The Politics of Industrial Collaboration during

World War II

Did Ford SAF sabotage the German war effort by deliberately manufac-
turing fewer vehicles than they could have? Ford SAF claimed after the
war that they did. Exploring the nature and limits of industrial collabo-
ration in occupied France, Imlay and Horn trace the wartime activities of
Ford Motor Company’s French affiliate. The company began making
trucks and engine parts for the French military, but from 1940 until
Liberation in 1944 was supplying the Wehrmacht. This book offers a
fascinating account of how the company negotiated the conflicting
demands of the French, German and American authorities to thrive
during the war. It sheds important new light on broader issues such as
the wartime relationship between private enterprise and state authority,
Nazi Germany’s economic policies and the nature of the German occu-
pation of France, collaboration and resistance in Vichy France and the
role of American companies in occupied Europe.

Talbot Imlay is a Professor at the Department of Historical Sciences at

the Université Laval, Québec, Canada
Martin Horn is Associate Professor of History at McMaster University,
Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
The Politics of Industrial
Collaboration during
World War II
Ford France, Vichy and Nazi Germany

Talbot Imlay
Université Laval
and
Martin Horn
McMaster University
University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom

Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge.

It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of
education, learning and research at the highest international levels of excellence.

www.cambridge.org
Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107016361
© Talbot Imlay and Martin Horn 2014
This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception
and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements,
no reproduction of any part may take place without the written
permission of Cambridge University Press.
First published 2014
Printed in the United Kingdom by Clays, St Ives plc
A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication data
Imlay, Talbot C.
The politics of industrial collaboration during World War II : Ford France, Vichy and
Nazi Germany / Talbot Imlay, Universite Laval and Martin Horn, McMaster
University.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-107-01636-1 (hardback)
1. Ford SAF – History. 2. World War, 1939–1945 – Economic
aspects. 3. Automobile industry and trade – France – History – 20th
century. 4. France – History – German occupation, 1940-1945. I. Horn, Martin,
1959– II. Title.
HD9710.F72I65 2014
338.70 629222094409044–dc23
2013040524
ISBN 978-1-107-0-1636-1 Hardback
Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of
URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication,
and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain,
accurate or appropriate.
 Contents

Preface page vii

List of abbreviations ix

Introduction 1
1 Ford SAF: 1929–1940 21
2 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941 50
3 A year of transition: 1942 102
4 A period of decision: the first half of 1943 149
5 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration:
1943–1944 194
6 From Liberation to disappearance: 1944–1953 246
Conclusion 264

Appendix A: Ford operations in France 1929 – June 1946 270

Appendix B: Ford SAF’s production during the Occupation 272
Bibliography 274
Index 289

v
 Preface

This book began as a standard research grant from the Social Sciences and
Humanities Research Council of Canada to investigate the experiences
of American companies in occupied France during World War II.
Preliminary research led us to conclude that the subject was too large:
there were simply too many American companies present in too many
industries. Accordingly, we decided to focus on one company, Ford
SAF – the Ford Motor Company’s French affiliate. The choice was partly
serendipitous. While working in the National Archives in Paris, we dis-
covered several files concerning Ford SAF in the records of the post-
Liberation investigation into the wartime activities of François Lehideux,
the head of Vichy’s Comité d’organisation for the automobile industry.
The more we read, the more convinced we became that Ford SAF’s
wartime story was not only worth recounting in its own right but that it
also provided an interesting window into the subject of industrial collab-
oration in occupied France. The resulting book is divided into six chapters
together with an introduction and conclusion. Martin Horn wrote chapter
1 and Talbot Imlay wrote chapters 2 through 6.
The research for the book was made possible by generous support from
the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada as well as
from the Université Laval’s Fonds de soutien aux activités académiques.
The research was conducted in four countries, and we are grateful to the
archivists and staffs of the various libraries and archival centres for their
assistance. The Université Laval’s inter-university library loan staff deserve
special mention: they patiently and efficiently processed Talbot Imlay’s
numerous requests for books and articles. Martin Horn and Talbot Imlay
are extremely grateful to Han Otto Frøland and Jonas Scherner for inviting
them to present their work at the workshop on ‘Industry in Occupied
Europe’, which was held at the Norwegian University of Science and
Technology Trondheim in May 2012.
On a more personal note, Martin Horn would like to thank Katarina
Todic for her assistance with the secondary research. He dedicates the
book to Lisa, Madelaine and Miranda with his love and gratitude. Talbot

vii
viii Preface

Imlay would like to thank Andrew Barros, Aline Charles, Donald Fyson,
Peter Jackson, Simon Kitson, Didier Méhu, Paul Miller and Martin
Thomas, all of whom are colleagues and friends and all of whom have
helped him in uncountable ways. He would also like to thank Hervé Joly
and Pierre-Yves Saunier for their helpful comments on various chapters,
and Jean-Louis Loubet for taking the time to answer several questions. He
is profoundly grateful to Alexandra, Alicia Kate and Julian, the three great
loves of his life, for everything; and to his parents, Robert and Camille
Imlay, for their support and encouragement. Finally, he dedicates the
book to the memory of his grandparents, Isabelle Hamel-Rouart and
Georges Hamel. Both of them lived through the Occupation years, one
in Paris and the other in Germany as a prisoner of war.
 Abbreviations

AA Auswärtiges Amt
ADAP Akten zur Deutschen Auswärtigen Politik
ADY Archives départmentales d’Yvelines, Saint-Quentin-
en-Yvelines
AN Archives nationales, Paris
AP Archives Peugeot, Montbéliard
APP Archives de la préfecture de police, Paris
BAL Bundesarchiv, Berlin-Lichterfelde
BA-MA Bundesarchiv-Militärarchiv, Freiburg
BFRC Benson Ford Research Center, Dearborn, MI
BNF Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris
CAEF Centre des archives économiques et financières, Savigny-
le-Temple
CCFA Comité des constructeurs français d’automobiles
CMA Commission de modernisation de l’automobile
CO Comité d’organisation
COA Comité d’organisation de l’automobile et du cycle
CSCA Chambre syndicale des constructeurs d’automobiles
DIME Direction des Industries Mécaniques et Électriques
EAC European automobile committee
FMC Ford Motor Company
GBK Generalbevollmächtigten für das Kraftfahrwesen
IB Industrie Beauftragter
MBA Mercedes-Benz Archiv, Stuttgart
MbF Militärbefehlshaber in Frankreich
MPI Ministère de la production industrielle
NARA National Archives and Records Administration, College
Park, MD
OCRPI Office central de répartition des produits industriels
OKW Oberkommando der Wehrmacht
PAAA Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, Berlin

ix
x List of abbreviations

RkBfV Reichskommissariat für die Behandlung feindlichen

Vermögens
RWM Reichswirtschaftsministerium
SAF Société anonyme française
SäSC Sächsisches Staatsarchiv, Chemnitz
SHGN Service historique de la gendarmerie nationale, Vincennes
SHGR Société d’histoire du groupe Renault, Boulogne-Billancourt
TNA The National Archives, Kew Gardens
ZASt Zentralauftragsstelle
 Introduction

In October 1944, two months after the Liberation of Paris, François

Lehideux was arrested by the French police and charged with ‘intelligence
avec l’ennemi’ – with having collaborated with the Germans during the
Occupation. A product of the elite École libre des sciences politiques with
considerable experience in finance and industry, Lehideux had been at the
centre of the Vichy regime’s economic policies, serving as commissioner
for unemployment, delegate-general for national (industrial) equipment,
and state secretary for industrial production.1 In each of these positions,
he worked closely with the German occupation authorities. But it was
Lehideux’s activities as the director of the professional organization for the
French automobile industry, the Comité d’organisation de l’automobile
et du cycle (COA), created in September 1940, that appeared the most
damning. From 1940 to 1944, the automobile industry had worked over-
whelmingly for the Germans, delivering some 85 per cent of its produc-
tion to them. Collectively, French automobile companies had made a
major contribution to Germany’s war effort, and as the industry’s political
chief, Lehideux was deemed to be directly responsible.
Lehideux vigorously – and, ultimately, successfully – defended himself
against the charge of collaboration. In 1946, he was released from prison
and three years later the case against him was dismissed. As with many of
those accused of collaboration, Lehideux pleaded a combination of patrio-
tism and extenuating circumstances: he had defended France’s interests at
a difficult time when choices were extremely limited. Lehideux, however,
went much further in his defence. Rather than a collaborator, he insisted
that he had been an active resister, citing several contacts with wartime
resistance organizations. But the heart of Lehideux’s case rested on the
claim that, under his guidance, the French automobile industry had
systematically sabotaged the German war effort by deliberately under-
producing. For evidence, Lehideux pointed not only to the considerable

1
Patrick Fridenson, ‘François Lehideux 1904–1998’ in Jean-Claude Daumas et al., eds.,
Dictionnaire historique des patrons français (Paris, 2010), 421–3.

1
2 Introduction

gap between pre-war and wartime production levels for the industry as a
whole, but also to concrete cases, most notably that of the Ford Motor
Company’s French affiliate, Ford Société anonyme française (Ford
SAF).2 According to Lehideux, the COA had worked with Ford SAF to
ensure that it produced relatively little for the Wehrmacht during 1943–4,
a critical period in which the Germans pressured the company to partic-
ipate in a European-wide truck production programme. Ford SAF, in
short, became a centre-piece of Lehideux’s defence against the accusation
that he and the French automobile industry had collaborated with the
Germans.
Lehideux’s defensive strategy draws attention to one subject of this book:
Ford SAF and its wartime activities. As a majority-owned American com-
pany operating in France, Ford SAF found itself threatened from several
sides during the Occupation, and especially after the United States
entered the war in December 1941. In addition to the danger of expro-
priation by the Germans as an enemy-owned company, it had to contend
with a Vichy regime engaged in a policy of state collaboration with the
occupiers as well as with powerful business rivals, most notably Ford-
Werke (Ford Germany), which appeared bent on taking it over. Yet
despite this threatening situation, Ford SAF not only survived but thrived
in occupied France. The company’s wartime profits were sizeable, larger
indeed than many of its counterparts. More significantly, Ford SAF went
from being a relatively minor player in the French automobile industry
during the 1930s to a major one in 1945, almost on a par with the Big
Three – Citroën, Peugeot and Renault. Reflecting this transformation, the
post-Liberation French authorities would assign Ford SAF a prominent
role in their plans for reorganizing the automobile industry.
That Ford SAF worked for the German occupiers, or even that overall it
had a good war, is not particularly revealing. Much the same could be said
for any number of companies in occupied France and Europe.3 World
War II was a large-scale industrial conflict that, in all belligerent countries,
drew a wide variety of businesses into its vortex. Some companies partici-
pated more willingly and profitably than others, but almost none could
resist the war’s pull. In the case of France, Annie Lacroix-Riz recently
castigated the automobile company Renault for producing considerable
amounts of war matériel for the Germans, describing Louis Renault in

2
AN 3W/221, Lehideux deposition, 10 March 1945; and François Lehideux, De Renault à
Pétain. Mémoires (Paris, 2002), 417–24.
3
See Hervé Joly’s comments in ‘The Economy of Occupied Europe and Vichy France:
Constraints and Opportunities’ in Joachim Lund, ed., Working for the New Order: European
Business under German Domination, 1939–1945 (Copenhagen, 2006), 93–103.
 Introduction 3

particular as an enthusiastic collaborator. In response, Laurent Dingli

downplayed the company’s contribution to the German war economy
while also painting a more sympathetic portrait of its director.4 But for
all the attention it attracted, the exchange between Lacroix-Riz and Dingli
has generated more heat than light. The question is not whether French
companies worked for the occupiers or not, since outright refusal was all
but impossible; nor is it whether industrialists were villains or saints, as
most were neither. Instead, the more interesting question concerns the
conditions under which companies operated: how much room for
manoeuvre they possessed; how they understood their interests; and
what choices they made.5 It is in these terms that the claim to deliberate
under-production is intriguing, suggesting as it does that Ford SAF had
options beyond that of simply collaborating with the Germans. One
purpose of this book is to explore these possible options.
In examining the activities of Ford SAF during the German occupation,
this book draws on the burgeoning field of wartime business history.
Much of this scholarship focuses on Nazi Germany, with scholars gen-
erally agreeing that German companies enjoyed some room for manoeu-
vre, even if they disagree on precisely how much.6 If companies had little
choice but to work for the regime, the extent to which they did so could
not simply be dictated. Their participation in the war effort was shaped by
a complex and shifting array of incentives, constraints and calculations. As
always, companies sought to make money and, more basically, to ensure
their short-term and long-term survival and prosperity. At the same time,
they faced new and considerable constraints, among them: massive

4
Annie Lacroix-Riz, ‘Louis Renault et la fabrication de chars pour la Wehrmacht’, personal
communication, February 2011. We are grateful to Professor Lacroix-Riz for providing us
with a copy of her text. In a forthcoming and revised version of an earlier study, Lacroix-Riz
develops her case against Renault and against French industrialists in general in far greater
detail. See her Industriels et banquiers sous l’Occupation (Paris, 2014). For critics, see
Laurent Dingli, ‘Réponse à l’historienne Annie Lacroix-Riz’, available at www.louisrenault.
com/index.php/reponse-a-annie-lacroix-riz.
5
See the comments in Fabian Lemmes, ‘Collaboration in Wartime France’, European
Review of History, 15 (2008), 170–3.
6
For Nazi Germany, see Christoph Buchheim, ‘Unternehmen in Deutschland und NS-Regime
1933–1945. Versuch einer Synthese’, Historische Zeitschrift, 282 (2006), 35–90;
Christoph Buchheim and Jonas Scherner, ‘The Role of Private Property in the Nazi
Economy: The Case of Industry’, Journal of Economic History, 66 (2006), 390–416;
Ralf Banken, ‘Kurzfristiger Boom oder langfrisriger Forschungsschwerpunkt? Die neuere
deutsche Unternehmensgeschichte und die Zeit des Nationalsozialismus’, Geschichte in
Wissenschaft und Unterricht, 56 (2005), 183–96; and Werner Plumpe, ‘Les entreprises sous le
nazisme: bilan intermédiare’, Histoire, économie & société, 24 (2005), 453–72. For opposing
viewpoints on the question of companies’ room for manœuvre, see Peter Hayes, ‘Corporate
Freedom of Action in Nazi Germany’ as well as the response by Christoph Buchheim and
Jonas Scherner, in the Bulletin of the German Historical Institute, 45 (2009), 29–50.
4 Introduction

matériel shortages; the danger of intervention by the authorities and rapidly

changing and thus highly uncertain domestic and international environ-
ments. Companies had to consider all these factors, assessing as best they
could their short-term and long-term interests.
To be sure, Nazi Germany was not Vichy France. The first was a nation
engaged in a colossal war of racial and territorial conquest, the second a
defeated country partially and then fully under foreign occupation. For all its
desire to remake France, Vichy’s ambitions and scope for action paled beside
those of the Nazi regime. Nevertheless, as Marcel Boldorf convincingly
argues, the guiding principles of France’s economy under German occupa-
tion resembled those of Nazi Germany. In seeking to harness the productive
capacity of French companies, the Germans generally favoured the use of
incentives rather than coercion.7 Leaving aside the question of whether or not
the economy of occupied France (or of Nazi Germany) can be described as
capitalist, it is clear that French companies enjoyed some freedom in deter-
mining the conditions under which they worked for the Germans.
Questions remain, however: how much freedom did companies have
and how did they use it? For answers, one needs to turn to concrete cases.
In doing so, scholars can benefit from a wave of recent work on wartime
France. Indeed, thanks in large part to Hervé Joly’s multi-year research
project on ‘French firms during the Occupation’, the subject is now a well-
established research field.8 Yet this does not mean that there is nothing left
to say. Each company has its own story, and that of Ford SAF, as this book
will show, contains more than its share of colourful personalities, gripping
drama and even intrigue.
But there are other reasons for singling out Ford SAF. Unlike other
companies in occupied France, it was not French – or at least not completely

7
Marcel Boldorf, ‘Die gelenkte Kriegswirtschaft im bestetzten Frankreich (1940–1944)’ in
Christoph Buchheim and Marcel Boldorf, eds., Europaïsche Volkswirtschaften unter
deutscher Hegemonie, 1938–1945 (Munich, 2012), 109–30. For a similar argument regard-
ing occupied Europe as a whole, see Johannes Bähr and Ralf Banken, ‘Ausbeutung durch
Recht? Einleitende Bermerkungen zum Einsatz des Wirtschaftsrechts in der deutschen
Besatzungspolitik 1939–1945’ in Johannes Bähr and Ralf Banken, eds., Das Europa des
‘Dritten Reichs’: Recht, Wirtschaft, Besatzung (Frankfurt am Main, 2005), 1–30.
8
The project ran from 2002 to 2009, producing twelve edited books as well as numerous
journal articles. See the project’s web-site at: http://gdr2539.ish-lyon.cnrs.fr/index_fr.php.
Joly and his collaborators did not invent the business history of wartime France. For
important earlier studies, see Olivier Dard, Jean-Claude Daumas and François Marcot,
eds., L’Occupation, l’État français et les entreprises (Paris, 2000); Annie Lacroix-Riz,
Industriels et banquiers français sous l’Occupation. La collaboration économique avec le Reich et
Vichy (Paris, 1999); Danièle Fraboulet, Les entreprises sous l’Occupation. Le monde de la
métallurgie à Saint-Denis (Paris, 1998); Renaud de Rochebrune and Jean-Claude Hazéra,
Les patrons sous l’Occupation, 2 vols. (Paris, 1995–7); Alain Beltran, Robert Frank and
Henri Rousso, eds., La vie des entreprises sous l’Occupation (Paris, 1994); Claire Andrieu, La
Banque sous l’Occupation. Paradoxes de l’histoire d’une profession (Paris, 1990); and
Emmanuel Chadeau, L’industrie aéronautique en France 1900–1950 (Paris, 1987).
 Introduction 5

and not always so. This situation could create complications, most obvi-
ously following the American entry into the war. As an American-owned
company located in a country (France) occupied by another country
(Germany) at war with the United States, Ford SAF faced risks that
French companies did not. Yet Ford SAF was also a member of the
French automobile industry, and as such could argue that it deserved to
be treated as any other French automobile company. Overall, Ford SAF
would deftly play on the ambiguity surrounding its identity and status. At
times, it presented itself as an American company and at other times as a
French company. In the context of wartime occupation, when the political
pressures to nationalize economies were arguably at their height, this
Janus-faced capability proved to be useful. It helped Ford SAF to exploit
the disagreements not only between the French and German authorities
but also within each national grouping. And this advantage would greatly
aid the company in its search for French as well as German allies.
Another distinguishing feature of Ford SAF was its membership in a
multinational business empire centred on Ford Dearborn (USA).
Although the Americans sought to keep a firm directing hand on the
various Ford affiliates, their ability to do so declined during the hyper-
nationalist 1930s before disappearing almost completely during the war.
Increasingly cut off from Dearborn, the Ford companies in Europe found
themselves in unchartered territory, with no centre to organize relations
between them. For Ford SAF, this became a pressing problem in the wake
of France’s defeat in 1940, when Ford-Werke set out to place the various
Ford companies in continental Europe under its direct control – an effort
that ran parallel to Nazi Germany’s more ambitious project of construct-
ing a territorial empire. As the largest Ford company in Europe after Ford-
Werke, Ford SAF was preoccupied to the point of obsession with the
expansionist aims of its German counterpart, and it would take the lead in
opposing them. But Ford SAF could not do so on its own; to safeguard the
company’s independence would require allies.
Together, Ford SAF’s American ownership and membership in the
Ford empire raised the political stakes involved in its wartime activities.
For neither the French nor the German authorities was Ford SAF simply
one company among many. Adding to Ford SAF’s distinctive situation
was its valuable productive capacity. At the end of the 1930s, the company
had begun to build a new factory at Poissy, just west of Paris, which would
be equipped with state-of-the art machinery, much of it coming from the
United States. By the time of France’s defeat in the summer of 1940 the
factory was almost finished. Poissy’s potential, together with the mystique
of the Ford brand, which conjured up images of modern assembly-lines
pumping out massive quantities of goods, ensured that Ford SAF would
6 Introduction

attract the attention of the Germans from the beginning of the Occupation.
The fact that Ford SAF principally produced trucks would further stoke the
interest of the occupiers. For as the war lengthened and the Wehrmacht’s
need for transport grew desperate, exploiting Ford SAF’s productive
capacity became a priority for the German authorities.
For all these reasons, then, Ford SAF was a site of considerable inter-
action between various French, German and (to a lesser extent) American
actors during the Occupation. This extensive interaction, in turn, makes
the company’s wartime history a valuable instrument for exploring the
second and larger subject of this book: the politics of industrial collabo-
ration in occupied France. The chapters on the wartime years devote
considerable space to the overall political and industrial situation, discus-
sing in detail German and French policies. At first glance, this might seem
excessive, distracting the reader’s attention from Ford SAF. Yet the space
allotted is justified for two reasons. One is to provide the larger context for
Ford SAF’s activities. The German occupation created a highly charged
political environment, which makes it impossible to examine Ford SAF’s
choices, calculations and decisions in isolation.
The second and more ambitious reason for expanding beyond a focus
on Ford SAF is that it allows us to highlight some of the underlying
dynamics at work in the industrial realm during 1940–4. Most scholars
would probably agree that industrial collaboration was not simply a matter
of German dictation but one of Franco-German negotiation, even if the
two sides were not equal partners. More concretely, this meant that
French companies had some say in working out the precise terms of
their collaboration with the Germans. But the wartime history of Ford
SAF suggests more than this – that the say of French companies actually
increased over time. Helpful to understanding how this worked are what
economists call ‘information asymmetries’.9 Despite several attempts, the
occupation authorities failed to devise a system of oversight that would
enable them to scrutinize the activities of French companies. Thus, from
the start the Germans found themselves dependent on French companies,
which were far better placed to know what they could or could not do, to
make the efforts needed to maintain and even increase production. As the
war dragged on and as France’s economic situation deteriorated, this
information asymmetry widened, reinforcing the dependence of the
Germans while increasing the ability of French companies to determine

9
For more on information asymmetries, see Inés Macho-Stadler and J. David Pérez-
Castrillo, An Introduction to the Economics of Information: Incentives and Contracts (Oxford,
2001); and Adam Przeworski, States and Markets: A Primer in Political Economy
(Cambridge, 2008), 69–75.
 Collaboration and resistance 7

the extent of their efforts on behalf of the occupiers. During the course of
the Occupation, in short, the balance of power between the German
authorities and French companies shifted in the latter’s favour. This
simple but important dynamic influenced the policies of all the actors
concerned.

Collaboration and resistance

In exploring the politics of industrial collaboration, the book offers
new perspectives on several historiographical themes related to wartime
France. One theme is that of collaboration and resistance. Generally
speaking, historians are far less willing than before to use either term.
It is not that collaboration and resistance (or collaborators and resisters)
did not exist; rather it is because the terms fail to capture the complexity
of life under occupation. For this reason, Philippe Burrin’s concept
of ‘accommodation’ has proven attractive. According to Burrin,
most French men and women had little choice but to adapt to the
German occupation, a reality they could neither change nor completely
evade, even if they could sometimes influence the terms of adapta-
tion.10 Significantly, Burrin found it easy to apply his framework to
the industrial realm: French industrialists were neither committed
resisters nor collaborators but instead worked with (and for) the
Germans chiefly for lack of alternatives. Up to 1942 at least, it appeared
that Germany had won the war, and commonsense dictated the accept-
ance of this reality. After all, factories had to be run, profits made and
workers paid.11
Burrin’s argument that industrialists accommodated themselves to
the Occupation, however, has been challenged. In some ways, this is a
predictable result of further research. As case studies multiply, the con-
cept of accommodation becomes vulnerable to the same criticism of
catch-all terms such as collaboration and resistance: they lump together
a diverse variety of activities and intentions. Accordingly, in an influential
article François Marcot proposed a classification for the behaviour of
industrialists that went well beyond accommodation to include indiffer-
ence, reticence and opposition as well as resistance and collaboration.12

10
Philippe Burrin, La France à l’heure allemande 1940–1944 (Paris, 1995), 9.
11
Ibid., 233–66.
12
François Marcot, ‘La direction de Peugeot sous l’Occupation: pétainisme, réticence,
opposition et résistance’, Mouvement social, 189 (1999), 27–46; also see his ‘Qu’est-ce
qu’un patron résistant?’ in Dard, Daumas and Marcot, eds., L’Occupation, l’État français
et les entreprises, 277–92.
8 Introduction

Marcot explained that these categories were neither exclusive nor fixed but
could be overlapping and changing, depending on the circumstances. The
classification is certainly useful, and if Marcot had simply stopped here
there would be little more to say. But he did not. Instead, examining the
case of Peugeot he argued that the automobile company had systematically
manifested ‘bad faith’ towards the Germans, doing all it could to hamper
cooperation and even engaging in sabotage – or in what he termed a
‘deliberate strategy for the reduction (freinage) of production’. Casting his
gaze more widely, Marcot suggested that industrialists should be seen not
just as businessmen defending the interests of their firms but also as
resisters moved by patriotism to thwart the occupier.13
Marcot’s argument concerning the sabotage of production in the
French automobile industry has received growing support from scholars.
In his recent study of Peugeot, Jean-Louis Loubet, the leading historian of
the French automobile industry, describes various delays in fulfilling
German orders, all of which, he maintains, were intentional. Echoing
Lehideux’s post-Liberation defence, Loubet also points to the significant
drop in output: in the nine months preceding France’s defeat, Peugeot
produced almost 24,000 vehicles, but only 27,415 during the following
four years of occupation. These figures, he tellingly remarks, ‘speak for
themselves’.14 A similar argument has been made for Renault. Gilbert
Hatry and Emmanuel Chadeau both contend that the company deliber-
ately under-produced, though Hatry attributes this to Renault’s determi-
nation to develop vehicles for post-war markets while Chadeau invokes a
general ‘weariness’ and a ‘je m’en foutisme’ that supposedly afflicted work-
ers, cadres and directors alike. In his biography of Louis Renault, Laurent
Dingli goes further, insisting that Renault and, indeed, all the major
automobile companies embarked on a deliberate and sustained ‘policy
of reduction’.15 Meanwhile, the argument of under-production has also

13
Marcot, ‘La direction de Peugeot sous l’Occupation’, 44–6. For a similar argument for
another sector, see Hubert Bonin, ‘Peut-on imaginer des banquiers patriotes et résistants
(1940–1944)?’, Guerres mondiales et conflits contemporains, 243 (2011), 45–58.
14
Jean-Louis Loubet, La Maison Peugeot (Paris, 2009), 253. Elsewhere, Loubet argues that
the French automobile industry produced 138,350 vehicles during the war, representing
15 per cent of its pre-war potential. See Loubet, ‘Le travail dans quelques entreprises
automobiles françaises sous l’Occupation’ in Christian Chevandier and Jean-Claude
Daumas, eds., Travailler dans les entreprises sous l’Occupation (Besançon, 2007), 183.
15
Gilbert Hatry, Louis Renault. Patron absolu (Paris, 1990), 392–5; Emmanuel Chadeau,
Louis Renault (Paris, 1998), 290; and Laurent Dingli, Louis Renault (Paris, 2000), 468.
Monika Riess is admittedly more ambivalent about claims of deliberate under-production
for Renault. See Monika Riess, Die deutsche-französische industrielle Kollaboration während
des Zweiten Weltkrieges am Beispiel der Renault-Werke (1940–1944) (Frankfurt am Main,
2002), 339–43.
 Collaboration and resistance 9

been applied to other sectors of the economy, among them the steel,
electrical and aircraft industries.16
Interestingly, for all its popularity, the case for deliberate under-
production has received little critical scrutiny. All too often, scholars
appear to accept at face value the declarations of the automobile compa-
nies regarding their activities. Yet more scepticism is surely needed. Many
of the claims originated in the immediate post-Vichy period, when indus-
trialists as a group stood accused of collaboration. Barely one month after
the Liberation of Paris, Renault began to rehearse the argument that it had
consistently worked to reduce the quantity and quality of output for the
Germans. The self-justificatory impetus of the exercise was obvious.17
Another cause for scepticism is that under-production is extremely diffi-
cult to demonstrate. For obvious reasons there is no smoking gun in the
form of contemporary and clear-cut instructions. But a more basic prob-
lem is that the claim itself is often vague. Who are the principal actors
involved: individual workers; groups of strategically placed workers; or the
workforce as a whole? When does sabotage occur: before, during and/or
after the manufacturing and assembly processes? Equally pertinent, the
notable drop in wartime production cannot be attributed to a single
factor. Growing shortages of manpower, raw matériels, semi-finished
goods, energy and transport during 1940–4 created a new and profoundly
different economic situation. Simply to compare production figures
before and after 1940 is misleading, since even with the best of intentions
no automobile company could have attained anything near its pre-war
output during the Occupation.

16
Christophe Capuno, ‘Travailler chez Schneider sous l’Occupation. Le cas des usines du
Creusot’ in Chevandier and Daumas, eds., Travailler dans les entreprises sous l’Occupation,
187–206; Heinrich Homburg, ‘Wirtschaftliche Dimensionen der deutschen
Besatzungsherrschaft in Frankreich 1940–1944: Das Beispiel der elektrotechnischen
Industrie’ in Werner Abelshauer et al., eds., Wirtschaftsordnung, Staat und Unternehmen:
Neue Forschungen zur Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Nationalsozialismus (Essen, 2003), 196–8; de
Rochebrune and Hazéra, Les patrons sous l’Occupation, I, 71–2; Fraboulet, Les entreprises
sous l’Occupation, 194–5; Herrick Chapman, State Capitalism and Working-Class
Radicalism in the French Aircraft Industry (Berkeley, 1991), 244–5; Richard Vinen, ‘The
French Coal Industry during the Occupation’, Historical Journal, 33 (1990), 105–30; and
Roger [sic] Frankenstein, ‘Die deutschen Arbeitskräfteaushebungen in Frankreich und
die Zusammenarbeit der französischen Unternehmen mit der Besatungsmacht, 1940–
1944’ in Waclaw Długoborski, ed., Zweiter Weltkrieg und sozialer Wandel (Göttingen,
1981), 2–33, and especially 218.
17
SHGR, 30, ‘Note sur l’exécution des commandes allemandes pendant la période d’oc-
cupation allemande’, 6 September 1944; and 53, ‘Services techniques’, 11 November
1944. Peugeot also began to prepare this defence in the autumn of 1944. See AN Z/6NL/
80, ‘Activité de la Société des automobiles Peugeot de Septembre 1939 à Septembre
1944’, 10 October 1944.
10 Introduction

Given the grounds for scepticism, it is tempting to reject entirely the

argument of deliberate under-production. Yet this would be a mistake, for
there are reasons to take the claim seriously. One of them is the changing
nature of the war. If powerful incentives existed in 1940–2 for cooperating
with the Germans, this was less so afterwards. As the possibility (and then
likelihood) emerged that Germany would lose the war, companies were
compelled to reconsider the short-term and long-term benefits of collab-
oration. Another and related reason concerns the state of France’s war-
time economy. Here, some of the scholarship on the Stalinist Soviet
Union is suggestive.18 The Soviet economy was in permanent crisis, a
situation generated by a combination of urgent pressure to produce,
unrealistic targets and shortages of various matériels. To get anything
done, companies were forced to go outside official channels to procure
what they needed, engaging in endless rounds of negotiation with various
authorities and suppliers – a process well-oiled by blat (influence and
bribes). A premium, in short, was placed on resourcefulness. Although
Vichy France was obviously not the Soviet Union, its economy suffered
from mounting and debilitating handicaps, which meant that resource-
fulness (or débrouillardise) became an element of increasing importance to
economic activity.19 But because débrouillardise is difficult for outsiders to
measure, companies in wartime France possessed considerable latitude in
determining just how resourceful they would be. Indeed, as the overall
economic situation worsened during the Occupation the room for
manoeuvre of companies grew larger. In this situation, companies could
in theory decide to produce less than they could.
But what happened in reality? The wartime history of Ford SAF
provides an opportunity to assess the claim that French automobile com-
panies deliberately under-produced. Using a variety of sources, The
Politics of Industrial Collaboration weighs the evidence for and against
under-production, attempting to distinguish what is plausible from what
is not. The task is far from straightforward: much of the evidence is
ambiguous and can be interpreted in more ways than one. Nevertheless,
the book builds a circumstantial case that Ford SAF did under-produce,
particularly in terms of its participation in the European-wide truck
production programme during 1943–4. Yet, just as importantly, it

18
For example, see Richard Overy, The Dictators: Hitler’s Germany and Stalin’s Russia
(London, 2004), 433–4; and David Shearer, Industry, State, and Society in Stalin’s
Russia, 1926–1934 (Ithaca, NY, 1996), 34–40, 53–75, 175–82.
19
Kenneth Mouré has characterized Vichy economic policy as ‘trying to manage penury’.
See his ‘Economic Choice in Dark Times: The Vichy Economy’, French Politics, Culture &
Society, 25 (2007), 110.
 Germany’s exploitation of France 11

contends that under-production of this type did not constitute resistance

since Ford SAF was not opposed in principle to working for the Germans.

Germany’s exploitation of France

Much of the existing scholarship gives the impression that the Germans
were remarkably successful in exploiting France. In his classic study of the
new economic order in France, Alan Milward indicated the multiple ways
in which the Germans extracted wealth and resources: through massive
occupation costs; a highly distorted exchange rate; the manipulation of
clearing arrangements; the widespread pillaging of matériel; the placing of
contracts with French companies and the conscription of French men and
women for work in Germany.20 Subsequent scholarship has largely con-
firmed Milward’s portrait of extensive exploitation. A trio of economic
historians recently calculated that the transfer of French wealth to
Germany amounted to one third of GDP in 1941–2, and continued to
increase thereafter – levels they term ‘stunning’.21 In those sectors of the
economy that the Germans deemed particularly important to their war
effort, the proportion could be even greater, ranging from 45 per cent to
100 per cent of French production. At roughly 85 per cent (as already
noted), the automobile industry easily figured among the most thoroughly
exploited.22
There is no doubt that France became a major contributor to Nazi
Germany’s war effort. At the same time, however, recent scholarship
points to the need to nuance the overall picture of a successful
exploitation. In his study of the Nazi economy, Adam Tooze con-
cluded that occupied Europe remained an economic ‘basket case’
during the war, utterly incapable of providing Germany with the
resources needed to match those of the global coalition of powers

20
Alan S. Milward, The New Order and the French Economy (Oxford, 1970).
21
Filippo Occhino, Kim Oosterlinck and Eugene N. White, ‘How Much Can a Victor Force
the Vanquished to Pay? France under the Nazi Boot’, Journal of Economic History, 68
(2008), 7. Also see Marcel Boldorf and Jonas Scherner, ‘France’s Occupation Costs and
the War in the East: The Contribution to the German War Economy, 1940–4’, Journal of
Contemporary History, 47 (2012), 291–316; Götz Aly, Hitlers Volksstaat. Raub, Rassenkrieg
und nationaler Sozialismus (Frankfurt am Main, 2006), 114–89; Arne Radtke-Delacor,
‘Produire pour le Reich. Les commandes allemandes à l’industrie française (1940–
1944)’, Vingtième Siècle, 70 (2001), 99–115; Peter Liberman, Does Conquest Pay? The
Exploitation of Occupied Industrial Societies (Princeton, 1996), 36–68; and Christoph
Buchheim, ‘Die Besetzten Länder im Dienste der deutschen Kriegswirtschaft während
des Zweiten Weltkrieges. Ein Bericht der Forschungsstelle für Wehrwirtschaft’,
Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte, 34 (1986), 128–32.
22
See the chart in Michel Margairaz, L’État, les finances et l’économie. Histoire d’une conversion
1932–1952, 2 vols. (Paris, 1991), I, 599–600.
12 Introduction

arrayed against it. More precisely, Tooze argued that the Germans
failed to mobilize the economic potential of Western Europe in
particular – a failure underscored by the yawning gap between pre-
war and wartime production.23 The figures for German exploitation
might be striking when considered in isolation; but they are less
impressive when set against the fact that the economies of Europe
shrunk considerably under the Occupation.24 If Tooze considers
occupied Western Europe as a whole, the research of Jonas
Scherner suggests that it is worthwhile to examine more closely the
situation of individual countries. Using revised statistics on German
imports, Scherner re-calculated the yearly value of occupied
Europe’s wartime production for the Wehrmacht, revealing in the
process intriguing differences.25 Contrary to the widespread belief
that France constituted the single largest foreign contributor of
industrial production to Germany’s war economy, it appears that it
was rivalled and even exceeded in absolute terms by the Protectorate
(Bohemia and Moravia), despite the latter’s smaller pre-war indus-
trial capacity. No less significantly, while the value of the contribu-
tion of most occupied countries in Western and Northern Europe
witnessed considerable increases during the second half of the
Occupation, that of France stagnated and even declined beginning
in 1942.26 It would seem that Germany’s failure to exploit occupied
Europe more fully was greater in France than elsewhere.

23
Adam Tooze, The Wages of Destruction: The Making and Breaking of the Nazi Economy
(London, 2006), 411–20. Also see Johannes Houwinck ten Cate, ‘Die
rüstungswirtschaftliche Ausnutzung Westeuropas während der ersten Kriegshälfte’ in
Gerhard Otto and Johannes Houwinck ten Cate, eds., Das organisierte Chaos.
‘Amsterdarwinismus’ und ‘Gesinnungsethik’: Determinanten nationalsozialistischer
Besatzungsherrschaft (Berlin, 1999), 173–98.
24
Hein Klemann recently questioned the extent of this shrinkage, arguing that the GDP
figures frequently used do not take account of clandestine production. But even if one
accepts Klemann’s ‘educated guesses’ for the latter, France’s GDP markedly declined
during the Occupation. See Hein Klemann and Sergei Kudryashov, Occupied Economies:
An Economic History of Nazi-Occupied Europe, 1939–1945 (New York, 2012), 324–35.
25
Jonas Scherner, ‘Europas Beitrag zu Hitlers Krieg. Die Verlagerung von
Industrieaufträgen der Wehrmacht in die besetzten Gebiete und ihre Bedeutung für die
deutsche Rüstung im Zweiten Weltkrieg’ in Buchheim and Boldorf, eds., Europaïsche
Volkswirtschaften unter deutscher Hegemonie, 69–92; and ‘Der deutsche Importboom
während des Zweiten Weltkriegs. Neue Ergebnisse zur Struktur der Ausbeutung des
besetzten Europas auf der Grundlage einer Neuschätzung der deutschen
Handelsbilanz’, Historische Zeitschrift, 292 (2012), 79–113.
26
For the Protectorate, see Jaromír Balcar and Jaroslav Kučera, ‘Nationalsozialistische
Wirtschaftslenkung und unternehmerische Handlungsspielräume im Protektorat
Böhmen und Mähren (1939–1945)’ in Buchheim and Boldorf, eds., Europaïsche
Volkswirtschaften unter deutscher Hegemonie, 147–71. They describe the Protectorate as
the ‘armoury of the Reich’.
 The nature of the German Occupation 13

If so, there is no simple answer to why the exploitation of France

posed particular problems. A fully satisfactory answer would require a
wide-ranging and multi-level analysis of the evolving political-economic
situation in both France and the rest of occupied Europe. While such an
analysis is beyond the scope of this study, The Politics of Industrial
Collaboration does address one question that is vital to any effort to assess
the relative success and failure of Germany’s efforts to exploit France: the
ability of the occupiers to compel French industries and companies to
work for them. As already noted, Ford SAF’s wartime history suggests
that French companies not only enjoyed some say in determining the
extent to which they collaborated with the Germans, but also that this say
grew larger over time. As the overall military situation worsened, the
Germans urgently needed French industry to work wholeheartedly for
them; at the same time, having almost no means of verifying whether this
was in fact the case, the Germans were forced to rely on the self-interest of
French companies. With good cause, however, the occupation authorities
suspected that French industrialists and workers were losing interest in
industrial collaboration. Companies such as Ford SAF would continue to
work for the Germans, but as the Occupation wore on they had more and
more reasons to limit their efforts. The interests of French companies
increasingly diverged from those of the occupiers, and this divergence can
help in understanding why Germany failed to mobilize more fully
France’s industrial potential.

The nature of the German Occupation

Since the appearance in 1972 of Robert Paxton’s ground-breaking
study, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order, 1940–1944, scholars
have framed the history of Vichy largely in Franco-French terms.27
Regardless of the type of history (political, economic, social, cultural),
the Occupation years are presented as belonging first and foremost to
French history. The emphasis is on the continuities and discontinuities
of Vichy with both the pre-war and post-war periods. This perspective
has proved remarkably fruitful, producing a rich body of scholarship
that convincingly demonstrates the French origins of many of Vichy’s
policies as well as the regime’s enduring legacy after 1945. Yet for all its
benefits, this perspective has fostered a tendency to neglect the
Germans, who all too often are cast in the role of secondary actors

27
Robert Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order, 1940–1944 (New York, 1972).
On Paxton’s influence, see Henry Rousso, Le syndrome de Vichy: de 1944 à nos jours (Paris,
1990), 287–92.
14 Introduction

when not serving as mere stage props.28 The occupiers, it is generally

accepted, were too few in number to run occupied France, which
forced them to leave much of the administration to the French author-
ities. At most, the Germans exercised some limited oversight of French
activities but little more.
In recent years, there has been a renewal of interest in the German
occupation, which challenges the view of the occupiers as largely passive
and even absent actors. Driven by the question of whether the German
military authorities, often grouped under the title Militärbefehlshaber in
Frankreich (MbF), waged a Nazi racial-ideological war in France, several
scholars have investigated the MbF’s involvement in the crimes of the
Nazi regime. Their collective conclusion is that the Germans were far
more active than previously thought. During 1941–2, the MbF took the
initiative not only in the use of mass reprisals against the French popula-
tion for attacks on occupation personnel, but also in the introduction of
the Final Solution to France.29 In a painstaking study, Gaël Eismann
showed that German military and security forces were very engaged at
the local level throughout the Occupation, working closely with their
French counterparts in tracking down Nazi Germany’s various ‘enemies’.
Somewhat similarly, Michael Mayer maintains that the occupation
authorities exercised considerable ‘indirect’ influence on Vichy’s anti-
Semitic policies.30
If this renewal of interest in the German occupation offers a welcome
counterpoint to the Franco-French perspective that has dominated Vichy
historiography, its focus on the security realm has come at the expense of
the economic aspects of the Occupation. This is unfortunate because the

28
For examples, see Henry Rousso, Le régime de Vichy (Paris, 2007); Richard Vinen, The
Unfree French: Life under the Occupation (London, 2006); Julian Jackson, France: The Dark
Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford, 2001); and Jean-Pierre Cointet, Histoire de Vichy (Paris,
1996).
29
Ahlrich Meyer, Die deutsche Besatzung in Frankreich 1940–1944: Widerstandsbekämpfung
und Judenverfolgung (Darmstadt, 2000); Ahlrich Meyer, Täter im Verhör: Die ‘Endlösung
der Judenfrage’ in Frankreich 1940–1944 (Darmstadt, 2005); and Regina M. Delacor,
Attentate und Repressionen: Ausgewählte Dokumente zur zyklichschen Eskalation des NS-
Terrors im besetzten Frankreich 1941/42 (Stuttgart, 2000). Also see Thomas J. Laub, After
the Fall: German Policy in Occupied France, 1940–1944 (Oxford, 2010); and Allan Mitchell,
Nazi Paris: The History of an Occupation, 1940–1944 (New York, 2008).
It is worth noting that Meyer and Delacor in particular were reacting not to Vichy
scholarship but to earlier work on the MbF, which they viewed as apologetic. For earlier
work, see Hans Umbreit, Der Militärbefehlshaber in Frankreich, 1940–1944 (Boppard am
Rhein, 1968); and Eberhard Jäckel, Frankreich in Hitlers Europa. Die deutsche
Frankreichpolitik im 2. Weltkrieg (Stuttgart, 1966).
30
Gaël Eismann, Hôtel Majestic: ordre et sécurité en France occupée (1940–1944) (Paris, 2010);
and Michael Mayer, Staaten als Täter: Ministerialbürokratie und ‘Judenpolitik’ in NS-
Deutschland und Vichy-Frankreich: ein Vergleich (Munich, 2010).
 The nature of the German Occupation 15

German military authorities viewed security not as an end in itself but as a

precondition for their principal task, which they defined as harnessing the
French economy to the German war effort. ‘Our primary goal’, asserted a
high-ranking German officer in September 1942, is to use ‘all the resources
of the French people (der gesamten französischen Volkskraft). . .in favour of an
increase of our armaments potential.’31 If anything, this priority increased in
importance over time as Germany’s overall military situation deteriorated
and its need to mobilize French industrial capacity correspondingly grew
more pressing.
Reflecting this priority, the Germans built an extensive economic
administration in occupied France. If the MbF was initially responsible
for this administration, beginning in 1942 the military authorities would
be increasingly pushed aside by Albert Speer, Nazi Germany’s armaments
tsar, who was eager to expand his economic and industrial empire into
France. As is well known, Speer encountered considerable opposition,
especially from Fritz Sauckel, Hitler’s plenipotentiary for labour recruit-
ment. Whereas Speer maintained that French workers could be best used
in French factories working for the Wehrmacht, Sauckel insisted that
French workers were more urgently needed (and would be more produc-
tive) working in Germany. In typical fashion, Hitler avoided choosing
between his two paladins, allowing each one to pursue his own course.
The result of this clash was a good deal of confusion and chaos, which
hampered German efforts to exploit France.32
The wartime history of Ford SAF, however, draws attention to a less-
well-known aspect of the German economic administration: its presence
at the local and factory levels. The size of the German occupation forces
in France was admittedly small, numbering a mere 20,000 military
personnel in March 1942; the MbF’s administrative staff fluctuated
between 1,200 and 1,600. The German presence was consequently
spotty, concentrated in urban centres and in the coastal regions.33 But
in the economic and especially industrial realms one did not have to
search very long to discover traces of the occupier. In several regions of
France, the Germans established Rüstungskommandos (armaments

31
BA-MA RW 24/38, ‘Niederschrift der Anspruche des Chefs des Deutschen
Beschaffungsamtes in Frankreich Generalmajor Thoenissen. . .’, 1 September 1942,
emphasis in original.
32
Milward, The New Order and the French Economy, 146–80; and Bernd Zielinski,
Staatskollaboration: Vichy und der Arbeitskräfteeinsatz im Dritten Reich (Münster, 1995).
33
Laub, After the Fall, 45; and Peter Lieb, Konventioneller Krieg oder NS-
Weltanschauungskrieg? Kriegführung und Partisanenbekämpfung in Frankreich 1943/44
(Munich, 2007), 56. Also see Robert Gildea, Marianne in Chains: In Search of the
German Occupation in France, 1940–45 (London, 2002), 65–88.
16 Introduction

teams), whose chief purpose was to work with companies producing

matériel for the Wehrmacht. Although the teams lacked the resources
to monitor every factory, they did offer the occupiers a worm’s eye
perspective on companies deemed especially important to the war effort,
Ford SAF among them. Equally pertinent, in addition to the armaments
teams an array of Germans were active at the local level, including
procurement agents from the various military services and from other
state organizations as well as representatives of German industries and
companies. In many ways, this local presence was a response to a basic
problem that bedevilled the occupation authorities: how to ensure the
effective oversight of French companies? Ultimately, as The Politics of
Industrial Collaboration shows, the Germans never found a satisfactory
solution. For now, though, it is the persistence of the problem that is
noteworthy, for it highlights the potential value of a bottom-up approach
to the history of industrial collaboration. By itself, a focus on high
politics – on the Speer–Sauckel clash, for example – can all too easily
obscure the local dynamics at work that helped to shape German
attempts to exploit French industry.
No less significantly, the extensive German economic administration in
France suggests the need for a more Franco-German as opposed to simply
French or German perspective on the subject of industrial collaboration.
As we shall see, the German role in Ford SAF’s wartime history was as
prominent and important as that of the French. And what was true for
Ford SAF was almost certainly so for the industrial realm in general – and
perhaps for other realms as well.

Ford SAF, American business and occupied France

The active presence of American business abroad during the inter-war
years has prompted scholars to revise earlier descriptions of US interna-
tional policy as isolationist after 1918. Regardless of the sector – banking,
insurance, advertising, manufacturing – American companies were oper-
ating on six different continents, exporting a wide variety of goods, skills
and ideas. In this vein, Victoria de Grazia has spoken of an American
‘market empire’ that fostered mass consumer democracies across
Europe.34 One notable element of this expansionist American capitalism
was Fordism. As Mary Nolan among others has shown, inter-war
Europeans were fascinated by the Ford company not only as a business

34
Victoria de Grazia, Irresistible Empire: America’s Advance through Twentieth-Century Europe
(Cambridge, MA, 2005).
 Ford SAF, American business and occupied France 17

enterprise but also as a potential model for society.35 Scholars have thus
used contemporary understandings of Fordism as a window into
European debates about the nature of modernity. During the inter-war
period, writes Egbert Klautke, Fordism became a ‘leading concept’ and
‘marker of the times’ in both Germany and France.36
Such a broad concept of Fordism, however, risks losing sight of its more
limited application at the industry and factory levels. Although the defi-
nition and significance of Fordism were always contested, during the
inter-war period the term conjured up images of modernized and ration-
alized production.37 In France, these images had an especially strong hold
on the automobile industry, which was widely viewed as artisanal and even
antiquated compared to its American counterpart. Recently returned
from a trip to the United States in 1931, which included a visit to Ford
Dearborn, Louis Renault warned that the French automobile industry
was ‘gravely menaced’ and that ‘everything must change’.38 The belief
that the French automobile industry needed to be transformed along
Fordist lines persisted beyond the inter-war period and would influence
Vichy’s approach to industrial collaboration with the Germans. As head of
the automobile industry, Lehideux initially considered collaboration as an
opportunity to overhaul the industry. But Fordist images of mass produc-
tion also had a direct effect on Ford SAF. Fearful of American competition,
French automobile companies during much of the 1930s successfully
lobbied governments for discriminatory measures that were chiefly aimed
at Ford SAF. Ironically, this discrimination eventually persuaded Ford
SAF to begin building its Poissy plant, whose modern (American) design
and equipment were meant to represent the state-of-the-art in automobile

35
Mary Nolan, Visions of Modernity: American Business and the Modernization of Germany
(Oxford, 1994); and Mary Nolan, The Transatlantic Century: Europe and America, 1890–
2010 (Cambridge, 2012), 84–90. Also see the pioneering article by Charles S. Maier,
‘Between Taylorism and Technology: European Ideologies and the Vision of Industrial
Productivity in the 1920s’, Journal of Contemporary History, 5 (1970), 27–61.
36
Egbert Klautke, Unbegrenzte Möglichkeiten. ‘Amerikanisierung’ in Deutschland und
Frankreich (1900–1933) (Stuttgart, 2003), 237–48. Also see Adelheid von Saldern and
Rüdiger Hachtmann, ‘Das fordistische Jahrhundert. Eine Einleitung’, Zeithistorische
Forschungen Online, 6 (2009); and Stefan Link, ‘Transnational Fordism: Ford Motor
Company, Nazi Germany, and the Soviet Union’, Ph.D., Harvard University, 2012,
1–39.
37
On the contested nature of Fordism, see Klautke, Unbegrenzte Möglichkeiten; and von
Saldern and Hachtmann, ‘Das fordistische Jahrhundert. Eine Einleitung’. On modern-
ized and rationalized production, see Steven Tolliday and Jonathan Zeitlin, eds., The
Automobile Industry and its Workers: Between Fordism and Flexibility (New York, 1987).
38
SHGR, 93, ‘Conférence de M. Louis Renault 17 Novembre 1931’, 24 November 1931.
More generally, see Tolliday and Zeitlin, eds., The Automobile Industry and its Workers.
18 Introduction

production – or Fordism in concrete practice. Hoping to give a Fordist

jolt to rearmament, the French government in 1939–40 awarded large
contracts to Ford SAF, helping to convert the company into a producer
of war matériel. Afterwards, it would be the turn of the Germans to chase
the Fordist dream by exploiting Ford SAF’s potential for Nazi Germany’s
war effort.
The Germans would enjoy decidedly mixed results in this endeavour, a
point which draws attention to the wartime period. Generally speaking,
the scholarship on American business in Europe views the war as some-
thing of a hiatus. Much more attention is paid to the inter-war years and to
the 1920s in particular, while the decades after 1945 until the collapse of
Bretton Woods and the first oil shock in the early 1970s are also relatively
well researched.39 To the extent that the wartime period is considered, the
focus is often on the complicity of American companies with the crimes of
the Nazi regime, most notably the use of slave labour and the Holocaust. If
some of this work is sensationalist, for example Edwin Black’s book on
IBM, more balanced studies highlight the complexity of the situation
facing American companies while also avoiding apology.40 Especially
pertinent among the latter is the extensive research report on the activities
of Ford-Werke, Ford Dearborn’s German subsidiary, which was spon-
sored by Ford and overseen by Simon Reich. In many ways, the report is a
tour de force, offering a richly documented analysis of Ford-Werke under
the Nazis that details the extent of the company’s use of forced labour.41
But for all its worth, in concentrating almost exclusively on Germany
the research report represents a missed opportunity to further our under-
standing of American business in wartime Europe. As The Politics of
Industrial Collaboration shows, the history of Ford-Werke was deeply

39
For examples, see Emily S. Rosenberg, Financial Missionaries: The Politics and Culture of
Dollar Diplomacy 1900–1930 (Cambridge, MA, 1999); Frank Costigliola, Awkward
Dominion: American Political, Economic and Cultural Relations with Europe 1919–1933
(Ithaca, NY, 1984); Mira Wilkins, The Maturing of Multinational Enterprise: American
Business Abroad from 1914 to 1970 (Cambridge, MA, 1974); Hubert Bonin and Ferry de
Goey, eds., American Firms in Europe: 1880–1980 (Geneva, 2009); and Richard Kuisel,
Seducing the French: The Dilemma of Americanization (Berkeley, 1997).
40
Edwin Black, IBM and the Holocaust (Washington, 2001); also see Charles Higham,
Trading with the Enemy: An Exposé of the Nazi-American Money Plot, 1933–1949 (New
York, 1983). For more balanced studies, see Henry Ashby Turner, General Motors and the
Nazis (New Haven, 2005); and Charles Cheape, ‘Not Politicians but Sound
Businessmen: Norton Company and the Third Reich’, Business History Review, 62
(1988), 444–6.
41
Ford Motor Company, Research Findings about Ford-Werke under the Nazi Regime (Ford
Motor Company: Dearborn, 2001). Also see Projektgruppe ‘Messelager’, Zwangsarbeit
bei Ford (Köln, 1996); and Reinhold Billstein, Karola Fings, Anita Kugler and
Nicholas Levis, Working for the Enemy: Ford, General Motors, and Forced Labour in
Germany during the Second World War (New York, 2000).
 Chapter outline 19

intertwined with that of Ford SAF. This point is noteworthy for two
reasons. One reason concerns American business in general. American
companies in Nazi Germany faced a different situation from their coun-
terparts in most of occupied Western and Northern Europe, where slave
labour was not an issue. Largely freed of direct involvement in Nazi
crimes, American companies outside of Germany could focus more
single-mindedly on the benefits and risks of producing war matériel for
the Germans. Because the ethical stakes were less acute, the choices and
decisions of companies were less extraordinary – but perhaps for that
reason also more revealing of business calculation in wartime. The second
reason to underscore the intertwined nature of Ford-Werke and Ford
SAF’s wartime histories is that it provides a different perspective on
Ford’s European empire. Studies of the latter tend to consider each
European company in isolation, with the emphasis on its bilateral rela-
tions with Ford Dearborn.42 Yet during much of the Occupation, Ford
SAF and Ford-Werke were engaged in a struggle over the future of Ford
Europe. Just as importantly, this struggle was part of a larger story of
efforts to remake France and to refashion Europe under German aegis.

Chapter outline
Chapter 1 traces the history of Ford SAF from its creation in the 1920s to
the eve of France’s defeat in 1940, emphasizing the company’s struggles
to survive and prosper; only with French rearmament in the late 1930s was
Ford SAF placed on a secure footing. Chapter 2 focuses on the effects of
France’s defeat and on the efforts by Ford-Werke to take control of Ford
SAF. With the help of the COA, Ford SAF managed to preserve its
autonomy in return for a promise to work wholeheartedly for the
Germans – a promise the company initially at least did its best to fulfil.
Chapter 3 discusses the critical year of 1942, the first full year of American
belligerency and also the moment when the course of the war began to
turn against the Germans. If Ford SAF came under increasing pressure to
meet German needs, it also faced the wrath of the Allies as Poissy became
the target of British air raids in the spring. Chapter 4 addresses the efforts
of the German occupation authorities in early 1943 to mobilize all the
economic and industrial resources of occupied France, which included a
renewed attempt by Ford-Werke to take control of Ford SAF. The latter
managed to preserve its independence once more but only by pledging

42
Hubert Bonin, Yannick Lung and Steven Tolliday, eds., Ford 1903–2003: The European
History, 2 vols. (Paris, 2003); and Mira Wilkins and Frank Ernest Hill, American Business
Abroad: Ford on Six Continents (Detroit, 1964).
20 Introduction

itself to participate in a European truck programme directed by Ford-

Werke. Chapter 5 tackles the question of industrial collaboration and
resistance in 1943–4 through an examination of Ford SAF’s contribution
to the truck programme. The chapter builds a circumstantial case that
Ford SAF probably did deliberately under-produce for the Germans, but
also suggests that this outcome did not constitute resistance. Chapter 6
briefly surveys the years from the Liberation in 1944 to the sale of Ford
SAF in 1953. The abandonment by Ford Dearborn of the French market
is a reminder that the American business model was not always trium-
phant in Europe.
1 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

On 8 March 1942, twelve Royal Air Force Boston bombers attacked the
Ford SAF plant at Poissy. The damage was negligible. Several weeks later,
the bombers returned. The raid on the night of 1–2 April also caused little
damage, as the Whitley and Wellington bombers despatched on this
occasion by RAF Bomber Command missed the target. The raid of 2–3
April, undertaken by forty Wellington and ten Stirling bombers, was
much more destructive. A message from Ford SAF passed through the
American embassy at Vichy to Ford Dearborn confessed that Poissy had
been ‘badly damaged’.1 Edsel Ford, son of Henry Ford and the de facto
head of Ford Dearborn for European matters, commiserated, telling
Maurice Dollfus, the managing director of Ford SAF, that he was sorry
that your ‘fine new plant’ had been bombed, but that it was perhaps
‘inevitable’. Edsel Ford concluded that he hopedt production would
soon resume normally.2 Such a sentiment was striking, given that the
United States and Germany were at war and that Edsel Ford was well
aware that production at the Poissy plant consisted of trucks and truck
components for the Wehrmacht. As the raids demonstrated, the British
appreciated Poissy’s activity. In March 1942, a British intelligence report
surveying the French motor industry described the Poissy factory as
the ‘most modern and efficient in France’.3 Ford SAF was perceived –
rightly – by the British as a major player in the French automobile
industry. A company with a plant of this stature could not be allowed to
continue to produce unmolested for the Germans.
Such status was novel for Ford SAF. In 1929, when Ford SAF was
created, Poissy did not exist and the idea of a new Ford manufacturing
plant in France seemed risible. Ford SAF was a minor competitor in an
industry dominated by Renault, Peugeot and Citroën. For much of the

1
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 74, Georges Lesto to Ford Dearborn, 3 June 1942. Lesto was
the assistant manager of Ford SAF.
2
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 74, Edsel Ford to Maurice Dollfus, 17 July 1942.
3
TNA, FO 837/15, report #6, 19 March 1942.

21
22 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

1930s, there was little reason to believe that Ford SAF would ever be any-
thing more marginal in the French automobile sector. The Depression,
gathering force from 1930 onward, metastasized from a serious recession
in the course of 1931. If the French economy initially was less savaged than
the American, it was a fleeting reprieve. The failure of the Creditanstalt in
Austria, followed by the collapse of various German banks, intertwined
with monetary policy that constricted the money supply and the application
of orthodox deflationary steps by governments to undermine successive
economies.4 If some countries emerged from the worst of the Depression
by mid-decade, this was not true of either the United States or of France,
where both economies limped through the Dark Valley of the 1930s. The
French automobile industry was not immune to these developments and
nor was Ford SAF. Put simply, the 1930s was a difficult business environ-
ment in France.
In navigating the shoals of the Depression, Dollfus was the helmsman of
Ford SAF. Appointed managing director in 1930 and remaining in that
post until 1949, Dollfus was combative and vigorous.5 He quickly iden-
tified with Ford SAF and equally quickly began arguing for a more
autonomous role within the Ford empire. Chafing at his subordination
to Sir Percival Perry, the head of Ford Motor UK, Dollfus sought to
exploit his relationship with Henry and Edsel Ford to obtain what he
believed Ford SAF needed to ensure a prosperous future – a manufactur-
ing plant.6 Poissy was his project. Throughout the 1930s, Dollfus worked

4
Harold James, The End of Globalization: Lessons from the Great Depression (Cambridge, MA,
2001).
5
Dollfus had an eclectic business background. He had been a partner of Bernhard, Scholl &
Co. Ltd, bankers in Paris and London. Dollfus was also an investor in Bank Oustric, sat on
the board of the Marchal headlights company and had at one time run Champagne Ayala.
From 1923, he was a director of the French arm of Hispano-Suiza, the Spanish car,
aeronautics and naval engine maker. See BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 206, unknown
author, 8 November 1929, for a summary of his pre-Ford career. For Dollfus as director
of Hispano-Suiza, see Manuel Lage, Hispano-Suiza in Aeronautics (Warrendale, 2004), 82.
6
Business historians have made much of the baronial nature of Ford’s corporate structure in
the inter-war years, frequently contrasting it with the more ‘modern’ management practi-
ces of General Motors under the aegis of Alfred Sloan Jr. There existed no separate
European division within the Ford organization. Wilkins and Hill have portrayed the
French operations as governed closely from Dearborn. Nevins and Hill on the other
hand remark that ‘[t]he French, German, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, Belgian and other
concerns operated with little regard for each other, and the oversight exercised by
Dearborn through traveling auditors and district supervisors, occasional roving agents,
and intermittent flow of letters and cables, lacked consistency and force’. Steven Tolliday
has advocated a middle ground, suggesting that while Ford Dearborn tried to maintain
central control over the European operations with some success in the 1920s, this effort
failed in the 1930s. See Douglas Brinkley, Wheels for the World: Henry Ford, his Company
and a Century of Progress 1903–2003 (New York, 2004), 338, 344, for the contrast with Opel
(GM); Wilkins and Hill, American Business Abroad, 99–100; Allan Nevins and
 Ford SAF: 1929–1940 23

to appease Ford Dearborn, to free Ford SAF from Perry’s oversight, and
to fend off the political threats of competitors such as Renault, Citroën
and Peugeot. It was Dollfus who proclaimed loudly, if disingenuously,
that Ford SAF was French. It was Dollfus who engaged with the efforts of
French producers to cripple Ford SAF through the imposition of higher
tariffs. It was Dollfus who won approval from Ford Dearborn to build
Poissy. His political adeptness would serve him well after the Fall of France
in 1940 when he gravitated seamlessly toward Vichy and the Germans.
Dollfus could not have managed without the support of the Fords, Henry
and Edsel. Ford was still dominated by Henry Ford when the Depression
struck but age and ill health were eroding his capacity to control his empire.
Edsel Ford made most decisions concerning Europe. Edsel Ford sanc-
tioned the construction of Poissy as well as approving the steady shift of
the company into war matériel that began in the late 1930s. Until his
premature death in 1943, Edsel backed Dollfus. In this view, Charles
Sorensen, the other senior Ford Dearborn executive concerned with
Europe in these years, joined him. Sorensen was a hard-driving executive
whose relationship with Dollfus evolved. Supportive of Dollfus initially, by
1940 Sorensen privately thought that Dollfus was a liability.7 Nevertheless,
Sorensen followed where the Fords led.8
The ambitions of Dollfus and the rearmament undertaken by the
French government in the late 1930s transformed Ford SAF. By
September 1939, less than a year after construction on Poissy was begun
and well before it was complete, Ford SAF was no longer a car company.
It made aviation engines, trucks and aircraft cannon, while simultane-
ously building Poissy. But the rapidity of the change was beyond Dollfus
and Ford SAF. Dollfus was prone to optimistic, even fanciful notions of
Ford SAF’s capabilities, a tendency that became more marked after 1938.
He overextended Ford SAF. The construction of Poissy and the stark
failure of the company in 1939–40 to fulfil the contracts placed with it by
the French government demonstrated the limitations of Ford SAF. The
transition from being an automobile manufacturer to a firm manufactur-
ing an array of products for the state was too compressed. As the months
of the Phony War demonstrated, Ford SAF only fitfully supplied what
it had contracted. Ford SAF neither managed to finish Poissy nor

Frank Ernest Hill, Ford, 3 vols. (New York, 1963), III, 269; and Steven Tolliday, ‘The
Origins of Ford of Europe: From Multidomestic to Transnational Corporation, 1903–
1976’ in Bonin, Lung and Tolliday, eds., Ford 1903–2003, I, 153–60.
7
See his remark, quoted in Wilkins and Hill, American Business Abroad, 318, ‘Better if
Dollfus had gone’ on a letter from a discharged employee of Ford SAF.
8
Brinkley has remarked: ‘it is important to keep in mind that Sorensen’s long career was
built on the fact that he never did anything that Henry Ford didn’t want done’. Wheels for
the World, 345.
24 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

had it furnished sorely needed equipment to the French military.

Understanding how and why this occurred between 1929 and 1940 is
the aim of this chapter.

Ford SAF and the Depression, 1929–1938

The French automobile industry suffered badly in the decade of the
1930s. Though the Depression was late arriving in France, not gripping
the country until 1931–2, an overvalued currency hamstrung an economy
behind its European rivals throughout the 1930s.9 Throughout the dec-
ade, the French economy struggled, mired in unemployment and weak
demand. The fortunes of the French automobile industry tracked these
developments, as it was a sector that relied upon the domestic market for
its prosperity. Outside of the French Empire, export markets were limited
for French manufacturers. It had not always been so, for in 1914 the
industry was the second largest producer in the world behind the United
States, with exports prominent. World War I closed the export market
while reordering the industry towards the production of war matériel. The
1920s were marked by recovery from the war and a steady growth in
production. As late as 1929, the French automobile industry retained its
position as the second largest producer in the world. However, in the
1930s matters changed rapidly. The French market shrank – industry
production in 1929 was 253,000 cars, tumbling to a low of 163,000 in
1932, before recovering to 224,000 in the last full peace-time year, 1938.
Compounding these difficulties, the sector faced more competition within
Europe. Growing output in the UK and in Germany meant that by 1939
France had slipped to third in automobile production in Europe behind
these two and was fifth in the global table.10
The travails of the 1930s struck French manufacturers hard. Though
Renault, Citroën and Peugeot had emerged as the French Big Three in
the 1920s with a combined market share of nearly 75 per cent in 1929,
there existed far more companies in the sector.11 Of the ninety firms
making automobiles in the French industry in 1929, the great majority
were small producers. Catering to niche markets, these firms found the
bracing conditions of the 1930s extraordinarily difficult. Some, such as

9
On the performance of the inter-war French economy, see Alfred Sauvy, Histoire
économique de la France entre les deux guerres, 3 vols. (Paris, 1966–75); Tom Kemp, The
French Economy 1913–39: The History of a Decline (London, 1972); Margairaz, L’État, les
finances et l’économie.
10
See James M. Laux, In First Gear: The French Automobile Industry to 1914 (Montreal,
1976); and Jean-Louis Loubet, Histoire de l’automobile française (Paris, 2001), 138.
11
Loubet, Histoire de l’automobile française, Table, 138.
 Ford SAF and the Depression, 1929–1938 25

Berliet, abandoned the car market. Many failed. Their numbers fell from
ninety in 1929 to twenty-eight in 1939.12 The combination of technological
backwardness, a shrinking domestic market, financial weakness, labour
strife, indifferent management and low productivity plagued an industry
that had too many companies.13 The Depression pruned the French
automobile sector but it was an unplanned, haphazard restructuring.
Even so, there remained too many companies in 1939 for the size of the
French market. During the Occupation years, an appreciation that the
ravages of the 1930s had not gone far enough in rationalizing and con-
solidating the industry animated both industry leaders and Vichy. The key
differentiation was that men such as Lehideux believed that rationaliza-
tion should be planned rather than left to the vagaries of the market.
Patrick Fridenson has commented that the outcome of the Depression
was to make the state a partner with the car companies.14 Certainly,
government support and government contracts were increasingly impor-
tant for the sector through the decade. This was not the case for Ford
SAF. Until the rearmament boom of the late 1930s Ford SAF was not
treated on the same footing by French governments as domestic firms.
Ford SAF was not deemed to be a French firm, but instead an American
subsidiary and thus not eligible for government orders. Ford SAF had
been established in 1929 as a consequence of an overhaul of Ford’s
European subsidiaries under the Perry Plan, drafted by Percival Perry.15
One of the driving forces in the Perry Plan was a recognition that Ford’s
European subsidiaries needed to be more responsive to national imper-
atives. A second, at odds with this notion, was simultaneously yoking
them to a new manufacturing plant at Dagenham in Britain. Shares in
the European subsidiaries would be sold to the respective publics in each
country where Ford operated, while Dagenham’s production would sup-
ply manufactured vehicles as well as parts for the European subsidiaries
which were intended to be assembly plant operations. In keeping with this
scheme, shares were sold in the new Ford SAF while control remained

12
There is some dispute regarding how many makers remained in business in 1939.
Patrick Fridenson, Histoire des usines Renault (Paris, 1972), 196, and Sylvie van de
Casteele-Schweitzer, ‘Management and Labour in France 1914–39’, in Tolliday and
Zeitlin, eds., The Automobile Industry and its Workers, 66, put the number at 28 rather
than Loubet’s 31.
13
Yves Cohen, ‘The Modernization of Production in the French Automobile Industry
between the Wars: A Photographic Essay’, Business History Review, 65 (1991), 754–80.
14
Jean-Pierre Bardou et al., The Automobile Revolution: The Impact of an Industry (Chapel
Hill, 1982), 142.
15
For Ford in France before 1929 see Nevins and Hill, Ford; Wilkins and Hill, American
Business Abroad; and the relevant essays in the Bonin, Lung and Tolliday collection, Ford,
1903–2003.
26 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

firmly in the hands of Dearborn. At the first annual general meeting of

Ford SAF on 3 May 1930 Dollfus, soon to become managing director,
declared that the share offering to French citizens made by Ford SAF
had received more than 82,000 applicants, proof of the firm’s French
character.16
This gloss did not disguise the reality that Ford Dearborn retained
control. Neither French governments nor Ford SAF’s French compet-
itors were convinced. They continued to view Ford SAF as an American
firm, with good reason. Evidently, Ford SAF was distinct from its French
rivals. The Ford name, Ford financial support and Ford marketing and
engineering expertise all distinguished Ford SAF. There is little doubt
that these assisted Ford SAF materially. Dollfus told the May 1930 gen-
eral meeting that the company did not have to bear the costs for labs, or
manufacturing methods or technical studies, for all of this was undertaken
by Ford Dearborn. As he remarked:
We are completely free from all such worries, which are usually such a heavy strain
on other Manufacturers and the advantages gained, which fortunately are inherent
to our Company, will, we are certain, enable us to continue the assembly of Ford
cars by means of spare parts bought in France in larger quantities daily, with more
and more satisfactory results.17
Such optimism, if typical of Dollfus, was misplaced. The immediate
problem facing Ford SAF was tariffs. Tariffs on imported automobiles
and automobile components were in place in France throughout the
1920s. Ford SAF was vulnerable to higher tariffs given its dependence
upon imports. The April 1930 French tariff law moved the average duty
on finished automobiles and automobile components from 45 per cent to
60 per cent, responding in part to the complaints of Renault, Peugeot and
Citroën regarding unfair competition.18 The politics of protection drew
upon the growth of anti-Americanism in France.19 The warmth of 1918,
when Franco-American relations were bathed in the rays of victory, had
long since faded. Woodrow Wilson, the wartime American president and
a man who arrived in France to a rapturous reception, was vilified after

16
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 206, 3 May 1930, speech by Maurice Dollfus to Ford SAF
AGM.
17
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 206, 3 May 1930, speech by Dollfus to Ford SAF AGM.
18
‘French Tariff Bill Drastic in Content’, Automotive Industries, 62 (19 April 1930), 633.
Jean-Louis Loubet and Nicolas Hatzfeld, ‘Ford in France, 1916–1952’, in Bonin, Lung
and Tolliday, eds., Ford 1903–2003, II, 327, put the tariff at much higher levels – 70 per
cent ad valorem and 90–150 per cent on parts.
19
On anti-Americanism in France, see David Strauss, Menace in the West: The Rise of French
Anti-Americanism (Westport, 1978), and Philippe Roger, The American Enemy: The
History of French Anti-Americanism (Chicago, 2005). On Roger, see below.
 Ford SAF and the Depression, 1929–1938 27

1919 in France. French disappointment with Wilson, with the refusal of

the American Senate to ratify the Treaty of Versailles, was enhanced by the
poisonous exchanges over war debts and reparation that dominated inter-
national relations. In the 1920s and early 1930s, these issues contaminated
Franco-American relations. Philippe Roger’s recent study documents an
anti-Americanism that blossomed not only from disenchantment with the
peace, but was also driven by intellectuals – novelists, commentators,
essayists – who feared the decline of France, were mortified by what
they saw as the crassness of American culture and society, by its dehu-
manizing tendencies, and who voiced their distaste in a series of works.
The apex of this movement was reached between 1927 and 1932.
Intellectual discourse not only popularized a powerful strain of anti-
American sentiment, it also served two other functions. It provided a
veneer of intellectualism for political anti-Americanism, and it fortified
the economic anti-Americanism that was articulated commonly. Anti-
Americanism appealed to wide swathes of French opinion, making it
simpler for André Tardieu’s government, frustrated with the toxic war
debt and reparation issues, to proceed with targeted tariff rises. Perhaps
this helps to explain why when the April 1930 tariff was passed the vote
was 175 to 2 in the French Chamber of Deputies.20 Tardieu himself,
originally enchanted by the vision of American modernity represented by
F. W. Taylor and Henry Ford, was by 1934 an apostle who had lost faith in
American capitalism.21
Intertwined with French anti-Americanism was the complex atti-
tude apparent among French automobile producers toward Ford.
Mechanization, the assembly-line, automation and the triumph of tech-
nology at the expense of humanity were linked indissolubly with Ford.
Citroën, Renault and Peugeot exhibited varying degrees of respect, envy,
hostility and fear vis-à-vis Ford.22 André Citroën was the greatest admirer
of Ford in French automobile circles, patterning his plants, machinery,
marketing and car models on Ford’s example. As Sylvie Schweitzer has
put it: ‘André Citroën though, purchased, and dreamt American. His
model was across the Atlantic in the figure of Henry Ford.’23 Peugeot
never worshipped Ford as assiduously as did André Citroën. Nevertheless
if Peugeot resisted Fordian notions of a single model like the Model T, its

20
‘French Tariff Bill Drastic in Content’, 633.
21
Gareth Davies, ‘André Tardieu, les Modérés and the Politics of Prosperity: 1929–1932’,
Histoire@Politique. Politique, culture, société, 16 (2012), www.histoire-politique.fr.
22
Patrick Fridenson, ‘Ford as a Model for French Car Makers, 1911–1939’, in Bonin, Lang
and Tolliday, eds., Ford, 1903–2003, II, 125–52.
23
Sylvie Schweitzer, Des engrenages à la chaîne: les usines Citroën, 1915–1935 (Lyon,
1982), 12.
28 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

leadership embraced the necessity of greater flexibility, modernization

and productivity that accompanied a shift towards more automated
assembly-line manufacture. In the mid- to late 1920s, Peugeot moved
its operations at Sochaux steadily in the direction of recognizably Ford
practices. Peugeot, however, was hit hard by the Bank Oustric affair.
Unwisely, its directors had entangled its finances with Bank Oustric, a
development that meant that when the latter collapsed in 1930, the
directors of Peugeot were more preoccupied with financial survival rather
than with fearing Ford.
Of the French Big Three, it was Louis Renault’s attitude that was the
most nuanced regarding Ford. Renault admired Henry Ford and the Ford
achievement.24 Renault’s Ile de Seguin project built in the late 1920s
represented a conscious effort to mimic the efficiencies represented by
the Ford works at the River Rouge.25 Renault’s respect for Ford did not
prevent him from evincing marked opinions regarding the United States
and American economic competition. Renault believed that the United
States was the real danger to the French economy. As early as 1924,
Renault argued for a ‘Buy French’ campaign that was aimed squarely at
American competition. While this call fell on deaf ears, Renault continued
to urge French politicians to shelter the French automobile industry –
writing to Raymond Poincaré in December 1928 along these lines and
then to President Paul Doumer the same month. A network of politicians
amenable to these ideas existed in the Senate and National Assembly.
Renault’s lobbying paid dividends as his influence with Flandin was
reflected in the April 1930 tariff increases. Renault expressed his pleasure
in a letter to Léon Bailby of the newspaper L’Intransigeant on 18 April
1930. He told Bailby that while the final duty had been whittled down as a
result of American pressure, the passage of the duty was a victory not just
for the French auto industry, but for French industry more generally. If
duties were not passed then all of French industry would be in danger of
being ‘completely submerged’ by US competition.26
Renault, Peugeot and Citroën were members of the Chambre syndicale
des constructeurs d’automobiles (CSCA), the French automobile manu-
facturer’s association. The CSCA was one of the instruments through
which domestic producers sought to influence government, lobbying
consistently for tariff protection. The head of the CSCA was Baron

24
The authoritative study of Renault as a company in the inter-war years remains
Fridenson, Histoire des usines Renault. As might be expected there are many biographies.
Among the recent are: Chadeau, Louis Renault, which focuses on Renault and the Second
World War; Dingli, Louis Renault; and Jean-Noël Mouret, Louis Renault (Paris, 2009).
25
Mouret, Louis Renault, 228–30. 26 Dingli, Louis Renault, 151–60.
 Ford SAF and the Depression, 1929–1938 29

Charles Petiet, who was especially close with Louis Renault. Dollfus
identified Petiet as our ‘worst’ enemy.27 Petiet blocked repeated efforts
by Ford to become a member of the CSCA. Acceptance into the CSCA
would permit Ford SAF to define itself as indisputably French, thus
lessening the punitive effects of measures addressed specifically at foreign
automobile producers. Exclusion from the CSCA was galling for Ford. It
was all the more painful because the CSCA changed its mind about the
Italian firm SIMCA, a subsidiary of FIAT. SIMCA was a more serious
concern for French carmakers by 1934 than Ford. SIMCA offered an
attractive line of small four cylinder cars that were growing in popularity in
the French market. The tariff increases and import quota adjustments
advocated by the CSCA in 1932–3 were aimed primarily at heading off the
imminent threat posed by SIMCA rather than by Ford SAF. The French
Big Three launched a ‘violent campaign’ to stop SIMCA from introduc-
ing its small four cylinder car in France.28 Yet in 1936, SIMCA was made
a full member of the CSCA whereas Ford remained excluded. Jean-Louis
Loubet has concluded that this outcome was because SIMCA played the
nationalist card far more effectively than Ford SAF did. SIMCA built its
cars at a manufacturing plant in France, using 100 per cent French parts,
relying upon French banks for their financing, and with virtual autonomy
from FIAT in Turin. The consequence was that SIMCA was able to
portray itself as French more plausibly than Ford SAF.29 Ford SAF’s
failure to solidify its identity as French was thus not due solely to the
machinations of the CSCA.
With the tariff battles raging from 1930, the combination of increased
costs and the darkening economic situation was reflected in worsening
results for Ford SAF. In 1929 and 1930, the company had posted robust
profits, but the 1931 profit was less than half of that of 1930, while the
results in 1932 swung to a loss of more than 6 million francs. The year
1933 was far worse, as sales declined and losses soared.30 In these circum-
stances, Perry undertook an extended analysis of Ford SAF at the urging
of Edsel Ford in the autumn of 1933. The results made for grim reading.
The reports, filed by Perry and his lieutenants, documented a company
that suffered from weak management compounded by graft, bloated
inventories, exceptionally high advertising costs and burdened with an
over-manned assembly plant at Asnières. Each of these weaknesses were
being addressed, with management personnel changed, Dollfus attempt-
ing to eradicate corruption in the purchasing department root and branch,

27
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 230, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 2 April 1936.
28
Fridenson, Histoire des usines Renault, 200.
29
Loubet, Histoire de l’automobile française, 169. 30 See Appendix A.
30 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

and advertising costs being reined in while labour reductions were

made selectively. Above all, though, ‘the incidence of taxation and the
extreme trade depression’ were hammering Ford SAF. The trend was
disheartening – to preserve market share Ford SAF had been selling cars
at a loss, incurring heavy commercial expenses necessary to keep the
dealer network content. As Perry remarked, ‘[t]hat the French organiza-
tion is held together and sales effected at all is really a wonder’.31 The
question was, what could be done to correct this situation?
One possibility was building a manufacturing plant in France, a solution
championed by Dollfus. This would have the virtue of cementing Ford
SAF’s claim to being French while at the same time offering a means of
escaping from the burden imposed by tariffs. The inspiration was Ford’s
German subsidiary, Ford-Werke, that had constructed a new plant at
Cologne that opened in 1931. The idea of a French plant had been floated
at the November 1930 meeting of the Ford SAF board, undoubtedly
instigated by the laying of the cornerstone for the Cologne factory by
Henry Ford in October 1930. Perry and Dollfus were appointed to the
committee charged with ascertaining whether a new plant on the Seine
could be built that was capable of producing 30,000 cars per year.32 Given
that Ford SAF’s sales in the early 1930s were approximately 3,000 a year,
this was a starry-eyed figure.33 Perry’s presence on the committee meant a
staunch opponent to the notion existed, for his opposition was a given.34
Perry undoubtedly feared for the viability of Dagenham if a new French
manufacturing plant joined Cologne.35 With this path blocked, Dollfus
offered two other suggestions. The first was to circumvent the tariff by
manufacturing more in France, particularly motor and chassis compo-
nents.36 The trouble was that this had been an objective for Ford
SAF since the opening of Asnières in 1925, with only limited results to
show. Ford SAF lacked the engineering expertise, the machine tools and
the management wherewithal to make serious inroads into the problem.

31
The series of reports on Ford SAF, dated 10 October 1933, 18 October 1933 and
20 October 1933, are all in BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 217. Perry wrote to Edsel Ford
on 10 October, the 18 October memorandum is by F. S. Thornhill Cooper of Ford Motor
Co. Ltd UK and the 20 October letter on Ford SAF is from H. S. Cooper to Edsel Ford.
32
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 206, ‘Minutes of the Board of Directors of Ford SAF,
14 November 1930’.
33
Tolliday, ‘The Origins of Ford of Europe’, I, 163.
34
Wilkins and Hill, American Business Abroad, 248.
35
By 1932, speculation was appearing that Dagenham would never be able to fulfil its
planned role if the continental European companies built manufacturing plants. See
R. J. Politzer, ‘Double or Lose Seen as Ford’s Answer in Europe’, Automotive Industries,
66 (30 January 1932), 145–8.
36
BFRC, FMC, ACC 38, Box 6, Dollfus to Sorensen, 20 May 1931.
 Ford SAF and the Depression, 1929–1938 31

These weaknesses plagued Ford SAF throughout the 1930s and war
years.
The second suggestion was to push for an expansion of the Ford SAF
markets to include the French Empire. Dollfus argued that Ford SAF,
given the French tariff wall, could more cheaply serve these areas than
Ford Dearborn. He returned to this issue in 1934, urging Sorensen to
reshuffle supply arrangements to Indochina and Madagascar with Ford
SAF filling the needs of these markets rather than Ford Dearborn or Ford
Canada. The sensitivity of the suggestion was borne out in an exchange
between Perry and Dollfus in 1935 over the disposition of African mar-
kets, with Dollfus once more attempting to expand Ford SAF’s remit and
Perry balking on the grounds that Dollfus was pursuing an independent
course. Sorensen and Edsel Ford were both consulted but Perry pre-
vailed.37 During the Occupation, Dollfus would return to the idea of an
African venture. For the moment, he was unsuccessful. To be sure,
Perry’s counsel for Ford SAF – to hang on, absorb losses and wait for
better times – was not appealing as losses mounted in late 1933.
A third idea, merger with another struggling car company, Mathis,
offered a way out. Dollfus, accompanied by Émile Mathis, visited the
United States in late November 1933. Meeting with Edsel Ford and
Sorensen, the conception of joining with Mathis was advanced. Mathis
needed cash for his operations at Strasbourg. Edsel Ford and Sorensen
were persuaded and their agreement overruled Perry who doubted the
wisdom of the idea.38 The merger, consummated on 27 September 1934,
was as much a tactical ploy as it was a desire to obtain the Mathis line of
cars. At the extraordinary general meeting of shareholders of Ford SAF
held on 30 July 1934 to sanction the agreement, the motives were dis-
closed frankly: to circumvent customs troubles, to extinguish worries
about quota limitations or increased tariffs and to diminish the threat
from currency fluctuations. Costs, Dollfus promised, would drop, and
Ford would be ‘definitely imprinting our products with a French stamp
due to their complete construction in France’.39
The newly merged entity was christened Matford SA. Matford owned
the Strasbourg plant as well as Asnières. Ford SAF continued as a holding

37
BFRC, FMC, ACC 38, Box 6, Dollfus to Perry, 22 May 1931; BFRC, FMC, ACC 38,
Box 27, Dollfus to Sorensen, 3 December 1934; for the 1935 episode, see BFRC, FMC,
ACC 38, Box 27, Perry to Dollfus, 5 June 1935, Dollfus to Perry, 24 June 1935, Dollfus to
Sorensen, 24 June 1935.
38
Accounts of the merger include Wilkins and Hill, American Business Abroad, 248–50, and
Nevins and Hill, Ford, III, 299–300.
39
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 223, Report of the Board of Directors of the Extraordinary
General Meeting of Shareholders, 30 July 1934.
32 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

company that owned the controlling interest in Matford. A reshuffling of

Ford SAF’s corporate structure was required. This process saw the sale of
Ford Motor Ltd UK’s interest in Ford SAF to Ford Dearborn, ending
Perry’s oversight of Dollfus. Going forward, Ford SAF was now con-
trolled by a combination of Ford Dearborn, a Luxembourg-based holding
company, and French shareholders, with Dearborn having the dominant
say. While the agreement called for Ford SAF to own 60 per cent of
Matford with Mathis retaining 40 per cent, this soon fell by the wayside
as Mathis failed to contribute the capital that was required. By 1936,
Dollfus reckoned that Ford SAF controlled 77 per cent of Matford’s
capital.40
Integrating the Mathis cars into the Ford SAF offerings proved trouble-
some. From 1932, when Henry Ford introduced the Ford V8 in the
United States, Dollfus and Ford SAF had no choice but to adopt the
V8. Ford SAF did not have the capacity to build its own engines. Adopting
the V8 was made easier by the relatively lighter burden imposed by French
tariffs on a V8-powered car.41 It was not a choice without perils. The
market for V8 automobiles in France was small. Throughout the 1930s,
the characteristics of the French automobile market skewed progressively
in favour of smaller, lighter, cheaper, more fuel-efficient cars. French
consumers, strapped by the Depression, wanted these cars. Ford SAF
was swimming against this tide. As Dollfus pointed out repeatedly, Ford
SAF dominated the V8 market in France, but it was a hollow triumph, for
doing so constrained Ford’s ability to compete in the broader French
automobile market. Paradoxically, after 1938 Ford’s V8 dependence did
offer the company hope, for the V8 could, and did, power trucks, much in
demand by the French military as rearmament gathered pace. After the
Fall of France in 1940, the Wehrmacht too coveted Ford V8-powered
trucks. For the moment though, this silver lining was hidden and Mathis
did have a four-cylinder car.
Regrettably, the Mathis plant in Strasbourg required significant
changes if it was to produce modern vehicles. The head of the team of
American engineers sent to Strasbourg in 1934 to overhaul the plant,
L. W. Mix, wrote to Sorensen in December 1934 that he ‘[h]ad to
change many operations to get quality and cut the cost in most glaring
cases. Still very bad and we could work along that line for a year.’ Mix
added in a subsequent letter that there was a pressing shortage of ‘good
tool designers or tool makers’. Mathis was a microcosm of the virtues

40
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 230, ‘Position of Ford S.A.F. as of 20th July [1936]’.
41
Jean-Louis Loubet and Nicholas Hatzfeld, Les 7 vies de Poissy: un aventure industrielle
(Paris, 2001), 30, make this point.
 Ford SAF and the Depression, 1929–1938 33

and flaws of the French automobile industry as a whole. The company

was capable of and had produced in the 1920s attractive vehicles for
the French market. But it was small, cash strapped, with a plant and
equipment that was outdated. These were shared weaknesses with Ford
SAF – acquiring Mathis had not rectified Ford SAF’s lack of modern
engineering expertise and machine tools. Dollfus, perhaps because he
had spearheaded the Mathis merger, downplayed these concerns, telling
Sorensen that Mix did not understand matters wholly.42 Nonetheless,
Dollfus was forced in February 1935 to admit to Edsel Ford that the
Mathis four cylinder was obsolete and that it needed a new engine
immediately. He complained about the lack of cooperation from
Mathis and his unwillingness to assist in new designs for the chassis and
motor of an updated four cylinder. Later that year, the decision was made
to sell spare parts for existing Mathis cars but not to produce any new
Mathis cars. This decision left Ford SAF producing only V8-powered
cars under the Matford name.
The Matford merger, politically motivated as much as it was by eco-
nomic considerations, reflected the continuing travails of the French
automobile industry. The most spectacular manifestation of the latter in
the 1930s was the collapse of Citroën in 1934–5. For Ford SAF, Citroën’s
troubles produced opportunity. In dire straits, André Citroën approached
Dollfus in January 1935 asking him to consider investing 100 million
francs in Citroën in collaboration with Michelin. Dollfus was opposed
to these feelers and counselled Dearborn to reject the idea. This advice
was heeded and in February 1935 Dollfus informed Citroën that Ford was
not interested. His misgivings about a partnership with Michelin were
critical in this choice. Dollfus doubted Michelin’s management and in
particular their ability to run a car company. He reckoned that under
Michelin stewardship Citroën would struggle, thus opening the door for
competitors such as Ford SAF. Certainly, Dollfus moved quickly to
attempt to seduce Citroën dealers to carry the Ford V8 line with some
success.43 He may also have been buoyed by the improved results that
Ford SAF had posted in 1934. While sales had rebounded sluggishly from
the 1933 depths, the rigorous cost-cutting programme that Dollfus had
implemented at the urging of Perry and Edsel Ford had borne fruit, with

42
These letters may be followed in BFRC, FMC, ACC 38, Box 22, L. W. Mix to Sorensen,
30 November 1934, Mix to Sorensen, 7 December 1934. BFRC, FMC, ACC 38, Box 27,
Dollfus to Sorensen, 2 January 1935.
43
For Dollfus’ dismissive view of Michelin and his effort to recruit Citroën dealers, see
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 223, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 14 February 1935.
34 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

the consequence that 1934 saw a profit posted.44 Matford undoubtedly

was also a factor, for Dollfus was preoccupied with ensuring that the
merger went smoothly and the Citroën bankruptcy had in this sense
come at a bad time. As for Citroën, it was too important to the French
government to founder and while André Citroén lost control of his
company, its subsequent recovery and restructuring under Michelin
aegis drove home this point. In retrospect, the decision to rebuff André
Citroën meant that Ford had foregone a chance to vault itself into the
front ranks of French producers. It was not until the Occupation that Ford
SAF managed to take a place in the front row with the French Big Three.
Citroën’s difficulties did not deter the CSCA from continuing to press
the attack against Ford and may have added credence to their complaints
about unfair foreign competition. In December 1934, Dollfus informed
Dearborn that an inquiry from the Ministry of War had been received
asking if Matford was French as only French companies were allowed to
bid for their contracts. This was, as Dollfus put it, a threat. The restructur-
ing of the board of Ford SAF, recommended by Dollfus in November 1934
that reduced the number of directors to five, removed Perry as chair, and
ensured that the majority of directors were French as well as putting in place
a French chair (M. Charpentier), was aimed at bolstering the French
credentials of the company.45 Though Dollfus signalled that these changes
were welcome in France as evidenced by the opening of negotiations with
the Ministry of War and the receipt of orders from the Compagnie General
Transatlantique, he admitted that ‘we have been attack [sic] from every
possible angle’.46 The CSCA was not convinced. As Mathis observed,
maliciously, to Edsel Ford in June 1935 the CSCA believed Matford was
not a French concern.47 A determined attempt by the CSCA in September
1935 to exclude Matford from the Paris Auto Salon on the grounds that it
was not a French company followed. The danger that this posed was real,
for if the CSCA prevailed, then Matford would be shut out of bidding for
government contracts and would not receive government subsidies
designed to promote the export trade. Dollfus recognized the danger. He
lobbied the minister of commerce, Georges Bonnet. Bonnet sided with

44
BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, undated but 1946, Table from FMC, ‘Manuf & Assembly,
Poissy 1945–1946, France Analysis of Ford Investment, Sales, Costs, Profits, etc, ’46’.
Costs fell more than 7 million francs from 1933 to 1934, while commercial expenses
tumbled by more than 5 million francs. See Appendix A.
45
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 226, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 15 November 1934; BFRC,
FMC, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, ACC 6, Box 226, 10 December 1934. In this letter, Dollfus
enclosed the inquiry from the Ministry of War of 7 December 1934. His reply of
12 December 1934 is also here.
46
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 223, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 14 February 1935.
47
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 226, Mathis to Edsel Ford, 29 June 1935.
 Ford SAF and the Depression, 1929–1938 35

Dollfus against the CSCA, permitting Matford to exhibit at Paris and

ensuring that it qualified for the export subsidy.48 Bonnet may have been
swayed by assurances that Matford was endeavouring to become French
wholly. Though this attack had been thwarted, it alarmed Ford Dearborn
sufficiently to ask Dollfus to send an appreciation of Ford SAF’s relation-
ship with the government and with the CSCA.
Dollfus replied to Edsel Ford in April 1936 with a lengthy assessment.
He was sanguine about Ford’s standing with the government, labelling
relations ‘very good’ not just with the Ministry of Commerce but also with
the Ministry of Finance. But until all of Ford’s products were 100 per cent
French, it was not possible to bid for government contracts. Dollfus had
reason to be optimistic on this score, for Bonnet’s recent intervention had
extended to granting Ford additional quota room to import parts from the
United States. As for competitors in France, Dollfus was careful to
delineate friends and foes. In the former category were the national
federations of parts suppliers and the national dealers federation, both of
which were amicable. The CSCA was hostile, dominated as it was by the
French Big Three, who in Dollfus’ view were frightened by competition
from outside. Mathis was, at least partially, to blame, for he had surren-
dered his CSCA membership without consulting Dollfus a year earlier,
thus making it simpler for the CSCA to marginalize Ford SAF. Even on
this count, however, Dollfus offered a nuanced explanation of the attitude
of the key member of the CSCA – Renault. He told Edsel Ford that at
lunch recently with Renault and his assistant, René de Peyrecave, the two
men confessed that they were upset principally at the prospect of the
arrival of General Motors in the French market. Dollfus remarked that
Renault and Peyrecave saw Ford as a ‘necessary evil’ and that Ford’s
relationship with Renault was ‘good’ while at the personal level his own
rapport with Renault was ‘very good’.49 Some of this was wishful thinking.
Renault could afford to regard Ford SAF as a ‘necessary evil’ partly
because the Ford share of the French market was quite small – Dollfus
placed it at about 8 per cent of French production. Ford was struggling in
the American market and was not quite the terror that it had been.
General Motors was a behemoth, whose inroads into the German market
through Opel were apparent. Renault and Peyrecave may have been aware
that in 1934 André Citroën, struggling to save his company, had through

48
For the CSCA attack on Matford and Dollfus’ successful counter-attack, see BFRC,
FMC, ACC 6, Box 226, Dollfus to Sorensen, 10 September 1935 and Dollfus to
Sorensen, 2 October 1935.
49
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 230, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 2 April 1936. During the
Occupation, René de Peyrecave effectively ran Renault due to the mental and physical
decline of Louis Renault.
36 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

the intermediary of Morgan & Cie, the Paris-based arm of J. P. Morgan &
Co., discussed with Alfred Sloan Jr of General Motors the possibility of
the latter taking a stake in Citroën.50 While this never materialized, the
prospect alone was enough to incite alarm.
Whether Dollfus’ optimism about Ford’s relationships were justified,
fears that the CSCA might succeed in shutting Ford SAF out of the
French market were lessened by three factors: a thaw in Franco-American
relations, primarily economic and financial, between 1934 and 1936; grow-
ing unease at the worsening of the French position in Europe; and finally
the election of the Popular Front in 1936 that plunged France into months
of domestic turmoil, marked by acute labour strife and capital flight.
For Dollfus and Ford SAF, these developments were a boon. The
effects of the lessening of Franco-American trade enmity were intangible
though the case for the imposition of even more restrictive tariffs and
quotas was forestalled, undercutting the CSCA’s efforts to marginalize
Ford SAF. Strikingly, after 1935 tariffs as a regular topic of Dollfus’
missives to Dearborn disappear. As for the Rhineland crisis in March
1936, it had made it apparent that the Strasbourg plant was vulnerable. A
panicked American workforce had asked Dollfus if they could evacuate
when it seemed as if war was in the offing. While Dollfus was willing to
entertain the idea, Sorensen was not. Brusquely, he indicated that there
was no need for emergency measures.51 The point that Strasbourg was
uncomfortably close to the Franco-German border, and thus was likely to
be in the zone of military operations should there be a war, was made.
Indirectly, the Rhineland crisis boosted the notion of a new manufactur-
ing plant in France for Ford SAF. As for rearmament, the announced
expenditures promised significant government contracts in the future and
the necessity of utilizing the entirety of the French industrial base, includ-
ing Ford SAF, in meeting these needs. For the moment, though, the
stumbling block remained familiar – was Ford SAF a French company?
The labour strife of 1936 had, conversely, less of an impact on Ford SAF
save in one key respect – buttressing Dollfus’ conviction that Ford’s future
was bright. Beginning in May 1936, strikes at aviation factories in northern
France blossomed into a broader, more systematic wave of labour disrup-
tions. Collectively, the strikes paralysed the French industrial sector. Faced
with unrest on a scale never before seen, industry moved rapidly to meet

50
Pierpont Morgan Library, Morgan Bank’s European Papers, Box 17, J. P. Morgan & Co.
to Morgan & Cie, 9 March 1934, Morgan & Cie to J. P. Morgan & Co., 10 March 1934.
The talks continued fitfully into December 1934.
51
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 230, Dollfus to Sorensen, 10 March 1936, Sorensen to
Dollfus, 11 March 1936.
 Ford SAF and the Depression, 1929–1938 37

the demands of labour. The Matignon Accords, negotiated and signed in

one day, 7 June 1936, offered significant concessions: pay rises, the intro-
duction of the forty-hour work week, paid holidays and the principle of
collective contracts were among the chief gains for organized labour.52 In
the automobile industry, Renault, Citroën and Peugeot were all hit, with
Renault, France’s largest employer, one of the nodes of greatest activity.
Louis Renault who ran his works with an ancien régime mentality, was
shocked at the scope of the unrest, as was his son-in-law, François
Lehideux, who did not hide his fear that revolution was imminent.53
Dollfus while agreeing that the ‘situation. . .is revolutionary’, had quite a
different reaction. In letters to Edsel Ford and Sorensen written in June
1936, he advanced a curious argument. While he admitted that he was
‘rather pessimistic about the general situation, I am rather optimistic about
ours’. Neither Asnières nor Strasbourg, the two Ford plants in France, had
experienced any significant time lost to strikes. This in Dollfus’ view was a
reflection of the greater labour tranquillity prevailing among the Ford
workforce, due in part to a more enlightened policy on wages. When
disruptions had occurred at the plants, it was because the workforce felt
compelled to demonstrate their bona fides to the wider labour movement,
lest they lose face. Linked to this was the assertion that while the Ford wage
bill would rise, it would rise much less than the mandated increases at
Ford’s competitors – Renault, Citroën and Peugeot – suggesting that real
cost advantages would accrue to Ford SAF. As evidence of these conten-
tions, Dollfus pointed to the much greater time lost due to strikes at the
French Big Three, noting that Ford sales were continuing to be strong.
There were weaknesses in this sanguine portrait: Mathis was an irritant;
Matford continued to lose money due largely to a hike in commissions paid
to dealers; and Dollfus did not see how prices could be raised to recoup
losses. As he told Edsel Ford, the losses would have to be borne and be
considered as a ‘capital investment’.54 Nonetheless, at the end of the year,
in November and December 1936, Dollfus returned to the theme that Ford
had benefited more from the changes under the Popular Front than its
competitors. In particular, the imposition of the forty-hour week had

52
For accounts of 1936, the strikes and the Matignon Accords, see Julian Jackson, The
Popular Front in France: Defending Democracy 1934–38 (Cambridge, 1990), 85–112. For
the response of business, see Richard Vinen, The Politics of French Business 1936–1945
(Cambridge, 1991), 26–44.
53
Bertrand Badie, ‘Les grèves du Front Populaire aux usines Renault’, Mouvement Social,
81 (1972), 95–9.
54
These views are laid out in three letters: BFRC, FMC, the letters to Sorensen are in ACC
38, Box 32, while the letter to Edsel Ford is in ACC 6, Box 23. Dollfus to Sorensen, 18
June 1936; Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 23 June 1936; and Dollfus to Sorensen, 25 June 1936.
38 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

improved Ford’s relative cost position, while sales continued to grow.55

Dollfus was guilty of seeing in his competitors’ temporary prostration a
permanent state of affairs. The French Big Three would recover and while
the lively demand for the V8s produced by Matford was welcome, the
structure of the French automobile market had not altered as a conse-
quence of the upheavals of 1936. The French increasingly preferred
smaller, cheaper cars that Ford’s competitors were able to produce.
Dollfus appreciated that while selling V8s was sensible given the tariff
burden Ford SAF faced, a small car was desirable. Strasbourg, retooled for
the V8, was not suitable. Dollfus, whose unhappiness with Mathis was
shared increasingly in Dearborn, was disinclined to renew the lease option
on Strasbourg that was coming due. These considerations, married with his
natural optimism, help us understand his renewed advocacy of building a
new manufacturing plant in France, a posture that at first blush seems
incongruous with his doubts about the French political and economic
scene under the Popular Front. Dollfus’ reading was girded by the profit
and sales figures for Ford SAF: when Dollfus was considering the future
course of Ford SAF the improved sales and profit figures in 1936 and 1937
were an incentive to embark on the course of what he had always wanted –
the construction of a modern manufacturing plant.56 The way was cleared
by the final breakdown of relations with Mathis. The latter was willing to
sell Strasbourg but the talks failed in 1937. For Ford, the utility of purchas-
ing Strasbourg was offset by the plant’s age. As Perry put it to Sorensen, ‘I
emphatically agree with your view that the money which Mathis asked for
his old plant could be very much better spent in buying new equipment.’57
Mathis was obstinate, a stance that suited Dollfus. Supported by Edsel
Ford and Sorensen, Dollfus declined to purchase the plant and served
notice in 1938 that Ford would abandon the lease in 1940.58

Rearmament, the coming of war and the remaking

of Ford SAF, 1938–1940
With Strasbourg’s future decided, constructing a manufacturing plant
became a necessity. Importing finished cars was impossible due to tariffs

55
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 230, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 25 November 1936; BFRC,
FMC, ACC 6, Box 234, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 5 December 1936, 10 December 1936,
and 18 December 1936.
56
See Appendix A.
57
BFRC, FMC, ACC 38, Box 82, Perry to Sorensen, 18 May 1937. More detail on the
negotiations is contained in BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 234.
58
Accounts are in Wilkins and Hill, American Business Abroad, 266–7, and Nevins and Hill,
Ford, III, 310–11.
 The remaking of Ford SAF, 1938–1940 39

and quotas. Asnières was not a candidate for conversion as it was aging
and was of limited size. Dollfus wanted a new manufacturing plant near
Paris. He found his site at Poissy on the River Seine. The decision to build
a new plant at Poissy, intertwined with the move of Europe towards war in
1938–9, had momentous consequences for Ford SAF. Ford SAF was
reconfigured by these twin developments. By September 1939, Ford SAF
was no longer a car company. It was a truck company, an armaments
company and an aircraft engine company. It was a company dependent
upon contracts from the French government. The long-running battle
over identity ended in 1938–9. With the awarding of substantial govern-
ment contracts in 1939, the question of whether the company was French
or not was buried, while those same contracts led Dollfus to anticipate
confidently a stream of future profits. In 1938–9 the chief matters of
contention were financing the Poissy plant and the advisability of accept-
ing government contracts. This led to a crisis in the autumn of 1939 when
raising Ford SAF’s capital to meet the costs incurred in the construction
of Poissy fomented a clash between Dollfus and Dearborn. The resolution
of this dispute favoured Dollfus, resulting in the peculiar position that
Ford SAF became an armaments producer contrary to Henry Ford’s
stance against his companies engaging in such work.
The principal developments in European international relations in
1938 are well known. French policy, fashioned principally by the premier,
Edouard Daladier, and his foreign minister, Georges Bonnet, was more
complex than has commonly been made out. Daladier was well aware of
the German threat, doubted rightly Hitler’s sincerity in his repeated
protestations that all he desired was to reunite Germans in a greater
Germany and sought to shift France towards a war footing. Bonnet was
less willing to run the risk of confrontation with Germany, fearing that a
war would redound only to the benefit of the Soviets.59 For the French
military, the situation in 1938 was mixed. While General Maurice
Gamelin, the chief of staff of the French army, had no intention of waging
a war over Czechoslovakia, he was not despairing of the army’s readiness
in the summer of 1938. Gamelin foresaw a war in which France and
Britain would triumph through the exercise of their matériel resources
in the shape of their respective empires, eventually grinding the Germans
down. Gamelin’s guarded perspective was not shared, however, by the
leadership of the French air force. Plan V, the ambitious effort to rebuild
the French air force that had been launched in March 1938 by Guy La
Chambre, the minister of air, was far from reaching its goals. General

59
On Daladier and Bonnet, see Robert Young, France and the Origins of the Second World
War (New York, 1996), 29–30, and Elisabeth du Réau, Edouard Daladier (Paris, 1993).
40 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

Joseph Vuillemin, appointed chief of staff of the air force by La Chambre

in February 1938, was markedly pessimistic in his assessment of the state
of French air power. Vuillemin made it clear to La Chambre and Daladier
throughout the summer of 1938 that the Luftwaffe would obliterate the
French air force with dire consequences for the war effort and for the
civilian population.60 As Herrick Chapman has remarked, ‘More than any
other event before the war, the Munich crisis convinced French officials of
the urgency of aircraft procurement.’61
The problems of French rearmament and specifically aircraft produc-
tion interlocked with building a new plant at Poissy. In planning for
Poissy, Dollfus was adamant that the facility be capable of producing
both V8 vehicles and a new four-cylinder car. Dollfus had told Sorensen
in December 1937 that he was open to this notion. The idea of construct-
ing such a car was amplified in a series of letters early in 1938. Dollfus laid
out his reasoning for Sorensen: Ford was already the dominant player in
the V8 market in France, controlling 57 per cent of the big V8 market and
35 per cent of the small V8 market. The possibility of expanding further
was unlikely. It made sense to move into the market for smaller cars given
this was the sector of French consumer demand that was most lively and
given that Poissy needed to be utilized to its maximum if the best returns
were to be extracted. Dollfus wanted a plant that was capable of producing
150–200 cars per day. With his habitual optimism, he forecast that with
the appropriate four-cylinder car, Ford could sell 20,000–24,000 of this
model per year. Given that total sales in 1937 – a banner year – of the
various V8 models amounted to just over 17,000, Poissy had to have a
four-cylinder line. But in early 1938, familiar obstacles remained in place.
Dollfus told Sorensen that he had been approached about making aviation
engine parts for Hispano-Suiza and Gnôme motors, and while sales of V8s
to the government might be feasible, French competitors were objecting
on the grounds that Ford SAF was not French. In January 1938, Dollfus
forwarded to Sorensen a preliminary estimate of the cost of constructing
the plant, which he put at $3.5 million if it produced V8 models alone and
$4.5–4.7 million if a four-cylinder line was included. How to obtain the
funds to pay for the plant was in question. Dollfus admitted that
recourse to French government loan programmes aimed at plant mod-
ernization was impossible: ‘Such facilities, however, are subject to a
certain number of practical conditions, such as qualifications as to

60
On French intelligence assessments of German airpower and Vuillemin’s pessimism, see
Peter Jackson, France and the Nazi Menace: Intelligence and Policy Making 1933–1939 (New
York, 2000), 268–79. More generally, Chapman, State Capitalism, 153–74.
61
Chapman, State Capitalism, 157.
 The remaking of Ford SAF, 1938–1940 41

French nationality and a right of verification of the books. In our posi-

tion, I am afraid that compliance with such conditions is out of the
question.’
Nonetheless, Dollfus found a solution to finance Poissy. He planned to
raise the funds from a combination of sources: money would be borrowed
from the other Ford companies in Europe, primarily the Belgian, the cost
of the needed machinery would be underwritten by Dearborn, Ford SAF
would contribute funds, while the sale of Asnières and other assets in
France would yield the remainder of the money required.62 Edsel Ford
and Sorensen agreed to this scheme and in May 1938 the Ford SAF
directors duly voted to proceed with construction of Poissy. Work on
the site began almost immediately. The Munich crisis changed matters.
The crisis depressed the automobile market in France, with the result that
Ford SAF’s total sales in 1938 slumped to 12,000 for the year, putting
additional strain on the company’s finances though the final loss for the
year was less than Dollfus feared originally.63 More critical were the
effects on France’s rearmament programme and on politics. In the wake
of Munich, the Daladier government embarked upon plans to expedite
rearmament, leading to a confrontation with the French labour move-
ment. The failure of labour’s general strike in November 1938 in France
shifted decisively the balance of power between government and labour in
France, to the benefit of industry.
Throughout the French automobile sector, 1938–9 evidenced the
quicker cadence of rearmament. This took two principal forms. One
was the growing involvement of the automobile companies in other
areas of rearmament, from making artillery shells, to tanks, to aviation
engines. The second was prioritizing truck production at the expense of
cars to meet the needs of the military. All of the surviving firms in the
industry were pressed into meeting the overriding imperative of rearma-
ment, with their workforces, plants, equipment and capital dedicated to
the demands of the state.64 Ford SAF, with its new plant at Poissy under
construction, was targeted as a firm that could help French readiness for
war. Questions of identity were swept aside. Daladier in his dual role as
premier and minister of defence warned Dollfus after Munich that Ford
SAF needed to be prepared for a crash conversion to wartime production.
In December 1938, the Ford SAF directors decided that steps
should be taken to create a manufacturing plant removed from the

62
A detailed breakdown is contained in BFRC, FMC, ACC 713, Box 7, Dollfus report, 8
November 1938.
63
BFRC, FMC, ACC 38, Box 40, Dollfus to Sorensen, 19 December 1938.
64
Loubet, Histoire de l’automobile française, 177–81, sketches these developments.
42 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

Franco-German frontier and well outside of Paris.65 This decision was

given added weight when early in 1939 La Chambre approached Dollfus
about the possibility of Ford SAF manufacturing aviation engines at
Poissy. Dollfus was interested. His long association with Hispano-
Suiza – Dollfus had been a board member since 1923 – meant not only
familiarity with the French aircraft industry, for Hispano-Suiza along with
Gnôme-et-Rhône was one of the two principal engine manufacturers for
the French air force, but contacts with leading figures in the French
rearmament drive. The Popular Front as part of its nationalization scheme
had taken over the major airframe makers in France. The aircraft engine
makers were too large to be absorbed with the funds available and so in the
spring of 1937 the Popular Front government purchased a minority stake
in Hispano-Suiza, obtaining a seat on the board of directors. This repre-
sented another point of contact between Dollfus, the government and
rearmament. Shortly thereafter, in the summer of 1937 Raoul Dautry
became president of Hispano-Suiza. In September 1939, Dautry was
appointed by Daladier as the new minister of armaments, responsible
for overseeing all aspects of French armaments including the aviation
sector. La Chambre was a partisan not only of purchasing in the United
States but also of engaging the French automobile industry directly in
aircraft production. La Chambre believed that reliance upon the nation-
alized firms alone was insufficient. Private industry must be recruited.66
Ford’s Poissy expansion, Dollfus’ involvement with Hispano-Suiza
and the needs of French rearmament combined. But before Dollfus
could agree to La Chambre’s request, he required the approval of Ford
Dearborn. Henry Ford believed in pacifism, had regarded World War I as
a tragedy and his post-war commitment to peace never waned. He was
loath to sanction Ford’s participation in armaments production. Beyond
this, there was the broader question of American public opinion. The
American involvement in World War I weighed heavily. Widely seen as an
episode that should not be repeated, the drum beat of mistrust and
suspicion was kept alive throughout the 1930s by academic works from
historians such as Charles Beard, Congressional hearings investigating the
bankers and the so-called merchants of death and most visibly the passage
of successive Neutrality Laws that sought to guarantee the United States
did not become involved in a future European war. While debate contin-
ues over Roosevelt’s intentions, there is no question that even if he was
privately against isolationism, he had not managed to overcome it by

65
Nevins and Hill, Ford, III, 317.
66
Chapman, State Capitalism, 166–72. On French purchasing efforts in the United States,
see John McVickar Haight Jr, American Aid to France, 1938–1940 (New York, 1970).
 The remaking of Ford SAF, 1938–1940 43

1939. Having supported appeasement in 1938 and having welcomed the

Munich agreement, Roosevelt’s administration charted a cautious course
through 1939. Roosevelt’s hopes that Hitler and Mussolini might be
amenable to resolution of outstanding issues were not dashed when
Germany absorbed what remained of Czechoslovakia in March 1939.
Repeated gestures designed to promote stability in Europe were rebuffed,
notably in April 1939, when Hitler scathingly dismissed Roosevelt’s latest
proposal out of hand. The coming of war revealed that the American
public remained conflicted. While most Americans backed France and
Britain, equally large numbers desired fervently that the United States
remain neutral. Roosevelt’s caution was thus understandable and it was
not until October 1939 that Congress agreed to modify the neutrality
legislation that had hindered Allied purchasing in the United States.67
While such considerations might have given Dollfus pause, he moved
ahead though the construction at Poissy strained Ford SAF’s finances.
Contractors building the new plant were offered stock in Ford SAF in lieu
of cash. Dollfus told Sorensen that to offset the heavy overhead costs
associated with the work at Poissy, he was striving to obtain ‘the largest
number of government contracts possible’. There had been some
successes in this regard. A small contract for 1.5-ton trucks destined for
alpine and colonial troops had been obtained in 1938, though the French
army remained leery of Matford’s foreign roots.68 Notification of La
Chambre’s approach in January 1939 was thus undoubtedly unsurprising
to Ford Dearborn. In March 1939, Dollfus went to the United States to
discuss building engines for the French air force, meeting Edsel Ford and
Sorensen in Florida. These talks, expanded to include other Ford
Dearborn executives, revolved around the details of the proposed work.
Neither Edsel Ford nor Sorensen appear to have been concerned at the
prospect of undertaking the work, nor is there evidence that Henry Ford
was consulted. This is remarkable inasmuch as little more than a year
later, in dire circumstances for Britain and France, Henry Ford inter-
vened to cancel a contract for Rolls Royce Merlin engines with the British
government that had been agreed to by Edsel Ford and Sorensen. The
1940 decision cancelling the Rolls Royce contract was at least consistent
with Henry Ford’s long-standing convictions. Perhaps in 1939, Henry

67
The literature on these topics is immense. For a starting point, see Justus D. Doenecke
et al., ‘The United States, Europe and Asia between the World Wars and the Prelude to
World War II’ in Robert Beisner, ed., American Foreign Relations since 1600, 2nd edn
(Santa Barbara, 2003), 817–932.
68
BFRC, FMC, ACC 38, Box 40, 23 December 1938, memo on financial problems at
Poissy; and François Vauvillier and Jean-Michel Touraine, L’Automobile sous l’uniforme
1939–1940 (Paris, 1992), 77.
44 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

Ford regarded work being done in France as sufficiently distant not to

violate his well-known scruples regarding manufacturing war matériel;
perhaps the episode is further evidence of the incompleteness of his
control over his extended empire by this stage of his life. In any event,
the Florida conversations proceeded unchecked. Dollfus told Ford and
Sorensen that the French government was willing to order immediately
1,000 aviation engines, to be made at Poissy, with a price per motor of
$14,000–15,000. The government would pay 65 million francs toward the
cost of new machinery and would guarantee cost plus 10 per cent profit.
If the order should be cancelled all costs to the time of cancellation would
be covered and the government pledged to purchase a minimum of 250
engines. The French government wanted Poissy to produce 55 engines a
month or approximately 600 a year. The intent was to manufacture the
Merlin engine under licence from Rolls Royce.69
The March 1939 Florida talks established that Ford SAF would make
engines for the French air force. What remained was ironing out the
details of the contract and deciding where the work would be undertaken.
The second question was settled first. After some searching, a suitable
complex was located at Bordeaux. The plant, which consisted of various
buildings and occupied 32,000 square metres, had cranes and access to
docks and railways. A newly formed subsidiary of Ford SAF, FordAir
created on 23 June 1939, purchased the Bordeaux plant for 6.5 million
francs in late July 1939, though the transaction did not close until just
before the outbreak of war. Machinery and equipment from Strasbourg
was shipped to Bordeaux to outfit the plant. More specialized machine
tools were ordered in the United States, through a FordAir subsidiary,
Machine Suppliers Inc., incorporated in October 1939 in Dearborn and
headed by Mix, the Ford engineer who had been involved with the
Strasbourg plant.70 The French government furnished the financing
for FordAir.
The contract proved more difficult to settle. This was a function of a
number of considerations, one of which was the scope of the air force
rearmament programme. While there was agreement that rapid expansion
of the air force was essential, the French Ministry of Finance, led by Paul
Reynaud, worried by the implications for the franc and the French foreign
exchange position, questioned the escalating costs of Plan V. La Chambre

69
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 57, H. L. Moekle memorandum, 17 March 1939. Moekle was
part of the Florida conversations as a member of Ford Dearborn’s auditing department.
70
On Bordeaux, see Nevins and Hill, Ford, III, 320; BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 57, Dollfus
to Edsel Ford and Sorensen, 9 September 1939, for the plant’s physical dimensions
and characteristics. NARA, RG 131, Foreign Funds Control, Box 135, memorandum
of 13 February 1942 laying out the structure of Machinery Suppliers Inc.
 The remaking of Ford SAF, 1938–1940 45

in contrast was urging a maximal effort. Dollfus cabled Dearborn on

9 May 1939 ‘they [the French government] are becoming increasingly
anxious to ensure early delivery of these engines. . .I saw the Minister
[La Chambre] again yesterday, and he urged me very strongly to do
everything I could in this respect.’71 War in September 1939 doused the
embers of Reynaud’s resistance while increasing dramatically the expect-
ations of industry. In September 1939, the decision was taken to boost the
airframe target from 330 a month to 1,600 a month by June 1940. This
necessitated correspondingly greater engine output but Gnôme-et-Rhône
managed to dissuade the Air Ministry that this goal should be met (in part)
by licensing the Rolls Royce engine technology. Domestic engine pro-
duction would suffice.72
A second problem was that while Edsel Ford and Sorensen might have
agreed in principle to the aviation engine contract, they were never com-
fortable. Dearborn signalled to Dollfus in May 1939 that they were uneasy
with the lack of specifics of the work. Without more information,
Dearborn was not certain that they could design and supply the machine
tools necessary. Dollfus was reassuring in response, telling Edsel Ford
that nothing was amiss and that the government had increased its order to
1,200 engines, while boosting the amount that they were willing to spend
on machinery from 65 to 89 million francs. That same month, the notice
from Dollfus that the French government was pressing Ford SAF to boost
production and inquiring whether the other Ford European companies
might aid, should be interpreted in part as designed to ease the concerns of
Ford Dearborn.73 Throughout the summer of 1939, Dollfus and
Dearborn wrangled over modifications to the engine contract. It appeared
by the outbreak of war that matters had been settled. The total value of the
order was 540 million francs for 1,200 Rolls Royce Merlin engines with
production ramping up from 2 engines in September 1939 to 60 a month
in June 1940 and 120 a month thereafter. The government reserved the
right to cancel the contract after 300 motors.74 In the autumn of 1939, a
Hispano-Suiza engine replaced the Merlin. Dollfus was at pains to assure
Dearborn that this switch would be seamless, made simpler due to his past
association with Hispano-Suiza and was motivated primarily by the fact
that the Hispano-Suiza motor could be built more quickly.75 As Chapman
has shown, the lobbying by Gnôme-et-Rhône mentioned earlier was in

71
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 57, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 9 May 1939.
72
Chapman, State Capitalism, 214, for the higher airframe target, and 172 for Gnôme-et-
Rhône.
73
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 243, Dollfus to Ford Dearborn, 9 May 1939.
74
BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, Box 67, contains a copy of the contract.
75
BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, Box 66, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 8 December 1939.
46 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

fact the chief reason for the change. The doubts harboured in Dearborn
about the FordAir project lingered. In October 1939, when Ford SAF
asked Guaranty Trust of New York to guarantee the amount of 30 million
francs on behalf of Machinery Suppliers Inc., Ford Dearborn’s response
was unequivocal: ‘We explained that the American Ford Company had no
direct connections with Fordair or the United States buying corporation
and that it would not desire to connect itself direct with these companies.’
Grudgingly, Dearborn admitted that they thought it was a good busi-
ness.76 When Dollfus’ ambitions for FordAir became more grandiose in
the spring of 1940 – he told Edsel Ford that he was aiming for production
at Poissy to reach 500 engines a month – and followed this startling
statement with a proposal in April 1940 to swallow Hispano-Suiza,
Edsel Ford quashed such dreams: ‘The aviation industry is a highly
specialized one, and I am sure that you will find it a most difficult one.
Although there may be some asset in FordAir at the end of the war, so far
as we are concerned we would be glad to have it wound up and liquidated,
and return to our regular production matériels.’77
Qualms about FordAir and the course that Dollfus was charting for
Ford SAF were compounded by a dispute that arose in 1939 regarding
money. This involved primarily the expenses associated with the con-
struction of Poissy. To meet the outlays required at Poissy, the board of
directors of Ford SAF, from August 1939 chaired by Dollfus, authorized
a rise in the capital of the firm from 130 million francs to 300 million
francs. Ford Dearborn was called upon to contribute to this capital
expansion. Initially, Dearborn agreed. But then came war. War swept
away Dollfus, who was animated further by the award of a substantial
truck contract to Matford. The Ministry of War placed an order for
5,000 5-ton covered trucks.78 Dollfus told Sorensen in September
1939 that he had stopped making cars in compliance with orders from
the French government, was evacuating machinery from Strasbourg and
was shipping it to Bordeaux. Once Bordeaux was operational, Asnières
would be shuttered. Six days later, Dollfus informed Dearborn that
Asnières was being ‘transformed’ to handle truck repairs and that the
truck contract Matford had been awarded ‘is more than double our total
yearly business and will amount to some twenty million dollars yearly’.

76
BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, Box 67, memorandum by H. L. Moekle, 26 October 1939.
77
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 62, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 4 March 1940, Edsel Ford to
Dollfus, 19 April 1940.
78
Vauvillier and Touraine, L’Automobile sous l’uniforme, 77 and 103. In December 1939, the
truck contract was raised to 6,150 trucks. The same month Matford received an order for
900 fuel tankers from the Ministry of Air.
 The remaking of Ford SAF, 1938–1940 47

Dollfus wanted money immediately from Dearborn.79 For Dollfus, war

removed the last impediments to the future prosperity of Ford SAF.
Questions of the company’s identity were buried; its commercial suc-
cess seemed ensured; all that was needed was financial assistance from
Dearborn.
If war stimulated Dollfus, Edsel Ford and Sorensen were worried. The
outbreak of war caused them to reconsider their initial acquiescence to
raising the capital of Ford SAF. The frenetic nature of Dollfus’ commu-
nications in September, especially the shuffling of plans for Asnières, was
ill received. Warning from Dollfus on 18 September that Poissy might be
seized by the French government for repair work freshened worries.80
Dearborn had doubts regarding the sprawling nature of Ford SAF’s
growth. FordAir was a sore point. Rapidly, Ford SAF experienced a
cash flow crisis, for even with the injection of funds provided by the
French government to FordAir, Dollfus had overreached. Cost overruns
at Poissy were taking their toll. By October 1939, he was desperate. In a
private and confidential letter to Edsel Ford, Dollfus defended his actions
and warned ‘these payments [to Poissy contractors] cannot be postponed
any longer without destroying completely the credit of this organization,
and, if I may say so, affecting seriously the credit of other Ford companies
in Europe’. Bankruptcy loomed. Dollfus told Edsel Ford that questions
were beginning to be asked in official quarters about Dearborn’s commit-
ment to Ford SAF and to France.81 Faced with this missive, Edsel Ford
and Sorensen gave way. Dearborn agreed to inject $2 million into Ford
SAF, half of which was to be in the form of machinery, the remaining $1
million to be split into a $680,000 cash advance and a $320,000 purchase
of 12,000 shares of Matford. Dollfus was relieved: ‘My greatest problem
was the financial one; that is practically over now.’82
While Dollfus obtained what he wanted, he had overextended Ford
SAF. The months of the Phony War demonstrated this unequivocally, for
while Matford and FordAir had handsome contracts, they failed to fulfil
them. Ford SAF’s deficiencies in this regard were, of course, not unique.
French industry as a whole had trouble ramping up to meet accelerating
rearmament demands. Nonetheless, the confusion within Ford was
acute enough that in November 1939 Edsel Ford inquired plaintively
for a reckoning of what products were being made where, for he was

79
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 57, Dollfus to Sorensen, 9 September 1939, Dollfus to
Dearborn, 15 September 1939.
80
BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, Box 69, Dollfus memorandum, 18 September 1939.
81
BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, Box 66, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 14 October 1939.
82
BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, Box 66, memorandum by H. L. Moekle, 26 October 1939,
Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 27 October 1939.
48 Ford SAF: 1929–1940

uncertain.83 Edsel Ford’s bewilderment is understandable, for Ford SAF

was attempting to keep Asnières going, while finishing Poissy and inte-
grating Bordeaux. Dollfus, however, was to some extent responsible for
this situation. As Sorensen remarked: ‘Dollfus could never stay with any
plan he laid. Everyday he had a new plan.’84 The result was shifting
priorities as to what would be built where. Exacerbating matters were
circumstances and the need to configure multiple plants. Strasbourg had
been emptied of machinery and its personnel transferred. Though some
600 men from Strasbourg were retained, labour shortages were pressing.
This had begun to be an issue late in 1938 when wage pressures
mounted.85 It worsened through 1939 as the upturn in Ford SAF’s
fortunes mandated a larger workforce, but the demands of conscription,
the coming of war and the shortage of skilled staff led to Dollfus to confide
to Edsel Ford ‘[m]y greatest problem today is getting enough men to do
the work we have been entrusted with’.86 Hiring women was a partial
solution to the labour shortfall, an expedient that delivered some relief but
not enough, for recruitment proved challenging, due to ‘shockingly low
salaries’. How much labour handicapped Ford SAF is conjectural but it
was a factor. Raw matériels were also becoming an issue for Ford SAF by
the spring of 1940. Beyond these impediments, existed others. One was
the lack of engineering expertise available to Ford SAF. This situation,
which owed much to the dependence upon Ford Dearborn, had been
apparent throughout the 1930s and was not corrected by the time that war
came. Evidently, it was linked to the fact that Ford SAF did not have its
own manufacturing plant, a state of affairs that Poissy was supposed to
rectify. But Poissy was delayed repeatedly. By the autumn of 1939, it was
functioning at 10 per cent of capacity. In March 1940, Dollfus admitted to
Edsel Ford that the Poissy plant was still not finished, though he hoped it
would be completed by mid-April.87
When the German invasion began on 10 May 1940, Ford SAF
appeared to be reaching its stride. The firm made trucks, truck parts,
aviation engines and components for the 20 mm Hispano-Suiza air can-
non. Trucks were made at Bordeaux and assembled at Poissy. Bordeaux
also made parts for the aviation engines and for the Hispano-Suiza can-
non. Poissy was supposed to be turning out aviation engines. Production

83
BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, Box 66, Edsel Ford to Dollfus, 9 November 1939.
84
BFRC, FMC, ACC 65, Box 65, Sorensen Oral Reminiscences. See too Charles
E. Sorensen, My Forty Years with Ford (New York, 1956).
85
BFRC, FMC, ACC 38, Box 40, Dollfus to Sorensen, 19 December 1938.
86
BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, Box 66, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 27 October 1939.
87
Wilkins and Hill, American Business Abroad, 318, for the 10 per cent figure; BFRC, FMC,
ACC 6, Box 62, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 4 March 1940.
 The remaking of Ford SAF, 1938–1940 49

was rising but overall what is striking is how poor Ford SAF’s production
record was. Of the 10,400 truck orders that were placed for delivery by the
end of 1940, approximately 1,000 were delivered. Of the 900 fuel tankers
ordered by the Air Ministry, 150 were delivered.88 Aviation engines?
FordAir seems to have produced no Hispano-Suiza aviation engines.
Despite Ford SAF’s uneven performance in meeting its contracts, on
the eve of the Fall of France Dollfus felt confident about the future.
Rearmament and war had had the effect of loosening the relationship
with Ford Dearborn. Ford SAF appeared to be on the verge of financial
independence. Poissy was nearing completion and the order books were
full. Ford SAF was a company whose prospects of being a major player in
the European market had improved dramatically. It was this promise that
attracted both the Germans and Vichy after June 1940. Yet both would
have done better to examine searchingly Ford SAF’s track record. If as an
automobile company Ford SAF had managed the not insignificant feat of
surviving the challenging environment of the 1930s, it had only done so
due to the support of Ford Dearborn. What would happen once that
backing was removed, as it was after May–June 1940? As a constituent
of the French rearmament effort, Ford SAF had underperformed. Put
charitably, it had not been able to produce what it had contracted. Dollfus
had pledged the firm to undertake a variety of enterprises that were
beyond its physical, labour and engineering capacities. This reality was
obscured by the dazzling lure of Poissy. Once the latter was completed,
the bottlenecks constraining Ford SAF’s productive capacity would
disappear – or so it was imagined.

88
Vauvillier and Touraine, L’Automobile sous l’uniforme, 77 and 103.
2 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

Everything changed with France’s rapid defeat in the summer of 1940.

Unleashed on 10 May, the German offensive in the West scored a decisive
success in a matter of days when tank units managed to break through the
French lines in the Ardennes, cross the Meuse River and begin their dash
to the Channel. Before long, the bulk of Anglo-French armies found
themselves out-manoeuvred and cut off. As early as 15 May, a distraught
Paul Reynaud, the French premier, informed Winston Churchill, the
newly appointed British prime minister, that ‘[w]e have been defeated;
we have lost the battle’.1 Reynaud’s bleak assessment proved all too
accurate. On 27 May, the British expeditionary force, together with
elements of the French army, began the withdrawal by sea at Dunkirk.
Less than a month later, on 17 June, Marshal Philippe Pétain, now French
premier, asked the Germans for an armistice. Signed five days later in a
forest clearing in Compiègne, located north-east of Paris, the armistice
agreement marked France’s military exit from the war.
Provisional in nature, the armistice agreement was to be replaced by a
formal peace treaty at the end of the war. In the meantime, the Germans
sought to keep their options open, which helps to explain the document’s
brevity. Under the terms of the armistice, France was divided into several
parts, the principal ones being an occupied zone that included most of
northern France and that extended down the Atlantic coast to the Spanish
border; and an unoccupied zone covering much of southern France and
whose capital was the sleepy spa town of Vichy. This division would last
until November 1942 when German troops entered the unoccupied zone.
The French army and air force were effectively disarmed and its fleet
demobilized in its home ports. If anything, the economic terms were
briefer still. Article 17 forbid the French from transferring ‘economic
valuables and provisions’ from the occupied to the unoccupied zone,
while article 18 stipulated that the French government would be

1
Jackson, The Fall of France, 9.

50
 German policy 51

responsible for all occupation costs – an article that the Germans would
use to extract resources on a massive scale. All other issues would be dealt
with by a Franco-German armistice commission that would include an
economic section.
The open-ended nature of the armistice agreement is significant
because it meant that the concrete aspects of the German occupation
would be worked out – or negotiated – afterwards. This process would
involve both German and French officials at the highest levels, but it
would also include a wide range of other actors, among them Ford SAF.

German policy
The Germans were woefully unprepared for the Occupation. The
lightning-quick victory in the West had caught Hitler and his minions by
surprise. Even so, given that the Nazi regime had been preparing for a war
of conquest from the beginning, it is remarkable how little attention was
paid beforehand to the details of occupation. As Josef Goebbels, the Nazi
propaganda maestro, admitted to journalists just one month before the
German offensive in the West: ‘If anyone asks how you conceive the new
Europe, we have to reply that we don’t know.’2 This is true not only of
the political-legal constraints (if any) on the powers of the occupation
authorities, but also of the larger aims and nature of the Occupation.
A November 1939 directive concerning the future administration of
occupied territories in Western Europe assigned the task to the army
high command and indicated that the treatment of local populations
would depend on their behaviour towards the Germans. Mention of
longer-term aims – and especially of annexationist plans – was to be
strictly avoided. Two points are worth underscoring. One is that the
Germans clearly distinguished between Eastern and Western Europe.
The defeat of Poland in September 1939 marked the beginning of wide-
scale atrocities against civilians as well as the complete disappearance of
the Polish state.3 Nothing similar was envisaged for the West. The second
noteworthy point is that the Germans conceived of their projected occu-
pation in the West largely in reactive terms, a principle reiterated in
another directive issued on the eve of the offensive in May 1940. The
civilian populations would be ‘protected and economic life maintained’

2
Cited in Mark Mazower, Hitler’s Empire: Nazi Rule in Occupied Europe (London,
2008), 121.
3
For Poland see Alexander B. Rossino, Hitler Strikes Poland: Blitzkrieg, Ideology and Atrocity
(Lawrence, KS, 2003); and Jochen Böhler, Auftakt zum Vernichtungskrieg. Die Wehrmacht
in Polen 1939 (Frankfurt am Main, 2006).
52 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

insofar as they avoided ‘hostile acts’ which included the undefined cat-
egory of ‘passive resistance’.4
This uncertainty carried over into the initial thinking on economic-
industrial policy. That the French economy would be exploited to
Germany’s benefit was self-evident; but the question of how and to what
extent was initially unclear. Instructions from the army high command in
October 1939 stated that the ‘principal task’ of an occupation was to
encourage a ‘calm and loyal attitude of [local] populations’. Accordingly,
‘the protection’ of economic goods in general and of private property in
particular took priority over the needs of the occupation forces or the
German people. Such altruism, however, quickly proved ephemeral: by
year’s end the talk was of using the resources of the occupied territories in
the ‘interests of the Wehrmacht and of home (Heimat)’.5 Fuelling this
change was a growing awareness that Germany’s war economy was reach-
ing the limits of its capacity. Already in November 1939, General Georg
Thomas, head of the economic section of the OKW (armed forces high
command), had warned that shortages of capacity and labour meant that
‘the war economy in its present form could not continue’. Hitler’s response
was to step up production in the run-up to the offensive in the West – a
decision that Adam Tooze aptly describes as ‘going for broke’.6 Thomas
had little choice but to acquiesce. Nevertheless, the yawning gap in war
production between demand and capacity did mean that Thomas and his
staff would cast ever more covetous eyes at the potential riches of Western
Europe. Thus, in instructions drawn up in February 1940, armaments
teams were told that their first task in occupied Western Europe was to
identify factories that could work for the Wehrmacht. Significantly, the
instructions remarked that such work could only be undertaken on a
voluntary and contractual basis.7
These developments are important because occupied France would be
placed under military authority, the MbF, which possessed a staff that
fluctuated between 1,200 and 1,600 during the war. Within the MbF, the
economic sub-section was directly subordinate to Thomas and the OKW

4
‘Führer’s Directive’, 9 May 1940, Documents on German Foreign Policy, series D, vol. IX,
300–1. For the November directive, see Bernhardt R. Kroener et al., eds., Das Deutsche
Reich und der Zweite Weltkrieg, V/1: Kriegsverwaltung, Wirtschaft und Personelle Resourcen
1939–41 (Stuttgart, 1988), 5/1, 56–7.
5
BA-MA RW 19/1779, ‘Wirtschaftliche Aufgaben im besetzten Gebiet’, Wirtschaftsabteilung,
13 November 1939; and ‘Richtlinien für I Wi’, undated but late 1939.
6
BA-MA RW 19/1792, ‘Aktennotiz. Besprechung General Thomas mit Minister
Funk und Staatssekretär Posse am 7.11.1939’; and Tooze, The Wages of Destruction,
326–67.
7
BA-MA RW 19/1779, ‘Rüstungswirtschaft. 1. Aufgaben der Rüstungsdienststellen im
besetzten Gebiet’, 5 February 1940.
 German policy 53

in Berlin. Although the military administration was quickly established,

German economic policy initially remained uncertain. When the
Germans entered France they immediately embarked on large-scale plun-
der. In principle, plunder was to be limited to what individual soldiers
confiscated as ‘war booty’ – money, weapons, bicycles, food, etc. In
reality, however, the practice was far more extensive and systematic. In
July 1940, Thomas approved the seizure of all stocks of scarce raw
matériels and of factory machines. As a result, the Germans continued
to take almost everything they could get their hands on, loading trains that
were then sent to Germany. In October 1940, German officials estimated
that almost 4,000 industrial machines had been removed from France, a
figure that would climb to well over 16,000 by the end of 1941.8 Few
companies were completely spared. In the case of Ford SAF, twenty-four
train cars (wagons) of matériel were seized from its Asnières plant, some of
which found its way to other Ford companies in Europe (Anvers and
Amsterdam).9
Plunder on such a scale, however, amounted to an immediate and
temporary fix rather than a long-term policy. Aware of this, the army
moved quickly to limit the ‘uncontrolled seizures’ of goods.10 More gen-
erally, while plundering would continue at a reduced level throughout
1940–1, the occupation authorities understood that a more sustained and
less one-sided approach was needed if Germany were to reap the full
benefits of French industrial capacity. For Thomas’ staff, as already indi-
cated, the answer was to get French factories working for the Wehrmacht.
Developments on the ground, meanwhile, pointed in this direction. As
soon as the armistice agreement was signed, German industrialists began to
descend on France in search of possible sub-contractors. By and large, they
found a receptive audience among French industrialists, the vast majority of
whom were eager to get their factories and labour force working once again.
In the automobile industry, for example, French companies were deter-
mined to restart production that had been disrupted by the recent upheav-
als. Although some companies such as Renault initially hesitated to take a
lead, seeking political cover from French authorities, it was self-evident to

8
BA-MA RW 24/2, ‘Kriegstagbuch Wehrwirtschafts – und Rüstungsstab Frankreich’,
‘Bericht der Ereignisse’, 7 October 1940; and RW 24/3, ‘Bericht der Ereignisse’, 1
December 1941.
9
AP, Ford SAF, DOS 2008 RE-30422, Ford SAF, ‘Rapport sur la vie de Ford S.A.F.
pendant la guerre (1er Septembre 1939 – 1er Novembre 1944)’, undated, 8; and AN 3W/
230, Schmidt (Ford-Werke) to Major Dr Voekler (GBK), 20 December 1940. For more
on German plundering, see Radtke-Delacor, ‘Produire pour le Reich’, 101–3.
10
BA-MA RW 35/522, untitled note from Oberbefehlshaber des Heeres. Der Chef der
Militärverwaltung in Frankreich. Verwaltungstab, 19 August 1940.
54 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

all concerned that getting back to work meant working in large part for the
occupiers. Consequently, by the end of August 1940 German officials
could report that thirty-one automobile factories in or around Paris had
received German army (Heer) contracts, notably among them the Ford
SAF factories in Asnières and Poissy.11
German policy quickly adapted to the changing situation. As early as
mid-July, a high-ranking official in the German automobile industry
informed a meeting of French producers that the occupation authorities
wanted to see a quick ‘remise en marche’ of production.12 Any lingering
doubts were swept aside the following month when Hermann Göring, the
German industrial chief, issued a decree calling for the ‘systematic’
exploitation of Western Europe’s resources, effectively clearing the way
for the large-scale use of French industrial capacity. For this purpose, a
clearing house was created (ZASt) within the MbF to coordinate (and
oversee) the placing of contracts with French companies. Although
Göring’s decree sought to restrict contracts to ‘indirect war matériel’
(i.e., mostly parts rather than complete products), this distinction soon
became meaningless, in large part because the ZASt proved ineffective as
German industrialists and military procurement officials preferred to deal
directly with French companies.13 As a result, the tide of contracts of all
kinds quickly rose. By January 1941, German occupation officials esti-
mated that some 435 French factories had received German contracts for
a total value of 1.5 billion Reichsmarks. With good reason, Arne Radtke-
Delacor has described Göring’s 1940 decree as the ‘charter’ for Franco-
German business relations.14

Göring’s ambitions
That Göring played a leading role in promoting the placement of indus-
trial contracts in occupied Western Europe is significant. As head of the
Four Year Plan organization, he had been a pivotal figure in the Nazi

11
For Renault’s position, see BA-MA RW 24/15, ‘Lagebericht des Wirtschafts- u.
Rüstungsstabes Frankreich für die Zeit bis 31.7.1940’, 5 August 1940. For contracts,
see NARA T 77/1255, Rüstungsinspektion Paris, ‘Firmenbelegung durch Wehrmachtteil
Heer’, 25 September 1940.
12
AN Z/6NL/3 dossier 9SP, ‘Note de M. de Peyrecave’, 30 June 1947.
13
BAL R 3101/30839, RWM circular, ‘Planmässige Ausnutzung der Wirtschaft der
besetzten westlichen Gebiete für die deutsche Kriegswirtschaft’, 28 August 1940, and
accompanying documents; for ‘indirect war matériel’, see BA-MA RW 24/15, Chef des
Wirtschafts- u. Rüstungsstab Frankreich, ‘Tätigkeitsbericht’, no. 559/40, 10 August
1940.
14
AN AJ 40/776, ‘Bericht zum 18. Januar 1941. C. Die franz. Wirtschaft. I. Allgemeines’;
and Radtke-Delacor, ‘Produire pour le Reich’, 104.
 Göring’s ambitions 55

regime’s economic preparations for war before 1939, fully sharing Hitler’s
determination to accelerate armaments production despite the increasing
strains caused by Germany’s limited resources. In a meeting with German
industrialists in 1936, Göring typically exclaimed that the phrase ‘it is
impossible’ simply did not apply to rearmament.15 But his ambitions and
radicalism extended well beyond Germany. Once the war began, Göring
emerged as a powerful proponent of recasting the European economy
with the ultimate goal of creating a continental empire. Interestingly,
Göring was hardly alone in dreaming of empire. Following Germany’s
military victories in the West, a variety of governmental and non-
governmental agencies – the Foreign Ministry, the German Reichsbank
and various industrial organizations – began to consider the economic
outlines of a post-war, German-dominated Europe. At a meeting in June
1940 of the economic group for the German automobile industry, an
organization comprising principally of company representatives, the par-
ticipants were told that they must collectively begin to prepare for the
‘expansion of the German economic space [in Europe]’ which the ‘victo-
rious end to the war would inevitably produce’.16
From the beginning, a deep-seated ambivalence characterized much of
this dreaming about European empire. As might be expected with Nazi
Germany, domineering impulses were amply evident. For example, in
June 1940 an Interior Ministry official wrote a memorandum on
Germany’s western borders that proposed permanently weakening
France by reducing it to a ‘core area’ (Kerngebiet), separated from most
of its most valuable industrial areas. Far from unique, the memorandum’s
hostility towards France reflected a powerful strain within the Nazi regime
in 1940 – a strain Hitler himself endorsed.17 At the same time, it is
possible to detect more moderate impulses, particularly within commer-
cial, industrial and financial circles. While taking for granted that
Germany would dominate a post-war European economy, leading mem-
bers of these circles believed that the Germans would be better served by a
more cooperative approach that took into account the interests of other
countries. As one high-ranking German Reichsbank official wrote in

15
Göring is cited in Jost Dülffer, ‘Die “Gruppe Otto Wolfe” 1929 bis 1945’ in
Peter Danylow and Ulrich S. Soénius, eds., Otto Wolf: Ein Unternehmen zwischen
Wirtschaft und Politik (Munich, 2005), 176. For Göring more generally, see R. J. Overy,
Göring, the ‘Iron Man’ (Boston, MA, 1984).
16
MBA, Bestand Kissel, 7.2, Wirtschaftsgruppe Kraftfahrzeug, ‘Niederschrift über die
Beiratssitzung am 6.6.1940’, 6 June 1940.
17
Peter Schöttler, ‘Eine Art “Generalplan West”. Die Stuckart-Denkschrift vom 14. Juli
1940 und die Planungen für eine neue deutsch-französishe Grenze im Zweiten
Weltkrieg’, Sozial.Geschichte, 18 (2003), 83–131. Schöttler argues that it is quite possible
that Hitler read the memorandum.
56 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

August 1940, ‘the individual peoples [of Europe] should not be forced
into a greater German economic bloc but should be persuaded to partic-
ipate in a continental European economic community’. If talk of an
economic community was probably far-fetched, the note of restraint is
nevertheless worth underscoring.18
For Göring, however, any idea of restraint was anathema. His views,
moreover, carried particular weight. In addition to his various titles,
Göring was Hitler’s presumptive heir. Although his authority would
soon begin to decline, in 1940 Göring was still a powerful figure within
the Nazi regime. From the outset of the war, he used his considerable
influence to advocate a ruthless and one-sided approach to Europe’s
economic future, one in which the organized exploitation of other coun-
tries would be the guiding principle. An important element of this
approach was the ‘Germanization’ of Europe’s economy. Walter Funk,
the German economics minister and close ally of Göring, explained what
this meant in a July 1940 speech: the creation of a continental bloc
modelled on Nazi Germany’s economic system. In this conception,
other countries would be compelled not only ‘to organize their economies
according to the needs of the German market’, but also to adopt more
dirigiste methods. Germany’s ‘prodigious [military] successes’, Funk
asserted, had decisively demonstrated the superiority of its economic
system and the inadequacies of economic liberalism. As a result, ‘[t]here
can be no question of re-establishing the free play of competitive forces’.19
Funk’s concluding remarks are especially pertinent in light of the wide-
spread belief among German officials that France constituted a bastion of
economic liberalism. Reporting to the MbF on his recent visit to occupied
France in September 1940, one German observer deplored the domi-
nance of a mental ‘attitude [associated with] a pure liberal-capitalist
economic system’. French industrialists in particular, he added, appeared
unable to grasp ‘the concept of a unified national-military armaments
economy’ that was so familiar to their German counterparts. Similarly,
an undated MbF assessment described France as the ‘classical country of
economic liberalism’, adding that in 1940 it did not possess ‘even the

18
BAL R 2501/7017, Reichsbank (Volkswirtschaftliche Abteiliung) to Dr Reithinger (Leiter
der Volkswirtschaftlichen Abteilung der I. G. Farbenindustrie A. G.), 30 August 1940.
The leading historian of Germany’s continental European plans detected an important
element of restraint – an element he attributed to sentiments of ‘European solidarity’ and
an attachment to economic liberalism. See Jacques Freymond, Le IIIe Reich et la
réorganisation économique de l’Europe 1940–1942 (Leiden, 1974), 103–8, 127–35, 155–8.
19
For Funk’s speech, see the résumé in Ministère des Affaires ètrangères, Vichy 622, ‘Lettre
no. 31. L’unification économique de l’Europe d’après le discours du ministre allemand de
l’économie nationale’, Berne, 30 July 1940.
 Göring’s ambitions 57

modest beginnings of a planned economy’.20 For Göring’s Four Year

Plan, it was self-evident that the French needed ‘a new economic face’.21
During the coming months and years, the need to mobilize French
productive capacity for Germany’s war effort would reinforce this
impulse, but the larger ambition of ‘Germanizing’ the French and
European economies would not disappear entirely. Meanwhile, the goal
of remodelling France’s economic system so that it resembled more
closely that of Nazi Germany could provide the occupation authorities
with valuable leverage over Vichy, precisely because many French officials
also believed that economic liberalism belonged to the past. In a public
address in September 1941, a high-ranking German embassy official
welcomed what he saw as signs that the French were turning their back
on the ‘old liberalist (liberalistische) economy’, remarking pointedly that
this development could lay the basis for a Franco-German partnership in
the construction of a new Europe. Conspicuous among those in attend-
ance at the event was François Lehideux.22
If Göring fully agreed with Funk’s general outline for Germanizing the
European economy, he placed particular emphasis on two related aims.
The first was to increase the presence of German companies in Europe,
principally through the purchase or confiscation of local companies or
through some form of unequal partnership between local and German
companies. ‘One goal of German economic policy’, he secretly
instructed in August 1940, ‘is the enlargement of German influence in
foreign enterprises.’ Writing to Funk the same month, Göring called for
the ‘intensive penetration’ by German capital of the economies of occu-
pied Europe. Equally significant, he insisted that this task could not
await the end of the war but must begin at once: ‘I ask you to pursue
during the war with all available means the acquisition for the German
economy of leading economic positions in France or of dominant eco-
nomic positions in third countries in French, Dutch, Belgian or
Norwegian possession.’23 For Göring, then, the priority was to increase
Germany’s economic presence in France. As we shall see, this effort had
implications not only for French industry as a whole but also for
Ford SAF.

20
BA-MA RW 24/15, ‘Bericht über Frankreich’, Schwarz, 24 September 1940; and AN F
37/28, ‘Rohstoff-Bewirtschaftung und Auftragsverlagerung in Frankreich’, undated.
21
‘Französischer Wirtschaftsreform’, Der Vierjahresplan, 4, 20 (October 1940), 899.
22
PAAA, Botschaft Paris, 2405, ‘Ansprache Lyon für Herrn Gesandten Schleier’, 25
September 1941.
23
Göring is cited in Stephen H. Lindner, Das Reichskommissariat für die Behandlung fein-
dlichen Vermögens im Zweiten Weltkrieg (Stuttgart, 1991), 43; and BAL R 2501/7017,
Göring to Funk, 17 August 1940.
58 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

For Ford SAF in particular, however, it was Göring’s second aim that
would cause the greatest concern: to reduce and eventually eliminate the
presence of foreign (non-European) companies in Europe. Of decisive
importance was German policy towards enemy-owned companies. Inter-
ministerial discussions in Berlin on the subject had begun in the autumn
of 1938 following the brush with war during the Czech crisis. At the time,
the participants agreed to two wartime principles: to respect private prop-
erty and to confiscate enemy assets (including companies) in Germany
only as retaliation for measures against German property abroad. At a
meeting soon after the start of the war, officials reaffirmed these two
principles and further agreed that administrators would be imposed on
foreign companies to ensure that they worked ‘in conformity with the
interests of the Reich’.24 The Justice Ministry was charged with drafting
a decree on the treatment of enemy assets, which was issued in
January 1940. Although in principle the decree applied only to
Germany, it was understood that it would also determine policy in the
occupied territories.
Stephen Lindner, who has written a valuable history of the bureaucratic
entity charged with overseeing enemy assets, the Reichskommissariat
für die Behandlung feindlichen Vermögens (RkBfV), describes the decree
as ‘astounding’ in its moderation.25 While Lindner is correct to highlight
this aspect, two related points need to be kept in mind. The first concerns
the United States. In drawing up the decree German officials had Britain
and France chiefly in mind. But the United States also figured in their
thinking. In part, this was because several American companies in
Germany, among them Ford-Werke, were technically owned by compa-
nies listed in Britain.26 A weightier factor, however, was the desire not to
jeopardize American neutrality. Washington’s open sympathy for the Allies,
together with the country’s vast resources, not only made the United
States a potential enemy, but also one whose belligerence could deci-
sively affect the course of the war. In December 1939, for example, the
OKW warned that the proposed decree on the treatment of enemy assets
must contain nothing that might provoke the neutral powers, by which it

24
BAL R 2/30023, Auswärtiges Amt, ‘Niedershrift über die am 7.10.1938 im Auswärtigen
Amt stattgefunden Besprechung wegen Behandlung feindlichen Vermögens im Falle
eines Krieges’, 13 October 1938; and ibid., Reichsminister der Justiz circular, vo. Va 6
1343, 28 October 1939.
25
See Lindner, Das Reichskommissariat, 32, and, more generally, 29–40.
26
On this point, see Philipp Grassert, ‘Keine rein geschäftliche Angelegenheit: Die
“Feindvermögensfrage” und die Auseinandersetzungen um die amerikanischen
Investitionen im Dritten Reich’ in Manfred Berg and Philipp Grassert, eds.,
Deutschland und die USA in der Internationalen Geschichte des 20. Jahrhunderts (Stuttgart,
2004), 353–4.
 Göring’s ambitions 59

clearly meant the United States.27 And this leads to the second point: the
policy embodied in the January 1940 decree did not enjoy a consensus.
That this was so became clear at an inter-ministerial meeting in February
1940 in the offices of the newly created RkBfV. At issue was the nature
and scope of the activities of company administrators. OKW and
Foreign Ministry officials recommended a minimalist interpretation
that would strictly limit the ability of an administrator to intervene in a
company’s management. By contrast, officials from the Interior and
Finance Ministries wanted administrators to be armed with extensive
powers, including the authority to liquidate a company. Given the dis-
agreement, the RkBfV was able to impose its own viewpoint, which was
that enemy companies should be treated as German companies – i.e.,
that they should be left largely alone. Interestingly, in justifying its
position the agency looked to the post-war period, suggesting that
enemy-owned companies could serve as useful cards in negotiations
over reparations and war damages.28
Göring’s Four Year Plan organization played almost no role in the dis-
cussions during 1939–40. But this relative silence quickly ended with the
German military victories in Western Europe. Largely as a result of Göring’s
insistent pressure, during July–August 1940 a series of inter-ministerial
meetings occurred to discuss whether the time had come to abandon the
existing policy and to proceed with the ‘exploitation’ (Verwertung) of enemy-
owned property. Taking the lead, Göring’s officials maintained that ‘a rapid
entry by Germany into the enemy’s economic position, especially in the
occupied territories, was desirable’. In particular, they wanted to use
German-appointed administrators to eliminate enemy-owned companies.
At these meetings, Göring’s officials received strong backing from their
counterparts in the Economics Ministry, highlighting the emerging alliance
between Göring and Funk. As for Göring himself, he pointed to Hitler’s
apparent disinterest in the economic aspects of a final peace treaty as a
reason for action. Reiterating his comments to Funk, Göring insisted that
effort to ‘secure’ Germany’s ‘economic position’ in Europe must begin at
once and not after the war, since by then it would be too late.29

27
BAL R 2/30023, Oberkommando der Wehrmacht circular, Wi. Rü Amt, B. Br. 7089/39,
14 December 1943, with attachment: ‘Stellungnahme zu dem Entwurf des
Reichsministers der Justiz einer Verordnung über die Behandlungen feindlichen
Vermögens’, 14 December 1939.
28
BAL R 87/56, ‘Sitzung des Reichskommissars für die Behandlung feindlichen Vermögens
für Freitag, den 16. Februar 1940’; and R 2/30038, ‘Vermerk über die Besprechung bei
dem Reichskommissar für die Behandlung feindlichen Vermögens am 16. Februar 1940,
16 Uhr’, undated.
29
BAL R 87/67, ‘Aktenvermerk’, RkBfV, 11 August 1940.
60 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

Although continued opposition from the Justice and Foreign Ministries

as well as from the RkBfV blocked any change, Göring had no intention of
dropping the subject. Indeed, in December 1940 officials from the Four
Year Plan and the Economics Ministry reiterated their calls for a change in
policy, arguing in particular for a decree that would permit the ‘forced
sale’ of enemy-owned companies in occupied Europe.30 After consider-
able debate, the RkBfV decided to prepare a draft decree along these lines
for possible use in the future. There, matters stood for the time being.
Although Göring had failed to impose his views, his determination to
Germanize the European economy remained undimmed. Indeed, he
would pursue his campaign with renewed vigour. As the war dragged on
and final victory receded from view, the urgent need to exploit occupied
Europe’s resources not only came to trump longer-term perspectives, but
also tended to reinforce the economic status quo since it could be plau-
sibly argued that any change would be disruptive in the short term. In this
context, German policy towards enemy-owned firms in occupied Europe
became a means for Göring to resist this process and, in so doing, to keep
open the possibility of a profound transformation of the European econ-
omy after the war. The American entry into the conflict in December
1941 would greatly increase the stakes involved, prompting Göring to
renew his campaign against enemy – and especially American – compa-
nies in occupied Europe.
In the meantime, the immediate future of American-owned companies
in Hitler’s Europe would be determined not by decisions in Berlin but by
developments on the ground. During 1940–1, Ford SAF found itself
threatened by Ford-Werke, Ford’s German affiliate, which sought to
take advantage of Germany’s military victories to replace Dearborn as
the centre of Ford’s European empire. That Ford-Werke’s ambitions
accorded with those of Göring to eliminate the American presence in
Europe’s economy only added to the threatening situation facing
Ford SAF.

The GBK
In its concrete, everyday aspects, German policy towards the French
automobile industry and Ford SAF in particular would initially be deter-
mined by the German organization in charge of the automobile industry –
the Generalbevollmächtigten für das Kraftfahrwesen (GBK). Created in

30
BAL 87/208, ‘Aktenvermerk’, RkBfV, no. 24759/40, 20 December 1940; and BAL R 2/
30024, Reichsminister der Justiz circular, no. 6536/40, 23 December 1940, with attach-
ment: ‘Vermerk über die Staatssekretärbesprechung am 16. Dezember 1940’, undated.
 The GBK 61

November 1938 by Göring and headed by General Adolf von Schell, a

military expert in motorization who in 1930–1 had studied Ford
Dearborn’s production methods first hand while posted in the United
States, the GBK was given the dual task of increasing output for the
Wehrmacht and of encouraging the rationalization of the German auto-
mobile industry, principally by concentrating production in fewer com-
panies and by reducing the number of vehicle types. A decree in March
1939 envisaged drastic reductions, for example slashing automobile-types
from 52 to 30 and truck-types from 113 to 19.31 The latter goal, however,
met with considerable resistance from the automobile companies, who
found the process neither economically nor politically attractive. But the
GBK’s biggest problem was to meet the regime’s ever-growing demands
for greater production at a time of mounting shortages of matériels and
manpower. In July 1940, the head of Daimler-Benz, speaking for the
industry as a whole, informed Schell that German automobile companies
were stretched beyond the limits of their resources and that the GBK’s
production programme for 1940–1 simply could not be met. Either more
resources would have to be found or the programme would have to be
reduced.32
Given this situation, it is hardly surprising that in the summer of 1940
the GBK looked to Western Europe and to France in particular with
covetous eyes. No sooner had German troops arrived in Paris than the
GBK established an office there under Colonel (later General) Max
Thoenissen. Under Thoenissen, the GBK in Paris had two partly over-
lapping priorities. The first and most immediate one was to get French
automobile companies working for the Germans as quickly as possible.
Accordingly, Thoenissen sought to put a stop to the practice of plunder-
ing French companies, deeming it counter-productive; back in Berlin,
meanwhile, Schell warned German industrialists that they would be
arrested if they seized machines and matériel in France. More generally,
Schell informed the latter that the French automobile industry must be
encouraged to produce ‘as many vehicles as possible’, and this for both
political and economic reasons:
If we make it impossible for the French worker to gain their bread, if we remove the
possibility for him to work, then we must feed him and employ him. If we throw the
French, who were previously working, onto the street then we impose on ourselves
a political burden that is too heavy. [What we need to do instead is] to build up

31
H. S. Granf von Scherr-Thoss, Die deutsche Automobilindustrie. Eine Dokumentation von
1886 bis heute (Stuttgart, 1974), 333; and Peter Kirchberg and Siegfried Bunke, Vom
Horch zum Munga. Militärfahrzeuge der Auto Union (Bielefeld, 2010), 95–7.
32
MBA, Bestand Kissel, 9.27, Kissel to Schell, 25 July 1940.
62 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

fully the possibility to exploit the [existing] capacity of automobile manufacturing,

a capacity which we simply need regardless of whether it is Renault or Mercedes-
Benz or the Auto-Union or Citroën.

Schell’s exhortations were partly a response to resistance. If some German

companies sought to place contracts in France, especially for the produc-
tion of various vehicle parts, the German automobile industry as a whole
hesitated to encourage the recovery of its French counterpart for fear of
creating a post-war rival. For Schell, such hesitations were unacceptable.
France’s industrial potential, he intoned, should not be seen as a ‘com-
petitor’ but as a vital complement to Germany’s war effort.33
The GBK’s second priority was to begin to create a Western European
automobile industry. In brandishing this prospect, the GBK no doubt
hoped to reassure German industrialists that the current efforts to exploit
the French automobile industry would not work to their longer-term
detriment. But more was at stake. The underlying question was how to
organize Europe’s economy following Germany’s expected victory. And
this question solicited different responses within the GBK. To be sure,
everyone agreed that the German automobile industry would enjoy a
dominant position after the war. But there was far less consensus on the
question of how Germany should use this position. Schell’s views
resembled those of Göring and of the Nazi regime. He believed that the
German automobile industry must become the ‘expression of the national
socialist [Nazi] viewpoint’ – that it should be first and foremost the instru-
ment of Nazi Germany’s larger political ambitions.34 For Schell, this
meant exploiting the Occupation to construct a post-war European ‘eco-
nomic space’ that would operate to Germany’s unique benefit. The
automobile industries of other countries would not simply be subordinate
to that of Germany; they would effectively be absorbed by it. The task of
French (and other) companies would merely be to produce German
vehicles, the number and nature of which would be determined exclu-
sively by the Germans. Dictation and not collaboration would be the order
of the day. For Schell, moreover, the principal purpose of this European-
sized German automobile industry was to enable it to become competitive
(konkurrenzfähig) with the American automobile industry. Reflecting the
continentalist perspective popular in Nazi Germany at the time, he envis-
aged the European (German) and American industries locked in a post-
war duel for global supremacy – a duel that would constitute one part of a

33
MBA, Bestand Kissel, 9.28, ‘Vortrag des Generals von Schell am 4.9.1940.
(Stenogram)’, undated.
34
Adolf von Schell, ‘Nationalsozialistische Wirtschaftsformen und Kraftfahrzeugindustrie’,
Der Vierjahresplan, 3, 17 (September 1939), 571.
 The GBK 63

greater struggle between a German-dominated Europe and the United

States.35
Thoenissen’s approach was different. By 1940, Göring’s officials had
come to suspect that the GBK had been co-opted by the automobile
industry. That Thoenissen would head the German automobile industry’s
professional association after the war suggests that their suspicions were
not completely unfounded.36 But Thoenissen was never simply a spokes-
man for the German automobile industry. Like Schell, he sought to
compel German companies to collaborate with their French counterparts.
His vision of the post-war European automobile industry, however, was
markedly less unilateralist and domineering – a vision which helps to
explain his future tenure as president of the Bureau international des
constructeurs d’automobiles during the 1950s. As Thoenissen explained
in November 1940, Germany had to construct Europe’s economic future
with and not against other countries. Referring to the French automobile
industry in particular, he insisted that it should not be ‘smash[ed]’, not
only because the Germans desperately needed its productive capacity but
also because Germany’s own experience with the Versailles treaty had
shown that a punitive peace bred resentment and resistance – sentiments
that handicapped efforts at cooperation. And this was Thoenissen’s basic
point: more could be gained through collaboration than through dicta-
tion. Consequently, he envisaged the post-war European automobile
industry as a cartel in which each national industry would be assigned
particular markets and product types. Industrial rationalization would
proceed on a European-wide basis and in negotiation between the cartel’s
members; it would not simply amount to the superimposition of
Germany’s automobile industry on the others. If Germany’s voice
would undoubtedly speak louder than others, Thoenissen clearly had in
mind a form of partnership between the various countries and industries.
Significantly, he explicitly rejected Göring’s idea of exploiting the
Occupation to increase Germany’s economic presence in Europe by
taking over companies.37

35
MBA, Bestand Kissel, 9.48, ‘Ansprache des Herrn Generalmajor v. Schell vor der
Kraftfahrpresse am 24. September 1940’, undated.
36
For Göring’s officials, see Kirchberg and Bunke, Vom Horch zum Munga, 94. For
Thoenissen, see www.lexikon-der-wehrmacht.de/Personenregister/T/ThoenissenMax.
htm; and Marine Moguen-Toursel, ‘Max Thoenissen: des commandes de guerre aux
structures européennes de l’automobile’ in Olivier Dard and Gilles Richard, eds., Les
permanents patronaux: éléments pour l’histoire de l’organisation du patronat en France dans la
première moitié du XXe siècle (Metz, 2005), 125–41.
37
MBA, Bestand Kissel, 9.28, Wirtschaftsgruppe Kraftfahrzeug, ‘Niederschrift über die
Beiratssiztung am 28.11.1940’, 4 December 1940.
64 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

Once established in Paris, Thoenissen quickly made his influence

felt. Under the GBK’s aegis, representatives of the French, German
and Italian automobile industries began discussing the outlines of a
post-war international cartel in late 1940, leading to an agreement in
the spring of 1941 to create a ‘European automobile committee’
(EAC) with Thoenissen himself as president. Although conceived
with the post-war period in mind, the committee soon began to
study a variety of issues such as the division of the European market,
the reduction of vehicle types and the standardization of production
across national industries.38 Meanwhile, Thoenissen sought to build a
partnership with the French automobile industry, principally (as we
shall see) by promoting Lehideux’s COA as the GBK’s privileged
interlocutor. In partnership with the COA, he strove to profit from
the growing number of German contracts with French companies to
encourage the rationalization of the French automobile industry.
Through its allocation of contracts and scarce matériels, for example,
the GBK worked to reduce the number of companies and of vehicle
types. If one obvious goal of these efforts was to increase production
in the short term, another one was to integrate the French automo-
bile industry more closely with Germany’s, helping thereby to lay the
basis for the post-war period.
At the same time, the GBK also sought to establish its influence at the
company level. In May 1940, the German military authorities issued a
decree enabling them to appoint ‘administrative commissars’ to compa-
nies in occupied France which possessed valuable productive capacity and
whose directors were deemed potentially unreliable. Seizing an opportu-
nity, the GBK during the summer arranged for administrators to be
named to almost all French automobile companies. In principle, the
commissars enjoyed a considerable say in all aspects of a company’s
operations, though in practice their authority varied greatly depending
on the particular circumstances.39 Apparently unhappy with this flux, the
MbF issued a new decree in November 1940 which greatly widened the
commissar’s powers, paving the way for what one post-war report

38
AN 3W/234, Armand (COA) to Norguet (Ministère de la production industrielle), 7 May
1941, with attachment: ‘Comité européen de l’automobile’, undated; and ibid., ‘Entwurf
einer Geschäftsordnung der Vorläufigen Kommission für die Zusammenarbeit der
europäischen Automobilindustrie’, 27 January 1942.
39
BA-MA RW 35/256, ‘Kommissarische Verwaltungen auf Grund der Geschäftsführung’,
Wi/4, undated; AN 3W/221, ‘Note relative aux commissaires d’usines’, undated. For
extensive claims to authority, see AN Z/6NL/80, ‘Compte-rendu de l’entretien du 25
juillet 1940 avec Monsieur Jordan, Directeur-Général de la Société anonyme des auto-
mobiles Peugeot’, Cpt. Dietz, undated.
 French policy 65

described as a ‘virtual guardianship’ (tutelle).40 This new decree provoked

a sharp response from François Lehideux who had been appointed by
Vichy to head the Comité d’organisation for the French automobile
industry (COA). The result was that at the end of 1940 Thoenissen
negotiated an accord with Lehideux in which the GBK recognized the
COA as the representative of the industry with ‘full authority’ to negotiate
on behalf of its member companies. Together, the GBK and the COA
would direct industrial collaboration in the automobile industry.41
As part of the accord, Thoenissen agreed to strip the German commissars
appointed to French automobile companies of all their authority, reduc-
ing their role to that of ‘advisors’ without ‘any powers of intervention’.
In so doing, he accepted Lehideux’s assurances that French companies
would cooperate voluntarily with the Germans. No decision better
illustrates Thoenissen’s collaborative approach towards the French auto-
mobile industry. Yet just as significantly, Thoenissen insisted on one
exception: that of Ford SAF. In December 1940, he thus informed the
company that its commissars would retain considerable authority over
business operations.42 For Thoenissen, it appears, Ford SAF was an
automobile company unlike the others.

French policy
Needless to say, the French were even less prepared for the Occupation
than the Germans. If the Germans were surprised by the speed and extent
of their victory, the French were in shock. But crushing defeat could also
be an opportunity, particularly in the economic realm. As Richard Kuisel
showed, Vichy became a meeting place for an array of groups, each with its
own ideas about how to reform – or overhaul – France’s economic system.
There were the corporatists who sought to restructure the economy along
professional and functional as opposed to class lines; there were the
conservatives who wanted to re-moralize the economy, taking as their
model the supposedly non-competitive and socially integrative local com-
munity of earlier periods; there were the syndicalists who hoped to pro-
mote labour’s influence while eschewing the principle of class struggle;

40
AN Z/6NL/3, dossier 9SP, Parquet de la Cour de Justice du Département de la Seine,
‘Exposé’, 30 April 1949.
41
AN 3W/234, ‘Protocole faisant suite aux décisions prises au cours de la Conférence entre
le Colonel Thoenissen et M. Lehideux, le samedi 25 janvier 1941’, with attached note by
André Lenard, undated; and 3W/221, ‘Traduction du procès-verbal des entretiens avec
M. Lehideux les 13 et 16 Décembre 1940’, undated.
42
AN Z/6NL/80, ‘Complément à la note du 10 Octobre 1944 concernant l’activité de la
Société des automobiles Peugeot de Septembre 1939 à Septembre 1944’, undated.
66 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

and there were the modernizers who were determined to transform the
French economy into a dynamic, growth-oriented and internationally
competitive force. Initially, this last group emerged as the most influential
one, with self-described modernizers appointed to many of the leading
economic posts in the government. Quickly, however, these modernizers
found themselves overwhelmed by the crisis conditions created by the
defeat and occupation. ‘Economic survival’, Kuisel writes, ‘thus became
the dominant motive of Vichy’s political economy.’43 To be sure, the
interest in long-term ‘structural change’ did not disappear. And as
Kuisel and other scholars have shown, a variety of proposals emerged
during the Occupation years for a planned economy of one sort or
another. But under Vichy, these proposals largely remained confined to
paper, waiting to be taken up after the Liberation.44
If this general portrait rings true, it does nevertheless neglect several
aspects of the wartime story. First and foremost, it largely leaves out the
occupiers. While the occupation regime is seen as decisive in setting the
parameters within which France’s economy operated, the Germans them-
selves are accorded little direct influence on the making of French policy.
But wartime economic policy, whether French or German, was a far more
interactive process than is often portrayed. From the beginning of the
Occupation, French authorities found themselves confronted with fast-
changing developments on the ground – developments fuelled mostly by
the actions of various German actors. The pressing need to respond to
these developments would greatly shape Vichy’s economic policy, both in
its short-term and long-term goals.
Nowhere was the reactive element of French policy more evident than
in the industrial realm. The principal French actor was supposed to be the
Ministère de la production industrielle (MPI). Intended as an amalgam of
four earlier Ministries (Public Works, Commerce, Armaments and
Labour), the MPI in fact had to be built from scratch in the confused
conditions of summer 1940. Two further factors hampered its effective-
ness in industrial matters. One was the appointment of René Belin at its
head. A former secretary of the Confédération générale du travail, the
French trade union umbrella organization, Belin was predictably more
interested in social-labour issues than in production.45 Aside from the

43
Richard Kuisel, Capitalism and the State in Modern France (Cambridge, 1983), 130–1.
Also see Philip Nord, France’s New Deal: From the Thirties to the Postwar Era (Princeton,
2010), 88–115; and Gérard Brun, Technocrates et technocratie en France 1918–1945
(Paris, 1985).
44
In addition to Kuisel, see Margairaz, L’État, les finances et l’économie, I, and
Philippe Mioche, Le Plan Monnet. Genèse et élaboration, 1941–1947 (Paris, 1987).
45
René Belin, Du Secrétariat de la CGT au gouvernement de Vichy (Paris, 1978), 124–30.
 French policy 67

general goal of restarting the French economy, he appears to have had few
clear ideas of his own. The second factor was the MPI’s rivalry with the
Ministère de l’économie et des finances headed by Yves Bouthillier.
Extremely ambitious and politically savvy, Bouthillier had no intention
of confining his activities to financial issues.46 Although the MPI would
successfully resist efforts to sideline it, during the opening months of the
Occupation the ministry was in no position to impose its own stamp on
French policy – assuming, of course, that MPI officials knew what they
wanted.
Meanwhile, at the same time that Belin’s MPI struggled to find its feet
the Germans (as we saw) began to place contracts with French compa-
nies. The quickening flow of these contracts soon compelled the French
authorities to define a position. For the Vichy government, as a French
official explained to his German counterpart in September 1940, pro-
ducing for the occupiers posed several dangers, most notably among
them the risk of provoking British reprisals and of alienating French
opinion which might be ‘shocked by such intense collaboration with
Germany’.47 These dangers prompted the French authorities to try to
place limits on German contracts, particularly in terms of what could be
produced. On the basis of a recently signed law, the MPI in October
1940 issued instructions that no contracts be accepted for goods of an
‘offensive character’; the following month it reiterated the instructions,
referring this time to ‘war matériel’.48 These proposed restrictions, it is
worth recalling, mirrored those that Göring had earlier sought to impose
on the Germans, who were instructed to place contracts for ‘indirect’
and ‘unimportant’ (i.e., non-war matériel) goods. In both cases, the
restrictions proved ineffective. One problem is that they were confusing:
the distinction between offensive and non-offensive goods or even
between war and non-war matériel was far from clear-cut. That the
MPI allowed French firms to repair (but not to assemble) German
tanks underscores this point. But a bigger problem was that neither the
Germans with contracts to give nor the French companies who sought

46
One sign of Bouthillier’s expansive conception of his role was his advice during 1939–40
that France needed to scale back its war effort for fear of the economic, social and political
costs. See Centre des archives économiques et financières, Savigny-le-Temple (CAEF) B
33196, ‘Note pour le ministre’, no. 259, 4 January 1940, Bouthillier.
47
‘Procès-verbal de l’entretien entre M. Hemmen et M. de Boisanger le 24 septembre, 11
heures’, reproduced in France, La Délégation française auprès de la Commission allemande
d’armistice. Recueil de documents publié par le Gouvernement français, I (Paris, 1947), 45.
48
AN 3W/234, MPI to Lehideux (COA), 23 October 1940; and AN F 12/9962, MPI
(Service des commandes allemandes) to COA, 12 November 1940.
68 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

them appear to have paid much attention to such restrictions. Before

long, the MPI stopped referring to them altogether.49
In quietly disregarding its own restrictions on the acceptance of
German contracts the MPI was not simply bowing to reality. From the
beginning, the MPI’s driving aim was not so much to limit Franco-
German industrial collaboration as to gain an important measure of
control over the process. In part, this reflected the regime’s larger politique
de présence – the policy of affirming French authority in all spheres of
activity. But there was more to the matter than this. In the wake of defeat,
the French government embraced economic collaboration with the
Germans, convinced as it was that France’s and Europe’s future lay in a
German-dominated Europe. As Pierre Laval, Vichy’s de facto premier,
explained in August 1940 to a German interlocutor, he believed in a ‘New
Order and realized that it must be under German leadership and that
economic issues would play the most important role [in the New Order].
We [the Vichy government] are not opposed to an economic penetration
(Durchdringung) of France by Germany.’50
Admittedly, not everyone reacted as complacently as Laval did to the
prospect of German economic ‘penetration’ of France. Indeed, not with-
out some reason (as we saw), many Vichy officials strongly suspected the
occupation authorities of wanting to increase Germany’s presence in
various sectors of the French economy with a view to completely domi-
nating it. From this perspective, contracts with individual French compa-
nies could be dangerous, providing the Germans with a foothold that they
would then work to expand. Some sense of the strength of French suspi-
cions on this score is evident from a report by a French armistice com-
mission official in July 1940, which warned that the Germans seemed bent
on ‘taking over the running of industrial companies whenever it appeared
possible’.51 To counter this danger, Vichy passed a law in September
1940 empowering the MPI to appoint its own ‘provisional administrators’
to those French companies deemed incapable of directing their own

49
The MPI, in any case, allowed exemptions to the rule that French companies could not
produce war matériel for the Germans. See AN 19830589/7, MPI, ‘Note pour les
directions’, 28 December 1940.
50
See ‘Besprechung mit Ministerpräsident Pierre Laval im Hause von Marcel Ribardière
am 28. August 1940’, reproduced in Friedrich Grimm, Frankreich-Berichte 1934 bis 1944
(Bodman, 1972), 150. Also see Délégation générale du Gouvernement français dans les
territoires occupés, ‘L’opinion publique en zone occupée et certains aspects de l’attitude
allemande. Gravité de la situation’, 16 October 1940. Accessed online: www.ihtp.cnrs.fr/
prefets/.
51
‘Compte rendu no. 4 (no. 324/E.M.) du 5 au 7 juillet inclus’, 8 July 1940, H. Lacaille,
reproduced in France, La Délégation française auprès de la Commission allemande d’armistice,
I, 45.
 French policy 69

affairs. Vichy-appointed officials would presumably act as a barrier to the

Germans. The occupation authorities, however, succeeded in making
appointments conditional on their approval, and in the end the practice
was largely confined to Jewish-owned companies – a category of
companies that Vichy proved just as eager to liquidate as did the
Germans.52
In any event, whatever the suspicions of Germany’s longer-term aims,
no one on the French side disputed the importance of getting factories
working again and thus the need for industrial collaboration. As early as
July 1940, the new Vichy government announced its desire for the
‘resumption as quickly as possible of the country’s economic activity’.
Significantly, it called on the directors of companies to take the initiative in
this regard, implicitly urging them to approach the Germans.53 The
strategy for the government became one of gaining some control over
the process of industrial collaboration in order to reap the maximum
benefits possible. From the beginning, Vichy officials considered access
to France’s industrial capacity to be a valuable bargaining chip. Studies of
Vichy–German relations have rightly emphasized the importance of the
French navy and empire in this regard.54 Yet both of these amounted to
negative assets, in that the Germans, for the most part, were content to
deny their use to the enemy. French industrial production, by contrast,
was a positive asset, one which offered the Germans immediate matériel
advantages. Well aware of this, Vichy sought to extract concessions from
the occupation authorities in return for industrial collaboration. In
September 1940, the French delegation to the armistice commission
was thus informed that the principal goal in all discussions with their
German counterparts on the issue of contracts with French companies
must be to ‘obtain. . .compensation’ (contre-partie).55
Vichy initially conceived of compensation in terms of an inter-
governmental agreement to improve France’s present and future status
in a German-dominated Europe. As the instructions mentioned above

52
On the French law, see BA-MA RW 35/256, ‘Kommissarische Verwaltungen auf Grund
der Geschäftsführung’, Wi/4, undated; for Jewish companies, see Philippe Verheyde, Les
mauvais comptes de Vichy: L’aryanisation des entreprises juives (Paris, 1999).
53
The announcement was signed by Léon Noël, Vichy’s representative in Paris, and
distributed by the principal employers’ organization, the Confédération générale du
patronat français. See the file in AN Z/6NL/80.
54
Hervé Coutau-Bégarie and Claude Huan, Darlan (Paris, 1989); and Bernard
Costagliola, La marine de Vichy. Blocus et collaboration, juin 1940 – novembre 1942 (Paris,
2009).
55
AN AJ 41/530, ‘Instructions à la Délégation Française à Wiesbaden pour la conduite des
négociations concernant les fabrications de guerre et livraisons destinées à l’Allemagne’,
16 September 1940.
70 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

indicated, ‘it is necessary that the [industrial] collaboration offered by us

brings as a result an improvement in the existing [political] atmosphere
between the two countries and that it facilitates relations with the occu-
pation authorities’. This larger ambition, however, had little chance of
being realized, if only because Hitler continuously vetoed general political
negotiations with the French. One-sided concessions were all he would
accept: from the French, Hitler confided during the war, he wanted ‘acts’
and not ‘words’.56 The result was that collaboration became a wager on
the future: the French offered immediate concessions, ceding in the
process much of their bargaining power, in the hope of buying German
goodwill after the war. In the industrial realm in particular, the German
refusal to consider general political negotiations compelled the French to
adopt a more limited and focused approach to the issue of ‘compensa-
tion’. The goal now became to link concessions directly to particular
contracts. Accordingly, in the autumn of 1940 the MPI informed
French industrialists that they could accept German contracts but that
they should also demand in return sufficient supplies of raw matériels and
the release of French POWs to work in their factories.57 In the end, even
this modest goal proved elusive. In desperate need of contracts to func-
tion, French companies found themselves in a poor bargaining position.
No less importantly, the Germans, faced with their own shortages of
various matériels and convinced of the existence of untapped stocks of
resources in France, all too often either ignored requests for supplies or
reneged on their promises.58
More generally, Vichy’s goal of gaining some control over Franco-
German industrial collaboration influenced its projects for reorganizing
the French economy. Probably the most prominent measure in this regard
was the August 1940 decree which created Comités d’organisation (COs)
in various industrial and commercial sectors. Headed for the most part by
prominent business leaders and placed under the authority of the MPI,
the COs were charged with determining production capacities, distribut-
ing raw matériels, setting prices and, more generally, exercising a ‘control’
over the sector as a whole. If one aim was to combine elements of
corporatism and state dirigisme in the management of the economy,
another one was to create an instrument for the centralized direction of

56
Ralf Georg Reuth, ed., Joseph Goebbels. Tagebücher. Band 4: 1940–1942 (Munich, 2008),
26 April 1942, 1785.
57
AN F 12/9962, MPI (Service des commandes allemandes) to COA, 12 November 1940.
58
As early as the spring of 1941, the MPI was complaining that the Germans were not
respecting their promises to supply raw matériels. See AN 19830589/7, MPI, ‘Note au
sujet de l’exécution de commandes allemandes par l’industrie française’, 23 June 1941.
Also see AN 3W/226, COA to Zentra-Kraft, 10 October 1941.
 French policy 71

economic and especially industrial collaboration with the Germans. As

Belin himself explained in early 1941, the number and scope of German
contracts made it impossible to leave matters to individual companies,
which understandably were in no position to consider the larger political
and economic picture:
In these conditions, it is necessary that the state be able to oversee German
contracts, keeping statistics [on their number and nature] and watching over
them to make sure that they are carried out in a manner that conforms to the
general interest [of France] and to the legislation in existence and to the agree-
ments made with the German authorities.

The COs, the MPI continued, would provide the ‘natural framework’ for
this effort, helping to make sure that individual orders did not ‘hamper the
coherence and successful implementation’ of overall production plans.59
Another important and related measure came in September 1940 with the
creation of the Office central de répartition des produits industriels
(OCRPI), which was assigned the critical task of allocating what were
increasingly scarce matériels.60 Under the MPI’s aegis, the OCRPI would
work with and through the COs, reinforcing the latter’s role as agents of
state policy and of industrial collaboration. Referring to the OCRPI in
particular, an MPI assessment thus noted that ‘this centralization of
distribution [of matériels] will prove beneficial in periods in which raw
matériels are lacking and especially during the entire period when France
is under occupation and blockade’.61
The consensus among scholars is that the CO and OCRPI were largely
ineffective. The ‘CO-OCRPI system’ of controls, Kuisel wrote, was
‘poorly conceived and operated’ – a situation he attributed to internal
contradictions in French policy as well as to the economic crisis engen-
dered by war and occupation.62 But if the system proved disappointing, it
was also because the Germans obstructed French efforts to create a more
centralized economic structure. This is most clearly evident in the case of
the COs. In the opening months of 1941 the MPI attempted to establish
its authority over industrial collaboration by insisting that French compa-
nies with German contracts inform their COs of the details, which were
necessary to ensure the existence of a variety of conditions, among them

59
AN F 12/9962, ‘Instructions relatives aux commandes allemandes’, MPI, no. 304/A.E.,
Belin, 1 February 1941. Also see ‘Exposé des motifs de la loi du 16 août 1940’ in Collection
droit social, no. VII, 1940, 35–6.
60
For the CO and OCRPI, see Kuisel, Capitalism and the State in Modern France, 132–44;
and Margairaz, L’État, les finances et l’économie, I, 511–23.
61
AN F 37/2, ‘Projet d’organisation et de répartition des produits suivants les suggestion des
autorités allemandes’, 5 September 1940.
62
Kuisel, Capitalism and the State in Modern France, 143–4.
72 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

sufficient contingents of (German) raw matériels, regulated prices and

proper payment arrangements. When, however, the MPI duly submitted
a draft circular to the MbF for approval, the latter reacted negatively,
maintaining that the COs could only ‘advise’ and ‘support’ French com-
panies; in no way were they to possess ‘decision-making power’. MPI
officials were thus informed that the COs should have no say in the
acceptance or refusal of contracts. More generally, the military authorities
wanted to eliminate any intermediaries between German organizations
with contracts and French companies.63 Issued in August after consid-
erable discussions, the final version of the circular largely reflected the
German position. While French companies possessing German contracts
were to provide detailed monthly reports, the COs were effectively con-
strained from intervening in the negotiation of terms. Instead, the text
greatly circumscribed the COs’ role, which ‘consists simply of guiding,
advising and helping companies insofar as one of the two contracting
parties ask for its aid’.64
Not surprisingly, the German authorities were satisfied with the out-
come. They had blocked Vichy’s efforts to make the COs into instruments
of the regime’s larger political-economic goals; instead, the role of the
COs was to be limited to that of facilitating industrial collaboration
between the industry and company levels. More generally, the Germans
were confident that with weaker COs France’s economy was well on its
way to being reorganized on the ‘German model’ – even if just what this
model was remained unclear.65 At the same time, however, it is reduc-
tionist to argue, as does Annie Lacroix-Riz, that the COs were merely a
tool of the occupiers.66 If nothing else, it ignores the fact that the overall
result proved counter-productive for the Germans. In the absence of any
alternative framework, the defeat of French efforts to introduce some
centralized control over the placing of contracts ensured that general

63
See the file in AN AJ 40/776 and especially Wi II/Gen to Gruppe Wi X, no. 252/41, 18
April 1941, which contains a translated copy of the French draft; MbF to MPI
(Bichelonne), 2 May 1941; and Gruppe Wi II, ‘Besprechung mit den Herren
Bichelonne und Panié am 30. Mai 1941’, 30 May 1941; and BA-MA RW 19/562,
OKW Wi Rü Amt, no. 23174/41, 2 May 1941. Also see Arne Radtke-Delacor, ‘La
position des Comités d’organisation face aux autorités d’occupation: la pomme de dis-
corde des commandes allemandes en 1940–1941’ in Hervé Joly, ed., Les Comités d’orga-
nisation et l’économie dirigée du régime de Vichy (Caen, 2004), 63–71.
64
AN F 37/28, ‘Note’, Secrétariat d’état à la production industrielle, no. 2637, 13 August
1941, with attached draft circular.
65
See BA-MA RW 35/714, ‘Die Formen des Eingriffs in die französische Wirtschaft’,
undated; and AN F 37/28, ‘Rohstoff-Bewirtschaftung und Auftragverlagerung in
Frankreich’, undated.
66
Annie Lacroix-Riz, ‘Les Comités d’organisation et l’Allemagne: tentative d’évaluation’ in
Joly, ed., Les Comités d’organisation, 47–62.
 François Lehideux and the COA 73

ignorance and even confusion would reign concerning the situation in

France. Revealingly, in 1941 the MbF admitted that it did not possess a
‘clear picture’ of industrial activity: it could not say what percentage of
French capacity was being used by the Germans and how much
remained unused or even how many contracts had been placed with
French companies. Indeed, the German authorities would repeatedly
turn to the French for such information, only to be informed that the
latter were equally in the dark.67 Whatever their intentions, the
Germans would quickly discover that they needed the COs for
the information and coordination they could potentially provide; and
this need would make it difficult to limit their influence over industrial
policy.
Paradoxically, then, the defeat of the MPI’s attempt to strengthen the
COs did not necessarily weaken the latter. Indeed, the opposite is closer to
the truth. In vetoing the MPI’s proposals, the Germans dealt a blow above
all to the MPI’s authority rather than to that of the COs. The MPI’s initial
goal had been to use the COs as its own instrument in the politics of
industrial collaboration. Under the guidance of MPI officials, the indi-
vidual COs would engage in negotiations with corresponding industrial
and sectorial organizations on the German side, establishing the param-
eters of collaboration while also maximizing Vichy’s bargaining posi-
tion.68 In thwarting the MPI on this score, the occupation authorities
not only reduced the MPI’s influence over the COs; but in doing so they
ensured that the COs would replace the MPI as the principal collective
actor on the French side. As a result, the course of industrial collaboration
would greatly depend on the relationship between individual COs and
their German counterparts.

François Lehideux and the COA

The first CO created was for the automobile (and bicycle) industry
(COA). Taking over from the now defunct pre-war industrial organiza-
tion (the CSCA), the COA began operating in October 1940 under the
direction of François Lehideux. Lehideux was an apt choice. Though
the scion of a banking family, he possessed considerable knowledge
of the French automobile industry, having worked for several years
at Renault. Lehideux’s energy, ambition and talent, together with his

67
AN AJ 40/776, ‘Auftragserteilung und Betriebserkundung’, undated but 1941. For
French ignorance, see 3W/57, ‘Note sur les commandes allemandes’, MPI, March 1941.
68
AN 19830589/7, MPI, ‘Notes au sujet des commandes allemandes en France’, 27
January 1941.
74 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

marriage to Louis Renault’s niece, helped him to rise quickly at Renault,

eventually becoming its director-general. A bitter falling-out with Renault
during 1939–40, however, meant that Lehideux found himself unem-
ployed in the wake of France’s defeat. But not for long. In September
1940, he became head of the COA. In addition to his practical experience
in the automobile industry, Lehideux’s qualifications for this new position
included a fierce loyalty to Pétain and to Vichy’s ‘national revolution’ – the
project of remaking France anew. Indeed, long after the war Lehideux
would serve as president of an association dedicated to preserving Pétain’s
memory.69
Interestingly, Lehideux does not appear to have been Vichy’s first
choice. Instead, Baron Charles Petiet, the president of the CSCA, was
tapped to head the COA. Following discussions between German and
French officials, however, Lehideux was chosen, which suggests that
German and French authorities sought a break with the past.70 No less
importantly, however, is that Lehideux was generally viewed as someone
favourably disposed to industrial collaboration. Indeed, in early August
1940 he had brokered a deal between German military officials and
Renault by which the Germans themselves would repair tanks using the
facilities and parts provided by the company.71 It is not known whether
Lehideux actively sought the position, but once appointed he strove to
shape the comité into an instrument of his ambitions. After the Liberation
Lehideux insisted that the COA acted as a ‘screen’ and ‘barrier against
German demands’.72 As we shall see, this claim, which mirrored Pétain’s
later justification that he served as a ‘shield’ between the French people
and the German occupiers, should not be dismissed too quickly. But as
with Pétain’s justification, the problem with Lehideux’s claim is that it
paints the COA’s activities in a far too passive and reactive light. From the
outset, Lehideux sought to impose his authority over the French automo-
bile industry, rejecting the idea that the COA should content itself with

69
APP GA L10, Dossier François Lehideux, report of June 1990.
70
Jean Sauvy, Les organismes professionnels français de l’automobile et leurs acteurs 1896–1979
(Paris, 1998), 158–9; and Thoenissen’s comments in MBA, Bestand Kissel, 9.28,
Wirtschaftsgruppe Kraftfahrzeug, ‘Niederschrift über die Beiratssitzung am 28.
November 1940’.
71
AN 3W/217, ‘Memento de la réunion tenue le dimanche 4 août [1940] à 10 heures, à
l’Hôtel Majestic’, undated. After the war a top-ranking Vichy official remarked that one
reason for choosing Lehideux was his favourable attitude towards collaboration with the
Germans. See AN 3W/221, Jacques Barnaud deposition, 16 May 1945. Also see
Patrick Fridenson, ‘Syndicalisme de l’automobile: la redistribution des cartes’ in
Michel Margairaz and Danielle Tartakovsky, eds., Le syndicalisme dans la France occupée
(Rennes, 2008), 87–8.
72
AN 3W/221, Lehideux deposition, 1 March 1945.
 François Lehideux and the COA 75

simply acting as a spokesman for the industry in general or for its largest
companies in particular.
Industrial collaboration would play a critical role in Lehideux’s ambi-
tions for the COA. In short order, he built up his comité into a sizeable
organization (eventually employing 400 or so people), divided into several
sections dealing with subjects ranging from raw matériels, social issues,
legal questions, to statistics and the press; reflecting Vichy’s anti-Semitic
policies, there was also a section for ‘Jewish questions’.73 At the heart of
this sprawling organization could be found the ‘service des commandes
allemandes’, created in November 1940 and headed by Amaury de
l’Epine, a close collaborator of Lehideux. If its ostensible task was to
oversee the placing of German contracts for the industry as a whole, its
real purpose was to centralize the process within the COA, reducing if not
eliminating direct contact between German organizations and companies
on the one hand and French companies on the other.74 In so doing, the
COA (and Lehideux) would become the privileged, indeed the sole,
interlocutor of the Germans. Not surprisingly, Lehideux fully shared the
MPI’s goal of promoting the COs into powerful economic actors charged
with regulating all aspects of industrial activity – fixing overall pro-
grammes, approving and distributing contracts, allocating raw matériels,
inspecting production. For Lehideux, the COA was to be the nerve centre
of the French automobile industry’s collaboration with the Germans.75
Lehideux’s efforts on this score met with considerable success.
Mention has already been made of the accord that Lehideux negotiated
with Thoenissen at the end of 1940. Although the documentary record for
the COA’s activities is sparse, there is evidence that the COA succeeded in
imposing itself on the GBK as a collaborator and even partner.76 The
COA did so by acting as an indispensable intermediary between French
companies and various German actors. German companies seeking to
place contracts in France would inform the COA of their needs and ask it
to identify appropriate French companies; COA officials would then
contact the French companies to ask them whether they were interested
in a specific contract and under which terms, information which they then

73
See the chart in NARA T 73/2, ‘Références C.O.A.’, 17 February 1941.
74
AN 3W/52, Lehideux (COA) to Barnaud (MPI), 21 May 1941; and 3W/232, COA
circular, signed L’Epine, 10 December 1940.
75
AN AJ 40/776, COA, no. 162, signed Lehideux, 4 March 1941. During his tenure as
secretary of state for industrial production during 1941–2, Lehideux strove to augment
the COs’ authority. See AN 3W/221, ‘Circulaire aux Comités d’organisation et aux
Conseils consultatifs tripartites’, Lehideux, 18 November 1941.
76
See the run of correspondence between the COA and the GBK in 1941–2 in NARA
T 73/2.
76 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

relayed back to the German company, sometimes (but necessarily) via the
GBK. Similarly, French companies seeking work used the COA to help
locate potential German orders. Often enough, the COA also mediated
the disputes that arose between the different parties over accusations that
one or the other had not fulfilled the terms of a contract. In some cases, the
COA launched its own inquiry into the matter, reporting its findings to the
GBK. No less importantly, the COA gathered statistics on the overall
situation in the French automobile industry (number of German con-
tracts, their nature and value, etc.) – statistics which it regularly shared
with the German authorities who, as we saw, were keenly aware of their
ignorance. In a recent essay, Marcel Boldorf argued that the COs were
powerless, principally because they had no say over the distribution of raw
matériels.77 For the COA at least, his conclusion needs to be nuanced.
Although the COA had no direct sources of its own, it could influence the
quantities that it received by a variety of means, which included pressuring
the OCRPI for larger contingents, negotiating deals with other COs and
insisting that the German authorities and German companies furnish
their own supplies. In all these cases, the fact that the French automobile
industry was so heavily engaged in working for the Germans helped the
COA in its ongoing search for more matériels. All told, then, under
Lehideux’s leadership the COA became a leading and indeed invaluable
actor in industrial collaboration.
But Lehideux was not interested in promoting the COA’s influence for
its own sake. Two underlying larger goals guided his activities. The first
concerned industrial collaboration. Lehideux was a determined and com-
mitted supporter of working with the Germans. Before the war he had
sympathized with right wing political movements, most notably Colonel
La Roque’s Croix de Feu, the extent of whose fascist leanings remain a
subject of historical debate.78 But there is little reason to believe that his
commitment to collaboration stemmed from strong ideological affinities
with the occupiers. That he shared the anti-leftist and especially anti-
Popular Front prejudices of many French conservatives is indisputable;
that he was a fascist or a Nazi is a stretch. Instead, as a self-defined
pragmatist, Lehideux was motivated by the conviction that the French
must accept the reality of Germany’s victory and thus of its present and
future predominance. Vichy’s overriding task was to carve out a satisfac-
tory role for France in a German-dominated Europe. As he remarked to

77
Boldorf, ‘Die gelenkte Kriegswirtschaft im bestetzten Frankreich (1940–1944)’, 115.
78
APP GA L10, Dossier François Lehideux, report of 9 September 1940. For the debate on
the Croix de Feu, see Sean Kennedy, Reconciling France against Democracy: The Croix de Feu
and the Parti Social Français, 1927–1945 (Montreal, 2007), 4–16.
 François Lehideux and the COA 77

reporters in May 1941: ‘The driving idea of the government’s project is to

make it possible for France to use the maximum of its economic, material and
moral resources to allow it to maintain its place in the new Europe.’79 To do so,
the French would have to cooperate loyally with the Germans, embracing
what Lehideux called ‘constructive collaboration’. Addressing COA offi-
cials in November 1940 on the subject of relations with the occupiers,
Lehideux explained that ‘it is your duty to accept all personal
humiliations. . .It is unimportant if we are not always understood by
some of our countrymen: we must. . .transform defeat into victory (gagner
la défaite), and we will do so.’80
The German occupation authorities identified Lehideux as one of the
most fervent advocates of industrial collaboration within Vichy. As
Thoenissen told representatives of the German automobile industry,
Lehideux was ‘extremely energetic and clever’ and should be viewed as
‘our partner’.81 To be sure, Lehideux’s commitment to working with the
Germans set him apart from many French officials, for whom collabora-
tion was more of a stopgap. That said, Lehideux was never an uncondi-
tional partisan of Franco-German cooperation – just as he was never the
reluctant collaborator that he professed to be in his memoirs.82 Early on,
he showed himself to be uncompromising in his determination to safe-
guard French ownership of industry against the threat of German ‘pene-
tration’. Throughout the Occupation, he would categorically oppose all
measures to increase German participation in French companies, whether
through the appointment of administrators or through the purchase of
shares. No company would benefit more from this stance than Ford SAF.
In this sense, Lehideux and the COA did act as a ‘barrier’ to the Germans.
Yet his efforts in this regard need to be placed in their proper context.
Lehideux conceived of industrial collaboration in terms of a partnership
with the Germans in which both sides would benefit. The French might
not be equals but nor were they to be mere subalterns. Time and again,
Lehideux would threaten to end his collaboration when German demands
exceeded what he considered to be compatible with a partnership.

79
‘M. Lehideux délégué général à l’Équipement national, demande aux Français, pour
refaire le pays, d’avoir une mentalité des pionniers’ in La Vie industrielle, 15 May 1941, 1,
3, emphasis in original.
80
AN 3W/224, ‘Memento. Conférence de M. Lehideux aux chefs de service du C.O.A. du
18 Nov. 40’, undated. For ‘constructive collaboration’, see Michel Margairaz, ‘Les
politiques économiques de Vichy’, Histoire@Politique. Politique, culture, société, 9 (2009),
www.histoire-politique.fr.
81
MBA, Bestand Kissel, 9.28, Wirtschaftsgruppe Kraftfahrzeugindustrie, ‘Niederschrift
über die Beiratssitzung am 28. November 1940’. Also see the assessment in AN 3W/
230, Schleter (Paris) to AA (Berlin), 9 December 1941.
82
Lehideux, De Renault à Pétain, 240–3.
78 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

Certainly, one can argue that Lehideux fundamentally misunderstood

Nazi Germany’s immediate and long-term aims, which were to exploit
and to subjugate France. But it is also true that Lehideux managed over
time to construct a mutually advantageous and dependent relationship
(that is to say, a partnership) with the German authorities and with the
GBK in particular.
The second and related goal guiding Lehideux’s activities was to
revamp France’s economy and industry. It was imperative, he announced
in a September 1941 speech, ‘to rethink the French economy’, by which
he principally meant the introduction of greater state direction (dirigisme)
in all economic sectors.83 His ambitions on this score helped him to
become Vichy’s delegate-general for national (industrial) reequipment
from February 1941 and its secretary of state for industrial production
from July 1941 to April 1942. As delegate-general, Lehideux would
propose a ten-year plan which called for massive public work projects
aimed at modernizing the agricultural, energy, communications and
urban construction sectors among others. And as secretary of state he
would lobby for increased powers for the MPI in the development of
industrial production, predictably attributing a critical role in the endeav-
our to the COs.84 But it was within the bounds of the COA that
Lehideux’s ambitions to reorganize French industry found their most
tangible expression. He shared the belief, widespread within business
circles, that the French automobile industry suffered from archaic pro-
duction methods, excessive competition and general incoherence. A large
dose of rationalization was urgently required. The leading industry news-
paper defined the COA’s tasks in the following fashion: ‘It will pursue the
rationalization of the means of production through the abolition of some
companies as well as the combination of others to eliminate inefficient
competition and wastage. The aim will be to standardize the types of
vehicles offered by limiting the range of vehicles produced and normaliz-
ing systems of production.’85 For Lehideux, the Occupation represented
an opportunity as much as (if not more than) a burden. Together, German
contracts and the difficult economic situation could be used as clubs
to impose reform on an industry that had supposedly proved itself inca-
pable of changing under peacetime conditions. ‘Do not count too much

83
AN 3W/221, ‘Extraits de l’exposé de M. Lehideux Délégué Général à l’Equipement
National à la première séance du Comité Consultatif de l’Equipement national. Séance
du 9 septembre 1941’.
84
‘M. Lehideux lance un appel pour le développment de la production et définit les mesures
décidées à l’égard des Comités d’organisation et des Administrations Publiques’, La
Journée Industrielle, 29 August 1941, 1, 3.
85
‘Situation de l’industrie automobile’, La Journée Industrielle, 26–8 April 1941, 4.
 François Lehideux and the COA 79

on the help of industrialists’, Lehideux warned COA officials in 1940.

Instead, it was up to the COA to instigate ‘a complete revolution in all the
traditional methods’ that would have the effect of transforming the French
automobile industry into ‘an industrial instrument capable of integrating
itself into the European [economic] organization of the future’.86
The European automobile committee, mentioned above, combined all
three of Lehideux’s priorities: collaboration with the Germans, the
defence of French interests and the transformation of the French auto-
mobile industry. Following the Liberation of France Lehideux would
claim that his participation in the committee had simply been an empty
gesture designed to win German goodwill. At the time, however, he
manifested considerable enthusiasm for the project. Responding to
GBK suggestions in the autumn of 1940, Lehideux wasted little time,
travelling to Berlin at the end of the year to begin talks on the subject,
which he then vigorously pursued; as a result, he probably contributed
more than anyone to the creation of the EAC in the spring of 1941.87 For
Lehideux, one purpose of the committee was to safeguard the interests of
the French automobile industry. The Germans in principle committed
themselves not only to reorganize Europe’s post-war automobile industry
in cooperation with the French (and Italians), but also to preserve the
independent existence of the French industry. The agreement worked out
between French, German and Italian officials foresaw the division of the
continent’s industries and markets into three national groupings, with
each one assigned a share (that of the French was 25–30 per cent) as
well as distinct functions. During the war itself, the committee’s various
study commissions would lay the basis for the post-war reorganization at
the European and national levels, all the while embedding German indus-
try in a web of practical multinational cooperation that a victorious
Germany could not easily renounce.88 There is every indication, more-
over, that Lehideux took the wartime aspect of the committee’s work
seriously, for example devoting considerable financial resources in an
effort to breathe organizational life into the commissions. In the end, the
committee achieved little, largely because, as an Italian official remarked

86
AN 3W/224, ‘Memento. Conférence de M. Lehideux aux chefs de service du C.O.A. du
18 Nov. 40’, undated.
87
MBA, Bestand Kissel, 9.32, Wirtschaftsgruppe Kraftfahrzeugindustrie, ‘Tätigkeitsber-
icht der Geschäftsführung’, no. 6/40, 12 January 1941; also see AN 3W/230, ‘Aktenver-
merk. Besprechung mit Herrn Lehideux am 15. und 12.12.1940’; and ibid.,
‘Uebersetzung der Aktennotiz betreffend Konferenz vom 18. Dezember 1940 beim
Comité d’organisation de l’automobile’, Lehideux, undated.
88
‘Quelques précisions sur l’accord international de Berlin’, La Journée Industrielle, 5 August
1941, 4.
80 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

in 1942, it was becoming increasingly difficult to imagine what post-war

Europe would resemble.89 But whatever the reasons for the EAC’s relative
failure, it cannot be attributed to a lack of interest on Lehideux’s part.
If Lehideux heavily invested his time and the COA’s resources in the
EAC, his cooperation with the Germans did not end there. On several
occasions during 1940–1, he travelled to Berlin to discuss the details of
wartime collaboration between the French and German automobile
industries. Not surprisingly, Vichy authorities pressed the COA’s chief
to demand political and economic concessions from the Germans in
return for making available the productive capacity of French compa-
nies.90 But in 1940–1, Lehideux was less interested in extracting imme-
diate concessions than he was in establishing the foundations for long-
term cooperation between the COA and the GBK – a cooperation that
would pave the way for a larger Franco-German industrial partnership
after the war. Like Thoenissen, Lehideux foresaw the post-war period in
terms of regional economic blocs, one of which would be European.
‘Whatever the outcome of the war’, he explained in February 1941,
‘Europe will ineluctably have to organize itself in the economic realm;
the [national] European markets are too narrow for industries to survive.’
Interestingly, Lehideux’s vision of economic blocs had a distinct anti-
American colouring: ‘if Europe does not organize, the United States will
enrich itself at European expense. Europe must organize to meet the
American challenge, and in this Europe we have a central role to play on
both the economic and the intellectual front.’91 Through wartime indus-
trial collaboration, the French and Germans would together construct a
European economy capable of competing with the United States.
By the spring of 1941, Lehideux was confident that his ambitions were
well on the way to being realized. In March, he signed a protocol with
Thoenissen, finalizing the accord worked out between the COA and GBK
at the end of 1940.92 With the protocol, Lehideux believed that the GBK
had fully accepted the COA as its partner. The two organizations would
jointly establish overall production programmes for the French automo-
bile industry and would be responsible for ensuring their execution.

89
AN 3W/234, G. Acutis (Associazione fragli Industriali dell Automobile) to Thoenissen,
21 May 1942.
90
See BA-MA RW 24/3, Wirtschafts- und Rüstungs Stab Frankreich, ‘Bericht der
Ereignisse’, 11 March 1941; and AN 3W/52, ‘Réunion avec M. Lehideux’, 13 May 1941.
91
AN 3W/217, ‘Conférence d’Information. I. La lutte contre le chômage’, École libre des
sciences politiques, Lehideux, 7 February 1941.
92
AN 3W/52, Lehideux to Barnaud (MPI), 1 April 1941, with attachment: ‘Conditions
pour la passation de commandes par l’industrie allemande à l’industrie française’,
undated.
 Ford SAF in 1940 81

Lehideux hoped to expand this shared responsibility to encompass the

allocation of contracts as well as of scarce raw matériels and even labour.93
More generally, Lehideux viewed the protocol as a first step in his larger
political and economic project of constructing a post-war Europe, a
project in which the French automobile industry stood at the vanguard.
Speaking to journalists in May 1941, he thus enthused that ‘here, within
the COA, we are more than a little pleased that it is the automobile
industry that is the first to embark on the road towards a new order [in
Europe]’.94
As we saw, Lehideux’s enthusiasm was not entirely misplaced. The
COA quickly established its importance, becoming a vital intermediary
between German authorities and companies on the one hand and French
companies on the other. Its working relations with the GBK did foster a
mutual dependence. Yet Lehideux held an exaggerated idea of his ability
to shape developments. Whatever Thoenissen’s promises, the Germans in
general considered the COA to be a useful instrument for exploiting
France’s industrial capacity more than they did a partner in reconstruct-
ing Europe’s economy. No sooner had the ink dried on the protocol than
the GBK itself was seeking to bypass the COA and to deal directly with
French companies – much to Lehideux’s displeasure. But Lehideux was
no dupe. Notwithstanding his obvious satisfaction with the accord
between the GBK and the COA, Lehideux realized that success would
demand constant vigilance and effort. The relationship between the COA
and the GBK was a dynamic one in which Lehideux would combine
cooperation and confrontation in varying doses. On no issue would this
mixed approach be more evident than on that of Ford SAF’s future – an
issue that figured prominently in the negotiations between the COA and
the GBK during 1940–1.

Ford SAF in 1940

As we saw, it was rearmament in the late 1930s which not only saved Ford
SAF from its immediate financial difficulties, allowing it to fund the
construction of the Poissy complex; rearmament also beckoned a promis-
ing future of profitable production as the government became the com-
pany’s principal client. From this perspective, the onset of the war in
September 1939 was a welcome development. Indeed, the Phony War
was a period of immense optimism for Ford SAF. Although the

93
AN 3W/221, ‘Aktennotiz über das Ergebnis der Besprechung im GBK während des
Berliner Aufenhaltes von Herrn Lehideux vom 1.-6.4.1941’, undated.
94
AN 3W/221, ‘Extraits du Journal “Le Matin” du 4 Mai 1941’, undated.
82 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

mobilization meant the loss of numerous workers and administrative

personnel, Ford SAF was able to ensure the release of workers from the
army and to recruit others, thanks in large part to the company’s impor-
tance to France’s war effort. In April 1940, the company had over 2,500
workers. During 1939–40, the production of trucks (mostly 5-ton) for the
French army gradually expanded, reaching 44/day in March 1940, a
figure Dollfus claimed would soon increase to 50, if not more. While
awaiting the completion of Poissy, parts for these trucks were made at the
Bordeaux factory and then shipped to Asnières for final assembly. At the
same time, the company had received expanding orders from the Air
Ministry, principally for Hispano-Suiza airplane engines and engine
parts but also for airplane canon. By the spring of 1940, Ford SAF had
begun making some engine parts at Bordeaux and Poissy, even if the
production of engines was not expected to begin for another six months.95
All told, on the eve of Germany’s offensive in the West the outlook for
Ford SAF looked exceedingly bright.
Germany’s lightning-quick victory in May–June 1940 changed every-
thing. At the beginning of June, the French government instructed
Dollfus to begin transferring machinery and stocks from Poissy to
Bordeaux, which was largely and quickly accomplished despite the grow-
ing chaos. On 10 June, Dollfus received the additional order to evacuate
Asnières together with all male workers aged eighteen to forty, and to
relocate to Bordeaux within two days; but this task proved impossible and
the company had to leave behind almost all of its moveable matériel.
Although none of Ford SAF’s factories were damaged during the military
campaign, the company did not get off unscathed. At Poissy, there
remained little for the Germans to seize as the complex had effectively
been stripped; at Asnières, by contrast, German troops not only took
control of the factory but also pillaged machines, parts and completed
trucks. Several days later, German commissars were appointed to both
Poissy and Asnières, and they immediately put an end to illegal seizures –
i.e., undocumented confiscation. With Ford SAF now centred exclusively
in Bordeaux, Dollfus faced a difficult situation as refugees flooded in,
overwhelming the city’s administration and infrastructure and rendering
production all but impossible. Following the armistice, in any case, activ-
ity at the Bordeaux factory came to an official halt.96

95
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 243, Dollfus telegram to Ford Dearborn, 15 September 1939;
and ACC 6, Box 248, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 4 March 1940.
96
See AP, Ford SAF, DOS 2008 RE-30422, Ford SAF, ‘Rapport sur la vie de Ford S.A.F.
pendant la guerre (1er Septembre 1939 – 1er Novembre 1944)’, and BFRC, FMC, ACC
6, Box 248, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 18 July 1940.
 Ford SAF in 1940 83

From the beginning, Dollfus was determined to get Ford SAF working
again. At the beginning of July 1940, he received authorization from the
German authorities to return to Paris; once there, he immediately set out
to regain control of Poissy and Asnières. This proved relatively easy as
Thoenissen, the GBK’s representative in Paris, was eager to exploit the
productive capacity of the French automobile industry. Before the month
was out, he could telegram to Ford Dearborn that ‘we are already resum-
ing production on [sic] trucks on a small scale’, adding that this was ‘in
accordance with desire of both French and German authorities’.97 Over
the next several weeks, Dollfus threw himself into a round of meetings and
negotiations with French and German officials, travelling not only to
Vichy but also to Berlin, where he discussed Ford SAF’s future directly
with the GBK’s chief, General Schell. The result of all this activity was an
agreement with the GBK signed in early August 1940. In return for the
promise to cooperate fully with the occupiers, Ford SAF was allowed to
take over the direct running of its factories, though German administra-
tors would remain for the time being. After the Liberation, Dollfus would
insist that he had made his approval conditional on not producing war
matériel, telling the Germans that this contradicted American interests.
Whether true or not, this proviso was largely irrelevant since the GBK
wanted Ford SAF to concentrate on what it was already making – i.e.,
trucks.98 By the end of August, the company was assembling 10–12
trucks/day, which Dollfus hoped to increase to 20, though he admitted
that this would depend on sufficient supplies of matériels. Soon after-
wards, the company received a contract from the Germans to build 2,500
trucks for 1940 at an eventual rate of 500/month.99
It is worth underscoring how quickly and adeptly Ford SAF adapted to
the changed situation brought about by France’s defeat. Notwithstanding
the initial chaos and uncertainty of enemy occupation, Dollfus in a matter
of weeks had seemingly assured the company’s future. As he wrote in early
August 1940: ‘There is no doubt that whatever happens in the future, the
activity of the Company will remain in France as one of the three or four
big concerns existing here.’100 Part of this success can be attributed to the
strong backing Ford SAF received from the French government. At

97
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 248, Dollfus telegram, 3–5 July 1940; and ACC 606, Box 6,
Dollfus telegram, 22 July 1940.
98
AN 3W/221, Dollfus deposition, 9 November 1944; and BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 248,
Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 31 August 1940.
99
AN AJ 40/610, ‘Bericht des stellvertretenden Verwalters für die Firma Ford Société
Anonyme Française. . .über die Gesellschaft nach dem Stand von Juli 1942’, 6 August
1942.
100
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 248, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 2 August 1940.
84 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

Vichy, Dollfus enthused, ‘I have obtained the best possible cooperation

from everybody. . .and I can confirm to you that we shall have the best
protection that can be obtained for a purely French concern.’ As a con-
crete sign of its support, the French government accorded Ford SAF an
advance of 20,000,000 francs to help finance its efforts to restart produc-
tion.101 But much of Ford SAF’s success in adapting to the German
occupation was also due to Ford-Werke, the German member of Ford’s
European empire. In June 1940, the GBK appointed Robert Schmidt,
Ford-Werke’s general director, to be the commissar of both the Poissy and
Asnières factories. Soon afterwards, Schmidt and his collaborators
arranged for Dollfus’ return to Paris and then helped to persuade
Thoenissen (who admittedly needed little persuading) that the Germans
would be better served by leaving Ford SAF under French management.
Dollfus was extremely grateful for this help, informing Ford Dearborn
that he was working closely with Schmidt and that they shared a ‘complete
understanding’ on all important matters. More generally, Dollfus took
considerable comfort in the knowledge that Ford SAF was not alone when
it came to dealing with the occupation authorities. ‘Naturally the advan-
tages that we have are because we belong to the Ford family’, he intimated
in October 1940, ‘advantages which we cannot over estimate in the
present circumstances’.102

Ford-Werke’s European designs

Notwithstanding Dollfus’ understandable satisfaction with the immediate
course of events following France’s military defeat, Ford SAF’s relations
with the Germans quickly proved contentious. The principal difficulty
came not from the GBK but from Ford-Werke. Established in Germany
as a joint stock company in 1925, Ford’s German branch (Ford AG) was
initially owned by Ford Britain before becoming a direct subsidiary of
Ford Dearborn, which possessed the majority of its shares. Following a
slow start, Ford AG grew quickly during the 1930s; although it remained
considerably smaller than Ford Britain, by 1938 Ford AG was the largest
member of Ford’s continental European empire, easily outpacing Ford
SAF in terms of production.103 Much as with Ford SAF, as an American-
owned company Ford AG faced a variety of discriminatory measures
during the inter-war years, not least from other companies in the
German automobile industry who were eager to weaken a rival. But the

101
Ibid., Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 18 July 1940.
102
Ibid., Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 21 August and 11 October 1940.
103
See the figures in Wilkins and Hill, American Business Abroad, 436.
 Ford-Werke’s European designs 85

arrival of the Nazis in 1933 profoundly altered the situation as the company
came under increasing nationalist pressure. Even the favourable reputation
that Henry Ford, a notorious anti-Semite, enjoyed among high-ranking
officials, including Hitler, proved of little help in this respect.104 Ford AG
found itself forced to launch a concerted effort to distinguish itself as a
German as opposed to foreign (American) company. Ford-Werke, its
directors would retrospectively explain, ‘is. . .German and has always been
German’. Since the 1930s Ford-Werke ‘[h]as. . .systematically developed
into a purely German enterprise with all the responsibilities [this entails]
and with such success that the American majority shareholders, independ-
ently of the favourable political attitude towards us of Henry Ford, have
become a positive asset for the German economy’.105 The measures taken by
Ford AG ranged from the purely symbolic to the more substantial: changing
the company’s name in 1939 to the more German-sounding Ford-Werke;
the increasing use of local suppliers as part of a ‘made in Germany’
campaign; eliminating foreigners (and Jews) from its board of directors;
reducing Ford Dearborn’s ownership from 75 per cent to 52 per cent; and
cutting formal ties with Ford Dearborn.106
Ford-Werke’s efforts on this score met with considerable success. In a
gesture whose meaning was lost on no one, Hitler in 1936 made a point of
visiting the Ford display at the international automobile exhibition in
Berlin. The following year, the agency responsible for the advertising
industry identified Ford AG as a German company – a label the
Economics Ministry confirmed.107 This allowed Ford AG to compete
for military contracts, and soon the company was producing increasing
numbers of trucks and troop carriers for the Wehrmacht at its Cologne
and Berlin factories. Interestingly, in working for the Wehrmacht, Ford
AG’s directors found themselves compelled to relax their earlier

104
Daimler-Benz, for example, waged a campaign against Ford AG throughout the 1930s,
denouncing it as a non-German company. See the file in MBA, Bestand Kissel, 11.5.
105
Ford-Werke to Reichskommissar für die Behandlung feindlichen Vermögens, 18 June
1941, reproduced in Witich Roβmann, ed., Vom mühsamen Weg zur Einheit. Lesebuch zur
Geschichte der Kölner Metall-Gewerkschaften. Quellen und Dokumente 2: 1918–1951
(Hamburg, 1991), 356–8.
106
For Ford-Werke, see Simon Reich, Research Findings about Ford-Werke under the Nazi
Regime (Dearborn, MI, 2001), 5–14; and Hanns-Peter Rosellen, ‘. . .und trotzdem
vorwärts’. Die dramatische Entwicklung von Ford in Deutschland 1903 bis 1945
(Frankfurt, 1986), 61–163. Among American companies in Germany during the
1930s, Ford AG was by no means alone in trying to strengthen its German identity.
See Alexander Schug, ‘Missionare der globalen Konsumkultur: Corporate Identity
und Absatzstrategien amerikanischer Unternehmen in Deutschland im frühren 20.
Jahrhundert’ in Wolfgang Hardtwig, ed., Politische Kulturgeschichte der
Zwischenkriegszeit 1918–1939 (Göttingen, 2005), 323–30.
107
Rosellen, ‘. . .und trotzdem vorwärts’, 146.
86 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

resistance to the Nazi regime’s policy of standardizing production. In line

with Ford Dearborn’s general policy, Ford AG had long insisted on
maintaining Ford production norms. Among the advantages of the latter
was that they facilitated the integration of various Ford companies in
different countries and continents into a global production process.
During the late 1930s, Ford AG would benefit from this process, import-
ing parts from other Ford factories in Europe as well as in the United
States.108 Nevertheless, as Ford AG and then Ford-Werke’s production
became more ‘German’, disagreements arose with other Ford companies
over the fixing of norms – disagreements that pointed to the future
difficulties that Ford-Werke would confront in mobilizing Ford’s
European empire for its own ends.
As with Ford SAF, during the late 1930s and up to 1940 Ford-Werke
found itself pulled in contrary directions. As part of Ford’s European
empire, Ford-Werke was one element of a larger international and even
transnational business enterprise in which various companies exchanged
expertise, personnel, parts and even assembled vehicles on a regular basis.
As late as 1938–9 Ford-Werke and Ford SAF were cooperating on the
development of a moderately priced and smallish (4-cylinder) passenger
car, the Taunus, which Dollfus in particular appeared eager to introduce
to the French market. Yet at the same time, Ford-Werke (like Ford SAF)
was forced to become more nationally rooted in response to the growing
nationalism affecting politics and economics. The company’s participa-
tion in German rearmament during the 1930s reinforced this process, as
did the onset of war, which not only restricted communications with Ford
Dearborn but also offered an opportunity for greater autonomy, if not
outright independence. Writing to Ford Dearborn in November 1939,
Heinrich Albert, the chairman of Ford-Werke’s board, explained that
government regulations made it impossible for him to consult in advance:
‘As the situation is changing continuously we have to make up our mind
almost daily about one matter or another of some importance.’ Although
he reassured the Americans that ‘we shall protect your property and your
interests and shall always act in the spirit in which you want to run the
business’, his message was clear: Ford-Werke would determine its current
and longer-term direction largely on its own.109
Crucially, Ford-Werke’s growing autonomy coincided with Nazi
Germany’s efforts to create a European empire by conquest beginning
in 1938, opening new and even dizzying prospects for the company.

108
Reich, Research Findings about Ford-Werke under the Nazi Regime, 19–21, 24–8.
109
BFRC, Ford-Werke, FMC 0003162–63, Heinrich Albert (Ford-Werke) to Sorensen,
27 November 1939.
 Ford-Werke’s European designs 87

Rather than being merely a prominent member of Ford’s European

operations, Ford-Werke could become the centre of its own continental
empire. Tellingly, Ford-Werke moved energetically in 1939–40 to seize
ownership of patents belonging to the Ford companies in Austria,
Czechoslovakia, Poland and Hungary – countries that were all under
Nazi Germany’s thumb in one way or another. Although explaining that
it was acting to prevent the confiscation of these patents by the German
government, Ford-Werke also sought to keep them out of the hands of
Ford Britain.110 But it was the German occupation of most of Western
Europe in 1940 that profoundly altered matters, if only because the largest
Ford companies (with the exception of Ford Britain) were located there.
The question was, how would Ford-Werke respond to this new situation –
and opportunity?
As we shall see, Dollfus soon became convinced that Ford-Werke
intended to take control of the various Ford companies in Europe, ren-
dering them completely subordinate. Ford-Werke’s directors, by con-
trast, would insist that Dollfus was paranoid and duplicitous. The truth
appears to lie somewhere in between, though perhaps closer to Dollfus’
version than to that of Ford-Werke. To understand the situation in 1940
one must begin with Robert Schmidt, Ford-Werke’s general director.
Appointed to the position in 1937, Schmidt soon emerged as the domi-
nant force, partly because the other co-director was a non-German (a
Dane) and also because, as a member of the Nazi party, he enjoyed good
relations with the regime. Exceedingly ambitious for himself and for his
company, Schmidt found himself hampered by Ford-Werke’s limited size
and capacity: despite recent growth, it remained a relatively minor player
in the German automobile industry, possessing less than 10 per cent of
market share in 1939, well behind several companies, including Opel
(GM).111 If Ford-Werke wanted to expand further, one obvious way of
doing so was to incorporate the other Ford companies in Europe.
Sensing an opportunity, Schmidt arrived in France in the summer of
1940 in the wake of the German army. His representatives acted quickly,
seizing control of Ford SAF’s Asnières plant and confiscating various
goods which they then shipped to Ford plants in Anvers and
Amsterdam. Meanwhile, Schmidt not only managed to get himself
appointed as the administrator of Ford Belgium and Holland (as well as
France), but in late June 1940 he also signed an accord with Thoenissen
and the GBK authorizing him to create a ‘uniform [production]

110
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 248, Schmidt (Ford-Werke) to Ford Dearborn, 23 April
1940.
111
Von Scherr-Thoss, Die deutsche Automobilindustrie, 328.
88 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

programme’ for trucks that would involve all the Ford companies in
occupied Europe and, just as importantly, would be directed by Ford-
Werke. Ford factories in France, Belgium and Holland would all produce
inter-changeable truck parts and sections, exchanging matériel, machines
and finished products with each other depending on local needs.
Although all four companies would be involved in production, Ford-
Werke and Ford SAF would assemble the trucks, a decision that reflected
their greater size. Consistent with the wishes of the GBK, which wanted
the French industry to shift towards the exclusive production of German
vehicles, Schmidt’s programme would make Ford-Werke trucks,
although Ford SAF would be allowed to continue to make its own 5-ton
and 3-ton trucks insofar as their various parts were compatible with
German types. The programme also called for Ford SAF’s activities to
be centralized at Poissy, where production would gradually increase to
500 complete trucks/month as well as parts for 500 more, the vast majority
of which would be shipped to Ford factories in Holland and Belgium.
Interestingly, Schmidt recognized that this programme posed consider-
able challenges to Ford SAF in terms of adapting its current production
programmes. Nevertheless, he was confident that Ford SAF would do its
part, reporting in September 1940 that ‘due to the close co-operation of
everybody concerned it has come to a final plan which seems to work
alright and with fair financial results for the companies involved’.112
Ford-Werke justified its initiative and Schmidt’s ‘uniform programme’
as the best available option. It would maintain the independence of the
various companies while allowing them to keep producing non-war
matériel – i.e., trucks. The German occupation of Western Europe,
Albert explained in November 1940,
put us before the great problem of how plants which depended entirely on your
[Ford Dearborn] assistance and – in the case of France at least partly – on
American supplies of machines and matériel could be kept alive or be restored
to life, and that even in their former own line of production instead of war
matériel.113
No less importantly, Albert insisted that Schmidt’s programme offered
the various Ford companies valuable safeguards against the rapacious
instincts of the German authorities: Ford Europe’s integration into the

112
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 255, Schmidt (Ford-Werke) to Edsel Ford, 19 September
1940; ibid., NARA 0001167, ‘Preliminary Investigation of Ford Werke A.G. (External
Assets – Germany)’, 21 June 1945, which contains Robert Schmidt to Lord Perry, 28
May 1945; and AN 3W/230, Schmidt (Ford-Werke) to Voekler (GBK), 20 December
1940.
113
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 248, Heinrich Albert to Edsel Ford, 16 November 1940.
 Ford-Werke’s European designs 89

German war effort would help to counteract the temptation for the
Germans to exploit the Occupation to eliminate foreign (and especially
American) companies. Thanks largely to Schmidt, Albert had earlier
argued, Ford-Werke had not only ensured the continued survival and
independence of the Ford companies in occupied Europe; it had also
provided a model of industrial collaboration in which local companies
would work for the occupiers under their own management – and under
the loose supervision of a German company.
What Schmidt had done (at the beginning not without doubts and hesitations on
the part of the authorities) has been done in the Ford spirit. . .and in the expect-
ation of the loyal cooperation of the managers [of the Ford companies]. The
authorities have approved of this method and shall adopt it now in France gen-
erally from the beginning of the next year on.114
In many ways, Ford-Werke’s arguments made sense. It was Schmidt who
had used his influence as administrator of Ford SAF, Belgium and
Holland, to have Dollfus and other managers ‘reinstated’; and it was
Schmidt who persuaded Thoenissen of the value of Ford Europe’s poten-
tial contribution to the German war effort, thereby precluding the risk of a
German take-over. It was also true that if the Ford companies in occupied
Europe wanted to keep their factories running and their workers
employed, they had no alternative but to work for the Germans. In
1940, in other words, Schmidt’s ‘uniform programme’ was an attractive
proposition. And yet far more was at stake. It is impossible to separate
Ford-Werke’s immediate aim, which was to restart production at the
various Ford companies, from the larger context created by Germany’s
military victories in the West. As with many officials within Nazi
Germany, the company’s directors believed that Europe stood at the
dawn of a new political and economic order. Admittedly, there was no
consensus on what this new Europe would look like, and Ford-Werke’s
directors doubtlessly opposed the more dirigiste inclinations of the GBK’s
General Schell.115 But everyone agreed that a future Europe would be
dominated by Germany. As Albert prophesied in September 1940:
It is, of course, somewhat early to discuss what should be done after the war. But
not only in official quarters but also in business circles, the opinion prevails that a
radical change will take place after the war economically and that the German
sphere of interest will be immensely enlarged whatever the political settlement may
be. It is assumed that the grater [sic], if not the whole, of Europe will economically
form one unit and that import and export will be possible only according to a

114
Ibid., Heinrich Albert to Edsel Ford, 11 July 1940.
115
For Schell’s dirigiste inclinations, see MBA, Bestand Kissel, 9.48, ‘Ansprache des Herrn
Generalmajor v. Schell vor der Kraftfahrpresse am 24. September 1940’.
90 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

uniform plan and that also in the motorcar business a united program. . .may have
to be set up for the whole of Europe, Germany taking the lead.

For Albert, it was self-evident that this German-dominated Europe

implied a profound reconfiguration of the relations between the various
Ford companies on the continent, with Ford-Werke replacing Ford
Dearborn as the nerve centre of activity.116
This reconfiguration necessarily entailed the subordination of the Ford
companies in occupied Europe to Ford-Werke. Just as pertinently, how-
ever, the latter could not simply take over these companies – or at least not
yet. Before December 1941, they were majority owned by nationals of a
country (the United States) that was not at war with Nazi Germany; even
afterwards, as we shall see, the Nazi regime proved reluctant to seize
private property, even when it was enemy-owned. For Ford-Werke,
accordingly, the short-term task became that of preparing the groundwork
for its post-war supremacy. And this is precisely what Schmidt’s ‘uniform
programme’ would achieve. In the meantime, there were advantages to
remaining tied to Ford Dearborn, among them continued access (how-
ever limited) to American expertise, methods and technology. But the
biggest advantage is that it would help to dampen the potential resistance
of the different Ford companies, thereby facilitating the longer-term goal
of bringing them under Ford-Werke’s control. ‘As long as Ford-Werke
A.G. have an American majority’, Albert would argue in November 1941,
‘it will be possible to bring the remaining European Ford companies
under German influence, namely that of Ford-Werke A.G., and thus to
implement [Germany’s] policy of continental empire (Grossraumpolitik).
As soon as the American majority is eliminated, each Ford company in
every country will fight for its individual existence.’117

Ford SAF’s response

Dollfus was initially pleased with Schmidt’s ‘uniform programme’. In
September 1940, he described the latter ‘as a good one from a general

116
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 248, Heinrich Albert to Edsel Ford, 18 September 1940.
Also see Johannes Reiling, Deutschland Safe for Democracy? Deutsch-amerkanische
Beziehungen aus dem Tätigkeitsbereich Heinrich F. Alberts, kaiserlicher Geheimrat in
Amerika, erster Staatssekretär der Reichskanzlei der Weimarer Republik, Reichsminister,
Betreuer der Ford-Gesellschaften im Herrschaftsgebiet des Dritten Reiches 1914 bis 1945
(Stuttgart, 1997), 403–4.
117
BFRC, Ford-Werke, NARA 0000001–0000539, ‘Report on the Ford Werke
Aktiengemeinschaft’, which includes ‘Memo über die Ford-Werke A.G. unter dem
Gesichtspunkte, ob eine vollständige Verdeutschung notwendig oder auch zur
zweckmässig ist’, 25 November 1941, Albert.
 Ford SAF’s response 91

point of view’, permitting Ford SAF ‘to obtain certain parts’ now unavail-
able from other sources as well as offering the company ‘to a large extent
protection against any requisitions for other than Ford purposes by the
German authorities’. Two months later, however, Dollfus had changed
tack, maintaining to Ford Dearborn that Ford-Werke was providing a
‘one-sided picture’ and ‘could not be trusted’.118 Tensions, in fact, had
been brewing between the French and German companies for several
weeks. One issue of contention concerned the seizure of raw matériels and
other supplies from Asnières in June 1940, which Ford SAF eventually
valued at between 15 and 17 million francs. Dollfus dwelt almost obses-
sively on this issue, insisting that Ford-Werke either offer compensation
or return what it had taken. Schmidt refused to do either, adding insult to
injury by admitting that many of the seized goods had been sent to
Germany and subsequently lost and not, as he originally claimed, deliv-
ered to the Ford factories in Belgium and Holland.119 Another conten-
tious issue involved exports. During the autumn of 1940, Ford SAF began
producing and shipping truck parts to Ford Germany, Holland and
Belgium; this raised the question of how to designate these shipments.
Schmidt’s representative in France claimed that cross-border transfers of
goods between Ford companies should not be considered as exports and
thus did not fall under French commercial laws. Although this position
arguably benefited Ford SAF by exempting the company from export
taxes, it also meant that shipments were not subject to prior approval
from French authorities. Eager to retain some control over Germany’s
burgeoning use of French industrial capacity, Vichy had passed legisla-
tion, providing it with a veto over all exports. For Dollfus, this legislation
constituted a potential defence against what he viewed as excessive
demands by Ford-Werke on Ford SAF.120
The issue of prices provoked further disputes. From the outset, it was
Ford-Werke that determined the price of parts that Ford SAF sold to
other Ford companies, which in principle amounted to fix costs plus
12 per cent. In reality, however, the situation was more complicated.
The set price amounted to significantly less than Ford SAF could have
got from the Wehrmacht in France; meanwhile, Ford-Werke priced its
own (admittedly more limited) shipments of parts to Ford SAF at
double what it paid. One problem stemmed from the over-valued

118
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 248, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 12 September and 27 November
1940.
119
BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, Box 69, Schmidt to Dollfus, 30 November 1940.
120
AN 3W/234, Schmidt to Dollfus, 17 October 1940; and ibid., Albert (Ford-Werke) to
Legrand (Ford SAF), 6 November 1940.
92 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

German currency that provided Ford-Werke with a decided advantage

in its dealings with the various Ford companies in occupied Europe.
Ford SAF, in fact, accused its German counterpart of engaging in
arbitrage at its expense. But the accusations did not end there. In
Dollfus’ telling, Ford-Werke was systematically defrauding not only
Ford SAF but also the German authorities: the German company
apparently bought parts from Ford SAF and other Ford companies at
undervalued prices and then sold the assembled product (mostly
trucks) to the Wehrmacht at greatly inflated prices.121
But for Dollfus all these issues were merely symptoms of a more basic
problem: the threat that Ford-Werke posed to Ford SAF’s independence.
Having spent a good deal of the pre-war period struggling to escape from
Ford Dearborn’s tight control, Dollfus was not about to allow Ford SAF
to become a satellite of Ford-Werke. Indeed, as one of Dollfus’ close
collaborators remarked after the war, preserving Ford SAF’s ‘independent
operations’ became the ‘Bible’ during the war.122 From this perspective,
what is surprising is not that Dollfus grew convinced that Ford-Werke
constituted a mortal danger but that he initially endorsed Schmidt’s ‘uni-
form programme’. And this draws attention to another point: Dollfus was
not opposed in principle to working for the Germans. Indeed, if anything,
the opposite is true. During the opening months of the Occupation, he
happily welcomed German contracts, viewing them as a means not simply
of tiding over Ford SAF during a difficult period but also more ambi-
tiously of developing the company into a leading member of the French
automobile industry.
Determined to resist Ford-Werke’s project to create its own European
empire, Dollfus pursued a multi-pronged strategy. One prong was to solicit
Ford Dearborn’s help in reining in Ford-Werke. Thus, while the latter
reassured the Americans that it was acting in their best interests, Dollfus
sought to disabuse Ford Dearborn, presenting Schmidt in particular as a
double-crossing schemer. Portraying himself as a genuine defender of Ford
Dearborn, Dollfus argued that ‘the future organization of the Ford compa-
nies’ in Europe should be a matter for the Americans to decide after the war;
meanwhile, during the war itself, the priority should be on preserving the
independence of the various Ford companies.123 Dollfus enjoyed some
success in this endeavour. In October 1941, Edsel Ford intimated to
Albert that ‘a general rearrangement of the ownership of our Continental

121
AN 3W/234, Dollfus to Lehideux, 11 December 1940; and ibid., untitled note from the
COA’s Service des commandes allemandes, 10 December 1940.
122
BFRC, FMC, ACC 880, Box 6, ‘Conversation with M. Lesto, 6/9/60’.
123
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 248, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 27 November 1940.
 Ford SAF’s response 93

businesses may be required’ and even asked for ‘his thoughts and sugges-
tions’ on the matter. Yet, influenced by Dollfus’ arguments, he soon revised
his position, informing Dollfus in January 1941 that Ford Dearborn fully
approved of ‘your suggestion regarding the status of the various
Continental European countries’ and shared ‘your desire that the French
companies remain independent’. Predictably, Dollfus wasted little time in
conveying this information to Ford-Werke.124
In a related move, Dollfus sought to convince Ford Dearborn that
North Africa held enormous promise as a post-war market. In
December 1940, Ford SAF’s board decided to empower Dollfus to set
up a subsidiary company in Algeria; not long afterwards, the company
purchased land in Oran for this purpose.125 To be sure, Dollfus had been
interested in the idea of an African subsidiary since the 1930s, but little
had been done before the outbreak of war.126 The Occupation, however,
breathed new life into the project. From the outset, Vichy authorities were
eager to ‘modernize’ Algeria, elaborating far-reaching plans for its indus-
trialization – plans which solicited a positive response from several com-
panies, including Ford SAF.127 But Dollfus was not simply responding to
Vichy’s call. The emphasis on North Africa’s post-war potential also
needs to be understood as an effort to present an alternative to Ford-
Werke’s ambitions to reconfigure Ford’s continental empire around itself.
In directing attention southwards, Dollfus proffered a vision of a post-war
European–African economic union (Eurafrique) in which Ford SAF
would play a prominent and even leading role. Writing to Edsel Ford in
May 1941, Dollfus contended that while no one knew when or how the
war would end, one thing was nevertheless certain: ‘the commercial
development of the African continent’. ‘We must therefore be ready to
take advantage of this situation, and when I say “we”, I mean not only the
French Ford, but the other European Ford companies as well.’ Ford SAF,
as he had explained in an earlier letter, was uniquely placed to direct this

124
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 248, Edsel Ford to Albert, 31 October 1940; and ACC 6, Box
255, Edsel Ford to Dollfus, 29 January 1941. As early as November 1940, Dollfus told
Albert that the maintenance of Ford SAF’s independence reflected the ‘express desire of
the FMC’. See ACC 507, Box 69, Dollfus to Albert, 30 November 1940.
125
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, Ford SAF, ‘Minutes of the Board Meeting of Ford S.A.F.
Held on. . .December 20th, 1940 at 10.30 A.M.’, 15 May 1941. A subsidiary, Ford
Afrique, would be created in December 1941. See BFRC, Ford-Werke, NARA
0001466–99, American consulate, Algiers, to secretary of state, no. 1535, 11 July 1942,
‘A New Ford Company for Africa’.
126
For pre-war interest in Africa, see André Demaison, ‘Sahara’, La Revue Matford, 38
(1939), 16–20.
127
On this aspect, see Daniel Lefeuvre, ‘Vichy et la modernisation de l’Algérie. Intention ou
réalité’, Vingtième siècle, 42 (1994), 7–16.
94 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

critical endeavour because of France’s close political, financial and other

ties to North Africa. Waxing enthusiastically, Dollfus outlined a scheme
in which Ford SAF in France and North Africa would assemble complete
vehicles (trucks and tractors) from parts and sections made by all the Ford
companies in Europe, including Germany.128
Dollfus’ African project promised Ford Dearborn an alternative post-
war future to the one offered by Ford-Werke. But however attractive this
alternative might have been, the Americans could provide little concrete
help for the time being. If Dollfus wanted to thwart Ford-Werke’s ambi-
tions, Ford SAF would need other allies. And so he turned to Lehideux
and the COA.

The January 1941 protocol

Dollfus established a close working relationship with Lehideux from the
outset. One of Lehideux’s first moves was to create a COA sub-committee
to advise him on all aspects of the French automobile industry. Presided
by Lehideux, the committee comprised one government official as well as
one member each from the Big Three automobile companies; signifi-
cantly, the only other member was Dollfus. ‘I am very pleased to be
named on the committee’, Ford SAF’s director confided, ‘because in
the future I will be in a position to fight for interests with, at least, as
much power as those defending the interests of Renault, Peugeot and
Citroen.’ Dollfus’ nomination was a promising sign that Lehideux fully
recognized Ford SAF’s enhanced status within the industry. Just as
importantly, membership on the committee not only afforded Dollfus
regular and privileged access to the COA’s chief, but also promoted
Ford SAF into something of a partner in the overall administration of
the French automobile industry.129
As tensions mounted between Ford SAF and Ford-Werke during the
autumn of 1940, Dollfus not surprisingly turned to Lehideux for support
against what he called the threat of ‘German ascendency’. When, in
November, the GBK under Thoenissen excluded Ford SAF from its
decision to reduce the authority of the German administrators assigned
to French automobile companies, Dollfus flew into action, pleading with
Lehideux to do something. Responding to Dollfus’ pleas, Lehideux con-
vinced Thoenissen later the same month to agree to an undefined reduc-
tion of Schmidt’s power as administrator. In a letter to Lehideux,

128
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 255, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 10 March and 2 May 1941.
129
Sauvy, Les organismes professionnels français de l’automobile et leur acteurs, 158–9; and
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 248, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 11 October 1940.
 The January 1941 protocol 95

Thoenissen reaffirmed the COA’s status as the sole representative of the

French automobile industry as a whole with the occupation authorities
and promised that Ford SAF would be treated no differently from any
other French company. At the same time, however, Thoenissen made it
clear that Ford SAF was, in fact, different. Schmidt, he explained, had
been made personally responsible for combining the capacity of the Ford
companies in France, Germany, Holland and Belgium into a single and
coherent production programme. As he emphasized: ‘In the future it is he
[Schmidt] alone who will take the decisions necessary regarding the
technical program as well as the rational execution of the production
programme in the four Ford factories.’ Unlike with other French compa-
nies, special measures were needed with Ford SAF in order to ensure that
it played its part in the larger project. Thoenissen, it appeared, was back-
ing Ford-Werke. Any reduction of Schmidt’s authority would be largely
cosmetic.130
Predictably, Dollfus found Thoenissen’s position unacceptable.
Writing directly to Schmidt at the end of November, he claimed that he
would happily ‘receive’ any ‘suggestion’ and ‘cooperation’ from Ford-
Werke but only ‘under the condition that I deem it necessary, and not
embarrassing’.131 If the two companies were to collaborate, Ford SAF
would have to remain independent. In a lengthy letter to Lehideux several
days later, Dollfus elaborated on his thinking, insisting that Schmidt could
not be trusted and that the GBK’s proposal would amount in practice to
Ford SAF’s complete subordination to Ford-Werke: ‘If you entrust
M. Schmidt with the power to make final decisions regarding automobile
manufacturing, you will, in fact, be giving to him alone authority over the
decisions that will determine our needs, our resources, our supplies, our
finances, in short the very existence of our company.’ At the same time,
Dollfus understood that simple opposition to the GBK and Ford-Werke
would likely antagonize Lehideux, who was committed to collaborating
with the Germans. Accordingly, Dollfus carefully crafted his arguments to
appeal to Lehideux, framing the issue in terms of the COA’s authority:
Ford SAF’s special status constituted a violation of Thoenissen’s promise
to treat the COA as the GBK’s partner. No less importantly, he sought to
align Ford SAF’s interests with Lehideux’s own conception of industrial
collaboration. Ford SAF’s interests, Dollfus affirmed, ‘concord com-
pletely with my firm personal desire to contribute to a [Franco-German]
collaboration that has proved itself to be necessary’. Ford SAF, he

130
AN 3W/221, Dollfus deposition, 9 November 1944; and 3W/230, Thoenissen to
Lehideux, 28 November 1940, emphasis in original.
131
BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, Box 69, Dollfus to Schmidt, 30 November 1940.
96 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

continued in this vein, was fully committed to collaborating loyally with

the Germans and to meeting its production targets, adding that ‘it is
understood that the German army will be the first served’. To facilitate
this collaboration, Dollfus accepted that Ford-Werke’s officials be
allowed to visit Ford SAF’s factories to verify matters first hand and to
provide advice on improving the quality and quantity of production. In
return for these concessions, Dollfus not only demanded an end to
Schmidt’s appointment as administrator but also proposed that the
COA together with the GBK be made responsible for overseeing all
aspects of Ford SAF’s participation in the larger Ford programme.
Ford-Werke, in other words, would be stripped of all direct influence
over the company while the COA’s general authority would be
augmented.132
Well aware of Dollfus’ lobbying, Ford-Werke did not remain silent. As
always, the company sought to reassure Ford Dearborn that its actions
were in the best interests of all concerned. To Dollfus, meanwhile, Albert
contended that Ford-Werke had no say in the question of Ford SAF’s
status – or in that of the relationship between the two companies.
Ultimately, these were matters for the GBK to decide.133 But Ford-
Werke was far from neutral. In a letter to the GBK in Berlin in
December 1940, Schmidt defended his actions since France’s defeat.
Under Thoenissen’s guidance, Ford-Werke had established a production
programme that integrated the various Ford companies in Europe,
including Ford SAF. Addressing Dollfus’ complaints, Schmidt claimed
that they were either unfounded or lay beyond his control (prices of parts,
for example) and, in any case, ignored the fact that without his help Ford
SAF would not now be producing and turning profits. More generally,
Schmidt denied any intention of favouring one Ford company over
another, declaring, interestingly, that to do so would be ‘crazy’ given the
fact that Ford Dearborn was the majority owner of all Ford companies in
Europe. In the end, Schmidt identified Dollfus as the culprit, painting him
as a diabolic figure bent on sabotaging any cooperation between Ford
SAF and Ford-Werke: ‘He [Dollfus] has made it clear that he is unwilling
to subordinate himself to anyone in the running [of Ford SAF], neither
now nor in a future European organization.’ Rather than loyally cooper-
ating with Schmidt, Dollfus ‘from the start spun intrigues against my ideas
and against the [production] plan that I had established together with the
GBK. Unfortunately, everyone who has come into contact with him has

132
AN 3W/234, Dollfus to Lehideux, 9 December 1940.
133
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 255, Schmidt to Edsel Ford, 10 January 1941; and ACC 507,
Box 69, Albert to Dollfus, 15 November 1940.
 The January 1941 protocol 97

fallen under his spell.’ Insisting that in attacking him Dollfus was also
criticizing the German authorities, Schmidt concluded the letter with a
demand that Ford SAF’s director be removed.134
That Schmidt addressed his letter to the GBK in Berlin and not to
Thoenissen suggests that he included the latter among those whom
Dollfus had enchanted. If so, he was not entirely wrong. During the
autumn of 1940, Thoenissen grew increasingly irritated with the steady
stream of recriminations between Ford-Werke and Ford SAF. At a meet-
ing in Berlin in December, Thoenissen raised the issue with Lehideux,
agreeing in principle that Ford SAF should not be discriminated against
but treated as any French automobile company.135 Soon afterwards, at a
meeting in Paris in January 1941 to discuss cooperation between the GBK
and the COA, Thoenissen once again raised the subject of Ford, telling
Lehideux that he was sick and tired of receiving ‘complaints’ from the two
companies. Eager to establish his authority, Lehideux insisted that the
COA represented all French companies in the automobile industry and
therefore could not accept that Ford SAF be placed under a separate
administrative regime. More constructively, he went on to outline a com-
promise proposal to Thoenissen that largely reflected Dollfus’ desires.
Ford SAF would promise to do its best to fulfil the production targets
determined by the GBK, while the COA and not Ford-Werke would be
responsible for ensuring that it did so. Any disputes between the two
companies would be referred to GBK and to COA officials for joint
mediation. Schmidt, as a result, would be stripped of all practical control
over Ford SAF’s production activities, merely retaining the right to
inspect (and reject) the manufactured parts that were destined for other
Ford companies. Significantly, Thoenissen quickly accepted Lehideux’s
proposal, effectively abandoning his support for Ford-Werke.136
The immediate result was a protocol signed by Lehideux and
Thoenissen in January 1941 which reconfirmed Ford SAF’s independ-
ence. As Dollfus enthused in a report to Ford Dearborn, ‘our point of view
was not only agreed with by the French authorities, but also by the
German authorities’.137 Dollfus’ success, however, extended beyond the

134
AN 3W/230, Schmidt (Ford-Werke) to Voekler (GBK), 20 December 1940.
135
AN 3W/230, ‘Aktenvermerk. Besprechung mit Herrn Lehideux am 15. und
16.12.1940’, Berlin, 23 December 1940; and Dollfus’ comments on a conversation
with Lehideux in BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 255, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 20
December 1940.
136
AN 3W/230, ‘Compte-rendu des conférences qui ont eu lieu à Paris les 23–24 et 25
Janvier 1941’, L’Epine, 28 January 1941.
137
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 255, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 29 January 1941, which includes
‘Protocol of the decisions taken at the Conference held between Colonel Thoenissen and
Mr. Lehideux on Saturday 25th of January 1941’, 29 January 1941.
98 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

formal terms of the protocol. Instead of merely reducing Schmidt’s

authority, the GBK decided to abolish the position of administrator
altogether and to appoint instead its own ‘industrial representative’
(Industrie Beauftragter or IB) to Ford SAF. Although the IB chosen,
Johannes Stahlberg, came from Ford-Werke, his influence proved to be
extremely limited. This result is partly explained by the scope of the IB’s
duties. Unlike administrators, whose authority could vary greatly depend-
ing on particular circumstances, the IBs were instructed to work closely
with French company directors, acting more as an intermediary between
them and the German authorities than as the latter’s representatives. For
Stahlberg in particular, this meant that his role with Ford SAF was, as one
report later remarked, ‘purely advisory’.138 But another reason for the IB’s
limited influence is that Dollfus and Lehideux worked together to resist
Stahlberg’s attempts to impose his authority. Thus when Stahlberg, newly
installed in his position, informed Dollfus that he possessed a ‘right of
control over production and purchases as well as the right to examine the
[company’s] books, etc.’, Dollfus immediately contacted Lehideux who
then complained to Thoenissen that the IB was over-stepping his author-
ity. In the face of Lehideux’s complaints, Thoenissen not only refused to
widen the IB’s powers but also rejected Ford-Werke’s attempts to impose
its authority on Ford SAF. At a meeting in March 1941, the two thus
agreed that there would be no ‘fundamental changes’ to the original
protocol.139
Why was Thoenissen so conciliatory? One reason stemmed from his
belief in the principle of industrial self-administration. If the German
automobile industry and German companies should be free to run their
day-to-day affairs by themselves, albeit with some oversight from German
authorities, the same held equally true for French companies. Thoenissen
assumed that French automobile companies would work most effectively
for the Germans under their own independent management. From this
perspective, Ford-Werke’s seeming desire to exert a tight control over
Ford SAF appeared unnecessary and even counter-productive. But no
less important a factor for Thoenissen was his evident desire to forge a
close working relationship with the COA. From early on, Lehideux made
it clear that he considered Ford SAF’s status to be a critical issue, one

138
For the IB’s duties, see BA-MA RW 24/54, ‘Niederschrift über die IB-Besprechung am
22. April 1941’, 12 January 1941. For Stahlberg, see AN AJ 40/610, ‘Bericht des
stellvertretenden Verwalters für die Firma Ford Société Anonyme Française. . .’,
6 August 1942.
139
AN 3W/234, Dollfus to Lehideux, 27 January 1941; and 3W/221, ‘Aktennotiz über das
Ergebnis der Besprechung im GBK während des Berliner Aufenthaltes von Herrn
Lehideux vom 1.-6.4.1941’.
 The January 1941 protocol 99

which could jeopardize the growing collaboration between the GBK and
the COA. Lehideux’s promotion of the issue into something of a test case
of collaboration in the automobile industry no doubt contributed to
Thoenissen’s irritation. At the same time, the January 1941 protocol was
a small price to pay to ensure Lehideux’s goodwill, especially since it
seemingly ensured that Ford SAF would produce for the German war effort.
All told, by the spring of 1941 Dollfus had good reasons to be satisfied
with the course of events since France’s defeat. Our ‘business is now
exclusively run by ourselves’, he informed Ford Dearborn in April, adding
that ‘“everything” is progressing satisfactorily’.140 Not only had the threat
from Ford-Werke been neutralized, but Dollfus had succeeded in forging
an alliance with Lehideux that promised a bright future for all concerned.
‘Plans are being laid down in this country for the future of our industry’,
he reported in May. ‘As you know, I happen to be one of those who are
consulted on the said plans. These plans will I believe maintain a very
good rank to our firm.’ Dollfus, meanwhile, assured Lehideux that Ford
Dearborn appreciated his efforts on behalf of Ford SAF, assuring him that
‘when peace came we could count absolutely’ on the ‘attitude of Ford’.141
The immediate future also appeared favourable. Ford SAF’s production
was concentrated in Poissy, which, while not completely finished, was
equipped with modern machines and machine tools as well as with a
workforce of around 2,500. According to Dollfus, the plant made and
assembled 400 trucks/month in addition to parts for another 400 trucks.
Finding customers posed no difficulties, since the German demand for
trucks ‘seems to be always growing’.142
Yet if Ford SAF’s future seemed secure in early 1941, several ominous
clouds were forming on the horizon. One of them was Ford-Werke. The
struggle between the companies had been temporarily suspended rather
than definitively settled. While Schmidt and Albert understood that
Thoenissen preferred to defer the question of Ford SAF’s status until
after the war, they had no intention of waiting until then: they remained
determined to exploit the circumstances of war and occupation to lay the
basis for Ford-Werke’s post-war supremacy. As Albert curtly advised
Ford Dearborn in July, Schmidt and himself would continue ‘to carry
on using our own judgment at the best of our knowledge, in Germany as
well as in the occupied territories’.143 As for Dollfus, notwithstanding his

140
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 6, Dollfus to Sorensen, 3 April 1941.
141
AN 3W/234, Dollfus to Lehideux, 1 March 1941; and BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 255,
Dollfus to Sorensen, 30 May 1941.
142
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 255, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 10 March and 3 April 1941.
143
Ibid., Albert to Edsel Ford, 1 July 1941.
100 The initial struggle for control: 1940–1941

general optimism regarding the future, the recent experience with Ford-
Werke had left him suspicious and prickly, ready to denounce any and
every perceived threat to Ford SAF’s independence. ‘We are chased and
attacked from every angle’, he wrote in May 1941. ‘I am getting difficulties
and hostilities from those that should support us’ – i.e., Ford-Werke.144
Taken together, Dollfus’ state of mind and Ford-Werke’s ongoing ambi-
tions made future clashes all but inevitable.
Another cloud on the horizon was the growing interest of the occupa-
tion authorities in Ford SAF’s productive capacity. In the run-up to the
invasion of the Soviet Union in June 1941, the Germans were eager to
maximize France’s industrial contribution to Germany’s war effort. In
January 1941, the OKW’s economic chief, General Thomas, insisted that
‘France with all its resources must be exploited to a greater extent than
before.’ Similarly, Göring’s Four Year Plan lectured the MbF two months
later that the task of ‘aligning the French economy with German wartime
economic needs’ had assumed a new urgency.145 In April, Thoenissen
accordingly informed German armament officials in Paris that the output
of the French automobile industry must be considerably increased over
the next nine months. Significantly, in his comments Thoenissen empha-
sized the pressing need for trucks.146 Armaments officials, moreover, had
particularly high expectations for Ford SAF. The company’s modern
plant at Poissy when combined with the Ford name, which was practically
synonymous with mass production, conjured up visions of endless num-
bers of trucks rolling off the assembly-lines. No less importantly, during
the struggle with Ford-Werke, Dollfus had been compelled to portray
Ford SAF’s productive potential in upbeat and even inflated terms in his
campaign to convince the German authorities to preserve the company’s
independence.
Heightened expectations on the part of the Germans, in turn, drew
attention to two problems. The first concerned Ford SAF’s output. To be
sure, some confusion existed regarding figures. Those provided by
Dollfus for weekly and monthly production did not always concur with
one another and were often subject to rapid change. But for the Germans,
what mattered most was the number of vehicles delivered. And, here, the
results were disappointing. Of the 2,500 vehicles that Ford SAF was

144
Ibid., Dollfus to Sorensen, 30 May 1941. Emphasis in original.
145
For Thomas, see Hans-Adolf Jacobsen, ed., Kriegstagebuch des Oberkommandos der
Wehrmacht (Wehrmachtführungsstab) Band 1/2 1. August 1940 – 31. Dezember 1941
(Munich, 1982), Thomas to Keitel, 9 January 1941, 997–8. Göring is cited in
Umbreit, Der Militärbefehlshaber in Frankreich, 30. For economic preparations for
Barbarossa in general, see Tooze, The Wages of Destruction, 429–60.
146
AN 3W/232, ‘Note’, Rüstungsinspektion Paris, 9 April 1941.
 The January 1941 protocol 101

contracted to build between August and December 1940, it delivered less

than one half (1,080), a continuation of its pre-armistice performance.
The following year saw improvements but the results still fell short: if Ford
SAF matched and even exceeded the targets for parts, it delivered only
60 per cent of the 6,000 or so trucks it was supposed to produce.147
Admittedly, many of the reasons for Ford SAF’s disappointing results
lay beyond its control. Growing shortages of various matériels, for exam-
ple, not only reduced overall output but also affected quality, since the
company was forced to use substitutes that were second-rate at best.
Nevertheless, the gap between expectations and reality could pose prob-
lems for Ford SAF, for it provided a reason – or excuse – for various
German actors to intervene. Much would depend on Ford SAF’s success
in closing this gap.

147
AN AJ 40/610, ‘Bericht des stellvertretenden Verwalters für die Firma Ford Société
Anonyme Française’, 6 August 1942; and 3W/232, Ford SAF to COA, 27 January 1942.
For figures, also see Wilkins and Hill, American Business Abroad, 436.
3 A year of transition: 1942

For both the Germans and the French, 1942 was a transitional year. This
is true in the general sense that 1942 lies somewhere between the seeming
certainty of German victory that dominated for most of 1940–1 and the
belief that Germany might ultimately be defeated that began to take hold
in 1943. To be sure, for much of the year the prospects of an Allied victory
in the war – and of France’s Liberation from occupation – appeared to be
distant at best. Nevertheless, during 1942 France and Europe’s future
began to look less dark than it did in 1940 or even 1941. Evolving assess-
ment about the war’s likely outcome, in turn, influenced the short-term
and long-term calculations of the various actors in our story.
For the Germans, the failure of Operation Barbarossa, together with
the American entry into the war in December 1941, transformed the
conflict. The changing military situation fuelled calls in Berlin for a
radicalization of policy, one manifestation of which was renewed pressure
to confiscate American-owned firms in Germany and in occupied
Europe. Notwithstanding the powerful voices calling for such a measure,
more moderate counsels eventually prevailed. While the long-term
future of American companies remained uncertain, Ford SAF’s immediate
fate would be determined by developments in France itself. Meanwhile,
the shifting tides of war made necessary a more thorough mobilization
of resources if Nazi Germany was to avoid being overwhelmed by the
combined strength of a global coalition of great powers. In this context,
squeezing more out of occupied Europe in general and out of France in
particular became a pressing concern. At the same time, Germany’s
declining military prospects made the task of exploiting France more
difficult, since the occupation authorities had less to offer the French in
return for cooperation.
For the French, meanwhile, the growing uncertainty concerning the
outcome of the war encouraged a greater assertiveness towards the occu-
piers. If this posture was evident within the Vichy government, it can also
be detected among workers, including those at Ford SAF. This growing
uncertainly also fuelled attempts to renegotiate the bases of industrial

102
 The American entry into the war 103

collaboration. Here, François Lehideux provides a telling example.

While by no means abandoning his ambitions to reorganize the French
automobile industry, during 1942 Lehideux did begin to conceive of this
project more in strictly French rather than in Franco-German terms. The
immediate result was an emerging reticence on his part to cooperate with
his German counterparts.
The year 1942 was also a transitional one for Ford SAF. The preceding
period, running from the summer of 1940 to mid-1941, had seen several
notable successes. In addition to staving off the threat from Ford-Werke,
Dollfus succeeded in forging an alliance with Lehideux, whose COA
worked closely with the GBK. In return, Ford SAF promised to do its
best to produce for the Germans, which was hardly a high price to pay
given the financial benefits and the lack of alternatives. The available
evidence, moreover, suggests that Ford SAF respected its part of the
bargain during 1941 and the beginning of 1942. In the spring of 1942,
however, Allied bombers attacked Ford SAF’s Poissy plant, inflicting
considerable damage and highlighting in stark fashion the stakes involved
in industrial collaboration. The effects of the bombing would be consid-
erable. The company found itself compelled to disperse its industrial
capacity to several locations, a process that aggravated existing problems
concerning the quantity and quality of its production. These problems, in
turn, attracted the attention of the German authorities as well as of Ford-
Werke, both of whom sought to revise the status quo created by the
January 1941 protocol. For Ford SAF, the immediate task was to repair
the damage and to restart production. But informing this activity was the
question of whether it remained in the company’s best interests to work
wholeheartedly for the Germans.

German policy: the American entry into the war

Less than a week after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in December
1941, Nazi Germany declared war on the United States. Although the
German government was not bound to do so under the terms of the
tripartite alliance, Hitler himself took the decision, much to the surprise
and unhappiness of almost all of his political and military advisors who
considered that the Wehrmacht had its hands full with the war against the
Soviet Union. For Hitler, however, the present moment appeared opti-
mal. He believed that war with the United States was inevitable for strategic
and ideological reasons; and if so, a good case could be made for provoking
a war now rather than later when the Americans had mobilized their vast
resources. Not only would the United States be tied down in the Pacific,
providing Germany with time to defeat the Soviets; but the German navy
104 A year of transition: 1942

would be allowed to wage all-out submarine warfare against shipping in

the Atlantic, thus further delaying American preparations.1
However rational Hitler’s decision was to declare war on the United
States, American belligerence had important implications for Ford SAF.
Overnight, it went from being a foreign-owned company to an enemy-
owned one. What this new status meant for Ford SAF in concrete terms
would initially be determined by deliberations in Berlin. In principle, the
answer seemed straightforward: American companies in Germany and
occupied Europe would be subject to the January 1940 decree on the
treatment of enemy assets discussed in the previous chapter. Yet, in
reality, the situation was not so simple. Both Göring’s Four Year Plan
organization and the Economics Ministry had remained dissatisfied with
what they viewed as the excessive moderation of German policy towards
enemy-owned companies. For Göring, the control of these companies
offered a means of increasing Germany’s dominating position in the
European economy while reducing the influence of foreign countries,
not least the United States. The two departments, accordingly, lobbied
in Berlin for changes to the January 1940 decree. In August 1941, for
example, the Economics Ministry asked that administrators be appointed
not only for enemy-owned companies but also for important American-
owned companies, singling out among others the members of Ford’s
European empire. In an inter-ministerial meeting in October 1941, officials
from Göring’s organization spoke in terms of a general liquidation of
enemy- and foreign-owned companies. Responding to the argument
that such measures could await the end of the war, the department’s
representative countered that now was the time to create ‘established
facts’ (vollendete Tatsachen).2
Not surprisingly, these departments seized upon the American entry
into the war to advance their agenda. At an inter-ministerial meeting on
22 December 1941, an Economics Ministry official argued in favour of
extending the January 1940 decree to the United States, describing the
measure as the sole ‘guarantee’ available that American companies would
work ‘in the interests of the German war economy’. In a letter to the

1
For an excellent discussion of Hitler’s decision to declare war on the United States, see
Ian Kershaw, Fateful Choices: Ten Decisions that Changed the World 1940–1941 (London,
2007), 382–430.
2
BAL R 87/67, RWM to RkBfV, no. 7280/41, 11 August 1941; and ibid., RkBfV,
‘Vermerk’, no. 1140/41, 31 October 1941; also see R 2/30024, RFM, ‘Vermerk’,
9 September 1941. In arguing for the need to expand Germany’s economic presence in
Europe during the war itself, the Economics Ministry and the Four Year Plan could count
on a new and powerful ally, the SS. See BAL R 87/9164, ‘Besprechung bei
Reichskommissar Ministerialdirektor Ernst’, 6 August 1941.
 The American entry into the war 105

Foreign Ministry two days later, the Economics Ministry formally

requested this extension. The accompanying memorandum claimed that
American authorities had been waging economic war against German
interests since 1939, which in itself justified retaliatory measures. But it
placed greater emphasis on the urgent need to appoint German admin-
istrators to US-owned companies in order to prevent them from working
in an ‘American spirit’.3 At an inter-ministerial meeting in February 1942,
the Economics Ministry representative reiterated that a ‘pressing interest’
existed in placing a ‘number of American companies under [German]
control as soon as possible’, mentioning in particular companies in the
automobile industry.4
That the Economics Ministry’s ambitions went beyond simply obtain-
ing guarantees of good conduct from American companies is evident from
an internal memorandum in January 1942. Widely circulated within the
ministry, the memorandum contained two related proposals. One was to
strengthen the power as well as the independence of administrators so that
their aims and activities ‘always correspond to national socialist principles’.
In particular, the Economics Ministry wanted to put an end to the common
practice of appointing administrators who came from the company itself
and who were thus tempted to identify with its interests. In backing this
proposal, Martin Bormann, the influential head of the Nazi party
chancellery, would later complain that such administrators possessed a
‘cosmopolitan mentality’ that prevented them from pursuing ‘German
interests’.5 The Economics Ministry’s second proposal was to appoint
administrators not only to individual companies but also to entire industries
in which there was a sizeable American presence. These administrators
would operate on a European-wide basis (Germany and occupied Europe)
and would provide ‘united direction’ to the industries concerned. Such a
concentration of authority, it is worth underscoring, was precisely what
Ford-Werke sought over Ford’s European empire.6
The request to extend the January 1940 decree to the United States met
with fierce resistance from the Foreign Ministry. Strictly speaking, the
latter did not possess much of a case since the United States was now a
belligerent and thus fell under the scope of the decree. Before December
1941, the Foreign Ministry had framed the decree in retaliatory terms:

3
PAAA R 40537, RWM to Auswärtige Amt, no. 58903/41, 24 December 1941, emphasis
in original; and ibid., ‘Aufzeichnung über die Besprechung im AA vom 22.12.41 über
die Behandlung der Vereinigten Staaten von Amerika als Feind im Sinne der
Feindvermögensverordnung’, 22 December 1941.
4
BAL R 3001/22827, ‘Vermerk’, no. 633.42, undated.
5
BFRC, Ford-Werke, BAL 5755, Bormann (Partei-Kanzeli) to RJM, 31 October 1942.
6
BAL R 3101/33172, RWM, ‘Vermerk’, no. 06911/42, 25 January 1942.
106 A year of transition: 1942

Germany should not seize the initiative but instead wait for other coun-
tries to take discriminatory measures against German assets abroad.
Following the American entry into the war, the ministry continued to
defend this position, claiming that Washington had done nothing
to threaten German companies in the United States. In this situation, to
apply the January 1940 decree risked provoking the Americans to respond
in kind. For this reason, the ministry reacted strongly to the news that
Göring, under his authority as head of the Four Year Plan, had appointed
an administrator to Opel (GM), insisting that we must ‘strive if possible to
avoid measures within Germany that will put at risk German assets
abroad’.7 Provoking Washington, moreover, appeared especially dangerous
because Germany supposedly had far more to lose. To be sure, the
Foreign Ministry admitted that the value of American assets in
Germany far outweighed the value of German assets in the United
States – a point it used to explain American restraint. But to prevent this
difference from being used to justify measures against American compa-
nies, Foreign Ministry officials argued that the geographical compass must
be widened to include all of the Americas (Latin and South America) on
the grounds that Washington exerted a predominant influence in the
region and could therefore compel countries to follow its lead. Once this
was done, the overall balance of gains and losses tipped decisively in
Germany’s disfavour.8 Interestingly, in its calculations the Foreign
Ministry excluded American assets in occupied Europe outside of
Germany.
The issue, in any case, went well beyond the calculation of balance
sheets. In a series of inter-ministerial meetings in early 1942, Foreign
Ministry officials made it clear that they viewed the United States differ-
ently from other belligerents. What the ministry feared most was an
‘economic war’ with the United States which, it believed, Germany
would certainly lose. At one such meeting, a high-ranking Foreign
Ministry official insisted that if the Economics Ministry wanted such an
economic war, it must provide a persuasive argument regarding the
‘necessary assurances of success’. In private, meanwhile, the same official
warned against engaging in an ‘economic war’ with the United States:
Looking forward finally from the declaration of war with the United States, we can
imagine that the effect of the enemy assets law will be to open an economic war
with the United States. This would completely contradict the previous guidelines
held to by Germany, which is to pursue a military war but not an economic war.

7
PAAA R 40538, ‘Aufzeichnung’, Albrecht, 9 February 1942.
8
For the Foreign Ministry’s position, see BAL R 2/30075, ‘Schnellbrief’, no. 39442, 17
December 1941; and R 2/30075, AA circular, no. 39442, 17 December 1941.
 The American entry into the war 107

Such a general measure can only be accepted if it contributes to the war aim of
defeating the United States. This, however, appears thoroughly improbable. The
opening of an economic war against the United States will unleash against us
the already-mentioned unfavourable effects [the loss of German assets throughout
Latin and South America], without achieving any [positive] effects of its own.9
The hope that a war with the United States could be confined to the
military realm, excluding the economic, was certainly odd, if not downright
bizarre. But this does not mean that Foreign Ministry officials were
detached from reality. After all, their position reflected a realistic assess-
ment both of Germany’s relative economic strength and of its prospects
for victory in a war against the United States. And this realism holds the
key to explaining the Foreign Ministry’s thinking. At the most basic level,
the case for limited war needs to be understood as a response to Göring
and others who insisted that Germany was engaged in a total war in which
restraint had no place.10 For the Foreign Ministry, such a war could only
lead to disaster for Germany. Set against the backdrop of the failure of
Operation Barbarossa to inflict a quick and decisive defeat on the Soviet
Union, a limited war with the United States might even keep open the
possibility of a separate peace, thereby allowing Germany to concentrate
on the eastern front.
Faced with strong pressure for more radical measures, the Foreign
Ministry and its bureaucratic allies, principally the RkBfV, the agency
responsible for overseeing German policy towards enemy-owned assets,
engaged in delaying tactics. The opening months of 1942 thus saw several
rounds of proposals, counter-proposals and meetings. Events, however,
were working against the Foreign Ministry. One reason for this stemmed
from the Foreign Ministry’s own arguments. Framing the issue in terms of
retaliation meant that a good deal of the debate in Berlin centred on what
the American government was doing. Although the Foreign Ministry
continued to insist that the Americans were manifesting restraint,
information soon trickled in suggesting that Washington was adopting
discriminatory measures against German assets. In early 1942, the
Roosevelt administration moved to freeze German assets and to assign
control over them to the Office of Alien Property Custodian.11 Alien

9
PAAA R 40538, ‘Aufzeichnung über die Behandlung des amerkanischen Vermögens in
Deutschland’, Schiffner, 20 January 1941; and ibid., ‘Besprechung über die Behandlung
der Vereinigten Staaten als Feindstaat im Sinne der Feindvermögensordnung am 16.
Januar 1942’, Schiffner, 22 January 1942.
10
See the comments in Lindner, Das Reichskommissariat, 161.
11
On the American steps, see Stuart L. Weiss, The President’s Man: Leo Crowley and Franklin
Roosevelt in Peace and War (Carbondale, IL, 1996), 114–47. Crowley headed the Office of
Alien Property Custodian when it was created in 1942. Also see Lindner, Das
Reichskommissariat, 92.
108 A year of transition: 1942

Property Custodians possessed full powers to dispose of enemy and

neutral assets as they deemed best. In at least one case, that of the
American affiliate of I. G. Farben, the custodian worked quickly to
‘Americanize’ the company.12
But if mounting evidence of American measures against German
companies weakened the Foreign Ministry’s position, so too did the
intervention of the occupation authorities in France. Unlike German
military leaders in Berlin, who initially appeared largely uninterested
in the issue, the MbF had been pressing for measures against American
assets for some time. In April 1941, several months before the United
States’ entry into the war, the MbF’s economic section recommended
that American companies be subject to surveillance and even possible
seizure. Shortly thereafter, it imposed strict restrictions on the use of
assets by American individuals and companies.13 Following the
American entry into the war, the MbF urged the authorities in Berlin to
extend the January 1940 decree to the United States. In particular, the
MbF asked for the authority to appoint German administrators to
American companies, partly in order to pre-empt the French govern-
ment.14 In late 1941 – early 1942 Vichy authorities began discussing the
possibility of appointing their own administrators to American-owned
companies, drawing up a list in which Ford SAF was included. Much to
the MbF’s displeasure, Vichy guidelines indicated that appointments
would be made in consultation with the companies concerned, effectively
ensuring that the administrators would be an instrument of company
policy. Indeed, the guidelines allowed company directors to become
administrators and it was thus proposed that Dollfus be appointed for
Ford SAF.15
The MbF feared that the appointment by Vichy of administrators such
as Dollfus would strip the Germans of any influence over American-
owned companies. Accordingly, the MbF pressed Berlin to be allowed

12
Declan O’Reilly, ‘Vesting GAF Corporation: The Roosevelt Administration’s Decision
to Americanise I. G. Farben’s American Affiliates in World War II’, History and
Technology, 22 (2006), 177–80.
13
For the MbF, see the file in AN AJ 40/605, especially Herrn KVR Bolck, 7 April
1941, Leiter der Wirtschaftsabteilung to Leiter der Verwaltungsabteilung, 3 April 1941;
CAEF B0063544, ‘Note sur le blocage des avoirs américains’, September 1941; and MbF
to Min. de l’Economie Nationale et des Finances, 19 July 1941. Also see BA-MA RW 35/
304, ‘Bericht über die wirtschaftlichen Lage im Bereich des Militärbefehshabers in
Frankreich’, 2 August 1941.
14
PAAA R 40538, MbF to RFM, 10 January 1942.
15
AN 19830589/7, Secrétariat d’état à la production industrielle, ‘Note pour Messieurs les
Chefs de Service’, no. 31.671, 19 December 1942; and ibid., ‘Nomination
d’Administrateurs provisoires pour les Sociétés placées sous influence américaine.
Fiche de renseignements. Ford S.A.F.’, undated.
 The American entry into the war 109

not only to appoint German administrators but also to devise safeguards

to ensure that the latter served German interests. Significantly, the MbF
was particularly unhappy with the administrators that the GBK had
appointed to French companies, contending that all too often they iden-
tified with their assigned companies rather than with the larger goal of the
German occupation, which was to exploit France’s productive capacity to
the maximum.16 The MbF’s lobbying, moreover, appears to have carried
some weight in Berlin. Thus, in justifying its decision to support the
extension of the January 1940 decree to American-owned companies in
Germany and in occupied Europe, the Justice Ministry prominently cited
the MbF’s position.17
Under pressure from all sides and increasingly isolated, the Foreign
Ministry had no choice but to end its opposition. In early April 1942, the
January 1940 decree was accordingly revised to include the United States.
As Stephen Lindner argues, it is remarkable that it took the German
authorities four months to recognize the obvious – that the United
States was officially an enemy.18 More than anything, this delay is a
reflection of the unique role of the United States in the Nazi regime’s
efforts to define the nature of the war. By excluding the United States from
the January 1940 decree, the Foreign Ministry hoped to avoid the catas-
trophe of an unwinnable war by limiting its scope, at least in the economic
realm. For others, however, extending the decree imposed itself not only
for the self-evident reason that the United States was now a belligerent,
but also as a means to radicalize Germany’s economic war effort – to use
the war to transform the German and European economies.
Radicalizing impulses, as a good deal of research indicates, pulsed
through the Nazi regime, reaching their murderous apogee in genocide.19
By this standard, the ambitions to eliminate the presence of American
companies in Europe appear relatively mild. Yet, as the debates in Berlin
in early 1942 suggest, the potential for the radicalization of German policy
existed in all domains. This point is pertinent for American-owned com-
panies in France for two reasons. One reason is that these companies

16
BAL R 87/2, MbF to RkBfV, no. Wi I/3, 28 February 1942. For unhappiness, see the
retrospective comments of General Barckhausen in NARA T 77/1221, ‘Die deutsche
Wehr- und Rüstungswirtschaft in Frankreich vom 3.7.1940 bis 31.3.1943’, undated but
1943.
17
PAAA R 40539, RJM to AA, no. 936/42, 20 March 1942; also see BAL R 3001/22827,
RJM Schnellbrief, no. 1212/42, 13 March 1942.
18
Lindner, Das Reichskommissariat, 92–7.
19
Notable examples include Christopher R. Browning, The Origins of the Final Solution: The
Evolution of Nazi Jewish Policy, 1939–1942 (London, 2005); Ian Kershaw, Hitler 1936–1945:
Nemesis (London, 2000); and MacGregor Knox, Common Destiny: Dictatorship, Foreign
Policy and War in Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany (Cambridge, 2000).
110 A year of transition: 1942

operated in a climate of uncertainty. A sudden change in German policy

could not be ruled out. The second reason is that the practical implica-
tions of the decision to extend the January 1940 decree remained unclear.
They would have to be worked out between the various French and
German actors concerned.

German policy: the American entry into the war

and Ford SAF
Generally speaking, the decision to extend the January 1940 decree on
enemy assets to the United States had little immediate impact on
American-owned companies. Despite being forced to give way on the
principal point, the German Foreign Ministry did succeed in gaining
concessions when it came to applying the decree, most notably regarding
the authority of the German administrators who would be appointed.
Predictably, Economics Ministry officials continued to demand that
administrators be named for entire industries and that individual admin-
istrators be given wide powers and be truly independent of the compa-
nies they administered; no less pertinently, they insisted that such
measures were especially urgent in the case of American multinational
companies.20 But the Foreign Ministry succeeded in ignoring these
demands, ensuring that the administrators’ powers would continue to
be circumscribed.21
This hands-off approach would extend to occupied France. Having
lobbied in Berlin for the extension of the January 1940 decree, the MbF
quickly set about appointing administrators to American-owned compa-
nies. By September 1942, there were 130 German administrators, a
number that rose to 850 by July 1943, though not all of these were
named to American companies.22 Not surprisingly, the MbF sought to
define their powers as broadly as possible. The appointees, read the
instructions prepared by the MbF’s enemy assets section, were to
‘administer’ the companies ‘according to the principles of a directed
economy for the benefit of Germany’. While they should try to preserve

20
BAL R 3101/33172, RWM draft circular, 9 April 1942; and ‘Niederschrift über eine
Besprechung vom 18. Juli 1942 bei Herrn Staatssekretär Dr. Koch über Grundsätze der
Verwalterbestellung für amerikanische Vermögen’, 24 July 1942.
21
BAL R 3101/33172, RkBfV to RWM, 20 July 1942. Also see Anita Kugler, ‘Die
Behandlung des feindlichen Vermögens in Deutschland und die “Selbstverantwortung”
der Rüstungsindustrie. Darstellt am Beispiel dr Adam Opel AG von 1941 bis Anfang
1943’, 1999. Zeitschrift für Sozialgeschichte des 20. und 21. Jahrhunderts, 3 (1988), 46–78.
22
AN AJ 40/602, MbF to General von Unruh, 16 July 1943; and BA-MA R 35/305, MbF,
Wirtschaftsabteilung, ‘Wirtschaftsbereich’ for June to September 1942, 1 November
1942.
 The American entry into the war and Ford SAF 111

the ‘interests of the enemy owners’, they should do so only to the extent
that it ‘does not contradict Germany’s welfare’.23
In the end, however, the MbF failed to transform the German admin-
istrators of American-owned companies into reliable instruments of its
policies. In a post-hoc assessment of its activities during the Occupation,
the MbF’s enemy assets section admitted that German administrators had
had little impact on the ‘independent life’ (Eigenleben) of enemy-owned
companies. Indeed, going further, the overview claimed that German
administrators had exercised less authority in France than in Germany
and other occupied territories. For this, it blamed the bureaucratic rivalries
in Berlin.24 But if these rivalries were certainly a factor, alone they cannot
explain why administrators proved to be particularly weak in France. To
understand this difference, one must also consider the relationship
between the MbF’s principal aim, which was to exploit French resources
for the German war effort, and France’s special role as the economic and
industrial crown jewel of Germany’s European empire. The Germans
urgently needed to maintain and even to increase French production, a
priority which determined the choice of administrators for American-
owned companies. In principle, the MbF insisted that the administrators
must possess ‘unconditional political reliability’.25 In practice, however,
they privileged expertise over politics. As with Ford SAF, almost all the
important American-owned companies in France were working for the
Germans by 1942. The occupation authorities quickly realized that if they
wanted to avoid costly disruptions to production, they would not only
have to limit the role of administrators but also to appoint people who
knew something about the industry and company concerned. And more
often than not this meant someone close to or even from the company
itself. The MbF was well aware of the risk that such a person would be
co-opted by the company he administered, but this was a risk it had to
accept. In the end, the occupation authorities could only hope that the
interests of Germany’s war effort would continue to coincide with those of
American-owned companies.
Interestingly, Ford SAF appeared to be something of a special case
because of its fraught relations with Ford-Werke. The decision to extend
the January 1940 enemy assets decree to the United States had implica-
tions not only for Ford SAF but also for its German counterpart. Well

23
BA-MA RW 35/257, ‘Dienstanweisung für die Verwalter von Feinsvermögen’, undated
but 1942.
24
Ibid., ‘Bericht der Gruppe Wi ½ (Feindvermögen) über ihre Tätigkeit vom 20.10.40-
15.8.44’, 17 February 1945.
25
Ibid.
112 A year of transition: 1942

before the American entry into the war, Ford-Werke had suggested to the
German authorities that an administrator would be unnecessary as the
company ‘was and always had been German’. As decisive evidence of its
German identity, Ford-Werke emphasized its efforts, under GBK
instructions, to reorganize the Ford companies in occupied Europe ‘on
the basis of a common programme’ and to make ‘their war potential
available to the army administration’. Nevertheless, if the authorities
insisted on appointing an administrator, Ford-Werke asked that it be
Heinrich Albert, the chairman of its board, who supposedly had laboured
to reduce ‘American influence’.26
In Berlin, however, it appeared self-evident that Ford-Werke would
need an administrator. Indeed, even before the extension of the January
1940 decree there were discussions on whom to appoint. Reflecting
Ford-Werke’s wishes, the focus was initially on Albert. Thoenissen, the
GBK’s chief in France, lobbied in his favour. As Thoenissen explained in
December 1941, he was concerned about Göring’s ambitions to
Germanize the European economy, fearing in particular that a ‘third
party’ might exploit the appointment of an administrator to seize control
of Ford-Werke and the other Ford companies in Europe. Such a step
would not only disrupt the current production of trucks, which the
Wehrmacht badly needed; it would also jeopardize the longer-term aim
of reorganizing the post-war European automobile industry to reflect
Germany’s dominant position.27 To recall, Thoenissen believed that
this aim should be pursued in cooperation with the automobile industries
and companies of other European countries. Paradoxically, this belief
made it important not to alienate Ford Dearborn. Well aware of the rivalry
between Ford-Werke and Ford SAF, Thoenissen counted on the
Americans to restrain the French company’s resistance to being inte-
grated into a German-led European automobile industry after the war.
And this explains his choice of Albert as administrator. As a ‘prominent
Ford representative’ with close ties to Ford Dearborn, Albert would
provide a reassuring presence to the Americans, reducing the possibility
that they would back Ford SAF against Ford-Werke. Conversely, if Albert
were not chosen, Thoenissen maintained, Dollfus’ ‘influence’ with Ford
Dearborn would rise, undermining ongoing efforts to ensure that after the
war the ‘Schwerpunkt of Ford’s [European] interests lies in Germany’.28

26
Ford-Werke to RkBfV, 18 June 1941, reproduced in Roβmann, ed., Vom mühsamen Weg
zur Einheit, 356–8.
27
BFRC, Ford-Werke, NARA 000451–454, Albert to Schmidt (English translation), 20
December 1941.
28
See BFRC, Ford-Werke, BAL 5784–86, RkBfV, ‘Vermerk’, 20 April 1942; and also see
BAL R 87/6205, ‘Vermerk’, RkBfV, no. 36/41, 27 November 1941.
 The American entry into the war and Ford SAF 113

Not surprisingly, Albert shared Thoenissen’s thinking. It was

imperative, he explained in December 1941, that Ford-Werke ‘stick
wholeheartedly and to the last minute’ to Ford Dearborn in order ‘to
build up a German domination within the Ford concern as far as Europe
was concerned’.29 Albert’s and Thoenissen’s calculations, however, were
threatened by Robert Schmidt, Ford-Werke’s director. Although Schmidt
pretended that he was happy to see Albert as administrator, behind the
scenes he appears to have campaigned for his own appointment. Before
long, both Göring’s Four Year Plan and the Economics Ministry
expressed their support of Schmidt, who they viewed as a more suitable
ally in their pursuit of a more interventionist approach to American-
owned companies. Soon afterwards, the German security services vetoed
Albert’s appointment, presumably because he was too ‘cosmopolitan’ in
outlook.30 Albert, however, did not accept his apparent defeat. In addition
to calling on Thoenissen’s help, he quietly endeavoured to ensure that his
‘oversight of and influence on’ Ford-Werke ‘remained as before’.31
The upshot was a compromise. While Schmidt was appointed as
Ford-Werke’s enemy assets administrator, Albert became the chairman
of the company’s reconfigured board of advisors. More pertinently for our
story, Albert and not Schmidt was chosen to administer Ford SAF.
Although Thoenissen’s reaction is unknown, Dollfus at least was relieved
by the outcome. Early on, he had urged Thoenissen to name someone to
Ford SAF who was unconnected to Ford-Werke, preferably a German
military officer.32 But for Dollfus, the priority was on excluding Schmidt.
The latter, he informed Ford Dearborn in the spring of 1942, had done
‘everything he could to be appointed at Paris. We finally succeeded in
avoiding this danger (and it was a real danger).’ While not thrilled with
Albert, Dollfus was nevertheless confident that the German authorities in
France have ‘accepted our view point as regards the protection of our
business’. Ford Dearborn was thus told that Ford SAF’s administrator
would almost certainly be instructed to do ‘nothing. . .to impede our

29
BFRC, Ford-Werke, NARA 000451–454, Albert to Schmidt (translated), 20 December
1941. Albert lobbied hard to be named administrator, informing the RkBfV in December
1941 that he was in no way beholden to Ford Dearborn and that ‘I have always repre-
sented in principle and in fact exclusively German interests’. See BAL R 87/6205, Albert
to RkBfV, 12 December 1941.
30
BFRC, Ford-Werke, BAL 5778–80, RkBfV, ‘Vermerk’, 19 December 1941 and 25
March 1942; and BFRC, Ford-Werke, NARA 0000147, Albert to Schmidt, 5 February
1942. Also see Reich, Research Findings about Ford-Werke under the Nazi Regime, 32–3.
31
BFRC, Ford-Werke, BAL 5784–86, RkBfV, ‘Vermerk’, 20 April 1942.
32
BAL R 87/6205, RkBfV, ‘Vermerk’, 24 December 1941; and Reich, Research Findings
about Ford-Werke under the Nazi Regime, 34.
114 A year of transition: 1942

future activities, and that no measures of confiscation, either moral or

material, [will] be taken’.33
Ford SAF’s confidence, however, was premature. In Berlin, Schmidt
made it clear that, as administrator of Ford-Werke, he intended to raise
anew the issue of Ford SAF’s immediate future. In a meeting with RkBfV
officials in the spring of 1942, Schmidt dwelt on the ‘discrepancies’
(Unstimmigkeiten) existing between Ford SAF and Ford-Werke. From
the outset, Schmidt continued, Dollfus had been disloyal, doing every-
thing he could to undermine Ford-Werke’s efforts on behalf of the
German war economy. Cooperation between the two men, Schmidt
insisted, was simply ‘not possible’. Dollfus would have to go. Schmidt,
in fact, had already approached the MbF about seizing effective control of
Ford SAF. For now, the occupation authorities responded cautiously to
the suggestion – a response he attributed principally to Dollfus’ close
relations with the GBK. But Schmidt, as we shall see, was not about to
abandon the issue.34

German policy: the growing gap between French and

German interests
The American entry into the war had far-reaching implications for
Germany’s war effort. For the moment, however, the Germans expected
that it would take considerable time before the United States was able to
mobilize and apply its massive resources. To be sure, some observers,
such as the German military attaché in Washington, warned against ‘an
under-estimation of the American capacity to produce and the American
willingness to produce’.35 But most of them believed that the United
States would be unable to tip the matériel balance between Axis and
Allies decisively in the latter’s favour before 1943 at the earliest.
Speaking to representatives of the German automobile industry in
November 1941, General Schell, the GBK’s head, downplayed the imme-
diate impact of American belligerency. When it comes to war production,
he remarked, the United States ‘cannot from one day to the next come up
with a huge quantity of matériel’.36 In the meantime, the more immediate

33
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 260, ‘Memorandum from Mr. George Lesto Ast. Manager of
Matford Company’, 9 June 1942.
34
BAL R 87/6205, ‘Aktenvermerk’, RkBfV, 29 April 1942.
35
ADAP, vol. 13/1, Botschaft Washington to AA (Berlin), no. 2194, 12 July 1941, 106–8.
36
SäSC, Auto Union 31050, 599, ‘Vortrag des Herrn General von Schell anlässlich der
Beiratssitzung in der Wirtschaftsgruppe Fahrzeugindustrie am 18. November 1941’. Also
see Joseph Maiolo, Cry Havoc: How the Arms Race Drove the World to War 1931–1941
(New York, 2010), 353–4.
 The growing gap between French and German interests 115

and preoccupying situation was in the East. The Red Army’s surprise
counter-offensive in early December 1941 not only triggered a serious
political-military crisis in Berlin at precisely the same moment as Pearl
Harbor, but also marked the definitive failure of Operation Barbarossa.
Once the counter-offensive had been beaten back and the front-lines
stabilized, German political and military leaders confronted the reality
that the war would not end quickly. In November, Schell had spoken of
the possibility of a decade-long war, though he hoped victory would come
sooner. But however long the war, everyone agreed that a major offensive
against the Soviets would be needed in the spring of 1942. Preparing for
this offensive took precedence over other considerations.
The priority, accordingly, became to increase armaments production. A
Hitler decree in early December 1941 announced the need for the ‘system-
atic combination of all construction and production resources’ for ‘rearma-
ment tasks’.37 Responding to the decree, Wilhelm Keitel, the head of the
OKW, drew up a memorandum in January 1942 aimed at charting a new
course in armaments production. In addition to according the army the
priority, it called for rigorous steps to increase output by concentrating and
rationalizing industries and by eliminating all production that was not
absolutely essential to the war effort. ‘All measures that today are merely
partial efforts towards future peace planning represent a weakening of the
war economy and should therefore be completely ended.’38 That these
steps were not meant to apply to Germany alone is apparent from the
remarks of General Thomas, the OKW’s economic chief, later the same
month. Addressing a gathering of armaments officials from the various
occupied countries, Thomas informed them that they ‘must make the
strongest efforts to mobilize more than before the economic potential of
their territories for German rearmament and to forbid any production that
is not of a war-important nature.’39 Possessing the largest economy in
occupied Europe, France would necessarily be affected by the renewed
commitment of the Germans to exploit all the resources at their disposal.
German occupation officials in France were fully attuned to the
growing sense of urgency reigning in Berlin. As early as September 1941,

37
‘Vereinfachung und Leistungssteigerung unserer Rüstungsproduktion’, Hitler, 3
December 1941, reproduced in Martin Moll, ed., ‘Führer-Erlasse’ 1939–1945 (Stuttgart,
1997), 210–12.
38
‘Uberblick über die Rüstungsmaβnahmen’, OKW, no. 1/42, 3 January 1942, reproduced
in Thomas, Geschichte der deutschen Wehr- und Rüstungswirtschaft, 1918–1943/45 (Boppard
an Rhire, 1966), 478–82.
39
BA-MA RW 19/562, ‘Vortrag des Herrn Amtschef des Wehrwirtschafts-u.
Rüstungsamtes im Oberkommando der Wehrmacht General d.Inf. Thomas gelegentlich
der Besprechung der Rüstungs-Inspekteure und Rüstungskommandeure am 21.1.1942
in Berlin’, OKW Wi Rü, no. 213/42, undated.
116 A year of transition: 1942

a high-ranking MbF official warned armaments officials that their

pleasant life in occupied France should not blind them to the seriousness
of Germany’s overall situation. War production must be increased with-
out delay, he intoned, adding that ‘[i]f we want to preserve the existence
of our people, then nothing else matters’.40 More concretely, the MbF’s
economic officials reported that it was necessary not only to augment the
number of German contracts and sub-contracts with French companies
but also better to oversee the execution of these contracts with an eye to
reducing unnecessary production. As a report in January 1942 explained,
the ‘large-scale planning of the overall production for the Wehrmacht and
for the [French] civilian sector’ was ‘absolutely necessary’ in order to
increase output. Only by such planning would it be possible to ‘implement
in large part the desired concentration in the especially productive facto-
ries as well as the closing of unimportant output, [which would] free-up
additional capacity for new [German] contracts’.41 Several months later,
at a high-level meeting in Paris attended by Lehideux among others,
German officials asked the French participants to cooperate in drawing
up industry-wide plans to concentrate production. In the meantime,
French and German officials would work together at a local level in
order to close factories that were not working for the occupiers.42
As the German occupation authorities would quickly discover,
however, increasing French production for the German war effort
would not be easy. One problem was the growing shortages that afflicted
France’s economy, greatly hampering activity. ‘No energy sources.
No raw matériels. Little manpower’ was how one French analysis
succinctly assessed matters in the autumn of September 1941.43 During
1941–2, German reports referred with increasing frequency to the lack
of raw matériels, energy, transport and labour. In the Paris region, the
ratio between needs and available supplies of various oil products for
factories, for example, ranged from 3 to 1 and 4 to 1. In the spring
of 1942, the MbF noted dejectedly that ‘the difficulties are constantly
increasing in all areas of the industrial economy’ and that ‘new bottlenecks

40
BA-MA RW 24/42, ‘Niederschrift über die IB Besprechung am 29. Sept. 1941’, General
Rüdt von Collenberg.
41
BA-MA RW 24/16, Wi- und Rü Stabes Frankreich, ‘Lagebericht des Wehrwirtschafts-
und Rüstungsstabes Frankreich für Oktober 1941’, Paris, 15 November 1941; and RW
24/17, Wi- und Rü Stabes Frankreich, ‘Lagebericht des Wehrwirtschafts- und
Rüstungsstabes Frankreich fuer Dezember 1941’, Paris, 15 January 1942.
42
AN 3W/52, ‘Compte-rendu d’une réunion du 25 mars à l’Hôtel Majestic’, 26 March
1942.
43
‘Synthèse zone occupée – 16 septembre 1940 (DGTO)’, accessed online at: www.ihtp.
cnrs.fr/prefets.
 The growing gap between French and German interests 117

and obstacles were constantly emerging’.44 Among the industries

adversely affected by the shortages was the French automobile industry.
In February 1942, the economic group representing the German
automobile industry identified shortages of various kinds as the principal
danger to the ongoing efforts to exploit the productive capacity of French
companies. It recommended closer cooperation between the GBK and
the COA in order to ensure that the focus remained on ‘war-important
and war-decisive’ production.45
In German eyes, the penury of supplies confirmed the pressing need
to rationalize and concentrate French production. The ‘ever increasing
shortage’ of matériel, the MbF underscored, ‘demands the strongest
measures of concentration and especially the ending of all production
that is unimportant to the war and to existence (aller nichts kriegs- und
lebenswichtigen Fertigung)’.46 With this in mind, in December 1941 and
again in March 1942 the occupation authorities issued decrees
empowering them to close factories; in May 1942 the Germans began
drawing up a list of designated factories, many of which belonged to
the consumer goods industries but some of which belonged to
industries directly linked to the war effort.47 The occupation author-
ities, however, were eventually forced to admit that they had had little
success in closing factories. If one problem was the lack of German
officials to oversee the decree’s implementation, the Germans pointed
to another and more fundamental factor: the uncooperative attitude of
the French authorities.
The difficulties that the MbF encountered in imposing greater
concentration on French industry reflected a fundamental dilemma that
emerged with growing sharpness in 1941–2. At a very basic level, the
Germans depended on the cooperation of the French. As Elmar Michel, the
head of the MbF’s economic administration, explained after the Liberation,
the MbF’s constrained resources limited its role to that of ‘controller’.
The Germans, Michel remarked, had no choice but ‘to execute German
demands through agreement and collaboration’ with French officials

44
NARA T 77/1256, ‘Lagebericht der Rüstungsinspektion A zum 3. Januar 1942’, no.
9920/42, 3 January 1942; and MbF, ‘Lagebericht April/Mai 1942’, 31 May 1942,
emphasis in original. Accessed online at: www.ihtp.cnrs.fr/prefets.
45
MBA, Bestand Kissel, 9.33, Wirtschaftsgruppe Kraftfahrzeug, ‘Tätigkeitsbericht der
Geschäftsführung’, no. 12/42, 12 February 1942.
46
MbF, ‘Lagebericht April/Mai 1942’, 31 May 1942, emphasis in original. Accessed online
at: www.ihtp.cnrs.fr/prefets.
47
AN 19830589/8, ‘Ordonnance allemande concernant la fermeture d’entreprises’,
5 March 1942; and Marcel Boldorf, ‘Les effets de la politique des prix sur la consomma-
tion’ in Sabine Effosse, Marc de Ferrière le Vayer and Hervé Joly, eds., Les entreprises de
biens de consommation sous l’Occupation (Tours, 2010), 21–2.
118 A year of transition: 1942

and industrialists.48 During the first year of the Occupation, this approach
worked well enough. Initial fears concerning the possibility of ‘passive resist-
ance’ on the part of French authorities towards industrial collaboration were
quickly dispelled. While Vichy actively encouraged the Germans to place
contracts in France, companies such as Ford SAF proved to be eager to
work for the occupiers due to the absence of alternatives and the prospect of
considerable profits.49 To be sure, German observers sensed that the vast
majority of the French hoped for a British victory; but they also recognized that
these hopes in no way precluded a desire to collaborate. Growing numbers of
‘leading economic actors’ in France, one report concluded, manifested a
willingness to cooperate with Germany ‘in the framework of a new
European economy’.50
By 1942, however, the willingness of the French to cooperate appeared
to be faltering. As the prospects of a rapid German victory receded, the
German authorities began to detect a change in the attitudes of the
French. In February, the MbF’s economic section reported on signs of
opposition on the part of French industrialists to collaboration. Several
months later the German armistice commission noted that the French
government and people were hedging their bets towards the occupiers in
light of the uncertain outcome of the war.51 Over the course of the year,
German perceptions on this score would harden. Increasing numbers of
French industrialists, it was alleged, were losing confidence in collabora-
tion, convinced that it worked to Germany’s unique benefit. Reports soon
began to speak of ‘passive resistance’ on the part of French workers that
manifested itself in poor discipline, shoddy workmanship and even
deliberate delays.52 Increasingly concerned, armaments officials launched
a propaganda campaign in the autumn of 1942, replete with pamphlets,
lectures and concerts, aimed at convincing French workers to ‘apply

48
AN 3W/52, ‘Les buts de l’Administration militaire’, translated excerpts of Michel’s final
report.
49
In May 1941, one German automobile company reported that French companies pre-
ferred German contracts because they paid more. See SäSC, Auto Union 31050, ‘Bericht
über die Aufenthalt Schlobsnieβ in Paris in der Zeit vom 7. bis 13. Mai 1941’, 17 May
1941.
50
BA-MA RW 24/16, Wi- und Rü Stab Fr, ‘Lagebericht des Wehrwirtschafts- und
Rüstungsstaabes Frankreich für Februar’, 3 March 1941.
51
BA-MA RW 24/17, Wi- und Rü Stabes Frankreich, ‘Anlage zum Lagebericht’,
12 February 1942; and RW 19/3360, ‘Beurteilung der Lage Frankreichs und Einstellung
der Achensenmächte zu Frankreich’, Deutsche Waffenstillstandskommission, Wiesbaden,
no. 113/42, 1 July 1942.
52
For example, see BA-MA, RW 24/98, ‘Kriegstagebuch des Rü Kdos Paris-Mitte für den
Zeitabschnitt 28.9–27.12.42’, 20 January 1943; and RW 24/49, Rü In A, ‘Lagebericht’,
no. 10102/42, 1 February 1942.
 The growing gap between French and German interests 119

themselves in the interests of German policy’. Meanwhile, a series of

intimate meetings were organized with French industrialists in the hope
of fostering ‘closer personal contact’. The overall results, however, proved
disappointing.53
For the Germans, what they perceived as the growing hostility of the
French became a key factor in explaining disappointing production. Here,
General Barckhausen, the head of the MbF’s armaments section, offers a
telling example. In October 1942, he warned his subordinates that
German armaments production was threatened by sabotage – a threat
he largely attributed to the influence of Allied propaganda. ‘Anglo-
American propaganda finds an especially attentive ear among many
French people, with its advice they do not work or work as little as possible
for German war production and that they do everything to hurt German
interests.’ Going further, he even alleged that a ‘throng of spies and
saboteurs’ were targeting French factories producing for the Germans.54
Admittedly, Barckhausen’s views were alarmist. Although the French
police, who kept a close eye on these matters, observed an increase in
grumbling and even in political activity (mostly leafleting and graffiti)
among some workers during 1941–2, it was entirely episodic and without
any detectable impact on production.55 Nevertheless, Barckhausen’s
views are worth citing because they draw attention to a significant
development during 1942: the growing belief of the occupation author-
ities that French and German interests in the economic and industrial
realms were diverging.
On the German side, no one was more aware of this growing divergence
of interests than the GBK’s chief in France. Speaking in September 1942
to German armaments officials, Thoenissen emphasized the need to
reanimate the ‘community of interests’ between occupiers and occupied.
‘The goal of this community of interests’, he reminded his listeners, ‘is to
ensure that those French industries working for the German war effort are
developed in such a way that this [Franco-German] union produces the
greatest results for the strengthening of Germany’s armaments potential’.
Thoenissen understood, moreover, that this community could not be
imposed but must be voluntary. A ‘lasting strengthening of [our] war
potential’ was ‘for the most part dependent on the voluntary readiness

53
BA-MA RW 24/47, Rü In A (Paris u. Nordwest-Frankreich), ‘Kriegstagebuch’,
27 November 1943; ‘Aktenvermerk’, 8 September 1942; and ‘Vierteljährlicher
Überblick zum K.T.B. für die Zeit vom 1.10–31.12.42’.
54
BA-MA RW 24/5, ‘Anspruche des Chefs des Wi. Stabes Frankreich an die Teilnehmer
des Ausbildungslehrganges für Wi-Offiziere am 12. Oktober 1942’, 19 October 1942.
55
For example, see the reports for the Seine-et-Oise department, which included Poissy, in
ADY 1 W/8.
120 A year of transition: 1942

of the French to cooperate’. Yet, here, precisely could be found the ‘core’
of the problem confronting the Germans:
Germany demands from its defeated opponent, who meanwhile for an uncertain
and unforeseeable period is subjected to the strongest political and military pres-
sure, that it contribute through the greatest possible voluntary effort for war
production to the achievement of [a German] victory, one in which the vast
majority of the people of this defeated opponent has no interest.56
Thoenissen’s comments can partly be read as an implicit criticism of
Hitler’s consistent refusal to negotiate a political agreement with France
during the conflict that would secure its place in a post-war Europe – an
agreement that Vichy leaders desperately sought. But it was more than
this. Thoenissen identified a basic challenge that would increasingly con-
front the occupation authorities in the economic realm: how to convince
French industrialists and workers to act in contradiction to their perceived
interests: ‘Above all our duty is to ponder over and over again until our
heads hurt how we are to get the French to help us with all their available
means to strengthen our war potential, [and this] despite what is for them
a fate [that is] very difficult to accept.’57 For Barckhausen, the answer to
Thoenissen’s question was to appeal to the material interests of the
French. The promise of considerable profits would stimulate collabora-
tion. But as Barckhausen himself recognized, this promise had its limits.
While the profit motive might prompt French companies to work for the
Germans, it alone offered no guarantee that they would commit ‘all their
available means’ to the task. Indeed, given the belief that rising numbers of
factory directors possessed a reserved and even hostile attitude towards
the occupiers, the wholehearted cooperation of French companies was
doubtful.58 At the same time, in an economy of growing penury such
cooperation would be more necessary than ever to maintain let alone to
increase production.
Unlike Barckhausen, Thoenissen hoped to reduce the emerging gap in
French and German interests by appealing to politics. One aspect of this
appeal consisted of a renewed emphasis on Europe – on the collective
construction of a post-war order that would benefit everyone. The greater
France’s immediate contribution to this order, the greater would be its
eventual reward. Similarly, Thoenissen continued to insist that the

56
BA-MA RW 24/38, ‘Niederschrift der Anspruche des Chefs des Deutschen
Beschaffungsamtes in Frankreich Generalmajor Thoenissen’, Paris, 1 September 1942,
emphasis in original.
57
Ibid., emphasis in original.
58
NARA T 77/1221, ‘Die deutsche Wehr- und Rüstungswirtschaft in Frankreich vom
3.7.1940 bis 31.3.1943’, Barckhausen, undated but 1943.
 The growing gap between French and German interests 121

French and Germans must stop conceiving of production in a national

framework and instead should ‘speak only of an overall European
armaments capacity’. Within the European realm production would be
integrated: ‘rational operating factories’ would be used and all ‘irrational
operating factories’ would be closed, regardless of their national affilia-
tion.59 Sensing perhaps that appeals to a shared and bright future might
ring hollow by 1942, Thoenissen emphasized another aspect of politics:
anti-communism. The French, he explained, must be made to under-
stand that the West in general was engaged in a life-and-death struggle
against Bolshevism in which France must do its part – a part he defined
principally in terms of ‘maximum economic performance (wirtschaftliche
Hochstleistung)’.60 To be sure, Thoenissen’s anti-communism was not
simply instrumentalist. Many high-ranking MbF officials adhered to
Nazism, among them Barckhausen who in 1942 described the ‘national
socialist Weltanschaaung’ as the ‘basis of the current spiritual leadership of
the German armed forces’.61 But if Thoenissen’s anti-communism was
doubtlessly sincere, in framing the war as an anti-Bolshevik crusade the
occupation authorities also sought to motivate the French to increase their
contribution to the German war effort.
It would be wrong to dismiss the appeal of anti-communism to Vichy.
In June 1942, Premier Pierre Laval notoriously declared that he ‘desired
the victory of Germany’ for otherwise ‘Bolshevism would tomorrow
install itself everywhere.’62 Laval, moreover, was not alone. On a visit to
Berlin the month before, Lehideux had announced that ‘the war against
Bolshevism is really Europe’s war, [it is] the defence of a civilization
that belongs to all European peoples’.63 Lehideux’s evolving views
on industrial collaboration will be discussed below. But for now it is
enough to note that there is little reason to believe that the Germans
could rely on anti-communism to stimulate the French to greater efforts.
Although hostility to communism was rife within French political and
economic circles, the idea of an anti-Bolshevik crusade possessed limited

59
BA-MA RW 24/38, Thoenissen to Barckhausen, 9 September 1942, emphasis in original.
60
Ibid., ‘Niederschrift der Anspruche des Chefs des Deutschen Beschaffungsamtes in
Frankreich Generalmajor Thoenissen’, Paris, 1 September 1942, emphasis in original.
61
BA-MA RW 24/5, ‘Anspruche des Chefs des Wehrwirtschafts- und Rüstungsstabes
Frankreich Generalleutnant Barckhausen anlässlich des Auflösungs-Appels am 28. Juli
1942, 12 Uhr’, 28 July 1942. For the Nazi affinities of the MbF in general, see Eismann,
Hôtel Majestic, 111–25.
62
Fred Kupferman, Pierre Laval (Paris, 1976), 337.
63
AN 3W/217, ‘Résumé de l’exposé fait par Monsieur François Lehideux au cours des
entretiens qu’il a eus à Berlin les 18 et 19 mai 1942 avec le Maréchal de l’air Milch et le
Général von Loeb’, undated.
122 A year of transition: 1942

attraction, reverberating principally with the small group of ideologically

committed collaborators in Paris such as Marcel Déat and Jacques
Doriot. Still more to the point, by 1942 the growing doubts about the
likelihood of a German victory meant that the French would have to
consider other factors, among them the possibility of an Allied victory.
In this situation, it would become even harder for the Germans to con-
vince French companies to align their interests unconditionally with those
of Germany. Profits and politics would not be enough. If the occupation
authorities wanted to exploit more fully France’s industrial capacity,
something more was needed. One possibility was for the Germans to
assume a more active role in industrial matters.

German policy: the reorganization of the MbF’s

economic administration
One must begin with developments in Germany. In February 1942, Hitler
appointed Albert Speer as armaments minister to replace Fritz Todt, who
had just died in an airplane accident. After the war, Speer would help to
propagate the idea of an ‘armaments miracle’ under his competent and
technocratic leadership. Before his appointment, the story goes, German
war production was crippled by inefficiencies in a variety of areas ranging
from the allocation of scarce resources to production methods and the
pricing of contracts. Once in office, Speer moved quickly to streamline
Germany’s industrial effort, injecting significant doses of rationalization,
concentration and central direction, all of which resulted in impressive
gains in output. In recent years, Speer’s self-serving account has been
subjected to thorough revision. His claim to have been an apolitical
technocrat largely ignorant of the Nazi regime’s crimes is no longer
credible in light of Germany’s massive recourse to slave labour under
his watch, which he not only accepted but vigorously pursued. As for the
‘armaments miracle’, scholars have convincingly shown that notable
jumps in output, to the extent that they existed, cannot be attributed to
any wondrous abilities on Speer’s part. Instead, they were the combined
result of earlier reforms and investments and of increasingly desperate and
ruthless methods to mobilize various factors of production, among them
slave labour.64

64
On the ‘economic miracle’, see Tooze, The Wages of Destruction, 552–89; Jonas Scherner and
Jochen Streb, ‘Das Ende eines Mythos? Albert Speer und das so genannte
Rüstungswunder’, Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 93 (2006), 172–96;
and Lutz Budrass, Flugzeugindustrie und Luftrüstung in Deutschland 1918–1945
(Düsseldorf, 1998). For the argument that Speer was anything but apolitical, see
Gitta Sereny, Albert Speer: His Battle with Truth (London, 1995).
 The reorganization of the MbF’s economic administration 123

But for all its mythic elements, Speer’s appointment as armaments

minister did mark a departure. Speer helped to inspire the regime with
an intensified sense of urgency in regard to the war economy. Within
days of taking office, he and Hitler agreed that the sole priority for
industrialists would be an immediate increase of armaments production
and that the ‘strongest punishment’ would be applied to those who failed
to comply.65 In addition to this sense of urgency, Speer introduced
significant changes to the administrative structure of the German
economy. From the outset, he strove to sideline his various institutional
rivals, most notably Göring’s Four Year Plan, the Economics Ministry
and the OKW’s economic and armaments section under General
Thomas. All three saw their authority rapidly dissolve as the Armaments
Ministry moved to the fore. At the same time, Speer pursued a
combination of centralized and decentralized economic direction. On
the one hand, he created the Zentrale Planung, an inter-departmental
body chaired by himself and charged with overseeing armaments
production. Given the expanding importance of the latter to the overall
German economy, Speer’s influence reached into a growing number
of areas. On the other hand, Speer encouraged the autonomy or
‘self-responsibility’ of industry by rapidly increasing the number of
committees and rings on which sat representatives of major
companies. Attached to the Armaments Ministry, the committees and
rings grouped together companies within industries and sub-industries
and were charged with organizing production, establishing production
programmes and managing the distribution of scarce matériels and
parts among member companies. No less importantly, they were to
pursue industrial rationalization by channelling production to targeted
companies, reducing product types and favouring the standardization
of parts.66
The automobile industry played a major role in Speer’s efforts to
reorganize Germany’s economic administration. Production levels for
the industry as a whole proved disappointing, falling well below needs.
Thus, while the Wehrmacht lost over 74,000 vehicles (of which about
31,100 were trucks) between December 1941 and March 1942, it
received only 7,441 new ones during this period. Worse still, the output
of trucks actually declined by 40 per cent between 1939 and 1940 and

65
Willi A. Boelcke, ed., Deutschlands Rüstung im Zweiten Weltkrieg. Hitlers Konferenzen mit
Albert Speer 1942–1945 (Frankfurt am Main, 1969), 19 February 1942, 16.
66
In addition to Tooze, see Bernhard R. Kroener et al., eds., Das Deutsche Reich und der
Zweite Weltkrieg, V/2: Kriegsverwaltung, Wirtschaft und Personelle Ressourcen 1942–1944/45
(Stuttgart, 1999), 275–326.
124 A year of transition: 1942

continued to stagnate throughout 1941.67 Clearly frustrated with these

results, Speer and Hitler decided in July 1942 to sideline the GBK and to
dismiss Schell, its head. As a result, the GBK was replaced by the
Hauptauschuss Kraftfahrzeuge, the committee for the automobile industry.
Under the leadership of Wilhelm Schaaf, the director of BMW, the
committee was more determined than ever to harness occupied Europe’s
industrial capacity to the German automobile industry. If for the moment
this meant above all sending French skilled workers to German factories,
Schaaf and his colleagues also searched for ways to increase the output
of factories in France.68
As the Hauptauschuss Kraftfahrzeuge’s thinking suggests, Speer’s
administrative reorganization had an impact in France. Speer was ruth-
lessly ambitious, and so it was not surprising that he sought to extend his
armaments empire to France, which accounted for almost 60 per cent of
all German contracts outside of Germany.69 But in the opening months of
1942, his task was greatly facilitated by the general sentiment reigning in
Berlin and Paris that the German economic administration in France was
not working. In February, the MbF’s economic and armaments section
admitted that production figures were ‘disproportionately lower’ in
France than in Germany and other occupied territories. The report
attributed this situation to France’s unique status as a (partially) occupied
country with an independent (Vichy) government. The Vichy authorities,
the COs and French industrialists all supposedly conspired to advance
‘purely French interests’. Starting from this assumption, the Germans
convinced themselves that considerable industrial capacity remained
available in occupied France.70 To tap this potential, however, the eco-
nomic administration would have to become more effective in order to

67
For vehicle losses, see Kirchberg and Bunke, Vom Horch zum Munga, 106; for trucks, see
Neil Gregor, Daimler-Benz in the Third Reich (New Haven, 1998), 141. For production,
see Maurice Olley, The Motor Car Industry in Germany during the Period 1939–1945
(London, 1949), 10–11.
68
For the Hauptauschuss Kraftfahrzeuge, see Boelcke, ed., Deutschlands Rüstung im Zweiten
Weltkrieg, 8 July 1942, 152–3; and Martin Pesch, Struktur und Funktionsweise der
Kriegswirtschaft in Deutschland ab 1942 – unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des organisator-
ischen und produktionswirtschaftlichen Wandels in der Fahrzeugindustrie (Köln, 1988), 81–91.
For the desire to exploit French industry, see SäSC, Auto Union 31050, 599,
Wirtschaftsgruppe Fahrzeugindustrie, ‘Niederschrift über die Beiratssitzung am 18.
November 1942’, 27 November 1942.
69
The figure is in terms of monetary value and is cited in Houwinck ten Cate, ‘Die
rüstungswirtschafliche Ausnutzung Westeuropas während der ersten Kriegshälfte’, 182.
70
BA-MA RW 24/17, Wi- und Rü Stabes Frankreich, ‘Lagebericht des Wehrwirtschafts-
und Rüstungsstabes Frankreich für Januar 1942’, 15 February 1942, and ‘Anlage zum
Lagebericht’, 12 February 1942; and NARA T 77/1256, Rü In Fr, ‘Grundlegende
Betrachtungen über in Frankreich noch vorhandene freie Kapazitäten’, 31 October 1942.
 The reorganization of the MbF’s economic administration 125

prevent the French from playing on German divisions, which the

occupation authorities viewed as an endemic problem. A more effective
administration was also necessary in order to force Vichy authorities
to rationalize French industries, principally by shutting down ‘unimpor-
tant’ factories. More generally, it would provide some measure of mastery
over what appeared to be a wayward situation. As mentioned in the
previous chapter, in 1940 the MbF had created a clearing house (ZASt)
to oversee the placing of German contracts in France; yet, despite clear
regulations, German industrialists and military procurement agencies
continued to place the vast majority of contracts directly with French
companies, ignoring the ZASt. Woefully uninformed about the overall
industrial situation, the MbF could only lament its ignorance and
impotence.71
Seizing on the widespread sense of dissatisfaction, Speer moved quickly
to overhaul the German economic administration in France. At a high-
level meeting in Berlin in June 1942, he sketched out a new organizational
framework that was designed to concentrate and centralize authority
under his own ministry. Soon, the MbF found itself stripped of much of
its influence over war production – much as the OKW had been in
Germany. While an economic staff remained in place under General
Barckhausen, it now served merely as the MbF’s representative with
Speer, concerning itself with ‘questions of an entirely general nature’.
Concrete issues would be dealt with by a new agency, the
Beschaffungsamt (procurement office), which was directly subordinate
to the Armaments Ministry. Modelled on similar agencies within
Germany, the Beschaffungsamt replaced the ZASt, its authority encom-
passing all German contracts in France, regardless of their origin. The
flipside to this expansion of German direction and control over industrial
policy was a reduction in French influence. The reorganization, Speer
explained at the June meeting, would make it impossible for French
industry to ‘play off one [German] procurement centre against another’.
More generally, it represented a challenge to the more cooperative
approach to industrial collaboration embodied in the Lehideux–
Thoenissen protocol of January 1941. Indeed, Speer specifically
mentioned Lehideux in underscoring his wish that French industrialists
be excluded from playing any role in the Beschaffungsamt.72

71
BA-MA RW 24/17, Wi- und Rü Stabes Frankreich, ‘Lagebericht des Wehrwirtschafts- und
Rüstungsstabes Frankreich für Januar 1942’.
72
BA-MA RW 24/38, ‘Niederschrift des Besprechung in Paris am 15.6.1942 nachmittage
unter Leitung des Ministers für Bewaffnung und Munition Reichsminister Speer’, Berlin,
18 June 1942. For the reorganization more generally, see Milward, The New Order and the
French Economy, 110–46.
126 A year of transition: 1942

Along with centralizing authority under his ministry, Speer also sought
to place French factories working for the Germans under closer surveil-
lance. Here, his chief instrument was the tiny armaments inspection staff
created in the summer of 1940; placed directly under the OKW, its task
was to oversee French production for the Wehrmacht.73 Speer expanded
this organization, most notably by increasing the size, number and duties
of its ‘armaments teams’ (Rüstungskommandos). He thus divided France
as a whole into fifteen regions, each with its own team and sub-teams. All
the teams were placed under a central armaments inspectorate (Rü In Fr)
which was itself subordinated to the Armaments Ministry in Berlin. The
armaments teams would interface directly with French companies work-
ing for the Germans, helping them to acquire labour and raw matériels
supplies while also prodding and, if necessary, bullying them into meeting
their assigned production targets. Working at ground level, the arma-
ments teams would strengthen the occupiers’ hand by providing them
with the detailed knowledge of French activities that had hitherto been
lacking. Industrial collaboration, as Speer reassured Pierre Laval the same
month, might continue, but the Germans clearly intended that it would
now do so more on their own terms.74
Several remarks are in order regarding the reorganization of the
German economic administration in occupied France. In expanding
his armaments empire, Speer sought to extend the administrative system
he was forging in Germany. Yet this aim suffered from a basic
problem: the absence on the French side of any equivalent to industry
‘self-responsibility’. In Germany, Speer believed he could rely on a
combination of nationalist-patriotic sentiment and self-interest to
encourage companies to work wholeheartedly for the war effort. Even
foreign- and enemy-owned companies, such as Ford-Werke or Opel
(GM), could be prodded to do so. In France, as we saw, however,
the occupation authorities themselves were convinced that the
situation was different. The ‘willingness to perform’ of the French
people, Speer’s own staff dourly noted at the end of 1942, had
‘fundamentally diminished’.75 It was becoming increasingly clear that

73
BA-MA RW 24/58, ‘Geschichte der Rüstungs-Inspektion Paris (vom 20.6. – 30.9.40)’,
undated but 1940.
74
For the armaments teams, see NARA T 77/1221, ‘Organisation der Rü-Dienststellen in
Frankreich’, no. 5400/42, 26 June 1942, Speer. For Laval, see BA-MA RW 24/38,
‘Aktennotiz über die Besprechung Minister Speer, Minister-präsident Laval in der
Deutschen Botschaft in Paris am 16. Juni 1942’, 19 June 1942.
75
NARA T 77/561, ‘Kriegstagebuch des Rüstungsstabes Frankreich des Reichministers für
Bewaffnung und Munition vom 1. Oktober 1942 bis 31. Dezember 1942’, 31 December
1942.
 The reorganization of the MbF’s economic administration 127

French companies, if left alone, could not be counted on to do their

utmost. To be sure, there existed little evidence of active opposition on
the part of French industrialists and workers. But this provided little
comfort to the Germans at a time when the worsening military situation
made it necessary to exploit French resources to the maximum extent
possible.
If industrial ‘self-responsibility’ was not feasible, then the
Germans would have to find a means to scrutinize French companies.
And this was precisely one of the principal tasks of the armaments
teams. Here, however, the problem was one of resources. The MbF’s
economic section had operated on a shoe-string in terms of
personnel, and Speer’s new agencies could expect to do the same.
Thus, in the autumn of 1942, the armaments team for the centre
of Paris comprised four officers and fifteen officials who were
responsible for overseeing 227 factories. Although the team would soon
be reinforced by an additional twenty-one sub-officers and enlisted
men (as well as eight female secretaries), its strength would remain well
below what was needed.76 A close surveillance of French companies
was simply impossible. Limited resources also meant a considerable
carry-over in personnel. Speer’s staff had no choice but to employ
numerous officials who possessed considerable experience working
with their French counterparts and who were committed to the more
collaborative approach that Speer hoped to replace with a more dictatorial
one. Figuring prominently among these officials was Thoenissen, who
Speer chose to head the Beschaffungsamt. Having built a close
professional and personal relationship with Lehideux over the first two
years of the Occupation, Thoenissen was unlikely to shut his door to
the COA’s chief.77 As we saw, Thoenissen was acutely aware that
the Germans needed French cooperation more than ever. Looking
ahead, Speer’s efforts to restrain French influence over industrial collab-
oration are important not so much because they succeeded but because
they helped to displace this influence to lower levels – and above all to the
company level.
Finally, it is worth noting that Speer failed to impose his ministry’s
authority in France. When it came to contracts, the Beschaffungsamt
did little better than the ZASt: its control of German contracts

76
BA-MA RW 24/98, ‘Kriegstagbuch des Rüstungskommandos Paris-Mitte des
Reichsministers für Bewaffnung und Munition für den Zeitabschnitt 1.8.1942–
30.9.1942’.
77
For one sign of the personal relationship between the two, see Thoenissen’s condolence
letter to Lehideux on the accidental death of his daughter. AN 3W/223, Thoenissen to
Lehideux, 1 April 1942.
128 A year of transition: 1942

would remain partial at best.78 But it was in the vital area of manpower
that Speer’s limited authority would be most apparent. In March 1942,
only one month after Speer’s appointment, Hitler named Fritz Sauckel,
the brutish Gauleiter of Thuringia, as his plenipotentiary for the
mobilization of labour in Germany and occupied Europe. Once in his
post, Sauckel adopted a hard-line position, demanding that considerable
numbers of French workers be sent to Germany, if necessary by forcefully
conscripting them. The French government cooperated in order to avoid
the worst, with the result that during 1942 almost 300,000 French men
and women went to Germany, in addition to the millions of French
prisoners of war already there; but these figures fell short of rising
German labour needs. The gap between expectations and reality
would trigger a spiral of pressure, coercion and resistance during
1943–4, as Sauckel’s officials increasingly resorted to dragooning
French manpower.79
Scholars generally portray Speer and Sauckel as bitter rivals in France.
While the first sought to increase French production in France, the
second undermined this goal by conscripting labour for work in
Germany. But for 1942, this portrait of deep-seated rivalry is overdrawn.
As Speer curtly informed the MbF in late 1942, Sauckel’s directives must
be obeyed.80 To be sure, Speer was too ambitious and too politically
savvy to oppose Sauckel, who was armed with a direct mandate from
Hitler and who enjoyed the latter’s favour. But if cooperating with
Sauckel made political sense at home, it could also serve Speer’s agenda
of rationalizing industrial production in France. Sending large numbers
of workers to Germany would force French authorities and industrialists
to make do with less manpower, a situation which imposed choices.
The effect, more concretely, would be to channel scarce labour supplies
to factories with German contracts while starving those factories working
for the French. This process would work not only between factories but
also within them. Cooperating with Sauckel’s staff, members of the
armaments teams would identify surplus workers in particular
factories; their removal, in turn, would leave French directors no choice
but to close down non-essential (non-German) production.

78
The situation in France appears to have been different from that in Holland, where
Speer’s staff did succeed in gaining control of contracts placed with Dutch companies.
Hein A. M. Klemann, ‘Dutch Industrial Companies and the German Occupation, 1940–
1945’, Vierteljahrschrifte für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 93 (2006), 1–22.
79
See Zielinski, Staatskollaboration: Vichy und der Arbeitskräfteeinsatz im Dritten Reich; and
Laub, After the Fall, 247–72.
80
BA-MA RW 24/39, ‘Anlagen zum Kriegstagebuch des Deutschen Beschaffungsamtes in
Frankreich für das IV. Vierteljahr 1942’, which includes Speer to Stülpnagel, undated.
 Reassessing industrial collaboration 129

As 1942 wore on, however, Speer’s concept of a mutually beneficial

relationship with Sauckel made less and less sense to his own staff in
France. Ruthlessly determined to scour all of Europe for workers,
Sauckel had become convinced by the autumn of 1942 that greater
coercion was needed to mobilize French labour for Germany. Fearing
the disruptive effects of this project, German armaments officials initially
sought to temper the pace of Sauckel’s labour drafts.81 Before long,
however, they concluded that Sauckel’s activities were hampering efforts
to mobilize French industry, complaining for example of the ‘psychological’
damage being afflicted and of the resulting ‘reduction of production’.82
True to character, Sauckel refused to budge on his demands, depriving
Speer’s staff of much of its authority over labour supplies in France. More
generally, Sauckel’s intransigence contributed to a flux in German atti-
tudes towards industrial collaboration, with Speer himself unsure whether
to privilege production in Germany or in France. As we shall see in the
next chapter, Speer would eventually opt to keep French workers working
in France. And what he wanted these workers to build first and foremost
were Ford trucks.

French policy: reassessing industrial collaboration

In the scholarship on Vichy France, the appointment of Pierre Laval as
head of government in April 1942 is often presented as a decisive moment
in Franco-German relations. ‘Collaboration’, Julian Jackson writes of the
event, ‘was now to enter a new stage.’83 Since his dismissal in December
1940, Laval had been angling to return to power, convinced that Germany
would win the war and that he alone could establish a long-term and
mutually beneficial collaboration for France. The failure of his predeces-
sor, Admiral François Darlan, to coax meaningful political concessions
from the Germans only confirmed Laval’s belief in his own indispens-
ability. Once in office, Laval centralized political authority around him-
self, sidelining Pétain and taking over the Foreign Affairs, Interior and
Information Ministries. During the coming months, he seized every
opportunity for concrete cooperation with the occupiers, seeking in
the process to safeguard and expand Vichy’s autonomy and to
persuade Germany to offer political concessions to France. Moral

81
BA-MA RW 24/38, ‘Aktenvermerk zur Sitzung am 16.9.42 16 Uhr’, 29 September 1942;
also see RW 19/719, ‘Aktenvermerk über die Besprechung des Organisationsausschusses
des Deutschen Beschaffungsamtes in Frankreich am 4.IX.42’, Paris, 5 September 1942.
82
BA-MA RW 24/89, ‘Kriegstagebuch’, Rü Kdo Paris Ost, 27 September 1942.
83
Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 185.
130 A year of transition: 1942

considerations played little role in Laval’s policy, a point underscored by

the notorious involvement of Vichy authorities in the implementation of
the ‘Final Solution’ in France. For Laval, Jews (and especially foreign
Jews) were a means to his larger end of forging a genuine Franco-German
partnership.84
But during 1942, Laval also viewed economic and especially industrial
collaboration as an important tool in his wooing of the Germans. As he
explained to a gathering of presidents of the Comités d’organisation:
France’s salvation, at a moment when Germany is preparing the final offensive
against Russia, is in total obedience, without mental reservations. France can
seize, in playing an economic role in the victory, a historic chance to modify her
destiny. From being a defeated country she can become a nation integrated in the
new European ensemble.85
In the industrial realm, this calculation implied an all-out effort by French
companies to produce matériel for the Germans. But if the imperative to
produce needs to be understood in the context of Laval’s post-war ambi-
tions regarding France’s place in a new Europe, it is also true that during
1942–3 more immediate imperatives dominated policy. Sauckel’s emerg-
ing campaign to recruit labour for Germany made it all the more urgent to
increase French industry’s contribution to the German war effort. Well
aware that labour conscription was unpopular with the French, Laval
sought to gain counter-benefits that would appease public opinion, most
notably the return of French POWs. At the same time, he understood that
the only hope of restraining Sauckel lay in demonstrating that French
workers were already working hard in France. It is hardly surprising, then,
that in June 1942 Laval promised Speer his full support.86
Michel Margairaz and Henry Rousso, two leading French historians,
argue that Laval’s return to power opened a new and more intensive phase
in Germany’s economic exploitation of France.87 But this begs the ques-
tion of whether Laval could count on the support of French authorities
and industry in his pursuit of industrial collaboration. The answer is far
from straightforward. In April 1942, Laval promoted Jean Bichelonne to
secretary-general for industrial production (and minister from November
1942), replacing Lehideux who had occupied the post during the

84
On the Holocaust in France, see Serge Klarsfeld, Vichy-Auschwitz: le rôle de Vichy dans la
solution finale de la question juive, 2 vols. (Paris, 1983–5); and Michael R. Marrus and
Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France and the Jews (New York, 1981).
85
Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 215.
86
BA-MA RW 24/38, ‘Aktennotiz über die Besprechung Minister Speer, Minister-
Präsident Laval in der Deutschen Botschaft in Paris am 16. Juni 1942’.
87
Michel Margairaz and Henry Rousso, ‘Vichy, la guerre et les entreprises’, Histoire,
économie et société, 11 (1992), 362–3.
 Reassessing industrial collaboration 131

preceding nine months. A self-styled technocrat whose knowledge,

capacity for work and sheer brilliance impressed almost everyone who
knew him, Bichelonne was committed to a wide-ranging overhaul of the
French economy which included the reorganization and rationalization of
industry to make it more efficient, productive and competitive. If, like
Laval, he looked principally to the post-war period, Bichelonne also
believed that the context of war and occupation offered an opportunity
to lay the groundwork for this larger project. Some sense of Bichelonne’s
ambitions comes from a lengthy memorandum written in April 1942 by
René Norguet, a high-ranking MPI official and close collaborator.
Norguet began with a plea for more economic ‘order’ because ‘every-
where there is immense disorder’: ‘There exist in France 22,000 types of
ploughs, 1,300 types of forks, 70 types of iron bathtubs. In 1939 we
produced 52 types of passenger cars as well as far too many types of
locomotives, of trawlers, of cargo ships, of engines of all kinds, etc.’ For
Norguet, imposing order meant developing a far-reaching ‘plan’ in which
the MPI, the Comités d’organisation and industrialists would work
together to reequip French industry, to normalize production processes,
to reduce product types and to concentrate production in specialized
factories. This programme would admittedly take time, but he insisted
nevertheless that work begin immediately despite the uncertainty
concerning the future:
What will peace look like, what will be the Europe and the economic world of
tomorrow? No one knows exactly; but just as [earlier] we badly prepared the
means to resist the [German] attack with the excuse that we did not know its
location, its date, the form of this attack; we should not fail to prepare the future
simply on the excuse that several elements are unknown to us.88

But Norguet’s memorandum is also interesting for what it omitted – any

appeal to collaboration with the Germans. This omission is perhaps not
surprising given Norguet’s later activities. Unlike Bichelonne, who
remained committed to working with the occupiers to the bitter end,
Norguet eventually joined the resistance, finishing the war in a German
concentration camp. Yet Norguet’s memorandum was not simply an
expression of personal politics; nor did it amount to a flight from reality.
Instead, it reflected the growing divisions within Vichy itself on the issue of
industrial collaboration. For Norguet, the overhaul of France’s economy

88
AN F12/10831, ‘Programme d’action économique. Les comités d’organisation – les
administrations publiques’, Secrétariat d’état à la production industrielle, no. 41, 460
DG, 20 April 1942, Norguet, emphasis in original. For Bichelonne more generally,
see Guy Sabin, Jean Bichelonne. Ministre sous l’Occupation 1942–1944 (Paris, 1991),
38–9, 49–52.
132 A year of transition: 1942

had by 1942 become a French rather than Franco-German project. He

insisted not only that ‘salvation can only come from ourselves’ but also
that the French be prepared for ‘confrontations’ with the Germans in
order to promote our ‘national individuality and independence’. Unlike
Bichelonne and Laval, Norguet conceived of France’s economic renewal
not with the Germans but without and even against them. The German
authorities, in other words, were right to suspect that some French
officials at least called into question the nature and value of economic
collaboration with Germany.
The tendency to question economic collaboration manifested itself in a
variety of ways. At the broadest level, officials affirmed French interests
with greater confidence and determination. Thus, in June 1942 the
armaments section of the French armistice commission flatly refused
German requests for information on the internal running of French
companies on the grounds that such information belonged exclusively to
French industrialists. Overall, the French delegation to the armistice
commission grew more assertive during 1942, resisting German demands
for unlimited access to industrial capacity in the unoccupied zone while
also insisting that the French alone had the authority to ‘direct, to control
and to watch over’ production. As Couve de Murville, a high-ranking
French delegate, tellingly lectured his German counterparts in early 1942,
‘it is. . .normal that the responsible ministers preoccupy themselves with
directing French production in order to satisfy in the first instance
[France’s] domestic needs’.89 This newly found assertiveness on the
part of French officials would complicate the efforts of the occupation
authorities – and of Speer’s reorganized economic administration in
particular – to increase production by rationalizing and concentrating
French industry.
The assertiveness of French officials was also apparent on the more
specific subject of American-owned companies. As noted earlier, in 1941
the MPI had expressed interest in naming its own administrators to these
companies in order to restrain the authority of German-appointed admin-
istrators. When French officials first began discussing this possibility, they
promised to seek German approval in advance of any appointments – a
promise they reiterated in January 1942. In the coming months, however,
the MPI often ignored this promise, provoking the ire of the Germans.

89
AN AJ 41/559, ‘Note pour la Commission allemande d’armistice (Sous-Commission
“RUSTUNG”)’, Délégation française auprès de la Commission allemande d’armistice.
Sous-Commission ‘Armament’, no. 37839, 30 June 1942; for Murville, see AJ 41/110,
‘Compte-rendu de la réunion du 29 janvier 1942, à 11h’, Délégation française auprès de
la Délégation allemande d’armistice pour l’économie, no. 102/DE, undated.
 Lehideux and the COA 133

From the beginning, moreover, Vichy authorities made it clear that they
would oppose any effort to equip German administrators with far-reaching
powers. Thus in a lengthy letter in January 1942, Jacques Barnaud, in
charge of economic relations with the occupiers, complained to the head
of the MbF’s economic administration of Germany’s ‘economic guard-
ianship’ (tutelle), which supposedly handicapped Vichy’s own ‘exercise of
power’. Moving beyond generalities, Barnaud raised the issue of German
administrators for American-owned companies, warning against any
attempt to use them as a means to gain ‘control. . .of the entire French
economy’. The very possibility, Barnaud added, provoked ‘profound
disquiet’ on the French side.90 With good reason, it seems, Dollfus
assured Ford Dearborn the same month that he could count on ‘a support
from the French Government’ in preserving Ford SAF’s ‘French
indepedency [sic]’.91

Lehideux and the COA

As indicated in the previous chapter, Lehideux was a leading proponent of
economic and especially industrial reorganization, a project which
included a large measure of rationalization and concentration of
France’s productive capacity. As secretary of state for industrial produc-
tion from July 1941 to April 1942, Lehideux found himself well placed to
lobby for this project. In addition to recommending a ten-year plan for the
modernization of various sectors of the French economy, he pushed Vichy
to adopt concrete measures, supporting for example a proposed law in late
1941 that would allow the government to requisition labour, thus forcing
some companies to shut down. Similarly, Lehideux sought to stiffen
Vichy’s resolve to oppose the pressure of small- and medium-sized com-
panies, which vigorously lobbied against rationalization schemes on the
understandable grounds that they would be disadvantaged. As late as
February 1942, he pleaded for the French government to define a ‘single
policy regarding the concentration of [industrial] enterprises’.92
Laval’s return to power, however, led to a loss of influence for
Lehideux. Not only did Lehideux lose his ministerial position, but it
also appears that the new government sought to sideline him by offering
the post of French ambassador to Argentina – a posting that would have

90
AN 3W/52, Barnaud to Michel, 22 January 1942.
91
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 260, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 28 January 1942.
92
For Lehideux, see ‘Décisions prises en comité économique du 27 février 1942’; ‘Procès-
verbal de la séance du 14 Octobre 1942’; and ‘Compte-rendu de la réunion du Comité
économique interministériel tenue à Paris le 1er Octobre 1941’, all in AN F 60/591.
134 A year of transition: 1942

left Lehideux far removed from the political worlds of Vichy and Paris.93
Although Lehideux turned down the offer, two points are worth under-
scoring. The first is that the COA now became his sole official source of
authority within Vichy. Ambitious as he was, it was unlikely that Lehideux
would abstain from attempting to influence larger political-economic
developments in France. But in doing so, his principal instrument
would be the French automobile industry. In other words, Lehideux
needed the latter as much as – if not more than – it needed him. The
second and obvious point is that by mid-1942 he seemed to be out of step
with Laval’s government.
The question is why were the two out of step? It is possible that Laval,
jealous of his authority, wanted to eliminate a potential rival whose arro-
gance and loyalty to Pétain he found threatening. But it is likely that
differences over the course of industrial collaboration also played a role.
In principle, Lehideux remained committed to working with the
Germans. In Berlin in May 1942 for high-level talks, Lehideux reiterated
his support for collaboration, claiming with considerable exaggeration
that it had already produced tens of thousands of trucks for the German
war effort. Like Laval, he assured his hosts that Germany’s war against
Bolshevism was a common European one. And again like Laval, he sought
to trade France’s participation in the construction of a new Europe for
significant political concessions. The Germans, he insisted, must stop
treating France as a defeated enemy and instead respect its sovereignty
and independence. But if up to this point Lehideux had said nothing that
Laval himself could not have said, he distinguished himself by openly
expressing doubts about the wisdom of continued collaboration with the
Germans. Speaking frankly, Laval declared that his considerable invest-
ment in collaboration over the last two years had produced absolutely no
‘political benefit’. This situation, Lehideux implied, could not continue.94
Obviously, Lehideux’s comments were part of a bargaining strategy
aimed at extracting concessions from the Germans. But they can also be
read as a sign of his growing ambivalence towards industrial collaboration.
This is not to argue that Lehideux began to resist the Germans. As head of
the COA, he maintained a close working relationship with the GBK and
then with the Beschaffungsamt which, to recall, was headed by
Thoenissen. Thus, throughout 1942, the COA cooperated with the occu-
pation authorities in the fixing of production programmes on a trimester

93
APP GA L10, dossier François Lehideux, report of 5 July 1942.
94
AN 3W/217, ‘Résumé de l’éxposé fait par Monsieur François Lehideux au cours des
entretriens qu’il a eus à Berlin les 18 et 19 mai 1942 avec le Maréchal de l’Air Milch et le
Général von Loeb’, undated.
 Lehideux and the COA 135

basis for the automobile industry as a whole and for its member companies
in particular. Under Lehideux, the COA also continued to serve as a
valuable intermediary between French companies on the one hand and
German companies, the German automobile industry (Hauptauschuss
Kraftfahrzeuge) and the German authorities on the other.95 Speer’s
guidelines notwithstanding, the Germans refrained from reducing
Lehideux’s role in industrial collaboration for the simple reason that to
do so would have been counter-productive. As a German assessment
concluded at the end of 1941, the ‘increase in German armaments con-
tracts with French industry would have been impossible’ without
Lehideux’s ‘loyal cooperation’.96
But if the COA maintained its practical cooperation with the
Germans, it is also true that Lehideux became more assertive in defending
what he perceived to be French interests. He thus vigorously opposed
labour conscription for Germany, insisting that French workers would
be more productive in French factories. Admittedly, this opposition
did not set him apart from Laval’s government, which also strove to
keep French workers in France. More telling, accordingly, is Lehideux’s
mounting resistance to German efforts to rationalize the French
automobile industry. In the summer of 1942, the German authorities
effectively issued an ultimatum on the subject. Addressing the represen-
tatives of the major automobile companies, General Schell, in one of his
last acts as GBK head, declared that over the coming year the number of
truck types produced by the French industry as a whole must be reduced
to four. Production of these types would be concentrated in a smaller
number of factories, entailing the closure of some. Although asking for
French cooperation, Schell made it clear that he would resort to compul-
sion if necessary: ‘[I] prefer to work under conditions of mutual goodwill
rather than being forced, sooner or later, to employ other means to arrive
[at my goal].’97
Significantly, while the MPI remained interested in rationalizing the
automobile industry, though arguably more on French than on German
terms, Lehideux appears to have abandoned his earlier enthusiasm for the
project. Not only did he refuse to cooperate with the occupation
authorities, he was also prepared to call their bluff. In what amounted to
a rejection of Schell’s ultimatum, Lehideux proposed to draw up a
production programme that would distribute the work associated with

95
See the files in NARA T 73/2 and AN 3W/226.
96
AN 3W/220, Paris embassy to Auswärtiges Amt, Berlin, 9 December 1941 and 18 April
1942.
97
AN 3W/231, ‘Discours du Général von Schell aux Constructeurs français’, 20 July 1942.
136 A year of transition: 1942

German contracts more evenly among automobile companies and their

suppliers. This would allow the maximum number of companies (and
workers) to keep working.98 Confronted with strong German pressure,
moreover, Lehideux dug in his heels. Later in the same year, in a meeting
with Thoenissen, he ostensibly agreed to cooperate with Speer’s arma-
ments staff, only to insist on conditions that, if accepted, would preclude
the concentration of French industry. He thus demanded that the COA be
given control over the placing of contracts, empowering it to decide which
companies received work. He also contended that the automobile indus-
try be allowed to continue producing French vehicles for the remainder of
the war. Only by so doing, he explained, could French companies retain
their ‘mechanical skills’ and ‘continue to make progress and improve-
ments to their products’.99 Whereas Thoenissen focused on Germany’s
immediate needs, Lehideux looked towards the post-war future. And this
future was one that the French automobile industry would forge largely on
its own.

Ford SAF at the beginning of 1942

The year 1942 proved to be a tumultuous one for Ford SAF. Initially,
everything seemed to be going well. As the previous chapter recounted, by
the opening months of 1942 Dollfus had succeeded in thwarting
Ford-Werke’s threat to his company’s independence. Ford SAF would
contribute to Ford-Werke’s larger production programme, but it
would retain full control of its own operations. In the process, Dollfus
had gained powerful allies in Lehideux and the COA. Meanwhile, in early
1942 Ford SAF resolved its long-running dispute with Mathis. Although
the settlement cost 5.5 million francs, it put a final end to the contentious
relationship between the two companies following their merger in 1934.
With its ‘hands clear’, as Dollfus reported, Ford SAF could now chart its
own course. For Dollfus, North Africa loomed large in his future plans as
Ford SAF continued to develop the project of creating an affiliate. Having
founded Ford Afrique at the end of 1941 with an initial capital of between
30 and 40 million francs, Dollfus began to scout out possible sites in
Algeria (Oran). Soon, Ford SAF received a contract from the French

98
AN 3W/231, COA to GBK, no. 10844, 9 July 1942. Earlier, in March 1942, Lehideux, as
secretary of state for industrial production, had rejected German requests that local
French and German officials work together to identify companies and factories to be
closed. See AN 3W/52, ‘Compte-rendu d’une réunion du 25 Mars à l’Hôtel Majestic’, 26
March 1942.
99
BA-MA RW 24/39, ‘Übersetzung: Bericht über die Besprechung auf dem Deutschen
Beschaffungsamt am 6.11.1942’, undated.
 Ford SAF at the beginning of 1942 137

government to build 30 trucks destined for use in Africa, a figure which it

hoped would be raised to 100. Although this fell well short of the 400
trucks that Dollfus, with typical exaggeration, had cited in a letter to Ford
Dearborn, the contract did nonetheless augur well for the future.100
In early 1942, however, Ford SAF’s immediate future centred on
France. And here, the prospects appeared particularly promising. ‘Our
situation’, Dollfus enthused in January 1942, ‘is the best one of all the
French Automobile manufacturers.’101 Ford SAF had finally succeeded
in concentrating its activities at Poissy, closing down its Bordeaux and
Asnières plants; the latter was sold for 21 million francs and the money
largely invested in Poissy. At the beginning of 1942, Poissy was basically
complete. Well before then, Ford SAF had begun working almost exclu-
sively for the German war effort, producing 3.2-ton and 5-ton trucks
(both parts and entire vehicles). During 1941, it delivered almost 4,000
trucks to the Germans as well as another 4,109 truck engines, 4,173 rear
axles and 4,000 other parts to the Ford plants in Antwerp and
Amsterdam, both of which worked for Ford-Werke.102 If 1940 had been
a successful year financially, with the company earning over 5 million
francs in net profits, 1941 was even better as net profits quadrupled to
more than 22 million francs, by far the best showing since 1930.103
Though describing Ford SAF’s short-term financial state as ‘delicate’
due to German slowness in settling accounts, spending on Ford Afrique
and the possibility that the French government would demand the refund-
ing of pre-defeat loans, Dollfus was notably upbeat. Thanks to German
contracts, Ford SAF had all the work it could handle. And since the
occupiers offered attractive prices, profits could reasonably be expected
to rise even further.104
To be sure, Dollfus did not ignore the difficulties confronting Ford
SAF. Probably the greatest one concerned the availability of raw matériels
(including energy). In an economy of growing scarcity the regular
provision of adequate supplies was anything but guaranteed. Indeed, in

100
For details, see BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, ‘Ford S.A.F. Minutes of the Board
Meeting Held on February 18, 1942’, undated; and ACC 6, Box 255, Dollfus to Edsel
Ford, 25 November 1941.
101
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 260, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 28 January 1942.
102
See AN AJ 40/610, ‘Bericht des stellvertretenden Verwalters für die Firma Ford Société
Anonyme Française. . .über die Gesellschaft nach dem Stand von Juli 1942’, 6 August
1942.
103
See Appendix A.
104
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, ‘Ford S.A.F. Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on
January 20, 1942’, undated. By early 1942, the dispute between Ford SAF and Ford-
Werke over prices had been settled to Dollfus’ satisfaction. See his comments in ibid.,
‘Ford S.A.F. Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on February 18, 1942’.
138 A year of transition: 1942

December 1941 shortages of various matériels led to the closing of Poissy

for ten days. Several months earlier, Dollfus had reported that the
challenge of securing raw matériels was ‘becoming daily greater – almost
insurmountable’.105 In addition to hampering output, shortages had a
deleterious effect on quality as Ford SAF found itself forced to use sub-
stitutes. But if the issue of shortages preoccupied Dollfus, it was also one
that he believed could be managed. His optimism is partly explained by
Ford SAF’s close relations with the COA and with the GBK, which
helped in gaining access to scarce supplies. In the last quarter of 1941,
for example, its allocation of ferrous and non-ferrous metals was the third
largest among the major automobile companies.106 If Dollfus understood
that the French and German authorities could not meet all of his matériel
needs, he remained confident that Ford SAF could rely on their aid to
keep Poissy going.
Another source of optimism was Ford SAF’s ability to go outside
of official channels to find matériels. In 1941, Dollfus wrote that the
company was ‘scraping’ France for supplies and even employing
‘irregular’ means.107 More precisely, this meant recourse to the black
market (or markets). As several scholars have shown, the institution of
black markets flourished in wartime France as a mix of shortages, ration-
ing and price controls created powerful incentives to direct scarce goods
away from ‘official’ markets. It was not simply individuals and families
who bought and sold goods on the black market. Exploiting their massive
advantage in purchasing power, the occupation authorities created an
extensive organization to tap these markets: by 1943, there were over
200 German purchasing agencies in Paris alone. But as the Germans
themselves recognized, the black market was an indispensable resource
for companies such as Ford SAF who possessed German contracts (and
money).108 The risk of sanction was practically inexistent since ‘black
market practices’, as Paul Sanders argues, were regarded by the German
(and French) authorities as ‘economic normality’.109 It does not appear,
in any case, that Ford SAF had to be prodded to use the black market

105
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 255, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 21 August 1941.
106
AN 3W/221, COA Service technique, ‘Programme allemande 4e trimestre 1941.
Publiée le 1er Octobre 1941’, undated.
107
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 255, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 9 June and 6 August 1941.
108
NARA T 77/1255, ‘Geschichte der Rüstungs Inspektion A (Paris und Nordwest-
Frankreich). II. (1.10.1940–31.12.1941)’, undated.
109
Paul Sanders, ‘Economic Draining – German Black Market Operations in France,
1940–1944’, Global Crime, 9 (2008), 141 and 136–68. For the black market, also see
his Histoire du marché noir, 1940–1946 (Paris, 2001); Fabrice Grenard, La France du
marché noir (1940–1949) (Paris, 2008); and Kenneth Mouré, ‘Food Rationing and the
Black Market in France (1940–1944)’, French History, 24 (2010), 262–82.
 Ford SAF at the beginning of 1942 139

but rather that it did so voluntarily. And this underscores a larger point: in
1941 and into 1942 Ford SAF’s perceived interests ran parallel to those of
the German occupiers, which was to produce as many trucks and truck
parts as possible.
If the raw matériel situation proved preoccupying, the possibility of
labour unrest was also a cause for concern. Across France, Germany’s
invasion of the Soviet Union in June 1941 led to an upswing in political
activity among some workers, much of which was attributed to commu-
nists. Political pamphlets and graffiti inside as well as outside factory walls
were the most visible sign of this activity. In February 1942, the French
police searched Ford SAF’s Poissy plant, discovering numerous political
tracts and detaining some thirty workers for questioning.110 But although
both the French and German authorities feared that communist-inspired
workers might attempt to sabotage production, the greater challenge for
Ford SAF came from the mounting unhappiness of its workforce with
working conditions. Already in May 1941, a clandestine pamphlet
had denounced lay-offs at Poissy, remarking that Ford SAF’s directors
displayed a ‘sadistic hatred’ while at the same time ‘kow-towing to the
occupiers’. By the end of the year, however, grumbling focused on the
widening gap between the cost of living and salaries: in December,
another pamphlet urged workers to submit ‘lists of demands’ in which
salary increases figured prominently. Two months later, the French police
reported on the growing disquiet among the workers at Ford SAF,
warning of the possibility of limited strike action.111
Dissatisfaction with salaries was, in fact, a widespread phenomenon at
the time. The combination of inflation and wage freezes, the latter
imposed by the Germans who sought to keep living standards in France
below those in Germany, translated into a steady decline in purchasing
power for French workers. Although some companies no doubt took
advantage of this situation to restrain wage scales, Ford SAF lobbied to
be allowed to raise them – a position that was fully in accord with Ford
Dearborn’s long-standing principle of offering comparatively favourable
wages.112 Together, Dollfus’ lobbying efforts and the threat of labour
unrest proved persuasive. In what amounted to a testimony to its impor-
tance to Germany’s war effort, Ford SAF received permission in February
1942 to raise wages by 25 per cent. While this measure did not represent a

110
SHGN, 75 E 1433, Poissy, ‘Rapport’, 11 February 1942.
111
BNF, ‘Le Trait-d’Union Matford’, May and December 1941; SHGN, 75 E 1433,
Poissy, ‘Rapport’, 2 February 1942. For French fears of sabotage, see AN 19830589/1,
Secrétariat d’état à la production industrielle, circular on ‘Méthodes terroristes’, no.
51.956/S.E., 4 August 1942, with untitled attachment dated 24 July 1942.
112
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 6, Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 4 November 1941.
140 A year of transition: 1942

definitive solution to the global problem of falling living standards and

increasingly scarce consumer goods (including food), it did blunt worker
unrest at least temporarily. No doubt to Dollfus’ relief, the French police
soon reported that a measure of calm had returned to Poissy.113

The bombing of Poissy in March and April 1942

All told, Ford SAF had good reasons to be optimistic in the opening
months of 1942. Although raw matériel shortages and labour unrest were
ongoing causes of concern, both problems appeared to be manageable. At
a company board meeting in February, Dollfus exuded confidence
regarding the immediate future, remarking that ‘unless unforeseen
circumstances should arise, we expect to increase production in the
coming months’.114 ‘Unforeseen circumstances’, however, is precisely
what occurred several weeks later. On the night of 3–4 March and again
on 8 March the Royal Air Force (RAF) dropped several bombs on Poissy
as part of a larger bombing campaign against French factories. The best-
known raid is the one on the Renault works in Boulogne-Billancourt
which killed close to 400 people and caused 400 million francs in
damages.115 Ford SAF got off lightly by comparison: one person was
injured, twenty-five vehicles were destroyed and one building received
direct hits, damaging several departments in addition to the warehouse
and cafeteria. Total damages were estimated at 40 million francs.
Interested solely in results, the German authorities calculated a maximum
‘loss’ (Ausfall) of two-weeks’ worth of production.116
During the bombing raids, the RAF dropped tracts that made it clear
that Ford SAF and other factories were targeted because they were working
for the Germans.117 This clear-cut warning, however, appears to have had

113
SHGN, 75 E 1433, Poissy, ‘Rapport’, 26 February 1942. For working conditions in
general, see Patrick Fridenson and Jean-Louis Robert, ‘Les ouvriers dans la France de la
Seconde Guerre Mondiale. Un bilan’, Mouvement social, 158 (1992), 129–36.
114
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, ‘Ford S.A.F. Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on
February 18, 1942’.
115
See Martin Middlebrook and Chris Everitt, eds., The Bomber Command War Diaries
(Hinckley, 1996), 244–6. Also see Matt Perry, ‘Bombing Billancourt: Labour Agency
and the Limitations of the Public Opinion Model in Wartime France’, Labour History
Review, 77 (2012), 49–53; Lindsey Dodd and Andrew Knapp, ‘“How Many Frenchmen
did you Kill?”: British Bombing Policy towards France (1940–1945)’, French History,
26 (2008), 477–9.
116
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 6, Louis Evan (Ford SAF) to J. A. Gutzeit (Ford
Dearborn), 20 March 1942; NARA T 77/1248, Wi und Rü Stabes Frankreich,
‘Kriegstagebuch’, 8 March 1942; and SHGN, 75E 1433, ‘Renseignement relatif au
bombardement du 8 Mars 1942. Commune de Poissy’, 11 March 1942.
117
Perry, ‘Bombing Billancourt’, 57.
 The bombing of Poissy in March and April 1942 141

no deterrent effect on Ford SAF. The company immediately set out to

repair the damage, assigning about 100 workers (roughly 5 per cent of its
workforce) to the task. To reduce the risks of further losses, vehicles
were now hidden in nearby forests, presumably out of sight of British
bombers.118 At the same time, Ford SAF sought to put pressure on the
British to cease targeting Poissy. An ‘official protest’ was thus lodged with
the American embassy in Vichy against the British bombing. The protest
not only insisted that Ford SAF remained an American-owned and direc-
ted company, but explained that it was not making matériel but simply
trucks for the Germans. Just as importantly, it warned that if Ford SAF
was forced to stop production because of future air raids, the Germans
would simply seize a ‘very considerable quantity of tools and equipment’
and send it to Germany.119
Unfortunately for Ford SAF, its protest had no effect. In early April
1942, British bombers returned twice to Poissy, dropping some 50–100
bombs. Although no one was killed or injured, the matériel destruction
was considerable, easily eclipsing that caused by the earlier raids. In
addition to structural injury to buildings, numerous machines and
machine tools were damaged, including transformers and cranes, some
beyond repair. All told, some 400 machines (or 20 per cent of the total)
were partially or completely destroyed.120 A German report in August
1942 pegged the total costs of the raids to Ford SAF at 170 million francs,
64 million of which was for buildings, machines and machine tools. The
damage might easily have been greater but for the fact that many bombs
had failed to explode on contact.121 But even so, output, which had been
picking up after the March raids, came crashing to a ‘definitive halt’. The
American embassy in Vichy confirmed this state of affairs, informing
Washington in April 1942 that Ford SAF ‘is suspending all operations’.
Dollfus was uncertain about when production would be restarted, but
did admit in an uncharacteristically downbeat moment that it might
require ‘a very long lapse of time’.122

118
SHGN, 75E 1433, report, Poissy, 5 March 1943.
119
BFRC, Ford-Werke, NARA 0005414, telegram from American embassy, Vichy, to
secretary of state, 17 March 1942, Leahy.
120
BA-MA RW 24/46, Rü In Paris A, ‘Aktenvermerk’, 8 April 1942; CCFA,
‘Bombardement du 2 avril 1942’; and BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, Ford SAF,
‘Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on April 21st, 1942’, undated.
121
AN AJ 40/610, ‘Bericht des stellvertretenden Verwalters für die Firma Ford Société
Anonyme Française’; and SHGN, 75 E 1433, report, Poissy, 11 April 1942.
122
AP, Ford SAF, DOS 2008 RE-30422, Ford SAF, ‘Rapport sur la vie de Ford S.A.F.
pendant la guerre (1er Septembre 1939 – 1er Novembre 1944)’, 11–12; TNA, FO 954/8A,
paraphrase of report from US embassy, 17 April 1942; and BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box
2, Ford SAF, ‘Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on April 21st, 1942’.
142 A year of transition: 1942

The obvious question for Ford SAF was what to do now? One possibility
was to stop all activity for the duration of the war. Regarding companies in
general, scholars generally dismiss this option as unrealistic since it would
have amounted to suicide. And there is no doubt that the occupation
authorities would have confiscated Ford SAF’s plant and manpower if it
had refused to rebuild. Yet it is worth noting that some companies did at
least consider the possibility. A good example is Renault. Meeting in mid-
April 1942, high-ranking officials discussed whether to reconstruct the
badly damaged Boulogne-Billancourt plant, thereby incurring the risk of
attracting another visit from Allied bombers, or to ‘go dormant while
awaiting better times’. One admitted advantage of the latter option was
that it would reduce production for the German war economy. In the end,
however, the directors rejected what they termed the ‘easy solution’ of
shutting down, insisting that this would constitute a dereliction of duty to
their workers, to the company and to France. No less important was the
belief that Renault’s disappearance would benefit other automobile
companies which did not share its scruples and which would continue
to work for the Germans.123
It is unknown whether Dollfus weighed his options in the same man-
ner as did the directors of Renault. But it does appear that he quickly
decided to get Ford SAF up and running again as quickly as possible –
and thus working for the Germans. In many ways, Dollfus had little
choice since the occupation authorities clearly indicated that this is what
they wanted. Following the initial wave of raids in March 1942, the
MbF’s armaments and economic section created a reconstruction com-
mittee which, at its first meeting, identified Ford SAF’s Poissy plant as
among those in the Paris region that must be reconstructed.124 If this
priority meant that in principle the designated companies enjoyed priv-
ileged access to scarce manpower and matériels for reconstruction, the
question of financing proved more contentious. Initially, the occupation
authorities refused to contribute financially, noting that German con-
tracts included a 3 per cent premium for war insurance. Responsibility
for financing reconstruction, they accordingly contended, lay with the
French – both the government and individual companies. Yet because
they urgently needed the output of these factories, the Germans were

123
SHGR, carton 21, ‘Extraits de conférence faite par Mr. [sic] de Peyrecave aux directeurs,
chefs du départements et chefs de service de l’usine, le 13 avril 1942.’
124
BA-MA RW 35/720, ‘Niederschrift über die erste Sitzung des Wiederaufbau-
Ausschusses beim Wi Rü Stab Frankreich am 11.3.42’, 12 March 1942.
 The bombing of Poissy in March and April 1942 143

soon forced to make concessions: they thus agreed not only to price
increases but also to hefty advances on contracts, which companies could
use for reconstruction.125 The French authorities, meanwhile, were also
eager to see Ford SAF rebuilt. In one of his last measures as under-
secretary of state for industrial production, Lehideux announced in
March 1942 that the priority in reconstruction would be given to compa-
nies that had suffered relatively little damage – an announcement that
clearly favoured Ford SAF. Still more pertinently, the MPI exempted
Ford SAF from the rule that foreign-owned companies were ineligible for
financial aid. Before long, Ford SAF had received 38 million francs as well
as the promise that it would be reimbursed for 70–5 per cent of its
damages.126
But rebuilding Ford SAF would not be enough. The possibility that
Poissy might be attacked again could not be ignored. Indeed, in August a
lone British bomber would drop one bomb on Ford SAF. Accordingly,
Dollfus proposed to the ‘competent authorities’ what he described as a
‘“scattered production” plan’ to disburse capacity in several locations.
The Germans needed little convincing. In April 1942, the MbF’s recon-
struction committee discussed the possibility of relocating production to
‘prevent. . .a systematic destruction of the factories massed in and around
Paris’.127 Moving quickly, in May Ford SAF was instructed to ‘decentral-
ize’ its production facilities, with the result that over the next few months
factories were set up in five locations, four of which were near Paris
(including one in Poissy itself) and one in Bourges in central France.128
Not surprisingly perhaps, the decentralization of Ford SAF’s produc-
tive capacity proved difficult. One problem was financing. Although the
Germans agreed to another price increase (of 15 per cent) and the French
authorities promised to help defray the costs, neither measure appeared

125
SHGR, carton 132, ‘Note pour Monsieur de Boissanger, Gouverneur de la Banque de
France’, Délégation allemande d’armistice pour l’économie, no. 1857, 14 March 1942;
NARA T 77/1221, ‘Die deutsche Wehr- und Rüstungswirtschaft in Frankreich vom
3.7.1940 bis 31.3.1943’, Barckhausen; and T 77/638, German armistice commission,
‘Aktennotiz’, 18 March 1942.
126
AN 3W/221, ‘Note pour l’application de la loi du 1er Juilet 1941 (avances provisoires aux
industriels et commerçants sinistrés par actes de guerre dont les entreprises ont subi
seulement des dégâts partiels)’, 7 March 1942; and BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 260,
Dollfus to Edsel Ford, 15 August 1942.
127
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, Ford SAF, ‘Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on
April 21st, 1942’; and T 77/1248, Wi und Rü Stabes Frankreich, ‘Bericht der Ereignisse’,
9 April 1942.
128
AN F12/10155, ‘Note pour monsieur le ministre’, Secrétariat-général à la production
industrielle, 18 March 1943; and 3W/234, ‘Note pour le ministre’, 23 February 1943.
144 A year of transition: 1942

sufficient. In September 1943, Ford SAF’s board told Dollfus to negotiate

more money from the government – negotiations that would drag along
well into the post-war period. A final settlement would only be reached in
1956.129 Another and more immediate problem was that the new loca-
tions, as a post-war report noted, ‘were generally mediocre or insufficient
for the needs of our production’.130 A good example is the factory in
Bourges. In May 1942, Ford SAF took possession of two sites that could
in principle serve as factories for the production of several important
components of trucks, including crank-shafts and gear systems.
Although both sites possessed some equipment, such as cranes, and a
seemingly functioning heating system, almost everything else had to be
transferred from Poissy and then installed. Despite the best efforts of the
local German armaments authorities, who worked closely with Ford SAF
personnel, the problems quickly multiplied. In July, the Bourges sites still
lacked sufficient water and electricity supplies; meanwhile, a dispute
emerged about whether the property and facilities were to be leased by
Ford SAF or by the French state. Another problem concerned workers,
who were reluctant to relocate to Bourges where wages were significantly
lower than in the Paris region. If the decision, taken with German appro-
val, to apply Paris-area wage rates seemingly resolved this problem, the
lodging and provisioning of outside workers presented additional difficul-
ties. As a result, Ford SAF decided to hire workers locally but this
required supplemental training – and delays. Machinery was also in
short supply, with only 60 per cent of the estimated number needed
available. In the end, Ford SAF and the Germans eventually managed
to get the two factories running, but only on a reduced scale.131
Given the difficulties involved in dispersing production, Ford SAF soon
lost much of its initial interest in the project. Indeed, the company sought
a partial reversal of the decision. As early as June 1942, Ford SAF asked to
be allowed to repair and rebuild the Poissy plant, which had been emptied
of its machines and machine tools after the April air raids. Dollfus, it
seems, balked at the idea of leaving Poissy idle. Not only had Ford SAF
invested considerable effort, money and prestige in the Poissy plant; but
since its conception Poissy had encapsulated the vision of large-scale,

129
See the file ADY 222W 296.
130
AP, Ford SAF, DOS 2008 RE-30422, Ford SAF, ‘Rapport sur la vie de Ford S.A.F.
pendant la guerre (1er Septembre 1939 – 1er Novembre 1944)’, 12.
131
BA-MA RW 24/265, ‘Monatlicher Lagebericht’, Wi Kdo Bourges, no. 166/42, 18 May
1942; no. 175/42, 18 June 1942; no. 187/42, 18 July 1942; and AN AJ 40/610, ‘Bericht
des stellvertretenden Verwalters für die Firma Ford Société Anonyme Française’.
 The bombing of Poissy in March and April 1942 145

efficient and profitable production. Ford SAF could not be a major player
in the French automobile industry – whether now or in the future – with-
out Poissy. Whatever Dollfus’ precise thinking, his request to rebuild
Poissy met with a favourable response from the French authorities.
Interestingly, they justified their support not in terms of the larger
political project of Franco-German collaboration but rather in terms of
Ford SAF’s future. The MPI thus argued that Ford SAF needed Poissy to
maintain and increase its output, which was essential if the company
were to recoup its own investment in relocation while also repaying the
sizeable advances from the government. A second – and probably more
important – consideration was the need to fend off the threat from Ford-
Werke. If, due to the upheavals attendant on the dispersal of its productive
capacity, Ford SAF’s output continued to suffer, the company risked
being ‘replaced’ by its German rival.132
Unlike the French, the German authorities initially opposed Dollfus’
request to rebuild Poissy, pointing to the costs involved which were
estimated at 37 million francs. Equally important, the project would
take six to eight months and require large quantities of cement, wood,
brick, stone and metals at a time when all these products were in scarce
supply. During this period, production would be stalled. Yet, despite their
initial lack of enthusiasm, the German authorities soon warmed to the
idea of rebuilding Poissy, thanks in part to the efforts of Major Tannen,
Schmidt’s representative as administrator of Ford SAF. Realizing that
Dollfus’ proposal was unacceptable, Tannen took matters into his own
hand, hiring an architect from Ford-Werke, who had considerable expe-
rience in constructing Ford facilities in Europe, to prepare a plan for the
partial as opposed to complete reconstruction of Poissy. In August 1942,
the military authorities approved the plan and repair work quickly
began.133 But the German decision cannot be explained by Tannen’s
efforts alone. Deeply engaged in Case Blue, their second large-scale
military offensive against the Soviet Union, the Germans in the second
half of 1942 were in desperate need of all the trucks they could get. In this
situation, the promise of Poissy proved to be as captivating for the occu-
pation authorities as it was for Dollfus.

132
AN F12/10155, ‘Note pour monsieur le ministre’, Secrétariat-général à la production
industrielle, no. 11552, 13 March 1943.
133
AN AJ 40/610, ‘Bericht des stellvertretenden Verwalters für die Firma Ford Société
Anonyme Française. . .über die Gesellschaft nach dem Stand von Juli 1942’. In
September, Dollfus could inform Ford SAF’s board that repairs were being ‘carried on
normally and up to schedule’. See BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, Ford SAF, ‘Minutes
of the Board Meeting Held on September 30, 1942’, undated.
146 A year of transition: 1942

Ford SAF’s situation at the end of 1942

The British air raids in March and April 1942 shone a political spotlight on
Ford SAF. Before the bombs, the company could claim that its activities
were principally a business affair. Regardless of France’s defeat and
occupation, Ford SAF needed to keep its machines running, its workers
working and its profits flowing in. That this meant accepting German
contracts was perhaps unfortunate but it was also an unavoidable reality.
Even Ford SAF’s fierce resistance to the threat of take-over by
Ford-Werke had more to do with business than politics: Dollfus was
more than willing to work for the Germans so long as Ford SAF remained
independent. The air raids, however, collapsed the distinction between
politics and business. As the RAF pamphlets underscored, Ford SAF and
other companies were targeted precisely because they were contributing
to the German war effort. Afterwards, Dollfus could no longer pretend
that Ford SAF’s decisions and activities could somehow be divorced from
the larger course of the war.
Interestingly, the reaction of Ford Dearborn to the bombing under-
scored this last point. If the Americans offered their sympathy to
Ford SAF, they also expressed considerable relief. The air raids, Edsel
Ford explained to Dollfus, had been well covered in the American
press, but fortunately the reports referred to Matford and not Ford
SAF; as a result, ‘no reference was made to our possible connection
with this Company’.134 Clearly concerned about the possibility of
guilt by association, Ford Dearborn sought to distance itself from Ford
SAF in the wake of the air raids. In public, the Americans lied, assuring
the press that they had had no contact with ‘Matford’ since France’s
defeat. Behind the scenes, meanwhile, Ford Dearborn vetoed a proposal
from Dollfus to send an official to Dearborn to discuss the overall sit-
uation. ‘I am sure that you will understand our reasons’, Edsel Ford
informed Dollfus, adding that perhaps a visit could be arranged later
when the political situation was no longer in such an ‘uncertain
state’.135 Ford Dearborn, however, did not simply cut communications
with Ford SAF. During 1942, it completely wrote off its stock interest in
the French company, worth some $2.7 million, taking a tax credit.136

134
BFRC, FMC, ACC 6, Box 260, Edsel Ford to Dollfus, 13 May 1942. For one example,
see ‘R.A.F. Blasts Poissy Works; Loses 15 Planes in Big Raids’, New York Times, 3 April
1942, 1, 6.
135
‘Ford out of Touch since 1940’, New York Times, 3 April 1942, 6; and BFRC, FMC,
ACC 6, Box 260, Edsel Ford to Dollfus, 13 May 1942.
136
BFRC, FMC, ACC 714, Box 6, ‘Memorandum. General Summary of Position, Ford
S.A.F., with Recommendations’, 22 November 1948.
 Ford SAF’s situation at the end of 1942 147

For Ford Dearborn, Ford SAF’s production for the Germans had
very much become a political issue.
If Ford SAF could no longer ignore the political stakes involved in its
wartime activities, the company also found itself more committed than
ever to working for the Germans. It was not simply that this renewed
commitment was an obvious condition of German approval for
the rebuilding of Poissy. It is also that the extended discussions
concerning Ford SAF’s future in the wake of the British air raids drew
additional attention to the company at an especially delicate moment.
Mention has already been made of the growing concern among the
occupation authorities that French industry as a whole was not
contributing sufficiently to the German war effort. In the opening
months of 1942, Ford SAF’s results had been disappointing, with
production barely attaining the levels of 1941. The air raids and
subsequent dispersal of productive capacity predictably led to falls in
production. Dollfus, as usual, sought to disguise the reality with
rosy-eyed projections, but the Germans had their own figures which
indicated, for example, that in August 1942 Ford SAF produced 200
trucks and not the 300 claimed. For German armaments officials, the
pressing question in the autumn of 1942 was how to achieve a rapid
increase in Ford SAF’s production.
Rendering this question all the more urgent was the apparent
problem of quality. During 1942, numerous reports circulated from
German agencies complaining of Ford trucks. In a report in July,
the Organisation Todt described the quality of Ford SAF trucks as
‘downright catastrophic’, adding that ‘this creates the impression that
the assembly of the vehicle involves very shoddy work and [even]
sabotage’. Another assessment, based on an inspection of fifty Ford
SAF truck engines, concluded that they all contained ‘an abnormal
amount of sand and chips’.137 To be sure, other companies also
received complaints: in November 1941 and again in January 1942, for
example, the GBK criticized the quality of Peugeot’s small trucks.138
Given the rampant shortages of matériels and recourse to substitutes,
a reduction in quality was all but inevitable. Nevertheless, Ford SAF
had good reasons to be particularly concerned about quality complaints.
One reason is that it strengthened the impression among the Germans

137
AN 3W/234, Generalinspketor für das deutsche Strassenwesen (Organisation Todt) to
GBK West (Paris), no. 4320/42 K, 28 July 1942; and ibid., untitled note, 23 October
1942.
138
The reports are cited in AN Z/6NL/80, ‘Rapport à Monsieur Nicolet. Juge d’instruc-
tion’, Paul Caujolle and César Choron, 6 June 1946.
148 A year of transition: 1942

in France that something needed to be done with Ford SAF – that

some intervention was necessary. A second and related reason is that
Ford-Werke was prominent among the critics, complaining repeatedly
to the German authorities in Berlin and Paris about the poor quality
of Ford SAF’s production.139 As we shall see in the next chapter, Ford-
Werke would seek to exploit quality issues in a renewed bid to take control
of Ford SAF.

139
For example, see BA-MA RW 24/107, Rü Kdo Paris West, ‘Kriegstagebuch’, 25–31
January 1943; and AN 3W/227, ‘Note concernant les réclamations actuelles de Ford
Cologne’, 26 February 1943.
4 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

If 1942 was a year of transition, the first half of 1943 was a period of
decision. For the Germans, the deteriorating military situation, high-
lighted by the surrender of the remnants of the Sixth Army at Stalingrad
in February, generated a sense of urgency that coursed through the
regime’s veins, affecting policy in a wide variety of domains. In Berlin,
one sign were renewed inter-departmental discussions over the future of
American-owned companies in Germany and occupied Europe. As the
prospects of victory receded, those voices calling for radical measures
(i.e., outright confiscation) grew louder and more insistent, a situation
that did not escape the attention of various actors in France and that
provided an important backdrop to Ford SAF’s calculations. More gen-
erally, this urgency manifested itself in a strengthened determination to
mobilize all the resources at Germany’s disposal for the war effort. If the
Germans were to have any chance of avoiding defeat, the economic and
especially industrial exploitation of the occupied territories would have to
be intensified. Time, moreover, was of the essence: the Germans needed
war matériel as quickly as possible. One result was the decision at the end
of 1942 to embark on a European-wide truck production programme.
Directed by Ford-Werke, this programme would have important impli-
cations for Ford SAF. Meanwhile, the growing sense of urgency led to a
further reorganization of the German economic administration within
France. If one goal was to widen the authority of Speer’s ministry, another
one was to provide some measure of oversight over the activities of French
companies. This latter goal, however, proved to be elusive, leaving the
Germans dependent on companies such as Ford SAF to work whole-
heartedly for them.
The first half of 1943 also proved decisive for the French. Several
factors – the mounting pressure to conscript labour for Germany, the
deepening economic crisis caused by general penury and the decreasing
likelihood of a German victory – compelled French officials and industri-
alists to consider to what extent they would cooperate with the occupiers.
While Jean Bichelonne, minister for industrial production since

149
150 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

November 1942, ultimately answered this question by recommitting

himself to the project of industrial collaboration, the MPI could not
simply impose this decision on industry leaders and company directors.
In the case of the automobile industry, the success of collaboration – and
of the truck programme in particular – would depend greatly on the
cooperation of the COA and Ford SAF. Contrary to Bichelonne, how-
ever, Lehideux would continue to set clear limits to industrial collabora-
tion, working with his German counterparts only insofar as it was
necessary to protect the French automobile industry and its member
companies.
If anything, the opening months of 1943 were even more decisive for
Ford SAF than they were for the Germans and French. At the beginning
of the year, the company found itself once again threatened by Ford-
Werke which, with the apparent backing of the occupation authorities,
sought to use the European-wide truck programme as a lever to take
control of Ford SAF. Thanks to the determined support of Lehideux
and the COA, Dollfus managed to preserve Ford SAF’s independence.
The price of this achievement, however, was a renewed commitment to
industrial collaboration: Ford SAF pledged itself to cooperate fully with
Ford-Werke in the truck programme, while Lehideux promised the
German authorities that this programme would become the priority for
the French automobile industry as a whole. Yet this renewed commitment
came at a time when the perceived interests of Ford SAF and of Lehideux
pointed in another direction – towards reduced cooperation with the
Germans. Accordingly, Ford SAF’s participation in Ford-Werke’s truck
programme provides an interesting vantage point from which to assess the
nature of Franco-German industrial collaboration during the later phase
of the Occupation.

German policy: the fate of American companies

in occupied Europe
During the opening months of 1942, as previously recounted, various
governmental departments in Berlin debated the question of whether to
extend the 1940 decree on the treatment of enemy assets to the United
States. The Foreign Ministry initially sought to prevent the decree’s
extension, maintaining that Germany should not take the initiative but
act only in retaliation against American measures to confiscate German
assets. This argument met with fierce opposition from the Economics
Ministry among others, which insisted that the decree be applied to
American assets now that the United States was at war with Germany.
Behind this seemingly commonsensical position, however, lurked a larger
 The fate of American companies in occupied Europe 151

political-economic aim: to seize the opportunity created by war and

occupation to eliminate the American presence in the European econ-
omy. In one way or another, American companies in Germany and
occupied Europe would be confiscated.
Under growing pressure, the Foreign Ministry withdrew its opposition
and in April 1942 the enemy assets decree was extended to the United
States. Predictably, however, the Economics Ministry remained dissat-
isfied with this decision. The original decree embodied a minimalist
approach in which enemy (American) companies would be allowed to
operate largely undisturbed under watch of a benign administrator. The
Economics Ministry thus wasted no time in lobbying for stricter meas-
ures. In the summer of 1942, it complained that the RkBfV, the agency
responsible for applying the decree, was appointing administrators who
were too closely connected to the companies involved to promote
‘German national economic interests’.1 Soon afterwards, ministry offi-
cials demanded the legal power to liquidate American-owned firms,
maintaining that the Americans were confiscating German assets, partic-
ularly patents. In its campaign, the Economics Ministry received strong
backing from Göring’s Four Year Plan organization.2
Feeling compelled to respond, the Justice Ministry convened an inter-
ministerial meeting for the end of November 1942 to consider the issue.
Opening the discussion, the representative of the Four Year Plan empha-
sized the importance of excluding foreign influence from the European
economy: ‘The time has come to advance one step further the exclusion of
alien and enemy countries (raumfremden Mächte) in the economic realm
for Europe as a whole. It is necessary to create established facts during the
war which will remain unshaken during peace negotiations [after the
war].’ Economics Ministry officials also pointed to the dangers of a
post-war American presence. The war, as one of them explained, fostered
the ‘rationalization’ of industry as production became concentrated in
fewer and fewer companies. While unavoidable to boost output, this
process could create problems after the war due to the prominence of
American companies in several industries, chief among them the auto-
mobile industry. ‘It would be unacceptable if the growth of production on
the German side caused by the needs of the war led to a monopolistic-type

1
BAL R 3101/33172, RWM, ‘Vermerk’, no. 27840/42, June 1942; also see RWM,
‘Niederschrift über eine Besprechung vom 18. Juli 1942 bei Hernn Staatssekretär Dr.
Krohn. . .Grundsätze der Verwalterbestellung für amerikanisches Vermögen’, 24 June
1942.
2
BAL R 2/30075, RJM to RFM, 10 September 1942, which contains: ‘Niederschrift über
die Besprechung am 18. August 1942’, undated; and R 87/79, RWM circular, no. 34162/
42, 2 September 1942.
152 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

expansion of enemy influence in Germany and Europe.’ The danger was

that American-owned companies might end up dominating entire
industries. As we shall see, moreover, at the beginning of 1943 this
danger was not simply hypothetical. The decision to concentrate truck
production with Ford-Werke potentially provided the latter with a priv-
ileged position within the German and European automobile industries.
In order to protect ‘German interests’, the Economics Ministry thus
proposed that enemy assets administrators be appointed not from the
American-owned company but from rival companies which presumably
had an interest in eliminating foreign influence from within their
industry.3
Foreign Ministry officials predictably opposed any action against
American-owned companies in Germany or occupied Europe. In addi-
tion to challenging the claim that German property in the United States
was under systematic attack, the Foreign Ministry continued to argue that
Germany had more to lose from confiscatory measures because the overall
value of German assets in North and South America outweighed the value
of American assets in Germany and occupied Europe. For this reason, the
Foreign Ministry opposed confiscating the property of American (and
other enemy) Jews, though not their deportation to death camps in the
East.4 Interestingly, the RkBfV also rejected the proposal to appoint
administrators from rival companies, insisting that it was unacceptable
that ‘individual private interests’ might gain an advantage while Germany
was left to bear the burden of American retaliation. The meeting ended
inconclusively. While everyone agreed that the continued presence,
let alone expansion, of American companies in Europe after the war was
undesirable, there was no agreement on what should be done to prevent
this from happening.
Unhappy with this stalemate, the Economics Ministry asked for and
received the support of Martin Bormann, head of the Nazi party chancel-
lery.5 Moving quickly, the ministry in early 1943 launched a full-out
campaign for a decree empowering German authorities to proceed with
the ‘liquidation of the property of U.S. citizens’. In its campaign, the
ministry focused on the post-war situation, emphasizing in particular the

3
For accounts of the meeting, see BAL R 2/30030, RJM circular, no. 6139/42, 23
December 1942, which contains untitled memoranda, no. 5985/42; and R 87/208,
RkBfV, ‘Vermerk’, no. 1807/42, 2 December 1942.
4
Lindner underscores this paradox. See his Das Reichskommissariat, 135–53.
5
BFRC, Ford-Werke, BAL 5755, Nazi party Partei-Kanzlei (Bormann) to RJM,
31 October 1942; and BAL R 87/79, RWM to Leiter der Parteikanzlei, 14 January
1943.
 The fate of American companies in occupied Europe 153

large profits that American companies were making and which could be
invested in German companies, leading to the growth of the American
presence in Germany’s economy. At an inter-ministerial meeting in April,
the ministry’s representative warned that several American-owned com-
panies had enjoyed significant increases in ‘liquid capital’ which they
would use after the war to expand market share and even to eliminate all
competition. Once again, automobile companies figured prominently
among the examples cited, including Opel (GM) and Ford-Werke.6
Two months later, an Economics Ministry circular asserted that large
profits for American companies ‘is dangerous for political-economic rea-
sons and contains the possibility of an expansion of enemy assets’. The
circular demanded that the administrators of American-owned compa-
nies be given the authority ‘to prevent any increase in the company itself or
its assets’.7
Finding itself once again on the defensive, the Foreign Ministry sought
to reframe the debate on the post-war stakes of wartime measures. For the
Economics Ministry, wartime faits accomplis were necessary since after-
wards it would be too late. In response, the Foreign Ministry insisted that
the outcome of the war alone would determine the nature of the European
economy. As it explained in connection with wartime profits:
Any fait accompli can be undone, and the only thing that will be decisive here is
victory. If the war is won then it becomes easy to ensure that the companies with
enemy participation do not keep their wartime excess profits. If for theoretical
reasons one assumes the war is lost, [then] fait accomplis have absolutely no use.8
Underpinning these two positions was a more basic difference. The
Economics Ministry and its allies conceived of the war as a ‘total’ one.
Outright victory, which they insisted was the only acceptable outcome,
demanded a more radical (or more total) effort. The hedging of bets,
uncertainty about the future, doubts and hesitations – all of these had no
place in this conception. In truth, the argument did not depend on the
possibility of victory, since the same mantra would continue to be
repeated long after any realistic hope of winning the war had disappeared.

6
BAL R 3001/2817, ‘Niederschrift über die Sitzung des interministeriellen Ausschusses
vom 8. April 1943’. For examples of companies, see R 87/67, list attached to ‘Kurzer
Aktenvermerk über die Besprechung vom 22.6.1943 betr.: Vermögenszuwachs der
Feindbetriebe’, 23 June 1943.
7
BAL R 87/67, RWM circular, no. 6874/43, 15 June 1943.
8
BAL R 2/30038, AA circular, no. R 20001, 23 August 1943, which contains:
‘Unternehmen, die unter maβgebenden feindlichen Einfluβ stehen’, Heinrich Richter,
26 June 1943. For the continued belief in the possibility of a negotiated peace, see PAAA
R 40545, RJM (Thierack) circular to Herrn Reichsminister und Chef der Reichskanzlei,
no. 4418/43, 3 November 1943.
154 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

But during 1943, the more pertinent point is that the Economics Ministry
strove to engulf American-owned companies in its vision of war. For the
Foreign Ministry, the Economics Ministry’s ambition to seize control of
American-owned companies was doubly nonsensical. Any concrete
measures not only risked being disruptive at a moment when Germany
needed all the war matériel it could get, but would also needlessly antag-
onize the Americans, whose support could be essential in any future
negotiations, while depriving German negotiators of potential bargaining
chips. Germany, one memorandum curtly declared, had ‘nothing to gain
in foreign policy terms’ from seizing American-owned companies.9 At a
deeper level, on this issue at least the Foreign Ministry resisted the total
war logic that sought to radicalize the war effort – and this regardless of
Germany’s prospects of victory.
In the ideologically heated climate of 1943, however, the Foreign
Ministry found itself increasingly isolated within the Nazi regime. The
immediate result was that the political momentum behind a decree to
liquidate American-owned companies mounted. In a stalling tactic, the
Foreign Ministry proposed to prepare a decree regarding the possible
confiscation of American-owned companies but argued against its appli-
cation or even its publication. Rejecting what it termed a ‘drawer decree’,
the Economics Ministry insisted that the decree be published, no doubt in
the hope of provoking American retaliation which would then justify more
radical German measures.10 In light of the Economics Ministry’s insist-
ence and with no consensus in sight, the Justice Ministry reluctantly
concluded that a ‘Führer decision’ was necessary. Although the Foreign
Ministry resisted this option, presumably out of fear that Hitler would
decide for publication, it could not prevent the transfer of the dossier to
Hitler’s chancellery.11
And there, matters would stand as Hitler appears to have refused to
make a clear-cut decision. Inter-ministerial discussions, as a result,
would drag on into 1944 but no concrete action would be taken.
American-owned companies in Germany and in occupied Europe
would not be ‘Germanized’, as the Economics Ministry wanted, nor
would their activities (aside from profits) be subject to particular

9
BAL R 2/30038, ‘Unternehmen, die unter maβgebenden feindlichen Einfluβ stehen’.
10
BAL R 3101/33292, ‘Vermerk für Herrn Präsident Kehrl’, 20 March 1943.
11
See BAL R 87/79, ‘Vermerk’, no. 4419/43, which contains an account of a 15 October
1943 inter-ministerial meeting; and R 87/67, Partei-Kanzlei (Bormann) to RJM, no.
2620/43, 3 September 1943. For the transfer of the dossier, see PAAA R 40545,
Reichsminister und Chef der Reichskanzlei (Lammers) to RJM, no. 12094, 11
November 1943.
 The fate of American companies in occupied Europe 155

restrictions. The reasons for Hitler’s apparent restraint are unknown,

though it is clear that confiscatory measures would have been disruptive
at a time when most of the larger American-owned companies were
working for the Germans. This was certainly the case with Ford-
Werke, which, as we shall see, had been charged with organizing a
truck production programme involving the various Ford companies in
continental Europe, including Ford SAF. If this programme would
potentially reinforce Ford-Werke’s position in the German and
European automobile industries after the war, it was a risk worth run-
ning given the Wehrmacht’s desperate need for trucks. In the industrial
realm, at least, short-term practical considerations could trump what
Stephen Lindner, the RkBfV’s historian, has called the ‘all-powerful
ideological viewpoints’ always present in the Nazi regime.12
But if the proposed decree on the confiscation of American-owned
companies remained in suspense, the extensive discussions in Berlin on
the subject nevertheless had an impact. Throughout 1943, American-
owned companies continued to operate in a climate of constant uncertainty
and even menace regarding their immediate future. Writing to the RkBfV in
1943, the enemy assets administrator for Opel (GM) warned of the
‘depressing influence’ exerted by the proposed measures against
American-owned companies.13 Such a climate could not but affect the
calculations of the latter. This was the case not only in Germany but also
in occupied France. The bureaucratic battle in Berlin regarding the fate of
American companies was no secret to the German occupation authorities.
During 1942, as we saw in the previous chapter, the MbF had lobbied for
the extension of the 1940 decree to the United States. Although the MbF
generally respected the limited application of the decree, by 1943 several
signs indicated that the German authorities were preparing for the possibil-
ity of more active measures. In addition to drawing up an accurate statistical
portrait of enemy-owned assets in France, they began to subject the admin-
istrators of companies to a ‘rigorous scrutiny’.14 But this was not all. Rather
than simply waiting for a decision from Berlin, the German authorities once
again sought to influence the outcome of inter-ministerial discussions. On
several occasions, for example, they not only expressed their concern to the
RkBfV that American-owned companies were making hefty profits, but they
also pressed the agency to adopt counter-measures. At the same time,
the MbF forwarded to Berlin reports that the Americans were

12
Lindner, Das Reichskommissariat, 110–11, 124.
13
BFRC, Ford-Werke, BAL 3160, Opel (Verwalter) to RkBfV, undated but 1943.
14
For example, see AN AJ 40/591, untitled note, MbF, Gruppe Wi.I/2, 12 June 1943.
156 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

actively liquidating German-owned companies in the United States –

reports that the Finance Ministry judged to be misinformed.15
For much of 1943, then, the future of American-owned companies in
France was clouded in uncertainty. If in principle all American-owned
companies were concerned, Ford SAF was arguably more affected than
others. From the latter’s perspective, the reigning uncertainty provided a
worrisome background to the dramatic developments during the opening
months of the year, when Ford-Werke sought to capitalize on its
European-wide truck production programme to take it over. In fashioning
a response, Ford SAF could not ignore the fact that the German author-
ities in Berlin and Paris viewed the continued existence of American-
owned companies as problematic. Just as pertinently, Ford SAF knew
that its continued independence partly depended on its contribution to
the truck programme. Back in Berlin, one prominent argument against
confiscating American-owned companies was that such a measure would
likely disrupt current production. If Ford SAF’s contribution should
prove disappointing, Ford-Werke and the German occupation authorities
would have a stronger case for moving against the company.

German policy: the triumph of Speer?

While various departments in Berlin debated the fate of American-owned
companies, important developments occurred in France during 1943 that
would directly affect Ford SAF. Underpinning these developments was
the conviction that greater production of war matériel needed to be
squeezed out of French factories. Indeed, as the course of the war took a
sharp turn against Germany, the need to exploit French industrial
capacity became more urgent than ever. In December 1942, even before
the enormity of the Stalingrad disaster was apparent, a consensus existed
in Berlin that ‘the productive capacity of France will have to be exploited
to the greatest possible extent in the general interests of the defence and
reconstruction of Europe’. The following month, Hitler himself declared
that ‘[w]e must call on France to make a far greater economic effort than
before’.16 That Hitler remained unwilling to offer Vichy any political
concessions in return meant that economic and industrial collaboration
would become more one-sided – more exploitative. For someone like

15
For excess profits, see PAAA R 40543, MbF to AA, 4 March 1943; and BA-MA RW 35/
295, ‘Lagebericht über Verwaltung und Wirtschaft Oktober/Dezember 1943 mit Beitrag
des Wirtschaftsstabes West’, undated. For reports to Berlin, see the file in AN AJ 40/604.
16
PAAA R 29598, untitled memorandum, Ribbentrop, 8 January 1943; and Boelcke, ed.,
Deutschlands Rüstung im Zweiten Weltkrieg, 3–5 January 1943, 217.
 German policy: the triumph of Speer? 157

Göring, this posed no problem. Speaking to representatives of the occu-

pation authorities in various countries, Göring in April 1943 explained
that it ‘[i]s a fundamental error to believe that we prefer to win over the
people of the occupied territories through mild treatment. When it comes
to the goal of a new European order these people can [begin to] be won
over after the war.’ For now, strong measures rather than kid gloves were
needed. Referring to France in particular, he recommended a consider-
able ‘extension’ of the occupation authorities’ ‘powers’ as the most effec-
tive and immediate way to boost industrial production.17
The sense of urgency among the Germans was reinforced by the dis-
appointing production figures in France. In its closing report for the year
1942, armaments officials predicted a ‘notable reversal’ in output for the
near future. Three months later they spoke of a 25 per cent fall in overall
production during December 1942 – January 1943. Although the results
were mostly attributed to temporary problems, notably acute shortages of
energy, reports from various regional armaments teams over the next
several months indicated continued drops in output, which in some
cases easily exceeded 25 per cent.18 A lengthy retrospective report pre-
pared in the spring of 1943 by the head of MbF’s armaments staff
amounted to an extended justification for unsatisfactory deliveries of
war matériel. But self-justification aside, the underlying message was
that France’s industrial potential was not being sufficiently exploited.
The ‘pressing task’ of German armaments officials, it concluded, was to
‘employ and to exhaust French economic resources to the greatest extent
possible for the German war potential’.19
For armaments officials in Paris and Berlin, the question was how best
to explain disappointing production results. Predictably perhaps, the
answers depended a good deal on what one believed could and should
be done. This was evident in the case of shortages. All German observers
agreed that the French economy suffered from increasing penury.
Manpower shortages attracted considerable attention, partly because

17
‘Aus dem Protokoll einer Besprechung von Hermann Göring mit Vertretern dr
Okkupationsbehörden am 28. April 1943 über die Einbeziehung der besetzten Gebiete
in die “totale Kriegführung”’, extracts reproduced in Ludwig Nestler, Die faschistische
Okkupationspolitik in Frankreich (1940–1944) (Berlin, 1990), 266–7.
18
BA-MA RW 24/29, ‘Kriegstagbuch des Rüstungsstabes Frankreich des Reichministers
für Bewaffnung und Munition vom 1. Oktober 1942 bis 31. Dezember 1942’, 31
December 1942; NARA T 77/1256, Rüstungsinspektion Frankreich, ‘Kurzbericht zum
22.3.1943’, no. 210/43g, 22 March 1943; and T 77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris West to Rü- und
Be Fr, 8 May 1943, with accompanying chart of production from December 1942 to June
1943.
19
NARA T 77/1221, ‘Die deutsche Wehr- und Rüstungswirtschaft in Frankreich vom
3.7.1940 bis 31.3.1943’, Barckhausen.
158 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

Sauckel’s ongoing efforts to conscript workers provoked the ire of both

German and French officials. But labour was only one scarce element
among many. During 1942, the MbF had kept a close watch on the gap
between requirements and supplies of numerous matériels; in the case of
oil products, for example, available supplies rarely met 50 per cent of
needs. During 1943, a slew of reports from local armaments teams testi-
fied to the deteriorating supply situation across the country. The growing
scarcity of coal and electricity proved particularly troubling, as both were
vitally necessary to keep factories running. On this subject, the armaments
inspection office in France tersely remarked in March 1943 that the ‘long-
feared supply catastrophe had arrived’.20 If this report was exceptionally
alarmist, German officials recognized that shortages of all kinds under-
mined their efforts to exploit France’s industrial resources.
Occasionally, the awareness of the deteriorating supply situation
resulted in calls for more sober assessments of France’s productive poten-
tial. In early 1943, the Beschaffungsamt complained that Germans too
often ‘over-estimated its [French industry] capacity and under-estimated
the difficulties from which it suffered’. Similarly, in response to criticism
from the German automobile industry that French companies were unco-
operative, the Beschaffungsamt lamented the widespread ignorance of
conditions in France, pointing in particular to the ‘catastrophic drop’ in
coal and electricity supplies as well as to Sauckel’s labour drafts.21 Several
German observers, moreover, recognized that the relative lack of vertical
integration in many French industries exacerbated the problems created
by shortages. Most of the major companies relied on networks of suppliers
and sub-suppliers, all of whose members required a steady provision of
various factors of production in order to meet the delivery schedules. In an
economy of growing scarcity, this horizontal production model translated
into frequent and multiple delays across the production chain.22 That this
problem handicapped the French automobile industry in particular was
recognized by the German automobile industry.23
Generally speaking, however, the German authorities shied away from
accepting the full implications of the deepening supply crisis afflicting

20
BA-MA RW 24/49, Rü In A (Paris und NW Fr), untitled situation report, 1 March 1942;
and NARA T 77/1256, Rü In Fr, ‘Übersicht 1.1–31.3.1943’.
21
BA-MA RW 24/41, ‘Überblick des Amtschefs über in der Zeit vom 1.1.43 bis 30.4.43
beim Deutschen Beschaffungsamt in Frankreich aufgetretenen wesentlichen Probleme,
deren Entwicklung und Lösung’; and NARA T 77/1254, Deutsche Beschaffungsamt
Frankreich to Hauptauschuss Kraftfahrzeuge (Schaaf), 19 January 1943.
22
For this problem, see the comments in NARA T 77/1256, Rü In Fr, ‘Die Energielage und
die sich darauf ergebenden Folgerungen’, 30 September 1942.
23
See the report in SäSC, Auto Union 31050, 315, ‘Frankreich-Bericht der
Wirtschaftsgruppe Fahrzeugindustrie (Sept. 1941)’.
 German policy: the triumph of Speer? 159

France. Instead, they preferred to believe that the problem was manage-
able and that solutions could be found. On the issue of labour conscrip-
tion, General Barckhausen, the head of the MbF’s economic staff, insisted
in 1943 that a ‘clear synthesis’ could be found between the needs of
German and French industry for French workers that would satisfy
both. Just what this synthesis meant in practice he left unclear. As the
supply situation worsened, German reports endeavoured to sound an
upbeat note despite the often long list of shortages appended. A report
in early 1943 from the armaments team responsible for Paris-West (and
thus Ford SAF) announced that although coal supplies for factories
presented ‘constant difficulties’, it remained convinced that these
‘would nevertheless be overcome just in time’. Another report from the
same team several months later confidently predicted that current pro-
duction goals would be met despite the admitted ‘delays in the supplies of
[raw] matériels’.24
There are several possible explanations for this show of confidence.
One of them is that armaments officials in France were bending over
backwards to locate supplies for French companies – an effort that met
with some success. In prioritizing factories working for the Germans, the
armaments teams were able to keep many of them going, even if at
reduced rhythms of production. German officials could also take heart
in the fact that the supply situation was uneven, varying rapidly across
time and region. Thus, for the Seine-et-Oise department, which included
Poissy, companies with German contracts had adequate quantities of raw
matériels at the end of 1942, experienced notable shortages in February
1943, before matters improved once again in the spring.25 But the belief
that supply difficulties could be overcome also reflected the assumption
that this is what was happening in Germany. Well before the war, the
German economy had been characterized by scarcity. Yet despite mount-
ing shortages of raw matériels and manpower, officials told themselves,
German industry continued to pull off impressive feats of production.
And what appeared to be possible in Germany should also be possible in
France.
Lurking behind this thinking was a dynamic that privileged ideology
over political-economic facts. In his influential study of the Nazi econ-
omy, Adam Tooze stressed the refusal of Speer to accept the reality of

24
NARA T 77/1221, ‘Die deutsche Wehr- und Rüstungswirtschaft in Frankreich vom
3.7.1940 bis 31.3.1943’, Barckhausen, undated, section 3, emphasis in original; and T
77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris-West, ‘Überblick über die Berichtszeit vom 1.1. – 31.3.43’; and
‘Uberblick über die Berichtszeit vom 1.7. – 30.9.40’, both undated.
25
ADY 1W 9, ‘Rapport mensuel (Période du 20 Novembre 1942 au 20 Décembre 1942)’,
undated; and ‘Rapport mensuel’, February 1943.
160 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

Germany’s economic limits. The result was a blind determination to keep

the war economy going, trumpeting small successes while ignoring the
increasing and crushing industrial superiority of the Allies.26 Among the
German officials in France, this blindness was apparent in the emphasis
placed on the decisive importance of will. As Barckhausen exclaimed in a
January 1943 speech to his staff:
We must possess an unobstructed vision, a clear understanding, a courageous
heart and a hardened and steeled will. Whoever with a living heart senses the
powerful pulse of the era, who is devoted to his people, will feel within his inner self
like never before that Germany’s fateful hour has struck and [will feel] with a
powerful and internal fire that all now depends on achieving a German victory in
the world; he must feel how the entire meaning and fulfilment of his life is
dedicated [to victory]; only then will he be internally strengthened and armed
against all the Powers which seek to break his resistance.27
It is possible that Barckhausen identified more closely with Nazi ideology
than other officials, though his claim that Germany was threatened with
‘extinction’ by the ‘Jewish-Marxist world revolution’ would likely not have
sounded strange to his military audience. But the more pertinent point is
that his insistence that reality could be bent according to needs was widely
shared. As we shall see in the case of Ford SAF, even someone as
practical-minded as Thoenissen could speak in terms of will.
For German officials, the biggest obstacle to a more thorough exploi-
tation of French industry appeared to come not from shortages but from
the French. The Germans were well aware that Vichy suffered from
declining political and moral legitimacy. In October 1943, a frustrated
Sauckel likened the regime to a ‘phantom’ and complained that ‘there is
no more French authority in this country’. While Sauckel was perhaps
overly dismissive, earlier, in July, German armament officials had
expressed doubts that the French government possessed sufficient
authority to fulfil its promise to collaborate.28 But the Germans were far
more worried about what they perceived as a growing unwillingness on the
part of French industrialists and workers to cooperate. The previous
chapter discussed the emerging gap in 1942 between German and
French interests: whereas the occupiers needed the help of the occupied

26
Tooze, The Wages of Destruction, 552–624.
27
BA-MA RW 24/6, Chef des Wirtschaftsstabes und Rüstungsstabes Frankreich, ‘Anspruche
des Chefs des Wi.Stabes und Rü.Stabes Frankreich, Generalleutnant Barckhausen, zum 10.
Jahrestag der Machtergreifung, am 30.1.43’, 28 January 1943. Emphasis in original.
28
AN AJ 40/846, ‘Vermerk über die Besprechung am 16. Okt. 1943 mit dem
Arbeitseinsatzstableitern unter Anwesenheit. . .Saukel’, undated; and BAL R 3/1821,
Chef des Rüstung- und Beschaffungsstabes Frankreich to MbF (Michel), no. 971/43,
30 July 1943.
 German policy: the triumph of Speer? 161

to exploit France’s industrial potential, the latter had begun to question

whether cooperation lay in their short- and long-term interests. During
1943, as Germany’s overall military situation visibly worsened, the
Germans came to conceive of this gap as a chasm. Statements concerning
the ‘passive resistance’ of the French and their decreasing ‘willingness to
perform’ became a regular feature of reports.29 In a lengthy report in early
1943, Barckhausen directly linked disappointing production results to the
hostility of the French:
[I]n France we [German armaments officials] are in an enemy country in which
every day difficulties of a personal and matériel nature have to be overcome and in
which the vast majority of the population confronts German measures with more
or less veiled and open resistance, with the result that increasing delays [in
production] must inevitably be accepted.30
The general impression, indeed, was that French companies were delib-
erately limiting their contribution to Germany’s war effort. According to
armaments teams, who regularly interacted with companies, many factory
directors now manifested a ‘notably reserved attitude’ towards German
contracts – an attitude that expressed itself in excuses and delays.31
Admittedly, the problem was not unique to France. Across occupied
Europe, the Germans detected a growing reticence on the part of local
companies and workers to collaborate. As Speer’s ministry admitted, in
the occupied territories the willingness ‘to offer support in the form of
armaments production to Germany in its struggle for European free-
dom. . .exists only in extremely limited measure’.32 Nevertheless, the sit-
uation in France stirred particular concern because of the importance of
its armaments and armaments-related industries, which easily surpassed
those of other occupied territories with the partial exception of Bohemia
and Moravia (the Protectorate). By 1943, it had become imperative for the
Germans to mobilize France’s industrial potential to the maximum
amount possible.
The pressing challenge for the Germans, then, was to get the French to
do more. On the question of how to do so, the German historian Marcel
Boldorf argues that throughout the Occupation the German authorities

29
For example, see BA-MA RW 24/26, ‘Lagebericht des Rü Stabes Frankreich, der Rü In
Frankreich und des DBA in Frankreich für den Monat Januar 1943’, 26 February 1943.
30
NARA T 77/1221, ‘Die deutsche Wehr- und Rüstungswirtschaft in Frankreich vom
3.7.1940 bis 31.3.1943’, section B2, 30; section 3.
31
BA-MA RW 24/93, Rü Kdo Paris Ost, ‘Kriegstagebuch für die Zeit vom 1.7. –
30.9.1943’, 30 September 1943; and RW 24/102, Rü Kdo Paris-West, ‘Lagebericht’,
18 October 1943.
32
BAL R 3/1941, ‘Denkschrift betreffend Europäische Wirtschafts-Planung’, 13 September
1943.
162 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

relied on the profit motive to stimulate the efforts of companies.33 There is

much to be said for this argument. With their massive purchasing power
provided by heavy occupation costs and a distorted exchange rate, the
Germans could and did entice companies with the promise of high profits.
The latter, as we saw, certainly explains Ford SAF’s enthusiasm to work
for the Germans during 1940–1. The problem for the Germans, however,
was that the profit motive’s effectiveness decreased over time. During
1940–1 and even into 1942, the Germans had been fairly confident that
French and German interests converged when it came to industrial col-
laboration. Yet by 1943, growing doubts about a German victory together
with mounting hardships called into question this convergence.
Confronted with what they viewed as a wall of reticence and even hostility,
German officials realized that an incentive structure centred chiefly on
profits was insufficient to motivate French companies. Something more
was needed.
The belief that something more was needed provides the backdrop to the
decision in 1943 to reorganize once again the German economic admin-
istration in France. Given Speer’s vaulting ambitions, this second reorgan-
ization predictably involved an effort to centralize authority under his
ministry. In early January 1943, Speer succeeded in convincing Göring
to issue a decree transferring full power to him for the ‘exploitation of the
armaments capacity of the occupied territories’. Several days earlier, Hitler
had endorsed Speer’s proposal to give him exclusive control of all arma-
ments production in France.34 Armed with this authority, in the spring
of 1943 Speer proceeded to unite the various armaments and economic
staffs in France, which included Thoenissen’s Beschaffungsamt, into a
single entity, the Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstab Frankreich (Rü Stabes
Frankreich), headed by General Stud and placed directly under the
Armaments Ministry’s control. Responsible for overseeing all aspects of
the German war economy in France, the Rü Stabes Frankreich set out to
eliminate what remained of the MbF’s influence in the economic-industrial
realm. Chairing his first meeting in June, Stud made it clear that it was Rü
Stabes Frankreich’s task – and its alone – to increase French industrial

33
Marcel Boldorf, ‘Neue Wege zur Erforschung der Wirtschaftsgeschichte Europas unter
nationalsozialistischer Hegemonie’ in Christoph Buchheim and Marcel Boldorf, eds.,
Europäische Volkswirtschaften unter deutscher Hegemonie, 1938–1945 (Munich, 2012),
16–21.
34
Boelcke, ed., Deutschlands Rüstung im Zweiten Weltkrieg, 3–5 January 1943, 217; and
Dietrich Eichholtz, Geschichte der deutschen Kriegswirtschaft 1939–1945, 3 vols. (Berlin,
1969–96), II, 137.
 German policy: the triumph of Speer? 163

production.35 Although the MbF complained to Berlin, the economics

minister informed the military authorities that Speer’s goal of creating a
‘clear central organization’ enjoyed his full support.36
Notwithstanding the MbF’s official protests, German officials in
France generally welcomed the centralization of authority under Speer
in the hope that it would solve several persistent problems. One problem
was the urgent need to rationalize and concentrate French production in
order to ensure the most efficient use of resources. Clear priorities had to
be established and respected in the placing of contracts; matériels had to
be directed to where they were most needed; and factories of secondary
importance had to be closed.37 Although the occupation authorities had
been struggling to do this for some time, the uncoordinated and compet-
ing activities of different German agencies greatly hampered their efforts.
A single and united armaments organization with exclusive power would
presumably limit what Barckhausen called the ‘spreading paper war’
between the Germans that risked ‘overshadowing’ their shared interest
in mobilizing French industry.38 Equally important, a centralized organ-
ization would not only help to fill the vacuum created by Vichy’s vanishing
authority, but would also counter the continued attempts by the French to
exploit differences between various occupation authorities – a practice
that German officials found particularly frustrating. ‘The first duty of
Germans in France’, Stud intoned, ‘is to speak with a determinedly united
voice in order to avoid. . .providing the French with the opportunity to
play German agencies against one another.’39
Whatever its potential benefits, the further centralization of authority
over French war production in Speer’s ministry proved to be of limited
practical consequence. One reason is that it remained incomplete. Speer’s
staff, for example, never succeeded in coordinating the placing of con-
tracts with French companies: German procurement agencies and com-
panies would continue to engage in what one official described as a ‘wild

35
BA-MA RW 24/30, ‘Kriegstagebuch des Rü Stabes Frankreich für die Zeit vom 1.5. bis
30.6.43’, and ‘Niederschrift der 1. Sitzung der Rüstungs- und Beschaffungskommission
Frankreich am 17.6.1943’, 19 June 1943.
36
BA-MA RW 24/31, Funk to MbF, 17 July 1943.
37
Regarding the closing of factories, a post-Liberation French assessment noted that only
27 companies (out of 625) belonging to the COA and employing some 90 workers (out of
15,000) had been closed by the end of 1942. See AN 19830589/17, ‘Note sur les
fermertures d’entreprises’, undated but October 1944.
38
NARA T 77/1221, ‘Die deutsche Wehr- und Rüstungswirtschaft in Frankreich vom
3.7.1940 bis 31.3.1943’.
39
BA-MA RW 24/32, Rü Stabes Fr, ‘Protokoll über die Sitzung mit den
Rüstungskommandeuren und Aussenstellenleitern, an 18.15 Uhr auch mit den
Länderbeaufträgten, am 1. November 1943’, Paris, 9 November 1943.
164 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

chase’.40 But Speer’s staff had no more success in establishing their

authority over the French. As always, the occupation authorities lacked
the manpower and expertise to keep a close eye on French industries and
companies. Hitherto, the Germans had been content to administer by
proxy: they issued general directives that the French then applied, subject
to German oversight. In the industrial realm, this practice accorded an
important role to the representatives of French industry, prominent
among them (as we have seen) Lehideux and the COA. In 1943, Elmar
Michel, the head of the MbF’s economic section, publicly lauded admin-
istration by proxy, claiming that it allowed the Germans to exploit the
French economy with maximum effectiveness and efficiency.41 But by
then, Michel’s claim was little more than a propaganda exercise. Given the
growing reticence of the French towards industrial collaboration, admin-
istration by proxy was clearly inadequate.
Speer’s Armaments Ministry, accordingly, coupled centralization with
another and arguably more significant scheme: the integration of French
industries and companies into the existing economic and industrial struc-
ture in Germany. The underlying aim was not so much to impose a
German model on the French as it was to provide the occupation author-
ities with what they had always lacked: a measure of direct oversight over
French production. This would be achieved by extending the authority of
German industry organizations (the rings and committees that directed
particular industries and sub-industries) into occupied France. At the
industry level, individual German rings and committees would appoint
a representative (Länder-Beauftragte or LB) who, working with Speer’s
officials, would organize, coordinate and rationalize production between
various French companies. At the same time, individual French compa-
nies would be associated with a German company belonging to the
relevant industrial ring or committee. The German company would
have the status either of a ‘sponsoring company’ (Patenfirma), which
oversaw a single French company, or of a ‘leadership’ company
(Leitenfirma), which was responsible for several French companies in the
same industry.42

40
BAL R 3101/31166, RBM, ‘Sitzung der Ausschüsse und Ringe von 5. Juni 1943.
Neuregulung in Frankreich’, 10 June 1943. Ignoring Speer’s recent reorganization, in
the spring of 1943 Daimler-Benz established a bureau in Paris to deal directly with French
companies. See the file in MBA, Zentralbüro Paris.
41
AN 3W/221, Michel, ‘L’économie dirigée en France’, translated article in the Berliner
Börsen Zeitung, 10 April 1943. Also see de Rochebrune and Hazera, Les patrons sous
l’Occupation, I, 147–9.
42
See NARA T 77/1254, RBM, untitled note, 1 February 1943, which contains ‘Entwurf
der Geschäftsordnung für die Arbeitsausschüsse und Arbeitsringe des Deutschen
Beschaffungsamtes in Frankreich’, undated; and BAL R 3101/32261, ‘Erlass über die
 German policy: the triumph of Speer? 165

The task of Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen, Speer told his staff, was to act
as a ‘supervisor’ to French companies, ensuring that ‘German interests
were represented’.43 An optimistic scenario envisaged German compa-
nies helping to invigorate French companies (and industries) by introduc-
ing what one official termed ‘German experience and German principles’.
In a memorandum in June 1943, Speer called for the ‘complete and
planned utilization of France’s war capacity’, emphasizing in particular
the role that ‘German practical experience’ imparted by ‘competent per-
sonalities’ could play in improving the performance of French compa-
nies.44 But lurking nearby was a more pessimistic shadow. Desperately
short of war matériel, the Germans needed immediate results from
French industry yet at the same time feared that they could not rely on
the latter’s goodwill. French companies with German contracts would
have to be closely monitored to ensure that they made a maximum effort.
For this reason, Speer’s officials insisted that the representatives of
Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen with French companies must possess not
only a ‘well-grounded factual knowledge’ of the relevant industry but also
‘strong leadership qualities, initiative and agility’. Only men with such a
profile would have the combined expertise and authority to push French
companies to do everything they could to operate in the ‘most rational way
possible, with the least expenditure of raw matériels and workers and with
a better use of [their] capacity’.45
The ambition to oversee French companies is critical to understanding
the results of Speer’s reorganization of the German economic adminis-
tration. The latter has been seen as an attempt to impose greater ‘central
control’ over French production.46 But while true, this argument over-
looks the ironic effect of Speer’s reorganization, which was to decentralize
responsibility further. In according a leading role to German industrial
committees and rings in French production, Speer extended the principle
of industry self-responsibility to France. In practice, this meant devolving
authority away from Speer’s staff and towards both German and French

Einbeziehung der Betriebe im Bereich des Militärbefehlshabers Frankreich in die Arbeit

der Ausschüse und Ringe’, 1 June 1943. Also see Milward, The New Order and the French
Economy, 140–6.
43
BA-MA RW 24/30, Rü Stabs Frankreich, ‘Aktenvermerk über die Besprechungen mit
Reichsminister Speer am 8.5.1943’, Paris, 12 May 1943.
44
For the official, see BAL R 3101/31166, RBM, ‘Sitzung der Ausschüsse und Ringe von 5.
Juni 1943. Neuregulung in Frankreich’, 10 June 1943; for the memorandum, see BA-MA
RW 35/721, RBM, ‘Einschaltung der Ausschüsse und Ringe bei der
rüstungswirtschaftlichen Nutzbarmachung Frankreichs’, no. 460/43, Speer, 1 June 1943.
45
BAL R 3101/31166, RBM, ‘Sitzung der Ausschüsse und Ringe von 5. Juni 1943; and
NARA T 77/1254, ‘Entwurf der Geschäftsordnung für die Arbeitsausschüsse und
Arbeitsringe des Deutschen Beschaffungsamtes in Frankreich’.
46
Radtke-Delacor, ‘Produire pour le Reich’, 109.
166 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

actors at the industry and above all company levels. The potential contra-
diction was apparent: Speer’s reorganization increased the influence of
precisely those French actors – industry leaders and company directors –
whose perceived reticence to collaborate wholeheartedly had helped to
prompt the reorganization in the first place.
The burden of dealing with this contradiction would fall chiefly on the
German Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen. Speer counted on them to oversee
the activities of French companies, with the result that considerable
numbers of Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen were appointed during the sec-
ond half of 1943. But these companies proved ill-suited to the task. One
problem was that Speer’s ministry placed notable limits on their authority.
Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen were told that they possessed no ‘power of
direction’ and that ‘full responsibility’ for the timely fulfilment of orders
remained with French company directors. Instead, their duties consisted
of cooperating with the latter, proffering advice and help when needed.47
The limited power of Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen is partly explained by
the strong French reaction: both the MPI and Lehideux’s COA protested
against the scheme, insisting that it undercut the independence of French
companies.48 But if Speer’s ministry chose not to ignore French protests,
it was chiefly because the existence of Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen did
nothing to free the Germans from their dependence on the French. Short
of running French companies themselves, which was simply not feasible,
armaments officials had no choice but to rely on French help in boosting
production. This reality became apparent during the opening months of
1943, even before Speer’s administrative reorganization. As we shall see,
during the negotiations in early 1943 over Ford SAF’s contribution to the
European truck programme, Speer’s staff was forced to make far-reaching
concessions to the COA and to Ford SAF in order to secure their coop-
eration – concessions that effectively stymied Ford-Werke’s ambitions to
control the latter’s operations.

French policy: Vichy and the MPI

German observers were correct in their judgement that the Vichy govern-
ment’s authority and relevance declined steeply during 1942–3.
Following the Allied invasion of North Africa in November 1942, which

47
BA-MA RW 35/787, untitled circular to the heads of the Hauptasschusses and
Hauptringe, undated but 1943. For the multiplication of Patenfirma and Leitenfirma,
see the lengthy list drawn up in BFRC, Ford-Werke, BAL 2495, Rüstungsobermann in
Frankreich, 9 December 1943, and accompaying document.
48
See the file in AN 19830589/6.
 French policy: Vichy and the MPI 167

triggered the German occupation of the southern zone, the regime

became a shadow of its former self. While Pétain became little more
than a figurehead, the government led by Laval suffered from growing
unpopularity and declining legitimacy. Meanwhile, reading the writing on
the wall, high-ranking officials such as Maurice Couve de Murville, direc-
tor of foreign exchange at the Finance Ministry, abandoned Vichy (and
France) altogether; or, like René Bousquet, the prefect of police, dis-
tanced themselves from their earlier enthusiasm for collaboration.49 For
Vichy in general, little remained of the early hopes for a Franco-German
partnership in the construction of a new post-war Europe. For those who
did not belong to the miniscule and marginal minority of ideologically
committed collaborators, two complementary goals predominated: to
mitigate the worse effects of the German occupation and to remake
one’s reputation. These two goals are significant in light of the post-
Liberation claim that Vichy acted as a shield, protecting the French people
from the worst. If scholars have convincingly demonstrated the specious-
ness of this claim, particularly for the 1940–2 period, the situation became
more complicated during 1943–4 in Vichy’s terminal phase. In the eco-
nomic realm at least, Vichy did begin to play this role – or, perhaps more
accurately, had this role thrust upon it by events. Somewhat paradoxi-
cally, the effort to prevent the worse prompted a renewed commitment on
Vichy’s part to industrial collaboration with the Germans. At the same
time, the regime’s declining authority meant that the responsibility for
collaboration would rest primarily with the industries and companies
directly involved.
No one was more aware of this paradox than Bichelonne, the minister of
industrial production throughout 1943 and into 1944. The previous
chapter argued that MPI officials remained interested in reorganizing
French industry but that during 1942 they came to conceive of this project
more in French than in Franco-German terms. During 1943, the idea of
capitalizing on the circumstances of occupation to reorganize French
industry all but disappeared as the priority for the MPI became to keep
as many workers and factories working in France as possible. Scholars
often portray Bichelonne as a self-conceived technocrat who was, in Julian
Jackson’s felicitous phrase, ‘politically autistic’, a self-conception which
he supposedly shared with Speer and which formed the basis for their
cooperation.50 But although he continued occasionally to speak in vague
terms of modernizing French industry, by 1943 politics trumped techno-
cratic ambitions for Bichelonne. Faced with Sauckel’s ongoing campaign

49 50
Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 226–30. Ibid., 228.
168 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

to conscript French labour and the threat that any unused productive
capacity would be transferred to the Reich, he concluded that the only way
to protect French workers and factories was to intensify industrial collab-
oration – to go as far as possible in making French industry a workhorse
for the German war effort.51
This logic would eventually lead to the well-known Speer–Bichelonne
agreements of September 1943. The next chapter will reconsider the
significance of these agreements, but for now it is worth noting that the
initiative came from the French side and from Bichelonne in particular.
Well aware of the mounting tensions between Sauckel and Speer,
Bichelonne sought to strengthen the latter by clearly indicating Vichy’s
willingness to collaborate. In January 1943, he thus asked Thoenissen for
help in directing German orders to factories that had been forced to shut
down for lack of work. At an inter-ministerial meeting three months later,
Bichelonne insisted that the rapid acceptance of any and all German
contracts was vitally necessary to protect French factories. Given the
urgency, he added the following month, neither questions of principle
nor procedure mattered.52 It is possible that Bichelonne’s campaign in the
opening months of 1943 influenced Speer’s thinking about how best to
exploit French industry, although it is difficult to say for certain. If nothing
else, it perhaps suggested to Speer that the French could be convinced
that it was in their interests to work wholeheartedly for the Germans.
Bichelonne did not confine his efforts to reinvigorate industrial collab-
oration to the Germans. For collaboration to work, French industrialists
would also have to be persuaded of its merits. Bichelonne accordingly
instructed the COs to make sure that their member companies under-
stood the stakes involved. ‘[T]he considerable work underway to allow the
French economy to adapt to present circumstances’, explained a circular
to the COs, ‘will not obtain the best results if the operating conditions and
the proposed aims do not receive a minimum of understanding from
those circles which are directly affected’. Going further, the circular
emphasized the need to combat individualist tendencies among company
directors which created ‘divisions’ damaging to the ‘general interest’.
The task of the COs was to inculcate in French companies a ‘sense of

51
AN AJ 72/1926, ‘Conférence de M. Bichelonne. . .prononcée devant les édiles de Paris et
de la Seine (5 Août 1943)’. Even the Gaullists would praise Bichelonne’s efforts to keep
French workers in France. See AN F1a/3769, CFLN, Commissariat à l’Intérieur, ‘Les
prélèvements de la main-d’oeuvre’, undated but early 1944.
52
NARA T 77/1254, ‘Aktenvermerk über den Besuch von General Bronchard am 9.1.1943
beim Deutsche Beschaffungsamt’, 11 January 1943; AN AJ 41/530, ‘Extrait du compte-
rendu du 3 avril 1943’, undated; and ibid., ‘Réunion du 4 mai 1943. 10 heures’, undated.
 French policy: the COA 169

responsibility’.53 Meanwhile, under the guise of promoting a corporatist-

type organization of professions, the MPI lobbied for a reinforcement of
the authority of COs. This was necessary, Bichelonne contended, to
ensure not only that everyone ‘is working for the country’ but also that
the COs did not simply serve the narrow interests of their member
companies. Similarly, Bichelonne’s close collaborator, René Norguet,
emphasized the ‘absolute need’ to organize companies into ententes
capable of defending the interests of an industry as a whole and of impos-
ing collective decisions on dissident members. For Norguet, the COs
would be the chief instrument of this policy.54 When it came to industrial
collaboration, the MPI expected the COs to take the lead, exhorting their
member companies to work for the Germans.

French policy: the COA

During 1943, the COA continued its practical cooperation with the
occupation authorities begun in 1940–1. In addition to working with
Speer’s staff in fixing production programmes, the COA acted as an
intermediary between French companies on the one hand and German
companies and procurement agencies on the other. A good deal of its
activity consisted of helping to place German contracts with French
companies. Growing shortages complicated negotiations, as French
companies increasingly made their acceptance conditional on supplies
of matériels. The tendency of the Germans to promise more than they
could (or did) deliver kept COA officials busy attempting to resolve
the resulting disputes concerning the partial or non-fulfilment of
contracts.55
The practical cooperation with the Germans aside, Lehideux in 1943
appeared to be increasingly preoccupied with the future. In the spring, he
created the Conseil de l’automobile, which gathered together the direc-
tors of the leading French automobile companies. Dollfus figured among
the select group, a testimony to Ford SAF’s stature within the industry.56
Laying out the Conseil’s agenda at its opening meeting in June, Lehideux
read from a familiar script, emphasizing the need to rationalize and

53
AN F 12/10146, ‘Note pour Monsieur Norguet’, G. Bourlet, 12 July 1943, with attached
MPI circular, 18 July 1943.
54
AN AJ 72/1926, ‘Extrait des conférences prononcées par M. Bichelonne. . .les 5 Août et 12
Octobre 1943’, 6–7; and F 12/10146, ‘Les ententes – rôle économique et social. Allocation
prononcée par M. Norguet le 22 Mai 1943 à une réunion du Centre des Jeunes Patrons’,
undated.
55
For examples, see the file in NARA T 73/2.
56
For the list of members, see AN 19830589/17, MPI, ‘Note pour monsieur le secrétaire
général’, 3 June 1943.
170 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

modernize the automobile industry in order to make it more productive

and competitive after the war. Several technical commissions, he added,
were already hard at work studying precise issues. Absent from his
remarks was any mention of the Germans: as noted in the previous
chapter, Lehideux had begun to conceive of the future in French as
opposed to Franco-German or European terms. Indeed, Lehideux pre-
dicted a ‘sharp commercial struggle’ between national automobile indus-
tries in the post-war period. More novel, however, were his prescriptions.
To equip the French automobile industry for this post-war struggle, he
argued, would require a ‘common plan of action’ as well as an ‘organiza-
tion’ capable of providing collective direction. Interestingly, Lehideux
imagined the latter as a revised version of the COA, though with one
significant difference: the post-war organization, he hastened to assure the
Conseil members, would be an instrument of the major automobile
companies and not of the government.57
Lehideux was clearly preparing his own future. In seeking to ensure
COA’s post-war existence, he expected to remain its chief. But
Lehideux’s interest in post-war planning also needs to be seen as an effort
to strengthen his waning authority within the automobile industry at the
time. Lehideux’s leadership of the industry was always bound to be con-
tested. His authoritarian style clashed with an industry ethos that celebrated
the independence, authority and genius of company directors, including
towering figures such as Louis Renault. If his contacts with both the French
and German authorities rendered Lehideux indispensable during the early
years of the Occupation, by 1943 his value appeared to be in decline.
Tellingly, in the early months of the year the major automobile companies
decided to resurrect their pre-war professional organization (Chambre
syndicale), which had been abolished by Vichy and effectively replaced by
the COA. A new administrative council was elected with two vice-
presidents and sixteen members, Dollfus among them.58 Although the
administrative council was mandated to cooperate with the COA, from
the start the Chambre syndicale infringed on the latter’s prerogatives. The
Chambre syndicale’s task, an internal memorandum announced in May
1943, was ‘to begin at once to apply or at least to prepare all measures which
favour the future prosperity of the automobile industry’.59

57
Ibid., ‘Discours de M. François Lehideux. Directeur responsable du C.O.A.’, Conseil de
l’Automobile, 9–11 May 1943. Emphasis in original.
58
See the file in CCFA, Carton: archives histoire, circulars, 25 May and 10 June 1943. Also
see Sauvy, Les organismes professionnels français de l’automobile et leurs acteurs, 167.
59
CCFA, Carton: archives histoire, ‘Annexe no. 1 à la lettre de 8 mai [1943]’. In the autumn
of 1943, Citroën simply refused to cooperate with the COA’s effort at post-war planning.
See AN 19830589/17, Citroën to Lehideux, 9 November 1942.
 Ford-Werke’s European truck programme 171

Confronted in 1943 with the reemergence of an institutional rival,

Lehideux felt compelled to justify the COA’s continued existence, not
to mention his own position. The need to plan for the post-war period
offered an opportunity to do so, but it was one that the resurrected
Chambre syndicale could also seize. In this context, Ford-Werke’s truck
production programme came as something of a godsend, allowing
Lehideux to demonstrate the COA’s pertinence. Ford-Werke’s pro-
gramme posed a threat not only to Ford SAF but also to the other major
automobile companies, which were expected to sacrifice their own pro-
grammes and plans. In seeking to modify Ford-Werke’s programme
Lehideux could remind the automobile companies of just how useful
the COA could be. But it also meant committing the COA to working
with the Germans at a time when industrial collaboration was losing its
appeal. For Lehideux, the challenge was to chart a course that would
satisfy Ford SAF, the other French automobile companies and the
Germans, all the while looking out for his own future.

Ford-Werke’s European truck programme

The immediate origins of Ford-Werke’s European truck programme are
to be found in Germany’s worsening military situation, particularly on the
eastern front. Locked in a colossal confrontation with the Red Army that
stretched over thousands of kilometres, the Wehrmacht was badly in need
of motorized transport. In 1941, the horse-powered infantry divisions
represented the great bulk of the German army, with the armoured,
motorized and lightly motorized divisions constituting a small if powerful
spear. From the outset of the invasion, as Martin Van Creveld argues, the
Germans operated on a logistical shoe-string, incapable of adequately
resupplying its troops. The lack of motorized transport placed incredible
strains on most soldiers, who were on foot and who desperately sought to
keep up with the rapidly advancing armoured and motorized units.
Several factors quickly exacerbated this situation, among them the great
distances involved, the region’s rudimentary transport structure and the
high rate of losses of vehicles.60 With the failure of Operation Barbarossa
in December 1941, the war in the East changed into an exhausting and
brutalizing struggle that had little to do with the Blitzkrieg of legend.
Meanwhile, the Red Army was becoming increasingly motorized, thanks

60
Martin Van Creveld, Supplying War: Logistics from Wallenstein to Patton (Cambridge,
2004 edn), 142–80. For the dependence on horses, see R.L. DiNardo and Austin Bay,
‘Horse-Drawn Transport in the German Army’, Journal of Contemporary History, 23
(1988), 129–42.
172 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

in large part to lend-lease. Between 1941 and 1945, the Soviet Union
received over 300,000 vehicles of all types from the western Allies, well
over 80 per cent of which comprised of trucks and other heavy vehicles.
Ironically, the vast majority of trucks sent to the Soviets were 6-ton Ford
trucks made in the United States.61
In light of this situation, the Germans were understandably desperate to
increase truck production. The problem was that the German automobile
industry did not appear up to the task. In 1941, the industry had produced
just over 86,000 trucks of various kinds; the following year the figure
dropped to 80,512. Set against losses, which for the opening three months
of 1942 alone numbered over 30,000, this level of output spelt impending
disaster.62 In 1942, the regime’s growing dissatisfaction with the German
automobile industry as a whole prompted Hitler himself to intervene to
demand the dismissal of General Schell as head of the GBK. Speer,
however, went further, replacing the GBK with an industry committee,
the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug, which was subordinated to the
Armaments Ministry. Headed by Wilhelm Schaaf, the director of
BMW, the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug had the urgent task of revital-
izing the automobile industry.63 Individual companies soon came under
intense pressure to boost output, with Ford-Werke being told to increase
its quarterly production of trucks from 4,000 to 7,000.64
To improve the automobile industry’s performance, Speer’s ministry
chiefly had in mind the continued ‘rationalization’ of production meth-
ods.65 In terms of trucks, government and industry officials strove to limit
the number of types and companies involved. During 1942, extended
discussions occurred over the merits of concentrating production of 3-ton
trucks (the Wehrmacht’s workhorse) in one of two models: that of Ford-
Werke or of Opel (GM). Initially, it was decided to build both models even
though Opel’s capacity was considerably greater (four times greater in

61
V. F. Vorsin, ‘Motor-Vehicle Transport Deliveries through “Lend-Lease” ’, Journal of
Slavic Military Studies, 10 (1997), 164. Citing American sources, Hubert P. van Tuyll
gives a figure of 363,080 for trucks alone. See his Feeding the Bear: American Aid to the
Soviet Union, 1941–1945 (Westport, 1989), 157.
62
Peter Leβmann, ‘Ford Paris im Zugriff von Ford Köln 1943’, Zeitschrift für
Unternehmensgeschichte, 38 (1993), 217–19. For production figures, see von Scherr-
Thoss, Die deutsche Automobilindustrie, 341; for losses, see Gregor, Daimler-Benz in the
Third Reich, 141.
63
Boelcke, ed., Deutschlands Rüstung im Zweiten Weltkrieg Hitlers, 8 July 1942, 152–3; and
Pesch, Struktur und Funktionsweise der Kriegswirtschaft in Deutschland ab 1942, 86–7.
64
BFRC, Ford-Werke, DOJ 0011168, ‘Protokoll über die Beiratssitzung der Ford-Werke
A.G. am Montag, den 17 August 1942, 16 Uhr’, undated.
65
SäSC, Auto Union 31050, 599, Wirtschaftsgruppe Fahrzeugindustrie, ‘Niederschrift
über die Beiratssitzung am 18. November 1942’, 27 November 1942.
 Ford-Werke’s European truck programme 173

1939) than Ford-Werke’s.66 But this decision was revised at the end of the
year. In December 1942, Speer not only expressly ordered the
Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug to increase truck production as quickly as
possible; he also gave it responsibility for overseeing production in the
occupied territories.67 This last point is especially significant. In imple-
menting Speer’s order, the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug placed the
emphasis on the Ford-Werke truck, despite the military’s clear preference
for that of Opel, which it judged more reliable. Although the possibility of
compelling Ford-Werke to build Opel trucks under licence was considered,
this option was rejected, partly because of the long delays required to
convert Ford-Werke’s productive capacity. But another factor was Ford-
Werke’s presumed ability to draw on the productive resources of occupied
Europe – an advantage that Opel did not share.68 The initial programme
called for the production of 2,000 trucks/month by Ford-Werke and
another 2,000 from the other Ford companies in Europe, foremost
among them Ford SAF. Speaking to Ford-Werke’s board of directors in
January 1943, Schmidt noted that the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug had
instructed him ‘to pursue the complete exploitation of French [productive]
potential’ for the truck programme.69
No one greeted the announcement of the European truck programme
with more enthusiasm than Ford-Werke and its director, Schmidt.
During 1942, Ford-Werke experienced production problems, with its
overall output of vehicles declining slightly as compared to 1941.70
Faced with mounting pressure to do better, the company recognized
that any significant improvement would be impossible without outside
help. It was ‘pointless’ to talk of increased output, Schmidt told the
Armaments Ministry in September 1942, without additional supplies of

66
BFRC, Ford-Werke, FW 0001927–30, ‘Bericht über die Besprechung im
Kraftfahrausschuss am Freitag, 5.6.42’; and SäSC, Auto Union 31050, 599,
Wirtschaftsgruppe Fahrzeugindustrie, ‘Niederschrift über die Beiratssitzung am 25.
März 1942’, 30 March 1942.
67
BA-MA RW 24/42, ‘Anordnung’, Speer, 24 December 1942.
68
GM’s French affiliate was tiny compared to Ford SAF. See AN AJ 40/608, ‘Bericht über
die im Auftrag des Militärbefehlshabers in Frankreich durchgefürhrte Überprüfung der
Geschäfts- und Amtsführung des kommiassarischen Verwalters der Firmen General
Motors (France) S.A. und Bougie A.G.’, Dr Hans Buwert, 26 November 1943.
69
BAL R 87/6205, ‘Protokoll über die Besprechung der Ford-Werke AG am Mittwoch,
dem 13. Januar 1943’, undated. For the army’s preference for Opel trucks, see MBA,
Bestand Haspel, 7.1, Generalstab des Heeres Org. Abt. (IIIB) to Chef H. Rüst u. BdE, 16
November 1942.
70
Reich, Research Findings about Ford-Werke under the Nazi Regime, 36; and BA-MA RW 21/
35/11, Rü Kdo Köln, ‘Rückblick über die rüstungswirtschaftliche Entwicklung in der Zeit
vom 2. Marz 1942 bis 31. Mai 1942’, which noted a 7 per cent drop in Ford-Werke’s
production as compared to January–February 1942.
174 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

machines, raw matériels, parts and manpower.71 Like other German

companies, Ford-Werke would use slave labour in an attempt to bridge
the widening gap between needs and resources. But slave labour was a
partial answer at best, providing no solution to the pressing problem of
matériel shortages. Ford-Werke found itself particularly handicapped by
delivery delays on the part of its German sub-suppliers, many of whom
suffered from raw matériel shortages.72 Again like other companies, Ford-
Werke looked for replacement sub-suppliers in occupied Europe: the
company was especially active in France, placing orders with several
companies, among them Peugeot.73 Given the size of the new truck
production programme, however, the productive capacity of occupied
France would have to be exploited in a more systematic fashion. And for
Ford-Werke, this meant mobilizing Ford SAF’s potential.
But Ford-Werke’s interest in Ford SAF was not rooted in the needs of
the new truck programme alone. Schmidt had never abandoned his hope
to profit from Germany’s military successes to ensure Ford-Werke’s post-
war dominance of Ford’s continental European empire. That an outright
German victory had begun to appear doubtful by late 1942 – early 1943
did not prompt Schmidt to revise his ambitions. If anything, the uncer-
tainty surrounding the future reinforced arguments in favour of wartime
faits accomplis: only by acting now could Ford-Werke establish its control
over the various companies. In presenting the truck programme to Ford-
Werke’s board in January 1943, Schmidt stressed how it would help to
draw the various Ford companies into the German orbit, including those
in neutral countries such as Sweden and Spain. He was blunter still in a
letter to the Economics Ministry two months later. If Ford-Werke could
not gain ‘legal influence’ over the these companies, Schmidt explained, it
must at least make them ‘dependent to a considerable extent’. Ford-
Werke would then be able ‘to lay its hands more firmly’ on these compa-
nies if and when circumstances allowed.74
Schmidt had no doubt that Ford SAF constituted the principal obstacle
to his ambitions. Describing the French company in January 1943 as a
‘problem child’, he singled out Dollfus for particular blame. From the

71
BFRC, Ford-Werke, FW 0001908–1909, ‘Aktennotiz’, 24 September 1942.
72
For slave labour, see Reich, Research Findings about Ford-Werke under the Nazi Regime, 45–
71; and Karola Fings, ‘Forced Labor at Ford Werke in Cologne’ in Reinhold Billstein
et al., eds., Working for the Enemy, 135–62. For problems with sub-suppliers, see the
memoranda in BFRC, Ford-Werke, FW 0001910–1913.
73
For Peugeot, see the file in AP DOS 2009 RE-5813 on the supply of truck cabins. Also see
the list of contracts in T 73/2, COA to GBK, no. 10704, 1 April 1942.
74
BAL R 87/6205, ‘Protokoll über die Besprechung der Ford-Werke AG am Mittwoch,
dem 13. Januar 1943’; and BFRC, Ford-Werke, NARA 0000491, Schmidt (Ford-Werke)
to Herrn Gusmann, 10 March 1943.
 The Luxembourg accord 175

outset of the Occupation, Schmidt complained, Dollfus had resisted

Ford-Werke’s efforts to integrate Ford SAF into its ‘overall planning’,
engaging in ‘passive resistance’ and even sabotage.75 Determined to get
rid of Dollfus yet well aware that the latter enjoyed the backing of occu-
pation officials in France, Schmidt worked hard to gain the support of
German authorities in Berlin. In particular, he sought to stoke the growing
concerns over production, circulating reports that Ford SAF’s output was
deficient in terms both of quantity and quality.76 Schmidt soon gained an
important ally in the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug – and, by extension,
Speer’s Armaments Ministry. In a January 1943 letter to German arma-
ments officials in France, the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug denounced
what it called the ‘bad faith’ of the French automobile industry as a whole
and accused its companies of shirking their commitments. In this light, it
is hardly surprising that the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug gave him an
‘explicit mandate’ to ensure the ‘full use of the French productive poten-
tial’. Just as importantly, Schmidt was to be ‘completely independent’ and
‘free of the authority of other [German] officials’.77

The Luxembourg accord

Sometime in late December 1942 – early January 1943 the
Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug officially ordered Ford-Werke to draw
up a European truck programme. Its projected size (a monthly output of
2,000 trucks and parts for 2,000 more) required the participation of the
other Ford companies on the continent and that of Ford SAF in partic-
ular, whose productive capacity was easily the largest after Ford-Werke’s.
In tapping Ford SAF’s potential, Schmidt initially hesitated between two
options: confiscating Ford SAF or renting its factories for the duration of
the war. Quickly, however, he chose the second option, presumably
because German policy in general excluded the confiscation of enemy-
owned companies. For Schmidt, in any case, the most important consid-
eration was to possess ‘full powers’ over Ford SAF. Ford-Werke must
have control over the running of the company.78

75
BAL R 87/6205, ‘Protokoll über die Besprechung der Ford-Werke AG am Mittwoch,
dem 13. Januar 1943’.
76
BA-MA RW 24/106, Rü Kdo Paris West, Kriegstagebuch, 25–31 January 1943; and
BFRC, Ford-Werke, FW 0001908–1909, ‘Aktennotiz’, 24 September 1942.
77
The letter has not been found but excerpts are quoted in the response. See NARA T 77/
1254, Deutsche Beschaffungsamt Frankreich to Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeu (Schaaf),
19 January 1943; also see BAL R 87/6205, ‘Protokoll über die Besprechung der Ford-
Werke AG am Mittwoch, dem 13. Januar 1943’.
78
BAL R 87/6205, ‘Protokoll über die Besprechung der Ford-Werke AG am Mittwoch,
dem 13. Januar 1943’.
176 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

Soon afterwards, Ford SAF learnt of the truck programme and of its
assigned role. Predictably, its response was less than enthusiastic. At a
board meeting in February 1943, Dollfus warned that the company’s very
existence was at stake. Echoing this warning, the board declared that ‘it
could but protest against eventual foreign interference in the management
of the affairs of our Company’.79 Ford SAF, it is worth stressing, was not
opposed to contributing to Ford-Werke’s truck programme. During the
second half of 1942 the company had sought to raise production to the
levels attained before the spring 1942 bombings; its principal customer,
moreover, remained the Germans. At the end of 1942, before the
announcement of the truck programme, Ford SAF’s major complaints
concerned its production programme for the first quarter of 1943, which it
deemed to be ‘fairly low’, and the inadequate prices it received for the
trucks and truck parts it sold to the Wehrmacht and to Ford-Werke.80
Thus, if Dollfus initially balked at Ford-Werke’s European truck pro-
gramme it was chiefly because of the menace it posed to Ford SAF’s
independence.
After some discussion, Ford SAF’s board reluctantly concluded that a
compulsory rental agreement was preferable to the requisition of its
facilities by Ford-Werke. Interestingly, it made its acceptance of a rental
agreement conditional on a written request from the French government.
Dollfus wanted proof that Ford SAF had bowed to force majeure. But the
board was by no means resigned to defeat. Dollfus was thus instructed to
seek the help of Lehideux in what it described as a clear violation of the
January 1941 protocol between the COA and the GBK.81
Dollfus, in fact, had not waited for the board’s approval to contact
Lehideux, who quickly agreed to support Ford SAF. In a memorandum
to the German authorities in early February 1943, the COA refuted Ford-
Werke’s claims that Ford SAF’s output was abnormally low, pointing to
the steady increase since the air raids of spring 1942. On the issue of
quality, the COA contended that problems could be traced largely to
defective parts from Ford SAF’s suppliers as well as from Ford-Werke.
To sort through rival allegations regarding quality, the memorandum
suggested the creation of a joint inquiry by the COA and German officials.
But the most striking element of the memorandum was its conclusion,

79
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, Ford SAF, ‘Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on
February 18, 1943’.
80
For the programme, see AN 3W/229, GB Rü Paris to COA, 17 December 1942.
81
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, Ford SAF, ‘Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on
February 18, 1943’.
 The Luxembourg accord 177

which amounted to a principled rejection of any discriminatory treatment

of Ford SAF:
In any case, the COA wishes to underscore that Ford Poissy is a French company,
established on [French] metropolitan soil and, as a consequence, subject to
French laws and regulations and, in particular, subject to control by the COA in
the same manner as other French automobile companies. In this situation, the
COA’s position is very clear: there can be no difference between the Ford com-
pany and any other French automobile company.82

Armed with the memorandum, Lehideux arranged to see his long-time

partner on the German side, General Thoenissen. Although his
Beschaffungsamt had been incorporated into Speer’s reorganized arma-
ments administration, Thoenissen remained a key German official when
it came to the French automobile industry. Meeting with Thoenissen in
mid-February, Lehideux explained that Ford-Werke’s proposal to rent
Ford SAF’s facilities involved a ‘certain number of inconveniences’ and
would almost certainly prove disruptive in the short term. Continuing,
Lehideux appealed to the history of close collaboration between the two
men, insisting that he sought ‘constructive solutions’. He then handed
Thoenissen a counter-proposal based on the January 1941 protocol. In
return for its wholehearted participation in the truck programme, Ford
SAF would remain independent rather than being placed under Ford-
Werke’s control. To ensure compliance, Lehideux recommended the
establishment of a ‘technical liaison’ between the two Ford companies
as well as the appointment of COA controllers, who would exercise a
‘permanent technical oversight’ of Ford SAF. Put simply, the COA
proposed that it be made responsible for Ford SAF’s cooperation.83
Despite Thoenissen’s promise to consider Lehideux’s proposals, COA
officials were pessimistic about the outcome. In private, they accepted the
possibility of a rental agreement, however ‘painful’ this might be.84 Their
pessimism proved to be well founded. In a lengthy letter to Lehideux,
Thoenissen rejected the COA’s counter-proposal. For the truck pro-
gramme to succeed, Thoenissen explained, the various Ford companies
must be united under Ford-Werke’s ‘centralized direction’. Past experi-
ence indicated that Ford SAF’s cooperation could not be assured if it
remained independent. Aside from the personal tensions between

82
AN 3W/227, ‘Note sur la production de la Société Ford Française et sur la qualité de ses
fabrications’, Paris, 10 February 1943.
83
AN 3W/229, ‘Compte-rendu de l’entretien entre le Général Thoenissen et M. Lehideux
du 15.2.1943’, undated, and attached untitled note, 15 February 1943.
84
AN 3W/227, ‘Compte-rendu de Messieurs Lehideux et L’Epine avec le Secrétire Général
Norguet et M. Bellier, le 15.2.1943’.
178 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

Schmidt and Dollfus, he continued, the underlying problem concerned

the contradictory interests of the two companies which made ‘disagree-
ments’ inevitable. The COA’s proposed ‘technical oversight’ appeared to
be too weak to make sure that Ford-Werke’s interests and needs predo-
minated. Indeed, Thoenissen argued that the COA counter-proposal
amounted to little more than the status quo, which was ‘unacceptable’.
Since neither Lehideux nor Dollfus could guarantee Ford SAF’s loyal
cooperation with the truck programme, Thoenissen reiterated his belief
that the ‘simplest and clearest solution’ would be for Ford-Werke to rent
the company’s factories. As for Dollfus, he would be put on paid leave
since any ‘active collaboration’ with him was simply impossible.85
Notwithstanding Thoenissen’s apparent firmness, Lehideux made one
last attempt to change his mind. In a personal letter, Lehideux contended
that the COA’s counter-proposal of 15 February represented the limit of
what he could accept. As COA president, Lehideux could not tolerate that
a foreign company (Ford-Werke) succeeded in eliminating the director of
a French company (Ford SAF), all the more so since he had given his
personal guarantee of Dollfus’ willingness to cooperate. Refusing outright
to help negotiate a rental agreement between the two companies,
Lehideux effectively challenged Thoenissen to carry out his threat to
dictate terms to Ford SAF or to confiscate the company outright. But
Lehideux did not stop there. Echoing Dollfus, he castigated the proposed
take-over of Ford SAF as a violation of the January 1941 protocol, which
remained the basis of Franco-German collaboration in the automobile
industry. To underscore the stakes involved, Lehideux informed
Thoenissen that he would have to consult the French government on his
future course of action. The message was clear: neither for the first nor (as
we shall see) last time, Lehideux threatened to end his collaboration with
the Germans.86
What happened next almost certainly surprised Lehideux and his offi-
cials at the COA. The Germans backed down – at least in good part. The
decisive moment came in late February when Thoenissen invited
Lehideux, Schmidt and the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s chief
(Schaaf) to a two-day meeting in Luxembourg to consider the matter of
Ford SAF. Although no record of the discussions has been found, the
meeting did result in an accord. The participants agreed that an ‘experi-
ment’ would be run during March 1943 to test Ford SAF’s readiness and
ability to cooperate. Ford-Werke pledged to provide ‘active’ help to Ford

85
AN 3W/229, Thoenissen to Lehideux, 16 February 1943 and accompanying note.
86
AN 3W/234, ‘Projet de lettre au Général Thoenissen’, undated but February 1943. The
final version of the letter has not been found.
 The Luxembourg accord 179

SAF and Lehideux promised to exert ‘the strongest pressure’ on the

French company – pressure that would include the appointment of tech-
nical advisors. Under the terms of the accord, Dollfus would be given a
production programme for the month of March, and on 1 April Lehideux
and Schmidt would meet to examine the results. If the two agreed that
Ford SAF had performed satisfactorily, then the company would remain
under Dollfus’ direction; if they agreed otherwise, then Ford-Werke
would take control of Ford SAF through a ‘rental contract’ and the
appointment of new directors. Thoenissen would have the final say in
the event that Lehideux and Schmidt disagreed on the results of the
experiment.87
Admittedly, the accord was not a final settlement. A take-over of Ford
SAF remained possible. In March 1943, Schaaf confidently reported to
the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug that Ford-Werke was increasing its
grip over Ford SAF.88 But Schaaf’s assessment was exceedingly optimis-
tic. In terms of gaining control over Ford SAF, the Luxembourg accord
reflected a defeat more than an opportunity. If Ford-Werke ever had a
chance to take over Ford SAF, it was in early 1943: Schmidt enjoyed the
support of German authorities in both Berlin and Paris while the COA
was pessimistic about what it could do. This favourable conjuncture
would not reappear, as the Luxembourg accord granted Ford SAF not
merely a reprieve but new life.89 With the help of Lehideux and the COA,
Dollfus would have the time to prepare a more effective defence against
Ford-Werke. Significantly, Schmidt himself appears to have realized that
the moment had passed. At a meeting of French and German officials in
early March 1943, Schmidt’s representative explained that Ford-Werke
now thought it best to allow Ford SAF and the COA together to oversee
France’s contribution to the European truck programme. Ford-Werke
would offer suggestions but all decisions regarding the application of the
programme would be taken by the French.90 Although Schmidt would
continue to criticize Dollfus, he had abandoned his larger ambition of
taking over Ford SAF.

87
A copy of the accord is in BA-MA RW 24/42, ‘Anlässlich der Verhandlungen am 21. und
22. Februar 1943 über die Einfügung der Ford S.A.F. in das vom Hauptausschuss
Kraftfahrzeugindustrie angeordnete Gesamtbauprogram’, 22 February 1943.
88
BAL R 3101/9088, Wirtschaftsgruppe Fahrzeugindustrie, ‘Niederschrift über die
Beiratssitzung am 24. Marz 1943’, undated.
89
Leβmann makes this important point in ‘Ford Paris im Zugriff von Ford Köln 1943’,
225.
90
AN 3W/227, ‘Compte-rendu de l’entretrien du 6 mars ayant pour but de donner des
éclaircissements sur la lettre du Monsieur R.H. Schmidt du 2 mars 1943’, undated; and
ibid., Schmidt to Lehideux, 2 March 1943.
180 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

The obvious question is why Thoenissen backed down. It was certainly

not because of any opposition on Vichy’s part. If anything, the French
government appears to have approved of Ford-Werke’s proposal. The
priority for Bichelonne and the MPI was to encourage the Germans to
employ French factories and workers in France; the issue of Ford SAF’s
independence was of comparatively little concern.91 To explain
Thoenissen’s decision, one must start with Thoenissen himself.
Although Thoenissen had little sympathy for Dollfus, there are good
reasons to suspect that his initial support of Ford-Werke’s proposal was
less vigorous than it seemed. Jealous of his authority, Thoenissen made it
clear to Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug representatives among others that
he intended to retain the ultimate say in all matters concerning the French
automobile industry.92 No less importantly, from the outset of the
Occupation Thoenissen had conceived of his role as that of a mediator
between the occupation authorities and the French automobile industry.
Often enough, mediation translated into the defence of French automo-
bile companies against what he viewed to be excessive German ambitions.
During 1942, Thoenissen had resisted Daimler-Benz’s efforts to gain
control of Renault; and in early 1943, he did the same regarding the
relationship between Volkswagen and Peugeot.93 When one adds to the
mix his close professional and even personal relationship with Lehideux, it
is not surprising that Thoenissen proved to be well disposed towards Ford
SAF.
But Thoenissen’s sympathies alone cannot explain why he abandoned
his initial support for Ford-Werke’s control of Ford SAF. Thoenissen
understood perhaps better than anyone that the European truck pro-
gramme depended on the willing cooperation of the French automobile
industry in general and of Ford SAF in particular. Thoenissen had admit-
ted as much to Lehideux when he remarked that Ford-Werke sought
access to Ford SAF’s ‘practical knowledge’ (connaissances) of production

91
After the Liberation, both Lehideux and Dollfus remarked upon Bichelonne’s unhelpful
position. See AN 3W/221, Lehideux deposition, 13 October 1944; and Dollfus deposi-
tion, 9 November 1944.
92
NARA T 77/1254, ‘Aktenvermerk über Besprechung im Deutschen Beschaffungsamt am
9.3.1943’, undated. By the spring of 1943 Thoenissen appears to have been losing
patience with Dollfus. See AN 19830589/17, ‘Note sur l’affaire Ford’, undated but
post-Liberation.
93
For Renault, see MBA, Carl Shippert file, Shippert to Kissel, 29 January 1942. For
Peugeot, see BA-MA RW 24/42, ‘Aktennotiz über Besprechung in Angelegenheit
Volkswagen-Werk-Peugeot im D.B.A. am 10.2.43’, 10 February 1943; and
Peter Leβmann, ‘Industriebeziehungen zwischen Deutschland und Frankreich während
der deutschen Besatzung 1940–1944. Das Biespiel Peugeot – Volkswagenwerk’, Francia,
17 (1990), 121–53.
 From February to April 1943 181

gained over several years as well to its extensive network of suppliers and
sub-suppliers.94 Even the outright confiscation of Ford SAF’s factories,
had it been politically feasible, would not have provided these two ele-
ments. To exploit Ford SAF’s productive potential to the full, Ford-
Werke needed Dollfus’ help. In the end, Thoenissen’s hard-line position
was a bluff aimed at weighing the balance of collaboration in the German
company’s favour. When Lehideux called his bluff, Thoenissen had no
choice but to back down.

From February to April 1943

Despite the defeat of its ambitions to take over Ford SAF, Ford-Werke
still needed the former to participate in its European truck programme.
As Schmidt explained in a lengthy letter to Major H. Tannen, the
assistant enemy assets administrator at Ford SAF, the combined efforts
of the Ford companies in Germany, France, Belgium and Holland
would be required to meet the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s target
of 2,000 trucks/month (and parts for 2,000 more trucks). Given Ford
SAF’s disappointing production results in terms of both quantity and
quality, Schmidt wanted it to concentrate on making complete engines
as well as parts for gear-boxes and rear axles. Although Ford SAF
might be allowed to produce some of the 2,000 trucks, Ford-Werke
would remain at the centre of the combined production process,
receiving truck parts from the various Ford companies which it would
then assemble.
In outlining Ford SAF’s projected role, Schmidt identified several
potential problems. One problem was Ford-Werke’s demand that Ford
SAF centralize its engine production in one location, preferably at La
Courneuve, just outside of Paris. Schmidt believed such a measure to
be essential in order to oversee and improve the quality and quantity of
output; for Ford SAF, however, this centralization of production risked
diverting resources from the rebuilding of Poissy, which remained the
priority.95 Another problem stemmed from Ford-Werke’s desire to
transfer machines between companies to ensure maximum efficiency.
In particular, Schmidt proposed to send 100 to 150 machines from
Ford SAF to Ford-Werke and perhaps a handful in the opposite direc-
tion. It is hard to imagine a proposal more likely to arouse Dollfus’
suspicion and ire. A third problem involved the standardization of
production on Ford-Werke’s 3-ton truck. Issues of compatibility

94
AN 3W/229, Thoenissen to Lehideux, 16 February 1943.
95
AN 3W/228, Schmidt to Tannen, 2 March 1943 (French translation).
182 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

inevitably arose because Ford SAF had been making its own 3-ton
truck. Although some parts could be used in both trucks, many could
not. The need to adapt Ford SAF’s production to the German model
raised numerous questions that offered fertile ground for dispute,
among them: how much time was needed to complete the transition
and which production standards were to be used.96 Regarding such
questions, Schmidt informed Tannen that ‘common action’ could help
smooth over the difficulties, but this smacked of wishful thinking. Ford
SAF’s sub-suppliers constituted the fourth and final problem. With
good reason, Schmidt wondered whether they would be able to deliver
sufficient matériel to Ford SAF to permit it to meet the European truck
programme’s production targets. Earlier, in September 1942, similar
doubts had prompted him to judge that Ford SAF might be able to
produce at most enough parts for 500 trucks/month.97 Yet having
drawn Tannen’s attention to this critical issue, Schmidt proceeded to
downplay its significance, maintaining that reliable sub-suppliers could
be found within the French automobile industry as a whole.98
Schmidt’s solution to these problems was to keep a close watch over
Ford SAF, even if he could not do so directly. Dollfus would continue to
run the company, he instructed Tannen, but all ‘decisions of principle’
regarding the truck programme would be approved by Ford-Werke,
thereby assuring what he termed a ‘single viewpoint’. To enforce this
‘single viewpoint’, Schmidt sought to develop an entente with Tannen.
As he elaborated:
I want in every case to prevent erroneous conclusions from being drawn from
conversations and minor frictions that will almost certainly be unavoidable; I want
in every case an objective picture, a well-defined programme so that agreement can
exist on all sides on the goal to pursue and so that a single line is assured. For these
reasons, I ask that you base yourself solely on the information I give you and to
consider all other viewpoints as not binding and as [merely] personal information
from your interlocutor.

96
Germans blamed disappointing production in the French aircraft industry largely on the
difficulties of switching from French to German models. See Bettina Glaβ, ‘Der lange
Schatten der Rüstung: Die Entwicklung der Luftfahrtindustrie im Raum Toulouse von
der Mitte der 1930er Jahre bis 1970’, Ph.D., Ruhr-Universitä Bochum, 2004, 94. For a
valuable discussion of the situation in the French aircraft industry, see Chapman, State
Capitalism, 237–55.
97
BFRC, Ford-Werke, FW 0001908, ‘Aktennotiz’, 24 September 1942.
98
AN 3W/228, Schmidt to Tannen, 2 March 1943.
 From February to April 1943 183

At the same time, Schmidt did not fully trust Tannen, who seemed all too
ready to defend Ford SAF’s interests.99 Accordingly, he decided to
appoint to Ford SAF a liaison person (B. Behr) directly subordinated to
him as well as several technical advisors from Ford-Werke.100 Together,
they would watch over Dollfus – and Tannen.
While Schmidt sought to make the best of his initial defeat, Lehideux
was determined to use the time gained by the Luxembourg accord to limit
if not eliminate Ford-Werke’s influence over Ford SAF. Lest Schmidt
harbour any lingering hopes of taking over Ford SAF, the COA chief
bluntly informed him in early March 1943 that ‘I do not accept it [a take-
over] and I will not accept it.’ No less tellingly, Lehideux added that ‘I
have every intention of remaining master [of the automobile industry] in
France.’101 More concretely, Lehideux attached to Ford SAF two close
collaborators as COA ‘controllers’, Amaury L’Epine and Jean-Marie
Ricq. After the Liberation of France, both men would claim that they
sought every opportunity to thwart Ford-Werke – claims which do not
appear to have been merely post-hoc justifications. In instructions to
Ricq, Lehideux identified his chief mission as ‘the defence of the Ford
factories’, which he deemed essential for ‘safeguarding the interests of the
automobile industry and above all for the defence of the country’s inter-
ests’.102 Ricq, in particular, proved to be an inspired choice. Having lived
under German occupation during World War I and having been con-
demned to death for distributing illegal newspapers, Ricq was not partic-
ularly fond of the Germans. The task of defending Ford SAF and the
French automobile industry against German encroachments was one that
he enthusiastically endorsed.
As part of the Luxembourg accord, Lehideux had promised that COA
officials would cooperate with Ford-Werke’s advisors, jointly examining
complaints regarding Ford SAF and identifying ways to improve the
quality and quantity of its output. In reality, however, the COA was
never interested in such cooperation. Immediately upon taking up his
duties as controller, L’Epine informed Tannen that the COA believed
Ford SAF’s performance to be ‘satisfactory’. To some extent, L’Epine
was merely echoing Dollfus’ repeated affirmations that Ford-Werke’s

99
Ford SAF admitted as much after the Liberation, noting that Tannen (and his succes-
sors) acted with ‘consideration’ for Ford SAF’s rights. See AP, Ford SAF, DOS 2008
RE-30422, Ford SAF, ‘Rapport sur la vie de Ford S.A.F. pendant la guerre (1er
Septembre 1939 – 1er Novembre 1944)’, 13.
100
AN 3W/228, Schmidt to Tannen, 2 March 1943.
101
AN 3W/234, Schmidt to Tannen, 2 March 1943, and attached letter.
102
For instructions, see AN 3W/221, Lehideux to Ricq, 1 March 1943.
184 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

complaints were unfounded.103 But some dishonesty was also involved.

Under the terms of the Luxembourg accord, the COA’s technical services
submitted two of Ford SAF’s trucks to a thorough examination. The
results were not encouraging. When overlooked slightly, the two trucks
soon exhibited numerous problems: the engine flooded with oil, the
electrical system broke down completely and ‘serious defects’ afflicted
both the brake and suspension systems.104 Fortunately for Ford SAF, the
COA does not appear to have forwarded its report either to Ford-Werke
or to the German authorities.
While the COA withheld damning information, Ricq and L’Epine
pursued a subtle two-pronged strategy of obstruction in their activities
as controllers. One prong consisted of feigning genuine cooperation with
Ford-Werke and the German armaments staff. Taken together, frequent
meetings, multiple factory inspections, detailed technical discussions of
various aspects of production and an extensive examination of each and
every complaint seemingly held out the prospect of practical progress
while, in fact, creating few concrete results.105 Attention to endless minu-
tiae marked the interaction of the two controllers with Ford-Werke offi-
cials, which not only consumed time and energy but also helped to ensure
that the larger issue – that of Ford SAF’s willingness to contribute to the
truck programme – receded from view. The second prong of the strategy
was to absolve Ford SAF of responsibility for ongoing difficulties. From
the beginning, the COA’s controllers contended that many of Ford SAF’s
production efforts were hampered by Ford-Werke, whose output suffered
from quantity and quality problems. That Ford-Werke’s own trucks
continued to be the object of complaints from the Wehrmacht no doubt
strengthened the credibility of this contention among the German author-
ities in France.106 Ricq and L’Epine also drew attention to Ford SAF’s
lack of sufficient machine tools appropriate for making truck engines and
parts that conformed to Ford-Werke’s specifications. Since these machine
tools could not be found in France, they would have to come from
Germany – that is to say, from Ford-Werke. Rather than trying to seize
Ford SAF’s machines for use elsewhere, they insisted, Ford-Werke

103
See AN 3W/234, ‘Memento relative à mon entretien du 10 courant avec le Major
Tannen et M. Behr’, L’Epine, March 1943; and 3W/228, Dollfus to Lehideux, 5
March 1943.
104
AN 3W/228, ‘Note de service’, COA, 3 April 1943.
105
For example, see AN 3W/227, ‘Sujets à traiter à la conférence de fabrications d’acces-
soires éléctriques’, 22 March 1943; and 3W/228 for reports on a series of factory visits.
106
For complaints about quality, see the report in BFRC, Ford-Werke, FW 0001360–1374,
‘Bericht über Generator – Versuchtsfahren bei der Ford Motor Company A/S,
Kopenhagen’, July 1943.
 From February to April 1943 185

should transfer some of its own machines to France. When not pointing a
finger at Ford-Werke, the COA’s controllers invoked the overall situation
of penury in France, exploiting the reality of shortages in an effort to
reduce German expectations regarding Ford SAF’s ultimate contribution
to the European truck programme.107
A wrangle over Ford SAF’s test programme for March 1943 helped
Ricq and L’Epine in their strategy of obstruction. At the beginning of the
month, German armaments officials handed Tannen a programme which
called on Ford SAF to produce a small number of French trucks (after
which it would switch to the German model) as well as several hundred
engines, rear axles and additional parts.108 Dollfus immediately protested
not only the late arrival of the programme but also its output targets, which
were supposedly too low to permit Ford SAF to make sufficient profits to
sustain itself. This second complaint is worth emphasizing, suggesting as
it does that in early 1943 Ford SAF objected to the terms of its partic-
ipation in Ford-Werke’s truck programme rather than to working for the
Germans. But Dollfus was not interested in immediate profits alone.
Unhappy with the prospect of merely making truck engines and truck
parts for Ford-Werke, he wanted Ford SAF to produce not only complete
trucks but complete French trucks. As he explained to Lehideux, it was
vital that Ford SAF continue to make its French model for otherwise it
would lose valuable expertise.109 If Ford SAF focused exclusively on the
German model, it would be badly placed after the war to take advantage of
what Dollfus believed would be a large demand for trucks within France
and its empire. Under COA pressure, the German authorities gave way,
agreeing to increase the March targets for trucks and, more satisfying still,
to allow Ford SAF to keep producing French trucks for the time being.110
The latter decision represented a considerable victory for Dollfus in the
medium term, for the longer Ford SAF made French trucks, the more
difficult it would be fully to convert machines and machine tools for the
German model. In the immediate term, meanwhile, considerable confu-
sion surrounded the March 1943 targets. And with so much confusion
there could be no clear-cut test of Ford SAF’s willingness and ability to
participate in Ford-Werke’s European truck programme. Tellingly, by the
second half of March 1943 all talk of a test appeared to have ceased.

107
AN 3W/234, L’Epine to Norroy (COA), 2 March 1943; and 3W/227, ‘Résumé de
l’exposé de Monsieur Messis au sujet d’approvisionnement’, 1 March 1943.
108
AN 3W/228, Stahlberg to Tannen, 2 March 1943; and ibid., Dollfus to COA, 4 March
1943.
109
AN 3W/228, Dollfus to Lehideux, 5 March 1943.
110
AN 3W/227, COA to Brückner (Hauptgruppe Motorsierung im Heereswaffenamt), 15
March 1943; and 3W/228, Tannen to Brückner, 15 March 1943.
186 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

Ford-Werke’s European truck programme, however, did not threaten

Ford SAF alone. To help maximize Ford SAF’s contribution, Ford-
Werke demanded that its programme be assigned priority within the
French automobile industry, which would allow it to draw on the pro-
ductive capacity of other companies. This was important because most
companies possessed their own production programmes for the Germans:
during the first half of 1943, for example, Renault was supposed to deliver
6,000 3.5-ton trucks, Citroën 2,680 3.5-ton trucks and Peugeot between
500 and 600 2-ton trucks.111 Together, these programmes would eat up
scarce resources, leaving little for Ford-Werke. Having long sought to
rationalize French industry, the German authorities readily agreed that
the activities of the major French automobile companies, together with
their suppliers, should be geared increasingly towards the needs of Ford-
Werke’s programme. Accordingly, in March 1943 the Hauptausschuss
Kraftfahrzeug’s representative in France informed the COA that the five
major automobile companies (Citroën, Renault, Peugeot, Berliet and
Sauer) should cease production of new vehicles for the Wehrmacht by
the end of the year. Rather than producing their own vehicle models, these
companies would supply various truck parts to Ford SAF and Ford-
Werke.112
Not surprisingly, the major French automobile companies had no
desire to abandon their own production programmes in which they had
invested considerable expertise and resources and which promised high
profits. Nor did they find the prospect of working for a rival company
attractive. Renault’s directors, for example, did not disguise their animos-
ity towards Ford SAF, telling German armaments officials their company
was far better suited for Ford-Werke’s programme.113 At the same time,
Renault and the other French automobile companies would need help to
resist a reorganization of their industry in favour of Ford SAF. And so they
turned to the COA. Lehideux, eager to reaffirm his authority over the
industry, seized on the opportunity. In March 1943, he convoked a meet-
ing of company directors at which it was agreed that the COA would take
the lead in thwarting the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s plans.114

111
For the programmes, see AN 3W/229, ‘Note pour Messieurs Champomier [et] Norroy’,
7 December 1942. All three companies were also supposed to produce large numbers of
vehicle parts for the Germans. See ibid., ‘État des prévisions de livraisons des pièces
détachées en 1943’, undated.
112
See NARA T 77/1254, ‘Aktenvermerk über Besprechung im Deutschen
Beschaffungsamt am 9.3.1943’, undated; and MBA, Bestand Haspel, Teil 1,
Reichminister für Bewaffnung und Munition, ‘Niederschrift über die 2. Sitzung der
Kraftfahrzeug-Kommission am 18.05.1943’, 25 May 1943.
113
BA-MA RW 24/100, Rü Kdo, Paris-Mitte, Kriegstagebuch, 24–30 May 1943.
114
AN Z/6NL/81, Lehideux deposition, 18 June 1948.
 The April 1943 agreements 187

The April 1943 agreements

In the spring of 1943, Lehideux had three immediate goals: to reaffirm
the COA’s authority at the head of the French automobile industry; to
preserve Ford SAF’s independence; and to prevent the subordination of
French automobile companies to the needs of Ford-Werke’s European
truck programme. Lehideux’s first step was to reassure the Germans of
his willingness to cooperate with them. Thus, towards the end of March
he signed a protocol with the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug in which he
promised the COA’s ‘close collaboration’ in efforts to reorganize the
automobile industry.115 But this promise was vague. In a series of meet-
ings soon afterwards French and German officials discussed the details
of this ‘close collaboration’. The Germans were impressed by the seem-
ing goodwill on the French side. The discussions, one report enthused,
took place ‘in a spirit of [mutual] accommodation and understanding’,
adding that they ‘could be viewed as a model of how cooperation
between a German committee and its corresponding Comité d’organi-
sation in the planning and placing of contracts should occur’.116 On
closer inspection, however, the discussions revealed a good deal of
hesitation and doubtful commitments on the part of both the French
and Germans.
As stipulated in the Luxembourg accord, Lehideux and Schmidt met in
Paris on 1 April to review the results of Ford SAF’s month-long ‘test’.
Significantly, neither mentioned the rental of Ford SAF by Ford-Werke.
This option no longer existed. Instead, the two men outlined the terms of
their future cooperation. Ford SAF would remain independent and in
return it would contribute to the European truck programme, chiefly by
making parts for Ford-Werke’s German model. Lehideux promised that
the COA would continue to offer ‘technical aid’ to Ford SAF, while
Schmidt agreed that Ford-Werke and the COA would together determine
a ‘transitional programme’ for the French company aimed at minimizing
the disruptive effects of switching production from the French to the
German truck. Lehideux and Schmidt established a tentative schedule:
Ford SAF would produce parts for 2,000 trucks during April and May
1943, a figure that would rise to 4,000 during July–September and to
6,000 during October–December. Left unexplained was the relationship

115
AN 3W/229, ‘Protocol concernant les entretiens ayant eu lieu le 26 Mars 1943 au
Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeuge, Berlin-Charlottenburg, Hardenbergstrasse’, 26
March 1943.
116
BA-MA RW 24/42, Kriegstagebuch, Beschaffungsamt, 5–8 April 1943.
188 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

between the proposed schedule and Ford SAF’s still undetermined ‘tran-
sitional programme’.117
The following day, Schmidt and Lehideux were joined by a variety of
German and French officials. Ricq, the COA’s controller with Ford SAF,
began the meeting by affirming that the company’s problems concerning
quality were well on the way to being solved. Ricq did add, however, that
he did not feel qualified to comment on Ford SAF’s ability to meet the
proposed production schedule. On the subject of quality, the participants
briefly considered the idea of stopping all production for a certain period
during which Ford SAF would convert its capacity in order to produce
parts for German trucks. Schmidt appeared favourable, mentioning a
possible stoppage of six to seven weeks which would allow the remaining
difficulties concerning quality to be resolved. Dollfus, by contrast, was
unenthusiastic about a complete stoppage, presumably because it would
be costly in terms of loss of production and because it would commit Ford
SAF irrevocably to the German model. Rather than settle the issue, the
participants moved on to consider the proposed production schedule.
Reiterating his pledge to Lehideux of the day before, Schmidt renounced
any desire for ‘operational authority’ (Eingriffsberechtigung) over Ford
SAF; but in return, he insisted that the latter commit itself formally to
the schedule. Dollfus offered assurances on this score, but no sooner had
he done so then he raised reservations in the form of unrealistic requests.
German authorities, he remarked, must provide sizeable contingents of
raw matériels six months in advance. Given the German automobile
industry’s own pressing shortages – shortages which had spurred the
Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug to turn to France in the first place – this
request had no chance of being met. Dollfus also demanded 150,000
hours of work by skilled machine toolists, without which, he maintained,
Ford SAF would not be equipped to produce parts for German trucks.
These machine toolists would have to come from other companies, which
raised the fraught question of the automobile industry’s ability and will-
ingness to contribute to the European truck programme. Meanwhile,
Lehideux expressed his own doubts about the proposed schedule for
Ford SAF, insisting that the latter could not simultaneously increase its
output and convert its productive capacity.118
Schmidt, by this point, was growing discouraged. Although he would
continue to defend Ford-Werke’s demands, Schmidt began to develop
what amounted to a parallel strategy: to absolve Ford-Werke of any blame

117
AN 3W/228, ‘Conférence Lehideux-Schmitt du 1er avril 1943’, 2 April 1943.
118
NARA T 77/1254, ‘Protokoll über die Besprechung am 2. April 1943 im Deutschen
Beschaffungsamt’, undated.
 The April 1943 agreements 189

for what he suspected would be the failure of the truck programme – or at

least of its French component. Ford SAF and the COA, he insisted at the
meeting, ‘must themselves undertake. . .full responsibility for the imple-
mentation of the [truck] programme’. No doubt aware that Dollfus and
Lehideux’s full cooperation was unlikely, Schmidt wanted to make sure
that the lines of responsibility led to the French. A few months later,
Schmidt would explain to Ford-Werke’s board of directors that he had
harboured doubts about the ‘feasibility’ of Ford SAF’s participation from
the beginning. These doubts, in turn, raised the danger that the
Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug and the Wehrmacht would blame Ford-
Werke for the disappointing results. To avoid this possibility, he assured
the board, Ford-Werke ‘has worked energetically. . .to prevent itself from
becoming the scapegoat for things over which the company has no influ-
ence’.119 The ironic result of this calculation was that Schmidt became a
proponent of Ford SAF’s independence.
But if Schmidt had effectively abandoned the goal of taking over Ford
SAF, he still hoped to extract some contribution from the latter, however
limited. As Schmidt explained to Tannen in early April 1943, the help of
Ford SAF and of the French automobile industry remained essential to
the European truck programme.120 Accordingly, on 6 April German and
French officials reconvened to initial a protocol outlining the terms of
Ford SAF’s participation in the truck programme. Schmidt showed him-
self to be remarkably accommodating on many of the more contentious
points.121 He thus agreed to allow Ford SAF to continue to make French
trucks into the indefinite future, leaving it to technicians from Ford SAF
and Ford-Werke to determine the best moment to stop this production.
Schmidt also sought to reduce tensions by limiting the number of
machines that Ford SAF would transfer to other factories: a mere 112
out of a total of some 1,800. Lehideux and Dollfus continued to resist any
loss of machines, though the latter eventually accepted the principle of a
transfer when told that the entire programme depended on it. On the
question of concentrating engine production, Schmidt reiterated his posi-
tion that a single location was indispensable to ensure adequate quality,
while Dollfus argued that this would leave Ford SAF vulnerable to Allied
air raids. Once again, Schmidt did not insist on the point, consenting to
work with Ford SAF in finding a ‘solution’ that ‘respected both

119
Ibid.; and BAL R 87/6205, ‘Protokoll über die Beiratssitzung der Ford-Werke A.-G. am
Mittwoch, dem 1. Juli 1943’, undated.
120
AN 3W/228, Schmidt to Tannen, 4 April 1943.
121
Lehideux had identified the contentious points in a letter to Tannen the previous day.
See AN 3W/228, Lehideux to Tannen, 5 April 1943.
190 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

viewpoints’. No particular foresight was needed to realize that such a

solution would prove elusive.
If Schmidt proved to be pliable, he did nevertheless insist that the COA
accept full responsibility for Ford SAF’s participation in the truck pro-
gramme. Interestingly, COA officials sought to avoid doing so, maintain-
ing that responsibility would be ‘very difficult to define’. In the end,
Lehideux simply repeated his promise to do all he could to help Ford
SAF and to ensure that its needs received the priority within the French
automobile industry. Although Lehideux’s promise fell short of what
Schmidt wanted, Schaaf, the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s chief, pre-
cluded further discussion by declaring that he was satisfied. Hitherto, he
remarked, ‘the COA’s help had been greater than one could have
expected and he was convinced that in the future [the Germans] could
count on the same support’.122 With the direct control of Ford SAF by
Ford-Werke no longer a possibility, the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug
had no choice but to rely on Lehideux and the COA to provide some
oversight.
Along with negotiating Ford SAF’s contribution to the European truck
programme, French and German officials also discussed its implications
for the French automobile industry. At a meeting on 5 April, Lehideux
circulated a four-page memorandum reflecting one overriding aim: to
avoid any immediate disruption to the industry. The memorandum
began by asserting that numerous automobile companies suffered from
a reduced, exhausted and insufficiently skilled workforce as well as from
inadequate and aging machines. For these reasons alone, French compa-
nies had to be protected from Sauckel’s labour drafts and from the seizure
of any of their machinery. No less pertinently, the memorandum argued
that the automobile industry’s precarious condition meant that individual
companies required a lengthy transitional period (and considerable finan-
cial help) to switch from French to German models. During this period,
the production of French models would continue and would only gradu-
ally be wound down.123 Lehideux’s demand had important implications.
A transition involved a period of overlapping production, yet in a context
of mounting penury it would be extremely difficult to find sufficient
supplies of matériel to make both French and German models. Choices
would have to be made, and given Germany’s urgent need for results,

122
BA-MA RW 24/42, ‘Protokoll über die Besprechung am 6. April 1943 beim C.O.A.’,
undated.
123
BA-MA RW 24/42, ‘Memorandum’, Lehideux, 3 April 1943, which is attached to
‘Sitzungsbericht vom 5. April 1943 deutsche Delegation und Leitung des COA’, 13
April 1943.
 The April 1943 agreements 191

there would be strong pressure to favour current (French) production. In

other words, the longer the transition period the less likely it was that there
would be a switch from French to German production.
The Germans sought to reassure Lehideux. Although avoiding formal
commitments, Schaaf did promise that he would do everything in his
power to prevent French workers and machines from being sent to
Germany. On the question of the transitional period, Schaaf accepted
that the conversion of production would occur ‘in phases’, but resisted
Lehideux’s claim that French companies could not even begin to make
parts for German trucks before at least nine months – that is to say, before
early to mid-1944. At a later meeting the same day, Schaaf suggested a
transitional period of three months which might be extended to six
months in exceptional circumstances. Once again, however, Schaaf did
not press the point, preferring to reiterate his confidence in the COA’s
goodwill.124
But the most revealing discussions were those over raw matériel sup-
plies. At the 5 April meeting, French and German officials considered the
allocation of raw matériel contingents to the French automobile industry
as a whole. The Germans viewed allocations as a means of reducing the
transitional period from French to German production: over the course of
1943, the amounts designated for French production would be sharply
cut, compelling companies to switch to German production. Lehideux
opposed this approach: not only did he argue for a more gradual rate of
reduction; he also pressed for an increase in the production of French
vehicles during 1943, arguing that the target (14,000 vehicles for the last
three-quarters of the year) was well below capacity and did not reflect a
rational use of the French automobile industry. Predictably perhaps,
Lehideux was largely successful, with contingents for French production
expected to decline by only one third between the first trimester of 1943
and the first trimester of 1944. More remarkable, however, is the fact that
Ford-Werke’s truck programme was not included in the figures. The
French and Germans agreed to treat the Ford programme separately for
the simple reason that the contingents did not exist. Even without the
Ford programme, a considerable gap existed between the projected needs
and supplies of the automobile industry during 1943. When Schaaf
emphasized that the Germans could not close this gap, Lehideux could
only express the hope that sufficient contingents could be found. The

124
NARA T 77/1254, ‘Protokoll über die Siztung vom 5. April 1943 zwischen der deut-
schen Delegation und der Leitung des C.O.A. in den Räumen des C.O.A.’, undated;
also see T 77/1254, ‘Bericht über eine Besprechung vom 6.4.43 zwischen der deutschen
Delegation und der Direktion des C.O.A.’, 14 April 1943.
192 A period of decision: the first half of 1943

Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s chief responded that this hope was ‘not

realizable’ (nicht erfüllbar). Lehideux and Schaaf briefly returned to the
subject of raw matériel contingents at the 8 April meeting, only to decide
to refer the matter to future talks between technical experts.125
In the spring of 1943, Ford SAF’s truck programme was more virtual
than real. The programme lacked the required raw matériels and neither
the French nor the Germans knew where to find them. The COA was fully
aware of this. An internal memorandum in early April candidly admitted
that we ‘do not believe in it’. To Schaaf, Lehideux claimed that ‘he could
not sign up to a programme that he could not fulfil’.126 But this was
untrue. One priority for Lehideux was to keep the French automobile
industry making as many French vehicles and parts as possible. For this
reason, it was necessary to feign belief in the Ford programme’s feasibility
as this would allow companies to maintain (and even increase) their
current production during the transitional period – a period that
Lehideux could reasonably hope to extend well into the future. But the
Germans were not dupes. If they played along with Lehideux’s stratagem
it was because they had little choice. Desperate for trucks, Schaaf hoped
that despite the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s weakened bargaining
position it could get something out of the French automobile industry in
general and out of Ford SAF in particular.
Writing to Lehideux in early April 1943, Dollfus profusely thanked his
‘dear friend’ for all he had done:
[I] wish to express my sincere thanks for the energy and indeed the faith with which
you defended the interests not only of Ford SAF but of the Ford Motor Company
itself in the difficult circumstances that we recently encountered. At the same time
you defended me personally and achieved full success in my case as well as in that
of Ford SAF. I am personally extremely grateful.

In his reply in mid-April, Lehideux wrote that in defending Ford SAF ‘I

was defending the interests of the French automobile industry’.127 In
addition to preserving Ford SAF’s ‘sovereignty’, he had blunted the
Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s attempt to subordinate the French auto-
mobile industry to Ford-Werke’s European truck programme. But

125
See BA-MA RW 24/42, ‘Bericht über die Besprechung vom 8.4.43 zwischen der deut-
schen Delegation und der Direktion des C.O.A.’, 8 April 1943; NARA T 77/1254,
‘Niederschrift über die Besprechung zwischen den Kontingentberarbeitern des
Hauptausschusses Kraftfahrzeuge und des C.O.A. beim C.O.A. am 12. April 1943’,
13 April 1943; and AN 3W/229, COA, ‘Service matières premières’, 5 April 1943.
126
AN 3W/229, ‘Note pour Monsieur Lehideux’, COA, 8 April 1943; and T 77/1254,
‘Bericht über eine Besprechung vom 6.4.43 zwischen der deutschen Delegation und der
Direktion des C.O.A.’.
127
AN 3W/234, Dollfus to Lehideux, 6 April 1943; and Lehideux to Dollfus, 14 April 1943.
 The April 1943 agreements 193

Lehideux was also defending his own interests. During the negotiations
with the Germans he had repeatedly insisted that the COA be viewed as
the sole representative of the French automobile industry; German offi-
cials were to deal with the COA alone and not with individual French
companies. Although Schaaf was non-committal, he did offer Lehideux
the ‘ever closer cooperation’ of the German authorities.128
All told, then, Lehideux had good reason to be pleased in the spring of
1943. Yet the COA’s chief could not rest on his laurels. Lehideux and
Dollfus had both promised their wholehearted participation in Ford-
Werke’s truck programme despite the waning appeal of industrial collab-
oration. Given German desperation, the COA and Ford SAF would come
under strong pressure to produce immediate results.

128
BA-MA RW 24/42, ‘Bericht über die Besprechung vom 8.4.43 zwischen der deutschen
Delegation und der Direktion des C.O.A.’.
5 The extent and limits of industrial
collaboration: 1943–1944

In the scholarly literature on Franco-German wartime industrial collabo-

ration, the final phase of the Occupation is dominated by the Speer–
Bichelonne agreement, signed in Berlin in September 1943.1 In return
for Bichelonne’s promise of Vichy’s wholehearted cooperation in the joint
effort to increase France’s contribution to the German war effort, Speer
consented to maintain production within the country, protecting French
workers (and machines) from being sent to Germany, principally by
designating factories as S-Betriebe (Speer factories). Presenting them-
selves as apolitical technocrats, the two men wrapped the agreement in a
vision of future European cooperation. But its core amounted to a short-
term gamble by Speer and Bichelonne born of urgency. As Germany’s
prospects of military victory rapidly faded and as its industrial inferiority
relative to its enemies became painfully evident, the call for more radical
measures coming from Fritz Sauckel among others grew louder. For
Speer, however, the experience of Sauckel’s labour drafts suggested that
radical measures were counter-productive, arousing the resistance of the
French and undermining production. Now more than ever, a more effi-
cient and thorough exploitation of France’s capacity required French
cooperation. If this logic swayed Speer, it also shaped Bichelonne’s think-
ing. For Vichy’s minister of industrial production, a renewed commit-
ment to industrial collaboration offered the best means of keeping at bay
Sauckel and the chaos his activities represented. Speer thus gambled that
more could be gotten out of France in the upcoming critical months by
persuasion than by coercion, while Bichelonne calculated that collabora-
tion would have a moderating effect on the German authorities.
If the nature of the Speer-Bichelonne agreement is fairly clear, there is
considerable disagreement regarding its results. In his landmark study of
France’s economy under German occupation, Alan Milward concluded
that the agreement had little effect on developments, partly because of

1
Milward, The New Order and the French Economy, 147–80; Margairaz, L’État, les finances et
l’économie, I, 691–714.

194
 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944 195

crippling shortages and partly because Germany’s exploitation of French

resources had already reached high levels.2 More recently, Arne Radtke-
Delacor challenged this conclusion, arguing that the agreement should be
seen as a success for the Germans, who expanded their share of French
output during 1943 and early 1944 to perhaps 45–50 per cent. Similarly,
not only did the number of German contracts rise, but so too did their
fulfilment rates (increasing by some 30 per cent), which suggests that
France was being exploited more efficiently. For Radtke-Delacor, these
figures also discredit the later claims by French industrialists that they had
engaged in deliberate under-production (freinage).3 The economic his-
torian Hein Klemann provides an interesting comparative perspective on
the competing views of Milward and Radtke-Delacor. Klemann has cal-
culated that overall French production measured in GDP (1938=100)
dropped from 80 in 1943 to 66 in 1944, a drop which distinguished
France from other occupied countries in Western and Northern Europe
whose output either increased, remained stable or declined far less
steeply. Indeed, France’s fall in GDP exceeded that of Greece, a country
for which the Occupation is generally viewed as an economic catastrophe.
Although Klemann has little to say about the Speer–Bichelonne agree-
ment itself, his figures call into question the success of efforts to increase
France’s contribution to the German war effort during 1943–4.4
Notwithstanding their differences regarding the success of the Speer–
Bichelonne agreement, the scholars mentioned all adopt a macro-
approach focusing on overall industrial production for the Germans.
But if a global picture is valuable, it is less useful for understanding how
industrial collaboration worked in practice. To answer this question, one
also needs studies of developments at the industry and company levels. In
examining Ford SAF’s contribution to Ford-Werke’s European truck
programme, this chapter offers a case study that is particularly pertinent
due to the prominent role of the French automobile industry. In many
ways, the Speer–Bichelonne agreement did not constitute a new depar-
ture so much as it did the continuation of industrial collaboration, the
terms of which had been worked out between the COA and the

2
Milward, The New Order and the French Economy, 147–80.
3
Radtke-Delacor, ‘Produire pour le Reich’, 113–15; and his ‘Verlängerte Werkbank im
Westen: Deutsche Produktionsaufträge als Trumpfkarte der industriellen Kollaboration in
Frankreich (1942–1944)’ in Stefan Martens and Maurice Vaïsse, eds., Frankreich und
Deutschland im Krieg (November 1942 – Herbst 1944): Okkupation, Kollaboration,
Résistance (Bonn, 2000), pp. 340–50.
4
Klemann and Kudryashov, Occupied Economies, 329–31. Jonas Scherner’s figures for the
value of contracts for the Wehrmacht also show a notable decline for France during
1943–4, a decline unmatched in Western and Northern Europe with the partial exception
of Belgium. See Scherner, ‘Europas Beitrag zu Hitler’s Krieg’, 19.
196 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug in the spring of 1943. Ford-Werke’s pro-

gramme did not merely prefigure the Speer–Bichelonne agreement; it was
its practical embodiment.
But this is not all. The history of Ford SAF’s participation in Ford-
Werke’s truck programme offers an opportunity to examine more closely
the issue of freinage. Following the Liberation Lehideux and Dollfus both
contended that under their guidance Ford SAF had resisted the Germans
by deliberately under-producing during 1943–4. As mentioned in the
introduction, the argument that French companies under-produced has
been gaining scholarly ground, especially but not solely for the automobile
industry. Yet the concept of ‘deliberate under-production’ has received
surprisingly little critical scrutiny. How does it work? Who are its principal
actors? How can its effects be measured? This chapter will discuss these
and other questions. In doing so, it will highlight the difficulties involved
not only in establishing deliberate intent but also in distinguishing under-
production from the other factors influencing production, most notably
those rooted in an economy characterized by a growing penury of resour-
ces. That said, the chapter argues that a circumstantial case can be made
that Ford SAF did not do all it could have to contribute to the truck
programme. In this sense, one can speak of deliberate under-production.
Just as importantly, however, this freinage did not constitute resistance
because it was largely devoid of political motives.

The Speer–Bichelonne agreement

Before examining Ford SAF’s activities programme during 1943–4, it is
worth considering more closely the Speer–Bichelonne agreement because
it highlights the limits to German authority – limits that would severely
handicap the efforts to integrate Ford SAF into Ford-Werke’s production
programme. The initiative for the Speer–Bichelonne agreement came
from Vichy, which sought to reenergize industrial collaboration in order
to protect French workers and factories from Sauckel’s labour drafts. To
help persuade the occupation authorities of France’s potential contribu-
tion to Germany’s war effort, Bichelonne in early 1943 urged French
companies to accept every German contract. The shortage of almost all
factors of production, however, made this a risky policy: additional con-
tracts would exacerbate the fierce competition for scarce resources, with
debilitating effects on overall production. A more organized approach was
therefore needed. In a series of meetings with German officials in the
summer of 1943, Bichelonne discussed the idea of integrating French
industry more thoroughly into a larger and German-led European pro-
duction programme – an expanded version of Ford-Werke’s truck
 The Speer–Bichelonne agreement 197

programme. In mid-July, he formally handed a memorandum to the MbF

which outlined a programme to increase French armaments production
by 50 per cent. In addition to exploiting state-controlled factories, Vichy
proposed to mobilize the capacity of the southern zone, which before
November 1942 had been unoccupied and thus free from Germany’s
direct control. While the memorandum spoke of the aircraft, electrical
and mechanical industries, it also held out the possibility of extending the
programme to other industries. That Bichelonne’s overriding aim was to
keep French labour in France is clearly evident from the proviso that the
programme would require an additional 215,000 workers.5 Shortly after
submitting his memorandum, Bichelonne asked for a meeting with Speer
to discuss its contents.6
It was far from certain that Speer would agree to a meeting. In an
assessment of Bichelonne’s memorandum in July 1943, Speer’s staff in
France responded with considerable scepticism. The Germans had no
illusions about Vichy’s primary motive, which was to prevent further
transfers of French workers and machines to Germany, even if they
acknowledged Bichelonne’s goodwill towards them. But for Speer’s
staff, the chief concerns involved resources and authority. The proposed
programme required ample supplies of labour, raw matériels and energy,
none of which were readily available. Even if resources might be found, it
was uncertain that they could be exploited. Speer’s staff openly ques-
tioned whether the French government possessed the authority to direct
several hundred thousand workers into armaments production. If it did
not, Vichy could be expected to pressure the German authorities to agree
to return French workers from Germany. And this pointed to a larger
danger: that the German economy would be disadvantaged without any
corresponding production gains in France. At the same time, the
Germans were too desperate for production results simply to reject the
offer. Accordingly, the assessment concluded on a cautious note, recom-
mending that Berlin seek ‘to fundamentally reduce’ Bichelonne’s pro-
gramme before accepting it.7
The pessimistic assessment by Speer’s staff was no exception.
Throughout the second half of 1943, the occupation authorities mani-
fested a good deal of scepticism regarding the prospects of increased
production from French industry. At a meeting of German armaments

5
BAL R 3/1821, Bichelonne (MPI) to Michel (MbF), 15 July 1943. Also see BA-MA RW 24/
31, ‘Aktenvermerk über die Besprechung bei Minister Bichelonne (Produktionsministerium)
am 1.7.43’, 5 July 1943.
6
AN AJ 72/1926, Bichelonne (MPI) to Stülpnagel (MbF), 26 July 1943.
7
BAL R 3/1821, Chef des Rü- und Be Fr to Michel (MbF), 30 July 1943.
198 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

officials in Paris in November there was much talk of rampant shortages

of coal and energy among other matériels. The presiding officer warned
the participants that French industry would have to live from ‘hand to
mouth’ over the coming winter. Although he hoped that ‘much could be
achieved’ through improvisation, it was taken for granted that shortages
would greatly hamper production.8 Improvisation, in any case, depended
on French goodwill, which appeared to be far from assured. In
September, the armaments team for Paris-East reported on the ‘strong
reservations of [French] factory directors’ towards working for the
Germans. ‘More than before’, the report added, ‘were formal objections
as well as hesitation advanced when it came to accepting new [German]
contracts’. The armaments team attributed the attitude of factory direc-
tors to a combination of Allied propaganda and the vanishing belief in a
German victory. The following month, the armaments team for Paris
centre remarked that French industrialists increasingly feared for their
personal security if they worked for the Germans; several of them
had received miniature coffins from the resistance with their names
inscribed on them. More generally, the team discerned a growing unwill-
ingness among French industrialists to cooperate with the Germans that
manifested itself in a return of ‘individualist attitudes’. Faced with the
‘difficulties associated with a planned economy’, the ‘Fr[ench] industri-
alist. . .allows himself all too quickly to become discouraged and to grad-
ually abandon the initiative’.9 By the second half of 1943, it seemed,
neither Vichy authorities nor French industrialists could be relied upon
to work effectively for the Germans.
Notwithstanding the scepticism of German officials in France, Speer
had no choice but to invite Bichelonne to Berlin for a series of meetings in
mid-September 1943.10 At the first meeting, Speer indicated that the
German government was prepared to accept Bichelonne’s plan subject
to several conditions. Speer wanted the French to concentrate on con-
sumer goods and some military equipment, thereby freeing capacity in
Germany for armaments production. Reflecting the scepticism of his own
officials, Speer also insisted on ‘a guarantee’ that French industries would

8
BA-MA RW 24/32, Rü und Be Stabes, ‘Protokoll über die Sitzung mit den
Rüstungskommandeuren und Aussenstellenleitern, ab 18.15 Uhr auch mit den
Länderbeauftragten, am 1. November 1943 im Kinosaal des Hotel Astorias’, Paris, 9
November 1943.
9
BA-MA RW 24/93, Rü Kdo Paris Ost, ‘Kriegstagebuch für die Zeit vom 1.7. –
30.9.1943’, 30 September 1943; and ‘Lagebericht für Monat September 1943’; and
RW 24/102, Rü Kdo Paris-Mitte, ‘Lagebericht’, 18 October 1943.
10
AN AJ 72/1926, German embassy to Bichelonne, 9 September 1943, containing Speer to
Bichelonne, 9 September 1943.
 The Speer–Bichelonne agreement 199

fulfil their production programmes under the prescribed terms and time
limits. Although Bichelonne welcomed the prospect of a wave of German
contracts, he resisted the idea of a ‘general guarantee’, maintaining that
the issue ‘should be treated case by case for each contract [and] for each
production good’. Speer accepted Bichelonne’s argument without pro-
test, implicitly reconfirming the reality – already well established for the
automobile industry – that the terms of industrial collaboration would be
determined at the industry and factory levels. In return for what his own
staff viewed as a doubtful promise of French cooperation, Speer offered to
protect the workforce of all factories working for the Germans against
Sauckel’s labour drafts.
Interestingly, both sides acknowledged that the Comités d’organisation
constituted a vital element in the overall plan. By 1943, the German
authorities viewed the COs with considerable distrust, convinced that
for many of them the priority was on maintaining the business activities
of all their member companies rather than increasing output for the
Germans. Yet the Germans also realized that they could not bypass the
COs, since the latter were often the best placed to know how individual
industries and sub-industries operated in practice. For Bichelonne,
the COs offered a means to retain some say in industrial collaboration as
the MPI lacked the authority and resources to oversee production in the
different industries. As a result, there was simply no getting around
the COs. Problems at the local level, Bichelonne remarked to Speer,
‘will be resolved by each Comité d’organisation’.11
In subsequent meetings with German officials (but not Speer),
Bichelonne discussed a variety of subjects: the goods that French industry
would make; supplies of raw matériels; labour needs; and the designation
of S-Betriebe. As so often, the two sides preferred to avoid details, skating
over rather than tackling critical issues. In a revealing comment, one
German official assured Bichelonne that a ‘total confidence’ between
the French and Germans would overcome any difficulties.12 Not surpris-
ingly, considerable confusion existed concerning the basic terms of the
agreement. On the question of raw matériel supplies, the French delega-
tion left Berlin with the impression that the Germans would make good

11
AN AJ 72/1926, ‘Procès-verbal de la conférence tenue à Berlin le vendredi 17 septembre
1943 dans le bureau de Monsieur le Ministre Speer’, undated; and ‘Compte-rendu
sommaire des entretiens de Berlin entre M. Bichelonne et M. le Ministre Speer’,
20 September 1943.
12
Ibid., ‘Procès-verbal de la conférence tenue le vendredi 17 septembre en fin de matinée,
dans le bureau de M. le Staatsrat Schieber’, 24 September 1943; and ‘Procès-verbal de la
conférence tenue à Berlin (Wannsee) le vendredi 17 septembre après-midi’,
27 September 1943.
200 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

most shortages, while the Germans continued to hope that sizeable quan-
tities could be squeezed out of France.
Overall, then, the Speer–Bichelonne agreement contained little that
was new. To be sure, the agreement did help to rein in Sauckel and thus
protect French workers. Thanks to an expansive definition, the number of
factories designated as S-Betriebe rose quickly from 3,301 (employing
720,000 workers) in December 1943 to some 13,000 (employing 1.4
million workers) in March 1944. Much to Sauckel’s fury, moreover,
more than a few of these factories contributed little if anything to the
German war effort.13 Yet in terms of the workings of industrial collabo-
ration, the Speer–Bichelonne agreement largely confirmed existing
trends. One trend was the decentralization of authority: the agreement
provided a framework whose detailed contents would be worked out at the
industry and company levels. Another and related trend was the depend-
ence of the Germans on the French. Speer himself highlighted this point
in his emphasis on goodwill and cooperation. As he expounded to
Bichelonne:
We are aware of the difficulties and [that] optimism is needed to overcome them.
We can implement the programme and achieve success. I believe that one should
not go too much into the details but instead should get to work. What is decisive is
the will! We don’t want overly precise written commitments. We want to see
through working where the difficulties lie. . .Difficulties can be overcome through
effective cooperation. We have the desire for this cooperation and when it is
realized [then] France will make a fundamental contribution [to the common
effort] and we will be grateful when this has occurred. . .I want you to promise that
you will carry out your tasks [and I don’t need] detailed written commitments.14
Speer’s comments certainly echoed Nazi ideology: determination and
sense of purpose would triumph over matériel realities. But they also
reflected the reality of German dependence on French willingness to
cooperate. If this reality had always existed, it was arguably truer in
1943–4 than before. With the balance of economic/industrial power shift-
ing massively in favour of its enemies and with its armies retreating on
almost all fronts, Germany desperately needed French industry to do

13
Radtke-Delacor, ‘Verlängerte Werkback im Westen’, 342–3. For the definition, see AN F
12/9963, ministre du travail (secrétaire-général à la main-d’oeuvre) to directeurs régionaux
de la main-d’oeuvre, ‘Classements des usines comme Entreprises “S”’, no. 1.152,
4 February 1944. For Sauckel’s frustration, see Bernd Zielinski, ‘L’exploitation de la
main-d’oeuvre française par l’Allemagne et la politique de collaboration (1940–1944)’ in
B. Garnier and J. Quellien, eds., La main-d’oeuvre française exploitée par le IIIe Reich (Caen,
2003), 62–5.
14
BAL R 3/1821, ‘Notiz über die Schlussbesprechungen anlässlich des Besuches von
Minister Bichelonne bei Minister Speer am 17.9’, 20 September 1943.
 An uncertain start, April–July 1943 201

more. At the same time, as Speer’s talk of ‘difficulties’ indicates, an

economy of growing scarcity and poverty posed immense challenges –
challenges that the Germans by themselves could not meet. To prevent
production from grinding to a halt required the cooperation of French
industrialists and workers who alone possessed the local expertise and
knowledge.15

The Ford truck programme: an uncertain start,

April–July 1943
As the previous chapter showed, the round of meetings in the spring of
1943 between French and German officials produced a tentative accord.
With strong backing from Lehideux and the COA, Ford SAF managed to
remain independent of Ford-Werke in return for its promise to cooperate
wholeheartedly in the European truck programme. The programme
called on Ford SAF to deliver 6,000 engines (plus various parts) per
month by the end of 1943, with output rising from 2,000 in the second
quarter of the year, to 4,000 in the third quarter and to 6,000 in the last
quarter.16 To be sure, several participants harboured doubts about the
programme’s feasibility, which is understandable given that important
questions remained unanswered. Where were the considerable quantities
of raw matériels and labour to be found? How could the production
targets for 1943 be reconciled with the idea that Ford SAF needed a
transitional period of several months to shift from making French trucks
to German trucks? Yet, however vague it might be, the accord reached
between French and German officials did mean that work on the truck
programme could begin in earnest.
Much of the initiative now lay on the French side. Neither the COA nor
Ford SAF, however, appeared particularly committed to the truck pro-
gramme. In early April 1943, an internal COA memorandum openly
expressed its disbelief that the German authorities would succeed in
according the Ford programme priority; and without this priority, the
likelihood of receiving adequate supplies of matériel and manpower was
practically nil. Revealingly, the memorandum went on to outline a truck
production programme for the French automobile industry as a whole for
1943 which excluded Ford. Although admitting that a ‘measure of
prudence’ was necessary regarding the Ford programme, the message

15
On the importance of local expertise in production, see Charles F. Sabel, Work and
Politics: The Division of Labour in Industry (Cambridge, 1982).
16
NARA T 77/1254, ‘Protokoll über die Besprechung am 2. April 1943 im Deutschen
Beschaffungsamt’, undated.
202 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

was clear: Ford SAF would produce little if anything for the remainder of
the year.17 Not surprisingly, COA officials were more circumspect in their
dealings with the Germans. In May, L’Epine, one of the COA’s experts
assigned to Ford SAF, expressed to Ford-Werke’s representative his
reservations about the production schedule. Considerable delays would
be needed before the company could meet its targets. But in private, COA
officials were far more outspoken. Thus, at the beginning of July a COA
document dismissed the Ford truck programme as ‘a considerable waste
of time’. Recent experience, it continued, indicated that any potential
results would be completely disproportionate to the effort required.18
To some extent, the COA’s bleak assessment was well founded. In the
current economic situation the question of priority was absolutely crucial.
Without a privileged access to scarce supplies, the programme was illu-
sory. Initially, things looked promising. In May 1943, the Hauptausschuss
Kraftfahrzeug requested that the needs of the Ford programme have first
call on the resources of the French automobile industry, which encom-
passed both the major automobile companies and their various suppliers.
In reply, Speer’s armaments staff in France assured the committee that it
would pursue the programme ‘with all its energy and [that it] would also
do everything imaginable in support’. The various armaments teams were
accordingly instructed to do all they could to help Ford SAF.19 Yet, in
reality, the situation was more confused. Only two days after its positive
reply to the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug, armaments officials in France
demoted the Ford programme to second on the priority list, behind
Wehrmacht orders for replacement parts.20 A more general problem
was that the priority applied solely to the automobile industry. The
frontiers between industries and sub-industries were often porous, espe-
cially in the case of suppliers, many of whom worked for companies in
more than one industry. In this context, Ford SAF’s priority risked losing
much of its value if it could not be extended beyond the automobile
industry. As one armaments team caustically observed in May 1943, the
Ford truck programme was strangely silent on the critical issue of suppli-
ers and sub-suppliers.21

17
AN 3W/229, ‘Note pour Monsieur Lehideux’, 8 April 1943.
18
AN 3W/228, ‘Memento pour Monsieur Lehideux’, 1 July 1943; and 3W/227, L’Epine to
Tannen, 5 May 1943.
19
BA-MA RW 24/30, ‘Kriegstagbuch des Rü Stabes Frankreich für die Zeit vom 1.5. bis
30.6.43’, 24–30 May 1943. For the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug, see AN 3W/227,
unsigned note from Rü Stab Frankreich, 12 May 1943; and 3W/228, Rüstungs- und
Beschaffungsstab Frankreich, circular, 25 May 1943.
20
AN 3W/228, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstab Frankreich, circular, 27 May 1943.
21
NARA T 77/1264, Kriegstagebuch, Rü Kdo, Paris-West, 24–30 May 1943.
 An uncertain start, April–July 1943 203

But perhaps an even greater problem was that Speer’s armaments staff
never managed to gain complete control of the process of placing German
contracts with French companies. Imposing central control over the indus-
trial exploitation of France had been a major aim of Speer’s reorganization
of the German economic administration in 1942 and again in 1943. Yet
these efforts enjoyed only partial success. During 1943–4 German agencies
(army, navy, air force, Organisation Todt) and companies would continue
to place orders with French companies, ignoring the strictures to operate
through Speer’s staff. Each contract was deemed as urgent as the next, with
the inevitable result being that scarce resources were diverted away from the
Ford programme. In June 1943, for example, the COA learnt that the
French automobile company Sauer had recently accepted a contract from
military authorities in Vienna, notwithstanding the understanding that its
capacity would be put at Ford SAF’s disposal. Similarly, the automobile
company Berliet informed the COA the same month that it had nothing to
offer Ford SAF, having recently received a German order for 2,500 trac-
tors.22 Ironically, the Speer–Bichelonne agreement likely exacerbated this
problem by encouraging an increase of German contracts with French
companies. Yet, even before the autumn of 1943, the COA realized that
Ford SAF’s priority was more notional than real.
The responsibility for ensuring that the Ford programme received
priority, however, did not belong to the German authorities alone. At
the meetings in April 1943, Lehideux had promised that the COA would
do all in its power to privilege Ford SAF’s needs. There is evidence that
the COA made some effort to prod French automobile companies to
contribute to Ford-Werke’s truck programme. Responding to the
COA’s request for information, Ford SAF in April 1943 drew up a list
of monthly output that it needed from the automobile industry as a whole,
which included 2,000 gear-boxes, 2,000 rear axles, 1,500 parts of various
sorts and 1,000 transmissions.23 Armed with this list, the COA
approached various companies, indicating to Renault, for example, that
it attached considerable importance to the Ford programme. In the case of
Citroën, Lehideux directly instructed the company to make gear-boxes,
setting a target of 4,000 for the third quarter of 1943. Interestingly, the
COA simply attached this task to Citroën’s existing production pro-
gramme, providing no indication of where the additional machines and

22
See AN 3W/227, ‘Fernschreiben an Herrn Obersleutnant Kentler’, Tannen, 22 June
1943; and 3W/228, Berliet to COA, 11 June 1943. For the COA, see AN 3W/229, ‘La
répartition des commandes allemandes et le problème de la concentration industrielle’,
undated but 1943.
23
AN 3W/228, Ford SAF to COA, 29 April 1943.
204 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

raw matériels were to come from. Not surprisingly, Citroën would soon
report delays in meeting its assigned schedule.24 Another sign of
Lehideux’s efforts to mobilize the French automobile industry behind
the Ford programme was his appointment of Dollfus to head the COA’s
advisory committee made up of leading company directors. If the appoint-
ment testified to Ford SAF’s prominent place within the industry, it also
amounted to a statement of support for the company.25
The most noteworthy element of the COA’s efforts on behalf of Ford
SAF, however, was their limited nature. With rare exceptions, the COA
did not insist when automobile companies refused to help Ford SAF,
readily accepting the claim that they had nothing to offer. The COA would
continue to solicit automobile companies during much of 1943, but its
requests appear to have been largely pro forma, aimed not at producing
results but at confirming the futility of the endeavour. COA officials
certainly wasted little time in informing the Germans of the fruitlessness
of their efforts. Just as significantly, the COA sought to shift the blame for
its lack of success, insisting that it was up to the occupation officials to take
the measures needed to make Ford SAF’s priority a reality. At the same
time, COA officials never once asked German authorities to cooperate in
applying pressure on French automobile companies. Admittedly, such a
request would have contradicted one of the Lehideux principles, namely
that the COA alone should be responsible for the French automobile
industry. Yet enforcing Ford SAF’s priority also presented a potential
opportunity for Lehideux to consolidate his authority over the automobile
industry during a critical period when the COA’s influence was being
challenged. That Lehideux made almost no attempt to exploit this oppor-
tunity is telling. Whatever the reality might have been for the Germans, for
Lehideux at least ensuring the success of the Ford programme was clearly
not a priority.
The COA’s perfunctory approach to Ford-Werke’s truck programme
was also evident in its attitude towards Ford SAF’s requests for resources.
During the spring of 1943, German and French officials as well as repre-
sentatives of Ford-Werke and Ford SAF met several times to discuss the
latter’s requirements for manpower, matériels and machines. Ford SAF
consistently presented imposing demands: in mid-May, the company
insisted that it needed 1,900 additional workers (among them 1,600

24
For gear-boxes, see AN 3W/234, L’Epine to Lehideux, 5 May 1943; and 3W/228,
Lehideux to Citroën, 10 May 1943; for delays, see 3W/228, Citroën to Ford SAF, 13
July 1943; and Ford SAF to Citroën, 10 February 1944. For Renault, see AN 3W/228,
Norroy (COA) to Renault, 27 May 1943.
25
Loubet and Hatzfeld, Les 7 vies de Poissy, 43.
 An uncertain start, April–July 1943 205

skilled workers) to start up production, a figure that amounted to almost

three-quarters of its current workforce and one the Germans deemed to
be completely unrealistic in the present situation. The COA predictably
endorsed Ford SAF’s demands.26
An even more striking example concerns machine tool hours. To convert
Ford SAF’s factories from making French trucks to making German trucks
(and truck parts) required a certain amount of retooling of existing
machines, not to mention the acquisition of new ones. Retooling machines,
however, demanded machine toolists, who were a skilled category in very
short supply. Before long, Ford SAF and Ford-Werke were bickering about
how many machine toolists and machine tool hours were needed. Whereas
the Germans maintained that 100,000–150,000 hours would be sufficient,
Ford SAF estimated its needs at 300,000–350,000 hours, which was
enough to keep 400 machine toolists busy working nine hours a day for
four months. Challenged by the German authorities, Dollfus admitted that
his estimate was ‘notably too high’.27 Yet this admission in no way deterred
Lehideux from fully backing Ford SAF’s initial demand. In doing so,
Lehideux pursued his strategy of shifting responsibility for the Ford pro-
gramme’s failure to the Germans. Meanwhile, the greater the number of
machine tool hours needed the more dependent became the programme on
the French automobile industry. Since Ford SAF itself had only about sixty
machine toolists available, it would have to look elsewhere if the conversion
process had any chance of being completed. Earlier, in April 1943,
Lehideux had assured Schmidt that the COA could get at least 120,000
hours from other automobile companies by temporarily transferring
machine toolists to Ford SAF. But the COA did little to fulfil this promise,
and as early as May 1943 Lehideux told Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug
officials that the French automobile industry could provide almost nothing.
Instead, in typical fashion he insisted that the Germans must find machine
toolists for Ford SAF.28
Ford SAF appeared to be no more committed to the truck programme
than the COA. From the beginning, Dollfus viewed the entire subject as
one more attempt by Ford-Werke to take over his company. The tentative
accord arrived at in April 1943 to maintain Ford SAF’s independence
assuaged but did not eliminate his suspicions. Fending off any attempt by

26
BA-MA RW 24/108, Rü Kdo Paris-West, Kriegstagebuch, 12 and 21 May 1943. For
meetings, see AN 3W/227, ‘Note relative à une conférence du 30 avril 1943’; and ibid.,
‘Visite à Paris-Seine du 24 juin 1943’.
27
AN 3W/228, Dollfus to Kentler, 17 May 1943. Soon, Ford SAF would increase its
estimate to 700,000 hours. See AN 3W/229, ‘Copie de la note addressée par
M. Schnellbächer à M. Behr’, 4 August 1943.
28
AN 3W/234, Lehideux to Kentler, 17 May 1943.
206 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

Ford-Werke to interfere in Ford SAF’s activities thus remained a prom-

inent goal.29 To be sure, Ford SAF had promised to cooperate fully in the
truck programme; but it was determined to cooperate on its own terms.
For Dollfus, this meant securing the best financial conditions possible.
Once again, it is worth emphasizing that Dollfus was not opposed in
principle to producing for the Germans. In May 1943, for example, he
pleaded with the COA to be allowed to sell French trucks to the German
authorities rather than to French customers because the former paid
more.30 In any case, Ford-Werke’s truck programme proved to be a
financial boon for the company. Although the programme entailed con-
siderable expenses, Ford SAF received a 30 per cent advance from the
Germans, which amounted to 175 million FF; with backing from Major
Tannen, its enemy assets administrator, the company was soon pressing
the occupation authorities to increase the advance to 50 per cent. If the
success of this pressure is unknown, German officials did offer to reim-
burse Ford SAF for all expenses involved in converting its production
capacity. Similarly, Ford-Werke agreed to guarantee the company against
any losses it might incur. Dollfus also managed to negotiate a substantial
rise in the price of parts shipped to the Ford companies in Belgium and
Holland, favourably resolving a long-standing issue of dispute with Ford-
Werke.31 The French government, meanwhile, also provided financing.
Consistent with Vichy’s general policy of encouraging French companies
to accept as many German contracts as possible, Bichelonne in May
instructed Ford SAF to contribute to the truck programme, offering in
return significant aid. Soon afterwards, Ford SAF received a credit of 60
million FF, which Dollfus viewed as a first instalment.32
Flushed with cash, Ford SAF was under considerably less pressure to
throw itself wholeheartedly into the truck programme. Indeed, with its
potential losses covered, the company could afford to procrastinate. In
addition to financial factors, the desire to avoid centralizing production
provided another incentive to adopt a leisurely pace. To recall, during the
meetings in April 1943, Schmidt had repeatedly insisted on the impor-
tance of concentrating engine production in one factory in order to ensure
sufficient quality and quantity. Dollfus had resisted this demand, citing

29
AP, Ford SAF, DOS 2008 RE-30422, Ford SAF, ‘Rapport sur la vie de Ford S.A.F.
pendant la guerre (1er Septembre 1939–1er Novembre 1944)’.
30
AN 3W/227, Dollfus to COA, 21 May 1943.
31
BFRC, ACC 606, Box 2, ‘Ford S.A.F. Board Meeting Held on 2nd June 1943’,
undated.
32
AN 3W/228, ‘Memento’, 21 May 1943. For Bichelonne, see ibid., Ford SAF to
Secrétariat d’état à la production industrielle’, 23 April 1943; and Bichelonne’s response,
5 May 1943.
 An uncertain start, April–July 1943 207

the menace of air bombardment if production was centred in one site. The
bombing of Ford SAF’s Bordeaux plant in May 1943, despite causing
minimal damage, only heightened his awareness of the dangers
involved.33 If the Poissy plant was subject to renewed Allied air raids,
Ford SAF risked emerging from the war without its chief productive
facilities. Thus, while Dollfus continued quietly to repair the Poissy
plant, he insisted that it would be the height of folly to concentrate engine
production there. Tellingly, he counselled Tannen in May 1943, it was
wiser to disperse production among several factories even if this meant
that output was ‘a bit reduced’.34
Dollfus had little trouble in resisting the pressure from Ford-Werke to
concentrate engine production at Poissy. After all, it was the occupation
authorities who had ordered Ford SAF to disperse its capacity following
the March–April 1942 air raids. German officials, however, were inter-
ested in finding another site for making engines. In May 1943, Lehideux
told Dollfus that finding an appropriate location in the Paris region would
be extremely difficult and would result in additional delays getting the
truck programme underway.35 Yet, as Lehideux almost certainly realized,
it was precisely these reasons that made the project attractive to Dollfus.
Accordingly, rather than opposing the Germans head on, Ford SAF made
a show of working with them in the search for a new site. The upshot was a
lengthy series of consultations and meetings regarding various possibil-
ities, all of which consumed considerable time without leading to any
concrete results. Indeed, as late as January 1944, German armaments
officials were considering confiscating a location at La Courneuve, on the
outskirts of Paris.36 In the meantime, the Germans had no choice but to
allow Ford SAF to continue to disperse its productive capacity among
several factories. Afterwards, Dollfus claimed that decentralization had
spared Ford SAF from further Allied air raids.37 Whether this factor

33
For the Bordeaux bombing, see the list attached to NARA T 77/1253, ‘Niederschrift über
die Sitzung des Wiederaufbauausschusses beim Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstab
Frankreich am 8.6.1944’, 8 June 1944. By 1943, Ford SAF’s Bordeaux operation was
of minor importance. See NARA T 77/1263, Rü Kdo Bordeaux, ‘Vorblatt zum
Kriegstagebuch vom 1.1.1943–31.3.1943’, 23 March 1943.
34
AN 3W/234, Dollfus to Tannen, 18 May 1943. For ongoing efforts to repair Poissy, see
the file in ADY 222W/926 and especially Commissariat à la Reconstruction to Ford SAF,
30 September 1943.
35
AN 3W/234, Lehideux to Dollfus, 25 May 1943.
36
BA-MA RW 24/108, Rü Kdo Paris-West, Kriegstagebuch, 21–30 June 1943; and RW
24/31, Rüstung- und Beschaffungsstabes Frankreich, ‘Beitrag zum Wochenbericht der
Gruppe 1’, 5 July 1943. For La Courneuve, see NARA T 77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris-West,
Kriegstagebuch, 24–5 January 1943.
37
BFRC, ACC 606, Box 2, ‘Report of the Board of Directors on the Trade Year 1943’, Ford
SAF, 5 April 1945.
208 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

influenced the Allies in their selection of bombing targets is unclear. But

what is clear is that the dispersal of Ford SAF’s production offered a
convenient excuse for prolonged delays and disappointing results.
If neither the COA nor Ford SAF could be said to be enthusiastic about
Ford-Werke’s truck programme, this attitude was not rooted in any
political commitment to resisting the occupiers. Rather, neither perceived
wholehearted cooperation to be in its immediate interests. By 1943,
Lehideux and Dollfus sought to avoid major disruptions to the French
automobile industry and to Ford SAF – disruptions that a vigorous pur-
suit of the truck programme risked bringing about. That said, Lehideux
and Dollfus could not openly oppose the Germans as this would likely
provoke retaliatory measures ranging from the arrest of individuals to the
despatch of workers and machines to Germany. And so the two allies and
friends adopted a two-pronged strategy. One prong consisted of trying to
reduce German expectations concerning the scope of the truck pro-
gramme; the lower the expectations, the less would be the disappointment
with the results. Dollfus, for example, repeatedly suggested to Tannen
that production targets would have to be cut and the schedule pro-
longed.38 The second and related prong was to procrastinate, exploiting
the very real difficulties as an excuse for doing little if anything.
Not surprisingly, the Germans quickly grew frustrated with the COA and
Ford SAF’s tactics. As early as June 1943, the armaments team in regular
and direct contact with Ford SAF strongly recommended that the company
be placed under German direction if any progress with Ford-Werke’s
programme were to be achieved.39 If the seeming inability to start the
programme provoked irritation, so too did Ford SAF’s output levels. In
June 1943, the company was notably behind on its production schedule for
French trucks, having delivered to the Germans only a little over half of the
1,314 it had been contracted to provide.40 By then, the Hauptausschuss
Kraftfahrzeug had decided to take matters into its own hands: at the end of
May, it appointed Carl Wiskott, a long-time manager at Opel (GM), as a
special delegate charged with energizing the truck programme. Wasting no
time, Wiskott immediately and peremptorily informed Lehideux of his
intention to bypass the COA and to deal directly with Ford SAF in order
to speed things up. Indeed, the same day Wiskott sent a letter to Ford SAF
containing twenty-nine questions covering a wide range of subjects,

38
For example, see AN 3W/234, Dollfus to Tannen, 18 May 1943.
39
BA-MA RW 24/108, Rü Kdo Paris-West, 16 June 1943.
40
AN 3W/228, ‘Memorandum’, Ford SAF, 21 June 1943; 3W/234, ‘Année 1943.
Livraisons faîtes aux autorités occupantes’, COA, 7 March 1944; and BA-MA RW 24/
108, Rü Kdo Paris-West, 8 June 1943.
 An uncertain start, April–July 1943 209

including the make-up of its workforce, the number and types of its
machines, its various suppliers and its most pressing requirements.
Wiskott demanded not only a rapid response to his questionnaire but also
that it contain precise figures. He was uninterested, he tersely remarked, ‘in
information of a general nature or in fantastical numbers’. Following a
personal visit to Dollfus’ offices in Poissy two days later to prod Ford
SAF into action, Wiskott waited another week before complaining that he
had not yet received answers to his questions. Evidently, the
Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s delegate was determined to impose a
new pace on developments.41
Predictably, Lehideux responded with unconcealed anger at Wiskott’s
activities. In a lengthy letter to Schaaf on 1 June, he expressed surprise that
Wiskott had sent a questionnaire without consulting him in advance.
Lehideux contended that this violated the April 1943 protocol which
stipulated that Ford-Werke and Ford SAF would cooperate with one
another ‘en bonne harmonie’ under the joint control of the COA and the
Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug. Maintaining that the COA had made every
effort to advance the Ford programme, including assigning its own tech-
nicians to Ford SAF, Lehideux denounced Wiskott’s appointment as
‘incomprehensible and anti-business’. Wiskott, he explained, was com-
pletely ignorant of conditions in the French automobile industry and his
meddling meant restarting the programme from ‘zero’, which would result
in a further delay of several months. Lehideux characteristically framed
the stakes in terms of the future of industrial collaboration. Proclaiming
his continued commitment to close cooperation with the Germans as well
as his own ‘appetite for responsibility’, Lehideux asserted that ‘no reor-
ganization can succeed if it is not assured of a continuity of effort and
direction’. Concluding on a threatening note, Lehideux told Schaaf
that the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug must decide if it wanted him to
continue on the path of Franco-German collaboration.42
Lehideux’s rebuke had no effect on Wiskott who continued his efforts
to jump-start Ford-Werke’s truck programme. In June 1943, he visited
Ford SAF’s various factories, drawing up a lengthy list of complaints that
left few actors untouched. Wiskott charged Ford SAF with gross incom-
petence in almost all areas of production, including the rational use of
machines and labour, relations with its sub-suppliers and quality control.

41
For Wiskott’s appointment, see BA-MA RW 24/30, Rü Stabes Frankreich,
Kriegstagebuch, 28 May 1943. For the questionnaire, see AN 3W/227, Wiskott to
Lehideux, 29 May 1943; 3W/228, Wiskott to Ford SAF, 29 May 1943; and 3W/228,
Wiskott to Ford SAF, 6 June 1943.
42
AN 3W/228, Lehideux to Schaaf, 1 June 1943.
210 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

Meanwhile, he deplored what he described as the torpor and technical

ignorance of German officials assigned to Ford SAF, Tannen included.
Even Ford-Werke came in for criticism. Wiskott accused Schmidt of
condoning the chaos supposedly reigning at Ford SAF in order to force
the occupation authorities to get rid of Dollfus, thereby allowing Ford-
Werke’s director to ‘become the dictator and thus the king of Ford in
Europe’. If the present state of affairs persisted, he reported the same
month, the truck programme would be ‘unrealizable’.43
Wiskott’s report arrived at a moment when the German authorities in
both Paris and Berlin were reassessing the wisdom of placing confidence
in the COA and Ford SAF. Mention has already been made of the arma-
ments team’s recommendation to place the company directly under
German control. Perhaps more revealing is the fact that hard questions
were being asked about Lehideux. In June 1943, the German embassy in
Paris felt it necessary to defend the latter’s continued commitment to
collaboration. To buttress its case, the embassy not only pointed to
Thoenissen’s warm endorsement of Lehideux, but also maintained that
the COA’s chief was too closely identified with collaboration to change
course. Since the beginning of the Occupation, the embassy argued,
Lehideux ‘had made many concessions to Germany, making his conver-
sion to opposition (Dissidenz) appear to be effectively impossible’.44 That
the German embassy could only conceive of Lehideux’s position in
dichotomous terms (either collaboration or opposition) is noteworthy; it
left no room for another and more ambiguous possibility lying somewhere
between ‘limited cooperation’ and ‘limited non-cooperation’ – a possibil-
ity that arguably better captured both the COA and Ford SAF’s response
to the European truck programme. But for now, the more important point
is that some Germans at least had begun to question Lehideux’s commit-
ment to industrial collaboration and, by extension, to the truck
programme.

Taking stock: the July 1943 meetings

Wiskott’s damning report, coming at a time of growing doubts about
Lehideux’s and Ford SAF’s participation in Ford-Werke’s truck pro-
gramme, prompted Schaaf to hold a round of meetings with key French

43
Leβmann, ‘Ford Paris im Zugriff von Ford Köln 1943’, 227–9. Leβmann’s valuable
article is partly based on the wartime records of the Verband der deutschen
Automobilindustrie (VDA). Unfortunately, these records appear to have been lost during
the VDA’s move from Frankfurt to Berlin following Germany’s reunification.
44
AN 3W/220, Paris embassy to AA (Berlin), 26 June 1943.
 Taking stock: the July 1943 meetings 211

and German actors in Paris in early July 1943. Optimism concerning the
programme’s immediate prospects was in short supply among several of
the participants. Speaking to Ford-Werke’s board of directors at the
beginning of the month, Schmidt reported that the integration of the
different European companies into the German war economy was ‘devel-
oping satisfactorily’, praising in particular Ford Holland (Amsterdam)
and Belgium (Antwerp and Luttich). With Ford SAF, by contrast, pro-
gress did not ‘correspond to expectations’, a situation he attributed to
several factors including shortages of labour as well as competing prior-
ities among the occupation officials. Schmidt warned that Ford-Werke
would be blamed for the ‘difficulties of the [truck] programme’ by the
Wehrmacht and the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug. Ford-Werke,
accordingly, must take steps to ensure that it did not become a ‘scapegoat’
for failure. For Schmidt, this meant demonstrating that the company was
doing all it could to make the programme work and that the problems
stemmed from others – on both the German and French sides. Yet, if
Schmidt broached the possibility of failure, he did not abandon the
possibility that Ford SAF might be prodded into making some contribu-
tion. As he concluded:
[Ford-Werke] has in any case made it clear that there is no point in discussing the
question of responsibility but rather that it is more important to establish what
needs to be done in order to change the situation and to limit the deficit of
production to a minimum. Ford-Werke is determined now to work in this sense
with the competent authorities.45
The COA also reviewed its position in light of the meetings organized by
Schaaf. In an internal memorandum, COA officials identified three prob-
lems afflicting the truck programme: the shortage of machine toolists; the
absence of clear priorities; and lingering questions regarding the quality of
Ford SAF’s output. The memorandum left no doubt that the COA
intended to maintain its strategy of underscoring the extent of its own
efforts as well as those of Ford SAF while blaming Ford-Werke and the
German authorities for most of the problems. Only on the issue of quality
did it appear to be flexible. Ford SAF, the memorandum admitted, must
show greater ‘will’ on this score, even if it added that Ford-Werke’s
standards were unrealistically high. Significantly, COA officials argued
that the truck programme should be maintained, but only in considerably
reduced form. Rather than aiming at 2,000 engines/month, the memo-
randum recommended an initial target of 1,000/month, rising eventually

45
BAL R 87/6205, ‘Protokoll über die Beiratssitzung der Ford-Werke AG am Mittwoch,
dem 1. Juli 1943 um 11 Uhr’, undated.
212 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

to perhaps 1,200/month. Lehideux was thus advised to seek what

amounted to a 50 per cent reduction of Ford SAF’s contribution to the
truck programme.46
The first encounter between French and German officials occurred
at the COA’s premises on 2 July. Opening the proceedings, Wiskott
chastised Ford SAF for its inadequate efforts in all spheres of activity,
though he surprisingly exempted Ricq (the COA’s technician appointed
to the company) from criticism. Getting down to specifics, he rejected
Ford SAF’s estimate for machine tool hours as grossly inflated – a rejection
reinforced by the recent jump in the figure from 300,000–350,000 to
720,000. Schaaf supported Wiskott on this point, citing the experience of
the German automobile industry which suggested that far fewer hours
were required to convert production. Interestingly, Lehideux traded his
typically amenable demeanour for a less cooperative stance. When asked
what French automobile companies could provide in terms of machine
toolists and machine tool hours, he replied that he had no idea of the
industry’s capacity, which amounted to a startling admission of ignorance.
Similarly, Lehideux offered little help on the issue of transferring workers
to Ford SAF, arguing that no additional labour could be found in France
and that the Germans should consider returning French workers sent to
Germany. Reflecting the advice of his advisors, Lehideux ended the meet-
ing with the suggestion that the truck programme be scaled back, aiming at
a maximum output of 1,200 engines/month by the end of the year.47
Not surprisingly, the meeting the following day opened with a lengthy
exchange regarding the truck programme’s feasibility. Alfons Streit, rep-
resenting Ford-Werke, insisted that an output of 2,000 engines/month
could be achieved with Ford SAF’s current park of machines. Echoing
Schaaf’s remarks the day before, Streit noted that Ford-Werke managed
to produce 50 per cent more than Ford SAF with the same number of
machines. Effectively conceding the point, Ricq claimed that the problem
was not the number of machines but the supply of skilled labour and raw
matériels. Ricq also underscored the issue of standards, reiterating that
Ford-Werke was overly demanding. Although Streit replied that these
standards posed no problems for other Ford factories in Europe, he
agreed that Ford-Werke would be more flexible on the issue, at least
temporarily. Following a comment from Wiskott that a ‘complete clarity’
did not exist regarding Ford SAF’s use of suppliers and sub-suppliers, the
participants debated the extent of the company’s efforts to advance
the truck programme, with the Germans generally complaining that

46
AN 3W/228, ‘Memento pour Monsieur Lehideux’, 1 July 1943.
47
AN 3W/228, ‘Compte-rendu de la Conférence du 2 juillet 1943 au C.O.A.’, undated.
 Taking stock: the July 1943 meetings 213

insufficient progress had been made and the French countering that
everything possible was being done. After considerable back-and-forth,
Ricq asked Streit directly if he believed that Ford SAF and the COA had
badly used their resources. After some havering, Streit answered no,
allowing Ricq to assert that Ford SAF was beyond reproach.48
The aim of COA officials was not simply to defend Ford SAF but also
to lower German expectations. With this goal in mind, Amaury L’Epine,
who earlier had been one of the COA’s technicians posted to Ford SAF,
announced that neither Lehideux nor Dollfus had ever endorsed the
programme’s monthly production targets for engines and parts. If
Lehideux remained silent, Dollfus reacted more cautiously, suggesting
that the current target of 6,000 engines during the first trimester of 1944
was simply impossible and that a figure of 1,200–1,400/month would
be more reasonable. Pretending to be taken aback, Schaaf exclaimed
that he did not understand why Dollfus was talking of reducing the
programme, before adding that any proposed reductions would have
to come from Ford-Werke. A leading Ford-Werke official in France,
H. W. Löckmann, rejected any idea of altering the programme established
during the April 1943 meetings. Instead, Löckmann directed the discus-
sions back to the practical problems facing Ford SAF, most notably
shortages of labour, matériels and machines. After further exchanges,
everyone agreed that greater cooperation was needed to mobilize the
resources of the French automobile industry as a whole behind Ford-
Werke’s programme. Careful to avoid details, Lehideux declared that
success in an ‘endeavour so difficult’ would depend on ‘an honest collab-
oration’ between the COA and the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug.49
The following day, delegates from Ford-Werke and Ford SAF met with
Wiskott to consider practical measures. On the issue of labour, it was
decided that the COA would identify where workers could be found after
which German armaments officials would be responsible for arranging
their transfer to Ford SAF. Although this approach possessed at least one
basic weakness, namely the COA’s professed ignorance of conditions
within the French automobile industry, the participants assumed that
something similar would apply for the supply of machines, machine
toolists and raw matériels. On the fraught issue of the programme’s size,
the participants eschewed any clear-cut conclusions. Instead, they merely
agreed that Ford SAF’s projected output over the coming months (based
as it was on current results) was unacceptable.50

48
AN 3W/228, ‘Compte-rendu de la réunion du 3 juillet 1943’, undated. 49 Ibid.
50
AN 3W/228, ‘Procès-verbal définitif sur le résultat de la réunion chez Ford SAF, le 5
juillet’, 8 July 1943.
214 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

In his valuable article on Ford-Werke’s attempt to take over Ford

SAF, the historian Peter Leβmann argued that the July 1943 meetings
amounted to an admission of failure, after which the Germans effectively
abandoned the Ford truck programme.51 The situation, however, was
arguably more complicated. That the Germans were discouraged is
beyond question. Following the first meeting with the French, Speer’s
personal representative in France remarked that ‘the impression is gaining
ground that [Ford-Werke’s] programme exists only on paper and that in
reality it is impracticable’.52 Three days later, Schaaf remarked that
German officials in France had painted an over-optimistic view of Ford
SAF’s productive potential and that the truck programme appeared to be
heading towards failure. Yet the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s chief
nevertheless felt that the programme should be maintained for ‘tactical
reasons’. That Schaaf thereby hoped to get some production from Ford
SAF is evident from his argument that the Germans needed to take a more
hands-on approach in the running of the company. He therefore recom-
mended that Schmidt replace Tannen as the enemy assets commissioner
at Ford SAF with full authority to oversee the truck programme.53
Everyone (including Schmidt) presumably agreed with this change, for
the appointment followed within days. Justifying his decision to Lehideux,
Schaaf contended that, despite its professions, Ford SAF was not over-
coming difficulties ‘with the necessary effort and consistency’. Referring
to the February 1943 Luxembourg accord, in which it was agreed that
Ford SAF would come under German control if its performance was
judged unsatisfactory, he maintained that the time had come to get rid
of Dollfus. As for the choice of Schmidt, Schaaf added somewhat wryly
that most people would view it as a favour that the occupiers had desig-
nated as commissioner ‘the head of the German subsidiary of an enemy
[business] group’.54
Schaaf’s letter had little chance of appeasing Lehideux. Indeed, the
latter had already expressed his ‘stupefaction’ on learning of Schmidt’s
appointment. In a letter to Schaaf, Lehideux complained that he had not
been consulted, which he predictably presented as a violation of the
Luxembourg accord, before going on to affirm that any attempt to exclude
the COA from an active role in the Ford-Werke programme gainsaid what
had supposedly been agreed to at the meetings in early July. Similarly,

51
Leβmann, ‘Ford Paris im Zugriff von Ford Köln 1943’, 231–3.
52
BA-MA RW 24/31, ‘Aktenvermerk über Besprechung betreffend Ford S.A.F. –
Programm am 2.7. 1943’.
53
BA-MA RW 24/31, ‘Aktenvermerk über Besprechung am 5. Juli 1943 beim Rü-Be-Stab’,
5 July 1943.
54
AN 3W/228, Schaaf to Lehideux, 9 July 1943.
 Germany and the Ford programme: July–November 1943 215

Lehideux emphasized that he could never accept that a foreign company

(Ford-Werke) could become the ‘real boss’ of a company belonging to the
COA. As always, he insisted that larger stakes were involved, threatening
to withdraw the COA’s collaboration if Schmidt were appointed Ford
SAF’s enemy assets commissioner.55 When Schaaf refused to reconsider,
however, Lehideux backed down somewhat, grudgingly accepting
Schmidt’s appointment while maintaining that the COA remained a
vital intermediary between Ford-Werke on the one hand and Ford SAF
and the French automobile industry on the other. The danger, he
explained, was that the two companies would place orders pell-mell with
French suppliers and sub-suppliers, creating chaos. Echoing Schaaf’s wry
tone, he commented that this would ‘not be a very business-like way of
working’.56
By July 1943, the fate of Ford-Werke’s truck programme appeared
uncertain. Despite their doubts, Ford-Werke and the Hauptausschuss
Kraftfahrzeug remained interested in the programme, even if privately
they reduced significantly their expectations. Although neither Ford SAF
nor the COA appeared enthusiastic about the programme, both had to be
careful in light of German suspicions that they were not doing enough.
Both sides tacitly recognized that Ford SAF’s production targets were
overly ambitious. But this left open the question of what Ford SAF’s
contribution would be to the truck programme. No less uncertain was
the meaning of Schmidt’s appointment as enemy assets commissioner. If
German officials clearly viewed it as a means to galvanize their French
counterparts, Dollfus and Lehideux could be expected to do everything
they could to fend off this renewed threat to Ford SAF’s independence
and to the COA’s authority.

German efforts to reanimate the Ford programme:

July–November 1943
Rather than abandon Ford-Werke’s truck programme, the Germans
sought to reanimate it in the summer and autumn of 1943. Writing to
Lehideux at the end of July, Schaaf framed the principal problem in terms
of disagreements between Ford SAF and Ford-Werke on technical issues.
In addition to insisting that such disagreements were a normal part of the
production process and could easily be resolved by an exchange of
experts, Schaaf issued a broader appeal for collaboration between the
two men and their two organizations:

55
AN 3W/227, Lehideux to Schaaf, 7 July 1943.
56
AN 3W/227, Lehideux to Schaaf, 9 July 1943.
216 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

Nothing is more trying than to resolve the difficulties which appear between two
parallel industries, which is the case with Ford SAF and with Ford Cologne[,] and
I believe that you, like me, have better things to do than to be constantly caught up
in this conflict. I really cannot believe that the quarrel separating two companies
that are related is more important for you than the national problems with which
you and I must occupy ourselves.
Schaaf also reiterated that Ford SAF’s needs had priority within the
French automobile industry, asking for Lehideux’s cooperation in trans-
lating this principle into practical measures.57
While Schaaf sought to reassure Lehideux, German officials in France
redoubled their efforts on behalf of Ford-Werke’s truck programme.
Wiskott, who remained as the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s special
delegate, embarked on a new round of direct meetings with various
French automobile companies to consider how they might contribute.58
Meanwhile, at a conference in late August, Schaaf reminded armaments
officials that Speer had insisted on increasing French truck production
and that Ford-Werke’s programme took precedence. Over the next sev-
eral days, the Germans discussed among themselves and with COA
officials how to ensure that Ford SAF received the supplies of labour
and matériels that it required.59 At the local level, armaments teams
were kept busy scouring France for available machine tools and workers
as well as for sub-suppliers that could work for Ford SAF. In early
September 1943, for example, Speer’s armaments staff reported that
fifty-four leading sub-suppliers had been identified and attempts under-
taken to integrate them into the Ford programme.60 To facilitate these
endeavours, Schmidt replaced Tannen, who was thought to be too sym-
pathetic to Ford SAF, with Major Herbert Beckers as his representative as
enemy assets administrator.61
This renewed effort, however, quickly ran into familiar difficulties. In
his talks with German officials in France, Schaaf had pointed to shortages
of steel as a particularly pressing problem. With no German sources

57
AN 3W/228, Schaaf to Lehideux, 29 July 1943.
58
BFRC, FMC, ACC 713, Box 7, Wiskott to Becker, 12 October 1943 (English trans-
lation); and AN 3W/228, Ford-Werke to COA, 22 July 1943.
59
BA-MA RW 24/31, ‘Besprechung am 27.8.43, 8 Uhr vormittag, bein Major Graf’, 1
September 1943; also see in the same file the report on a meeting with the
Heereswaffenamt, 30 August 1943.
60
BA-MA RW 24/93, Rü Kdo Paris-Ost, ‘Wochenabschnitt vom 11.7. – 17.7.1943’; RW
24/31, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstabes Frankreich, ‘Aktenvermerk’, 6 September
1943; and NARA T 77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris-West, Kriegstagebuch, 24 July 1943.
61
BAL R 87/9335, MbF to RkBfV, 19 October 1943; and BA-MA RW 24/109, Rü Kdo
Paris-West, Kriegstagebuch, 24 August 1943.
 Germany and the Ford programme: July–November 1943 217

available, Schaaf could only hope that French companies would somehow
find adequate quantities – an extremely dubious hope by 1943.62 The
Germans were markedly less sanguine regarding machines tools and
manpower. Although they continued to accuse Ford SAF of exaggerating
its need for machine tool hours, German officials nevertheless evaluated
the company’s needs to be around 175,000 hours, which amounted to 500
machine toolists working forty hours/week for almost nine weeks.63 As for
manpower, in August 1943 Ford SAF claimed that it urgently needed
2,863 additional workers, which included 263 machine toolists and
728 skilled workers. Speer’s officials believed this figure to be inflated,
but they also admitted that Ford SAF was short of workers, especially
skilled workers. The armaments team for Paris-West thus estimated Ford
SAF’s immediate needs at 1,820 (skilled and unskilled) workers.
Exacerbating matters were labour shortages among Ford SAF’s numer-
ous suppliers and sub-suppliers.64 Given the paucity of skilled and
unskilled labour in France at the time, it was simply impossible to meet
these demands. Instructed in July to locate machine toolists for Ford SAF,
the armaments team for Paris-East could only identify twelve. Several
months later, the armaments teams for the Paris region were collectively
ordered to supply Ford SAF with 1,000 workers and its suppliers with
another 500. Commenting on the order in its war diary, the team for Paris-
Centre tersely remarked that ‘it is certain that the Ford programme will not
be 100 per cent fulfilled’.65
Another and related difficulty concerned the non-cooperative attitude
of the French automobile industry as a whole. At the July 1943 meetings,
Schaaf had reiterated the importance of mobilizing the productive
capacity and resources of other French companies behind Ford-Werke’s
programme. With this goal in mind, in early September German arma-
ments officials organized a meeting with representatives of leading French
companies at which the latter promised to provide the ‘necessary support’

62
BA-MA RW 24/101, Rü Kdo Paris-Mitte, Kriegstagebuch, 20 August – 5 September
1943.
63
AN 3W/229, ‘Copie de la note adressée par M. Schnellbächer à M. Behr’, 4 August 1943.
A German visit to Ford SAF’s Bourges factory in September 1943 revealed that the
shortage of machine toolists meant that only 200 of its 500 machines were working. See
BA-MA RW 24/109, Rü Kdo Paris-West, 13 September 1943.
64
AN 3W/228, Tannen to Graf (Rüstungsobermann in Frankreich), 10 August 1943;
NARA T 77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris-West, Kriegstagebuch, 7 August 1943; and BA-MA
RW 24/31, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstabes Frankreich, ‘Aktenvermerk’, 14 September
1943.
65
NARA T 77/1264, Rü Kdo Paris-Ost, ‘Wochenabschnitt vom 18.7. – 24.7.1943’,
undated; and BA-MA RW 24/102, Rü Kdo Paris-Mitte, Kriegstagebuch, 10–24
October 1943.
218 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

to Ford SAF. But this promise was largely honoured in the breach.
Renault, for example, had initially agreed to transfer an unspecified
number of workers to Ford SAF as well as to make parts for rear axles,
only to renege on the agreement: Ford SAF, Renault now insisted, would
have to supply it with workers, machines and matériels. Similarly, Citroën
had contracted to make gear-boxes but by early 1944 the accumulated
delays were so great that Ford SAF asked for the return of the unfinished
parts it had supplied as part of the terms – a request that prompted Citroën
to respond snidely that most parts were of such poor quality as to be
unusable.66 With some justification, Dollfus could complain to a Ford-
Werke official in September 1943 that ‘roughly speaking, we have
received no help from the French Automobile Industry’.67
German officials in France had no means of compelling companies
such as Renault and Citroën to contribute to Ford-Werke’s truck
programme. In some way, this powerlessness reflected the hands-off
approach that the Nazi regime adopted towards (non-Jewish owned)
companies both in Germany and in much of occupied Europe.68 But it
was also rooted in the administrative chaos that continued to reign in
France in the industrial realm. Throughout 1943, a confusingly large
number of German organizations (Wehrmacht, army, air force,
Organisation Todt, etc.) as well as German companies placed orders
directly with French firms, viewing one another more as rivals for scarce
capacity and resources than as allies committed to a common cause.
Thus, if Renault and Citroën could leave Ford SAF in the lurch without
any fear of sanction, it was because they either possessed or were in the
process of acquiring German contracts.
Ironically, during the summer and autumn of 1943, German armaments
officials in France unwittingly aggravated the chaos in the industrial realm
to the detriment of Ford-Werke’s programme. In response to mounting
German frustration with the delays at Ford SAF, COA officials in early
August proposed that the Germans could ‘catch up’ to their schedule by
increasing the truck production of other French automobile companies.
Although well aware that the major French companies had little spare
capacity, given that most already possessed outstanding German contracts,
the COA nevertheless contended that Citroën could make 2,600 3.5-ton
trucks per trimester, Renault 3,800 3.5-ton trucks and Berliet and

66
For Renault, see AN 3W/228, ‘Commandes de ponts arrère de Ford à Renault’, undated;
and ibid., Ford to Citroën, 10 February 1944, and response, 21 February 1944.
67
AN 3W/229, Dollfus to Löckmann (Ford-Werke), 5 October 1943. The letter is trans-
lated into English.
68
On this point, see Buchheim, ‘Unternehmen in Deutschland und NS-Regime 1933–
1945’.
 Germany and the Ford programme: July–November 1943 219

Saurer together 1,000 5-ton trucks. The COA’s intentions are not difficult
to divine.69 In underscoring the potential support of French companies, the
COA hoped to appease the Germans while at the same time preventing the
industry from being turned into a mere auxiliary of Ford-Werke’s
programme.
Its motives aside, the COA had no trouble in interesting the Germans.
In late August 1943, Wiskott met once again with the representatives of
various French companies, asking whether they could boost their produc-
tion of trucks in the short term, rather than helping Ford SAF. Renault,
Citroën and Berliet all answered that they could do so, though adding that
they would require considerable supplies of labour and matériel. All three
companies also mentioned delays, which Renault estimated at nine
months and Berliet at six months.70 That French automobile companies
responded favourably (albeit cautiously) to Wiskott’s inquiry is hardly
surprising: they had little desire to subordinate their production pro-
grammes to Ford SAF’s needs. Citroën, for example, had reacted vio-
lently to Dollfus’ suggestion that it should become a ‘manufacturer’
(façonnier) for Ford SAF.71 More surprising, however, is the German
response, which was to plunge forward. By early September 1943,
German officials had drawn up a tentative truck production programme
for the French automobile industry. Running through to October 1944,
the programme called for Ford SAF to make 24,000 trucks, Renault
12,000, Citroën 7,100, Berliet 2,980 and Saurer 1,500, for a total of
over 47,000 trucks.72 In early December 1943, the Hauptausschuss
Kraftfahrzeug handed an updated programme to the COA covering
1944 as a whole. Omitting Ford SAF’s contribution, the new programme
foresaw the production of some 25,000 trucks, with Renault and Citroën
to deliver 19,600 3.5-half-ton trucks, Berliet and Saurer to deliver 4,480
4.5-half-ton trucks and Peugeot to deliver 1,165 2-ton trucks.73

69
AN 3W/227, Norroy (COA) to Kentler (Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug representative in
Paris), 4 August 1943. For evidence that the COA knew these figures were unrealistic, see
AN 3W/229, untitled note, 10 June 1943.
70
For example, see AN 3W/228, ‘Compte-rendu de la reunion du 26 août 1943 à 17 heures
dans le bureau du Major von Guillaume à l’Hôtel Astoria (Rüstungs- und
Beschaffungsamt)’, which concerns Renault; and ibid., ‘Compte-rendu de la reunion
du 26 août au Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsamt avec les Usines Citroën’, both dated
27 August 1943.
71
AN 3W/228, Dollfus to Lehideux, 25 September 1943.
72
For the programme, see BA-MA RW 24/101, Rü Kdo Paris-Mitte, Kriegstagebuch,
30 August – 5 September 1943.
73
The updated programme is included in AN 3W/229, ‘Note pour Messieurs Champonier
[and] Norroy’, L’Epine, 7 December 1943.
220 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

These targets were entirely unrealistic in the straitened economic cir-

cumstances of 1943–4. If the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug had doubts
about the feasibility of Ford-Werke’s programme, expanding it to encom-
pass other companies was certainly odd. With good reason, the arma-
ments team for Paris-Centre commented on the new programme that
production results would ‘in reality be considerably lower’.74 But even
more remarkable is the fact that the German authorities pretended that
the new programme would have no effect on the original one. Armaments
teams were thus instructed to push French automobile companies to the
‘limits of their capacity’ to produce trucks while at the same time making
sure that Ford-Werke’s programme was ‘not affected’.75 But this was
nonsense. The expanded truck programme effectively stripped Ford
SAF’s priority of any meaning it might have had. The possibility that
companies might help Ford SAF entirely vanished. More generally, it
sounded the death-knell for the initial plan to wind down the production
of other automobile companies, thereby freeing capacity and resources for
Ford SAF. Rather than a more organized exploitation of the French
automobile industry, the enlarged truck programme was almost certain
to achieve the opposite.
Why did the Germans create another programme at the very moment
that they sought to invigorate Ford-Werke’s programme? One reason
stemmed from the disorganized nature of the German economic admin-
istration in France. Despite his best efforts, Speer never succeeded in
forging the industrial dictatorship that he sought either in Germany or in
occupied Europe. Other power centres remained. Even within Speer’s staff
the lines of authority were confused. In October 1943, the armaments
team for Paris-West, which was supposedly responsible for overseeing
Ford SAF’s activities, complained that it remained excluded from the
planning for the Ford-Werke programme: it knew almost nothing about
the programme’s overall goal or even its own tasks.76 In this situation, a
single coherent strategy on the part of the Germans was always unlikely.
That said, deliberate calculation also factored into the decision to
expand the truck programme: an expanded programme requiring signifi-
cant increases in manpower would place Speer’s staff in a better position
to counter Sauckel’s insistent demands to deport French workers to
Germany.77 But if the decision was deliberately calculated, it was a

74
NARA T 77/1264, Rü Kdo Paris-Mitte, ‘Lagebericht’, no. 625/43, 18 October 1943.
75
BA-MA RW 24/101, Rü Kdo Paris-Mitte, Kriegstagebuch, 23–9 August 1943.
76
NARA T 77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris-West to Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstab Frankreich,
11 October 1943.
77
On this point, see BA-MA RW 24/31, ‘Aktenvermerk’ regarding a meeting on 13 August
1943, dated 14 August 1943.
 The response of the COA and of Ford SAF 221

calculation born of desperation. While the Wehrmacht urgently needed

trucks, the prospects of getting them in significant numbers from Ford-
Werke’s programme appeared increasingly uncertain. And so armaments
officials turned to other companies in the hope that they might be able to
provide something in the near future. Although the contending priorities
and competition for resources between the various automobile companies
risked creating chaos, in the short term at least the strategy was perhaps no
more risky than putting all of one’s eggs in the Ford SAF basket.

The response of the COA and of Ford SAF

Despite the increasing sense of urgency on the German side, the COA
continued to procrastinate. In August, it curtly informed the Germans that
it would take six to eight months before production targets could be met, a
time-frame that was made conditional on the supply of considerable man-
power to Ford SAF and its suppliers. Meanwhile, still bitter over the
appointment of Schmidt as foreign assets administrator for Ford SAF,
Lehideux continued to insist that the company could not be blamed for
the lengthening delays. Ford SAF’s directors, he wrote Schaaf in July, have
committed ‘no mistakes nor serious acts of negligence’, adding that ‘on
the contrary I must admit that they have expended very large efforts and
have furnished a considerable activity in order to surmount the difficulties
which confront them, particularly in the area of supplies’. The principal
cause of the tension between Ford SAF and Ford-Werke, Lehideux con-
tinued, were the unreasonable demands and bad faith of the latter – a
problem, he remarked, that Schmidt’s appointment would only exacer-
bate. Notwithstanding Schaaf’s pleas for cooperation, Lehideux held to this
line. Thus, in August he informed Schaaf that it was up to the Germans
alone to supply Ford SAF with the machines and machine tools it
required.78 Interestingly, the COA privately expressed doubts about Ford
SAF’s good faith. In an internal memorandum in November, one COA
official reported that Ford SAF’s failure to respond to queries about its
activities had become ‘systematic’.79 For Lehideux, however, the COA’s
task was not to prod Ford SAF to contribute more to Ford-Werke’s
programme but to defend the company against German criticism.
By the autumn of 1943, in any case, Lehideux’s attention was firmly
riveted on the post-occupation period, which he believed to be close at

78
AN 3W/227, COA (Norroy) to Kentler, 4 August 1943; 3W/228, Lehideux to Schaaf,
22 July 1943; and Lehideux to Schaaf, 9 August 1943.
79
AN 3W/234, ‘Note pour Monsieur Lehideux’, Charles de Bailliencourt, 10 November
1943.
222 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

hand. Indeed, at the end of the year, he drew up a peace-time ‘construc-

tion programme’ to run for five years and which foresaw hefty increases in
the overall production of trucks in particular. Thus, while the programme
called for the production of automobiles to rise progressively from 55,000
to 250,000, with the final figure representing an increase of 25 per cent
over that of 1938, the output of ‘industrial vehicles’ (chiefly trucks) would
grow from 85,000 to 120,000, an increase of over 500 per cent.80 For
Lehideux, accordingly, it was important that all the major automobile
companies, and not just Ford SAF, continue to produce trucks for the
remainder of the Occupation if afterwards the programme were to be
rapidly implemented. The COA thus had no interest in privileging
Ford-Werke’s truck programme.
Ford SAF seems to have played a slightly more subtle game than the
COA. There is some evidence that Ford SAF sought to mobilize the
French automobile industry to contribute to Ford-Werke’s programme.
In addition to urging the COA to intervene on its behalf, Ford SAF
pressured individual companies to fulfil their obligations. In November
1943, for example, Dollfus criticized the directors of Citroën for refusing
to accept Ford-Werke’s demands regarding norms for certain parts for
gear-boxes – a criticism not without irony given Ford SAF’s ongoing
disputes with Ford-Werke on precisely this issue.81 It is difficult to
gauge to what extent Ford SAF’s efforts constituted a stratagem to deflect
responsibility for its own disappointing results. What is clear, however, is
that Ford SAF echoed the COA in insisting that others were to blame for
problems and delays. Writing to a Ford-Werke official in October 1943,
Dollfus again complained that Ford SAF had received no help from the
French automobile industry. As for German promises to supply matériels
and manpower, he remarked that ‘nothing has been done to help Ford
SAF or rather that if efforts have been made to help Ford SAF, these
efforts have achieved nothing’. Not surprisingly, Dollfus was particularly
critical of Wiskott’s continuing activities on behalf of the Hauptausschuss
Kraftfahrzeug, lecturing to Speer’s staff that they were counter-productive
as well as a violation of existing agreements.82

80
Archives historique du Crédit Agricole, DEEF 59895–2, ‘Exposé de M. Lehideux,
Directeur responsible du Comité d’organisation de l’automobile et du cycle, devant le
Conseil Général des Transports (11 Novembre 1943)’, 18 December 1943; and BNF,
Lehideux, ‘La construction automobile en France. Possibilités, caractéristiques,
évolutions’, 22 December 1943.
81
AN 3W/228, Dollfus to Citroën, 22 November 1943; and Dollfus to Lehideux, 25
September 1943.
82
AN 3W/228, Dollfus to Löckmann (Ford-Werke), 5 October 1943; and BA-MA RW 24/
32, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstabes Frankreich, ‘Aktenvermerk’ on meeting with
Dollfus on 28 October 1943, dated 29 October 1943.
 The response of the COA and of Ford SAF 223

Another indication of Ford SAF’s limited commitment to the Ford

programme is the company’s effort to increase its stocks of raw matériels.
After the Liberation, Raoul Desombiaux, a high-ranking official in the
COA’s raw matériels section, claimed that while French companies dur-
ing the Occupation generally inflated their raw matériel requests by 10 per
cent, Ford SAF did so by 80 per cent. This claim is certainly questionable.
Indeed, Desombiaux admitted that Ford SAF’s practice aroused the
suspicion of the German authorities, who could compare the company’s
demands with those of Ford-Werke which employed similar production
methods – and thus had similar needs.83 Equally pertinent, Ford SAF was
under German observation. Throughout 1943, a large number of
Germans (from Ford-Werke, from the armaments administration and
from the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug) visited the company’s various
factories, sometimes for extended periods. Indeed, one Ford SAF official
remembered that during 1943 ‘there were German controllers in every
one of its decentralized plants’ and that ‘all decisions on personnel and
matériels had to go through German authorities’. Needless to say, this
German presence made it difficult to hide large amounts of matériels.84
That said – and despite the post-war statements of German armaments
officials that the amount of supplies was carefully calculated in each case –
it does seem that Ford SAF succeeded in squirreling away sizeable quan-
tities of raw matériels. According to an undated COA report, at the end of
March 1944 Ford SAF possessed 2,210,452 tons of (unspecified) raw
matériel stocks, which represented a jump of almost 150 per cent from the
end of 1940. Only two automobile companies, SIMCA and Peugeot,
showed a comparable or greater increase. Although the two dates span
almost the entire occupation period, it is not unreasonable to assume that
the growth in Ford SAF’s stocks occurred primarily during 1943–4 when
the Germans were desperately trying to animate the Ford-Werke pro-
gramme.85 If so, Ford SAF appears to have seized this opportunity to
begin preparing for the post-war period by building its stocks, which
would facilitate a faster conversion to peacetime production when the
time came. Such a strategy necessarily came at the expense of current
production.
If Ford SAF was surreptitiously increasing its stocks of raw matériels
during 1943, it also sought to free itself from German oversight. At a

83
AN 3W/221, Raoul Desombiaux deposition, 31 May 1945.
84
BFRC, FMC, ACC 880, Box 6, file: FMC – France – Interviews, ‘Interview with Marcel
Cola – Sales Manager – Ford (France) July 13, 1960’.
85
For stocks, see AN 3W/221, untitled and undated note. For German armaments officials,
see the deposition of André Kronefeld, 16 April 1945, in ibid.
224 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

meeting with German armaments officials in early November 1943,

Dollfus proposed that Ford SAF alone be made responsible for inspecting
its products. Not surprisingly, the delegates of Ford-Werke opposed the
proposal.86 Unwilling to drop the matter, several days later Dollfus wrote
to Streit, Ford-Werke’s representative in France, to insist that German
technicians be removed from his factories, arguing that the quality of Ford
SAF’s products was beyond reproach. No doubt tongue-in-cheek, he
even suggested that the technicians would be better employed at Ford-
Werke since a large number of the various parts it had recently delivered to
Ford SAF were supposedly defective. But Dollfus did not stop here. In its
tone and content, the letter amounted to a categorical rejection of Ford-
Werke’s position on almost every issue concerning the truck programme.
Claiming to speak as one Ford man to another, Dollfus maintained that
Ford-Werke’s quality problems demonstrated that he had always been
right about the need for flexibility in terms of manufacturing norms as well
as about the disadvantages of centralizing engine production in one plant.
The message was clear: Ford SAF was in no way responsible for the
problems afflicting Ford-Werke’s truck programme and should therefore
be left alone to operate as it deemed best.87

The imposition of Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen

By the autumn of 1943, the German authorities in France felt increasingly
frustrated. Despite their efforts to reanimate Ford-Werke’s truck pro-
gramme undertaken in the wake of the July meetings, progress remained
unsatisfactory. To be sure, the programme was far from a complete failure.
According to German reports, during the third quarter of 1943, Ford SAF
produced 2,501 engines, which represented just over 60 per cent of the
production target (4,000 engines) set for the period. This partial success,
however, appeared to be fleeting. For the last quarter of the year, engine
production would be 1,991 engines, a decline of 20 per cent; worse still,
this total represented only one third of the expected output which was due
to increase by 50 per cent to 6,000 engines.88 Somewhat awkwardly for

86
BA-MA RW 24/32, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstabes Frankreich, ‘Aktenvermerk’,
1 November 1943. For Ford-Werke’s complaints about quality, see AN 3W/228, Streit
(Ford-Werke) to Dollfus, 18 October 1943.
87
AN 3W/228, Dollfus to Streit, 9 November 1943. The continued Allied air raids against
French automobile factories during 1943 no doubt contributed to Dollfus’ determination
not to centralize engine production in one site. Peugeot’s plant at Monbéliard was
bombed in July and those of Citroën in Paris in September.
88
BA-MA RW 24/109, Rü Kdo Paris-West, ‘Überblick über die Berichtszeit vom 1.7. –
30.9.1943’; and RW 24/110, Rü Kdo Paris-West, ‘Überblick über die Berichtszeit vom
1.10. – 31.12.1943’.
 The imposition of Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen 225

Dollfus, the German numbers belied his claim in October 1943 that Ford
SAF was making 850 engines/month and would soon attain a rate of
1,000/month. But Dollfus was not about to get into an argument about
competing numbers. Instead, he presented the fact that Ford SAF was
producing anything at all as a success – as tangible evidence that the
company could continue to function effectively despite the extremely
difficult conditions which existed.89
Dollfus’ claims, however, fell on deaf ears. The Germans suspected that
the Ford programme was heading for failure and believed that the
French – and Ford SAF especially – were to blame. No one was more
convinced of this than Wiskott, the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s del-
egate. A key moment came in early October 1943 when Becker, the enemy
assets administrator at Ford SAF, sent a report to Ford-Werke which
blamed the German authorities for many of the difficulties with the truck
programme. Quickly apprised of the report, Wiskott wrote a letter to
Becker in which he identified the essential problem as incompetence on
Ford SAF’s part. If Ford SAF had difficulties with its suppliers and sub-
suppliers, it was largely because it had neglected to appoint ‘competent
liaison officers between Hiring, Planning, Purchasing and Production
Departments [of Ford SAF] on the one hand, and the contractors con-
cerned on the other’. Compounding this problem was the COA’s failure
to fulfil its promise, supposedly made in July, to loan three of its officials to
act as ‘purchasing specialists’ for the company. Ford SAF thus urgently
needed to acquire more ‘staff and employees’ in order to reorganize its
operations. Ending on a stirring note, Wiskott insisted that the Ford
programme constituted a ‘first rate patriotic duty’ for all the Germans
concerned ‘and [that] this justifies every attempt and every step which
can, by some way or another, help us to reach the goal’.90
Wiskott, however, had not said his last word. Two days after his first
letter to Becker, he penned another and much longer one in which he
fulminated against Ford SAF. Beginning where he had left off, Wiskott
expressed astonishment at the disorganized nature of Ford SAF’s activ-
ities, particularly its purchasing department, which, despite repeated
German complaints, remained incapable of performing the tasks expected
of it. The incompetence of the purchasing department handicapped Ford
SAF’s relations not only with potential suppliers and sub-suppliers but

89
AN 3W/228, Dollfus to Löckmann (Ford-Werke), 5 October 1943. Dollfus also made
this argument to Ford SAF’s board. See BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, ‘Ford S.A.F.
Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on November 16th, 1943’, undated.
90
BFRC, FMC, ACC 713, Box 7, file: Poissy – Report on Ford SAF 1938–45, Wiskott to
Becker, 10 October 1943 (English translation).
226 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

also with other automobile companies. The result was to exacerbate what
Wiskott perceived to be the long-standing ‘ill-feeling’ of French compa-
nies towards ‘Ford-Matford methods’. Clearly frustrated, he condemned
the continued absence of an effective department as ‘nothing else but
sabotage’.91
If anything, Wiskott was even more exasperated by Becker’s criticism of
the German authorities and, by implication, of himself. The
Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug, he maintained, had done everything pos-
sible to help Ford SAF. During the second and third quarters of 1943, for
example, it had supplied the company with considerable amounts of iron
and steel, even diverting scarce contingents from Renault. More gener-
ally, Wiskott rejected the claim that the priority accorded to the Ford
programme was meaningless, maintaining that Ford SAF had never sub-
mitted a specific request for contingents intended for other companies.
He made a similar point regarding manpower: not once during the last six
months had Ford SAF asked that particular tool-makers be requisitioned
to work in its factories. Wiskott’s arguments pointed to the confusion that
reigned on basic issues of initiative and authority. From the German
standpoint, it was up to the French to identify sources of matériels and
manpower, which German officials would then arrange to have trans-
ferred to Ford SAF. For both the COA and Ford SAF, however, the
task of locating supplies belonged to the Germans.
For our purposes, however, the most interesting aspect of Wiskott’s
critique was his unfavourable comparison of Ford SAF’s efforts with those
of other French companies. How was it, he asked, that Peugeot had
succeeded in finding 60,000 machine tool hours during the last six
months whereas Ford SAF found almost none? But this question was
merely the preface to a more sweeping indictment:

To conclude, I wish to tell you something else which I observed personally,

particularly at the time when I was in charge of the whole of the French vehicle
programme: The [sic] activity and the cleverness of nearly all the French automo-
bile manufacturers to iron out matters in silence when Ford S.A.F. would be
sending out S.O.S’S. [sic] is remarkable and should be considered. Because it is
not true that the Frenchman is not willing [to work for the Germans]. Each day
brings proof of the contrary. All this extolling on the part of Ford S.A.F. to keep
away from you their own mistakes is as poor, compared to the work accomplished
by the French automobile manufacturers. . .
‘There is something rotten in the state of Denmark’ and the old saying ‘God
helps those who help themselves’, Mr Dollfus should have applied it to himself last

91
Ibid., Wiskott to Becker, 12 October 1943 (English translation). Emphasis in original.
 The imposition of Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen 227

June. I do not see why you should have given him such a good alibi. . .by your
statement in regard to the deficiency of the German organization.

Wiskott did not ignore the various handicaps afflicting the French econ-
omy in 1943. Nevertheless, he was convinced that responsibility for the
disappointing results of the Ford-Werke programme lay principally with
Ford SAF and with Dollfus. Just as significantly, he intimated that Ford
SAF’s incompetence was at least in part deliberate – that the company was
sabotaging the truck programme.92
Wiskott’s indictment of Ford SAF provoked a series of meetings of
German officials in Paris in mid-October. At the first meeting, Becker
contritely sought to dampen Wiskott’s anger by maintaining that his
criticisms were not his own but those of Dollfus; at the next meeting,
however, Becker forcefully reiterated Ford SAF’s catalogue of com-
plaints, thereby confirming Wiskott’s suspicion that he had become
Dollfus’ mouthpiece. With tensions rising, it was decided to bypass
Becker and organize an encounter between Wiskott and Dollfus at the
end of the month. Whatever the expectations might have been, the results
proved thoroughly discouraging as the two men simply talked past one
another. While Wiskott defended his efforts to invigorate Ford SAF and
the Ford-Werke programme, Dollfus insisted on the preservation of his
company’s independence which, he insisted, was guaranteed by the agree-
ments signed between the French and German authorities. Once again, it
seemed, Ford-Werke’s truck programme had reached an impasse.93
It was at this moment of renewed deadlock that the fates of the Ford-
Werke programme and of the Speer–Bichelonne accords converged. The
accords called for the creation of S-Betriebe, specially designated factories
whose workers would be excluded from Sauckel’s labour drafts.
Potentially, however, the significance of the S-Betriebe system extended
well beyond labour supplies: it offered a means of imposing priorities on
French industrial production by deliberately favouring some sectors and
even companies while neglecting others – something the occupation
authorities had long demanded but hitherto failed to achieve. For these
reasons, German officials in November 1943 looked to the S-Betriebe
designation as a possible answer to their problems with the Ford-Werke
programme. The result was that Ford SAF was soon named an S-Betriebe.
At the same time, the value of this measure depended in large part on its
exclusiveness. The more S-Betriebe there were, the more difficult it would

92
Ibid.
93
BA-MA RW 24/32, ‘Aktenvermerk’ regarding a meeting on 14 October 1943;
‘Aktenvermerk’ regarding a meeting on 15 October 1943; and ‘Aktenvermerk’ regarding
a meeting on 28 October 1943.
228 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

become to translate this status into concrete benefits for Ford SAF in
terms of priority. And here the pertinent point is that by the end of 1943
virtually all French automobile companies were S-Betriebe, rendering the
distinction effectively meaningless.94
German efforts to break the impasse with the Ford-Werke programme,
however, did not centre solely on the designation of S-Betriebe. The Speer–
Bichelonne accords also foresaw the extension of Patenfirmen and
Leitenfirmen in France. As discussed in the previous chapter, a German
Patenfirma would be appointed to oversee a single French company while a
Leitenfirma would oversee several French companies. At the beginning of
November 1943, at the height of the crisis created by Wiskott’s letters,
German armaments officials in Paris met to consider the overall situation
created by the fact that the hoped-for production increases by French
companies had ‘failed to occur’. Agreement was quickly arrived at on the
need for armaments teams to be more effective in their interactions with
individual companies. Given the immense difficulties afflicting the French
economy, the armaments teams would have to be flexible and inventive; the
imperative was ‘to improvise’ and to avoid ‘bureaucracy’ (Bürokratismus).
They would, in other words, have to disregard formal rules and regulations
in the quest to stimulate production. But it was also decided to exploit as
fully as possible the system of Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen. As one official
remarked, this measure imposed itself precisely because armaments teams
lacked the resources to supervise the ‘technical’ aspects of production in the
‘required detailed manner’. Only German companies from the same indus-
try, it was presumed, possessed the practical knowledge to oversee the
efforts of French companies to fulfil their contractual obligations.95
Armaments teams were expected to work closely with officials from the
Paten and Leitenfirmen, but they could not substitute for the latter. Several
days later, German officials announced that Patenfirmen had been assigned
to several automobile companies, prominent among them Ford SAF. And
for the latter, the Germans named Ford-Werke.96
Recourse to Patenfirmen in the French automobile industry, however,
created its own problems and controversies. While Vichy authorities
sought to work with the Germans to ensure that the process of assigning
Patenfirms provoked as little disruption as possible, Lehideux and the

94
AN 19830589/6, MPI to Comité des petites et moyennes entreprises, February 1944; and
3W/229, MPI note, no. 8891, 24 December 1943.
95
NARA T 77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris-West, ‘Aktenvermerk über die Besprechung der
Rüstungskommandeure beim Rü-Be-Stab Frankreich am 1.11.43’, 2 November 1943;
also see T 77/1264, Rü Kdo Paris-Mitte, ‘Lagebericht’, no. 686/43, 18 November 1943.
96
AN 3W/233, Rüstungsobmann in Frankreich to Ford SAF, 4 November 1943.
 The imposition of Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen 229

COA viscerally opposed the measure.97 As usual, Lehideux complained

that the Germans had failed to consult the COA when taking the decisions –
a failure that supposedly violated the agreements between French and
German officials. Also present was the suspicion that German companies
would exploit their position as Patenfirma to take control of French com-
panies. But the COA’s opposition appeared to be motivated by the belief
that the system of Patenfirmen would disrupt the overall production pro-
gramme drawn up by the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug because the
German companies involved would pursue their own interests; the result
would be to favour one or two French companies at the expense of the
others. In effect, the COA feared that the Germans would succeed
in imposing production priorities on the French automobile industry and,
still more the point, in according priority to the Ford-Werke programme.98
True to form, Lehideux threatened to end his active support of indus-
trial collaboration if the occupation authorities did not renounce their
plans regarding Patenfirmen. This time, however, the Germans refused to
back down. In response to their complaints, the COA was told not only
that Bichelonne had given his prior approval but also that Speer himself
had issued a ‘formal decision’ that could not be reversed. German officials
did offer Lehideux a fig leaf, promising to consult with the COA on any
future appointments of Patenfirmen; but this promise was largely hon-
oured in the breach. It is worth underscoring that the Germans bypassed
the COA, dealing directly with Bichelonne, and that they ignored
Lehideux’s threats of non-cooperation. By the closing months of 1943,
any remaining confidence in Lehideux had evaporated and German
armaments officials were determined to forge ahead.99
Although Lehideux failed to sway the Germans, his fears proved to be
misplaced as the Patenfirmen quickly showed themselves to be little threat.
As noted in the previous chapter, Speer’s officials had initially defined the
powers of the Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen in limited terms. This
remained the situation despite the planned-for increase in the number of
such companies as a consequence of the Speer–Bichelonne accords.
Thus, instructions drawn up in October 1943 for German companies
acting as Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen emphasized their role as advisors

97
For Vichy authorities, see AN 19830589/6, MPI to General Stud (Rüstungs- und
Beschaffungsamt in Frankreich), 15 November 1943.
98
AN 19830589/6, COA, ‘Désignation de “Patenfirma” par les autorités d’occupation’, 12
November 1943; and 3W/233, ‘Memento. Arguments contre le parrainage dans l’auto-
mobile’, 2 November 1943.
99
See AN 3W/233, ‘Compte-rendu de notre visite à M. Bellier le 6 novembre 1943 au sujet
de “Patenfirma”’, L’Epine, 8 November 1943; and ‘Projet: Réflextions sur les
Patenfirmen’, 12 December 1943.
230 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

and facilitators. They could appoint particular agents (Firmenbeaufträgter)

to French companies but their duties were largely confined to those of
liaison. No doubt the lack of authority attached to the Patenfirmen helps to
explain why some German companies refused the offer, calculating that
the status brought no real benefits.100
Before long, moreover, the armaments teams were complaining about
the system of Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen. Although members of the two
groups (armaments officials and delegates of German companies) were
supposed to work closely together, the responsibilities of each remained
uncertain, hampering effective cooperation. It was not enough that every-
one ‘share information’, the armaments team for Paris-West argued in
October; what was needed were well-defined tasks.101 The rapid multi-
plication of Leitenfirmen and especially Patenfirmen did nothing to help
matters. At the end of 1943, another armaments team reported that the
principal result had been a notable rise in paperwork at the expense of direct
contact with French companies.102 But the real problem with the
Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen was that they could not fulfil their purpose –
that of providing a close-up, hands-on oversight of French companies
working for the Germans. The delegates of the German companies pos-
sessed neither the authority nor the resources to do so. Such oversight
would have required that German Patenfirmen or Leitenfirmen take over
the running of French companies, something that had been excluded from
the beginning and that would have been so disruptive as to be counter-
productive. The armaments teams had never been able to exercise such a
level of oversight on French companies, and they were justifiably sceptical
that German companies would be any more successful. In the end, the
internal affairs of French companies largely amounted to terra incognita for
the Germans both before and after the Speer–Bichelonne accords.
But it is not merely the case that the system of Patenfirmen and
Leitenfirmen did nothing to solve the basic problem of oversight. If any-
thing, it exacerbated matters by stoking the suspicions of French indus-
trialists. ‘The signs appear to be multiplying’, remarked one report in
October 1943, that ‘Fr[ench factory directors see in the naming of a
Patenfirma the tutelage and control of their own factories, with the result
that their own initiative and interest in cooperation sinks.’ That these
suspicions proved to be largely unfounded is less important than their

100
BA-MA RW 35/787, untitled instructions dated 15 October 1943. For an example of
refusal, see BAL R 3/3276, Zahnradfabrik Friedrichshafen AG to Länderbeauftragte für
Frankreich des Hauptausschusses Panzerwagen und Zugmaschinen, 26 October 1943.
101
NARA T 77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris-West to Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstab Frankreich,
20 October 1943.
102
NARA T 77/1264, Rü Kdo Paris-Ost, ‘Vierjährlicher Überblick’, 31 December 1943.
 Ford-Werke as Ford SAF’s Patenfirma 231

immediate effect, which was to dampen the ‘desire (Lust und Liebe) to
cooperate’ with the Germans.103 This point is critical because, now more
than ever, the occupation authorities desperately needed French goodwill.
In the context of late 1943, with the French economy suffering from
massive shortages of almost all factors of production as well as of transport,
the ability to get anything done depended more and more on the initiative of
individual companies. The emphasis placed on improvisation – on
débrouillardise – applied not only to the Germans but even more so to the
French. It was, above all, French companies who would have to improvise
to keep production going; and it was they who would have to find ways
(legal and other) to overcome the many obstacles facing them. Just as
importantly, the Germans could not command this effort, most obviously
because they lacked the resources but also because such an effort lay beyond
accurate observation and evaluation. Neither the armaments teams nor the
delegates of Patenfirmen could really know whether a French company was
doing all it could. As a result, the Germans had no choice but to rely on
French goodwill at the same time that the system of Patenfirmen and
Leitenfirmen risked jeopardizing what remained of this goodwill.

Ford-Werke as Ford SAF’s Patenfirma

If Ford-Werke became Ford SAF’s Patenfirma in early November 1943, it
was initially unclear what this would mean in concrete terms. In mid-
November, the German armaments administration in France informed
Johannes Stahlberg, its ‘industrial commissioner’ with Ford SAF, that his
services were no longer needed as Ford-Werke had become the com-
pany’s ‘sponsor’ (marraine); the fact that Stahlberg had initially come
from Ford-Werke does not appear to have mattered.104 In any event,
instead of appointing someone to replace Stahlberg, Ford-Werke con-
tented itself with an attempt to strengthen the authority of Becker, the
enemy assets administrator with Ford SAF. Accordingly, at a general
meeting of Ford SAF shareholders that month Becker declared that, as
joint-director of enemy property (the absent Schmidt of Ford-Werke was
the other), he would have to approve all decisions taken. As Dollfus
informed a board meeting later the same day, Becker had become the
‘assistant director’ of Ford SAF.105

103
BA-MA RW 24/110, Rü Kdo Paris-West, Kriegstagebuch, 12 October 1943.
104
AN 3W/228, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstab Frankreich, untitled note, 16 November
1943.
105
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, ‘Minutes of the Ordinary General Meeting of
Shareholders Held on November 16th, 1943’; and ‘Ford S.A.F. Minutes of the Board
Meeting Held on November 16th, 1943’.
232 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

It soon became apparent, however, that this change did not amount to
much. One reason is that Becker had already shown himself to be
sympathetic to Ford SAF’s difficulties as presented by Dollfus. It was
therefore unlikely that he would overrule the latter.106 But there is
another reason why the imposition of a Patenfirma meant little: Ford-
Werke’s attitude. In early 1944, German armaments officials in France
would complain that the Patenfirmen system, rather than facilitating
collaboration between French and German companies, often aggravated
tensions by underscoring conflicts of interest.107 Interestingly, however,
Ford SAF and Ford-Werke were an exception as tensions between the
two companies abated during late 1943 and early 1944. The reason
appears to have been Ford-Werke’s lack of interest in exploiting what-
ever potential for greater control its Patenfirma status offered. After the
war, Schmidt claimed that Ford-Werke had refused the proposal for
‘custodianship’ of Ford SAF. If, strictly speaking, this claim is false
since Ford-Werke was appointed Patenfirma, it does point to a more
basic truth: that well before the end of 1943 Ford-Werke had abandoned
its earlier ambitions to integrate Ford SAF into its European empire.
Instead, its goal became to distance itself from Ford SAF in order to
avoid being blamed for the perceived failure of the truck programme.
This is not to say that Schmidt did not expect Ford SAF to make some
contribution to the programme. But it did mean that Ford-Werke would
seek to limit any direct involvement with Ford SAF – and thus any
responsibility for its results.108
But even if Ford-Werke had still been interested in taking over Ford
SAF, it would likely not have succeeded. One reason is that the German
authorities did not conceive of the Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen system as
a means to control French companies. As a result, any German official
(whether Becker or someone sent directly by Ford-Werke) would have
lacked the power to intervene in the running of Ford SAF. German
armaments officials did try to tighten the reins over Ford SAF: in
November 1943, they appointed a special delegate to the company
charged with overseeing its participation in the truck programme and in
December they replaced Becker with someone more independent of

106
Wiskott continued to criticize both Ford SAF and Becker. See BFRC, FMC, ACC 713,
Box 7, file: Poissy – Report on Ford S.A.F. 1938–45, Wiskott to Becker, 1 December 1943.
107
AN AJ 40/603, ‘Vermerk’, Wi I/2 – Feindvermögen, 17 February 1944.
108
For Schmidt, see BFRC, Ford-Werke, NARA 0001184-193, R. H. Schmidt to Lord
Perry, 28 May 1945. Revealingly, Ford-Werke refused categorically to send Ford SAF
any workers. See BA-MA RW 24/32, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstab Frankreich,
‘Beitrag zum Wochenbericht’, 22 November 1943.
 Assessing Ford SAF’s contribution 233

Dollfus.109 Yet none of this mattered: Ford SAF would remain free of
German control for the remainder of the Occupation.
Ford SAF, however, owed its continued independence to more than the
limited scope of the Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen system. In the end, Ford
SAF remained independent because the Germans never found a way to
reconcile their dependence on the willing cooperation of French companies
with their need for sufficient control to ensure that this cooperation was
forthcoming. In overseeing the application of German contracts by French
companies, armaments teams were supposed to provide a measure of
control; but they lacked the resources and expertise to do so. A major
purpose of Speer’s two reorganizations of the economic administration in
France was to strengthen German control by devolving responsibility to
German industries and companies which, by working closely with their
French counterparts, would ensure that French companies gave their max-
imum effort. But as the case of Ford SAF indicates, the Hauptausschuss
Kraftfahrzeug was simply unable to fulfil this mission. As a result, the
German authorities turned to the Patenfirmen and Leitenfirmen system.
Yet, short of seizing direct control of a company, which was not a practical
possibility, assigning a Patenfirma to a French company did nothing to
reduce German dependence on French cooperation.110 The simple fact is
that in the political-economic context of occupied France it was extremely
difficult to compel a company to work wholeheartedly for the German war
effort if the company believed that to do so was not in its best interests.

Assessing Ford SAF’s contribution to the Ford programme

The German historian Peter Leβmann concluded that the Ford-Werke
programme had failed even before the imposition of a Patenfirma because
it offered no advantages to Ford SAF.111 His assessment needs to be
nuanced. Ford SAF did contribute to the Ford-Werke programme, pro-
ducing 2,501 engines in the third quarter of 1943 (slightly over 60 per cent of
targeted production) and 1,991 engines in the fourth quarter (33 per cent of
targeted production). Although at the end of the year the armaments team

109
BA-MA RW 24/32, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstab Frankreich, ‘Beitrag zum
Wochenbericht in der Zeit vom 21.11–5.12.1943’; and BFRC, Ford-Werke, BAL
5734, MbF to RkBfV, 11 January 1944.
110
The case of Volkswagen, which became the Patenfirma for Peugeot in November 1943,
reinforces this point. See Hans Mommsen and Manfred Grieger, Das Volkswagenwerk
und seine Arbeiter im Dritten Reich (Düsseldorf, 1996), 650–76; and Leβmann,
‘Industriebeziehungen zwischen Deutschland und Frankreich während der deutschen
Besatzung, 1940–1944’.
111
Leβmann, ‘Ford Paris im Zugriff von Ford Köln 1943’, 233.
234 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

for Paris-West anticipated a sharp decline in Ford SAF’s output, it later

reported that the company had produced 2,922 engines during the first
quarter of 1944.112 If this figure fell far short of the 6,000 engines foreseen in
the initial programme, it is worth recalling that almost no one on the French
or German side believed that this goal was feasible. During the opening
months of 1944, production continued even if it fluctuated. According to
German figures, in March 1944 Ford SAF produced 271 trucks, 922
engines and 1,019 rear axles; in April 389 trucks, 730 engines and 900
rear axles; and in May 84 trucks and 164 engines (no figures for rear axles
were provided). Although in mid-May 1944 the Germans feared that the
Ford programme was about ‘to come to a standstill’, in June 1944 Ford SAF
still managed to produce 220 trucks and 302 engines.113 Assuming German
figures to be accurate, Ford SAF made a substantial contribution to the
Ford-Werke programme during late 1943 and into the first half of 1944,
though one that fell far short of production targets.
What are we to make of this contribution in light of Lehideux and
Dollfus’ later claims that Ford SAF sabotaged the German war effort by
deliberately under-producing? Throughout the Occupation, Ford SAF
operated under an element of constraint: it could not simply refuse all
cooperation with the Germans without risking severe sanctions, including
the arrest of its directors and even the seizure of its equipment and work-
force. The fact that the French government – and the MPI in particular –
appeared to have thrown what little authority it retained behind the
Ford-Werke programme also ruled out complete non-cooperation. Ford
SAF thus had little choice but to contribute something to the truck
programme. But the company also had more positive incentives for coop-
erating. Financially, in addition to price increases for its products, Ford
SAF received sizeable advances from both the German and French
authorities.114 Although Dollfus would later complain that neither Vichy

112
NARA T 77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris-West, ‘Ubersicht über den Ausstoss der Rü- und
auftragsbetreuten Firmen des Rüstungskommandos P.-West’, undated; and ibid., Rü
Kdo Paris-West, ‘Uberblick über die Berichtzeit vom 1.1. – 31.3.1944’, undated.
113
The figures are drawn from BA-MA RW 24/34, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstab
Frankreich, ‘Halbmonatsbericht für die Zeit vom 16–30.1944’, 10 May 1944; NARA T
77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris-West, ‘Lagebericht für Mon. Mai 1944’, 18 June 1944; and
‘Lagebericht für Monat Juni 1944’, 18 July 1944. For a production standstill, see NARA
T 77/1252, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstab Frankreich, ‘Halbmonatsbericht für die Zeit
vom 1.-15.5.1944’, 20 May 1944. A French report in April 1944 claimed that Ford SAF
was making 200 trucks/week but made no mention of engines. See AN F12/9971, ‘France.
Industrie’, no. 25.381, 25 April 1944.
114
In early 1944, Ford SAF appears to have received an additional advance of 15 million
francs to help it defray the costs of decentralization. See ADY 222W/296, Délégué
régional du Commissaire à la reconstruction to Commissaire à la reconstruction D.T.
R.I.C. R-21, 16 February 1944.
 Assessing Ford SAF’s contribution 235

nor the Germans had kept all their financial promises, it appears that
considerable money flowed into Ford SAF’s coffers throughout 1943
and 1944. Indeed, as late as May 1944, the company accepted a new
German contract for parts for 3-ton trucks worth over 12 million RM.115
Another incentive for participating in the Ford-Werke programme was
that it helped Ford SAF to prepare for the post-war period, which by early
1944 appeared to belong to the near- or medium- rather than to the long-
term future. Most obviously, the truck programme helped to keep Ford
SAF’s factories running (and earning healthy profits) at a time when the
French economy was being ground down by massive shortages. No less
importantly, however, the programme confirmed Ford SAF’s status as a
major player in the French automobile industry – a status that the com-
pany would seek to build upon after the Liberation.
At the same time, several factors worked to dampen Ford SAF’s interest
in participating in the Ford-Werke programme. The overall military sit-
uation constituted one such factor. As the possibility of a German defeat
grew during 1943–4, the company could not avoid questioning the wisdom
of continued collaboration with the occupiers. Allied bombers, moreover,
continued to attack French companies, most notably Renault and Peugeot,
which suggested that the Allies would judge the wartime activities of the
automobile industry as a whole with a stern eye. After 1942, Ford SAF
escaped further air raids, no doubt partly because of the dispersal of its
productive facilities in several sites. For this reason, the company would
continue to resist Ford-Werke’s demands that it centralize engine produc-
tion in one location, despite admitting that decentralized production was
less efficient. But resisting the centralization of engine production was not
simply intended as a safeguard against air bombardment; it can also be seen
as part of a larger divergence of interests between Ford SAF and the
Germans. In this context, a wholehearted commitment to the Ford-
Werke programme made no sense. Indeed, Ford SAF had a clear-cut
interest in limiting its contribution to the Ford programme – especially if
this could be done without provoking the wrath of the Germans.
Another factor limiting Ford SAF’s interest in the Ford-Werke pro-
gramme was the emphasis on making engines and parts for German
trucks. From the beginning, Ford SAF strove to continue to produce
its own French trucks, even if on a reduced scale. Dollfus justified this
position by pointing to the value of keeping workers and machinery

115
NARA T 77/1252, Stabsoffizier des Heeres, ‘Halbmonatsbericht für die Zeit vom 15.-
15.5.1944’, 20 May 1944. For Dollfus’ complaints, see BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2,
‘Ford S.A.F. Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on July 27th, 1944’. Despite the
complaints, Ford SAF finished 1943 with a surplus of almost 37 million francs.
236 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

employed during the transition from French to German production. Yet

this was not the only or even the chief motive. In producing French
trucks, Ford SAF sought to preserve both its favourable position in the
domestic market and its special expertise in this area. Trucks, to recall,
figured prominently in Lehideux’s five-year ‘production programme’ for
the post-war period. Dollfus had consulted closely with Lehideux on
post-war planning, and he could reasonably expect Ford SAF to be given
a major role in the programme. But to exploit this opportunity, the
company would need to maintain and hone its skills in producing
French trucks. That these skills were in some ways unique is suggested
by the ongoing wrangling between Ford SAF and Ford-Werke over the
specifications to be used for various parts. Working to its own specifica-
tions – that is to say, producing French trucks and truck parts – was not
only what Ford SAF knew best but what it believed it would be called
upon to do when the Germans were gone. Until then, however, Ford
SAF resisted German demands that it shift rapidly to making engines
and parts for Ford-Werke trucks. Although precise numbers are not
available, it does appear that Ford SAF continued to produce French
trucks well into 1943, despite earlier promises to stop doing so. This
production, moreover, came at the expense of the Ford-Werke pro-
gramme, partly because it translated into fewer German trucks and
partly because the Wehrmacht continued to shun Ford SAF trucks for
quality reasons.116
All told, then, Ford SAF’s interests pointed in different directions.
If the realities of occupation made it necessary to participate in the
Ford-Werke programme, good reasons existed to limit this coopera-
tion. But does this mean that Ford SAF deliberately under-produced?
Assessing this claim is not easy. The extant records are incomplete, and
for obvious reasons wartime documents, whether from Ford SAF or
the COA, make no mention of sabotaging production. Nevertheless, it
is possible to build a circumstantial case that Ford SAF deliberately
contributed less than it might have to the Ford-Werke programme. Just
as importantly, however, this under-production did not constitute
resistance.
If Ford SAF under-produced, the obvious question is how. One possi-
bility is what might be called direct sabotage – intentional acts to hamper
production by damaging or destroying machine tools and machines, parts
and semi- and finished goods. Although no evidence of direct sabotage at
Ford SAF has been found in German or French police reports, there is the

116
Leβmann, ‘Ford Paris im Zugriff von Ford Köln 1943’, 231.
 Assessing Ford SAF’s contribution 237

intriguing case of Eugène Hug, who for several months worked at Ford’s
Poissy plant during 1940–1. In his memoirs, Hug recounts the numerous
ways he sabotaged production by tampering with various vehicle parts and
mechanisms before assembly. To cite but one example:
You could do it in the assembly process by fucking up the bolts. Instead of using a
dynamometer to measure the tightening force, you used a pipe wrench, over
tightening the crankshaft bolts until you heard a crack in them. Two or three
bolts treated like this would make the crankshaft dance, creating such a loud noise
that the engine would have to be pulled.117

Hug left his job at Ford SAF in April 1941, though it is certainly possible
that other workers continued to sabotage production in clandestine fashion.
This conclusion might seem all the more plausible in light of the company’s
persistent quality problems. If Ford SAF’s trucks were sub-standard,
perhaps one explanation for why is direct sabotage.
There are strong reasons to believe, however, that direct sabotage was
an extremely rare phenomenon not only at Ford SAF but across French
industry. The occupation authorities were hyper-sensitive to this danger.
Indeed, several factors combined to create a presumption of sabotage,
among them: inflated fears of Resistance and especially communist influ-
ence among workers; the acute awareness that the French people in
general resented the occupiers; and a conspiratorial mind-set that was
not confined to the various security forces. In the early years of the
Occupation, German reports spoke of ‘passive resistance’ among
French workers and industrialists, by which was meant a general lack of
enthusiasm for collaborating with the occupiers. During 1943–4, one finds
more and more references to the risks of economic and industrial sabo-
tage. An MbF survey for the last quarter of 1943, for example, remarked
that ‘practical work in production policy is increasingly hampered by
enemy propaganda and terror actions’.118 In February 1944 another report
spoke of ‘precise plans’ to destroy machine tools as well as ‘critical
production’ (Engpaβfertigungen). That communist leaflets increasingly
urged workers to sabotage production no doubt further fuelled the fears
of the Germans.119 By March–April 1944, German armaments officials
were urgently discussing the need to assign security teams to important

117
Eugène Hug et Pierre Rigoulot, Le croque-rave libertaire. Mémoires (1898–1980) d’un
ouvrier du Pays de Montbéliard (Paris, 1980), 179–84.
118
MbF, ‘Lagebericht über Verwaltung und Wirtschaft Oct./Dez. 1943’, 27 January 1944,
emphasis in original. Accessed online at www.ihtp.cnrs.fr/prefets/.
119
BA-MA RW 24/11, Wehrwirtschaftsstab West, Gruppe 1c, ‘Monatsbericht Januar
1944’, 15 February 1944. For communist leaflets, see the file entitled ‘Juillet 1943.
Activité communiste. Copie de tracts’ in ADY 1W/9.
238 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

French factories, even if manpower shortages meant that they could

‘guard’ only 10 per cent or so of the factories so identified.120
Yet, despite their sensitivity to the dangers of sabotage, the Germans
discovered little concrete evidence of its existence. This was partly a
definitional issue. The German authorities defined sabotage in expansive
terms that encompassed a variety of actions that took place well outside of
factory walls: cutting telephone and electrical cables as well as railway
lines, setting fire to German (and French) government installations,
attacking occupation personnel and stealing German goods, including
tobacco.121 This definition meant that direct sabotage of production was
only one type in a larger category of actions that German reports typically
labelled as sabotage. Further reducing the number of potential cases is the
broad nature of the definition of sabotage within factories, which the
Germans conceived of as ‘any expression [by workers] of anti-Germanism’,
a conception which included writing graffiti, distributing tracts and
attending unauthorized meetings, regardless of the agenda.122 But prob-
lems remain even if one limits the meaning of sabotage to the deliberate
damage or destruction of matériel and machines. Distinguishing between
intentional acts and accidents often proved difficult in practice.123
Accidents, moreover, were almost certainly on the rise if only because of
the mounting fatigue of French workers due to longer hours and declining
food supplies. Ultimately, the presumption of sabotage could not hide
the reality that proof was often lacking, which helps to explain why the
Germans tended to discuss the phenomenon in general as opposed to
detailed terms. Indeed, it is striking how rarely German (and French)
reports cited concrete evidence of direct sabotage in factories. If this is
partly because direct sabotage sometimes left no trace, it is even more so
because cases were rare.
But even if direct sabotage occurred more frequently than appears, it
would have been a marginal phenomenon. For it to be otherwise, sabotage
would need to be systematic – it would have to take place on a large scale

120
NARA T 77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris-West, ‘Aktennotiz über die Besprechung in Kino-Saal
des Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstabes Frankreich betr. Werkschutz’, 1 March 1944;
and T 77/1252, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungskommission Frankreich, ‘Niederschrift
über die Sitzung der Rüstungs- und Beschaffungskommission am 14. April 1944’, no.
0013/44, 22 April 1944.
121
The French police employed a similarly expansive definition. See the files on wartime
sabotage cases in APP BA 2306 and ADY 1W/178.
122
SHGR, Louis Renault, 21, Rüstungsinspektion A (Paris und Nordwestfrankreich),
‘Avis. Betr. Sabotageabwehr’, 29 July 1941.
123
For a discussion of this issue in another context, see Talbot C. Imlay, ‘Mind the Gap:
The Perception and Reality of Communist Sabotage of French War Production during
the Phony War, 1939–40’, Past and Present, 189 (2005), 193–207.
 Assessing Ford SAF’s contribution 239

and over a prolonged period. Such an endeavour, however, is highly

implausible in the context of wartime France. Who would organize and
direct it? How would individuals or groups of workers know when to act
and when not to? Perhaps most importantly, how could such an elaborate
plot be kept secret from both the German and French police? Someone
would be bound to talk, even if inadvertently. It is true that the Germans
(and French) lacked the manpower to police most factories. But this does
not mean that they were completely ignorant about what was going on. A
string of suspected sabotage actions at the Peugeot works in Sochaux
between November 1943 and March 1944 did not go undetected, pro-
voking increased surveillance as well as repressive measures by the
Germans.124 In the case of Ford SAF, several German officials were
assigned to its factories while others made frequent visits. The armaments
team for Paris-West, which was responsible for overseeing the Ford pro-
gramme, regularly reported on the numerous difficulties that Ford SAF
encountered during 1943–4. Conspicuously absent from the list was
direct sabotage. Even Wiskott, the Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeug’s dele-
gate, who was no friend of Ford SAF and who accused Dollfus of sabotage
(by which he meant gross incompetence), never maintained that matériel
was being wilfully damaged or destroyed. If any evidence or even suspi-
cion of direct sabotage had existed, he would certainly have cited it in his
indictment.125
All in all, it seems unlikely that direct sabotage significantly affected
Ford SAF’s participation in Ford-Werke’s truck programme. More intri-
guing, however, is what might be called indirect sabotage – that Ford SAF
(and perhaps other automobile companies) deliberately restrained its efforts,
producing less than it could have. In early 1944, a Free French report
claimed that this phenomenon, which it called ‘administrative sabotage’,
was rife in the automobile industry among others.126 Assessing this claim,
however, poses similar problems to those concerning direct sabotage.
Hardly surprisingly, company records contain no contemporary evidence
of plans or orders for under-production. The absence of a ‘smoking gun’,
in turn, underscores the related issues of feasibility and plausibility. To
have a notable impact on output, deliberate under-production has to

124
Marcot, ‘La direction de Peugeot sous l’Occupation’, 37–40; and Loubet, La maison
Peugeot, 251. It is worth noting that Peugeot’s deliveries to the Germans appear to have
held up relatively well during 1943. See AN 3W/234, COA, ‘Année 1943. Livraisons
faîtes aux autorités occupantes’, 7 March 1944.
125
Equally revealing, Schmidt of Ford-Werke never accused Ford SAF of direct sabotage
despite constant complaints about the quality of its products.
126
AN F/1a/3769, Comité français de libération nationale, Commissariat à l’intérieur, ‘Les
sabotages industrielles’, 12 February 1944.
240 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

occur on a significant and prolonged scale; it cannot simply be episodic.

But if so, how was it organized and directed? Who under-performed:
specific groups of workers or all workers; managers and directors; or
everyone? What did these people do or not do? And, once again, could
such a conspiracy to under-produce be kept hidden from the suspicious
eyes of the Germans?
The claim of under-production, however, poses additional problems.
One problem concerns the standard of comparison. After the Liberation,
Dollfus and Lehideux both contended that the most suitable standard
were production figures before France’s defeat, with the sizeable gap
between the pre- and post-defeat figures seemingly demonstrating the
reality of under-production. But this comparison makes no sense. Cut
off from most of its external ties and subject to crippling German exac-
tions as well as to Allied blockade, the French economy during the
Occupation was a shrunken (and shrinking) version of its pre-defeat self.
It has been estimated that France’s GDP dropped from 107 (100=1938)
in 1939 to 60 in 1943 and to 50 in 1944. If one adds what Hein Klemann
calls ‘educated guesses’ for clandestine production, the drop in GDP is
less marked (80 in 1943 and 66 in 1944), but still significant.127 To be
sure, these are aggregate figures and wartime production levels obviously
varied across industries and individual companies. But the basic point
remains true: neither Ford SAF nor the French automobile industry as a
whole could have maintained its earlier output during the Occupation.
Even with the best of intentions, shortages of all types had a deleterious
impact on production. Just as pertinently, Ford-Werke’s truck pro-
gramme came at a time when the French economy was in an accelerated
decline.
The problem, then, is what standard of comparison to use. How does
one determine the production levels that Ford SAF might have achieved –
but did not – during the Occupation and especially during 1943–4?
Production levels must have been lower than pre-defeat ones, but how
much lower? Any figures chosen risk appearing arbitrary. This difficulty is
compounded by the multiplicity of factors influencing production. Even if
one could agree on figures for potential wartime production, it is
extremely difficult to distinguish intentional acts from unintentional
obstacles.128 As German reports make unambiguously clear, during
1943–4 French companies suffered from growing shortages of almost

127
Klemann and Kudryashov, Occupied Economies, 325, 331.
128
Marcot recognizes this difficulty but then largely ignores unintentional obstacles in
arguing that Peugeot manifested ‘bad will’ towards the Germans during the
Occupation. See Marcot, ‘La direction de Peugeot sous l’Occupation’, 32.
 Assessing Ford SAF’s contribution 241

everything: manpower, matériels, transport, energy. At the end of 1943,

the armaments team for Paris-West wrote that Ford SAF urgently needed
almost 1,100 additional workers. But an even greater handicap were
electricity and coal shortages, which affected all factories. During the
last quarter of the year, supplies of both fell every month, culminating in
a forced two-week closure of factories for Christmas. Temporary closures
continued into the first quarter of 1944, though for shorter periods, while
weekend activity grew increasingly limited.129 In December 1943, for
instance, the lack of raw matériels forced the Ford SAF factory at
Bourges to work only every other day and with a reduced workforce.130
If these shortages directly afflicted Ford SAF and other companies, they
also had an indirect impact through their crippling effects on suppliers and
sub-suppliers, many of whose output slowed to a halt. In February and
March 1944, almost every day brought news that yet another of Ford
SAF’s suppliers had ceased production. Even before D-Day the German
armaments staff in France concluded that the Ford-Werke programme
had ‘come to a standstill’ due to shortages.131
Another factor affecting production and over which Ford SAF had
limited influence concerned the morale of its workforce. Mention has
already been made of fatigue and under-nourishment as causes of work-
place accidents. But accidents aside, these factors doubtlessly also low-
ered the productivity of workers. As with other companies, Ford SAF
found itself compelled to provide subsidized food to its workers in work-
place canteens since official rations were neither sufficient nor consis-
tently available.132 But these measures proved inadequate, as is evident
from the growing discontent of workers due to the widening gap between
wages and the cost of living, especially for food and fuel. Despite pressure
from Vichy, the Germans generally resisted wage hikes in order to depress
French living standards, partly in the hope of rendering the prospect of

129
NARA T 77/1263, Rü Kdo Paris-West, ‘Überblick über die Berichtszeit vom 1.10. –
31.12.1943’, undated; and ibid., Rü Kdo Paris-West, ‘Überblick über die Berichtszeit
vom 1.1. – 31.3.1944’, undated.
130
AN F/1a/3769, CFLN, Commissariat à l’intérieur, ‘Conditions du travail dans les usines
françaises’, 19 February 1944.
131
BA-MA RW 24/111, Rü Kdo Paris-West, Kriegstagebuch, 14 February and 14 March
1944; and NARA T 77/1252, Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstabes Frankreich,
‘Halbmonatsbericht vom 1.-15.5.1944’, 20 May 1944.
132
AP, Ford SAF, DOS 2008 RE-30422, Ford SAF, ‘Rapport sur la vie de Ford S.A.F.
pendant la guerre (1er Septembre 1939 – 1er Novembre 1944)’, undated, 15–16. For the
growth of canteens in general, see Grenard, La France du marché noir (1940–1949), 113–
14. For Vichy’s inability to assure adequate food supplies, see Fabrice Grenard, ‘Les
implications politiques du ravitaillement en France sous l’Occupation’, Vingtième Siècle,
94 (2007), 199–215.
242 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

working in Germany more attractive.133 One result was mounting unrest

which included strike action. In October 1943, 600 workers at Ford SAF’s
Ivry factory remained idle for thirty-five minutes to protest inadequate
wages.134 The following month saw work stoppages at Ford SAF’s other
factories, including a more generalized one affecting all companies on the
anniversary of the 1918 armistice. To underscore their grievances, a
delegation of Ford SAF workers delivered petitions to the mayor of
Poissy demanding more food.135 Although impossible to measure, the
deteriorating working and living conditions sapped the ability and prob-
ably also the incentive of workers to work as diligently and industriously as
before. In an influential article, two prominent French historians, Patrick
Fridenson and Jean-Louis Robert, suggested that this unrest on the part of
workers constituted deliberate under-production (freinage).136 But this
conclusion is questionable given the difficulties involved in distinguishing
the intended from the unintended effects of deteriorating conditions.
Work stoppages aside, which were rare and brief events, we do not know
if workers deliberately worked less than they could have. If the petitions of
Ford SAF workers for more food had received a positive response, would
productivity have increased?
In the end, assessing the claims of deliberate under-production poses
considerable challenges. Taken together, the methodological pitfalls and
the dearth of sources provide a recipe for frustration. Yet this is not to say
that the exercise is futile. It is possible to argue that Ford SAF did, in fact,
contribute less to Ford-Werke’s truck programme than it could. One
component of the argument concerns Ford SAF’s interests during
1943–4: as indicated at the beginning of the section, the company had
good reasons to limit its contribution. Another component consists of the
political-economic situation in France at the time. Put simply, the mount-
ing crisis provoked by the generalized impoverishment of matériel, labour
and transport made it possible for Ford SAF to under-produce with little
fear of being detected. Here, what economists call information theory can
be helpful in understanding the dynamics involved. Information theory
focuses on principal–agent relations. The principal is the actor who con-
tracts an agent to furnish some good or service in return for a recompense.

133
On salaries, see Arne Radtke, ‘La politique salariale de Vichy’ in Denis Peschanski and
Jean-Louis Robert, eds., Les ouvriers en France pendant la Seconde Guerre Mondiale (Paris,
1992), 265–75.
134
BA-MA RW 24/110, Rü Kdo Paris-West, Kriegstagebuch, 29 October 1943.
135
See ADY 1W/10, ‘Note’, no. 2621, 11 November 1943; and 1W/11, ‘Synthèse’, 3
December 1943.
136
Fridenson and Robert, ‘Les ouvriers dans la France de la Seconde Guerre Mondiale. Un
bilan’, 142–7.
 Assessing Ford SAF’s contribution 243

At the most basic level, the theory posits tensions due to asymmetric
information: the agent possesses knowledge about his commitment to
fulfilling his contractual obligations (for example, how much and what
kind of effort he will expend) to which the principal is not privy.
Accordingly, the principal strives to design contracts that will reduce
this asymmetry, most often by including conditions regarding the quantity
and quality of goods or services provided by the agent.137
If asymmetric information is a constant in contractual relations, the
asymmetry is arguably greater in crisis situations as was the case of
wartime France. The increase in shortages, bottlenecks and disruptions
all placed an imperative on the débrouillardise of French companies – on
their ability to adapt and to improvise, to be creative and cunning.138 It
was companies who possessed the supply networks, the knowledge of
local conditions and the general know-how that was essential to overcome
the many obstacles to production. From this perspective, the economic
crisis potentially empowered companies such as Ford SAF while also
disempowering the Germans. More than ever, the latter suffered from
information asymmetries: the occupiers needed French companies to do
everything they could to keep producing and yet found themselves
increasingly unable to measure, let alone verify, the extent to which they
did so. Unable to impose an effective system of oversight, the Germans
were forced to rely on positive incentives in the form of high profits and
hefty advances. But if such measures proved effective during the first two
years of the Occupation, the case of Ford SAF suggests that they became
less so by 1943–4. Indeed, they proved counter-productive by reducing
the need for Ford SAF to participate wholeheartedly in the truck
programme.
The growing economic crisis afflicting France thus increased not only
Ford SAF’s interest in limiting its contribution to Ford-Werke’s truck
programme but also its ability to do so. Ford SAF had to produce enough
to keep its factories running and to appease the German (and French)
authorities, but no more. It had no incentive to expend extraordinary
efforts to locate alternative supplies and suppliers, to push its workforce
or even to improve the quality of its products. Given this situation, one can
reasonably conclude that Ford SAF deliberately under-produced during
1943–4. To be sure, concrete proof is lacking, though there are some
indications that the company’s efforts to mobilize the help of the French

137
Macho-Stadler and Pérez-Castrillo, An Introduction to the Economics of Information; and
Przeworski, States and Markets, 55–75.
138
See the comments on the ‘système D’ in de Rochebrune and Hazéra, Les patrons sous
l’Occupation, I, 76–86.
244 The extent and limits of industrial collaboration: 1943–1944

automobile industry, for example, were largely pro forma. But concrete
proof is arguably unnecessary. To conclude that Ford SAF did not under-
produce for the truck programme is to argue that it acted contrary to
its business interests – that it was politically committed to industrial
collaboration whatever the costs. Yet there is nothing in its wartime
behaviour to suggest that this was so.
And this raises another important point: if Ford SAF did under-
produce its conduct did not constitute resistance. Ford SAF’s decisions
and activities were never motivated by any principled opposition to the
occupiers or by a desire to undermine the German war economy. During
the early years of the Occupation, the company had eagerly accepted
German contracts. Dollfus did not object to working for the Germans
but rather to what he perceived to be Ford-Werke’s ambitions. If German
officials in Paris would guarantee Ford SAF’s independence then Dollfus
would collaborate with them, even if he sought to do so on the most
favourable terms possible. What changed during 1943–4 were not
Dollfus’ political convictions but his understanding of Ford SAF’s inter-
ests. This change, together with the opportunities provided by an increas-
ingly chaotic economic situation, made it both sensible and feasible to
under-produce. In this sense and this sense alone is it possible to argue
that Ford SAF sabotaged the German war economy.
Another and related point is in order. Under-production in the sense
described above was likely not limited to Ford SAF. There is every reason
to believe that the dynamics of information asymmetries affected other
French companies as well during the Occupation and especially during its
final phase. This point is worth highlighting given the argument, prom-
inent in the historiography on German businesses during the Nazi period,
that the room for manoeuvre of companies shrunk during the war. In this
view, German companies, facing mounting pressure from the authorities,
became instruments of the Nazi regime’s destructive and hopeless war
effort.139 Nazi Germany was perhaps a special case due to the regime’s
growing ruthlessness at home. Yet it is also true that the regime could not
realistically take over and operate most companies and factories, which
meant that it remained dependent on the willing cooperation of industri-
alists – a dependence that provided the latter with some leverage and
liberty.140 But whatever the situation in Nazi Germany, in occupied

139
For an interesting exchange on this subject, see Hayes, ‘Corporate Freedom of Action in
Nazi Germany’, as well as the response by Buchheim and Scherner, in the Bulletin of the
German Historical Institute, 45 (2009), 29–50.
140
An important exception in Germany (as well as occupied France) were Jewish-owned
companies.
 Assessing Ford SAF’s contribution 245

France at least it is possible that the room for manoeuvre of companies

grew during the war. If so, the politics of industrial collaboration were far
less one-sided than is sometimes depicted.
The Germans themselves appear to have recognized this reality, if
somewhat belatedly. In early 1944, the German authorities announced
their intentions to confiscate heavy machinery from French automobile
factories and to send it to Germany. Lehideux protested vociferously but
was ignored, indicating that the Germans had lost all confidence in him.
But the announcement also amounted to a repudiation by the Germans of
industrial collaboration.141 After four years of effort, the Germans were
moving towards the conclusion that the exploitation of the French auto-
mobile industry could be best achieved without French companies.

141
See the lengthy file in AN 198305896/6 as well as the smaller file in F12/9961.
6 From Liberation to disappearance:
1944–1953

In the later summer of 1944, Paris and its environs were liberated, bringing
to an end over four years of German occupation. If the mood was gen-
erally festive, darker clouds could be detected. Parts of France remained
occupied while in the liberated areas the heavy toll of war and occupation
was all too apparent. Politically, the situation was extremely uncertain: not
only did the French remain divided between Pétainistes and Gaullists
among others, but the reemerging political parties were already competing
fiercely to place their stamp on the post-war regime. No less importantly,
the ongoing process of retribution for wartime activities was bound to
aggravate existing wounds while creating new ones. Many people, mean-
while, lived in outright misery. In January 1944, the individual food ration
had stood at just over 1,000 calories per day, which constituted about one
half the required ration for ‘normal consumers’; it was also the lowest
ration in occupied Europe with the exception of Italy.1 The disruptive
effects of active warfare on French soil during the summer and autumn
exacerbated matters, leaving more people with less food. As for the French
economy, it lay crippled. According to one post-war estimate, the index of
industrial production for 1944 in the metal-working industries, which
included the automobile industry, dropped to 25 (1938=100).2 During
the summer months in particular, production in many factories grinded to
an absolute halt.
But if France’s overall situation was grim in the wake of Liberation that
of Ford SAF appeared far more promising. Overall, the company had had
a good war. In addition to making sizeable profits, Ford SAF had safe-
guarded its independence and had improved its overall position within the
French automobile industry. Maurice Dollfus, who remained its director,
had good reasons to be confident about the future. Yet, less than a decade

1
Hans-Erich Volkmann, ‘Landwirtschaft und Ernährung in Hitlers Europa 1939–45’,
Militärgeschichtliche Mitteilungen, 35 (1984), 31.
2
Institut national de la statistique et des études économiques, Mouvement économique en
France de 1938 à 1948 (Paris, 1950), 211.

246
 A bright future 247

later, Ford SAF would disappear from France, having been sold by Ford
Dearborn to a rival company. Ironically, Ford SAF proved to be far more
skilled in navigating the rapids of wartime occupation than it did in
meeting the challenges of post-war reconstruction. No less ironically,
many of the problems that infuriated the German occupation authorities
would also frustrate officials from Ford Dearborn. Unlike the Germans,
however, the Americans had the option of washing their hands of Ford
SAF.

A bright future
In October 1944, Ford SAF held its first board meeting since the
Liberation. Opening the proceedings, Dollfus happily reported that
German oversight was now over and that all German decrees ‘should be
considered. . .purely and simply as null and void’. At the end of the meet-
ing the board praised Dollfus for his success in overcoming the hazards of
occupation and war:
thanks to the Chairman’s devotedness and will-power the Company, which could
have collapsed during the past four years, was today still full of energy and in
possession of all its assets and this in spite of the fact that it had to suffer ups and
downs that no other industrial concerns in France had to undergo to such a
degree. . .no other had to suffer bombings as well as constant attempts of seizure,
absorption and even spoliation to which it had continually been subjected to
through the occupation period.3
More importantly, the French authorities appeared to agree with the board’s
assessment. In the autumn of 1944, there were encouraging signs that Ford
SAF would not be held accountable for its contribution to the German war
effort. As Dollfus informed the annual meeting in October 1944, while a
‘weeding (épuration) committee’ had been agreed to in the factories, no
Liberation committee had been formed to contest control of the company.
True, in September Dollfus had been arrested for collaboration; but he was
almost immediately released and would remain unbothered thereafter.
A group of French historians have attributed Dollfus’ release to American
influence. ‘The fact of belonging to an American company’, they write,
‘serve[d] as a passport after the war.’ Tellingly, Ford SAF was one of only
two major automobile companies (the other being Citroën) that escaped
post-war investigation by the French authorities.4

3
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, ‘Ford S.A.F. Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on
October 19, 1944’.
4
Patrick Fridenson, Jean-François Grevet and Patrick Veyret, ‘L’épuration dans l’industrie
automobile’ in Marc Bergère, ed., L’épuration économique en France à la Libération (Rennes,
2008), 236, 243, 253.
248 From Liberation to disappearance: 1944–1953

It is far from clear, however, that the Americans played a decisive role in
Ford SAF’s fate in the immediate wake of the Liberation. It is true, as we
shall see, that in late 1944 Ford SAF began to repair tank engines for
the US army, work that perhaps prodded the French authorities to leave
the company alone. But this work was part of a larger Anglo-American
initiative to exploit French industrial capacity for the Allied war effort;
among the companies receiving sizeable contracts, moreover, was
Renault, which was investigated and punished (nationalized) for its war-
time activities.5 More importantly, the American authorities’ attitude
towards Ford SAF was ambivalent. In late 1942, the Treasury department
had launched an investigation into Ford SAF following a despatch from
the American consul general in Algiers regarding the creation of Ford
Afrique. The result was a lengthy and damning report completed in May
1943 that pointed to Ford Dearborn’s tacit complicity in Ford SAF’s
collaboration with the Germans.6 Henry Morgenthau, the Treasury sec-
retary, submitted a summary to Roosevelt, who initially appeared eager to
pursue the matter. Soon afterwards, however, the report was effectively
shelved, no doubt because by 1943 Ford Dearborn had become a major
producer of military matériel and because the administration did not want
to jeopardize war production. Yet, despite the decision not to prosecute
Ford Dearborn, Ford SAF remained the subject of suspicion. A justice
department report thus described Dollfus as a ‘frank collaborationist with
the Germans’.7
Arguably more important than American influence in Ford SAF’s
favourable treatment by the French authorities was the ambiguity sur-
rounding its wartime activities. To recall from the introduction, Lehideux
had been arrested a month before Dollfus on the same charge of collab-
oration, and he would remain imprisoned until July 1946. From the
beginning, Lehideux insisted that he should be viewed as a resister rather
than a collaborator, maintaining that the French automobile industry
under his direction had sabotaged the German war effort by deliberately
under-producing. Ford SAF’s participation in Ford-Werke’s European
truck programme during 1943–4, moreover, constituted a critical

5
In September 1944, the British and American governments set up the Weir-Green mission
to investigate French manufacturing capacity that might be used to help the Allies. A copy
of the Weir-Green mission report may be found in NARA, RG 84, Box 2, folder 850, Weir-
Green report. For Renault, see Loubet, Histoire de l’automobile française, 224.
6
The report is in NARA, RG 131, Box 135, folder Ford SAF et al.
7
For Roosevelt’s initial interest, see Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library, Hyde Park,
New York, Henry Morgenthau Jr Diaries, vol. 636, 25 May 1943; and vol. 638, 28 May
1943. For the justice department, see NARA, RG 60, Box 4, file 146–24–39, memoran-
dum by David Bookstaver, 5 August 1943.
 A bright future 249

component of his defence. But Lehideux was not alone in defending Ford
SAF. In the autumn of 1944, Baron Petiet, the pre-defeat head of the
automobile industry, wrote to the French authorities that during the
Occupation Dollfus ‘had conducted himself principally as a Frenchman
whose vigilant resistance against the enemy manifested itself without
weakness’.8 Meanwhile, other automobile companies also maintained
that they had deliberately under-produced, which no doubt helps to
explain why almost all of them (with the notable exception of Renault)
emerged largely unscathed from the experience of épuration following the
Liberation.9 In this content, sufficient uncertainty existed from the begin-
ning about the nature of Ford SAF’s contribution to the German war
effort to protect the company against accusations of collaboration.
Ford SAF, in any case, had other reasons to be optimistic in the autumn
of 1944. Much to Dollfus’ relief, its physical assets were almost completely
intact. In the weeks preceding the Liberation, the occupation authorities had
begun to requisition heavy machinery as well as large quantities of matériel
from French automobile companies. Ford SAF managed to keep not only
the vast majority of its machines, but also considerable stocks of raw
matériels, partly because the Germans evacuated the Paris region in such
precipitous fashion. During the fighting itself, the factory at Poissy was
shelled twice but sustained little damage. At one point, Poissy was threat-
ened by nearby German military forces who, enraged by the assassination of
a soldier, appeared bent on recapturing and destroying the factory. Thanks
to the determined efforts of the French Forces of the Interior, which
included large numbers of Ford SAF workers, the Germans were forced
to retreat.10 Elsewhere, the buildings of Ford SAF’s Ivry factory were
‘blasted’ by German bombing but the all-important machines and machine
tools were saved. The factories at La Courneuve and Le Bourget suffered
only minimal damage while those at Bourges and Neuilly were unharmed.
Earlier in the war, the Poissy factory had been damaged in Allied air raids.
Repairs, however, had begun almost immediately after the raids, and in the
autumn of 1944 Dollfus was confident that the remaining work would be
quickly completed. Overall, as Ford SAF’s board announced in its annual
report for 1944, ‘spared in its vital parts, [the company] found itself after the
Liberation endowed with a particularly valuable production potential’.11

8
Loubet and Hatzfeld, Les 7 vies de Poissy, 47.
9
Ibid., 248. The authors note that in the automobile industry the confiscation of ‘illicit’
wartime profits was rare and the sums involved insignificant.
10
SHGN 75 E/1435, Brigade de Poissy, ‘Rapport’, 5 September 1944.
11
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 5, Ford SAF, ‘Report of the Board of Directors on Trade
Year 1944’; and ACC 606, Box 2, ‘Ford S.A.F. Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on
October 19, 1944’.
250 From Liberation to disappearance: 1944–1953

The pressing task was to put the potential to work. As with almost all
factories in France, the chaos created by the Liberation forced Ford SAF
to shut down completely. In November 1944, the local police reported
that the company hoped to restart production in January or February
1945. In a matter weeks, Poissy was up and running again.12 A critical
factor in Ford SAF’s fast post-war start was the help it received from the
American army. Although the latter thwarted Ford SAF’s hopes of requi-
sitioning machines from Ford-Werke’s complex in Cologne, which fell
within the American occupation zone, it did allow the company to sell
surplus American army trucks and tractors.13 This measure provided
Ford SAF with an important source of revenue at a time when its financial
situation was difficult due partly to the non-payment of German con-
tracts. But an even greater boost came in the form of a US army contract to
repair tank engines. Armed with this contract, Ford SAF successfully
pressured the French authorities not only to make the repair of its Poissy
factory a priority, but also to supply scarce raw matériels.14 The result was
that production began to pick up in 1945. According to Dollfus, in
January the company produced 282 trucks and another 322 in
February; for the first seven months of the year it made 2,940 vehicles
and assembled another 1,388 using imported parts, for a profit of 2
million francs.15
Ford SAF’s ability to restart production so quickly during 1944–5 was
by no means the only sign of its bright future. Far more important was the
substantial support it received from Ford Dearborn that went well beyond
the supply of parts for trucks. As always, Dollfus had ambitious plans for
the future. In the immediate wake of the Liberation he strove to centralize
production at Poissy. Having received permission in November 1944
from the French authorities to do so, Dollfus quickly closed the dispersed
factories established in the wake of the 1942 air raids and had their

12
SHGN 75 E/1436, Brigade de Poissy, ‘Rapport de synthèse du mois de novembre 1944’
and ‘Rapport de synthèse du mois de novembre 1944’, both undated.
13
For Ford SAF’s hopes to seize machines from Ford-Werke in the spring of 1945, see the
file in AN 19830589/6.
14
ADY 222W/926, Ford SAF to DIME, 3 December 1944; Ford SAF to Commissariat à la
reconstruction, 6 December 1944; and Délégué régional du Ministère de la reconstruc-
tion to M. le ministre, 22 December 1944.
15
Centre des archives du monde du travail, Roubaix 65 AQ N 114, press cutting from
‘Agence quotidienne d’informations économiques’, 14 June 1946, which reports on Ford
SAF’s prospects. Also see the board meetings of 4 January 1945, 16 March 1945, 6
September 1945 and 1 March 1946, all in BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2. Given Dollfus’
penchant for exaggerating current production, it is worth noting French governmental
reports confirm his figures, although it is possible that the latter merely echoed Ford
SAF’s claims. For example, see AN 1983–598/17, ‘Véhicules automobiles. Production du
mois de Février 1945’, undated.
 A bright future 251

machines and tools transferred to Poissy.16 Meanwhile, he proposed a

major expansion of Poissy’s capacity, drawing up plans which included
the purchase of new machines and the building of a foundry which would
make the company less dependent on imported parts.17 Beyond Poissy,
Dollfus had hopes of reanimating the Ford Afrique project, convinced as
he was that North Africa offered a growing market. These projects, how-
ever, required considerable financing, perhaps as much as 500 million
francs, which Ford SAF alone could not provide. And so in December
1944, Dollfus travelled to the United States to convince Ford Dearborn to
recommit itself to its French adventure.
In Dearborn, Dollfus found a receptive audience. Despite some con-
cerns about France’s immediate political and economic prospects, the
Americans concluded that the post-war French automobile industry rep-
resented a favourable opportunity. As a report in early 1946 concluded,
‘all the elements are present to warrant confidence in the future of the
French automobile industry. No effort should be neglected, no assistance
should be refused to give it the means to fight its way to a prompt return to
prosperity.’18 As an initial sign of confidence, Ford Dearborn promised to
supply Ford SAF with parts for 9,000 trucks, the overwhelming majority
of which would be assembled at Poissy. Given the French army’s demand
for these vehicles, Ford SAF could expect to sell them quickly and profit-
ably. More significantly, Ford Dearborn agreed to under-write a French
bank loan for up to 150 million francs in order to tide over Ford SAF while
a larger financial operation was organized. In May 1946, Ford SAF’s
board decided to double the company’s current capital of 262 million
francs by issuing additional shares; when the flotation occurred the fol-
lowing year, it yielded 393 million francs. As was clear from the beginning,
moreover, the success of the financial operation depended in good part on
Ford Dearborn’s backing, without which the shares would have found
fewer takers.19 In the straitened financial situation of post-war France,
American backing was an invaluable asset for Ford SAF – and one that
other French automobile companies did not possess.
Another indication of its bright future was the role that the French
authorities assigned to Ford SAF in their plans for reconstructing the

16
For the recentralization of Ford SAF’s productive capacity, see ADY 222W/926, MPI to
M. le commissaire à la production, undated but November 1944.
17
See the extensive dossier in ADY 222/926, which includes Ford SAF to ministère de la
reconstruction et de l’urbanisme, 27 June 1946.
18
BFRC, FMC, ACC 713, Box 7, ‘Report on the Automobile Industry in France, January –
February 1946’, iv.
19
BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, Ford SAF, ‘Minutes of the Board Meeting Held on May
9th, 1946’; and ACC 1940, Box 2, ‘Notes on Ford S.A.F.’, 5 November 1947.
252 From Liberation to disappearance: 1944–1953

automobile industry. In the wake of the Liberation, the Ministry of

Industrial Production (MPI) assumed authority over the industry, replac-
ing the COA. Almost immediately the MPI drew up a five-year expansion
plan that called for the production of 1,750,000 vehicles by 1950. Named
after a high-ranking ministry official, the Pons plan had as its starting point
the belief that the automobile industry desperately needed to be rational-
ized by lowering the number of producers and of vehicle types and by
reducing the amount of matériels needed to produce a vehicle. This belief,
it is worth noting, was one that Lehideux had fully shared as head of the
COA; indeed, in late 1943 he had proposed his own five-year construction
plan for the post-war period which foresaw continued efforts to rationalize
the automobile industry.20 Beginning where Lehideux left off, the Pons
plan divided the industry into several groups, with each group responsible
for making particular types of cars and trucks. The groups would be
accorded scarce raw matériels in proportion to their needs as defined by
the plan. Noteworthy is the fact that Ford SAF constituted its own group
charged with producing 3.5-ton trucks as well as powerful cars (10–12
horsepower).21 Nothing better illustrates the striking transformation of
Ford SAF’s place within the industry. During most of the inter-war
period, such a position would have been inconceivable: it was of middling-
rank at best and subject to discrimination as a foreign company. By 1945,
it was widely recognized as a leading member of the industry. Admittedly,
Ford SAF was not yet on a par with the Big Three, two of which also
formed their own groups (the exception being Peugeot which was
grouped with three smaller companies); thus, while Ford SAF was given
a five-year production target of 116,000 vehicles, the targets for Renault,
Citroën and the Peugeot-led group were all in the 300,000 range.22
Nevertheless, with the Pons plan, Ford SAF had clearly been promoted
into the top ranks of the French automobile industry.
Ironically, Ford SAF would use its prominent role within the automobile
industry to oppose the Pons plan. Its position is explained by the company’s
visceral dislike of state intervention in the industry – a dislike shared by the
other automobile companies with the exception of the nationalized Renault

20
See chapter 5.
21
CCFA, Min. de la production industrielle, ‘Étude d’un programme de remise en route et
de réorganisation de l’industrie automobile française’, 15 December 1944. Also see Jean-
François Grevet, ‘Au coeur de la révolution automobile, l’industrie française du poids
lourd du Plan Pons au regroupement Berliet-Saviem. Marchés, industries et état en
France 1944–1974’, thèse d’histoire, Université Charles-De Gaulle Lille III, 2005,
57–65.
22
BFRC, FMC, ACC 713, Box 7, ‘Étude du marché faite pour la Guaranty Trust Company
of New York’, undated, 128.
 Darkening clouds 253

works. Due to the concerted resistance of the automobile industry, the Pons
plan was soon shelved. Uncertain how to proceed, the government in 1946
created the Commission de modernisation de l’automobile (CMA), a
mixed government–industry body; prominent among its members was
Dollfus. From his perch in the CMA Dollfus worked to steer the commis-
sion towards a renunciation of state intervention in the automobile industry.
Writing in January 1947 to Jean Monnet, the head of France’s planning
commissariat, Dollfus maintained that the state had no role in the running
of industry, aside from that of ensuring sufficient supplies of various raw
matériels. More precisely, he argued that the question of what type of
vehicles to build should be left to the groups themselves, which supposedly
could now be reduced to four companies: the Big Three plus Ford SAF.
‘For the study and choice of types’, Dollfus insisted, ‘the initiative should be
left to the constructors which, a priori, are best qualified to judge what they
are capable [of making].’23 Dollfus was no doubt pleased with the CMA’s
final report in December 1948, which faithfully reflected the automobile
industry’s views. The report, notes Jean-François Grevet, marked ‘the
abandonment of dirigiste solutions to rationalize production and to con-
centrate authority [within] the industry’.24
Dollfus’ hostility to state intervention is ironic in light of the occupation
period. Ford SAF’s success in fending off the threats to its independence
from Ford-Werke was due in no small part to the help it received from the
COA, which was a quasi-state organization. It is unlikely that the company
would have survived if left to its own devices. But perhaps an even greater
reason for irony concerns the post-war period. The defeat of more ‘dirigiste
solutions’ for the automobile industry does not appear to have benefited
Ford SAF. Only five years after the end of the war Ford SAF’s seemingly
bright future had dimmed. Although the company’s difficulties were not all
of its own making, some certainly were. To survive and prosper in France
and in the French market, it had always needed state support. From this
perspective, a more dirigiste approach by the French state towards the
automobile industry after 1945 was arguably in Ford SAF’s best interests.

Darkening clouds
By 1948, Ford SAF’s situation appeared far less promising than it had in
the wake of Liberation. Some of its problems stemmed from France’s

23
AN 19830589/17, Ford SAF (Dollfus) to DIME, 21 February 1947, which includes a
copy of the letter to Monnet, 21 February 1947. Also see Loubet, Histoire de l’automobile
française, 222.
24
Grevet, ‘Au coeur de la révolution automobile’, 79.
254 From Liberation to disappearance: 1944–1953

overall economic situation in the immediate post-war period. Wartime

shortages did not end with the war, greatly handicapping recovery. In the
spring of 1945, the French authorities thus asked automobile companies
to reduce their production levels by 30 per cent due to shortages of steel
and coal.25 More generally, the government extended wartime rationing
into the post-war period while also seeking to import scarce matériels from
abroad. Imports, however, required hard currency that was unavailable,
and so French companies came under pressure to export their products to
foreign markets where they often faced stiff foreign competition, resulting
in losses. No less problematic were the high levels of post-war inflation.
During 1946, prices rose by 80 per cent; following a four-month halt at
the beginning of 1947, they rose by another 50 per cent during the rest of
the year and by another 25 per cent in 1948. If inflation made exports
more attractive, it made imports more expensive, further reducing the
available supplies of matériels while also fuelling an active black market.
For companies, this situation made short- and medium-term planning
extremely difficult.26
Ford SAF complained, however, that it suffered from deliberate dis-
crimination. In the autumn of 1947, Dollfus accused the French authorities
of reneging on their earlier promise to supply Ford SAF with sufficient raw
matériels to produce 9,000 trucks – the counterpart to Ford Dearborn’s
own promise to supply the needed parts. Rather than receiving more
raw matériels, Ford SAF saw its overall share drop from 13 per cent to
7.5 per cent. The problem, Dollfus continued, was that in calculating Ford
SAF’s needs, the authorities used production figures for 1937–8 as a base;
but at that time Poissy did not exist. ‘The existence of the Ford factory [at
Poissy] has never been taken into account despite our incessant protests.’
Soon afterwards, Dollfus claimed that the other major French automobile
companies were able to produce at 80 per cent of their capacity, while Ford
SAF was at 30 per cent due to shortages of raw matériels. If Ford SAF did
not receive additional contingents of raw matériels, Dollfus threatened, this
would mean ‘purely and simply the closure of our factories’.27
It is difficult to determine whether the accusations of discrimination
were justified. A context characterized by shortages and rationing almost

25
AN 19830589/17, MPI, ‘Note pour monsieur le secrétaire général à la production
industrielle’, 5 May 1945.
26
For inflation, see Alessandra Casella and Barry Eichengreen, ‘Halting Inflation in France
and Italy after World War II’, National Bureau of Economic Research, Working Paper no.
3852, September 1991, 4–5.
27
AN 19830589/17, Ford SAF (Dollfus) to DIME, 6 October 1947, with accompanying
note; Ford SAF (Dollfus) to ministère de l’industrie et du commerce, 19 January 1948,
with accompanying note; and Ford SAF (Dollfus) to DIME, 13 December 1947.
 Darkening clouds 255

certainly encouraged charges of unfair treatment as companies desper-

ately sought to get a larger slice of a limited pie. If Ford SAF’s accusations
were partly a stratagem, it was one that enjoyed occasional success: in
response to Dollfus’ pleas, for example, the French authorities in the
spring of 1948 agreed to a special delivery of truck tyres.28 The French
authorities, in any case, questioned the validity of Dollfus’ accusations,
noting that Ford SAF had not only received a fair share of raw matériels
but also that it was deliberately over-shooting production targets for
trucks in a bid to receive larger contingents.29 None of this, however,
proves that Ford SAF’s accusations were unfounded. It is possible that
the French authorities played favourites in terms of rationing, though
the available sources are too sketchy to permit clear-cut conclusions.30
But perhaps the more important point is that following the Liberation,
Ford SAF quickly found itself as just one French automobile company
among others. Forced to compete for attention, it lacked privileged access
to the French authorities that Lehideux and the COA had provided during
the Occupation.
But some of Ford SAF’s difficulties were clearly of its own making. One
prominent difficulty concerned its choice of vehicle types. Early on, the
French authorities demanded that Ford SAF produce trucks with diesel
engines, making the allocation of raw matériels contingent on it doing so.
But the company had far more freedom when it came to passenger cars.
Before pre-war rearmament altered its calculations, Ford SAF had
intended to offer a small, 4-cylinder car that could be sold at a moderate
price. After the war, it abandoned this project. During his visit to
Dearborn in early 1945, Dollfus saw studies for a larger car, which the
Americans were no longer interested in as it was judged too small in size
for the American market. Dollfus was thus able to purchase its rights for
$200,000. Introduced in France in 1948 as the Vedette, the car almost
immediately proved ill-suited for the post-war French market. In devel-
oping the Vedette, Dollfus had wagered on the appeal of the American
way of life: it was equipped with an 8-cylinder engine and a ‘ravishing
design’ so as to exude comfort and prosperity, two qualities associated
with the United States in the eyes of many Europeans at the time. Yet,
whether or not French consumers wanted the American way of life, they
could not afford it. The Vedette was simply too large, too expensive and

28
AN 19830589/17, DIME to M. le directeur des industries chimiques, 17 April 1948.
29
Ibid., sous-secrétaire d’état à l’industrie et au commerce to Ford SAF, 12 May 1948.
30
Jean-Louis Loubet notes that Renault received over one half of the Marshall plan money
allocated to the French automobile industry. See his ‘L’industrie automobile française: un
cas originel?’, Histoire, économie et société, 18 (1999), 430.
256 From Liberation to disappearance: 1944–1953

too much of a gas-guzzler to attract significant numbers of customers.31

‘We couldn’t sell it’ recalled one employee.32 What makes this misreading
of the French market all the more egregious is that it was Ford SAF’s
alone. As Jean-Louis Loubet has shown in the case of Peugeot and
Citroën, both companies quickly recognized that the future belonged to
small and economical vehicles produced in large quantities and offered at
affordable prices.33 It was a business model that Henry Ford himself
would likely have endorsed.
Unfortunately for Ford SAF, the Vedette also drew attention to the
company’s long-standing problems with quality-control and produc-
tion goals. From the outset, the car suffered from a series of defects that
the company appeared unable to rectify. Concerned about
the situation, Ford Dearborn believed that there was an ‘outstanding
need for the strengthening of the organization on the technical side’ at
Ford SAF. Much like Ford-Werke during the war, Ford Dearborn
proposed to intervene directly in the running of Ford SAF by appoint-
ing American technical advisors ‘who would be specifically responsible
for the coordination and supervision of the functions of engineering,
manufacturing, purchasing, production, planning, and inspection’.
Ford Dearborn also asked that Ford SAF ship a Vedette and a truck
engine to the United States, where American technicians would work
to eliminate the ‘bugs’. Not surprisingly, Dollfus resisted this renewed
threat to Ford SAF’s autonomy, but he could not prevent
the imposition of an American technical director in early 1949 who
would ‘concentrate on the [company’s] manufacturing problems’. 34
Ford SAF’s difficulties, meanwhile, contributed to dampening the
output of the Vedette, which not only gave the lie to the company’s
optimistic projections, but also weakened its declining position within
the French automobile industry. In 1948, Ford SAF had accounted
for a mere 4.5 per cent of total French car production, as compared to
18 per cent for Peugeot, 31 per cent for Renault and 35 per cent for
Citroën.35 The introduction of the Vedette did not alter this situation
as production stagnated, barely rising from roughly seventy vehicles

31
Loubet and Hatzfeld, ‘Ford in France, 1916–1952’, II, 336–9; and Loubet, Histoire de
l’automobile française, 251–3.
32
BFRC, FMC, ACC 880, Box 6, ‘Interview with Jonas Gutzeit, Cologne, July 20, 1960’,
Mira Wilkins.
33
Jean-Louis Loubet, ‘Les grands constructeurs privés et la reconstruction. Citroën et
Peugeot 1944–1951’, Histoire, économie et société, 9 (1990), 453–7.
34
BFRC, FMC, ACC 714, Box 16, ‘Memorandum. General Summary of Position, Ford
S.A.F., with Recommendations’, 22 November 1948.
35
AN 19830589/17, Ministère de l’industrie et du commerce, ‘Répartition de la production
de l’année 1948. Voitures particulières’, 11 February 1949.
 Darkening clouds 257

per day in 1949 to eighty-three in 1952. By then Renault was producing

ten times as many cars.36
Disappointing production, in turn, aggravated Ford SAF’s financial
situation. An examination of the books by an American chartered
accounting firm had warned in June 1946 that ‘the current position. . .is
not favourable’.37 Though doubling its shares in 1947 was meant to
secure the company’s medium-term financial future, this soon proved to
be insufficient. At the end of 1948, Ford Dearborn estimated that Ford
SAF required 1.5 billion francs in 1949 (or roughly $5 million US) to ‘put
the Company on a firm cash basis’; in the absence of considerable addi-
tional financing, it ‘will undoubtedly end up in receivership’. If the
Americans attributed this situation to France’s unstable economy and to
its high inflation in particular, they also blamed the company’s poor
internal management since the end of the war. At the same time, Ford
Dearborn was not yet prepared to abandon Ford SAF. Accordingly, it
responded favourably to Dollfus’ pleas for help: during 1949 a three-part
financial plan was worked out in which 500 million francs would come
from a five-year loan, 500 million from a bond issue and a final 500 million
from a share increase. For the plan to be feasible, Ford Dearborn was
compelled to provide an implicit guarantee for the various parts of the plan
as well as a sizeable dollop of cash.38
But while indispensable, financial help from Ford Dearborn came
grudgingly. Unlike in 1945, this time the Americans supported Ford
SAF without any enthusiasm. Indeed, Ford Dearborn hesitated to invest
more money into the company and only reluctantly decided that it had no
choice. The potential costs of bankruptcy – both financial and reputa-
tional – were deemed too great. As one report concluded:
whether we like it or not, there is only one course open, and that is the provision of
sufficient support to Ford S.A.F. to insure its becoming a sound and profit-making
member of the Ford scheme of things. We might as well accept this conclusion
with good grace, and then immediately and realistically get on with the job of doing
all those things which are required to be done to Ford S.A.F., including providing
the company with that minimum of capital essential to its continued operation.39
In reality, however, this conclusion was accepted with anything but good
grace. Frustrated with Ford SAF’s renewed demand for aid, Ford

36
Figures are extrapolated from Loubet and Hatzfeld, Les 7 vies de Poissy, 70; and Loubet,
Histoire de l’automobile française, 269.
37
BFRC, FMC, ACC 435, Box 1, Report by Haskins & Sells, 1 June 1946.
38
BFRC, FMC, ACC 1940, Box 2, ‘Notes on Ford S.A.F., Poissy, France’, 6 December
1948.
39
BFRC, FMC, ACC 714, Box 16, ‘Memorandum. General Summary of Position, Ford
S.A.F., with Recommendations’, 22 November 1948, emphasis in original.
258 From Liberation to disappearance: 1944–1953

Dearborn embarked on a reassessment of its French operations that

would be dominated by two complementary impressions. The first, as
Mira Wilkins and Frank Hill wrote, was the growing suspicion that ‘you
can’t do business in France’.40 In Ford Dearborn’s eyes, France’s overall
political and economic state no longer appeared promising but highly
risky. The second impression, which quickly crystallized into a certainty,
was that Ford SAF was unsound: as one report tersely concluded, the
company ‘has never been basically successful’. Ford Dearborn estimated
that between 1933 and 1946 it had invested over $4 million in Ford SAF,
receiving only one dividend payment in 1938. As a result, the Americans
began to discuss the possibility of cutting their losses by ‘merging’ (selling)
Ford SAF to another company.41 Discussions on a possible merger were
held in February and March 1948 with Peugeot while Henry Ford II was
in Europe. Although these talks petered out, they did indicate Ford
Dearborn’s dissatisfaction with the status quo in France.42
Significantly, Ford Dearborn decided to reorganize its international
operations precisely at the moment it was reassessing its stake in France.
In 1949, the Ford International Company was created as a subsidiary of
Ford Dearborn; the following year the new company acquired direct
ownership of all existing Ford companies in Europe. Although this had
little direct effect on Ford SAF, since Ford Dearborn already owned a
controlling interest, the indirect consequences would quickly be felt.
Behind the creation of Ford International was the desire to re-impose
more centralized control on the various Ford companies – a control that
the realities of war and occupation had done much to loosen. This desire
was bound to spark transatlantic tensions. For Ford SAF, the priority had
always been on ensuring its autonomy, making it all but certain that the
company would resist stronger direction from Ford Dearborn. Resistance
from the French, however, would likely exacerbate Ford Dearborn’s
frustration, reinforcing the arguments in favour of pulling out of France
altogether.
Still, in 1949, the future remained somewhat open. However reluc-
tantly, Ford Dearborn agreed to help refinance Ford SAF. The immediate
goal was to turn Ford SAF into ‘a sound and profit-making member of the
Ford scheme of things’.43 If this meant providing technical help, it also
included new leadership. Turning sixty-five in 1949, Dollfus expressed a
desire to retire, a step welcomed by the Americans who were determined

40
Wilkins and Hill, American Business Abroad, 393.
41
Ibid., 343; and BFRC, FMC, ACC 1940, Box 2, ‘Notes on Ford S.A.F., Poissy, France’,
6 December 1948.
42
BFRC, FMC, ACC 536, Box 46, Howard report, 5 April 1948. 43 Ibid.
 Reenter Lehideux 259

to choose a ‘competent successor’. As one internal document explained:

‘It is needless to point out that no single factor, particularly at this critical
juncture of the company’s history, will have a greater bearing on the
success and profitability of Ford S.A.F. than the new management.’44
Early in 1949, Ford Dearborn appointed an American official as director
and co-manager who, with Dollfus, would ensure the transition to new
management. But this was meant to be temporary. Ford SAF would need
a permanent director and he would have to be French.

Reenter Lehideux
Despite its dissatisfaction with his performance, Ford Dearborn allowed
Dollfus a large say in who would replace him. And Dollfus chose
Lehideux. In September 1949, Dollfus informed Ford SAF’s board of
directors of his decision to retire at the end of the year and recommended
Lehideux as his successor. Reaffirming his decision to the company’s
general assembly two days later, he added that ‘I don’t think I could
make a better choice’ than Lehideux as general director and president.45
Dollfus did not elaborate on the reasons for his choice of Lehideux, but
wartime events almost certainly influenced his thinking. During the
Occupation, Lehideux had staunchly defended Ford SAF’s independ-
ence, developing in the process close ties with Dollfus. As for Ford
Dearborn, they had no reason to object to Lehideux’s appointment.
Lehideux, after all, possessed considerable first-hand knowledge of the
French automobile industry as well as valuable connections within the
wider world of French industry and finance.
That Lehideux agreed to accept the position is hardly surprising.
During the early post-war years, his future had been in suspense as the
investigation into his activities under Vichy proceeded. Only with the final
dismissal of the case in 1949 could he begin to rebuild his career. Dollfus’
timely offer, moreover, provided an opportunity to get back into the
French automobile industry, which had long been his passion. But
Lehideux was nothing if not ambitious. The task of turning Ford SAF
into ‘a sound and profit-making member of the Ford scheme of things’
was never likely to satisfy him. Although sources are scarce, some sense of
Lehideux’s ambitions for Ford SAF can be gleaned from a thesis his son
Patrick wrote in the early 1950s on Ford as an international company. The

44
BFRC, FMC, ACC 714, Box 16, ‘Memorandum. General Summary of Position, Ford
S.A.F., with Recommendations’, 22 November 1948.
45
BFRC, FMC, ACC 1940, Box 2, ‘President’s Speech. General Assembly Held
September 23, 1949’.
260 From Liberation to disappearance: 1944–1953

thesis began by insisting that Ford SAF was not simply a French company
but part of an international business enterprise; its potential and problems
therefore had to be considered in global terms. More concretely, it proposed
a union of Ford’s European companies in which the most important
activities – research, design, production, marketing and sales – would be
closely coordinated between members. Lehideux-père’s wartime goal of
forging a European automobile industry clearly remained alive, but for
now it would be limited to Ford. The thesis, meanwhile, presented the
project as a possible precursor to, and model for, a European economic
union in which private industry rather than governments took the lead. Such
a union would also solve many of Ford SAF’s immediate problems, not
least its financial woes, since resources would be pooled. More generally,
by ‘coordinating’ their individual efforts, the various Ford companies in
Europe would be able to standardize production methods and products,
improve overall quality and lower prices, all of which would boost sales
and profits. The Fordist dream of mass-produced and affordable auto-
mobiles would finally be realized. No less importantly perhaps, a Ford
Europe would not mean the end of Ford SAF – or of Lehideux’s authority.
‘There will be a need for a certain direction’, wrote Lehideux’s son, which
Ford SAF was best placed to provide.46
If Patrick Lehideux’s thesis reflected even partly his father’s views, then
a clash between Ford SAF and Ford Dearborn was all but certain. Doubtful
about the soundness of their French operations, the Americans were more
interested in limiting than in expanding their stake in France. Yet, regard-
less of Lehideux’s longer-term ambitions, his appointment quickly stirred
tensions. As early as February 1950, the French police reported that a
‘certain malaise’ reigned at Poissy for which Lehideux was held largely
responsible.47 Once appointed, Lehideux replaced the heads of various
departments with close confidants, including Jean-Marie Ricq who had
been the COA’s ‘controller’ at Ford SAF in 1943; in the process, he let go
of numerous long-serving staff members. Even more disruptive was his
decision to lay off 180 workers as a cost-cutting measure. Under Dollfus, the
company had cultivated good relations with the trade unions, a practice
that Lehideux’s unilateral actions completely ignored. The immediate
result was a general strike at Poissy accompanied by the occupation of
the factory as well as by verbal and even physical violence against Ricq and
others. Interestingly, tracts printed by the strikers sought to discredit
Lehideux by pointing to his service under Vichy, equating Lehideux’s
authoritarian style with that of the Pétain regime; just as interestingly, the

46
Patrick Lehideux, Ford entreprise internationale (Paris, 1953), 121, 106–39.
47
APP F5, Ford (Société), untitled report, 18 February 1950.
 Reenter Lehideux 261

tracts did not accuse him of being a collaborator. In any event, Lehideux
was forced to rescind the lay-offs but the strike had nevertheless pro-
foundly poisoned labour relations within Ford SAF.48
Lehideux’s cost-cutting efforts no doubt pleased Ford Dearborn, but
the adverse publicity surrounding the 1950 strike and factory occupation
almost certainly did not. But even more troubling was Lehideux’s impe-
rious approach. Soon after his appointment, Lehideux embarked on an
expansion programme of the Poissy works. Although the programme was
relatively modest in scope, it required funds that Ford SAF did not have,
highlighting anew the company’s perennial financial difficulties. In
November 1950, Lehideux voyaged to Dearborn to discuss a loan guar-
antee. Clearly unhappy, the Americans proposed to send their own
experts to oversee Ford SAF’s financial and manufacturing processes
and demanded to be consulted beforehand on all matters involving addi-
tional spending. Although Lehideux agreed to consider both measures,
back in France he was far less conciliatory. He agreed to solicit the views of
Ford Dearborn in future but nevertheless maintained that any ‘decision at
the end depends upon the President’ – i.e., himself. As for American
experts, Lehideux argued that their presence would undermine the
morale of company employees and the confidence of French financial
markets. As something of a sop, he offered to send one of his officials to
Dearborn to observe American methods. True to his wartime form,
Lehideux threatened to end his collaboration with Ford SAF by resigning
if Ford Dearborn persisted in plans to assign its own experts.49
Lehideux quickly discovered, however, that his threats had less effect on
Ford Dearborn than they had had on the German occupation authorities.
In a blistering response in early 1951, Ford Dearborn called Lehideux to
order. As the majority shareholder, the Americans insisted on being closely
involved in all decisions regarding ‘important matters’. It was simply
unacceptable, the letter explained, that Ford SAF ‘should be operated
merely in accordance with its views. . .and that when the Company became
financially embarrassed, we should be ready to invest additional capital or
lend our credit in support of its efforts to refinance’. In equally blunt
fashion, Ford Dearborn expressed its belief that Ford SAF was markedly
under-performing compared to other Ford companies abroad and that its
wayward ways were largely to blame. The letter reminded Lehideux that

48
For the tract, see ADY 1W/491, Syndicats des métaux de Poissy, ‘Les Usines Ford sont
arrêtées’, undated. For the strike see documents in this file as well as BFRC, FMC, ACC
880, Box 6, ‘Interview with Jonas Gutzeit, Cologne, July 20, 1960’, Mira Wilkins.
49
BFRC, FMC, ACC 1940, Box 4, Lehideux to E. R. Breech (Ford Motor Co.), 16
December 1950.
262 From Liberation to disappearance: 1944–1953

he had been hired to rein in Ford SAF, a reminder that contained an

implicit threat: if Lehideux did not succeed in this task then he would
become dispensable. In the meantime, Ford Dearborn made its approval
of any loan guarantee conditional on a ‘modus operandi to govern the
relationship between your Company and ours, in view of our positions
as members of your Board of Directors, and as representatives of the
holders of a majority of the capital stock’. Ford Dearborn had answered
Lehideux’s ultimatum with one of its own.50
Confronted with Ford Dearborn’s hard line, Lehideux had no choice
but to back down and accept its terms. Over the next two years, however,
Ford SAF’s performance did not improve, a situation that Ford Dearborn
increasingly blamed on Lehideux. A report in September 1952 offered
‘severe criticism’ of ‘Lehideux’s unrealistic policies, lack of cooperation
with the U.S., exaggerated ego and sloppy international administration’.
Equally damning, the consortium of French banks which had extended
considerable loans to Ford SAF had lost all confidence in Lehideux and
had intimated that they would ‘welcome an immediate change in manage-
ment and would particularly welcome assumption of almost dictatorial
powers, on a temporary or permanent basis, by someone sent over from
the Ford U.S. organization.’ Ford Dearborn was also assured that the
French authorities would not oppose the appointment of an American.51
With almost no one left to support him, Lehideux’s days were clearly
numbered. In 1953, Lehideux resigned and Ford Dearborn sent two
officials, Walter McKee and Francis Reith, to run Ford SAF.

The end of Ford SAF

Reith, who became Ford SAF’s general director, sought to reassure
employees that the company’s future as part of Ford’s European empire
was secure. Ford SAF’s precarious situation, he announced in the spring
of 1953, demands ‘all our care’. Ending the year on a promising note, he
declared that Ford SAF had made steady progress. ‘We started off from a
very low position, much lower than many of you no doubt can imagine.
We have not yet reached the top and the slope is steep and the bag is heavy.
But we are on the right path.’52 In reality, however, the opposite was closer
to the truth. The unhappy experience with Lehideux had finally convinced
Ford Dearborn that its French operations were not worth saving. The two

50
Ibid., Ford Dearborn (unsigned) to Lehideux, 24 January 1951.
51
BFRC, FMC, ACC 1940, Box 2, N. A. Bogdan to A. J. Wieland, 8 September 1952.
52
BNF, Bulletin d’information. Publication réservée au Personnel de la Société Ford (S.S.F.), no.
17, March–April 1953, and no. 21, December 1953.
 The end of Ford SAF 263

Americans were therefore instructed to cut costs and personnel in order to

improve the balance sheet so that the company would be more attractive
to potential suitors. The initial idea was to merge Ford SAF with Citroën,
Renault or Panhard, but none of these possibilities worked out. After
lengthy negotiations, in 1954 Ford Dearborn concluded a deal with
SIMCA, the Italian-owned company. In exchange for a minority share
position with SIMCA, the Americans transferred their majority owner-
ship of Ford SAF.53 Poissy would thus remain in operation but Ford had
withdrawn from France.

53
Loubet and Hatzfeld, ‘Ford in France, 1916–1952’, 352–4.
 Conclusion

This book has had two subjects. One is the story of Ford SAF, especially
during the wartime period from 1940 to 1944. In many ways, this is a
straightforward business history that examines the company’s activities in
the larger political context of wartime occupation. The emphasis is on
Ford SAF’s perceived interests as well as on how the evolution of these
interests influenced decisions regarding the company’s productive efforts
on behalf of the Germans. The second subject concerns the politics of
industrial collaboration in occupied France. This is a much larger subject
and one that shifts attention away from a focus on Ford SAF. Several of
the preceding chapters thus contain extended discussions on German and
French policy in particular in which Ford SAF recedes from view.
Combining these two subjects in one book admittedly posed challenges,
chiefly due to the two-way relationship between them. Attention to the
politics of industrial collaboration provides much-needed context for
Ford SAF’s wartime activities. From the beginning, the company’s his-
tory was embedded in the larger political-economic history of occupied
France. Ford SAF’s productive potential attracted the attention not just of
the German occupation authorities but also of Ford-Werke, significantly
augmenting the stakes involved in the company’s performance. At the
same time, Ford SAF’s wartime history helps to highlight some of the
underlying dynamics at work in the industrial realm. If, in the end,
the book falls short of seamlessly integrating the two subjects, we hope
at least that each subject has received its proper due.

Ford SAF and the ironies of history

In examining the history of Ford SAF from its founding in the 1920s to its
sale in the 1950s, several ironies emerge. One concerns national identity.
Although majority owned by Ford Dearborn, for much of the inter-war
period Ford SAF sought to downplay its American connection. At a time
of growing economic nationalism, which manifested itself in discrimina-
tory measures such as tariffs, Ford SAF strove to present itself as a French
264
 Ford SAF and the ironies of history 265

company. Its efforts met with little success until the late 1930s, when the
needs of rearmament prompted the French government to set aside its
protectionist impulses and to award sizeable contracts to Ford SAF for
trucks as well as for airplane engines and cannon. In producing war
matériel for France, Ford SAF became a de facto French company.
With France’s military defeat and occupation, Ford SAF was once again
threatened with discrimination, this time from the Germans who viewed it
as a foreign and (after December 1941) as an enemy company. Thanks to
the determined support of Lehideux and the COA, however, the Germans
agreed to treat Ford SAF as a French company for most of the
Occupation. This status not only allowed Ford SAF to contribute to the
German war effort but also helped it to emerge as a leading member of
the French automobile industry. The company even enjoyed a say in
planning the automobile industry’s future. During the post-war period,
Ford SAF’s American identity returned to prominence, partly because
growing financial and manufacturing difficulties made the company
dependent on Ford Dearborn. This dependence proved fatal when the
latter decided to cut its losses and withdraw from France. In the end, Ford
SAF, the affiliate of an American multinational, was most successful when
it could pass as a French company.
Another irony concerns Ford SAF’s place in Ford’s European empire.
Ford SAF owed its existence to Ford Dearborn, which kept a firm hand on
its foreign affiliates during the inter-war years. From the beginning, Ford
SAF endeavoured to win greater autonomy. A key element in its ambi-
tions was the plant at Poissy begun in the late 1930s. With Poissy, Ford
SAF would no longer be a company that assembled vehicles, dependent
on the import of parts from the Ford empire; instead, it would be a
manufacturer whose network of suppliers and sub-suppliers was chiefly
French. In Ford SAF’s bid for autonomy, rearmament proved to be
extremely beneficial. Hefty advances from the French government pro-
vided much-needed financing for the construction of Poissy. No less
importantly, rearmament generated tensions between Ford SAF and
Ford Dearborn as the Americans did not disguise their reservations
regarding the making of war matériel. War and occupation drove the
two further apart: by mid-1942, Ford SAF was effectively cut off from
Ford Dearborn. But if Ford SAF was now autonomous vis-à-vis Ford
Dearborn, the company faced a new threat from Ford-Werke. Seizing the
opportunity presented by the Wehrmacht’s military successes, Ford’s
German affiliate sought not only to exploit Poissy’s productive capacity
but also to establish its long-term control over Ford’s continental empire.
With the COA’s backing, Ford SAF succeeded in maintaining its inde-
pendence from Ford-Werke. The company, however, would fail to
266 Conclusion

preserve its hard-won autonomy during the post-war period when, faced
with growing difficulties, it fell back into Ford Dearborn’s orbit.
Throughout its existence Ford SAF strove to reduce its ties to Ford
Dearborn, but managed to do so only under the emergency conditions
of rearmament, war and occupation, and only at the price of dependence
on French authorities.
A final irony regards Ford SAF’s intended market. The company was
created to assemble vehicles for the French civilian market, the idea being
that Ford would enjoy a competitive advantage in terms of quality and
price. During most of the inter-war period, however, Ford SAF struggled
to carve out a place for itself in the French market: profits and sales were
disappointing and the company remained a minor player in the industry.
The onset of French rearmament prompted Ford SAF to abandon the
civilian market in favour of the military market – a market in which the
government was a monopoly consumer and in which Ford SAF faced little
competition from other automobile companies, most of which were also
involved in rearmament. This situation continued during the Occupation,
only now Ford SAF contributed to the German rather than the French
war effort. But regardless of whether the customer was French or German,
producing war matériel for the state proved to be a major boon for the
company. With the end of the war, Ford SAF reverted to making vehicles
chiefly for the French civilian market. Significantly, it once again failed in
the attempt as production, sales and profits quickly fell. Before long, the
company had lost its status as a major player in the French automobile
industry. Rather than the embodiment of American free market enter-
prise, Ford SAF is best seen as a dependant of wartime state capitalism.

The limits of industrial collaboration

If Ford SAF’s history stretching from the 1920s to the 1950s contains
several ironies, the book’s focus is on the politics of wartime industrial
collaboration. From the beginning, the German occupiers set out to har-
ness France’s industrial potential to their war effort. For a long time, the
dominant impression was that the Germans had enjoyed considerable
success in this endeavour. Much of French industry worked for the
occupiers. In the case of the automobile industry, the Germans received
some 85 per cent of its output. In recent years, however, scholars have
challenged the idea of German success, emphasizing that overall produc-
tion in France (and in Western Europe) dropped sharply under occupation.
Jonas Scherner’s work on wartime import statistics indicates that France’s
industrial contribution to Germany fell by some 40 per cent between 1942
and 1944, a drop surpassed only by Belgium (48 per cent) among the
 The limits of industrial collaboration 267

major occupied economies.1 If the Germans captured a large part of the

productive pie, it was a pie that had considerably shrunk.
Following Scherner, the key question is not how much the Germans
took but why they failed to exploit more thoroughly the industrial poten-
tial of occupied Europe and of France in particular. A number of factors
explain Germany’s limited success, among them: the effects of the British
blockade; the crippling shortages of raw matériels, especially coal and
steel; and the conflicting priorities between different occupation author-
ities. But while these were all significant, the history of Ford SAF suggests
that macro-level analyses can be usefully complemented by a more micro-
level approach. Roughly speaking, the course of Ford SAF’s output during
the Occupation mirrored that of France as whole: a steady rise after 1940
which peaked in 1942 (in Ford SAF’s case in the early months of 1942
before the British air raids), followed by a sharp decline during 1943–4.
Although Ford SAF was merely one company among many working for the
Germans, its experience offers insights into the larger subject of industrial
collaboration in occupied France.
One insight concerns the room for manoeuvre of French companies. As
the case of Ford SAF suggests, French companies enjoyed considerable
freedom. Although they could not realistically refuse to work for the
Germans, the terms under which they did so were negotiable. Generally
speaking, in their dealing with French companies the Germans applied a
contractual model that relied not on coercion but on incentives (most
notably attractive profits) to stimulate business activity. Several reasons
account for this choice but prominent among them was the fact that the
Germans lacked the personnel and expertise to take over and run French
factories. In this sense, they were dependent on the goodwill of French
industrialists and workers. While this is perhaps self-evident, the experi-
ence of Ford SAF suggests a less obvious point: that the room for
manoeuvre of French companies increased during the Occupation. The
deepening economic crisis, characterized by massive shortages of almost
all factors of production, placed increasing emphasis on the flexibility,
adaptability and resourcefulness of French companies. They
alone possessed the knowledge and practical skills needed to overcome
the numerous obstacles to production. At the same time, the ability of the
Germans to verify the activities of French companies declined; they had
little means of determining whether French companies were working
wholeheartedly – were manifesting the débrouillardise so essential in a
situation of economic crisis. This growing information asymmetry

1
Scherner, ‘Der deutsche Importboom während des Zweiten Weltkriegs’, 112–13.
268 Conclusion

between the German authorities and French companies empowered the

latter, providing them with a substantial say in determining the extent to
which they worked for the Germans.
The increasing room for manoeuvre of French companies during the
Occupation points to another insight: their declining interest in industrial
collaboration. Significantly, there appears to be a growing consensus
among French business historians that numerous French companies
resisted the Germans, chiefly by deliberately under-producing. Laurent
Dingli, François Marcot and Jean-Louis Loubet have advanced this argu-
ment either for the automobile industry as a whole or for particular
companies.2 For the most part, the argument is based on a comparison
of production figures before and after France’s defeat, with the sharp drop
during the Occupation years supposedly indicating intent. Such a com-
parison, however, is flawed: France’s economy as a whole shrivelled after
1940, which meant that automobile companies could not have attained
pre-defeat output levels even with the best of intentions. Yet this does not
necessarily mean the argument of under-production should be rejected.
As chapter 5 explains, a circumstantial case can be made that Ford SAF
did not participate wholeheartedly in Ford-Werke’s European truck pro-
duction programme during 1943–4. Benefiting from sizeable German
and French advances and well aware that the Allies would hold it account-
able for aiding the occupiers, Ford SAF had good reasons to scale back its
effort. The Germans, meanwhile, were in no position to assess the com-
pany’s activities, making it possible for Ford SAF to under-produce with
little fear of getting caught. All told, by 1943 Ford SAF had no compelling
interest to participate wholeheartedly in the truck programme. Given this
situation, it is reasonable to conclude that the company did sabotage the
German war effort by deliberately under-producing. That said, this
under-production should not be viewed as resistance. Ford SAF was
never opposed in principle to producing for the Germans. All indications
are that the company worked full-out for the occupiers during 1940–2,
producing as many trucks as it could. Afterwards, it was not so much that
Ford SAF’s politics altered as it was that the larger political-economic
context of the war had evolved, altering the company’s understanding of
its interests and possibilities.
Admittedly, it is always hazardous to generalize from one case. Ford
SAF was only one company among many in occupied France. At the same
time, there is no reason to believe that it perceived its interests in a
fundamentally different manner from that of other French companies. It

2
Dingli, Louis Renault; Loubet, La Maison Peugeot; and Marcot, ‘La direction de Peugeot
sous l’Occupation’.
 The limits of industrial collaboration 269

does not appear that Ford SAF was particularly imprudent or partisan.
And if Ford SAF was unexceptional in this sense then it is unlikely that its
experience was unique. If the Germans failed to exploit French industry
more thoroughly, one reason is because French companies deliberately
under-produced. And what is true of French companies is perhaps also
true of companies elsewhere in occupied Europe. As Adam Tooze has
shown, it was not simply that the conquest of Western Europe did not pay;
it was also that Nazi Germany’s war of expansion mobilized a global
coalition against it whose industrial strength dwarfed that of continental
Europe.3 If Germany had any hope of prevailing, it needed the
wholehearted cooperation of firms such as Ford SAF. This the occupiers
did not obtain during the critical final phase of the Occupation in 1943–44.

3
Tooze, The Wages of Destruction, 411–25.
 Appendix A: Ford operations in France
1929 – June 1946 (all figures in French francs,
bracketed years represent losses)

270
 Commercial Dividends
Ford SAF Sales Costs Other revenue expenses Other charges Net received
1929 266,988,592.69 210,423,568.09 686,813.48 14,376,750.52 8,879,005.81 33,996,081.75 –
1930 290,737,308.69 232,932,048.94 4,724,129.67 21,040,732.46 7,377,510.93 34,111,145.03 –
1931 230,581,464.78 191,370,199.91 4,134,033.77 24,536,103.42 3,701,529.58 15,107,665.74 –
(1932) 200,175,428.49 186,842,153.99 3,432,484.00 22,783,390.72 543,143.60 −6,560,766.82 –
(1933) 160,618,752.28 150,774,585.07 2,410,576.36 24,110,973.39 8,916,138.62 −20,772,368.44 –
1934 170,532,461.75 143,389,638.73 2,302,312.68 18,686,286.24 6,146,046.97 4,612,802.49 –
(1935) 230,377,191.33 209,487,379.75 11,792,946.56 27,978,245.44 10,766,182.44 −6,061,669.74 –
1936 293,391,730.76 264,306,101.34 9,824,614.67 30,000,600.69 4,542,490.91 4,367,152.49 –
1937 449,871,518.88 407,265,917.58 14,175,771.61 34,954,008.03 14,423,733.74 7,403,631.14 –
(1938) 395,513,847.33 370,646,720.57 14,257,611.54 35,973,147.37 4,406,609.03 −1,255,018.10 708,882.69
(1939) 261,496,609.11 240,376,203.81 7,124,602.53 33,209,026.38 4,490,178.84 −9,454,197.39 –
1940 406,531,960.77 366,481,696.17 11,496,248.69 39,780,584.34 6,547,375.87 5,218,553.08 –
1941 1,075,087,518.69 932,438,307.70 5,299,424.47 79,110,984.18 46,297,326.53 22,540,324.75 –
1942 502,229,736.30 447,968,484.04 6,787,038.00 52,205,979.30 6,447,760.54 2,394,550.42 –
1943 592,854,374.79 503,529,430.07 2,976,762.52 49,001,961.34 41,678,743.54 1,621,002.36 –
1944 630,023,321.80 512,507,881.16 14,664,447.04 69,237,752.82 62,942,134.86 0 –
1945 1,591,077,483.15 1,308,009,087.06 21,798,612.04 117,088,001.07 187,779,007.06 0 –
June 1946 2,258,303,429.00 1,979,135,429.26 6,124,521.35 79,703,437.25 28,657,963.84 176,931,120.00 –

Source: BFRC, FMC, ACC 507, Box 71, undated but 1946, Table from FMC, ‘Manuf & Assembly, Poissy 1945–1946, France Analysis of Ford
Investment, Sales, Costs, Profits, etc, ’46’.
 Appendix B: Ford SAF’s production during
the Occupation

Trucks

Trucks
5-ton trucks 3-ton trucks 1-ton trucks (unspecified) Total
a
July–Dec. 1940 1,080 1,080a
1941 1,536a 2,106 a
55 a
3,697a
Jan.–2 Apr. 210a 830a 1,040a
1942
2 Apr.–15 June 1942 No No No No No
productionc productionc productionc productionc productionc
15 June–Aug.
1942 645b 645b
Sept.–Dec. 1,487b 1,487b
1942
Jan.–June 1943 724b 724b
Jan.–Mar. 1944 821a 821a
Apr.–June 1944 693a 693a

Engines and parts (deliveries versus programme)

Engines Rear axles Parts

a a
July–Dec. 1940 924 /1,600 935 /1,600 1,600a/1,600
1941 4,109a/3,700 4,173a/3,700 4,000a/4,000
Jan.–June 1942 812a/2,200 800a/2,200 2,200a/2,200
Sept.–Dec. 1942 584b 2,281b
Jan.–Feb. 1943 580b 1,460b
July–Sept. 1943 2,501a/4,000
Oct.–Dec. 1943 1,991a/6,000

272
 Appendix B 273

(cont.)

Engines Rear axles Parts

a
Jan.–Mar. 1944 2,922
Apr.–June 1944 1,196a

a
Delivered to the Germans
b
Produced
c
Poissy was knocked out of production due to RAF bombing on 2 April 1942. Production
resumed on 15 June 1942.
Sources: AN AJ 40/610, ‘Bericht des stellvertretenden Verwalters für die Firma Ford Société
Anonyme Française. . .über die Gesellschaft nach dem Stand von Juli 1942’, 6 August 1942;
AN 3W/227, Ford SAF to COA (L’Epine), 5 March 1943; AN 3W/228, Ford SAF,
memorandum, 21 June 1943; various reports from Rü Kdo Paris-West in NARA T 77/1263;
and BFRC, FMC, ACC 606, Box 2, Ford SAF minutes of board meeting of 30 September
1942.
 Bibliography

I PRIMARY SOURCES
a archives
i France
Archives de la préfecture de police, Paris
Ford SAF
François Lehideux
Police files
Archives départementales d’Yvelines, Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines
Série W
Archives nationales, Paris
3W, Haute cour de justice
AJ 40, Archives allemandes de l’occupation
AJ 41, Organismes issus de l’armistice de 1940
AJ 72, Papiers du Comité d’histoire de la Deuxième Guerre Mondiale et fonds
privés relatifs à la période 1939–45
F 1, Ministère de l’intérieur
F 12, Ministère du commerce et de l’industrie
F 37, Commissions financières
F 60, Secrétariat général du gouvernement et services du premier ministre
Z, Judicial Investigations
Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris
Various documents
Centre d’Archives de Terre Blanche (Peugeot), Herimoncourt
Archives Patrimoniales de PSA Peugeot Citroën
Ford SAF
Centre des archives du monde du travail, Roubaix
65 AQ: Association nationale des porteurs français de valeurs mobilières
Centre des archives économiques et financières, Savigny-le-Temple
Affaires économiques
Comité des constructeurs français d’automobiles, Paris
Archives
Ministère des Affaires étrangères, La Courneuve
Vichy

274
 Bibliography 275

Service historique de la gendarmerie nationale, Vincennes

Poissy
Société d’histoire du groupe Renault, Boulogne-Billarcourt
Archives SHUR
Louis Renault

ii Germany
Archiv der Mercedes-Benz AG, Stuttgart
Bestand Haspel
Bestand Kissel
Bundesarchiv, Berlin-Lichterfelde
R 2, Reichsfinanzministerium
R 3, Reichsministerium für Rüstung und Kriegsproduktion
R 26 I, Beauftragter für den Vierjahresplan (Zentrale)
R 26 VII, Bevollmächtigter für das Kraftfahrzeugwesen
R 87, Reichskommissar für die Behandlung feindlichen Vermögens
R 2501, Deutsche Reichsbank
R 3001, Reichsjustizministerium
R 3101, Reichswirtschaftsministerium
Bundesarchiv-Militärarchiv, Freiburg im Breisgau
RW 19, OKW/Wehrwirtschafts- und Rüstungsamt
RW 21–35, Rüstungskommando Köln
RW 24, Rüstungsdienststellen in Frankreich
RW 35, Militärbefehlshaber Frankreich und nachgeordnete Dienststellen
Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, Berlin
Botschaft Paris
Handakten Ritter
Various files
Sächsisches Staatsarchiv, Chemnitz
Auto Union AG

iii United Kingdom

The National Archives UK, Kew Gardens
Ministry of Economic Warfare, FO 837
Foreign Office: Private Office Papers of Sir Anthony Eden, FO 954

iv United States
Benson Ford Research Center, the Henry Ford Museum, Dearborn,
Michigan
FMC, Accession 1, Fairlane Papers
FMC, Accession 6, Edsel B. Ford Office Papers
FMC, Accession 38, Sorensen Papers
FMC, Accession 46, Executive Correspondence
276 Bibliography

FMC, Accession 58, Henry Ford Office, Sir Percival Perry – Foreign Branch
Operations
FMC, Accession 65, Oral History Project, Series I
FMC, Accession 118, Financial Records Collection, Auditing Department
Records Subgroup, Foreign and Domestic Branch Records Series, Personnel
Reports Subseries, 1926–40
FMC, Accession 285, Henry Ford Office 1938
FMC, Accession 334, Foreign Corporation Records Series, Matford S.A.
1934–46
FMC, Accession 415, Branch Operations – Foreign
FMC, Accession 507, International Records Collection, Manufacturing and
Assembly Department Records Series
FMC, Accession 572, Nevins and Hill Research
FMC, Accession 606, Foreign Corporation Records Series, Ford Motor
Company SAF 1929–54
FMC, Accession 708, Financial Records Collection, Auditing Department Records
Subgroup, Foreign Branch Records Series, Banking Statements Subseries
FMC, Accession 710, Financial Records Collection, Auditing Department Records
Subgroup, Foreign Branch Records Series, Treasury Reports Subseries
FMC, Accession 712, International Records Collection, Purchasing Department
Records Series
FMC, Accession 713, Russell I. Roberge Series
FMC, Accession 714, Manufacturing and Assembly Dept. F. J. Cort files
FMC, Accession 718, Russell I. Roberge Series
FMC, Accession 834, Allan Nevins – Lord Perry Interview
FMC, Accession 880, Mira Wilkins Notes
FMC, Accession 949, Office of the Secretary, Hermann L. Moekle Records Series
Ford-Werke Under the Nazi Regime
Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library, Hyde Park, New York
Henry Morgenthau Jr Diaries
National Archives and Record Administration, College Park, Maryland
RG 60, Department of Justice
RG 84, Department of State, Foreign Service Posts
RG 131, Treasury Department, Foreign Funds Control
T 73, Captured German documents on microfilm
T 77, Captured German documents on microfilm
Pierpont Morgan Library, New York
Morgan Bank’s European Papers

b diaries, memoirs and published primary sources

Belin, René. Du Secrétariat de la CGT au gouvernement de Vichy. Paris: Albatros 1978.
Délégation générale du Gouvernement français dans les territoires occupés,
‘L’opinion publique en zone occupée et certains aspects de l’attitude alle-
mande. Gravité de la situation’, 16 October 1940. Accessed online: www.
ihtp.cnrs.fr/prefets/.
 Bibliography 277

France. La Délégation française auprès de la Commission allemande d’armistice.

Recueil de documents publié par le Gouvernement français. vol. I, Paris
1947.
France. Institut national de la statistique et des études économiques, Mouvement
économique en France de 1938 à 1948. Paris 1950.
Hug, Eugène and Pierre Rigoulot. Le croque-rave libertaire. Mémoires (1898–1980)
d’un ouvrier du Pays de Montbéliard. Paris 1980.
Jacobsen, Hans-Adolf, ed. Kriegstagebuch des Oberkommandos der Wehrmacht
(Wehrmachtführungsstab) Band 1/2 1. August 1940 – 31. Dezember 1941.
Munich 1982.
Lehideux, François. De Renault à Pétain. Mémoires. Paris: Pygmalion 2002.
Lehideux, Patrick. Ford entreprise internationale. Paris: Presses Universitaires de
France 1953.
Middlebrook, Martin and Chris Everitt, eds. The Bomber Command War Diaries.
Hinckley: Midland 1996.
Sorensen, Charles E. My Forty Years with Ford. New York: Wayne State University
Press 1956.

II SECONDARY SOURCES
Aly, Götz. Hitlers Volksstaat. Raub, Rassenkrieg und nationaler Sozialismus.
Frankfurt am Main: S. Fischer 2006.
Andrieu, Claire. La Banque sous l’Occupation. Paradoxes de l’histoire d’une profession.
Paris: Presses de la Fondation nationale des sciences politiques 1990.
Badie, Bertrand. ‘Les grèves du Front Populaire aux usines Renault’, Mouvement
Social, 81, 1972, 69–109.
Bähr, Johannes and Ralf Banken. ‘Ausbeutung durch Recht? Einleitende
Bermerkungen zum Einsatz des Wirtschaftsrechts in der deutschen
Besatzungspolitik 1939–1945’ in Johannes Bähr and Ralf Banken, eds., Das
Europa des ‘Dritten Reichs’: Recht, Wirtschaft, Besatzung. Frankfurt am Main:
Vittorio Klostermann 2005.
Balcar, Jaromír and Jaroslav Kučera. ‘Nationalsozialistische Wirtchaftslenkung
und unternehmerische Handlungsspielräume im Protektorat Böhmen und
Mähren (1939–1945)’ in Christoph Buchheim and Marcel Boldorf, eds.,
Europaïsche Volkswirtschaften unter deustcher Hegemonie. Munich:
Oldenbourg 2012.
Banken, Ralf. ‘Kurzfristiger Boom oder langfrisriger Forschungsschwerpunkt?
Die neuere deutsche Unternehmensgeschichte und die Zeit des Nati-
onalsozialismus’, Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht, 56, 3, 2005,
183–96.
Bardou, Jean-Pierre et al. The Automobile Revolution: The Impact of an Industry.
Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press 1982.
Beltran, Alain, Robert Frank and Henri Rousso, eds. La vie des entreprises sous
l’Occupation. Paris: Gallimard 1994.
Billstein, Reinhold, Karola Fings, Anita Kugler and Nicholas Levis. Working for
the Enemy: Ford, General Motors, and Forced Labour in Germany during the
Second World War. New York: Berghahn 2000.
278 Bibliography

Black, Edwin. IBM and the Holocaust. Washington: Crown Books 2001.
Boelcke, Willi A., ed. Deutschlands Rüstung im Zweiten Weltkrieg. Hitlers
Konferenzen mit Albert Speer 1942–1945. Frankfurt am Main: Akademische
Verlagsgesellschaft Athenaion 1969.
Böhler, Jochen. Auftakt zum Vernichtungskrieg. Die Wehrmacht in Polen 1939.
Frankfurt am Main: Fischer 2006.
Boldorf, Marcel. ‘Les effets de la politique des prix sur la consommation’ in
Sabine Effosse, Marc de Ferrière le Vayer and Hervé Joly, eds., Les entreprises
de biens de consommation sous l’Occupation. Tours: Les Presses Universitaires
François Rabelais 2010.
‘Die gelenkte Kriegswirtschaft im bestetzten Frankreich (1940–1944)’
in Buchheim and Boldorf, eds., Europaïsche Volkswirtschaften unter deutscher
Hegemonie.
‘Neue Wege zur Erforschung der Wirtschaftsgeschichte Europas unter natio-
nalsozialistischer Hegemonie’ in Buchheim and Boldorf, eds. Europäische
Volkswirtschaften unter deutscher Hegemonie.
Boldorf, Marcel and Jonas Scherner. ‘France’s Occupation Costs and the War in
the East: The Contribution to the German War Economy, 1940–4’, Journal of
Contemporary History, 47, 2, 2012, 291–316.
Bonin, Hubert. ‘Peut-on imaginer des banquiers patriotes et résistants
(1940–1944)?’, Guerres mondiales et conflits contemporains, 243, 3, 2011, 45–58.
Bonin, Hubert and Ferry de Goey, eds. American Firms in Europe: 1880–1980.
Geneva: Droz 2009.
Bonin, Hubert, Yannick Lung and Steven Tolliday, eds., Ford, 1903–2003: The
European History. 2 vols. Paris: Plage 2003.
Brinkley, Douglas. Wheels for the World: Henry Ford, his Company and a Century of
Progress 1903–2003. New York: Penguin 2004.
Browning, Christopher R. The Origins of the Final Solution: The Evolution of Nazi
Jewish Policy, 1939–1942. London: Arrow 2005.
Brun, Gérard. Technocrates et technocratie en France 1918–1945. Paris: Albatros 1985.
Buchheim, Christoph. ‘Die Besetzten Länder im Dienste der deutschen
Kriegswirtschaft während des Zweiten Weltkrieges. Ein Bericht der
Forschungsstelle für Wehrwirtschaft’, Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte, 34,
1, 1986, 117–46.
‘Unternehmen in Deutschland und NS-Regime 1933–1945. Versuch einer
Synthese’, Historische Zeitschrift, 282, 2006, 35–90.
Buchheim Christoph and Jonas Scherner. ‘Corporate Freedom of Action in Nazi
Germany: A Response to Peter Hayes’, Bulletin of the German Historical
Institute, 45, 2009, 43–50.
‘The Role of Private Property in the Nazi Economy: The Case of Industry’,
Journal of Economic History, 66, 2, 2006, 390–416.
Budrass, Lutz. Flugzeugindustrie und Luftrüstung in Deutschland 1918–1945.
Düsseldorf: Droste Verlag 1998.
Burrin, Philippe. La France à l’heure allemande 1940–1944. Paris: Éditions du Seuil
1995.
 Bibliography 279

Capuno, Christophe. ‘Travailler chez Schneider sous l’Occupation. Le cas des

usines du Creusot’ in Christian Chevandier and Jean-Claude Daumas, eds.,
Travailler dans les entreprises sous l’Occupation. Besançon: Presses Universitaires
de Franche-Comté 2007.
Casella, Alessandra and Barry Eichengreen. ‘Halting Inflation in France and Italy
after World War II’, National Bureau of Economic Research, Working Paper
no. 3852, September 1991.
Chadeau, Emmanuel. L’industrie aéronautique en France 1900–1950. Paris: Fayard 1987.
Louis Renault. Paris: Plon 1998.
Chapman, Herrick. State Capitalism and Working Class Radicalism in the French
Aircraft Industry. Berkeley: University of California Press 1991.
Cheape, Charles. ‘Not Politicians but Sound Businessmen: Norton Company and
the Third Reich’, Business History Review, 62, 3, 1988, 444–66.
Cohen, Yves. ‘The Modernization of Production in the French Automobile
Industry between the Wars: A Photographic Essay’, Business History Review,
65, winter 1991, 54–80.
Cointet, Jean-Paul. Histoire de Vichy. Paris: Plon 1996.
Costagliola, Bernard. La marine de Vichy. Blocus et collaboration, juin 1940 –
novembre 1942. Paris: Tallandier 2009.
Costigliola, Frank. Awkward Dominion: American Political, Economic and Cultural
Relations with Europe 1919–1933. Ithaca: Cornell University Press 1984.
Coutau-Bégarie, Hervé and Claude Huan. Darlan. Paris: Fayard 1989.
Dard, Olivier, Jean-Claude Daumas and François Marcot, eds., L’Occupation,
l’État français et les entreprises. Paris: ADHE 2000.
Davies, Gareth. ‘André Tardieu, les Modérés and the Politics of Prosperity:
1929–1932’, Histoire@Politique. Politique, culture, société, 16, 2012, www.
histoire-politique.fr.
de Grazia, Victoria. Irresistible Empire: America’s Advance through Twentieth-
Century Europe. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press 2005.
Delacor, Regina M. Attentate und Repressionen: Ausgewählte Dokumente zur
zyklichschen Eskalation des NS-Terrors im besetzten Frankreich 1941/42.
Stuttgart: Thorbecke 2000.
Demaison, André. ‘Sahara’, La Revue Matford, 38, 1939, 16–20.
de Rochebrune, Renaud and Jean-Claude Hazéra. Les patrons sous l’Occupation. 2
vols. Paris: Odile Jacob 1995–7.
DiNardo, R. L. and Austin Bay. ‘Horse-Drawn Transport in the German Army’,
Journal of Contemporary History, 23, 1, 1988, 129–42.
Dingli, Laurent. Louis Renault. Paris: Flammarion 2000.
‘Réponse à l’historienne Annie Lacroix-Riz’. www.louisrenault.com/index.php/
reponse-a-annie-lacroix-riz.
Dodd, Lindsey and Andrew Knapp. ‘‘How Many Frenchmen did you Kill?’:
British Bombing Policy towards France (1940–1945)’, French History, 26, 4,
2008, 469–92.
Doenecke, Justus D. et al. ‘The United States, Europe and Asia between the World
Wars and the Prelude to World War II’ in Robert Beisner, ed., American Foreign
Relations since 1600, 2nd edn. Santa Barbara: ABC-Clio 2003.
280 Bibliography

Dülffer, Jost. ‘Die ‘Gruppe Otto Wolfe’ 1929 bis 1945’ in Peter Danylow and
Ulrich S. Soénius, eds., Otto Wolf: Ein Unternehmen zwischen Wirtschaft und
Politik. Munich: Siedler 2005.
du Réau, Elisabeth. Edouard Daladier. Paris: Fayard 1993.
Eichholtz, Dietrich. Geschichte der deutschen Kriegswirtschaft 1939–1945. 3 vols.
Berlin: Akademie-Verlag 1969–96.
Eismann, Gaël. Hôtel Majestic: ordre et sécurité en France occupée (1940–1944).
Paris: Tallandier 2010.
Felinska, Kamila. Projektgruppe ‘Messelager’, Zwangsarbeit bei Ford. Köln: Rode-
Stankowski 1996.
Fings, Karola. ‘Forced Labor at Ford Werke in Cologne’ in Reinhold Billstein,
Karola Fings, Anita Kugler and Nicholas Levis. Working for the Enemy: Ford,
General Motors, and Forced Labour in Germany during the Second World War.
New York: Berghahn 2000.
Fraboulet, Danièle. Les entreprises sous l’Occupation. Le monde de la métallurgie à
Saint-Denis. Paris: CNRS 1998.
Frankenstein, Roger [sic]. ‘Die deutschen Arbeitskräfteaushebungen in
Frankreich und die Zusammenarbeit der französischen Unternehmen
mit der Besatungsmacht, 1940–1944’ in Waclaw Długoborski, ed.,
Zweiter Weltkrieg und sozialer Wandel. Göttingen: Vandenhoek &
Rupprecht 1981.
‘Französischer Wirtschaftsreform’, Der Vierjahresplan, 4, 20, October 1940, 899.
Freymond, Jacques. Le IIIe Reich et la réorganisation économique de l’Europe
1940–1942. Leiden: Sijthoff 1974.
Fridenson, Patrick. ‘Ford as a Model for French Car Makers, 1911–1939’ in
Bonin, Lung and Tolliday, eds., Ford, 1903–2003.
‘François Lehideux 1904–1998’ in Jean-Claude Daumas et al., eds.,
Dictionnaire historique des patrons français. Paris: Flammarion 2010.
Histoire des usines Renault. Paris: Éditions du Seuil 1972.
‘Syndicalisme de l’automobile: la redistribution des cartes’ in Michel Margairaz
and Danielle Tartakovsky, eds. Le syndicalisme dans la France occupée. Rennes:
Presses Universitaires de Rennes 2008.
Fridenson, Patrick and Jean-Louis Robert. ‘Les ouvriers dans la France de
la Seconde Guerre Mondiale. Un bilan’, Mouvement social, 158, 1992,
117–48.
Fridenson, Patrick, Jean-François Grevet and Patrick Veyret. ‘L’épuration dans
l’industrie automobile’ in Marc Bergère, ed., L’épuration économique en France
à la Libération. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes 2008.
Gildea, Robert. Marianne in Chains: In Search of the German Occupation in France,
1940–45. London: Macmillan 2002.
Grassert, Philipp. ‘Keine rein geschäftliche Angelegenheit: Die ‘Feindver-
mögensfrage’ und die Auseinandersetzungen um die amerikanischen
Investitionen im Dritten Reich’ in Manfred Berg and Philipp Grassert, eds.,
Deutschland und die USA in der Internationalen Geschichte des 20. Jahrhunderts.
Stuttgart: Steiner 2004.
Gregor, Neil. Daimler-Benz in the Third Reich. New Haven: Yale University Press
1998.
 Bibliography 281

Grenard, Fabrice. La France du marché noir (1940–1949). Paris: Payot & Rivages
2008.
‘Les implications politiques du ravitaillement en France sous l’Occupation’,
Vingtième Siècle, 94, 2, 2007, 199–215.
Grimm, Friedrich. Frankreich-Berichte 1934 bis 1944. Bodman: Hohenstaufen
1972.
Haight Jr, John McVickar. American Aid to France, 1938–1940. New York:
Atheneum 1970.
Hatry, Gilbert. Louis Renault. Patron absolu. Paris: Lafourcade 1990.
Hayes, Peter. ‘Corporate Freedom of Action in Nazi Germany’, Bulletin of the
German Historical Institute, 45, 2009, 29–42.
Higham, Charles. Trading with the Enemy: An Exposé of the Nazi-American Money
Plot, 1933–1949. New York: Delacorte Press 1983.
Homburg, Heinrich. ‘Wirtschaftliche Dimensionen der deutschen Besatzung-
sherrschaft in Frankreich 1940–1944: Das Beispiel der elektrotechnischen
Industrie’ in Werner Abelshauer et al., eds., Wirtschaftsordnung, Staat und
Unternehmen: Neue Forschungen zur Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Nationalsozialis-
mus. Essen: Klartext 2003.
Houwinck ten Cate, Johannes. ‘Die rüstungswirtschaftliche Ausnutzung
Westeuropas während der ersten Kriegshälfte’ in Gerhard Otto and
Johannes Houwinck ten Cate, eds., Das organisierte Chaos.
‘Amsterdarwinismus’ und ‘Gesinnungsethik’: Determinanten nationalsozialis-
tischer Besatzungsherrschaft. Berlin: Metropol-Verlag 1999.
Imlay, Talbot C. ‘Mind the Gap: The Perception and Reality of Communist
Sabotage of French War Production during the Phony War, 1939–40’, Past
and Present, 189, 2005, 179–224.
Jäckel, Eberhard. Frankreich in Hitlers Europa. Die deutsche Frankreichpolitik im 2.
Weltkrieg. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt 1966.
Jackson, Julian. The Fall of France: The Nazi Invasion of France. Oxford: Oxford
University Press 2003.
France: The Dark Years, 1940–1944. Oxford: Oxford University Press 2001.
The Popular Front in France: Defending Democracy 1934–38. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press 1990.
Jackson, Peter. France and the Nazi Menace: Intelligence and Policy Making
1933–1939. New York: Oxford University Press 2000.
James, Harold. The End of Globalization: Lessons from the Great Depression.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press 2001.
Joly, Hervé. ‘The Economy of Occupied Europe and Vichy France: Constraints
and Opportunities’ in Joachim Lund, ed., Working for the New Order:
European Business under German Domination, 1939–1945. Copenhagen:
Copenhagen Business School Press 2006.
Joly, Hervé et al. Les entreprises françaises sous l’Occupation. http://gdr2539.ish-lyon.
cnrs.fr/index_fr.php.
Kemp, Tom. The French Economy 1913–39: The History of a Decline. London:
Longman 1972.
Kennedy, Sean. Reconciling France against Democracy: The Croix de Feu and the Parti
Social Français, 1927–1945. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press 2007.
282 Bibliography

Kershaw, Ian. Fateful Choices: Ten Decisions that Changed the World 1940–1941.
London: Allen Lane 2007.
Hitler 1936–1945: Nemesis. London: Allen Lane 2000.
Kirchberg, Peter and Siegfried Bunke. Vom Horch zum Munga. Militärfahrzeuge
der Auto Union. Bielefeld: Delius Klasing 2010.
Klarsfeld, Serge. Vichy-Auschwitz: le rôle de Vichy dans la solution finale de la question
juive. 2 vols. Paris: Fayard 1983–5.
Klautke, Egbert. Unbegrenzte Möglichkeiten. ‘Amerikanisierung’ in Deutschland und
Frankreich (1900–1933). Stuttgart: F. Steiner 2003.
Klemann, Hein A. M. ‘Dutch Industrial Companies and the German Occupation,
1940–1945’, Vierteljahrschrifte für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 93, 1,
2006, 1–22.
Klemann, Hein and Sergei Kudryashov. Occupied Economies: An Economic History
of Nazi-Occupied Europe, 1939–1945. New York: Berg 2012.
Knox, MacGregor. Common Destiny: Dictatorship, Foreign Policy and War in Fascist
Italy and Nazi Germany. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2000.
Kroener, Bernhardt R. et al., eds. Das Deutsche Reich und der Zweite Weltkrieg, V/1:
Kriegsverwaltung, Wirtschaft und Personelle Ressourcen 1939–41. Stuttgart:
Deutsche Verlags Anstalt 1988.
Das Deutsche Reich und der Zweite Weltkrieg, V/2: Kriegsverwaltung, Wirtschaft und
Personelle Ressourcen 1942–1944/45. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags Anstalt 1999.
Kugler, Anita. ‘Die Behandlung des feindlichen Vermögens in Deutschland und
die ‘Selbstverantwortung’ der Rüstungsindustrie. Darstellt am Beispiel dr
Adam Opel AG von 1941 bis Anfang 1943’, 1999. Zeitschrift für
Sozialgeschichte des 20. und 21. Jahrhunderts, 3, 1988, 46–78.
Kuisel, Richard. Capitalism and the State in Modern France. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press 1983.
Seducing the French: The Dilemma of Americanization. Berkeley: University of
California Press 1997.
Kupferman, Fred. Pierre Laval. Paris: Masson 1976.
Lacroix-Riz, Annie. ‘Les Comités d’organisation et l’Allemagne: tentative
d’évaluation’ in Hervé Joly, ed., Les Comités d’organisation et l’économie
dirigée du régime de Vichy. Caen: Centre de recherché d’histoire quantitative
2004.
Industriels et banquiers français sous l’Occupation. La collaboration économique avec
le Reich et Vichy. Paris: Armand Colin 1999. 2nd edn, 2014.
‘Louis Renault et la fabrication de chars pour la Wehrmacht’, personal commu-
nication. February 2011.
Lage, Manuel. Hispano-Suiza in Aeronautics. Warrendale: Society of Automotive
Engineers 2004.
Laub, Thomas J. After the Fall: German Policy in Occupied France, 1940–1944.
Oxford: Oxford University Press 2010.
Laux, James M. In First Gear: The French Automobile Industry to 1914. Montreal:
McGill-Queen’s University Press 1976.
 Bibliography 283

Lefeuvre, Daniel. ‘Vichy et la modernisation de l’Algérie. Intention ou réalité’,

Vingtième siècle, 42, 1, 1994, 7–16.
Lemmes, Fabian. ‘Collaboration in Wartime France’, European Review of History,
15, 2, 2008, 157–77.
Leβmann, Peter. ‘Ford Paris im Zugriff von Ford Köln 1943’, Zeitschrift für
Unternehmensgeschichte, 38, 4, 1993, 217–33.
‘Industriebeziehungen zwischen Deutschland und Frankreich während
der deutschen Besatzung, 1940–1944: Das Beispiel Peugeot –
Volkswagenwerk’, Francia, 17, 3, 1990, 120–53.
Liberman, Peter. Does Conquest Pay? The Exploitation of Occupied Industrial
Societies. Princeton: Princeton University Press 1996.
Lieb, Peter. Konventioneller Krieg oder NS-Weltanschauungskrieg? Kriegführung
und Partisanenbekämpfung in Frankreich 1943/44. Munich: Oldenbourg
2007.
Lindner, Stephen H. Das Reichskommissariat für die Behandlung feindlichen
Vermögens im Zweiten Weltkrieg. Stuttgart: Steiner 1991.
Loubet, Jean-Louis. ‘Les grands constructeurs privés et la reconstruction. Citroën
et Peugeot 1944–1951’, Histoire, économie et société, 9, 3, 1990, 441–69.
Histoire de l’automobile française. Paris: Éditions du Seuil 2001.
‘L’industrie automobile française: un cas originel?’, Histoire, économie et société,
18, 2, 1999, 419–33.
La Maison Peugeot. Paris: Perrin 2009.
‘Le travail dans quelques entreprises automobiles françaises sous l’Occupation’
in Chevandier and Daumas, eds., Travailler dans les entreprises sous
l’Occupation.
Loubet, Jean-Louis and Nicholas Hatzfeld, ‘Ford in France’ in Bonin, Lung and
Tolliday, eds., Ford 1903–2003: The European History.
Les 7 vies de Poissy: un aventure industrielle. Paris: ETAI 2001.
Macho-Stadler, Inés and J. David Pérez-Castrillo. An Introduction to the Economics
of Information: Incentives and Contracts. Oxford: Oxford University Press 2001.
Maier, Charles S. ‘Between Taylorism and Technology: European Ideologies and
the Vision of Industrial Productivity in the 1920s’, Journal of Contemporary
History, 5, 1970, 27–61.
Maiolo, Joseph. Cry Havoc: How the Arms Race Drove the World to War 1931–1941.
New York: Basic Books 2010.
Marcot, François. ‘La direction de Peugeot sous l’Occupation: pétainisme,
réticence, opposition et résistance’, Mouvement social, 189, 4, 1999, 27–46.
‘Qu’est-ce qu’un patron résistant?’ in Olivier Dard, Jean-Claude Daumas and
François Marcot, eds., L’Occupation, l’État français et les entreprises. Paris:
ADHE 2001.
Margairaz, Michel. L’État, les finances et l’économie. Histoire d’une conversion
1932–1952. 2 vols. Paris: Comité pour l’histoire économique et financière
de la France 1991.
‘Les politiques économiques de Vichy’, Histoire@Politique. Politique, culture,
société, 9 (2009), www.histoire-politique.fr.
284 Bibliography

Margairaz, Michel and Henry Rousso. ‘Vichy, la guerre et les entreprises’, Histoire,
économie et société, 11, 3, 1992, 337–67.
Marrus, Michael R. and Robert O. Paxton. Vichy France and the Jews. New York:
Basic Books 1981.
Mayer, Michael. Staaten als Täter: Ministerialbürokratie und ‘Judenpolitik’ in
NS-Deutschland und Vichy-Frankreich: ein Vergleich. Munich: Oldenbourg
2010.
Mazower, Mark. Hitler’s Empire: Nazi Rule in Occupied Europe. London: Allen
Lane 2008.
Meyer, Ahlrich. Die deutsche Besatzung in Frankreich 1940–1944: Widerstandsbekä-
mpfung und Judenverfolgung. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft
2000.
Täter im Verhör: Die ‘Endlösung der Judenfrage’ in Frankreich 1940–1944.
Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 2005.
Milward, Alan S. The New Order and the French Economy. Oxford: Clarendon
1970.
Mioche, Philippe. Le Plan Monnet. Genèse et élaboration, 1941–1947. Paris:
Publications de la Sorbonne 1987.
Mitchell, Allan. Nazi Paris: The History of an Occupation, 1940–1944. New York:
Berghahn 2008.
Moguen-Toursel, Marine. ‘Max Thoensissen: des commandes de guerre aux
structures européennes de l’automobile’ in Olivier Dard and
Gilles Richard, eds., Les permanents patronaux: éléments pour l’histoire de l’orga-
nisation du patronat en France dans la première moitié du XXe siècle. Metz:
Centre Lorrain d’Histoire Metz 2005.
Mommsen, Hans and Manfred Grieger. Das Volkswagenwerk und seine Arbeiter im
Dritten Reich. Düsseldorf: ECON 1996.
Mouré, Kenneth. ‘Economic Choice in Dark Times: The Vichy Economy’, French
Politics, Culture & Society, 25, 1, 2007, 108–30.
‘Food Rationing and the Black Market in France (1940–1944)’, French History,
24, 2, 2010, 262–82.
Mouret, Jean-Noël. Louis Renault. Paris: Folio 2009.
Nestler, Ludwig. Die faschistische Okkupationspolitik in Frankreich (1940–1944).
Berlin: VEB Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften 1990.
Nevins, Allan and Frank Ernest Hill. Ford. 3 vols. New York: Charles Scribner &
Sons 1954–62.
Nolan, Mary. The Transatlantic Century: Europe and America, 1890–2010.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2012.
Visions of Modernity: American Business and the Modernization of Germany.
Oxford: Oxford University Press 1994.
Nord, Philip. France’s New Deal: From the Thirties to the Postwar Era. Princeton:
Princeton University Press 2010.
Occhino, Filippo, Kim Oosterlinck and Eugene N. White. ‘How Much Can a
Victor Force the Vanquished to Pay? France under the Nazi Boot’, Journal of
Economic History, 68, 1, 2008, 1–45.
Olley, Maurice. The Motor Car Industry in Germany during the Period 1939–1945.
London: HMSO 1949.
 Bibliography 285

O’Reilly, Declan. ‘Vesting GAF Corporation: The Roosevelt Administration’s

Decision to Americanise I. G. Farben’s American Affiliates in World War
II’, History and Technology, 22, 2, 2006, 153–86.
Overy, R. J. Göring, the ‘Iron Man’. Boston, MA: Routledge and Kegan Paul 1984.
The Dictators: Hitler’s Germany and Stalin’s Russia. London: Allen Lane 2004.
Paxton, Robert. Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order, 1940–1944. New York:
Knopf 1972.
Perry, Matt. ‘Bombing Billancourt: Labour Agency and the Limitations of the
Public Opinion Model in Wartime France’, Labour History Review, 77, 1,
2012, 49–74.
Pesch, Martin. Struktur und Funktionsweise der Kriegswirtchaft in Deutschland ab
1942 – unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des organisatorischen und produktions-
wirtschaftlichen Wandels in der Fahrzeugindustrie. Köln: Muller Botermann
1988.
Plumpe, Werner. ‘Les entreprises sous le nazisme: bilan intermédiare’, Histoire,
économie & société, 24, 4, 2005, 453–72.
Politzer, R. J. ‘Double or Lose Seen as Ford’s Answer in Europe’, Automotive
Industries, 66, 5, 30 January 1932, 145–8.
Przeworski, Adam. States and Markets: A Primer in Political Economy. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press 2008.
Radtke, Arne. ‘La politique salariale de Vichy’ in Denis Peschanski and Jean-Louis
Robert, eds., Les ouvriers en France pendant la Seconde Guerre Mondiale. Paris:
CNRS 1992.
Radtke-Delacor, Arne. ‘La position des Comités d’organisation face aux autorités
d’occupation: la pomme de discorde des commandes allemandes en
1940–1941’ in Hervé Joly, ed., Les Comités d’organisation et l’économie dirigée
du régime de Vichy. Caen: Centre de recherché d’histoire quantitative 2004.
‘Produire pour le Reich. Les commandes allemandes à l’industrie française
(1940–1944)’ Vingtième Siècle, 70, 2001, 99–115.
‘Verlängerte Werkbank im Westen: Deutsche Produktionsaufträge als
Trumpfkarte der industriellen Kollaboration in Frankreich (1942–1944)’ in
Stefan Martens and Maurice Vaïsse, eds., Frankreich und Deutschland im Krieg
(November 1942–Herbst 1944): Okkupation, Kollaboration, Résistance. Bonn:
Bouvier 2000.
Reich, Simon. Research Findings about Ford-Werke under the Nazi Regime.
Dearborn: Ford Motor Company 2001.
Reiling, Johannes. Deutschland Safe for Democracy? Deutsch-amerikanische
Beziehungen aus dem Tätigkeitsbereich Heinrich F. Alberts, kaiserlicher
Geheimrat in Amerika, erster Staatssekretär der Reichskanzlei der Weimarer
Republik, Reichsminister, Betreuer der Ford-Gesellschaften im Herrschaftsgebiet
des Dritten Reiches 1914 bis 1945. Stuttgart: Steiner 1997.
Reuth, Ralf Georg, ed. Joseph Goebbels. Tagebücher. Band 4: 1940–1942. Munich:
Piper 2008.
Riess, Monika. Die deutsche-französische industrielle Kollaboration während des
Zweiten Weltkrieges am Beispiel der Renault-Werke (1940–1944). Frankfurt
am Main: Peter Lang 2002.
286 Bibliography

Roger, Philippe. The American Enemy: The History of French Anti-Americanism.

Chicago: University of Chicago Press 2005.
Rosellen, Hanns-Peter. ‘. . . und trotzdem vorwärts’. Die dramatische Entwicklung
von Ford in Deutschland 1903 bis 1945. Frankfurt: Zyklam 1986.
Rosenberg, Emily S. Financial Missionaries: The Politics and Culture of Dollar
Diplomacy 1900–1930. Cambridge: Harvard University Press 1999.
Rossino, Alexander B. Hitler Strikes Poland: Blitzkrieg, Ideology and Atrocity.
Lawrence: University of Kansas Press 2003.
Roβmann, Witich, ed. Vom mühsamen Weg zur Einheit. Lesebuch zur Geschichte
der Kölner Metall-Gewerkschaften. Quellen und Dokumente 2: 1918–1951.
Hamburg: VSA Verlag, 1991.
Rousso, Henry. Le régime de Vichy. Paris: Presses universitaires de France 2007.
Le syndrome de Vichy: de 1944 à nos jours. Paris: Éditions du Seuil 1990.
Sabel, Charles F. Work and Politics: The Division of Labour in Industry. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press 1982.
Sabin, Guy. Jean Bichelonne. Ministre sous l’Occupation 1942–1944. Paris: France-
Empire 1991.
Sanders, Paul. ‘Economic Draining – German Black Market Operations in
France, 1940–1944’, Global Crime, 9, 1–2, 2008, 136–68.
Histoire du marché noir, 1940–1946. Paris: Perrin 2001.
Sauvy, Alfred. Histoire économique de la France entre les deux guerres. 3 vols. Paris:
Fayard 1966–75.
Sauvy, Jean. Les organismes professionnels français de l’automobile et leurs acteurs
1896–1979. Paris: Comité des constructeurs français 1998.
Scherner, Jonas. ‘Der deutsche Importboom während des Zweiten Weltkriegs.
Neue Ergebnisse zur Struktur der Ausbeutung des besetzten Europas auf der
Grundlage einer Neuschätzung der deutschen Handelsbilanz’, Historische
Zeitschrift, 292, 1, 2012, 79–113.
‘Europas Beitrag zu Hitlers Krieg. Die Verlagerung von Industrieaufträgen der
Wehrmacht in die besetzten Gebiete und ihre Bedeutung für die deutsche
Rüstung im Zweiten Weltkrieg’ in Buchheim and Boldorf, eds., Europaïsche
Volkswirtschaften unter deutscher Hegemonie.
Scherner, Jonas and Jochen Streb. ‘Das Ende eines Mythos? Albert Speer und das so
genannte Rüstungswunder’, Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial und Wirtschaftsgeschichte,
93, 2006, 172–96.
Schöttler, Peter. ‘Eine Art ‘Generalplan West’. Die Stuckart-Denkschrift vom 14.
Juli 1940 und die Planungen für eine neue deutsch-französishe Grenze im
Zweiten Weltkrieg’, Sozial.Geschichte, 18, 2003, 83–131.
Schug, Alexander. ‘Missionare der globalen Konsumkultur: Corporate
Identity und Absatzstrategien amerikanischer Unternehmen in Deutschland
im frühren 20. Jahrhundert’ in Wolfgang Hardtwig, ed., Politische
Kulturgeschichte der Zwischenkriegszeit 1918–1939. Göttingen: Vandenhoek &
Rupprecht 2005.
Schweitzer, Sylvie. Des engrenages à la chaîne: les usines Citroën, 1915–1935. Lyon:
Presses Universitaires de Lyon 1982.
Sereny, Gitta. Albert Speer: His Battle with Truth. London: Macmillan 1995.
 Bibliography 287

Shearer, David. Industry, State, and Society in Stalin’s Russia, 1926–1934. Ithaca:
Cornell University Press 1996.
Strauss, David. Menace in the West: The Rise of French Anti-Americanism. Westport:
Greenwood Press 1978.
Thomas, Georg Richard. Geschichte der deutschen Wehr- und Rüstungswirtschaft,
1918–1943/45. Boppard am Rhine: Boldt 1966.
Tolliday, Steven. ‘The Origins of Ford of Europe: From Multidomestic to
Transnational Corporation, 1903–1976’ in Bonin, Lung and Tolliday, eds.,
Ford, 1903–2003.
Tolliday, Steven and Jonathan Zeitlin, eds. The Automobile Industry and its Workers:
Between Fordism and Flexibility. New York: Polity Press 1987.
Tooze, Adam. The Wages of Destruction: The Making and Breaking of the Nazi
Economy. London: Allen Lane 2006.
Turner, Henry Ashby. General Motors and the Nazis. New Haven: Yale University
Press 2005.
Umbreit, Hans. Der Militärbefehlshaber in Frankreich, 1940–1944. Boppard am
Rhein: H. Boldt 1968.
Van Creveld, Martin. Supplying War: Logistics from Wallenstein to Patton.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2004 edn.
van de Casteele-Schweitzer, Sylvie. ‘Management and Labour in France 1914–39’
in Tolliday and Zeitlin, eds., The Automobile Industry and its Workers.
van Tuyll, Hubert P. Feeding the Bear: American Aid to the Soviet Union, 1941–1945.
Westport: Greenwood Press 1989.
Vauvillier, François and Jean-Michel Touraine. L’Automobile sous l’uniforme
1939–1940. Paris: Massin 1992.
Verheyde, Philippe. Les mauvais comptes de Vichy: L’aryanisation des entreprises
juives. Paris: Perrin 1999.
Vinen, Richard. ‘The French Coal Industry during the Occupation’, Historical
Journal, 33, 1, 1990, 105–30.
The Politics of French Business 1936–1945. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press 1991.
The Unfree French: Life under the Occupation. London: Penguin 2006.
Volkmann, Hans-Erich. ‘Landwirtschaft und Ernährung in Hitlers Europa
1939–45’, Militärgeschichtliche Mitteilungen, 35, 1984, 9–74.
von Saldern, Adelheid and Rüdiger Hachtmann. ‘Das fordistische Jahrhundert.
Eine Einleitung’, Zeithistorische Forschungen Online, 6, 2, 2009.
von Schell, Adolf. ‘Nationalsozialistische Wirtschaftsformen und Kraftfahr-
zeugindustrie’, Der Vierjahresplan, 3, 17, September, 1939, 571.
von Scherr-Thoss, H. S. Granf. Die deutsche Automobilindustrie. Eine Dokumentation
von 1886 bis heute. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt 1974.
Vorsin, V. F. ‘Motor-Vehicle Transport Deliveries through ‘Lend-Lease’’, Journal
of Slavic Military Studies, 10, 2, 1997, 153–75.
Weiss, Stuart L. The President’s Man: Leo Crowley and Franklin Roosevelt in Peace
and War. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press 1996.
Wilkins, Mira. The Maturing of Multinational Enterprise: American Business Abroad
from 1914 to 1970. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press 1974.
288 Bibliography

Wilkins, Mira and Frank Ernest Hill. American Business Abroad: Ford on Six
Continents. Detroit: Wayne State University Press 1964.
Young, Robert. France and the Origins of the Second World War. New York: St
Martin’s Press 1996.
Zielinksi, Bernd. ‘L’exploitation de la main-d’oeuvre française par l’Allemagne et
la politique de collaboration (1940–1944)’ in B. Garnier and J. Quellien, eds.,
La main-d’oeuvre française exploitée par le IIIe Reich. Caen: Centre de Recherce
Histoire Quantitative 2003.
Staatskollaboration: Vichy und der Arbeitskräfteeinsatz im Dritten Reich. Münster:
Westfälisches Dampfboot 1995.

III PERIODICALS
Automotive Industries
BNF. Bulletin d’information. Publication réservée au Personnel de la Société Ford
(S.S.F.)
La Journée Industrielle
La Revue Matford
La Vie Industrielle
New York Times

IV UNPUBLISHED SOURCES
Glaβ, Bettina. ‘Der lange Schatten der Rüstung: Die Entwicklung der
Luftfahrtindustrie im Raum Toulouse von der Mitte der 1930er Jahre bis
1970’, Ph.D., Ruhr-Universitä Bochum, 2004.
Grevet, Jean-François. ‘Au coeur de la révolution automobile, l’industrie française
du poids lourd du Plan Pons au regroupement Berliet-Saviem. Marchés,
industries et état en France 1944–1974’, thèse d’histoire, Université
Charles-De Gaulle Lille III, 2005.
Link, Stefan. ‘Transnational Fordism: Ford Motor Company, Nazi Germany, and
the Soviet Union’, Ph.D., Harvard University, 2012.
 Index
Albert, Heinrich, 86, 88–90, 96, 99, 111–14
Amsterdam, 53, 87, 137, 211
Antwerp, 137, 211
Anvers, 53, 87
Barckhausen, Franz, 119–21, 125, 158–61,
163
Barnaud, Jacques, 133
Becker, Herbert, 216, 225–7
Belin, René, 66–7, 71
Berliet, 25, 186, 203, 218–19
Beschaffungsamt, 125, 127, 158, 162
Bichelonne, Jean, 130–2, 149–50, 167–9,
195, 206, 229
Black, Edwin, 18
Boldorf, Marcel, 4, 161
Bonnet, Georges, 34–5, 39
Bormann, Martin, 105, 152
Bouthillier, Yves, 67
Burrin, Philippe, 7
Chadeau, Emmanuel, 8
Chambre syndicale des constructeurs
d’automobiles (CSCA), 28–9, 34–6
Chapman, Herrick, 40, 45
Citroën, 2, 21, 23, 24, 26, 28, 33–4, 36, 37,
62, 186, 203, 204, 218–19, 247, 252,
256, 263
Citroën, André, 27, 33–4, 35
Comité d’organisation de l’automobile et du
cycle (COA), 1–2, 64–5, 73–81,
94–7, 98, 103, 133–6, 150, 166,
169–71, 176–9, 183–5, 187–9, 190,
192–3, 201–2, 203–5, 208–10,
211–15, 218–19, 221–4, 225, 226,
228–9, 236, 252
Commission de modernisation de
l’automobile (CMA), 253
Conseil de l’automobile, 169
Dagenham, Ford Motor Company
(England) Ltd, 25–6, 30
Daladier, Edouard, 39, 40, 41
Dautry, Raoul, 42
De Grazia, Victoria, 16
Dingli, Laurent, 3, 8, 268
Dollfus, Maurice, 21, 22–3, 26, 29–38, 39,
40–9, 82–4, 86, 87, 90–100, 103,
108, 113–14, 133, 136–8, 140,
141–7, 150, 170, 174–85, 188–9,
192, 196, 204, 205–8, 210, 213,
214–15, 218, 222, 223–5, 226–7,
231–2, 234–6, 240, 244, 246,
247–51, 253, 254–6, 258–9
Eismann, Gaël, 14
European Automobile Committee (EAC),
64, 79, 80
Firmenbeaufträgter, 230
Ford Afrique, 136–7, 248, 251
Ford AG, 84–6
Ford Dearborn, 21, 23, 26, 31, 32, 42, 43,
45–7, 83, 84, 85–6, 90, 92–4, 96, 99,
112–14, 139, 146–7, 247, 248, 251,
256–9, 260, 261–3
Ford Société anonyme française (Ford
SAF), 1–3, 4–6, 16–19, 21–49, 58,
60, 65, 81–4, 90–4, 136–40, 146–8,
150, 156, 169, 246–59
Bombing, 21, 140–2, 146, 207
Plants
Asnières, 29, 30, 39, 41, 46, 47, 48, 54,
82–3, 84, 87, 91, 137
Bordeaux, 44, 46, 48, 82, 137, 207
Bourges, 143–4, 241, 249
La Courneuve, 181, 207, 249
Le Bourget, 249
Neuilly, 249
Poissy, 5, 21, 39, 40–4, 46, 47, 48–9,
81–3, 88, 99, 137, 138, 139–45,
177, 181, 207, 249, 250–1, 260–1,
263, 265
sale, 262–3
289
290 Index
Ford Société anonyme française (cont.)
strikes, 37
under-production, 9–11, 195, 196,
236–45, 268
Ford, Edsel, 21, 22, 23, 29, 31, 33, 34, 35,
37, 38, 41, 43, 45, 46, 47, 48, 92,
93, 146
Ford, Henry, 23, 30, 32, 39, 42, 43–4, 85, 256
Ford, Henry II, 258
FordAir, 44, 46, 47, 49
Fordism, 16–17, 18
Ford-Werke, 2, 5, 18, 30, 58, 84–7, 137,
183, 184, 250, 265
European truck program, 171–4, 181–2,
185–93, 201–24, 233–6
relations with Ford SAF, 18–19, 84,
87–100, 111–14, 174–81, 228–9,
231–3
Four Year Plan, 54, 57, 60, 104, 113, 151
Fridenson, Patrick, 25, 242
Funk, Walter, 56, 57, 59
Gamelin, Maurice, 39
Generalbevollmächtigten für das
Kraftfahrwesen (GBK), 60–5, 75–6,
79, 80–1, 83–4, 87, 88, 94–8, 109,
112, 117, 124, 134, 147, 172
Germany
occupation policy, 51–4, 122–9, 156–66
treatment of enemy assets, 104–11, 150–1
Göring, Hermann, 54–60, 61, 63, 67, 104,
106, 107, 112, 156–7, 162
Grevet, Jean-François, 253
Hatry, Gilbert, 8
Hauptausschuss Kraftfahrzeuge, 124, 135,
158, 175, 187
Hill, Frank, 258
Hispano-Suiza, 42, 45, 46, 48–9
Hitler, Adolf, 15, 39, 43, 51, 52, 55, 59, 70,
85, 103–4, 115, 122, 123, 124, 128,
154–5, 156, 162, 172
Hug, Eugène, 236–7
Industrie Beauftragter (IB), 98
Jackson, Julian, 129, 167
Joly, Hervé, 4
Klautke, Egbert, 17
Klemann, Hein, 240
Kuisel, Richard, 65–6, 71
La Chambre, Guy, 39–40, 42, 44–5
Lacroix-Riz, Annie, 28, 72
Länder-Beauftragte, 164
Laval, Pierre, 68, 121, 126, 129–31,
133–4
Lehideux, François, 1–2, 17, 37, 57, 65,
73–81, 94–9, 103, 116, 121, 130,
133–6, 143, 150, 169–71, 176–9,
183, 187–93, 203–4, 205, 207–10,
212, 213, 214–15, 221–2, 228–9,
240, 245, 248–9, 252, 259–62
Leitenfirma, 164, 228
L’Epine, Amaury, 75, 183–5, 202, 213
Leβmann, Peter, 214, 233
Lindner, Stephen, 58, 109, 155
Loubet, Jean-Louis, 8, 29, 256, 268
Luxembourg accord, 175–81,
183–4, 214
Marcot, François, 7–8, 268
Margairaz, Michel, 130
Matford, 31–2, 34–5, 37–8, 43, 46, 47,
146, 226
Strasbourg, 31, 32, 36, 38, 44, 46, 48
Mathis, Émile, 31–3, 34, 35, 37, 38, 136
Mayer, Michael, 14
Merlin (engines), 14, 43, 44
Michel, Elmar, 117–18, 164
Militärbefehlshaber in Frankreich (MbF),
14, 15, 54, 56–7, 64, 72, 73, 108–9,
110–11, 115–18, 121, 122–5, 127,
133, 142, 143, 155–6, 157, 158,
162–3, 237
Milward, Alan, 11, 194, 195
Ministère de la Production industrielle (MPI),
66–9, 70–3, 75, 131, 132, 135, 143,
145, 166, 167–9, 180, 199, 234, 252
Monnet, Jean, 253
Morgenthau, Henry, 248
Nolan, Mary, 16
Norguet, René, 131–2, 169
Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (OKW),
52–3, 58–9, 115, 125, 126
Office central de répartition des produits
industriels (OCRPI), 71, 76
Opel (General Motors), 87, 106, 153, 155,
172–3
Organisation Todt, 147
Patenfirma, 164, 228–33
Paxton, Robert, 13
Perry, Percival, 22–3, 25, 29–31, 32, 33,
34, 38
Pétain, Philippe, 50, 74, 129, 167
Petiet, Baron Charles, 28–9, 74, 249
 Index
Peugeot, 2, 8, 21, 24, 26, 27–8, 37, 147,
174, 186, 219, 223, 235, 239, 252,
256, 258
Pons plan, 252–3
Popular Front, 36–8, 42, 76
Radtke-Delacor, Arne, 54, 195
Reich, Simon, 18
Reichskommissariat für die Behandlung
feindlichen Vermögens (RkBfV), 58,
59, 60, 107, 114, 151, 152
Renault, 2, 8–9, 21, 23, 24, 26, 28, 37, 53,
62, 73–4, 140, 142, 180, 186, 203,
218, 226, 235, 249, 252, 256,
257, 263
Renault, Louis, 2, 17, 28, 29, 37, 74
Reynaud, Paul, 44–5, 50
Ricq, Jean-Marie, 183–5, 188, 212–13, 260
Robert, Jean-Louis, 242
Roger, Philippe, 27
Rousso, Henry, 130
Rüstungs- und Beschaffungsstab Frankreich
(Rü Stabes Frankreich), 162–3
Rüstungskommando, 15
Sanders, Paul, 138
Sauckel, Fritz, 15, 16, 128–9, 130, 158, 160,
167, 194, 200
S-Betriebe, 194, 200, 227–8
Schaaf, Wilhelm, 124, 172, 178, 179, 190,
191–3, 209, 210–17, 221
Scherner, Jonas, 12, 266–7
Schmidt, Robert, 84, 87–9, 91, 92, 94–8,
99, 113–14, 173–5, 178–9, 181–3,
187–90, 206, 211, 214–15, 216, 232
Schweitzer, Sylvie, 27
291
SIMCA, 29, 223, 263
Sorensen, Charles, 23, 31, 32–3, 36, 38, 40,
41, 43–4, 45, 47, 48
Speer, Albert, 15, 16, 122–9, 135, 156–66,
167, 168, 172–3, 194–201, 203–4,
216–17, 220, 229, 233
Speer–Bichelonne accords (agreement),
194–201, 203, 227, 228, 229, 230
Stahlberg, Johannes, 98, 231
Tannen, Major H., 145, 181, 182–3, 185,
189, 206, 207, 208, 210, 214, 216
Thoenissen, Max, 61, 63–5, 77, 80, 81,
83, 84, 87, 89, 94–100, 112–13,
119–21, 127, 136, 162, 168,
177–81, 210
Thomas, General Georg, 52–3, 100,
115, 123
Tooze, Adam, 11–12, 52, 159, 269
United States
Treatment of enemy assets, 107–8, 248
Vedettte, 255–7
Vichy, 13–14, 166–7
economic policy, 4, 17, 65–73, 129–33,
167–9, 194, 197, 206, 228, 241
von Schell, Adolf, 61
Vuillemin, Joseph, 39–40
Wilkens, Mira, 258
Wiskott, Carl, 208–10, 212–13, 216, 219,
222, 225–7, 239
Zentralauftragsstelle (ZASt), 54, 125, 127
Zentrale Planung, 123