Out of the Mouths of Babes

13. Out of the Mouths of Babes

As early as July 10^th, the Germans had instructed that all houses with families living in them were to display a “This house is occupied” sign in the window. As many of the remaining families wanted to keep the dwellings of family or friends who had evacuated out of the Germans’ hands, they sent members of their own family to live in the empty homes and justify having a sign in the window. Eventually, the need outstripped the supply and German officers would visit houses to inspect that all was as it appeared. As time went by they began evicting families to secure more accommodation.

It was a lovely Guernsey-autumn afternoon and my schedule had been changed around. In the afternoon I walked down to the town with the pram, which was quite out of custom for me at that time of day. I don’t remember why it happened but it is probable that news of a restricted commodity was being released on sale at that time had done the rounds, so I would have been keen to make the purchase. Having stood in queues for a couple of hours (we queued for everything we bought) and completed the shopping, I had laboured back up the steep hill, feeling relieved to reach the flat ground of Doyle Road and turn down the slight slope of The Close. Pushing open the gate I left the pram by the front door. Michael was asleep so I took the few groceries inside first.

Now, the amazing thing about this simple act is that I have no recollection of ever leaving the pram at the front door before – I had always taken it to the back door, which was my habit. Besides, it was closer to the kitchen.

I was startled to hear a sharp rap on the door. I thought immediately of Michael in the pram and ran back to see who it could be. The door was ajar but I could see the shadow of someone there and heard a voice. As I opened the door I’m sure my face must have been a study to anyone who might have been an uninvolved spectator! There, to my horror, stood a high-ranking German officer and with him a Guernsey civil-interpreter. My heart sank – I immediately guessed the reason.

At this time of the occupation, housing had become a real problem So many German troops were now in the island that everywhere houses were being commandeered for their use. Usually civilians were given just six hours to vacate the property and find other accommodation…but where? Would it mean going back to that tiny church attic ‘apartment’?

 My mind raced and my heart pounded as I thought of the room upstairs with the contents of the jeweller’s shop. Some had been disposed of by the aunt of the owners to various people anxious to buy but most still remained. What a haul some German soldiers were going to get now! Subconsciously I breathed a brief prayer of I-know-not-exactly-what.

“The officer would like to see over the house,” the interpreter said, and at that very moment a sound met my ears that had never been so welcome. Michael had woken up and let out a loud, prolonged cry. The officer spun around, walked over to the pram and stared down at the little red, puckered face of the blue-eyed, fair-headed baby. Pausing for a few seconds, he turned to the interpreter and spoke to him in German. “The officer wishes to know, is this your baby?” the interpreter asked. Hesitantly I nodded and answered a nervous “Yes.” The officer looked again at the baby, who had now stopped crying, then turned and spoke once more in German. “The officer says he will not turn you out with such a small child,” the Guernseyman said. With that, the officer gave a slight bow, clicked his heels and the two of them turned and walked out through the gate.

I don’t recall if I cried with relief – (I guess I did as, those who knew me will remember, tears are never far from my eyes, either from joy or sorrow). But I do know one thing I did was to acknowledge that this was my Heavenly Father’s care in action. The Psalmist wrote “The Lord shall preserve your going out and you’re coming in…” and how He had done that for us that afternoon! Often I had thought…if I had not gone to town instead of the park that afternoon…had I not left the pram at the front door…if Michael had not cried at that precise moment…how very different and difficult the next two and a half years could have been. I give thanks to The Lord for ever remembrance of  these amazing interventions – trivial to some people, I expect – very vital to me at that time, I can assure you. 

It should be noted that not all of the occupying forces were considered by the Islands’ population to be truly ‘The Enemy’. As the war progressed and the fighting across Europe became more fierce, the elite troops who had arrived in the earliest occupation days were rotated as they were required at the many ‘fronts’ developing across the European theatre. Replacements were frequently less fanatical, less experienced and, consequently, less eager for confrontation with the enemy in battle. The occupation role suited many of them well. As space in barracks ran short, many were billeted with Island families, with whom friendships frequently grew. Often, one would be placed in a house where there were children, reminding him of his own family back home. Photos would be shown, stories told and experiences shared and before long they were part of the family…only to be sadly torn apart when transferred to other postings. Many of the friendships outlasted the war and culminated with the officer’s return to the Island in peacetime, bringing wife and children to meet their husband’s and father’s hosts.

Similar situations arose at administrative levels. One highly ranked secretary in the Guernsey Procurer’s office noted in his diary, “The bread ration is less than 3lb. a week…and there I was talking to a German – and laughing with him too – a man whom I knew to be hating the very thought of the task he was called upon to do.”  He found it impossible to see this man day after day without getting to know something of himself, his background and family and in that situation not allow a friendship to spring up between him and his opposite number.

In reality, there was a great deal of respect between the leaders of the invaders and the invaded. It is said that Dr Symonds, in charge of Guernsey’s medical and health services became a good friend of the Chief German Medical Officer, Dr Lorenz – an adamant ‘anti-Nazi’. The story goes that Symonds would often invite Lorenz to his home where they would sit, talk and curse Hitler together! 

The Guernsey Civilian Harbour Master, Capt. Franklin and the German harbour boss, Kapitanleutnant Obermeyer eventually came to an agreement regarding their shared responsibility for the operation of both St Sampson’s and St Peter Port’s harbours. The two were frequently heard at night in their office, singing sea-shanties and sharing a bottle of the hospitable Obermeyer’s finest liquor. These evenings, reputedly, came to a conclusion with the same toast, “To the war’s end!”