An Island at War

by Deborah Carr

  ‘It’s best not to think about such things until we have to, love. Hopefully, he has managed to leave. Tell me the next one.’

  ‘We have to make up blackout blinds for all the windows. Tonight.’

  ‘You’ll enjoy that,’ her grandmother teased, throwing a pea over to Estelle, who caught it and popped it into her mouth, chewed the sweet vegetable, and swallowed.

  Estelle puffed out her cheeks. ‘Fine. And at least it says here that the banks and shops are remaining open, as before. But we’ve got to put all our clocks and watches forward one hour tonight, so we’re on German time. These Nazis aren’t wasting any time changing how we do things here, are they?’

  ‘They’re not. I think it’s a liberty,’ Gran grumbled. ‘But I’m really more concerned about Gerard and the other young men who might be stuck here now. The Germans won’t want to think that there’s anyone here who could retaliate, and fit young farmers would be the ones to be able to at least try and stand up to them. I never thought we’d be fighting with them again. We were always told that the last war was the war to end all wars.’

  ‘If only that was true,’ Estelle replied.

  The following morning, Estelle accompanied her grandmother on the bus into St Helier. They decided to try to get to Town Hall before 10 o’clock when British sailors, soldiers and any airmen on leave had been ordered to report to the Kommandant.

  Once they stepped off the bus and couldn’t be overheard, Gran said, ‘You have to listen to me, now, Estelle.’

  Unnerved, Estelle nodded. ‘What is it?’

  ‘You must remember at all times not to make eye contact with these men.’ The older woman hesitated. ‘In fact, if you are able to, cross over to the other side of the road to avoid them whenever you can.’

  A German military car drove past them, the unmissable red-and-black insignia flapping.

  ‘Don’t speak unless spoken to and whatever you do don’t accept help from them. We’re at war now, my girl. We have to be alert at all times and I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you. Promise me you’ll take care.’

  ‘I promise, Gran.’ An unease was forming in the pit of Estelle’s stomach and the fear in her grandmother’s eyes was one she wouldn’t forget for a long time.

  The crowds were getting bigger the closer they got to the centre of town and her grandmother turned to her again. ‘These men are smart and may try to be friendly but they are the enemy. Never forget that.’

  Estelle gave her grandmother a reassuring squeeze to her hand. ‘I won’t forget, I promise you.’

  ‘Good girl.’

  As they walked past Charing Cross, Estelle couldn’t ignore the red-and-black flag hanging from Town Hall. The material fluttered gently in the breeze, the black swastika rippling in and out of view. She hesitated, shocked at the sight. ‘I can’t imagine anything being right ever again, can you Gran?’

  Her grandmother didn’t reply but linked her arm through Estelle’s. ‘We must be careful not to lose each other.’

  They pushed their way through the vast crowds of people milling about, trying to find their relatives among the mostly civilian-dressed men standing solemnly between armed German guards in front of the building. The sight of Nazi uniforms, which, until now, Estelle had only seen in newsreels at the cinema, was a sobering sight. She couldn’t take her eyes off a small group of soldiers watching from the top of the steps at Town Hall, their intense focus on the locals sending chills running down her spine despite the heat of the summer day.

  ‘Keep walking,’ Gran said, tugging her forward. ‘And, for pity’s sake, stop staring at them.’

  How different St Helier was to the last time she had come here. Back then, everyone had seemed carefree as they went about their business, stopping every so often to pass the time of day with friends. Now, though, the sense of oppression was unmistakable. As Estelle studied the people around her, she saw fear in her fellow islanders’ eyes. Like her, they seemed unsure how to behave.

  She spotted one man, his head bent as he shrugged his wife’s hand from his shoulder, arguing with her as she pleaded with him about something. Both voices were low, so Estelle couldn’t hear what they were saying but, by the look of fury and defiance on the man’s face, he was distressed and clearly wanted to fight back. She didn’t blame him for wanting to stand up for his island; she knew Gerard would be feeling the same way. She hoped he would be careful.

  Finally, managing to manoeuvre their way to the front of the pavement as close to Town Hall as possible, they stood scanning the crowd.

  It was then that Estelle covered her mouth in shock, as she saw Gerard standing among the assembled men, all waiting to be registered. ‘There’s Gerard,’ she said, pointing him out to her grandmother. She stood on tiptoes and waved her arm above her head, hoping he might see her. He looked in her direction but didn’t seem to notice her. Frustrated, she took a deep breath to call out to him. ‘Ger—’

  Immediately, her grandmother grabbed Estelle’s wrist and pulled her hand down to her side. ‘What are you doing?’ she hissed, her eyes wide. ‘Don’t draw attention to yourself like that, you silly girl.’

  She just wanted Gerard to know she was there. That she was with him in some way. But she mouthed an apology to her grandmother.

  ‘Things have changed now, lovey. Remember what I told you,’ she added, keeping her voice so low that Estelle struggled to hear her. ‘We’re two women living alone now on an island invaded by men with more power than us, and guns.’

  Estelle nodded and looked back towards Gerard. All the captive Jersey men, including her sweetheart, had their shoulders back and chins held high in proud defiance. A lump formed in her throat as she wondered what was going to happen to them. Sunlight glinted off the metal of the rifles the German soldiers confidently held in front of them.

  A woman in the crowd cried out a man’s name and Estelle glanced over in her direction. Her gran nudged her. ‘He’s seen you.’

  Confused, Estelle gazed back at her gran.

  ‘Gerard. He’s trying to get your attention.’

  She gasped, horrified that she might have missed the opportunity to let him know she was there for him. She turned her attention back to him, forcing a smile, wishing she could run to him and hold him, if only for a moment. Gerard looked at her and mouthed ‘It’s all right.’

  Then, suddenly, an officer barked out an order in German and immediately the men were pushed backwards. Estelle couldn’t bear the thought that this might be the last time she saw Gerard. He gave her a sad, resigned smile.

  ‘They’re being so brave,’ Gran said, her voice catching with emotion.

  ‘They are. If only he had managed to catch his boat, after all.’ Her heart ached for him. Gerard was a man used to being outside in the fields and taking daily swims in the sea. His passion for life is what she loved about him. She fervently hoped that he wouldn’t be locked up in a cell somewhere, it would kill him, or at least his spirit if that were to happen.

  ‘Poor boys,’ Gran said, stoically.

  She put her arm around her grandmother’s shoulders and held her tightly.

  They watched as the British soldiers were paraded in front of Town Hall and the newly appointed Kommandant to Jersey, Captain Gussek, before being marched away down the tree-lined street in the direction of the prison. It was heartbreaking to watch the forlorn men, their shoulders back and heads held high in defiance at being kept from fighting with their units for their country. Their war over before it had begun. Estelle knew each of them would rather be with their families or away fighting for their freedom than imprisoned on the island and powerless to do anything. She had heard that many of them, like Gerard, had also been home on leave when things took a turn for the worse. Now they were trapped here. As they all were.

  They watched the men as they were led away down the road. Several of them being pushed with the butts of German rifles to keep them in line.

  Estelle was lost in her own thoug
hts until her grandmother tapped the wicker basket hanging from the young woman’s right arm to remind her that she was still carrying her father’s gun and ammunition inside it.

  ‘Come on. He’s a clever, strong lad. He’ll be fine. But we’d better get a move on if we’re to walk to the Town Arsenal to deliver this before the queue is too long,’ she whispered. ‘My feet are already starting to ache, and I don’t want to have to stand around for hours.’

  The two women made their way along The Parade, before turning right at the top of the road when they reached Cheapside. The Town Arsenal wasn’t too far but their progress was slow for all the commotion in town as locals hurriedly made preparations for their life under occupation.

  ‘For Pity’s sake,’ Gran grumbled. ‘Look at that dratted queue. And here’s me thinking we’d be right near the front.’ The line of islanders waiting to hand in their any personal arms they might have owned went right down the road.

  There was nothing for it but to join the back of the queue.

  Estelle was about to ask her grandmother if she wanted to entrust her with the handing in of the gun on her own, when her grandmother withdrew it from under her purse. ‘Here, take this will you?’ She handed her the Webley service revolver that Estelle’s father had treasured since being given it by one of his cousins just after the First World War. Estelle pushed her hand back into her basket. ‘Hang on a second.’

  She felt the weight of her father’s gun in her hand as her grandmother took out an almost full box of ammunition and passed it over to her. ‘Take these, too.’ She noticed that Estelle didn’t have a handbag and, removing her purse out of her basket, passed it to Estelle. ‘You’d better put them in here,’ she said. ‘You don’t want to give the Jerries the wrong idea.’

  Estelle did as she was told and, taking her handkerchief from her dress pocket, shook it to unfold it, then placed the neatly ironed square of linen over the two items and waited for her grandmother to speak again.

  ‘Wait, I think I see Violet over there.’ Estelle followed her grandmother’s line of vision but couldn’t see anyone she recognised in the crowd of people gathering near the building. Then she spotted her. ‘Mrs Le Marrec!’

  Violet came over to them but her grandmother’s friend looked as miserable as Estelle felt, excusing herself as she walked in front of people to reach them, shaking her head at the same time. ‘What a strange day this is. I never thought I’d see the likes of what’s happening. And all those boys, marched around at gunpoint. I see your Gerard didn’t manage to get off the island, Estelle?’

  Estelle thought back to the short glimpse she’d had of her sweetheart in the square. ‘It was horrible to see Gerard like that.’

  ‘Poor lad.’ Violet and her gran swapped glances. ‘You going to be long here, do you think? Or shall I wait for you and we can all catch the bus back to St Ouen together? I have to admit I don’t feel as comfortable travelling home on my own with all these Jerries around now.’ The three of them stared in silence at a nearby soldier who was standing guard, his rifle ready at the slightest sign of trouble.

  ‘If you’re happy for me to, I think I’ll catch the next bus home with Violet, lovey,’ Gran said. ‘Those of us who were alive in ’18 never thought we would be at war with Germany again. Seeing that dratted flag is all a bit much for me.’ Gran frowned. ‘You don’t mind me leaving you here to do this, do you?’

  Estelle shook her head and bent to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. ‘Not at all. Do you need me to buy anything for you while I’m in town?’

  ‘No, It’s fine. I’ll see you back at the house later on. Don’t stay out too long though. These are worrying times and I think it’s safer to stay close to home until things settle down a bit.’ She looked over at a handsome younger soldier trying to make polite conversation to a couple of girls who seemed uncertain about how to respond to him. ‘At least until we get the measure of this lot.’

  Estelle watched her leave and stepped forward as the queue moved towards the door. As she slowly inched forward along with the others waiting patiently.

  Then, someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder. ‘Estelle.’

  Recognising the voice, she turned to see her old school friend Antoinette, and relaxed slightly now she was in familiar company. ‘I’m so glad to see you,’ Estelle said, reaching out to stroke Antoinette’s baby boy’s chubby cheek. ‘And how is little Louis doing? He looks very bonny. Don’t you sweetheart?’

  Before her friend could answer, the thundering of boots filled the air. Everyone in the queue tensed and turned to look in the direction of the road. The quiet bits of chatter that had been going on fell silent. German soldiers marched passed and as the sound of their jackboots stamping on the tarmac subsided the people standing in the queue began to breathe more easily once more.

  ‘You’re so lucky to live out of town,’ Antoinette said quietly. ‘My heart pounds every time I hear those damn boots stamping through the streets near our place and I can’t tell you the amount of times they’ve woken Louis with all the noise they make.’ Louis began whining and Estelle smiled at him and tried to distract him as his mother continued: ‘And they’re always in the shops buying everything up and acting all superior.’

  Estelle had had so little contact with the Germans so far and thought again how lucky she was to live away from town. Still it riled her to think about the distress her friend was going through. ‘I wish we could do something about them. Show them this is still our island. Our home,’ she muttered. ‘But you’re coping?’

  ‘Just about. It helps that Paul’s here.’

  Estelle was stunned that Antoinette’s husband was on the island. ‘But I thought he had joined the RAF?’

  ‘He did but came back on leave to check up on us and got stuck here like the rest of them. I just worry about what will happen to him long-term. I mean, I can’t see the Germans letting ninety-odd British soldiers wander freely around the island, can you?’

  Estelle shook her head. ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘My dad says that we’re buggered now the War Cabinet have demilitarised the island.’

  ‘Don’t say that. It won’t help us to think that way.’

  Antoinette sighed. ‘But I can’t help worrying that he’s right.’

  Estelle shrugged, unsure what she believed right now. The queue moved forward once more and Estelle was waved in the direction of one desk while Antoinette was sent to another. She glanced down at the handkerchief in her basket concealing the gun. A soldier approached her and said something. Estelle’s skin crawled and her thoughts turned to her father. The way he was brutally gunned down while he was just going about his day. The German’s demeanour was pleasant but nothing could detract from him being a Nazi. From being one of them. The reason Rosie had been sent away and her father was dead. A small part of Estelle wished she had the courage to use her father’s gun on the young man. She looked over at several other Germans, talking and laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world. She’d like to shoot them all.

  ‘Fräulein, you must come this way,’ the soldier said politely as he indicated that it was her turn.

  She walked forward.

  ‘Who owns this firearm?’

  ‘My father.’

  ‘Your father did not think to surrender it himself?’ An officious soldier at the desk asked.

  ‘He couldn’t.’ Her heart pounded and she clenched her fists tightly as she felt a burning anger start to rise up inside her.

  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘Because one of your pilots shot and killed him four days ago,’ she snapped, unable to help herself.

  ‘You tell ’im, love.’ An older woman cheered behind her.

  ‘You will be silent!’ The officious soldier glared at the woman, who sensibly closed her mouth but refused to stare down at the ground.

  Estelle watched as the soldier made a note she couldn’t decipher on the form. Without even looking up, he said, ‘You may go.’

&n
bsp; As she walked out of the Town Arsenal, Estelle suddenly remembered that her father had also owned a shotgun. She hadn’t seen it for a long time but he had definitely mentioned it only the other day, before he died, and that he needed to clean it. But why hadn’t her grandmother mentioned surrendering it along with the revolver. Estelle didn’t like to think too much about what that precaution might be in aid of. She would have to wait and hope it wouldn’t be a necessity. The last thing she or Gran needed was to be arrested for failing to surrender a firearm when the sentenced carried a prison term. How would they cope if they were separated? And what would a stay in prison even be like with the Nazis in charge?

  Desperate to leave town, she hurried passed Summerland, the local clothes factory, on her way back to the bus station. She was halfway along The Parade when she saw several soldiers chatting and laughing on the opposite pavement to her. It infuriated Estelle again to see these invaders giving no thought to what they’d done. To stand and chat happily on her island’s streets when Gerard and the others were locked away somewhere. When her dear father could no longer walk these same streets. How dare they? She was so filled with loathing as she peered at them from the corner of her eye that she almost slammed into another soldier in her haste.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her careering into him. ‘Slow down, Fräulein.’

  Estelle’s breath caught in her throat and she recoiled instantly at his touch. How could she have been so stupid not to pay attention? She tried to steady her breathing and not let him see how frightened she was to have come face-to-face with him.

  The man stared into her eyes until his piercing gaze unnerved Estelle so much that she was forced to lower her gaze to the pavement.

  ‘Something is wrong?’ She could hear the amusement in his voice. He was enjoying her obvious discomfort.

  ‘You will answer me.’