by Libby Cone
Peter told her a little about his journeys of horror in the Channel, first to Alderney, then to Jersey. He could not yet mention Juan. She told him about her escape to St Brelade, about Lucille and Suzanne, about her fears for them in prison. He told her about Pauline and Dieter; her hand, her whole body suddenly stiffened.
‘What did Pauline look like?’ she asked in a tight voice.
‘She was tall.’
‘Did she have red hair?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Oh, no. Oh, no.’ She turned away from him; he could feel her shaking. ‘Marlene. What is trouble? What?’
‘Was - was she all right? Did she go to prison?’
‘I don’t know. We all ran in different places when the Germans came.’
‘No, I mean had she been in prison before you met her?’
‘Yes. I think that is how she hurt her leg.’
‘Oh, God! I did it to her! I betrayed her!’
‘What is this, Marlene? What you mean?’
Between sobs, she was able to slowly tell him.
‘A long time ago, I saw her with a German. I thought she was a jerrybag. I thought she informed on me. When I saw her again on the street when I was with Lucille and Suzanne, I told them she was a jerrybag. They knew who to tell. I did that to her, and she was really a heroine! I could have killed her! Oh, God, I was so stupid! It’s my fault, whatever is wrong with her leg! Whatever they did to her!’
He was desperate to quiet her; her crying was so loud.
‘Marlene,’ he said, his panic rising, ‘please do not cry. Marlene, you did not know. She was all right. She was very smart woman. She had job at the hotel and she stole food for us all the time, and never get caught. She helped the poor soldier, Dieter, and the Jewish lady.’
She struggled to control herself. She finally managed to croak out the words, ‘What Jewish lady? I knew all of them.’
‘Miss Viner, a teacher.’
She sat up; he tried to make her lie down again but her face was wild, flushed.
‘Viner? Viner?’
‘Yes, an older lady. She was very nice. She teach me English. I hope she escape all right. I hope she in someone’s house.’
‘I destroyed her identity card. Oh, God, this is crazy! Am I a good person or a bad person?’
‘You a very good person, dear Marlene.’
‘No, NO! I don’t know!’
She spent the rest of the muggy day passing in and out of sleep, her head pounding as if blacksmiths were inside her skull. Occasionally she got up, went outside as far as she could go before she was overtaken by violent vomiting. Peter, distraught, tried to let her sleep. As soon as darkness came he slipped out and looked for food.
She was sleeping in the dark when he returned.
‘Marlene, please eat. I have some rabbit and a bottle of milk. It is very good.’
She sat up. She felt empty of everything. She took the meat and milk and ate and drank slowly, not saying anything to Peter as he ate quietly in the dark.
CHAPTER 56
St Brelade, Jersey
July 1944
Every evening Marlene would wake up and the problem would be sitting on her chest: was she good or bad? Peter felt helpless. On days when she was able to convince herself that she was good, she helped Peter find food, washed rags in the stream, held him when it wasn’t too hot during the day. On days when she was convinced of her carelessness and evil, she stayed under her pile of rags, ate nothing, drank a little water, and rehearsed conversations with Pauline. I didn’t know, I was afraid for my life, I’m a bad person, I’m responsible for your lameness, you can punish me in any way you wish.
Pauline would never answer with kindness or forgiveness on the evil days. Do you know what they did to me? Do you know what it did to my mother? Do you know how many people died because of you?
Peter did not understand this daily court she convened for herself. His English wasn’t good enough to enable him to discuss this with Marlene much, except to testify, ‘You are good, Marlene. You always do what you think right.’ He was far too much in love with her now to consider this behaviour to be a liability.
CHAPTER 57
Gloucester Street Prison
August 1944
Second Interrogation
Lucy was let out by Otto, and escorted down the hallway and up the stairs by the nurse. She sat up straight in the proffered chair and observed the same cast of characters. Major Lohse looked the same, shuffling papers while looking out into space, thinking of God knows what. Everyone else wore serious expressions probably practised for this situation. After a few minutes, Lohse looked up at her.
‘Miss Schwob.’
‘Yes.’
‘Today I want to ask you about a document labelled as a “Song”, which mentions the various fronts of the war, implies the soldiers’ wives are bearing children by other men, and, most serious of all, urges the troops to “overthrow our masters”. Are you familiar with it?’
‘Yes.’
It was rather pathetic, the way he dragged the items out, trying to make a tidy case.
‘This, too, is signed by the “Soldier Without a Name”. Did you have anything to do with it?’
‘Yes.’
‘It is very serious, Miss Schwob, to incite mutiny. Are you aware of that?’
‘Yes, I am. It is also a very serious thing to invade another country for no reason.’
Lohse looked pained, as if he had just bitten his tongue.
‘We shall not discuss that, Miss Schwob.’
‘Very well.’ Her flea bites were itchy, but she tried not to scratch in front of her inquisitors. She inhaled deeply, savouring the clean smell of the room.
‘But you do admit writing this “Song”?’
‘Yes, I do.’
He looked at it again, frowning. ‘It is vulgar,’ he said, not looking up at Lucy. Then, as if he were a powerful critic trying not to crush young talent, he continued, ‘But there are types of men on whom this kind of thing would be very effective.’
Does he want me to thank him? Lucy wondered, amused. The session ended abruptly. Instead of being returned directly to her cell, Otto locked her in the tiny courtyard where she sometimes exercised. It reminded her of ballet scenery by Utrillo, a tall expanse of masonry, slightly claustrophobic. She had a little energy today, grabbed a horizontal iron bar and swung from it, stretching her arms deliciously. She could hear many of the other prisoners, shouting to the jailers, talking to their cellmates. A few waved to her from their grimy windows. She imagined herself a ballerina in costume, playing some female ascetic, and stretched her bony frame with the help of the bars. Then Otto returned, and took her back to her cell.
CHAPTER 58
West Winds,
Portelet Rd,
St. Brelade’s
Sept. 17th, 1944
[To:] The Bailiff
Dear Sir,
I am just stating the following facts re my wrongful evacuation to France and Germany from Feb. 13th. 1943 to April 25th. 1944. I wish to put in a claim through the British Government on the following grounds, the facts concerning myself as stated at the Aliens’ Office were not explained at College House I was already in France by that time it was too late I had to go on to Germany to open my case as I was catholic on my mother’s side I would on no account have been taken away I have the letter fm Col. Knackfuss granting my return on these grounds but there was a lot of delay as all the papers etc had to go to Berlin via Stuttgart and Paris. I went alone and left my two small children here and my husband who was ill most of the winter and is still far from well today also my boy was fretting and under the doctor’s care most of the time I was away. My home and everything has all been neglected also I have lost all my personal stuff it is somewhere on the continent I shall never see it again I value it at the very least £50 and £5.16.0 I have had to pay out for necessary winter underwear which is very hard considering my husband’s business has been closed since last Jan
uary by order of the German Authorities. I wish those facts stated to the representative of the British Government who is dealing with such cases I can give all the necessary details and letters at a personal interview.
I went to register at the Aliens Office at the time an order was brought out concerning Jews as I am of Jewish origin on my Grandfather’s side only I thought at the time it concerned me but if all the facts concerning myself had been fully explained to the German Authorities, there would have been no question of my being sent away I wish to know why these facts have been suppressed and wish the matter gone into, on these grounds I claim compensation and also for the loss of my clothing etc and expenses I have had to meet since coming back which would not have occurred otherwise.
Thanking you,
Yours Faithfully,
(Mrs) P. Lloyd.
23rd September, 1944
The Bailiff of Jersey.
Sir,
With reference to the attached letter which you received from Mrs Lloyd, of West Winds, Portelet Road, St. Brelade, I have the honour to report to you that Mrs Lloyd registered at this office under the Order concerning the registration of Jews in Jersey (Registered by Act of the Royal Court, dated October 21st. 1940). A copy of the completed registration form, signed by Mrs Lloyd, is forwarded to you herewith, in duplicate, for your information.
In each case of registration, the person concerned was told by me that the responsibility for registering or not registering under the Order rested entirely with the individual concerned, and Mrs Lloyd was informed accordingly.
I wish to state, in conclusion, that I had no knowledge whatever of the intended transportation of Mrs Lloyd and other registered Jewish persons in 1943 until after it had actually taken place.
I have the honour to be, Sir,
Your obedient servant,
[Clifford Orange]
Chief Aliens Officer.
CHAPTER 59
St Brelade, Jersey
31 October 1944
They were eating a raw swede with sour milk when the frenetic staccato of anti-aircraft fire startled them. They stood, holding the crude double sleeping bag Marlene had cobbled together around themselves, and looked out the little window. The night sky was malignant with tracer bullets and live fire. Suddenly, a plane seemed to stagger downwards; unlike most flyovers, it was fully lit up.
‘Those lights mean they surrender,’ whispered Peter. ‘They should stop shooting.’
Marlene held her breath. The shooting continued, and the plane shuddered out of sight, in the direction of the bay. They could not see what was illuminated in the searchlights: soldiers crowding around the plane in the shallow water, pulling out dead crew, unable to look at the pilot wading to shore, shaking his fists and cursing them, shaming the two officers who finally took him into custody.
Marlene began to cry. Peter held her close in the frigid darkness, began to murmur something, by turns guttural and sibilant.
‘What are you saying?’ she asked.
‘A prayer. I do not know why. I do not believe in a God.’
‘What is the prayer?’
‘Yisgadal v’yiskadash shemey rabah.’
‘What is that?’
‘It is a prayer for the dead.’
‘Is that Polish?’
He chuckled. ‘No, it is Hebrew, or something like Hebrew.’
‘I had forgotten you were Jewish.’
‘So had I,’ he said.
She did not quite understand what he meant, but, sensing his discomfort, did not pursue it. She felt for her coat, dug around in the now-ratty lining, and found the cup.
‘This was my father’s,’ she said. He felt it with his fingers.
‘Oh, this is kiddush cup. You father, he was Jew?’
‘Yes.’
He felt he might as well tell her a little about the Spanish Civil War.
‘There were many Jews in the Dombrowskis.’
‘Who were the Dombrowskis?’
‘We were International Brigade in Spanish war. We fought against Franco, against fascists, but we lost. We retreat and the French put us in camps. I was in Le Vernet camp before I go to Alderney.’
‘Why didn’t you go back to Poland?’
He sighed. ‘I cannot go back to Poland. Nobody from Spanish war can go back to Poland. They signed papers in Munich in 1938 to make peace with Nazis. We cannot go back. We are not citizens any more. Do you remember the Munich meeting in 1938? Was it on wireless?’
‘I don’t remember. I did not pay attention to those things.’
‘Ah, maidel, many people did not pay attention.’
‘So you went from one war to the next.’
‘Yes, but I was not prisoner in Spanish war. Now I am prisoner of Nazis. But Pauline’ - as soon as he said the name he wanted to take it back – ‘and now you, my little camarada, my little maidel, saved me.’
‘I didn’t save you, Peter, I just escaped to your hiding place. I... I am not even a help to you.’
‘Yes, you are, camarada. You are help.’
‘Finish your prayer.’
He finished. She said ‘Amen’ with him. Then, to be helpful, she fiddled with the crystal set and found him music.
CHAPTER 60
Gloucester Street Prison
October 1944
Tapping on her pipes interrupted her thoughts after the latest interrogation. The Germans were going through the motions of preparing to hold a trial. Micky, a captured Jersey escapee in the basement, was signalling her. She bent to the ground and whispered through the hole.
‘Hi, Micky. I’m back. Want a cigarette?’
‘Yes, please, if you can spare it.’
She dropped the cigarette down the opening, sending it on its way through ancient dust and mouse shit to its recipient.
‘What’s up tonight?’ she whispered.
‘I’ll pass you some news. I think we’ll also have a concert.’
‘Wonderful!’
That night, after their ‘dinner’, Micky and his cellmates, at Lucy’s request, sang some old Jersian songs for her, accompanied on an ancient harmonica and much enthusiastic beating on the pipes. The guards did nothing. News was whispered up to her; someone had a radio, or a relative with a radio who visited. ‘Rommel committed suicide! The Allies besieged Aachen and bombed the hell out of it! Thousands of jerries surrendered! Maybe now they’ll call it“ Aix-La-Chapelle” again!’
All they needed was some food; unfortunately, things were as bad on the outside as they were inside. Edna, one of their St Brelade neighbours, was able to bring them the occasional half-loaf of bread or beetroot syrup or apple, but she couldn’t manage the bicycle ride over very often. It was difficult enough managing to live on the outside, spending hours scrounging for bits of firewood, trying to make something edible out of potatoes and shrivelled swedes.
The next morning, after a relatively uninterrupted night’s sleep, Lucy winked at other prisoners at the bath as they filled their basins. Otto seemed to allow her to interact with others, as long as she did not see Suzanne. She lugged her heavy basin back to her cell and was locked in by a jailer. As she was rubbing the cold water into her face, Lucy heard Otto’s heavy step coming down the hall, along with another man, who turned out to be Lohse, looking preoccupied as usual.
Lohse stopped in front of her cell and called to Otto, ‘The little one comes, too.’
Otto looked outraged; he expended so much effort keeping Lucy and Suzanne separated.
Lucy’s heart pounded as he unlocked her cell door and let her out. It continued its thumping as she was escorted down the corridor and up the stairs to the hearing room, where Suzanne sat in front of the nurse. Their eyes locked as she sat next to Suzanne and Lohse took his place beside the Unknown Soldier. Suzanne looked thinner, of course, but very strong. She gave Lucy a fleeting smile; more would be frowned upon by the Krauts. Lucy’s heart swelled with love. She managed to touch Suzanne’s arm as she sat down; this was overlooked.
Oberleutnant Lung and Oberst Sarmsen strode into the room and saluted Lohse. Lohse turned to the women.
‘This is Leutnant Lung, who will prosecute at your trial.’
They nodded at him. He looked at them the way one might look at naughty dogs who had soiled the floor. Sarmsen did not look at them.
Lucy looked at Lohse and asked, ‘And when does our trial begin?’
‘In a week or two.’
‘Do we have a defence counsel?’
Lung looked more disgusted. ‘Yes, Miss Schwob, you will have Oberst Sarmsen.’
Wonderful, they both thought. One of the men who arrested us. The Oberst then turned to them. ‘May we discuss your case now?’
Lucy had to fight not to give a flippant answer; Suzanne was perfectly composed. This difference in dealing with enemies would be one of the few bones of contention between them.
‘Yes,’ Lucy managed to rasp, ‘let us discuss it.’
They were left alone with Sarmsen, who began to explain.
‘In the New Reich, the role of the Defence is not, as in other countries, to pretend against all truth that the guilty are innocent. It is limited to stressing extenuating circumstances and pleading in mitigation.’
‘That is very reasonable,’ replied Lucy. Suzanne looked at her apprehensively. ‘But in our case it does not apply. The Defence could hardly deny facts that we have admitted from the very moment of our arrest.’
‘But you were also in possession of a wireless, which broadcast misleading and bestial propaganda from the enemy, which influenced you negatively, causing you to commit serious crimes. That is mitigating, Miss Schwob.’
‘I take it,’ Lucy said, managing a polite tone that momentarily reassured Suzanne, ‘whatever the charges are in the administration of justice in the New Reich, Counsel for the Defence is not expected to insult his clients?’