Texts by Inge Joseph, Edith Goldapper and Victoria Cordier
Inge Joseph (Escape on October 10 or 17, 1943)
Bleier, Inge Joseph; Gumpert, David E. (Bearb.): Inge: a girl's journey through Nazi Europe. Grand Rapids, Mich. [u.a.]: Eerdmans, 2004
In Inge's book, it says on p. 247f:
That meant I should leave the house at 11:30 A.M., Madeleine and her mother agreed. Yes, I had an appointment in Switzerland, and I didn't want to be late. [...]
The way was simple. I was to walk about seventy-five meters straight across a meadow behind the house and then up a steep hill, about one hundred meters high. Madeleine had warned me about the hill - I was to take it easy on the climb up because it was covered with fall leaves, which could make noise. On top of the hill was a road. It belonged to France. The forest on the other side of the road was Switzerland. There was no barbed wire on either side of the border. But the border road was well patrolled by the Germans. Once in the Swiss forest, I should look for a dilapidated, wooden structure, an abandoned barn, with the unlikely name, "Hotel Italy." There I was to meet the forester.
I strolled through the meadow and reached the bottom of the tree-covered hill. It was peacefully quiet too quiet. I took a few steps up the hill and stopped, horrified. Each time I stepped, the autumn leaves crunched and rustled-in my anxious state the sound seemed as if it were being broadcast far and wide. I darted from tree to tree to stay hidden. Half way up the hill, I was relieved to find the trees and leaves gave way to rocky terrain. My relief was short-lived. Each step now sent stones rolling down the incline. I had no choice but to wait until they reached the meadow be-
low me and the noise died down. Though it was cool, I was sweating and out of breath.
I carefully scanned above and below me to make sure I was not being observed. My heart was pounding in my throat. Never before had I been so terrified, not even after jumping out the bathroom window. What if a soldier on the road above me had heard the noise and was waiting in hid-ing for me to reach the top? I had no way to know what was happening on that road above the hill was too steep for me to see anything.
I was just a few meters from the road. This was the point of no return. Either I made it this time, or I fell into the hands of the Germans and was taken away. It was as if I had spent hours on the hill. I glanced at my watch ten minutes past noon. I was already ten minutes late for my meeting with the forester. How long would he wait?
I needed to do it and do it quickly. I was only a few steps from the top. I made up my mind. No matter what awaited me on the road, I was going to dart across it into the Swiss forest. If I ran fast enough and hid behind a tree, perhaps not even a German's gun could reach me.
Taking one deep breath, I dashed-GO! - across the two-lane paved road and about fifty feet into the adjoining Swiss forest. It was very quiet for a moment. Then I heard a deep man's voice: "Inge? Inge Joseph?"
Within a few seconds, a tall man in a green uniform approached me.
"Welcome to Switzerland."
He laughed. "I watched you run up the hillside and cross the road. Never have I seen someone run so fast."
I laughed, too, for otherwise I might have cried.
I should have been ecstatic but I was numb. Besides, Walter should have been with me. We should have been celebrating together, looking forward, at long last, toward our future, toward washing machines.
Victoria Cordier: Ce que je n'oublierai jamais. Pontarlier 2011
Victoria’s book p. 80f:
While they were hiding behind a herd of cows, a German soldier suddenly appeared around the bend in the road and watched them with binoculars. They sat down in the grass like two shepherdesses. Some time passed. He was still watching them. Then he calmed down and moved on.
I was in Switzerland when Irène [=Inge!] arrived with Anne-Marie's father. The castle director [of La Hille, that is Margrit Tännler; RW.], who had traveled to Lyon with Irène (she was officially on her way back), had let Irène come to Champagnole alone. She waited in the Vallée, full of fear. It was a celebration.
This director was particularly fond of Irène and insisted on giving me (for me and my sisters) 100 Swiss francs out of her own pocket. It was the only time we ever received a gift! Because whatever some people may have thought, we were not paid for a single visit.
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Edith Goldapper (Escape on December 12, 1943)
Diary of the Holocaust 1943-1944
Edith’s book p. 77ff (The spelling of E.G. was adopted without correction.; RW)
V. has just arrived. We are ready to go to Ch. d. B. immediately. I can think of nothing else but “forward.” We hurry across the snow-covered field. We have to be extremely careful not to run into any gendarmes. Finally, we reach the house. We enter the living room through the stable. M.-A., the eldest sister, is already waiting for us. We are given buttered bread and cocoa, and so we warm ourselves up. Now there is a discussion about whether M.-A. should take me over tomorrow or whether I should leave immediately with Mr. A. and V. It is terribly dangerous, after all. So it is decided that I will go with them, and since I probably wouldn't get very far in my shoes, I am given a pair of sturdy mountain boots, size 42, which are too big for me. But since Addi wore them and they got him safely to the other side, they must bring me luck too.
We get ready. Despite my reluctance, V. takes my heavy backpack. I get a very light one to carry. M.-A. looks out once more to see if the coast is clear, and shortly afterwards we set off. It is December 12, 1943, 10 p.m. The moon is shining brightly; you would think it was daytime. I have the pictures of my parents in each coat pocket and feel that Multi and Papi will definitely not leave me in the next few hours. I am definitely not cold: in addition to my winter coat, I am also wearing my ski suit and a sweater underneath. Now we have to be careful. We mustn't leave any tracks in the snow, because then it would be immediately obvious that we come from the V. house. That's why we climb a good part of the mountain over large, sharp rocks, because that way our tracks are imperceptibly lost. It's still going quite well, the snow isn't too deep. But now I see that the Jura is quite steep. First goes V., then A., and finally me. Now it's starting to get more difficult. The snow is very deep and I sink up to my knees in it. It's very unpleasant. Every time I take a step forward, I sink. It's terrible and at the same time very exhausting. Mr. A. is now always clearing the way for me by making “steps.” I am very exhausted and often lose heart.
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Victoria Cordier: Ce que je n'oublierai jamais. Pontarlier 2011
Victoria’s book p.89ff:
On the way back from Paris, I found a message from my sister in Champagnole. The snow was frozen, very hard. We could move.
It was decided that Edith would go with Roger and me. When I informed him, he said to me, “I'm coming from Lyon, I'm in a great hurry, there's no way I'm going with a Jew, today is definitely not the right day!”
Then I said to him, “You have no choice... Either you come with us or you go alone.” He gave in, seeing that he had no other choice.
I had asked my uncle to pick us up with the sled in Morbier. When I arrived at his place, it was still light out. I made a quick stop. The snow was frozen in the fields. Everything was going well. Night had fallen. A hint of moonlight was clearly visible... We had to hurry to reach Sous-le-Risoux.
A short stop. A nice cup of cocoa with bread and cheese. And then back to the adventure. The climb up Risoux was no walk in the park. The hill was like an ice rink. I carried Edith's bag, but she couldn't climb. She was wearing very bad shoes, men's shoes, size 40! She backed away, unable to hold on to the branches. She whined. I pulled, Roger pushed. It was really the limit.
It took us an eternity to reach the summit. When it came to crossing the Gy, which was made entirely of ice, Edith refused.
She was shivering, couldn't stand on her feet, was crying, and wanted to go back down. I had to get angry. Returning was out of the question. The Germans had arrived in the afternoon, interrogated my sister, and were searching for the slightest suspicious clue.
That was enough to put Roger in a bad mood. I felt my way forward (because extreme caution was required) and was the first to cross the icy rocks with the bag. The descent proved difficult. Roger was wearing his famous leather jacket with the long belt. He climbed up, clung tightly to a fir tree, let go of one end of the belt, and said to Edith, “Hold on to my belt.” But Edith was still in a bad mood.
There was no choice. I loaded her onto my back and begged her to hold on to my neck. With one hand, I clutched the end of the belt wrapped around my fingers, and with the other, I held Edith's legs. After incredible effort, without losing courage or balance, Edith pressed herself against my body, Roger pulled with all his strength, and I managed the ascent, defying the void and the blocks of ice. Once again, we had conquered the Gy de l'Echelle.
Roger buckled up again and ran off. At the top, Edith and I held hands and ran after him; he seemed to be running away.
A little further down, we saw the tracks of a sled that had gone up to the place where the ropes were to load wood. This path, which led directly into the valley at night, was very valuable to us.
We continued on without saying a word. It was as if we wanted to avoid making any noise. When we arrived in La Givrine, Roger asked Edith to fetch her bag. She followed us in case we were stopped. He had said to her, "In case of danger, hide in the fir trees and wait. We will ask the customs officer to come down with us, and you follow us at a distance. When he comes up, let him pass. We'll wait for you a little further down."
There was no danger. I often thought that if we had been arrested, Edith would have freaked out and claimed we were together. What would have happened? We were allowed to cross the border, but under no circumstances were we allowed to let Jews through. But why would we be arrested in the first place?
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