On 17th September 1943, around 9 pm, an unknown woman rang our doorbell and introduced herself. She spoke in French. We lived in Nîmes, where my father ran a fabric store. There were nine of us: my grandfather, Abraham Angel (my mother's father), my parents, Albert and Victorine Calef, and their six children: Estelle, Yvette, Andrée, Suzette, Roger, and myself, Simone.
Speaking about my sister Suzette, this woman said to us: "That young woman won't be sleeping in her bed tonight. I know you're about to be arrested this evening." In 1942, all foreign Jews had been deported, so we were well aware of the danger. Three of my sisters already slept at our neighbour's home below, and my brother Roger was staying in a room in a villa for health reasons (he had contracted tuberculosis).
We left immediately. On the way, we rang at the door of the Ben Attar family (since this stranger had told us that the Ben Attars were also on the list). They were rather more optimistic in nature, and unfortunately, they didn't leave in time. We learned later that the Gestapo showed up a quarter of an hour after our departure and found our apartment empty. But the Ben Attars were still at home.
Distraught and not knowing where to go, we went to get our brother Roger and then rang at a random door. A woman called Ms Ecuyer answered it. She said to us: "I understand who you are. I'm leaving, but you can stay in my house." She knew that we were Jewish and did not hesitate to leave us her home in the Valdegour neighbourhood of Nîmes. She was the FIRST LINK in a chain that saved our lives.
We spent the night at her house, but the next morning, the same woman who had somehow found us the day before showed up again. She offered to get us fake ID cards if we gave her photographs of ourselves. We accepted. Then she asked us for a large sum of money. Fearing a trap, we hesitated. She noted our reluctance, and told us that our father had been arrested. This convinced us that she was a dubious character, because our father was there with us, in the next room. She added, "In any case, now I have your pictures you can't go anywhere..." (implying that we had no choice).
Although she was looking to gain something by her actions, I consider this unknown woman to be a SECOND LINK It is "thanks" to her that we left our apartment in Nîmes. It was also because of her suspicious behaviour that we decided to leave the house in Valdegour.
Departure
We wanted to leave but found the house surrounded by French police officers. Our stranger had indeed set a trap. My sister Suzette exclaimed: "This time, we're done for!" Luckily, we managed to scale an adjoining wall in the garden, and we landed in next door's garden, whose less than affable occupants at first refused to let us through. They finally agreed to open their gate and we found ourselves on a road with no police officers. I later learned that the owner of this house managed Jewish-owned stores. And yet, I moved him to pity by saying, "You surely cannot let eight people be arrested." This was the THIRD LINK.
At this stage, we decided to split off. We left our parents on the road. My brother Roger, my sister Andrée and I took a tram to see a doctor we knew, who got us into a clinic run by nuns. FOURTH LINKMy other sister, Suzette, walked to Lunel (in the Gard region), to find a store employee who would likely be willing to hide her. On the way there, she was raped by French police officers. She arrived at her destination terrified and sobbing.
Our story is the proof that every little gesture count, that it constitutes a LINK in a solidand efficient chain: solidarity.
After three weeks, we had to leave the clinic, since they no longer wanted to keep us there. We had occupied two rooms, but I don't know whether we were paying for them. Roger then called one of his sanatorium friends in Perpignan, who told him to come hide in his house. "I understand, I understand, come quickly."
From the clinic, my sister Andrée and I took the road back towards Valdegour. On the way, were were taken in by farmers. My parents were there too. I don't know how it happened, it's all such a long time ago, but that was a FIFTH LINK.
After one night, we all made our way to Lunel to meet up with Suzette. The brother of the store employee with whom we stayed was a member of the Resistance. He was the one who managed to get us false ID cards. SIXTH LINK.
False names
From that day on, we had new identities. My parents, Albert and Victorine Calef, were now called Maria and Joseph Gomez, born in Spain. Suzette and I (Simone) became Catherine and Michèle Lautar, born in Philippeville. Andrée and Roger became Nicole and Pierre Baudry, born in Dakar. These far-off birthplaces meant that it was almost impossible to verify our identities.
From Lunel, "Pierre" left to join his friend in Perpignan. "Nicole" went with him and managed to rent a room thanks to a little money that my mother had sewn into her clothing.
"Catherine" and I took the train to join my eldest sister, Estelle, who was already married to a non-Jew in Lyon. I never found out how my parents joined us there a few days later, carrying their fake IDs of course. The last time I had seen them, they were staying with farmers in the Valdegour area. But they had had to leave a few days later. My father told me that he had been robbed by "collaborators" who stole his money. My mother had stayed hidden behind a tree. From there, they too decided to make their way to Lyon. But a question remains: did they know we were already there? I no longer recall.
My sister was getting anxious about the constant comings and goings at my brother-in-law's house, so we decided to leave with my mother. We first went to stay with a cousin in Lyon, then at a hotel.
From there, we took the train to Perpignan to join "Pierre" and "Nicole". We didn't feel safe. We were very afraid. We thought about the photos of us we had given to that woman. We were very well known in Nîmes, we could be arrested at any moment.
Perpignan
In Perpignan, we went to the home of Francis, "Pierre's" friend. He told us that he had been unable to keep him there, and that he was in a guest house with "Nicole". We couldn't afford to pay the guest house for all of us, so we found a small furnished apartment. Roger, still convalescing, slept in a room on his own, and the 4 women (3 sisters and my mother) top-to-tail in one bed.
It was December 1943, and we stayed there until the liberation of Perpignan and Nîmes in August 1944.
During this time, we had little to eat. Our meals were mainly composed of old potatoes, stale bread and a pâté substitute.
I would ride my bike to work in a store that made beauty products.
I recall an anecdote. For some reason, all citizens had to renew their ID cards. We swallowed our fear and went to hand over our fake IDs. That’s how we obtained real "false" ID cards. The SEVENTH LINK is called chance.
We lived in fear of a police raid, since they were constantly checking rented apartments. Every time someone knocked at the door we would panic, especially since we knew that a collaborator lived in the neighbourhood.
We survived in this context of fear and hardship, in an occupied France, up until the liberation of Perpignan.
Back to Nîmes
My father left Lyon following the Liberation. He found out that the owner of the apartment where he had been staying with my sister Estelle and her husband was a Communist and member of the Resistance. He had understood the situation and had not informed on them. EIGTH LINK.
In June 1944, we went back home to Nîmes, where we found our house and store ransacked. That was when we learned about the arrests of French Jews, including the Ben Attar family.
In April 1945, I read in the paper that Georges Ben Attar was coming back from Auschwitz. I was happy. We were married in July 1946.
A few years later, we went to Perpignan to meet with the owners of the apartment that I had rented with my family. That was when I learned that the owner had been in the Resistance and that his wife was a Communist. She had helped Spanish Republicans cross the border and saved them by taking them to a doctor.
She had, of course, realised that we were Jews and had not declared the apartment as she should have done. That was why we never experienced a police raid. NINTH LINK.
Thank you
Our story is the proof that every little gesture count, that it constitutes a LINK in a solidand efficient chain: solidarityI want to use the opportunity given to me by my daughter, Hélène, through this website, to thank all of the people, both known and anonymous, who surpassed their fears and hesitations to save lives regardless of the risks they faced.
Despite the years and fading memories, as long as I live, I will remember you. This website serves as a place of memory, and we owe it to you to pass on these stories.
If you have not claimed the medal of the Righteous Among the Nations, know that you deserve it. Thank you.
