Two Women in Occupied Paris

To be a young woman in Paris is surely to be the epitome of freedom. Assured of ones own beauty and grace, to step lightly down Haussman’s wide boulevards and tread in the shadow of the imposing edifices of the Louvre, Notre Dame and the Madeleine without heavy cares to furrow the smooth and youthful brow. To contemplate with fresh and open eyes the green expanse of the parks and to feed a keen, sharp mind with all the possibilities of art, music, literature and education that nothing but a huge and bustling metropolis can offer. That city was made for such a marriage as this, a sweet conjunction of time and person, of futures not yet decided and presents to be eagerly grasped. Seeing that so clearly makes it difficult to comprehend a time when things were very different, yet not so long ago Paris was a city under occupation. During the Second World War the lights of the city and its youth alike were all but extinguished. Amongst it all, though, two young women managed to keep some kind of flame alive, one that burns still as their legacy.

They were hardly stereotypical Parisians to begin with. Noor Inayat Khan, firstborn child of a marriage between an Indian Sufi mystic and a headstrong American, brought up predominantly in the well-to-do suburb of Suresnes, had returned to the occupied city as an agent for the British. Driven by an urge to do what was right and avenge the brutal German advance into the country that she loved dearly, her determination and tenacity far outweighed her slight build and demure, quiet manners. She was a talented musician, especially gifted at the harp, a skill which would have no doubt been appreciated by Hélène Berr. A violinist and general lover of music, Hélène was a student of English Literature at the Sorbonne. Academically outstanding, she was also Jewish, which meant she was gradually being prevented from gaining proper credit for her university work. A member of a prominent and wealthy Parisian family, she had a vibrant social life with many friends. By degrees the occupation began to erode her happiness, turning her diary from a chronicle of a typical young person’s cares into the agonising lament of one who perpetually fears for her own life and those of the people dearest to her.

In her journal Hélène Berr confronts directly the spectre of unfulfilled potential that haunts her. She realises that, in her early twenties, she will be robbed of the brilliant future that she is almost embarrassed to admit that her gifts should offer her. She grudgingly agrees to wear her yellow star, marking herself out as Jewish. Determined to display as much dignity as possible under the circumstances, she continues about her daily life, but as all of her fellow Jews are rounded up she realises that soon the police will come for her too. Remaining strong for the rest of the family following the arrest of her father, she also throws herself into helping Jewish children. Her plump, smiling face can be seen surrounded by boisterous youngsters in photographs, but it was a face that was never to grow old. Curiously it never seems to betray this fact that its owner knew only too well. She saved the sadness and even moments of undisguised bitterness for the pages of her diary. By contrast Noor Inayat Khan seems to have had little concern for what might have been or for a future cruelly robbed. She seems to have lived very energetically in the moment, concerned with doing her duty as the last remaining British radio operator in occupied Paris. She was the sole link between the underground resistance and their allies across the channel and she went to great lengths to continue transmitting and receiving vital messages even though she was at constant risk of being caught.

Those who encountered Noor in occupied Paris seem to always talk of her being in a rush to get somewhere. Several accounts talk of her being seen cycling along the Champs Elysee, often with freshly dyed hair in an attempt to disguise her distinctive dark features. She tried to vary the location of her radio operations as much as possible in order to avoid detection, a practice that saw her criss-crossing the city by bike, metro and bus, on the move with her radio in a suitcase by her side. Hélène Berr, too, traverses Paris, visiting friends and relatives, taking Jewish children out for the day, going to work in the Sorbonne library or trying to source increasingly scarce items of food. She writes about taking the metro, a risky business when all those who wore the yellow star were relegated to the rear train carriages and subject to scrutiny wherever they went. She does not hide, though the streets are an increasingly dangerous place for her to be. Parisian streets under Nazi occupation were not as free as they had once been for anybody, Jewish or not. Curfews, persistent checks on identity documents, threats of round-ups and often random curtailment of public transport meant that people did not travel much outside their own neighbourhoods. People felt as if they were being watched, as if any excuse might be used to expose them to punishment by their occupiers, as if anyone might casually denounce them or inform on them, leading to their arrest. It was generally seen as safer to stay within a small compass. Yet this is precisely what Hélène and Noor did not do. In the midst of it all, however hopeless the situation, there was something vibrant and vigorous within them that could not be bound. Even just a small spark of their youth remained alive and bid them move. They managed to exercise a little bit of freedom and refused to be totally confined.

It is also true that both women managed to demonstrate that retaining some element of youth does not equate with succumbing to youthful selfishness. They were profoundly outward looking and made a contribution towards easing the plight of the occupied city. Having seemingly no thought for her own personal safety, Noor could not be persuaded to leave Paris. She saw that she had a vital role to play and succeeded in helping to arrange the evacuation of others and the transmission of key intelligence before she would consider taking measures to help herself. Even after she was caught she refused to reveal any information about the spy networks with which she was involved. She even fought physically with her captors, displaying a surprising amount of fierce energy directed against those she knew to be wrong. When faced even with those stronger and more physically imposing than she was, she was still determined to fight for what she believed in. Likewise, in the midst of fear and despair, Hélène looked to help others. She became involved with underground organisations who sought to save Jewish children by preventing their deportation to the concentration camps. She ferries her young charges to hospital appointments, takes them on picnics, walks them around the streets of Paris to show them the sights, mindful all the while that if they keep moving they are likely to evade arrest. She is a good friend to many. Though she is parted from some of those she loves best, the friends with whom she shared music, meals and laughter in happier times remain her friends in darker times. She discusses with them the fears of the occupied city, providing support and strength to them under bleak circumstances, and it is with them that she tragically makes her final journey, deported from the city that she loved and fought so hard not to leave.

Eventually the vital spark that was Hélène was extinguished. So too that of Noor. After managing to escape from Gestapo detention once, by daringly climbing out of a window on the Avenue Foch along with fellow prisoners and fleeing across the iconic Parisian rooftops, she could not avoid her demise forever. Her final journey away from her beloved Paris ended in Ravensbruck concentration camp, where she was shot. Her last word was said to be “Liberté”. She cried out for freedom after her own struggle to remain free in the occupied city and after her hard work to bring the French nation back to its own free existence. Even under the eyes and the strong hand of German control, both Noor and Hélène fought to reinvent their own liberties, finding new ways to keep going and carry on being human when circumstances could so easily have led them to give up. This is what makes their stories so remarkable and their deaths so particularly heartbreaking. They were truly outstanding young women and their stories should never be forgotten. Visiting the city of light today confronts you with such an onslaught of vitality, of living brightness, cacophony and freedom writ large at every turn. Once, though, freedom was more subversive. Living under a shadow required young people to shine more brightly. That is precisely what Noor and Hélène did. Their lives may have been short, but they were brilliant, vital and incredible.

Further Reading

“Journal” by Hélène Berr, translated by David Belos

“Madeleine” by Jean Overton Fuller

“Spy Princess: the life of Noor Inayat Khan” by Shribani Basu