March 26, 1944: Pyrenees Foothills: AVOID border Spanish-might sell us to Gestapo
The moment I hop in the back, the truck takes off. There are four or five other guys seated on the benches, and nobody says a word. mainly because they are too busy hanging on while the driver barrels down twisting backstreets, doing fifty or better. I hear the guy seated next to me mutter, “Jesus Christ.” I’m figureing I’m in with a bunch of bomer guys who will be crossing the Pyrenees together.
Soon the gears up front are constantly switching between second and first as we begin to travel up steep grades. It would be nice to be driven across the mountains into Spain. A flashlight is switched on by a guy seated at the end of one of the benches. He hunches down on the floor between the rest of us. He’s a Frenchman who speaks good English. “We’re just outside Lourdes,” he tells us, “heading into the foothills.” He ditributes hand-drawn maps to each of us., detailing our routes up and over. “You can either go together as a team, or pair off. It will probably take you four to five days to cross, depending on the weather. It’s been rather mild, so I don’t think you’ll encounter any blizzards. But it will be rough- I won’t deceive you about that. The most dangerous part will be just before you corss the Spanish frontier. It’s heavily patrolled by the Germans and there are all sorts crossing over-smugglers, refugees, military personnel like yourselves. Your best bet is to cross over at night, as late as possible. We’ve mapped out a southerly crossing- the father south, the better, because the Spaniards up north have a nasty habit of turning in American pilots to the Gestapo and collecting a few francs reward. If that should happen you can expect to be tortured to tell all that you know about us then taken out and shot. So, please be careful.”
I notice a pile of bulging knapsacks stashed against the wall of the cab. When we finaly stopped well past midnight, in the middle of nowehre, each of us grabs a knapsack and climbs out. “You’re at the starting point,” the guy tells us. “There’s a woodsman’s shed about a hundred yards directly ahead. You can use that. But no fires and no talking. This place is patrolled. Start out at first light. Today is March 25. With luck, you can expect to be in Spain by the 29th or 30th.”
He wishes us well and then takes off in the truck.
We spend the night shivering in the hut…..all with our own thoughts. I try to get some sleep – sounds like we’ve got some great challenges ahead….
c. GCYI
TODAY: I met the driver’s granddaughter-in-law recently. I’ve been to her grandfather’s house where we switched trucks. Beautiful area. As I was there at night the first time – I hadn’t noticed.