Surviving Hell: A Child’s Memories in Occupied Paris

What does war do to the soul of a city? To the essence of a people? These are the questions we approach as we dive into the memories of Janine Simone Hopkins, a Parisian whose childhood was shaped under the dark shadow of German occupation and the triumphant explosion of Paris’ liberation. Janine, encouraged by her family, recorded her memories in a narrative that transports us to a time when daily life was permeated by fear, scarcity, and silent resistance.

The Coldness of Winter and the Warmth of Fear

Born on April 5, 1933, Janine was only seven years old when the Germans invaded Paris. Her younger sister, Josette, born in 1940, has few memories of that period, but the ones she has are vivid. The years of occupation were marked by harsh winters, without adequate heating. Apartment windows turned into solid blocks of ice, and the cold penetrated bones and hearts. “Our fingers and feet were always swollen from the cold,” Janine recalled, describing the painful swellings that tormented the skin. The physical darkness reflected the blackout of hope that weighed upon Parisians.

Seeking Refuge in Words and Resistance

When the bombings became a real threat, Janine’s family took refuge in an old coal cellar. The memory of this makeshift shelter is marked by the terror it provoked. “If we were bombed and died, we preferred to die together,” they said, choosing to huddle in the apartment, within familiar walls, rather than face the horror of the cellar. It was passive resistance, but resistance nonetheless.

Food was scarce, rationed down to the bone. For adults, only 50 grams of meat per week, and that included what many of us wouldn’t even consider edible. Janine’s grandmother, who lived outside Paris, brought vegetables from her garden, and occasionally, a rabbit. Josette never forgot the bitter taste of “stone soup” her mother made, always with tapioca, an ingredient that still repulses her today.

A City Watching Its Liberation

The radio was the connection to the outside world, the thread of hope. In the dark, Janine’s family gathered around the device, listening to De Gaulle’s broadcasts. On the corridor wall, Janine’s father had hung a map of France. With small flags, the family tracked the Allies’ advance toward Paris. Each movement, each victory, was celebrated with restrained hope.

But the German retreat was no less terrifying than the occupation. As they marched through the streets of Paris, the German soldiers fired at streetlights and anyone daring to raise a French flag. Janine remembers the moment when a shopkeeper and a black man, both trying to hoist flags, were summarily executed by the Germans.

Liberation Day: A Mix of Fear and Joy

In late August 1944, the long-awaited liberation finally arrived. Janine’s memories of that day are vivid, almost palpable. “Someone entered the courtyard and shouted, ‘they are here, the Americans are here.'” Euphoria filled the air. Hundreds of people ran through the streets to greet the liberators, but to the surprise of many, the first soldiers they saw were not Americans, but the French 2nd Armored Division, commanded by General Leclerc.

Janine vividly recalls how people laughed and cried as cannon shots still crossed the Parisian sky. “We could have been killed right there, standing, laughing and crying, but we weren’t,” she wrote in her memoirs. The liberation brought a mix of relief and fear, a tension that would persist for months, even after the first Allied tanks had entered the city.

Remembering the Americans and Lingering Trauma

For Josette, the strongest memory of the liberation is linked to the American soldiers who came afterward. “They were on tanks, throwing chewing gum and sweets to the children,” she recalls, with a tenderness that contrasts with the years of deprivation. It was a small gesture of normalcy amid chaos.

Despite the liberation, the following days were no less frightening. Janine recalls how German bombs fell on Paris, narrowly missing their targets. “One fell across the street, so close that the metal shutters on our windows bent,” she remembers.

A Life That Never Returned to Normal

The war left deep scars on the Cella family, as it did on so many other French families. Even after the liberation, life did not return to normal. The war in Europe continued for almost a year, and hardships persisted. Josette remembers aid packages coming from relatives in America, bringing food and clothing. The father, who had tried so hard to keep the family together during the war, ended up suffering from severe anemia, requiring vitamin B injections.

Janine and Josette’s parents rarely spoke about the war, but when they gathered with friends, they sent the children to play while the adults discussed the horrors they had lived through. Janine’s father, a veteran of the Franco-Syrian War, spoke more about his experiences in that campaign than about the years of German occupation.

A Legacy of Memories and Unforgotten Lessons

Janine and Josette’s memories are a window into a past that must never be forgotten. The German occupation of Paris was not just a matter of battles and military strategies but also of interrupted lives, daily fears, and a silent struggle for survival.

Through Janine’s words, we are reminded of the power of memory and the importance of keeping the history of those who suffered at the hands of war alive. The suffering of Paris under German rule and the restrained joy of liberation are stories that resonate to this day, as a somber and necessary reminder of the scars that war leaves on a nation and its people.

Yet, despite all the pain, there is also a lesson of resilience, of how, even in the darkest moments, humanity finds ways to resist, to fight, and eventually, to break free. These memories, preserved in Janine’s words, are a legacy we must cherish, not just as part of Paris’s history but as a fundamental part of human history.