October 11, 1939

In commencing this story—“my” story of the war, I plan that it be a diary of personal experiences, reflections and impressions. It should have had its beginning on Sunday Sept. 3, the day that the war was declared, first by England, then a few hours later, by France.² But I was not in the mood to write then—it was even difficult to write meager post cards home. Now I have adjusted myself to this new strange state of living, diving in a kind of suspension, just waiting and hoping, while time itself seems to have...

Monday, June 24, 1940

France has to hand over all her army matériel and resources to Germany, plus the greater part of her metropolitan land area; all to be employed against her ally. She has now no independent government, and will be allowed only a small armed force in the unoccupied region south of a line drawn from Geneva to Tours. All the west coast is to remain under German control. Our army is to be demobilized at once except those who were taken prisoner. These will not be released until peace is signed. Hitler does not mention peace terms...

September 1940

We have remained at Nesles all month. These are peaceful days after the excitement of last month.

Bought 100 Lbs. flour—800 Lbs. potatoes.

In order to try and find something to eat, I am obliged to go to biweekly market in l’Isle-Adam; City badly damaged, several Germans buried at side of road. No more bridge across the Oise River! Have to cross on a small boat with a bicycle and all.

No more gasoline at all for the public. Only Public services on the road with their large “S.P.S.” on windshield.¹ Our blue baby [Fiat] is under...

The hideout in the garden of our country cottage was practically finished.¹ All day long we had worked without stopping. A stranger would never have guessed that at a stone’s throw from the house was a refuge large enough for two people. We had dragged a piano box to a hollow among the trees. We had camouflaged it with rocks and moss and a thin sprinkling of pine needles so that it looked like any of the other hillocks which surrounded it. Life was dangerous during these days of German occupation. Every day hundreds of arrests were made, hostages were...

It was mid-afternoon when we came into Paris, along the Avenue du Maine, down the Boulevard du Montparnasse, up the Boulevard des Invalides and across the Pont Alexandre. This was my “quartier.” The sight of those familiar streets made my heart beat faster and I felt almost certain that I would see one of my friends or neighbors but was disappointed. None of the Germans were familiar with Paris so I was obliged to direct them to the well-known Gestapo Headquarters, rue des Saussaies.¹ It was like directing my own funeral! We got down at the arcade entrance, crossed the...

The fifteenth of August dawned into a brilliant, hot day. It was the Assumption, and permission had been given for a mass to be held at 10:00 in the courtyard by a priest from outside the fort. But about 8:00, there was another official announcement: immediate evacuation of the camp! We were ordered to pack at once and prepare to gather in the courtyard! Would the departure actually take place this time, or would there be another counter-order? The cannons seemed closer than ever. We were nearly crazy with despair! At the signal of the gong we dragged our heavy...

The next day, the seventh,¹ saw us in Berlin. We only skirted the city and so couldn’t see much of the bomb damage. About forty kilometers north of the city we pulled into a station called Fürstenberg. It was nearly midday and a pitiless sun was beating down. A rumor was passing around: “This was our destination, the camp of Ravensbrück!” As our doors were pushed back, we saw extra guards, new ones, very severe-looking, with the famous SS on their collars. Our old guards suddenly adopted the same swift brutal gestures, the same loud, raucous voices as the new...

In the early morning of the 16th of October, we left Ravensbrück once again. We waited for hours previous to our departure, standing in line, first for galoshes, then for a shower bath and the change of clothes. The galoshes were heavy, shapeless and wooden-soles, and never fitted to the foot, they rubbed and made blisters. Usually blisters developed into vitamin sores, ugly sores that never healed. Although my shoes, the same pair I was wearing at the time of my arrest, were in bad shape, with the soles worn through the heels worn off, still they fitted my feet,...

My musing was violently interrupted by a great clamor in the courtyard. Men were shouting and women were screaming. Shots were being fired. Was it the Russians? Had they come at last? I must hurry! Why did I have to be undressed just at a moment like this? My hopes soared as the deafening sounds reached my ears. At the same moment, one of our girls ran in, but looking as though she had seen ghosts. “It’s theGermans!” she cried. “The SS from Ravensbrück. They’ve come togetus! They’ve ordered us to line up outside!” The joy that...

The twenty-eighth of February dawned just like any other of the cold damp ones that had preceded it. I was taken aback when one of our neighbors, a Pole with whom we had been friendly suddenly remarked, “Virginia, I have the feeling that something extraordinary is going to happen to you today.”

She hesitated, and then added, “Something good.”

I smiled and answered but without conviction: “I hope you’re right.”

Half an hour later, the “bloc” captain came in. “Madame d’Albert is wanted at once,” she cried out.

Everyone turned to stare at me. I felt panicky. My heart began...