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As a
child, I didn't know much about my father,
Maurice Ramognino. My parents divorced a decade after
WWII ended and my father moved to the southern
tip of France while
my mother stayed in Paris. I only visited my father once
or twice a year as a teenager. Later, on one of my
visits as an adult, he finally told me about some of his
experiences during WWII. It was the only
time that he talked about those difficult times
and luckily I recorded the conversation. But it
wasn't until thirteen years after his death that I discovered some
official French and Swiss documents that gave some detailed information about his activities as a
refugee in Switzerland and a member of the
French Resistance during WWII. And I am now beginning to
understand how
all this affects my own life. Because my father's
experiences during the war have helped me define
who I am along with an appreciation for his role in the
liberation of France.
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The long overdue
release of classified documents from WWII has made it possible
for me to discover who my father really was, and I have became
fascinated with my father's activities during that period and this
has prompted a trip to France and several weeks of exploration following in the
WWII footsteps of my father. |
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This is the story of a French Resistance freedom fighter
who walked over 500k to Switzerland to escape the Gestapo. It is
the story of a young man in his early twenties who, by using his wits and
courage, managed to avoid being incarcerated as a refugee in Swiss work camps, or worse,
sent to those in
Nazi Germany. |
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My Father was
nineteen
years old when the Germans occupied France. He was a headstrong
French teenager and became quickly involved with the French
Resistance. However, as time passed it became more and more
dangerous for young Frenchmen around Paris. So Maurice and
several of his friends decided to cross the border into
Switzerland. Now that meant a 500k trip mostly by foot because
it was risky to take the train, and cars were out of the
question. The Gestapo was, as my father told me, hot on their
heels. |
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BORDER CROSSING |
Eventually they
arrived at the border of Switzerland. Much to their dismay they
found that the border was closely guarded. They had to cross
quickly or be discovered by the Milice (The Vichy Police who
were on the side of the Germans). So they drew lots to see who
would be the one to overpower the border guard. But none of them
wanted to harm the guard because they didn't know if he was
Swiss or German. My father cried when he told me that he
volunteered to do it. He was even more sorrowful when he told me
that he knew the guard was Swiss because of the buttons on his
jacket. |
CHATEAU |
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Part of this story
is about my father's father, my grandfather, who was likewise
involved in the French resistance. He was a French Passeur who
helped guide Allied airmen over the Pyrenees mountains to escape
from occupied France into Spain.
Some years ago, my husband and
I joined AFEES, the WWII Airforces Escape & Evasion
Society, to see if we could
find more information about the clandestine activities of Gilbert Ramognino,
my grandfather, and his
experiences during WWII, including his taking eight allied fliers over the
Pyrenees into Spain
during the Nazi occupation of France.
I attended one of the AFEES annual reunions and made several contacts with veterans who had been
smuggled out of France during the war. Through them I discovered
the original escape and evasion report made by my
grandfather. Wow! Reading the report sent chills up and down my
spine as I reviewed Gilbert's personal account of the
harrowing events during their escape over the rugged
mountains of the Pyrenees and how he hid the airmen in the snow,
and kept curious French towns people from talking to
them while they were at the train station with the Gestapo
and police everywhere. I was transported back in time,
and was filled with respect and awe for those brave French men
and women who risked their lives to help the Allies during the
war. |
Gilbert Ramognino |
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My husband and I
have attended several D-day commemorations, and on one occasion drove from
beach to beach surrounded as it were by dozens of restored WWII
army vehicles -- mostly jeeps. It felt like a throw-back in time
as we followed jeeps being driven by men and women in WWII
uniforms with U.S. insignia patches and flags. Bands in several
locations played swing music from the 40's, and on one occasion
we stood on a high out-cropping overlooking Arromanches and
listened to the faint echoes of swing music with vocals in
French. For some hardly explainable reason this was a comforting
experience reflecting on a time when the world was clear in its
directions. Yes, there was the horror of war and death, but
people clearly knew what they were doing, and the unity of
allies and the French underground was inspiring. I've mentioned
my father's involvement with the French Resistance, and my grandfather
helping allied airmen to freedom
over the Pyrenees to Spain. Perhaps that is one of the reasons
I connect to this era in such a positive way.
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