, studying them requires sampling from a range of sources. Despite wartime destruction, moreover, more material survives than possibly could be consulted for a single book. The few existing studies of civilian evacuations pointed to many useful sources and helped compensate for gaps in my own research. Here, I have listed only the most significant groups of archival files I used—more detailed references may be found in the footnotes. In Germany, the Ministry of the Interior (BA: R 1501) is the main source for documents about the evacuations. Files at the Bundesarchiv in Berlin-Lichterfelde contain, among other materials, records about the evacuees’ family allowances that allow financial arrangements and other practical aspects of evacuation to be reconstructed. The files of Goebbels’ Propaganda Ministry are also useful, particularly after the creation of the Interministerielle Luftkriegsschädenausschuß in January 1943. The Luftkriegsschädenausschuß issued bulletins on all aspects of air war that may be found in BA: R 55/447. The Bundesarchiv houses many documents from the Nationalsozialistische Volkswohlfahrt (BA: NS 37), some of which were moved there from the former German Democratic Republic archives in Potsdam. These materials are supplemented at the local level by dossiers in regional archives, most notably the Nordrheinwestfälische Staatsarchiv, Münster. The Generallandesarchiv Karlsruhe also has a significant collection on the NSV, which was essential for understanding the Ruhrgebiet evacuees’ experience in a typical reception area, Baden (GLAKHE: 465d). Research into the children’s evacuation programs (the Kinderlandverschikkung), specifically, is hampered by the fact that the files of the Reichsdienststelle KLV, in charge of evacuations at the Reich level, have not survived. However, dossiers from the Hitler Youth (BA: NS 28), the Reichsministerium für Wissenschaft, Erziehung und Volksbildung (BA: R 4901), and the NS-Lehrerbund/Hauptamt für Erzieher (BA: NS 12) compensate partially for this gap. Documents collected by the “Dokumentationsgemeinschaft KLV,” now stored at the Bundesarchiv in Berlin-Lichterfelde (BA: Zsg. 140), are also helpful, and material at the Stadtarchiv Essen (Archiv nach 1945) illuminates the situation of KLV children at war’s end. The reports of the Sicherheitsdienst, though they must be read sensitively, provide invaluable insight into popular mood and how the local authorities viewed

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evacuation and evacuees. Many of these reports have been published in a collection edited by Hans Boberach, but for simplicity’s sake, references I give are to the originals in the Bundesarchiv (BA: R 58, etc.).1 In France, as in Germany, the Ministry of the Interior is the main source for material on evacuees (AN: F 1a). Its files may be supplemented by the documents of the Etat Français (AN: 2 AG) and by material collected under the rubric of Services Extraordinaires des Temps de Guerre (AN: F 23). The best sources on the Secours National and evacuees are the Délégation générale de la région de Paris at the Archives de Paris (ADP: 24 W) and the papers of Robert Garric, Archives Départementales du Cantal (AD Cantal: 419 F). To gain a better appreciation of evacuations in Normandy, I visited the region’s five departmental archives. For the case study of Cherbourg, the records of the sous-préfet at the Archives Départementales de la Manche (AD Manche: 3 Z) and the Archives Municipales de Cherbourg (Boîte 2 Défense Passive, Bombardements, Évacuations) proved especially rich, helping compensate for the wartime destruction of Manche’s prefectural records. Since an important goal of this project was to analyze the interaction of the Germans and the French in civilian evacuations, sources dealing with FrancoGerman relations were of particular value. The documents of the German embassy in Paris, which took a special interest in C.O.S.I., and through it, evacuees, are at the Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amtes in Berlin. The Archives Nationales have several series of documents relating to the German occupation, most notably AN: 40 AJ, which includes material seized in Germany at the end of the war and brought to Paris. The Bundesarchiv-Militärchiv in Freiburg preserves the files of the Militärbefehlshaber Frankreich, as well as other sources relating to military aspects of the occupation. Its French counterpart, the Service Historique de l’Armée de Terre, proved less fruitful for my purposes, simply because the French army had little to do with organizing evacuations. Collections of newspaper clippings, notably that of the Deutsche Arbeitsfront at the Bundesarchiv (BA: NS 5 IV), allow a wide sampling of the German press and contain material on France that shows, for instance, how closely the Germans tracked French measures to assist civilian evacuees. Finally, documents in the French departmental archives are an underexploited resource for understanding the German occupation. They give a remarkable sense of the day-to-day interaction between local French authorities and German Field Commanders and unparalleled insight into how the occupation worked at ground level. NOTE TO NOTE ON SOURCES 1. Boberach, Meldungen.

EEE

 ARCHIVAL SOURCES France Archives Nationales, Paris 2 AG État Français 40 AJ Archives Allemandes 1940–44 41 AJ Organismes Issues de l’Armistice 72 AJ Comité d’Histoire de la Deuxième Guerre Mondiale 307 AP Fonds Raoul Dautry 382 AP Fonds René Cassin F 1a Ministère de l’Intérieur F 9 Affaires Militaires F 22 Travail et Sécurité Sociale F 23 Services Extraordinaires des Temps de Guerre F 41 Information F 60 Secrétariat Général du Gouvernement et Services du Premier Ministre 3 W Bureau Central de Renseignements et d’Action Archives Départementales du Calvados 319 W Versement de la Sous-Préfecture de Bayeux 808 W Versement de la Sous-Préfecture de Lisieux M 15741–45 Versement du Cabinet du Préfet R 2295 Versement du Service de la Défense Passive X 1761/1–2 Série X Z 2852–55 Versement de la Sous-Préfecture de Vire Archives Départementales du Cantal 419 F Fonds du Secours National Archives Départementales de l’Eure 11 W 20–21 Rapports Mensuels du Préfet à la Feldkommandantur 13 W Préfet de l’Eure—Correspondance avec la Feldkommandantur 14 W Préfecture: Service des Réfugiés 40 W Préfet de l’Eure—Direction de la Population 70 W Cabinet du Préfet 1290 W Sous-Préfecture des Andelys

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Archives Départementales de la Manche I J/5 Fonds de M. de Kergorlay (Croix Rouge Française) 127 W Sous-Préfecture de Cherbourg 1012 W Sous-Préfecture de Cherbourg 3 Z Sous-Préfecture de Cherbourg Archives Départementales de l’Orne 41 J Fonds Vigile 8 SON Fonds Chazot 1–2 W Cabinet du Préfet 292 W Cabinet du Préfet Archives Départementales de la Seine-Maritime 51 W Cabinet du Préfet 200 W Direction Régionale des Renseignements Généraux 1408 W Sous-Préfecture de Dieppe Archives de Paris 1011/44/1 Cabinet du Préfet 1012/57/1 Cabinet du Préfet 5221/56/1 Ministère de la Santé Publique 24 W Secours National 1027 W Conseil de Paris 1103 W Mairie du 16ème Arrondissement Archives Municipales de Cherbourg Boîte 2 Défense Passive, Bombardements, Évacuations Le Mémorial de Caen (Musée pour la Paix) FQ 73 Rapport sur les Villes Sinistrés de la Manche T Témoignages Service Historique de l’Armée de Terre 2 N Secrétariat Général du Conseil Supérieur de la défense nationale 2 P Secrétariat d’Etat à la Guerre

Germany Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amtes Botschaft Paris Politische Abteilung I Luft Bundesarchiv Berlin-Lichterfelde NS 5 IV Deutsche Arbeitsfront—Arbeitswissenschaftliches Institut—Zeitungsausschnittsammlung NS 6 Partei-Kanzlei der NSDAP NS 9 Auslandsorganisation der NSDAP NS 12 NS-Lehrerbund/Hauptamt für Erzieher NS 25 Hauptamt für Kommunalpolitik

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NS 26 Hauptarchiv der NSDAP NS 28 Hitler-Jugend NS 37 Hauptamt für Volkswohlfahrt NS 45 Regionale Dienststellen der NSDAP u. Verwandter Organisationen in den besetzten, ein- und angegliederten Gebieten Personalakten of Hilgenfeldt, Schirach, Dabel R 2 Reichsfinanzministerium R 36 Deutscher Gemeindetag R 43 Reichskanzlei R 55 Reichsminister für Volksaufklärung und Propaganda R 58 Reichssicherheitshauptamt (besetzte Westgebiete, Luftkrieg und Luftschutzmaßnahmen, Wohlfahrts- und Fürsorgeleistungen) R 70 Frankreich – Polizeidienststellen im Bereich des Militärbefehlhabers Frankreich R 1501 Reichsminister des Innern R 3001 Reichsjustizministerium R 3102 Statistisches Reichsamt R 4901 Reichsministerium für Wissenschaft, Erziehung und Volksbildung R 4902 Deutsches Auslandswissenschaftliches Institut Zsg. 140 Sammlung Dokumentations-Arbeitsgemeinschaft und Freundeskreis KLV e.V. Bundesarchiv: Militärarchiv, Freiburg RH 19 Heeresgruppenkommandos RH 34 Truppenkommandanturen RH 36 Kommandantur der Militärverwaltung RL 4 Inspektion des zivilen Luftschutzes RL 13 Luftschutztruppe RL 19 Luftgaukommandos RM 45 IV Dienst- und Kommandostellen (in France and Belgium) RW 24 Rüstungsdienststellen in Frankreich RW 35 Militärbefehlshaber Frankreich Generallandesarchiv Karlsruhe 465d NSDAP Verbände und Polizei—Gauamt für Volkswohlfahrt Nordrhein-Westfälisches Hauptstaatsarchiv, Düsseldorf BR 1131 Polizei-Präsidium Köln—Luftschutzangelegenheiten NW 42 Ministerium für Arbeit, Gesundheit und Soziales NW 61 Ministerium für Arbeit, Gesundheit und Soziales Regierung Düsseldorf RW 23 NS-Organisationen (in Aachen, Düsseldorf, Köln) RW 37 Nachgeordnete Dienststellen der Gestapo Düsseldorf RW 53 Deutscher Gemeindetag Nordrhein-Westfälisches Staatsarchiv, Münster NSDAP Gauleitung Westfalen-Nord, Gauamt für Volkswohlfahrt NSDAP Kreis- und Ortsgruppen

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Oberpräsidium Münster Stadtarchiv Düsseldorf IV Verwaltungsakten der Stadt Düsseldorf nach 1933—Notstandsmaßnahmen der Stadtverwaltung nach Fliegerangriffen XXIII Nationalsozialismus Stadtarchiv Essen Archiv nach 1945—Kinderlandverschickung Notizia Karl Hahn Sammlung Norbert Krüger Deutsches Rotes Kreuz, Bonn 00164 Zeitungsausschnitte 00175 Einsätze während des Zweiten Weltkrieges 00678 Neuordnung nach 1945 NS-Dokumentationszentrum, Köln Z 20 042 Sophie Rebling

NEWSPAPERS, PERIODICALS, AND NEWSREELS Actualités mondiales (newsreel: sampled) Die Sirene (1933–36; 1938–40) France Actualités (newsreel: sampled) Gasschutz und Luftschutz (1932–41) Mitteilungsblatt des Gaues Baden/Elsass für die Umquartierten (1944) NS-Helfer (1938–41) Westfälische Landeszeitung—Rote Erde (1943)

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EEE

 (Italicized page references refer to figures and tables.) Aachen, 161–62, 168. See also Köln-Aachen air raid protection. See air war; civil defense; evacuations; evacuees air war fears about in interwar period, 13–17 and “Euthanasia” program. See “Euthanasia” program and air war and Holocaust. See Holocaust and air war and “asocials.” See “asocials” and air war experience as reflected in postwar literature, 177 present-day debates about, 6–7, 177–78, 232n2 See also civil defense; evacuations; war victims Alençon. See war relief for French civilians in 1944, organized from Alençon allocation des réfugiés. See evacuees’ allowance, France Alsace, 6, 27, 48, 54 evacuations from, 37–38, 64, 142 repatriation to, 40, 171, 173 See also evacuations from border zones in 1939–1940; Lorraine Alsace-Lorraine. See Alsace; Lorraine; evacuations from border zones in 1939–1940 “asocial” colonies Burhag (Dortmund), 145–47 Hashude (Bremen), 145, 147 “asocials” and “indésirables,” 2, 6, 11, 53, 84, 128–29, 144–50, 179. See also evacuees and moral issues Auflockerung. See evacuations, dispersion

Baden as vulnerable region, 18 as reception area, 38, 58, 78–82, 85, 87–88, 96, 99–104, 106–107, 110 and Jewish evacuees, 129–130 and “asocial” evacuees, 145–47 See also popular protest, Witten demonstration Baden-Elsass, Gau, 79, 87, 107, 199n19. See also Alsace, Baden Bavarian crucifix campaign. See popular protest, Bavarian crucifix campaign Berlin as vulnerable city, 18, 59, 98 evacuations from, 51–53, 55, 58, 73–74, 78, 99, 106, 164–65 “wild returns” to, 100, 102, 106 visit to by Secours National representatives, 70 postwar repatriation to, 169, 175 billeting. See evacuees, accommodation of Bochum, 102, 105, 161. See also WestfalenSüd, Gau bombed-out French (sinistrés), 63, 69, 118, 154, 159, 168, 172, 174 Germans (Fliegergeschädigte), 56–57, 75, 136, 147 See also evacuations; evacuees; Holocaust and air war Bon Sauveur asylum. See psychiatric hospitals, Bon Sauveur asylum (Caen) Bormann, Martin, 75, 109, 111, 160, 162 Boulogne-Billancourt, 50, 63–64, 69, 134 Bundesevakuiertengesetz (Federal Evacuees’ Law), 173, 177 Burhag. See “asocial” colonies, Burhag (Dortmund)

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Caen, 4, 142, 144, 152, 155–59, 168 Calvados, 39, 65, 84, 142, 152, 155–59. See also Caen Caritas, 40–41, 169, 174 Castrop-Rauxel Oberschule für Jungen, 165 Central Association for Bomb-Damaged and Currency-Damaged Individuals. See Zentralverband der Fliegergeschädigten und Währungsgeschädigten Centres scolaires de repliement (School Evacuation Centers), 66–67 charitable organizations and assistance to evacuees. See C.O.S.I.; NSV; Secours National Cherbourg as vulnerable city, 4, 62–63 evacuations from, 80, 83–84, 89–90 “wild returns” to, 92–93, 149, 152, 153, 155–56 postwar repatriation to, 156, 170, 172 See also discipline of evacuees, obligatory evacuations (Cherbourg) child evacuees. See evacuations of children; Kinderlandverschickung child support, 60 civil defense, 110, 129, 162. See also air war, fears about in interwar period; evacuations, discourse and planning in interwar coercion in evacuation. See discipline of evacuees; popular protest, Witten demonstration Cognacq, Gabriel, 68–71 Cologne. See Köln (Cologne); KölnAachen, Gau Comité Ouvrier de Secours Immédiat. See C.O.S.I. Commission supérieur de la défense passive (High Commission on Civil Defense, France), 25–26 comparative methodology, 4, 6, 10, 105 C.O.S.I. (Comité Ouvrier de Secours Immédiat), 8, 47, 69–70, 89–90, 134–36, 153, 156, 174 Croix Rouge. See Red Cross, France custody of children. See discipline of evacuees, custody of children

Danzig (Gdansk), 163–64 D-day (6 June 1944), 155. See also evacuations and Normandy landings, 1944 Déat, Marcel, 44, 68–69, 153, 156 De Grazia, Victoria, 5, 95–96, 97, 111, 216n94 demarcation line (France). See “Exode” (France 1940, repatriation) demonstrations. See popular protest dépaysement. See evacuees, homesickness deportations, 34, 117, 129–137, 212n37. See also Holocaust and air war; Jews Die Sirene. See Sirene, Die Dieppe, 62–63, 113, 117, 122, 232n4 Direction des Réfugiés (Refugee Bureau, France), 10, 46, 65–67, 89–90, 115, 122, 124, 157 discipline of evacuees and custody of children, 122, 146 and evacuees’ allowance, 60, 81, 83–84, 122, 160, 213n38 Heimkehrerausweis, 35–36 obligatory evacuations Cherbourg, 11, 63, 92, 94–97, 112–27 France, 29, 63, 66, 116, 149, 152 Germany, 29, 53, 99, 106, 219n137 using ration cards, 4–5 France, 156, 170 Germany, 147, 160, 169–70, 175 and Reichsbahn, 106–07 and school closures. See school closures and “wild” returnees,” 4–5, 35, 92–93, 160, 170, 178 dispersion. See evacuations, dispersal and dispersion Donaueschingen, 104 Dortmund, evacuees from, 60, 75, 99, 107, 130. See also “asocial” colonies, Burhag (Dortmund) Douhet, Giulio, 13–15, 23. See also air war, fears about in interwar period Düsseldorf (city), 173, 175. See also Düsseldorf, Gau Düsseldorf, Gau, 58, 132–33, 137–41, 162

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Eggebrecht (Münster regional police major), 17, 28 éloignement. See evacuations, éloignement Elsass. See Alsace; Bade-Elsass, Gau Entr’aide d’Hiver du Maréchal, 47, 68–70 Entr’aide Française, 159, 174. See also Secours National, postwar Essen (city), 169. See also Essen, Gau Essen, Gau, 58, 80, 92, 111 Eure, 65, 66, 92, 156 “Euthanasia” program and air war, 2, 6, 11, 128–29, 137–43. See also psychiatric patients and air war, France evacuations and administrative irresponsibility, 47, 141, 164 from border zones in 1939–1940, 25–28, 32–38, 47–49, 59, 137–39, 142 of children, France, 7, 16–17, 36–37, 46, 63–67, 179 Jews, 131 and moral issues, 87, 90, 148 “wild returns” of, 92 repatriation after 1944, 168, 179 See also Centres scolaires de repliement of children, Germany, 2, 7, 11, 46, 59–60, 179 decision to begin (1940), 51–56 Jews, 129, 132 and moral issues, 85–87, 144–47 and religious education, 79–80 “wild returns” of, 92 at war’s end, 161, 165–66 repatriation after 1945, 168–69, 171, 175–76 See also Kinderlandverschickung compulsory. See discipline of evacuees, obligatory evacuations discipline. See discipline of evacuees discourse and planning in interwar, 3, 10 France, 13–17, 20–27, 29–30 Germany, 13–23, 25, 27–30 dispersal and dispersion (local, shortterm evacuations)

in France, 22, 25–26, 114, 154–56, 159 in Germany, 26, 35, 56, 162 distance to reception area in France, 25–26, 78, 127, 155–56, 158–59 in Germany 35, 125, 162, divergent views about, 51, 61, 65, 113, 154–56, 178 éloignement, 26 and family unity, 1–2, 5, 11–12, 178–79 in pre-war discourse, 14–16, 19, 21–22, 25 in wartime France, 46, 51, 61, 72, 66–67, 94–97 in wartime Germany, 34, 59, 72, 94–97 in postwar repatriation, 167–168, 175–77 See also discipline of evacuees, obligatory evacuations, Cherbourg; popular protest, Witten demonstration historiography of, 4, 6–9 and Normandy landings, 1944, 151–59, 166 outside of pre-1939 German Reich, 10, 54, 85, 199n18,19 perceptions of in postwar period, 128, 177–78, 183n13, 224n2 and regional differences, 11, 37–38, 73–74, 76–78, 82, 84, 87–90, 102, 119 and religious differences, 11, 37–38, 78–80, 102 terminology and euphemisms, 9–10, 19, 132, 152, 138 at war’s end, France. See evacuations and Normandy landings, 1944 at war’s end, Germany East, 151–52, 163–66 West, 151–52, 159–63, 166 of workers’ wives, divergent French and German views about, 97, 103, 112–13, 123–24, 126–27 See also air war, fears about in

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interwar period; “asocials” and “indésirables”; Centres scolaires de repliement; evacuees; “Exode” (France 1940); Holocaust and air war; Kinderlandverschickung; psychiatric patients and air war; discipline of evacuees, obligatory evacuations (Cherbourg); popular protest, Witten demonstration evacuees accommodation of in pre-war planning, 27 in France, 38–39, 64–67, 76–78, 152–54 in Germany, 33–34, 52–53, 55–59, 75–76, 78, 162, 165 in postwar, 167–72, 175 “asocials” as. See “asocials” and “indésirables” children. See evacuations of children depictions of as animals, children, 44 and employment, France, 80–82, 83–84, 112 and employment, Germany, 60, 80–84, 102, 175–76 and gender, 44, 84, 81–82, 96, 183n16 and homesickness, 4, 11, 177–78 in France (dépaysement), 27, 64, 66, 78, 80–81 in Germany, 54, 83, 103, “indispensables” category (France), 115–17, 123–26 and morale, 7–8, 30, 32, 68, 74, 80 in pre-war discourse, 15, 19 in wartime France, 71, 78, 90 in wartime Germany, 33, 56, 87, 91, 105–09, 134, 161 in postwar, 172, 178 and moral issues, 11, 74 in wartime France, 64, 84, 86–87, 89–90 in wartime Germany, 6, 41, 54, 83–89 in postwar, including family vulnerability, 168, 175–77 psychiatric patients as. See psychiatric patients as evacuees

and repatriation after war’s end, 167–77 and repatriation after “Exode” in France. See “Exode” (France 1940), repatriation following See also “asocials” and “indésirables;” discipline of evacuees; evacuations; Holocaust and air war; Jews; neighbours, as helpers to husbands of evacuees; psychiatric patients and air war; war relief, politicization of evacuees’ allowance in France, 40, 64, 81, 89, 118, 122 and concerns about excessive income, 84 and employment, 84 in postwar, 171 in Germany, 34, 52, 59–61, 122, 129–30, 192n16, 217n114 and concerns about excessive income, 103 and employment, 81–83 at war’s end, 160–61 in postwar, 169 evacuees’ discipline. See discipline of evacuees evacuees’ financial situation. See evacuees’ allowance Evakuierungen. See evacuations; Jews Evans, Richard, 98 “Exode” (France 1940), 38–49 contemporary interpretations of, impact on evacuation policies, 3, 11, 31–33, 63–64, 71, 93, 151–52, 179 repatriation following, 40, 62, 131, 142 expellees (Heimatvertriebene), 164, 167–68, 170, 172–73 Fliegergeschädigte. See bombed-out Germans forcible evacuations. See deportations; discipline of evacuees; popular protest, Witten demonstration France, rumour of German evacuees sent to. See Evacuations outside of pre-1939 German Reich

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Fritzsche, Peter, 18, 20 Gasschutz und Luftschutz, 15, 18–20, 23 Gau Bade-Elsass. See Bade-Elsass, Gau Gau Düsseldorf. See Düsseldorf, Gau Gau Essen. See Essen, Gau Gau Köln-Aachen. See Köln-Aachen, Gau Gau Westfalen-Nord. See Westfalen-Nord, Gau Gau Westfalen-Süd. See Westfalen-Süd, Gau Gdansk. See Danzig Gellately, Robert, 7, 213n48, 226n38 Giesler, Alfred, 15–16, 21 Goebbels, Joseph, 31, 48, 73–75, 91–92, 140 and response to Witten demonstration, 106–10 Göring, Hermann, 52, 57, 99, 129, 136 and pre-war civil defense, 17–19, 25, 27 Grimme (German artillery general, retired), 19–22 Grohé, Josef (Gauleiter Köln-Aachen), 101, 109, 161 Hadamar. See psychiatric hospitals, Hadamar asylum Hamburg as vulnerable city, 50, 59 evacuations from, 51–53, 55, 58, 139–40, 145 “wild returns” to, 92 and reassignment of Jewish property to bomb victims, 133 postwar repatriation to, 168, 170, 172 Hamm, 102, 105 Hampe, Erich, 17–18, 110 Hashude. See “asocial” colonies, Hashude (Bremen) Heimatvertriebene. See expellees (Heimatvertriebene) Heimkehrerausweis. See discipline of evacuees, Heimkehrerausweis Heineman, Elizabeth, 84, 183n16 Hilgenfeldt, Erich, 41, 45, 60, 70, 163 Himmler, Heinrich, 60, 94, 109, 111, 162

Hitler, Adolf, 52, 55, 80, 138, 140 and Witten demonstration, 97, 104, 109–10 Hitlerfreiplatzspende, 78 Hitlerjugend. See Hitler Youth Hitler Youth, 25, 52–53, 80. See also Kinderlandverschickung Hoffmann, Albert (Gauleiter WestfalenSüd), 85–87, 100–02, 106–07, 109–10, 121, 146–47 Holland. See evacuations outside of pre1939 German Reich Holocaust and air war, 2, 6, 10–11, 34, 128–29, 149–50, 179 in France, 69, 134–37 in Germany, 57, 129–134, 137 See also Jews Hungary. See evacuations outside of pre1939 German Reich “indésirables.” See “asocials” and “indésirables” indispensables. See evacuees, “indispensables” category (France) Innere Mission, 40–41, 174 Interministerial Air War Damages Committee. See Interministerielle Luftkriegsschädenausschuß Interministerial Service for Protection against the Events of War. See S.I.P.E.G. Interministerielle Luftkriegsschädenausschuß (Interministerial Air War Damages Committee), 91, 110 Jacobi (German Ministry of the Interior representative), 94, 109–10 Jews, 41, 43, 53, 171, 173–74. See also Holocaust and air war Karlsruhe, 17, 28, 33 Kehl, 34 Kershaw, Ian, 7–8. See also popular protest, Bavarian crucifix campaign Kinderlandverschickung (KLV), 6, 53–56, 79–80, 83, 99, 129 children’s experience of, 54, 80, 177 decision to begin in 1940, 51–53, 55

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at war’s end, 165 perceptions of in postwar period. See evacuations, perceptions of in postwar period See also evacuations of children, Germany; school closures KLV. See Kinderlandverschickung Kock, Gerhard, 6, 53, 55, 98 Köln (Cologne), 50, 57–58, 163, 169, 191n78. See also Köln-Aachen, Gau Köln-Aachen, Gau, 58, 101, 109. See also Grohe, Josef; Köln (Cologne) Lacombe, Jean, 91, 119. See also S.I.P.E.G. Le Havre, 4, 62–63, 113, 117, 122, 149, 168 as vulnerable city, 4, 62 evacuations from, 63, 113, 117, 122, 149 postwar repatriation to, 168 Le Wita, Henri, 20–22 liaison with evacuees in France, 89–90 in Germany, 82, 87–89, 103–04, 106, 110, 130, 145–47 See also Spratte (liaison officer in Baden) Lorient, 50, 65, 113–14, 116, 121 Lorraine, 6, 27, 54 evacuations from, 37–38, 64, 78–79 repatriation to, 40, 62, 168, 171, 173 See also Alsace; evacuations from border zones in 1939–1940 Luftkriegsschädenausschuß. See Interministerielle Luftkriegsschädenausschuß Lünen,102, 105 Maier, Charles S., 235n56 Manche, 65, 78, 155–56, 159, 170. See also Cherbourg, Saint-Lô; discipline of evacuees, obligatory evacuations (Cherbourg) mentally ill and air war. See psychiatric hospitals; psychiatric patients Meseritz-Obrawalde asylum. See psychiatric hospitals, Meseritz-Obrawalde asylum

Mesnard, René, 204–05n109 Ministère des Prisonniers, Deportés et Refugiés (Ministry of prisoners, deportees and refugees), 171, 173–74 Ministère du Travail et de la Solidarité Nationale (Ministry of Work and National Solidarity, France), 153. See also Déat, Marcel Ministry of Prisoners, Deportees and Refugees. See Ministère des Prisonniers, Deportés et Refugiés Ministry of Work and National Solidarity (France). See Ministère du Travail et de la Solidarité Nationale Mitteilungsblatt des Gaues Baden-Elsass der NSDAP für die Umquartierten (NSDAP Newsletter of Gau Baden-Alsace for the Evacuees), 79, 87, 107 Montebourg, 90 Nagel (retired Munich police colonel), 19 National Socialist People’s Welfare Organization. See NSV Nationalsozialistische Volkswohlfahrt. See NSV neighbours, as helpers to husbands of evacuees, 103 Netherlands. See evacuations outside of pre1939 German Reich Neuss (city), 137, 141 Niessel (French General), 24 Normandy, invasion of in 1944. See evacuations and Normandy landings, 1944 NSV prior to 1939, 40–41 Bahnhofsdienst (Train Station Service), 41, 53 activity in France in 1940, 32–33, 40–48 interaction with Secours National, 45–46, 51, 62, 68–71 and German evacuees, 8, 11, 25, 29, 33, 35–36, 52–55, 57, 141 and surveillance of evacuees, 54, 60, 74–75, 84–88, 129–30, 133, 145–46

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at war’s end, 160, 163–64 dissolution after war’s end, 174 NSV- Helfer, 42, 44 obligatory evacuations. See discipline of evacuees, obligatory evacuations “oppositional familism.” See de Grazia, Victoria Orne, 65, 155–59 Paluel-Marmont, Albert, 20–21 Pétain, Philippe Maréchal, 45, 68–70 Piła. See Schneidemühl pillage, 36, 38, 213n48. See also Holocaust and air war Pilon, Gustave, 70–71 plunder. See pillage; Holocaust and air war Poland. See evacuations outside of pre-1939 German Reich; evacuations at war’s end, Germany, East popular protest, 4–5, 8, 178–79 Bavarian crucifix campaign, 8, 105 France, 5, 96–97, 113, 127 Rosenstrasse protest, 8, 105–06 Witten demonstration, 5, 8, 11, 95–112, 123–24, 127, 178 See also discipline of evacuees, obligatory evacuations (Cherbourg) préfets régionaux, 154 premature returns from reception areas. See discipline of evacuees, “wild returnees” psychiatric hospitals and air war, 137–144, 179 Hadamar asylum, 139–40 Bon Sauveur asylum (Caen), 142, 144, 157 Meseritz-Obrawalde asylum, 141 Vinatier asylum (Lyon), 143–44 psychiatric patients and air war in France, 2, 6, 11, 128–29, 142–44 in Germany See “Euthanasia” program and air war See also psychiatric hospitals and air war railways. See Reichsbahn ration cards. See discipline of evacuees using ration cards

Räumungsfamilienunterhalt. See evacuees’ allowance, Germany; discipline of evacuees and evacuees’ allowance reception areas in France, 39, 64–66, 89–90, 119, 154 in Germany, 33–35, 53–54, 57–59, 88–89, 98–99, 160, 169 See also evacuations Reck-Malleczewen, Friedrich Percyval, 75, 85 Red Cross in France, 32, 40, 45–46, 153, 156 in Germany, 17, 46, 69, 174 redistribution of spoliated property to air raid victims. See Holocaust and air war Reeswinkel, Wilhelm, 104 Refugee Bureau, France. See Direction des Réfugiés refugees. See evacuations, terminology and euphemisms “refugiés indésirables.” See “asocials” and “indésirables” regional differences. See evacuations and regional differences Reich Air Defense League. See Reichsluftschutzbund Reichsbahn, 33–34, 53, 59, 100, 131–32, 136–37 and discipline of evacuees. See discipline of evacuees, Reichsbahn Reichsluftschutzbund, 18–20, 129 religion. See evacuations and religious differences requisitions (of housing) in France, 39, 66, 76, 118, 142, 144 in Germany, 52, 57, 59, 75 See also evacuees, accommodation of returns from reception areas. See discipline of evacuees, “wild returnees” Rosenstrasse protest. See popular protest, Rosenstrasse Rote Kreuz. See Red Cross, Germany Rouen as vulnerable city, 62, 156 evacuations from, 66, 87, 92, 113, 117, 121, 142

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Rückführungen. See evacuations, terminology and euphemisms Rügen, 61, 165 SA (Sturmabteilung), 34 Saar region. See Saarland Saarland, 25, 27–28, 33, 48 Saint-Lô, 155 Saunier (Direction des Réfugiés representative at Alençon), 157–59 Schneidemühl (Piła), 165 school closures, 100–01, 106. See also Centres scolaires de repliement; evacuations of children; Kinderlandverschickung school groups. See evacuations of children SD (Sicherheitsdienst) reports on 1939–40 border zone evacuations, 34–35 problems in evacuation, 75–76, 78, 80, 99 “wild returnees,” 92, 101 Witten demonstration, 98, 101–05, 108 Sebald, W.G., 177, 183n16 Secours National, 45–47, 136 assistance to French evacuees, 8, 62, 76, 77, 87, 89, 148, 153–56 in 1939–40, 32–33 and interaction with Germans and NSV, 45–47, 51, 67–71 in postwar, 159, 174 Secours Social. See Secours National, postwar Security Service. See SD Seine-Inférieure, 65, 122, 149. See also Dieppe, Le Havre, Rouen Seine-Maritime. See Seine-Inférieure Service Interministériel de Protection contre les Evènements de Guerre. See S.I.P.E.G. Sicherheitsdienst. See SD sinistrés. See bombed-out French S.I.P.E.G. (Service Interministériel de Protection contre les Evènements de Guerre), 91, 156 Sirene, Die, 18–19, 23. See also Reichsluftschutzbund

spoliation. See Holocaust and air war Spratte (liaison officer in Baden), 100–01, 105. See also liaison with evacuees, Germany Stoltzfus, Nathan, 8. See also popular protest, Rosenstrasse protest Storm Troopers. See SA Stralsund, 61, 165 Strasbourg, 34, 37, 84, 138, 142, 193n35 Straßburg. See Strasbourg Sturmabteilung. See SA Teschner, E. (German interwar air war theorist), 19 trains. See Reichsbahn Treck. See evacuations, war’s end Trek. See evacuations, war’s end Umquartierungen. See evacuations, terminology and euphemisms United States Strategic Bombing Survey (USSBS), 177–78 Usedom, 165 USSBS. See United States Strategic Bombing Survey Verbindungsmänner. See liaison with evacuees in Germany Vertrauensmänner. See liaison with evacuees in France Vinatier asylum (Lyon). See psychiatric hospitals, Vinatier asylum (Lyon) Von Bueltzingsloewen, Isabelle, 143–44 Von Schirach, Baldur, 52, 55, 80 war relief politicization of, 41–45, 90, 153 for French civilians in 1944, organized from Alençon, 142, 156–58 See also C.O.S.I.; evacuees and morale; NSV; Secours National war victims debates about Germans as, 7, 11, 150 perception of evacuees as in postwar 12, 150, 172–74 See also war relief, politicization of Westfalen-Nord, Gau, 58

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Westfalen-Süd, Gau, 58, 82, 87–88, 128, 145, 147. See also Hoffmann, Albert Westfälische Landeszeitung (WLZ), 75, 101, 103 “wild returnees.” See discipline of evacuees, “wild returnees” winter. See evacuees, accommodation of; evacuations at war’s end, Germany, East Witten. See popular protest, Witten demonstration

Witten demonstration. See popular protest, Witten demonstration WLZ. See Westfälische Landeszeitung Wohnrecht (“right to reside”). See evacuees and repatriation after war’s end Zentralverband der Fliegergeschädigten und Währungsgeschädigten (Central Association for Bomb-Damaged and Currency-Damaged Individuals), 170, 173