Paris in the Spring

Parisians in the spring of 1943 know hunger, humiliation, the fear of air raids. Life in all of France is hard and ugly. But the French, and particularly the French of Paris, still have their old genius for softening the hardness and hiding the ugliness.

Sentiment for Americans. A German broadcaster last week turned French spirit to the uses of Axis propaganda. In an English-language broadcast beamed to the U.S., he burbled about "the charm and chic of the Parisienne compared to the women of other cities that you may know of." He enlarged upon the sidewalk cafes ("almost everyone knows a dozen . . . where one can eat well, often at surprisingly reasonable prices") and the Ritz and Claridge's ("favorite places just now . . . for the fashionable world"). And the races at Auteuil--75,000 people were there for "the 'Grand Steeple-Chase du Printemps,'* with a purse of 600,000 francs. ... It turned out to be a perfect day. . . . Fine enough for the Parisienne to wear her best hat."

The propaganda was very obvious: Dr. Goebbels, hoped to move sentimental Americans to protest against the continued Allied air attack on railways, power stations, airdromes, war plants in Occupied France. Following his evocation of the boulevards and the fashions, the broadcaster said: "One cannot forget the war in Paris. Night & day one must be on the alert for the dreadful air-raid alarms, and be prepared to go to the cellar if he cares for his life." Axis news pictures have played up the same theme. One, probably genuine, showed Parisians in panic at the Longchamps races, during a raid on the nearby Renault aircraft plant (see cut).

Silk for the Darlings. An American girl who recently escaped from Occupied France to London gave a more authentic account of life under the Germans. She said that women can still buy chic dresses for 5,000 francs and up without ration coupons. Woolen suits, silk nighties and stockings bring fancy black-market prices. But only the darlings of Nazis, grafters, collaborationists can afford such luxuries. The others wear plain, frequently remade suits and dresses, set off by towering upswept hairdos and elaborate hats. Tulle is one of the few unrationed materials and it is used plentifully for hats.

Cabbage for Frenchmen. The only unrationed foods in France are rutabagas, topinambous (Jerusalem artichokes) and cabbage. Rationing applies to restaurants as well as stores. The combined butter, fat and oil ration is about three and a half ounces a week a person (compared to eight ounces in Britain). For five precious coupons, a Frenchman supping at a restaurant is lucky to get watery soup, a dab of meat, an inch-square wafer of cheese. The French wine allowance is six liters (about six quarts) monthly a person.

City dwellers supplement their rations as they can: cats have almost entirely disappeared; Bordeaux has lost most of its famous pigeons and severe penalties have been decreed for pigeon-snatching. Peasants have more to eat, often allow crops to rot in the fields rather than deliver them for shipment to Germany.

Inflation for the Boche. Trading in the black market is an act of patriotism: when Frenchmen trade with each other, les boches get nothing. Well-off townspeople buy direct from farmers at astronomical prices: 2,000 francs for a ham; 800 francs for a goose; 500 francs for a chicken; 300 francs for a rabbit (with hind feet left on to prove that it is not a cat).

The French take their money from bank accounts and mattresses, spend it for real estate, radio sets, furniture, jewelry, rare stamps, anything likely to have continuing value. While trying to protect themselves against inflation, they also encourage it by offering huge sums of francs for black-market dollars and British pounds. One pleasing effect is to reduce the value of the 300,000,000 francs a day paid as occupation costs to Germany.

Infant mortality soars, rickets and pellagra affect the living children. Lack of soap has caused an epidemic of human mange, the first since the Napoleonic wars.

Every night millions of Frenchmen listen to Allied broadcasts, usually prefer Boston's short-wave station WRUL to BBC. Now they live in the hope that liberation is actually near.

*This was the first news of any such race. Before the occupation, the Grand Steeple-Chase de Paris was invariably held in June.

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