The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII

by Marion Kummerow

  “We should stop them scaring the birds, it isn’t kind,” Rachel said.

  “Let them be children. They haven’t had much chance over the last few years. The birds will be just fine.” Maggie looked like a queen bee sitting on the blanket under the big apple tree. Not that she hadn’t tried to dig the garden, but Rachel and Sally refused to let her.

  “You keep Liesl out of trouble. That’s enough of a job for anyone.” Sally smiled at the baby she considered hers. She couldn’t help it. Liesl, sensing she was being talked about, looked up from the hole she was digging with her hands and giggled.

  “Look at her, you can’t see any pink on her skin anymore, it’s all mud.”

  “She’ll wash.”

  “Aunt Sally, can we collect the eggs now?” Tom stood in front of her, his shadow, Ruth, standing behind him.

  “Later Tom, it’s a little too early.”

  “Aww, please. I want to show Ruth I can get them without Mrs. Hitler pecking me.”

  Sally threw her eyes up to heaven. “Go on then but don’t break them. Maggie and I have to bake cakes tomorrow. For the cake sale.”

  Tom and Ruth ran off toward the chicken shed.

  “Wish they were as keen on cleaning the shed as they are on collecting eggs. Maggie Ardle, you never told me how much dirt, chickens make.”

  “If I had, you wouldn’t have got them, now would you?” Maggie replied.

  Rachel laughed. “You two are like little children sometimes, always teasing each other.”

  “How’s Goebbels and Goering doing?” Maggie asked Rachel.

  Rachel wrinkled her nose. “They smell so bad. Constable Halton is sorry he decided to keep the village pigs near the station. Said he should have set them up in the wild, especially when the wind blows a certain way.”

  Maggie rubbed her stomach. “I can’t wait for a decent fry up. Fresh eggs and bacon.”

  Rachel pretended to be ill.

  “I know you don’t want to eat the pigs when they are slaughtered but you will be glad of the chocolate I get.”

  Puzzled, Rachel asked, “how can you turn Goebbels and Goering into chocolate?”

  “We can trade your share with Mr. Callaghan at the shop.”

  “My share? I don’t own those pigs.”

  “You do. I took out a share in your name. You deserve it, aren’t you the one who takes the scraps down there every day?”

  “Oh.” Rachel didn’t look too certain.

  “Maggie’s teasing you love. Not about the chocolate but about the pigs. All the families who feed them will get an equal share.”

  “That’s better. I don’t think mama would like me to be involved with pigs. She was very strict about keeping kosher while we were growing up. But then things changed and it wasn’t possible any more. One of her uncles starved to death as he wouldn’t eat non-kosher food.”

  Sally looked at Maggie. What could you say to that?

  “Rachel, try to think of happier times,” Maggie said, squeezing the girl’s hand. “Speaking of which, do you want to help us bake cakes tomorrow?”

  “Me? I would but I am up at the hospital tomorrow, working the early shift.”

  “Silly me, I forgot about that. I bet your pretty face makes our boys feel better.”

  “Maggie!” Rachel blushed, her pink cheeks making her look prettier. “I best get home and do some reading for my English class. Reverend Collins likes to check my progress.”

  The girl almost ran out of the garden leaving Maggie and Sally laughing behind her.

  “I love days like this.”

  “Me too Sally, love, me too.”

  Sally cut open the envelope, not recognizing the handwriting on the front. She gasped as she saw the signature.

  “What’s wrong?” Maggie and Susan asked in unison. They’d gathered in Sally’s kitchen to bake some cakes for the Women’s Institute meeting.

  “News of Derek?” Maggie asked, as Sally remained quiet.

  Sally shook her head. “It’s Harry, he’s finally written and he’s safe. Living on the Isle of Man.” Sally quickly scanned the letter. Taking a seat, she read it out to her friends.

  Mrs. David Duncan

  10 Merryfield Terrace

  Douglas, Isle of Man.

  [date]

  Dear Sally

  I’m sorry for not writing. This is the first time I have had paper. I met a lady in the village, she is very nice and has promised to send this for me. If you write back to the above address, she will keep the letter for me.

  How are Tomas and Liesl? Please tell them I am fine and looking forward to seeing you all again soon.

  I have a new friend, Joseph. The same men who arrested me picked him up sometime later. He worries about his mother who wasn’t home when the army came to pick him up and the army refused to let him write a note to explain. An old employer of Joseph’s mother moved to England and rescued Joseph and his mother from Frankfurt, Germany. The old man got her a job here. But he has written to her now, so hopefully, she is happy.

  Can you please help me find out what happened to another friend, a Mr. Stephen Hillman? He’s lived in England since the last World War when he met and married his wife. He never got his papers. He was very kind to us, protected us from the worst of the camp. Not from the guards. They were alright. It was the Nazis they arrested who hate us Jews. Even in the camp where everyone was locked up and subjected to the same rules about food and such, they make our lives miserable. Things could have gotten bad for me and Joseph, if not for Mr. Hillman. The guards respected and liked him, as he could speak good English.

  I think he was lonely, as his wife died in a bombing raid. Mr. Hillman stopped them sending me and Joseph on the Arandora Star.. He had to go and we wanted to leave with him but we heard the boat sank. We hope he survived. Can you find out?

  After they took Mr. Hillman and the others away, they rounded us up but wouldn’t tell us where we were going. The guards who looked after us were worse than those who arrested us. The new ones had been to somewhere called Dunkirk and they hated us. They didn’t care we were Jews, not Nazis. They spat in our water, beat us and everything. But it still wasn’t as bad as Dachau and as you can see, I lived through it.

  When they put us on a small ship, I thought we were going to Canada or Australia but one sailor laughed when I said that. He said we would be lucky to stay afloat until we got to the Isle of Man. Have you ever been to Douglas? It is a nice place, with plenty of fresh air from the sea. I like it.

  I hope to see you soon. Please write back and if you can, please send me cigarettes. No, I don’t smoke now but they are useful for other purposes.

  Harry

  PS: My friend helps me with my English. I know it is not yet so good but I am working on it. Being a prisoner of war gives me time to study.

  PPS: Please address your letter to Mrs. Duncan. I don’t think I should get letters with my name on it.

  “Oh my goodness, he was lucky this Mr. Hillman stopped him going on the Arandora Star,” Maggie said, as she beat the eggs into the flour.

  “Why?” Susan asked. “Was it going to Canada or Australia or something?”

  “Canada but it didn’t get far. It sank off the coast of Ireland and most of those poor unfortunate refugees died. I didn’t know there were Germans on board, but I know there were lots of Italians. Didn’t you read about it in the Papers?”

  Susan blushed as Sally hastened to intervene.

  “Maggie, you know Susan doesn’t like to read the papers as they are full of bad news. Why would they send refugees to Canada or Australia?”

  Maggie beat her mixture quicker. “Maggie, you’ll ruin the cakes. Here give that to me.” Sally took the bowl out of the older woman’s hands which were now shaking. “Maggie, what’s the matter?”

  “They had all sorts on that boat. Italian families who’d lived here since before the last war. Maybe some of them were fascists, I don’t know, but they didn’t send Mosley and that wife of his, Dia
na Mitford, away on a boat, did they? They had Hitler and Goebbels as guests at their wedding. If anyone should have been sent off across a U-boat filled Atlantic, it should have been them.”

  Maggie blew her nose into her hanky.

  “Did you know my Reg was from Wales? Every year we went there for a week or so. He had a huge family, miners most of them. When he died, his family wrote to me and invited me to come on my own. After a few years, I was brave enough to go.

  Some of my friends were on that ship. I had a favorite shop where I went for ice-cream. My friend Luigi and his two brothers were all arrested, they’d been living here since the 1920s. Their kids and my Reg’s nieces and nephews played together. They hated Mussolini and all he represented. But they still came with guns for Luigi in the middle of the night. All three of the brothers were sent on that ship. Luigi escaped but one of the brothers, either Franco or Giuseppe, went back to the ship for his teeth.” Maggie let out a big sob. Both Sally and Susan were crying now too. They could barely make out what Maggie said next. “Those lovely men died because of a pair of false teeth.”

  Sally rubbed her eyes with her hanky. “Maggie don’t cry. Please don’t. I can’t bear to see you so sad. I didn’t know anything about your friends. Why didn’t you tell us?” She put the bowl to one side. They all needed a cup of tea. Hot tea always helped in a crisis. Maggie snuffled into her large hanky as she pulled herself together.

  “I couldn’t burden you. Not with you getting the news about Derek and worrying about Harry.”

  Sally put her arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “I am always here for you Maggie despite what I have going on in my life. We’re family, you and I.”

  Maggie gripped Sally’s arm, a couple of stray tears making their way down her cheeks. Susan coughed to clear her throat.

  “Do you think you will be able to trace Harry’s friend? Will the Government release that information?”

  Sally glanced at Maggie, but the older woman was miles away.

  “I’ve no idea, Susan but I can ask. I’m not sure about writing to this lady though. Why should I keep my letters to Harry a secret, surely that makes him look guilty of something?”

  “Best ask Constable Halton, as he’ll know the rules,” Maggie answered. “We don’t want Harry getting into more trouble. Reverend Collins is working on trying to get him released but he says Churchill’s view is that all enemy aliens should be interned for the duration of the war.”

  “Harry is no more an enemy alien than I am!” Sally exclaimed. She picked up the bowl, looking at the contents with dismay. “I don’t think our sponge will win any awards. We’ve beaten it so hard it will be as flat as a pancake.”

  “Turn it into some buns for the kiddies. They won’t be fussy. I’m sure I have some dried fruit at home. Let me run and see.” Susan was gone before they could argue. Sally sensed her friend and neighbor needed a weep in private. Susan hated anyone seeing her lose control.

  Sally poured Maggie another cup of tea.

  “Sally, the rations.”

  “The rations and the people who decide on such things can get stuffed. I’m having another cup of tea and so are you. So there.”

  Tom walked in the back door with his head glued to the comic he was reading.

  “Aunt Sally, have you finished baking yet? Only, I met Mrs. Shackleton-Driver in the village and she said to remind you the stall was open at 2 pm.” Tomas didn’t look up from his comic as he spoke.

  “Tom put down your comic and have some manners in front of guests.”

  Tomas quickly scanned the page before reluctantly putting the comic on the table. He looked at Maggie.

  “You aren’t really a guest. You’re always here.”

  “Tom Beck, don’t be rude,” Sally admonished him. But Maggie pulled him into her arms and gave the young boy a hug. He pushed her away, wiping his face on his sleeve.

  “Yuck, what did you do that for?”

  “Nothing wrong with a hug now and then, child. Sally has a surprise for you.”

  “A piece of cake? I’m starving.”

  “You’re always hungry, lad,” Sally said. “I got a letter. From Harry.”

  “Harry. Really? Where is he and when is he coming home? Can I read it?” Tom paused for a second. “Is it in German because my English reading isn’t too good.”

  “I’ll read it for you if you like.” Sally tussled his hair, making him smile.

  “Yeah. Can I go find Rachel, Ruth, and Liesl? They’ll want to hear the letter too.”

  “Go on then. We will have lunch here. Mrs. Shackleton-Driver can just wait for her cakes.

  “Can I tell her that? She’s really mean and says nasty things, especially to Rachel.”

  Sally and Maggie exchanged a look over his head.

  “No Tom, you leave Mrs. Shackleton-Driver to Maggie to deal with. Now, go find the girls.”

  Tom ran, screaming the girls’ names at the top of his voice.

  “The whole village will know you’ve had a letter. I’d suggest you speak to Constable Halton as soon as you can.”

  “I will Maggie but first what will we do about Rachel? What do you think that horrible woman has been saying?”

  “I don’t know, but I will handle her. It will give me an outlet for some of this anger I have growing inside of me.”

  Sally nodded, feeling just the tiniest twinge of sympathy for Mrs. Shackleton-Driver. Maggie rarely let her temper go but when she did, you stood back and thanked God you weren’t the target.

  Sally gave the letter to Rachel to read to the children while she finished the cakes for the Women’s Institute sale. The buns turned out very well, even if she did say so herself. The children happily ate two each and would have had more if she hadn’t rescued the plate.

  Staring at the four children around the table, she wondered how she would make them cakes, buns or anything nice now that everything seemed to be going on ration. She agreed with rationing in principle, it was unfair for some to horde tins of fruit, sugar, cigarettes and whatnot. But she couldn’t help think farmers had it luckier than most.

  Spotting the time, she tore off her apron and ran upstairs to put on a dash of lipstick and a spray of perfume that Derek had brought her on his last trip home. She closed her eyes and prayed for her husband, as she had every day since she’d gotten that horrible telegram. Despite having the remembrance service, she refused to believe he was dead. She’d know inside if he was.

  “Aunt Sally, you’re going to be very late,” Rachel called up the stairs, a worried edge to her voice. Rachel fretted a lot, particularly over upsetting the villagers. After Tom’s comment earlier, Sally could guess why.

  “Coming. Are you sure you don’t mind keeping the children here?”

  “I love it here,” Rachel said quietly. “We are going to write back to Heinz and tell him about mother’s letters.”

  Sally impulsively kissed the top of the girl’s head. So young yet she was carrying the weight of adult worries.

  “I won’t be long, I promise.” Sally picked up her cakes and stalked out the door, ready to do battle if she had to. There was no way on this planet Constable Halton was going to stop her from sending parcels to Heinz, now she knew where he was.

  When she got to the village hall, Susan caught up with her. “Did you hear Maggie and Mrs. Shackleton-Driver went at it hammer and tongs?”

  “They did?”

  “Maggie gave her a slap, right across her face. Left a red mark but the constable refused to arrest Maggie. Said Mrs. Shackleton-Driver should be happy she wasn’t the one being arrested.”

  “Why? What did she do?” Sally asked.

  “Seems she was spreading horrible rumors about Rachel being a German spy. How she was in bed, literally and figuratively with the Nazis. Said she’d heard Rachel got regular letters from her mother in Germany and as no letters got through the regular post, it must mean she was a spy.”

  Sally’s hands itched to slap Mrs. Shackleton-Driver herself.
What a horrid, mean, old woman.

  “Rachel got one letter from Sweden, not Germany. Anyway, its none of that woman’s business.”

  “The loss of her sons is making her worse.”

  Sally’s anger cooled a little. Jane Shackleton-Driver had lost twin sons in the Battle of Britain. She had always been a tyrant, but the news had pushed her over the edge.

  “I should go and speak to her.”

  “Who? Maggie? Reverend Collins took her home. He didn’t seem a bit pleased.”

  “I’ll see Maggie later. I meant Jane. I never sympathized with her over the loss of her children. Whatever else she is, she was a loving mother and adored those two lads of hers. No wonder she is lashing out.”

  Susan stared at her for a few seconds before she smiled. “Your heart is way too soft, Sally. Your mum was the same. Always looking out for other people.”

  Sally couldn’t talk about her mum. She missed her all the time but since the telegram arrived, she really wished she was here to give her a cuddle and tell her the world was going to get better. Things would go back to normal. To a time when men of Derek’s age and even younger, in the case of the Shackleton-Driver boys, weren’t killed and young girls like Rachel didn’t have to run for their lives.

  She handed Susan the cakes, asked her to take over her slot on the stall and went in search of Mrs. Shackleton-Driver. Her trip was in vain as the woman refused to see anyone. Her housekeeper dismissed Sally with a look that could have frozen the River Thames. Sally took the hint. Her next visit went much better with Constable Halton agreeing she should send Harry a parcel, care of the detention center in the Isle of Man.

  “Better being honest about things like this, Sally. Well-meaning gestures such as the lady sending on Harry’s letter could have landed both of them in a lot of hot water.”

  “You won’t turn the lady in, now will you, Constable?”

  “How could I?” Constable Halton winked at her. “You haven’t told me anything other than you found out where Harry was.”