Read The Vatican Pimpernel Online
Authors: Brian Fleming
The Vatican Pimpernel (12 page)
The experiences of Pollak and those who came to Rome with him were fairly typical. They had gathered in the area around the prisoner-of-war camp at Sulmona, having escaped either from the camp itself or when they were being moved northwards to Germany. They were looked after by the local people there until the regularity of raids by the German authorities forced them to think of other options. Like many another group, they found Rome and the anonymity of the big city very attractive at that stage. The reality was that although he was only a Private, Joe Pollak was, in a sense, the recognised leader. Pollak's skill with languages as a fluent speaker of German, Hebrew, Greek, English and Italian was obviously of great assistance. When they were based in Sulmona, two of their supporters were Iride and Maria Imperoli. Eventually Iride went into Rome seeking help and called to St Peter's. Her objective was to make contact with a member of the British Legation staff. She had with her a letter from some of the officers seeking assistance, advice and money. A similar letter was written by the American officers in the group, Dukate and Wilson, to people in their embassy. After five days, Iride returned with a sum of 3,000 lire and the advice that Rome was not the place to which they should go. This money was distributed among those who were catering for the escapees in the general locality. A similar trip some time later yielded a contribution of 15,000 lire from the diplomats in Rome but again, the advice was not to attempt to reach the city. However, the level of the raids around Sulmona became so regular, and there were so many near misses, that the group decided they had no option but to move out. So Iride and Maria took the group, including the Americans Elbert Dukate and Glenn Wilson, the Britons Denis Rendell, Gilbert Smyth, Furman and Simpson, and a Free French officer Henri Payonne, together with Joe Pollak, on the train to Rome. They alighted three stations outside Rome because they felt it was safer to make the rest of the journey on foot. Pollak's skill with the language and the presence of Iride and Maria helped to get them through checkpoints. Their story was that they were a family who had been bombed out of their home in Sulmona and were now making their way to their only surviving relative in Rome. When they reached the city, Iride and her sister brought them to a small hotel, the Vulcania, on the Via Cavour. The travellers were delighted with the standard of the accommodation and the availability of hot baths met with a very positive response. The receptionist showed them to their rooms.
Upstairs, she ushered us into a spacious room. We gaped. To us it appeared elegant, the washhand basin with shining chrome taps, and a large double bed covered by a silk spread. As Iride left with the receptionist to check more rooms, each dusty face registered joyful disbelief. After prison camps and unsanitary slums, the contrast was strong. Gil ran the water âMy god, hot!', he exclaimed.
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It was only when they looked for food and discovered that the hotel did not provide any that they realised they were actually being accommodated in a brothel. The next morning Joe Pollak took off for St Peter's Square. After looking around for some time, he began to approach clergy for help.
I struck it lucky with the second one. I told him about us, that I had to make contact inside. He took me across the Piazza to a side entrance, into the Holy Office building. It's âextra-territorial' whatever that means. He went off and came back with a big tall priest called Monsignor O'Flaherty. I understand he is the important fellow in the background. He is mixed up with a whole crowd of escapers around here. He has got a British Major working with him. His name is Derry.
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The next day, O'Flaherty's organisation sprang into action. Dukate, Wilson and Smyth were moved into the American College, having been taken there by car by the French diplomat, de Vial, and the rest were placed with supporters around the city. However, Furman, Pollak and Simpson quickly began to seek a more active role. As Simpson remembers it, 10 December was dark and wet when the three of them stepped off the Number 34 trolley bus. Pollak led them to a meeting with Monsignor O'Flaherty and two other countrymen of theirs, Captain Gardner, who had been a prisoner of war with them in Chieti, and Lieutenant Colonel Wilson. Furman recalls that first meeting with the Monsignor:
He stood about Sam's height with a fine physique not much inferior to Sam's own. His face normally wore a benign, absent-minded, professorial expression, an effect which his spectacles heightened, but the mood could change very quickly and I was frequently to see the kindly twinkle in his eyes displaced by flaming passion whenever he heard of some particularly bestial cruelty perpetrated no matter by whom or against whom.
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Furman, Pollak and Simpson were recruited to play leading parts in the organisation from then on. Iride and Maria returned to Sulmona with fresh supplies of money for the prisoners still in hiding there. De Vial of the French Embassy managed to find temporary accommodation for the three in a flat in Rome. The following day the Monsignor and Derry sat down with their new recruits to decide on the responsibilities each would have in the restructured organisation. Essentially O'Flaherty and his army of priests, student priests and other supporters continued to do most of the work of finding new locations in which to house escapees. Furman, Simpson and Pollak took over the more dangerous work of guiding escapees to these locations, issuing money and delivering food supplies and clothes.
It is not clear whether O'Flaherty was aware that his organisation was using a brothel as a place in which to hide escaped prisoners. It might have proved very interesting to see what his reaction would have been. In a somewhat analogous situation Derry found himself in an awkward conversation with the Monsignor one day. O'Flaherty expressed admiration for the work of one of the female members of the organisation:
I wonder just how she does it, nobody else could hoodwink the Germans as she does. She comes and goes half the time on German lorries and I can't imagine she has deluded the drivers all this time.
Somewhat embarrassed, Derry said,
Well, Monsignor she is a very attractive girl you know, even if a bit er ⦠garish, and as a matter of fact she gets on very well with the German drivers. She, ahem ⦠well she provides them with much-appreciated services that only a woman can give!
O'Flaherty shot a keen glance at the slightly pink Derry and paused while the soldier wondered just how the priest would take this revelation about one of his helpers. O'Flaherty said merely, âWhat a pity', and changed the subject.
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One of the less pleasant duties that Derry had to perform was to try to ensure appropriate levels of discipline. As the senior Allied officer in Rome he had to issue quite strong letters of admonition from time to time. So for example, a trooper named Thorpe was issued with the following:
I have received a full report on your atrocious behaviour during the last week. I made a full report which has been sent to the proper authorities. You are to get out of Rome immediately. Immediately after liberation of Rome by the Allies you will have to answer the charges which are already serious.
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Christmas 1943
Simpson, Furman and Pollak made their first call to Mrs Chevalier on 11 December 1943 as her flat was the depot for food supplies. It was a fairly typical day in the apartment of the Maltese woman.
âI expected you', Mrs Chevalier smiled as we introduced ourselves. Two young girls who had been screaming at each other, fell silent. âMy daughters, Gemma and Mary' ⦠two other girls appeared and inspected us. Matilda, younger than Gemma, was slim, serious and shy. The other, about twelve, was an imp ⦠âCome and meet Grandma, the seventh female in the house.' We followed Mrs M into a large kitchen, where a bright fire burned in a wide grate. A basket of vegetables and fruit stood on the floor, and large chunks of red meat lay on the table. In the corner by the window an old woman sat in a low chair peeling potatoes. Mrs M's mother, as she looked up, smiled faintly and resumed peeling. âSome family', I said, confused. âOh that is not all.' She led us to another door in the corridor and pushed it open. Four men lay in one huge bed, their faces turned to us. âGood morning', said the four in unison, as Mrs M introduced us to her four private escapers, they climbed out of bed fully dressed. âThey hop into bed every time someone comes to the door, she explained.'
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She went on to outline that a friend, Giovanni, provided the meat and got his friends to buy sugar and other scarce items on the black market. A baker down the street supplied the bread to her without coupons and she used the money provided by Monsignor O'Flaherty to buy potatoes, fruit and vegetables. She explained to them that the biggest problem was delivery.
Carrying large cases attracted attention, and the local police were alert for black marketeers. The system was hit or miss, Fr Borg and Brother Robert had taken them today. Monsignor O'Flaherty sent different people. Sometimes, when nobody arrived, two of the older girls had to step in, but it was too onerous and too risky for them.
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Simpson, Pollak and Furman took over deliveries the next day but they quickly found with the amount they were expected to deliver, some of it over quite a distance within the city, that the arrangements which had applied until then were impractical. From then on they secured money from Sam Derry to hire the services of a local man who had a horse-drawn carriage. This proved a more efficient way to move provisions around the city. Derry stayed in the German College. The three others had been supplied with false identity documents which were good enough to allow them to move around Rome in reasonable comfort. Each of them was described as an Italian national and all three had enough mastery of the language to get by. They moved from their temporary accommodation shortly after that to take up residence with Renzo and Adrienne Lucidi on the Via Scialoia.
Very early on in his work for the organisation, it struck Furman as curious that more of the escaped prisoners of war had not been hidden in the Vatican itself. Sam Derry explained:
âThere are two reasons really. I will give you the one of lesser importance first. I agree it wouldn't be difficult for us to get the chaps inside, because we know how it can be done. But we only know because the Monsignor has shown us. I wouldn't be playing the game to make use of that knowledge as the Monsignor would get it in the neck from the Vatican authorities. There is a hell of an enquiry each time a prisoner gets in and you can bet that sooner or later it would be traced back to him. He is already highly suspect and we have good reason to believe he stands pretty high on the Gestapo black-list. In fact he has been warned he mustn't leave the Vatican, but he pays pretty scant attention to the warning. The second reason is this. So far, the Germans haven't worried over-much about the Vatican. They have respected its neutrality quite reasonably. If we start filling it up with escapers there is obviously going to be a reaction.'
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Major Hugh Fane-Hervey was a Tank Commander in the North African Campaign. In June 1942, near Tobruk, his tank was hit and caught fire. His gunner was wounded and trapped in the burning tank but Fane-Hervey freed him and threw him clear. According to one witness, German soldiers who saw the incident applauded openly. Fane-Hervey was captured but subsequently escaped. He was eventually transferred to a prisoner-of-war camp at Frosinone in southern Italy. There he met Flight Lieutenant Garrad-Cole who was also captured near Tobruk. Some time later the authorities decided to transfer 25 British prisoners of war to Germany, including these two, and so they were put on a train. By this stage Fane-Hervey had managed to steal an axe which he concealed in his baggy pants and brought with him. The train stopped in Rome and remained there, stationary, for a day during which time Fane-Hervey and Garrad-Cole began to work their way through the side of the carriage which was made of timber. The following evening, when the train began to move, they continued the work and some time later clambered through onto the buffers from where they made the jump, âa terrifying moment of hurtling through space'.
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With the help of a local shepherd and then some villagers nearby they managed to purchase train tickets to Rome. Garrad-Cole's recollection of this event illustrates clearly the workload of the organisation. It was not just a question of locating a suitable billet and ensuring food was delivered:
I dreamed of sipping Chianti alongside unsuspecting storm troopers in a Roman café: of espionage: of beautiful Italian women. Little did I know â¦
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In Rome, like so many more before them, they made for St Peter's:
We looked towards the entrance to the Vatican where the Swiss Guards in their picturesque uniforms stood stolidly on watch. We looked towards the entrance to the cathedral and saw many people entering and leaving. After a quick decision we decided to approach the first benevolent-looking priest we saw. Picking one out, we walked up to him and Fane in his best Italian, said âWe are British prisoners of war'. Just like that. The priest stopped in his tracks. His jaw dropped in amazement. He looked quickly around, but for a moment did not reply. Then gathering his wits he muttered âI cannot help you ⦠but wait here for half an hour ⦠I will bring somebody who speaks English.'
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Eventually he came back with Secundo Constantini who was a member of the O'Flaherty organisation. He escorted them to the disused British Embassy where he and his family were living on the first floor and they stayed there for about ten days.
One day ⦠we were exploring the Embassy when we came upon the Ambassador's wine cellar. It had an enormous wood and iron door which was securely padlocked and bore a Swiss Government seal. Obviously the Swiss had taken over the stocks when the Ambassador had been forced to leave and they had sealed the cellar for the duration of the war. Through a barred grille near the top of the door we could see row upon row of many different kinds of wines and liqueurs. Nearest to us, only about six feet away from the grille, was a long line of champagne bottles lying on their sides. The temptation was great, in fact too great. We foraged around until we found a good stout curtain rod and to the end of this we fixed a piece of strong cord which we tied into a slip knot. Carefully we thrust the rod through the grille until the slip knot settled over the neck of the nearest champagne bottle. Gently we removed the rod away until the slip knot was tight. Then gradually we eased the bottle off the shelf. As it dropped over the edge it nearly fell to the ground under its own weight before we were able to arrest its fall and haul it through the grille. Several other bottles followed and that night we had quite a celebration with the Secundo family who, although worried about the consequences, thoroughly appreciated the excellent wines. I have often smiled since at the thought of the head-scratching that must have gone on when the cellar was unsealed after the war, and the stock was checked.
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