‘I got a job as a clerk, just before the occupation. I wanted to be useful. I had ambitions to work my way off this island. Little chance of that now.’
‘You never know what’ll happen.’ He looked through the crack in the door to the chamber, trying to keep an eye on the kommandant and his interpreter in case he was needed. He didn’t want any reports of slackness to make their way back to the inspector.
‘Still the optimist, Jack?’ She smiled knowingly at him. At one time Beth and he had been good friends, but their lives had moved apart. Before he had a chance to reply, a group of German men walked in through the front door. They held themselves in a way that suggested they were looking down on everything, and the tailoring of their clothes was a level above anything the Islanders could afford.
‘Who are they?’ Jack asked once they had gone into the chamber.
‘Plain-clothes policemen, I believe. They’ve been coming and going from here the past few days.’
‘Gestapo?’
She thought for a moment. ‘I don’t really know. Their organisations are confusing. I’ve been doing some research, but it’s impossible to keep up with it all. I think they might be another type of secret police.’
‘What are they doing here?’ Jack tried to keep the question casual. He wanted to keep an eye on everything that was going on. For all their sakes. ‘What do they want?’
‘What do you think they want? They want the island.’ She shook her head in response to his confused look. ‘What I mean is they want control. It’s one thing having a police force like yours to command, but we know that’s how they do things. You’ve heard the rumours about what the Gestapo do. Why would they not do the same thing here?’
Jack looked over Beth’s shoulder at the men she had been talking about. They didn’t look that sinister, not compared to the Germans in uniform, but perhaps that was the point. To make you drop your guard and say something incriminating.
‘Be careful what you say around them, Beth,’ he said, nodding towards the Germans to emphasise his point as they disappeared from view into the various offices at the other end of the corridor. ‘It would be a mistake to trust them. Even a little bit.’
‘I know,’ she replied, a heartbeat later. ‘On that note, I’d better get back to work. I’ve already been gone too long, and you shouldn’t be here, Jack Godwin.’
She accented the last few words with a wagging finger like a disappointed schoolteacher and Jack felt himself blush. Then she left him, returning to whatever office it was she worked in here. Jack took another look in the direction the group of Germans had walked. If there were secret police on the island then they would have to be careful. He thought of Johanna, of the rumours from other occupied territories. She was at an even greater risk than the rest of them. He decided then that he would have to be careful that none of the German police saw them together. It was the only way he could protect her.
Later that night, sleep would not come. It had been a long day, attending to the Germans. The worst part of it was the look on the faces of his fellow Islanders as he opened the car door, as if he had been conquered along with the island. He didn’t know how he would protect Johanna, his mother, and his grandparents. He tossed and turned, running the scenarios through his head, unable to shift the faces of the German police from his troubled nightmares.
*
A few days later Jack was cycling past the airstrip on his beat when he heard the noise, a deep rumbling sound steadily varying in pitch. It reminded him of a day not so long ago, a day which now seemed like it had happened in another world, another lifetime. He looked up and immediately saw hundreds of black shapes in the sky, like spots of dark black cloud. Only, they weren’t clouds but hundreds of German bombers. Jack had seen them before, but never as many as this. It was as if the sky was full of aircraft, all heading north. He felt for the people on the mainland, for that number of munitions would cause untold damage. He wondered if there was a way to warn them, but it was already too late. Perhaps if the spies were still here, they could have done something.
A moment later further engine noise added to the sound from nearby. Jack glanced over in the direction of the airstrip to see the German Messerschmitt fighters rising up in the air one by one, off to escort the bombers to Britain. The RAF was in for a serious fight. He couldn’t imagine the Germans invading Britain, but it was clear that was their intention. If they had already taken France and the Channel Islands, then what, other than the RAF, was stopping them from taking the mainland? Soon the whole world would be living under the Nazi jackboot.
He watched the planes for a while longer, as the steady stream of bombers seemed without end, then continued on with his patrol. It was beginning to look as if they wouldn’t have been any safer in England even if Johanna had been allowed and they had decided to evacuate the island. Where were all the people who had gone to England? Were they safe?
A Messerschmitt flew low over the road, almost deafening Jack. For the Germans, the islands were only a stepping stone to further conquests.
Chapter 11
7 September 1940
‘Jack, old pal, I need your help.’
Jack recognised the voice straight away. It had been echoing around his head since the soldiers had turned themselves in to the Germans, and he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or whether it was real. Jack was hardly surprised. It was as if he had been expecting the man to appear at any moment, even if he had been telling himself that Henry had already left the island. Somehow he had known it wasn’t the end of it. Perhaps it was a foregone conclusion that the British Government would keep sending spies to the island, that they would use men who had grown up there. It was exactly what Jack would have done, had he been in their shoes, rather than tending to his grandfather’s garden again.
‘Jack? Are you listening?’
Jack smiled, relishing the familiar voice. He treated it like a welcome memory, recollecting a time before the Germans, before it spoke again, forcing him to accept reality.
‘Hullo, Henry,’ he replied, turning to take in his old friend. He stood with his shoulders hunched and his hands interlaced. Even with the smile plastered across his face there was a hesitation. Jack could sense it in Henry’s body language, as if he feared what Jack might do. It brought a pang of sadness to Jack’s heart. His friend should have known that Jack wasn’t about to turn him in; no matter what happened he would never do that to a friend. So Jack grinned back, hoping to ease the tension, passing an unspoken commitment between them. ‘It’s good to see you.’
Henry relaxed, then laughed. It was a wonderful sound, and Jack couldn’t remember the last time he had heard a laugh like it. The other man stepped closer and pulled Jack into a giant bear hug. ‘It’s so good to see you too, old friend,’ he said. ‘I told you we’d see each other again. Let’s hope next time it’s under better circumstances.’ He pulled away. ‘I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a pickle.’
Jack pulled the other man inside the house. He wondered whether his grandmother would show her face again, but the kitchen was thankfully empty.
‘What’s wrong?’ Jack asked. ‘I didn’t think you’d be back, but I should have known. Start from the beginning so we can work out what’s to be done.’
‘Right you are, old pal. They’ll make a detective of you yet.’ He leant against the back door in case someone came through it. ‘I was supposed to meet up with the Royal Navy last night. A boat was going to come into the beach and pick me up. But I waited and waited, and it never came. I must have been there an hour and a half, but I saw no sign, not a soul.
‘I didn’t make a noise, nor use my torch for fear the Germans would find me. We’d heard what happened to the last lot, so there is a chance they could have missed me. But that wasn’t part of the plan – they should have been there. It went swimmingly the first time …’
Jack wished that Henry hadn’t mentioned the soldiers. It brought a wave a feeling that he could only describe as guilt
for his part in their capture. He couldn’t bring himself to admit his shame and his friend was rambling, his nervousness shining through. Jack couldn’t imagine what it would have been like for him. Sure, the army had left the islands and abandoned the Islanders to the prospect of a German invasion, but it wasn’t the same. They hadn’t given the Islanders any hope of rescue, but Henry had been completely on his own and he had been promised he would be retrieved. Here on the island he was far from safe, and if he was found as a spy he would be shot. Those concerns would no doubt be playing through Henry’s mind, but it was clear he was trying to put a brave face on it, as a soldier should. His voice didn’t waver, only the haste of his speech gave him away.
Jack needed to do something for his friend, to focus his mind on the task at hand.
‘What happened to them, do you think? Will they attempt a pick-up again?’
‘To tell you the truth, I don’t have the foggiest. I had thought about going down to the beach again tonight, but that would only increase the chances of the Germans finding me. And what am I to do in the meantime? I can’t stay here.’
There was a hopefulness in his voice that made Jack’s heart thump in his chest.
‘No. You can’t stay,’ he replied, thinking. ‘If they find you here then it’s not only you that’ll get it, but you’ll drag my family down with you as well. It’s too much of a risk. I’m sorry.’
‘I had a feeling you might say that,’ he said, a glumness settling upon him, a further sign of the changes he had been through since their carefree childhood. He stalked over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair to sit down on. His body almost slumped onto the table, then he held himself up straight, training shining through.
Jack sighed, releasing some of the pent-up anguish he was feeling. He did want to help his friend, but the Germans had introduced identification and there was no way Henry would be able to go unnoticed. Not unless he stayed out of sight permanently, but that was impractical. It broke his heart, but he couldn’t protect everyone.
‘As much as I hate to say it, you need to turn yourself in, Henry.’ Jack had decided that only way to deal with this situation was to be direct. They were adults now, and they had to make difficult decisions. He remembered giving the same advice to the group of soldiers who had found themselves on the island, and he wished he knew more about what had happened to them to give him some confidence that Henry handing himself in was the right thing to do. He felt it was. If they took him to a prisoner of war camp they would be obliged to look after him, but if he stayed on the island then it would be dangerous for all of them. ‘There’s no way we can get you any ID before the Germans work out who you are. There’s no way to hide you. I can’t hide you here and if I do and they find you then we’ll both be up before a firing squad.’
Henry nodded, but refused to look Jack in the eye. After a moment he spoke. ‘I’m not ashamed to admit it, but I’m … well, I’m a little bit afraid of what might happen.’
‘I know. But you must have known the risk you were taking coming here?’
‘Truth is, my old mate, it didn’t occur to me for a second that the British wouldn’t come for me. It worked so well the first time. They arrived just when they said they would, and I thought, what’s the harm in going in a second time? After all. I’m doing something for the war effort. Who’d have thought they’d just leave me? I’m a fool.’
Jack felt a pang of guilt, but then the British had abandoned him too, along with all the other residents of the Channel Islands.
‘Maybe something got in the way of the retrieval? There could be a U-boat operating in the area or anything. We just don’t know.’
His grandfather had told him of the German U-boats and the havoc they had caused in the last war. It had been one of the few times he had talked about it, without running the risk of mentioning Jack’s father.
‘You should go and speak to the attorney general,’ Jack said, moving to stand across from Henry. ‘He’ll know what to do. He helped the soldiers the British sent, made sure that they were treated as a POWs and not spies. He can help you too.’
‘We sent,’ Henry murmured, through the hands that covered his face.
‘What?’ Jack asked.
‘The other men that we sent, Jack.’ Henry looked up at him, taking his hands away. His eyes were bloodshot and wide. ‘I’m worried about whose side you’re on. You refer to the British, but what are we if not British? The Germans may have taken over the islands, but they won’t have them forever, and we can’t forget who we really are. You of all people should recognise that. You weren’t born here after all.’
Jack felt his face redden, but he knew that Henry wasn’t trying to make him angry. He knew the other man too well for that. Jack was British. Whether the other Islanders identified as British or not, Jack should, and Henry was right: he needed to remember that.
‘You’re right. But what am I supposed to do?’
He stood, as if he was about to make a great speech. ‘Resist. In any way you can.’
‘If only it were that easy.’
Henry didn’t reply. He paced for a few seconds, then stopped again. His eyes fixed on Jack with a look that he had never seen before in his friend. It was somewhere between compassion and concern; the boyish charm was completely gone now. Henry stood before him, a man. ‘No one ever said this was going to be easy,’ he said. ‘Even before the Germans came, we had an idea of what it would mean for us. That’s why we joined the army.’
Jack opened his mouth to object, but Henry held up a hand.
‘You had your reasons for staying,’ Henry continued. ‘And I don’t judge you for that. Not all of us could go, and not all of us could stay.’
Jack stayed silent. He realised that Henry needed to vent and get some of his anger out.
‘You’re right. I’ll go and see the attorney general and ask him for his help before turning myself in. What other choice do I have? But before I do that I need to go and see my parents. Even if it’s for the last time.’
Jack nodded. He didn’t need to tell Henry the danger that would put his parents in.
‘Do you have their new address?’
Jack scribbled it on a piece of paper and handed it to his friend. ‘Burn that.’
‘You’ve been a good friend,’ Henry said, staring at the address. ‘I’m going to miss you. You have a way of making one feel better.’ He held out a hand for Jack to shake and then pulled him into a bear hug. ‘Don’t let the bastards grind you down. Fight them every step of the way, no matter what it is.’ He left the way he had come, leaving the back door open for Jack to close behind him. Jack stayed there for a few minutes, before he sighed and closed the door. The inside of the house was quiet, and for once he liked it like that.
*
Jack trudged across the muddy path in the rain, his boots sucking up the dirt. He had come to help at the farm on his day off. On an island where everyone knew each other, it was not unusual for people to help each other out. The farms needed all the hands they could get, particularly now that many of the workers had evacuated to the mainland. Jack had volunteered by accident, when a few careless words to Frederic had given the farmer an idea. Jack had arrived in the roughest clothes he could find, knowing just how dirty they would get. Silently, he hoped that Johanna didn’t see him like this. The smell of manure was almost unbearable.
At first he had been asked to carry things from one part of the farm to another, including rotten tomatoes that had been left to go that way as they were no longer exported to the mainland. Then he had heard the farmer calling his name from the field. His voice was raised and desperate and Jack put down the box he had been carrying and ran towards him. The older man was kneeling down in the pigsty, holding on to one of the sows.
‘Help me, will you? She’s birthing.’ Jack didn’t know what to do, but he moved closer out of the rain so that Frederic could show him. Before Jack could do any more there was another shout.
Jack
looked towards the path and saw a German sergeant jump over the fence and walk over to them. His mouth broke into a wide smile as he approached. ‘Hallo! Guten Morgen!’ he called. Jack stared back, the rain dripping down his face. What could the sergeant possibly want? When the sergeant drew nearer he gave Jack’s hand an enthusiastic shake that almost pulled him off his feet. As Jack regained his balance the German held out his hand for Frederic. The older men stared down at it, but did not move. He kept his arms pinned at his sides. Jack knew Frederic’s thoughts on the Germans, and that he wouldn’t do anything to accommodate them. Frederic had fought in the Great War, and it had affected him deeply. He only ever talked about it after a few drinks, and even then he said very little. Shaking the German’s hand was, to him, an admission of defeat, and one he was far from willing to make.
The German’s smile didn’t drop, but he did take his hand away. ‘You don’t like me, yes?’ he said. He looked the farmer up and down, clearly noticing the way Frederic held himself. He stood to attention even when he otherwise appeared to be relaxed. Frederic had scars that weren’t from farming, and the wind and rain made them stand out even more. ‘You were in the first war?’
‘Yes, I was,’ Frederic replied. It was clear to anyone who looked at him, but there was no malice in his voice. It was a simple statement, as little as he could get away with, without being openly antagonistic.
‘You would like to shoot me, then? If you had the chance?’ The rain beat down but none of them seemed to notice. There was a look of intensity in the German’s eyes, as if he was on the edge of something. How could someone appear so friendly, yet say the things he was saying? It was all an act, and the fact that he could maintain it for so long struck Jack as a kind of metaphor for the entire German personality. They all appeared to be hiding something more sinister under the surface, if only you took the time to look for it.
‘Yes, I would.’
Jack tensed, sensing the situation growing out of hand. He was shocked by Frederic’s reply, but not really surprised. Neither was the German. He simply laughed, unclasped his pistol from the holster at his waist, cocked and proffered the gun to Frederic. He held it there in his hand and they locked eyes for a long moment. ‘You would no more shoot me, than I would shoot you,’ the German said.
The German Nurse Page 11