When Passing Through the Valley of Weeping.

September 15th, 1942 was one of those lovely autumn days that give a feeling of warm contentment. Gilbert’s cycle was, by now looking quite a showpiece! The tires had worn out completely and new ones were unprocurable. (With all the greenhouses across the island, in which tomatoes had been grown year-round, miles of hose pipes [used for heating in the winter] were now unused, due to the restrictions on energy for heating. With some ingenuity and resourcefulness, Gilbert had been able to ‘obtain’ enough piping to create two new ‘tires’. He had managed to painstakingly, using a long piece of wire with a hooked end, draw strips of cloth and canvass through the pipes so as to make them solid. They were then cut to length around the rim of each wheel and the ends sewn together at the joins with wire. These new ‘tires’ lasted the duration of the occupation).

 Although somewhat less comfortable on the substitute tyres he (and many other enterprising souls) had ‘manufactured’, he rode far and wide around the island in response to calls for his services.

This particular day he had ridden to the Castel Methodist to speak at an afternoon gathering.

It was a Tuesday, the day of our ‘Bright Hour’, and I was early with all my arrangements. Michael was fed and in his pram, ready for his afternoon walk. Looking at the clock, I found I had some spare time. Earlier in the morning I had heard the paper delivery boy at the gate so I went to look for the paper to see if there were any special ration allowances for the week.

As Phyllis was unavailable that day, my friend Doris arrived, collected Michael and set off happily with the pram for the park. As I closed the door I turned to pick up the paper from the usual place Gilbert put it after reading. It wasn’t there. I looked all over for it, still no paper. By this time something began to tell me it must have been purposely hidden. If so, there could only be one reason – bad news! I intensified my search. Under the cushion of a seldom used chair I found it. Tremblingly, I open to the “Official Notices” page.

NOTICE

15 September, 1942

By order of higher authorities, the following British subjects will be evacuated to Germany:

• Persons who have permanent residence not in the Channel Isles, for instance, those who have been caught here by the outbreak of war
• All those men not born on the Channel Isles and between 16 & 70 years of age that belong to the English people, together with their families

Detailed instructions will be given by the Feldkommandantur 515.

Der Feldkommandant,                                              (Gez.) Knackfuss, Oberst.               

Now I knew why Gilbert had hidden the paper! I read and re-read the order. I tried to read into it any other things than it could mean but it was clear – it meant US! I was stunned.

That afternoon I was scheduled to be the speaker for the ‘Bright Hour’. I took up my Bible and speaking notes and re-read my text for the meeting…Philippians 4:11, “I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.”  I asked myself, “Can I really say that?” With fear clutching at my heart, could I honestly say it?

The rows of seats were filled when I arrived, the atmosphere tense. Many others of those in attendance were affected, even as we were, by this turn of events. Tear-stained faces were much in evidence and, trying to be brave, I announced our first hymn, chosen many days before…little knowing how much they would mean that afternoon.

“When the storms of life are raging

Tempests wild on sea and land

I will seek a place of refuge

In the shadow of God’s hand

He will hide me, safely hide me

Where no harm can ere betide

He will hide me, safely hide me

In the hollow of His hand.”

Overcome with emotion, many wept as we sang. This was no soft or imaginary experience, this was real – a ‘NOW’ test. Somehow, I managed to speak without changing my theme, as by faith I claimed whatever was God’s will for us. I would accept it as from His hand…but, Oh how I prayed “If possible, not THIS, Lord.”

As I walked home, I saw Dr Rose nearing the entrance to The Close. He stopped his car and got out. We stood on the corner and discussed at length the new situation and what it might mean. “Chin up,” he said, “they can’t send all of us. So many doctors and other essential people needed to maintain the morale of the population are English. There are bound to be exemptions.” Then he asked about Michael. I told him of my concern that he seemed to have dysentery. He could see I was exhausted and paused to think. “I’ll arrange to have him put into hospital for a few days. Apart from resting you from nursing him, it will give you the time you need to do whatever is essential as far as you and Gilbert are concerned.”  He turned to get back into his car but hesitated and turned back to me, “I suggest you take a note to the Commandant’s office as soon as possible, to see if it’s possible the baby could be left in the Island in the care of someone you can trust, until this is all over.”

I hurried down the cul-de-sac to the house. I hadn’t yet seen Gilbert since this storm has burst upon us. I put the key in the door just as the phone rang. Lifting the receiver, I heard the voice of Mrs Batiste. “I’ve just read the paper, my dear, and I just want you to know I will willingly take care of Michael if you will entrust him to me, whilst you are in Germany.” This dear lady, my own mother’s age, was pouring out her desire to help. How much I will ever treasure and appreciate her loving thoughts.

Gilbert arrived. We talked quickly as I told him of Dr Rose’s arrangements and Mrs Batiste’s suggestion. Hurriedly I wrote the note to the Commandant asking for Michael’s exemption and ran to Grange Lodge – there to find hundreds of people also bearing notes, hoping to be allowed to stay.

After a long wait I found myself standing before the desk of several officials who were processing these requests. Reading my request, the officer in charge looked at me coldly and with an expressionless face said, “Nicht. All families must go together!” My heart sank as I left the building. “What now, Lord?” I questioned.

Meanwhile Dr Rose, as good as his word, came to say arrangements were made with the hospital and, with the assistance of his nurse, took Michael in his car. In his parting words he told me to relax, all would be done to get him right as quickly as possible.

A meeting of ministers of all denominations on the island was called and a deputation representing the ministerial fraternity went to meet the Commandant, requesting exemption for all ministers on the basis that their place in helping maintain the Islanders’ morale was essential. After a lengthy discussion, the Germans consented to allow some to remain but insisted that a certain number should still be deported to maintain the quotas set by Berlin (how we hated the Germans’ obsession with ‘quotas’!). After completion of the list we found that both Arthur Jackson and we were among the number for deportation. It seemed that our three churches would be completely without any pastor of their own and the close-knit relationship that existed between our people and us would now be broken.

Back at home we made plans whilst we sorted out clothing that we could take, knowing it would be a cold winter in Germany. Not having been able to buy wool for baby clothes or even ready-made garments, for ourselves or Michael, in recent days didn’t make it easy. Luggage was very restricted – one small suitcase each – and the boat was to leave on the 21^st. There was not much time. The first boats were to leave within 24 hours of the initial declaration.

Gilbert and I were the youngest minister and wife on the island and the only ones with a new baby. Many of the ministers from every denomination were anxious for us, calling us to assure us of their prayers. Early on Thursday morning a Methodist minister rang. During a restless night he had found himself thinking of us and suddenly a thought had sprung to his mind…the Reverend & Mrs Donald Stuart had recently retired from active ministry but still held current ministry credentials and he continued to preach in some of the pulpits vacated by the earlier evacuation. They were also English and would be amongst the deportees anyway. Could it be at all possible that they could take the place of someone on the ministers list and so still keep the numbers correct, thus satisfying the Germans’ statistical requirements (the ‘quotas’ with which they were obsessed)  and yet free up another man to stay. “Meet me by the Town Church and we will try to find the Stuarts. They have been in Jersey for a few days but will likely be coming home on the morning mail boat today,” he said to Gilbert.

By the time they left the Town Church and got to the wharf they found that the boat had arrived early and all the passengers had left. Making their way back up to the town centre, the two men passed a café and, just as they were approaching it, who should walk out of the door but the Stuarts! They had stopped to have a quick cup of ‘ersatz’ coffee before hastening home to start packing. Was it a coincidence? No, it was definitely a ‘God incident’.

The four of them sat back down as the proposition was quickly put to Rev and Mrs Stuart. Without hesitation, their answer was “Yes, of course!” Knowing that he and his wife had to leave anyway, Rev Stuart realised that by going in the official capacity of a minister may well give him opportunities to be a chaplain to the other deportees, with the authorities’ approval. [Already ministers had been issued with armbands bearing a blue cross so that they could be easily identified by both people and authorities.] He relished the idea of extending his pastoral ministry in this desperate situation. After their discussion, they decided to go immediately to the German administration to seek permission for the changeover. The officials listened, wrote copious notes but would not give an immediate answer…it would have to be considered. In true Teutonic form, there would be no hasty decisions from the occupiers, even despite the short deadline.

At home we concluded our preparations as we could not afford to be un-ready, should the request be refused.

Arthur Jackson gathered together his things, leaving various possessions in the charge of church friends, deciding to treat it as an adventure – which it was to become for him…albeit a rather unpleasant one. His cheery disposition during those tense hours of awaiting the outcome of the decision on our future was something of a relief.

Monday 21^st dawned – our boat was due to depart for occupied France that evening. During the morning, Gilbert went to the German HQ at ‘Grand Lodge’ to see if a reprieve had been granted for us. By midday I was in our sitting room, which was full to capacity with many of our church people who had gathered together for prayer. Our bags stood packed at the door. Any food I had been able to save for ‘a day yet to come’ I had parcelled and labelled with names for distribution amongst the elderly folk in the congregation.

We were in the midst of prayer when the front door burst open and there stood Gilbert holding aloft our exemption! We were free to stay! Now and our three Elim Churches would have at least one pastor to oversee and minister to them. Arthur was genuinely delighted for us. His concern for Michael in the recent two days since the first declaration had been particularly touching.

What a wonderful answer to prayer! Our people were overjoyed and radiant as they stood with us as  we prayed prayers of thanks then sang together, giving praise to God for His goodness – and once more I knew that the promise of Isaiah 58 : 11 had really proved true  in detail and I rejoiced. Tears of joy stained all our faces.

Amongst numerous activities relating to the deportation, such as the raising of supplies of food for the deportees for the journey (including 1000 hard-boiled eggs gathered up and donated by restaurateur Frank Stroubant), urgent shoe repairs and emergency clothing supplies for the unfortunate travellers, The Guernsey Press, 16 September 1942, reported “at a service at Eldad Elim Church, the Rev. G. S. Dunk announced that the Rev. Donald Stuart had offered to replace him as an deportee, thus leaving one of the Elim Churches’ ministers in the Island. The Rev. A. A. Jackson, of the Delancey Elim Church, is also to leave the Island and the Rev. F Flint has volunteered to leave for the Methodist Church.”

After the war we learned that both Rev & Mrs Donald Stuart had passed away in the Biberach Internment Camp. They had gone to be with The Lord where we know they will have heard “Well done, good and faithful servants.” We have always felt so very, deeply grateful that they took our place, paying the ultimate price and pay them special tribute. We are truly honoured and blessed by their faithfulness.

Married couples, single women and families were sent to either Biberach or Wurzach Internment Camps in southern Germany. Arthur Jackson went initially to the Laufen Internment Camp, also in the south, along with the single men but was eventually moved to a Prisoner of War camp on the Russian border and made Padre to the American prisoners held there in the bitter cold. He had a dreadful time, having later been marched south with the P.O.W.’s back through Europe, and then being held in Berlin during the heaviest of the Allied bombing. After the war he was repatriated to England… a nervous wreck…but later, happily, following a long period of convalescence, became a Church of England vicar. He took a pastoral role at the Stone Church, Staffordshire.

There has never been a clear explanation as to why the Deportation Order was given in the first place. It puzzled the Occupation Force administration as much as the Island administration as it was a complete breach of the initial German promise as outlined in General Richtofen’s ultimatum that: “In the event of a peaceful surrender the lives, property and liberty of peaceful inhabitants are guaranteed.” Colonel Knackfuss had made an immediate protest to the order, both to the German Commander-in-Chief in France and General Schmidt (Hitler’s Adjutant)…to no avail. The order had come from Herr Hitler himself and that was that. With typical insanity, he had insisted on definite numbers of civilians in specific categories and classifications, for deportation. There is a suggestion that he may have wanted a certain number of Englishmen as ‘pawns’ for some future bargaining, possibly in exchange for interned Germans.

The sadistic and apparently senseless act of tearing people from their homes for deportation and exile in hostile territory caused something akin to panic in some quarters. One man and his wife drank poison in a joint suicide. He died but she was revived after apparently vomiting the mixture back and being found unconscious was rushed to the hospital. Some young girls (of English parentage) escaped deportation by hastily marrying Island men; whilst men and women employed by the Germans were exempted. Other exemptions were granted on the basis of ill-health or essential work (under which category Gilbert and Irene were eventually granted theirs).

Throughout the Islands, younger people volunteered to act as substitutes for elderly or ailing friends, in most cases without success. In Jersey, three young men who had returned home as Conscientious Objectors, after appealing against being called-up for military service whilst working in England, were permitted to go in place of a minister and his family. 

In Guernsey, Baron von Aufsess, Officer in Charge of Military Administration (of who we will read more in a later chapter), had finally to call an end to appeals with the simple statement, “I am sorry, but I must provide the numbers.” – (it was those ‘quotas’ again!!).

The departures took place with an air of stubborn dignity and, on occasion, a spirited expression of rebellion and good cheer. On the wharf some local businessmen arranged for a stall with hot food and soup and offered elaborately wrapped ‘gifts’ of contraband tobacco and cigarettes to the men amongst the deportees, some of whom sported little Union Jacks tucked into their hatbands. Their fellow-Islanders who stood watching them go would break out into intermittent cheers for “England”, “Guernsey” and even “Churchill”.

And so they went, leaving behind their friends anxiously awaiting news of how they were coping. Months later the first letters started coming from the internment camps. Reports of Red Cross parcels and nursing care eased some of the concern for the exiles. Many complained of monotony, lack of exercise and boredom but others had volunteered for work parties outside the camp and found themselves working on farms on the surrounding beauty of Bavaria where friendly farmers fed them well and even allowed them to listen to the BBC on their radios. Mr Topley…a retired British Army officer who had settled in St Peter Port…and his wife wrote to say they were enjoying their ‘Cook’s Tour of Europe at Mr Hitler’s expense’. Mrs Topley observed, “If the Germans have got such a lovely country as this in which to live, why do they want to come bothering other people?”