bout de papier, Vol. 23, No. 4 (2008) — Summer 2008 // Été 2008, pp. 27–28
At first light on December 24, 1941, Free French naval ships appeared at the mouth of the port of St. Pierre in the islands of St. Pierre et Miquelon, off the south coast of Newfoundland. They con-sisted of the submarine Surcouf, the largest in the world, and three frigates under the command of Admiral Muselier. The Vichy governor, Admiral Robert, surrendered immediately. The Vichy authority had continued after the fall of France and there was much concern about the puppet regime under the domination of the conquering Germans. A plebiscite was held the next day, Christmas, and the vote was over 90% in favour of the cause of de Gaulle.
There was general relief and joy at the liberation of St. Pierre et Miquelon. But later on Christmas day there was a statement from the American Secretary of State, Cordell Hull, denouncing the occupation by the “so-called Free French” as an “arbitrary action contrary to the agreement of all parties.”
The implication was that Ottawa was involved, but the Canadian Government pleaded innocence and ignorance. The operation had taken place after the ships supplied by the Canadian Navy left Halifax. One supposes some of our naval officers must have had knowledge as to where the ships were going.
There were some odd aspects. Our High Commissioner in London, Vincent Massey, was instructed: “In view of the circumstances of Free French occupation of St. Pierre today do not send Christmas greetings to General de Gaulle.” find this strange and very late London time, for holiday good wishes. (See Canada’s Department of External Affairs, Vol 1909-1946, by John Hilliker). There was a suggestion from Washington that Canada should restore the status quo, but our Prime Minister, Mackenzie King, was much too cautious and crafty for that. Churchill was at least puzzled if not bemused by the position of Cordell Hull. (See his masterly The Second World War, Vol Ill).
had some personal, though peripheral connections with the incident. The Canadian Government decided to open the two posts, a High Commissioner’s Office in St. John’s and a Consulate in St. Pierre. There were good reasons, both political and diplomatic, in each case though they were very different. Christopher Eberts set forth for St. Pierre in September 1941 and went with the High Commissioner to Newfoundland. This was the first of my many “foreign” assignments. Chris and had joined the service together in the summer of 1940. jauntily said would try and visit him at Christmas. found out later it was just about impossible to do so in full winter and in wartime.
The first heard of the Free French takeover was on the afternoon of December 24 during a little office party in my attic premises. The manager of the Anglo-American Cable Company telephoned to say that something had happened in St. Pierre as he was unable to talk to their relay station there. lived in former servant quarters above the office, which was convenient for me and helpful to the office and Ottawa as was in effect on duty nearly 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
The next morning had a visit from the American vice consul bearing a little gift. He had, it happened, a French name and French background. We heard on the radio of the liberation of St. Pierre and had a special toast for the occasion. Later that day his boss, Cordell Hull, issued his notorious statement, but never betrayed the vice consul’s true feelings.
After the event the High Commissioner said that no doubt was glad that had not gone to St. Pierre. replied that would always regret missing out on a bit of history.
If had gone to St. Pierre for a private holiday the small gossipy community there would have speculated that Ottawa was involved in the liberation. Even the suspicious Americans might have thought it reinforced their view that Canada had colluded in the invasion. learned later that Eberts had given a party on the evening of December 23 for the Governor, who was kept up late. Local gossip knew of the party.
The above is by way of background to the story of the special St. Pierre postage stamps. Recently Bonhams Auction House of London had an expert come to Toronto, Ottawa and Montreal seeking stamps for an upcoming auction. So dug my envelopes out of the safety deposit box.
The Free French overprinted a set of 18 stamps with the text: “Noël 1941 France Libre ENEL” — (the letters standing for Forces Navales Françaises Libres). Eberts sent me a business-size envelope with all these stamps on the front. Mine were overprinted in red ink or, as the philatelists seem to prefer “carmine.” The huge and authoritative Scott Stamp Catalogue, 2008 edition, Vol. 5, says my set is worth about $800-$1,000. The same set with black ink is worth more than double this, because of rarity. Scott also has an unusual text explaining some of the story of the St. Pierre stamps, with a warning against counterfeit. Stamp collecting or philately has some aspects that are difficult to appreciate.
In September 1942, St. Pierre issued two new sets marked still France Libre, one with 14 stamps of a fishing schooner and the other with 7 stamps of an aeroplane. Eberts sent me two “first-day covers” with all of these stamps on the fronts. The schooner envelope also had printed on it the Cross of Lorraine, the symbol of de Gaulle. Later in October was sent on temporary duty in St. Pierre (I went there in a RCAF Catalina flying boat from a “pond” near St. John’s. There was no airstrip at St. Pierre). sent the two new sets to my sister in Montreal.
The Bonhams expert said my two envelopes were worth more as they bore the seal of the Canadian censor and are rarer. The first-day covers were issued in large quantities and were sold by the Free French in Canada. can believe this as the Free French ran active offices in Montreal and Ottawa, raising money for their social work and promoting the cause.
Bonhams wanted to take the five envelopes and illustrate them in a catalogue; they would be offered as one lot. They were confident there would be interested buyers, especially from France. After rapid consultation we decided to keep them in the family.
There is a sad end-note. The mighty Surcouf was lost, somewhat mysteriously, in the Caribbean on 19 February 1942. The crew had the overprinted Christmas stamps which of course were also lost.
Vive la France Libre.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 23, No. 4 (2008) — Summer 2008 // Été 2008, pp. 27–28. Read the rest of this issue →
