As was often the case in the evening shift, partly thanks to the curfew, there was nothing to do in the station apart from talk. Jack had taken to reading, but David seemed determined to stop him at any opportunity. His friend didn’t appreciate the moments of quiet reflection as Jack did. He had just fallen into a rare moment of silence when there was banging from outside the station.
‘What the hell?’ David asked.
He, Jack, and William were up in a heartbeat, rushing to the door. As soon as Jack’s eyes adjusted to the dark he spotted a German soldier riding a bicycle down La Marchant Street. Only, he recognised the bicycle as belonging to the sergeant.
‘Hey!’ William called, realising that the German had taken off on his bicycle. ‘That’s mine!’
The three of them ran after the cyclist. It didn’t take them long to catch him up as only gravity had taken him down to the bottom of the street and eventually toppled him over and out of his seat. Rolling on the ground, the soldier brought up his pistol. Without thinking, Jack clasped the soldier’s wrist and yanked the gun to the side, away from the policemen, then planted his knee on the man’s chest. ‘Nichts!’ the German slurred. ‘Nichts!’
Jack could see from close up that the man’s eyes were bloodshot, and his breath stank of alcohol. He shook the pistol from the soldier’s hand and David caught it. The German grunted as Jack pulled him to his feet. Despite being a lithe man, he weighed more than Jack had expected. They hauled him and the bicycle back to the police station to report the theft to the German authorities. It would be up to them to punish the man, but if the last few months were anything to go by, then the police would hear no more of it after tonight.
*
The next day, on their beat, David came to a stop at the corner of the High Street, looking up and down its length. There were a few people wandering from one shop to another, even a queue around the corner of Smith Street. People had become unwilling to leave their homes, but they still needed food. The queues had become common on the island. Surprisingly there were fewer German soldiers than normal. When they had arrived they had taken to the shops, impressed by the wares that were apparently unavailable back in the Reich, but it seemed that now as things were running out they were less interested. Either that, or their orders to patrol had been more readily enforced.
Some of the shops now had boards on their windows, not to protect them from any further bombing, but to signal to the public that they no longer had anything to sell.
‘Wait here a minute,’ David said, coming back to where he stood, then taking a detour towards the pub on the other side of the road. Jack suspected where he was going and would rather not have to deal with the consequences.
‘Oh, really?’ he asked, already exasperated. ‘Now?’
They often had occasion to break the chief’s code of conduct, but Jack didn’t have to like it. He wasn’t “chapel” like some of the others who completely abhorred alcohol, but he didn’t want to do anything that may get back to the chief and jeopardise his career. Thankfully, David stopped in his tracks. ‘It’s all right. Carry on the beat if you want to. I’m just going in for a chat. Nothing to worry about. I’ll be as sober as a priest when I come back, scout’s honour.’
David smiled at his own words, enjoying the irony that scouts were now forbidden on the island. Jack didn’t return the smile. He knew David liked a drink, but they were strictly forbidden from drinking on duty. He couldn’t believe his friend would be stupid enough to break one of the chief’s rules.
‘I’ll see you back at the station,’ he said, turning to leave. It was David’s career he was ruining and Jack wouldn’t let him drag him down as well.
The Boys
The boys were playing around the corners of the buildings, rushing up and down the winding alleys of St Peter Port, away from the High Street and the prying eyes of adults. All except Henrik’s, as he sat on a set of stone steps writing in his small notebook. He had been trying to get to know the Islanders better since he had been posted to the island, finding time off duty to sit and watch, to see how they interacted with one another. Beth had helped him to understand their way of life, but he wanted to know more and to see it for himself. He had become adept at watching without being seen, but Gerhart had laughed at him.
‘Why concern yourself with them?’ he had asked, but he simply did not understand. Like many of the others, Gerhart had thought they were being posted to England. Henrik had known better.
The boys were chasing each other, unsure what they were really doing but playing all the same. Henrik knew there was little else for the boys to do on the island other than to run and to enjoy the feeling of running. One of the boys came back again, sweeping around a corner, laughing in sheer joy and then stopped dead. The shadow of a man loomed over him, one of the Wehrmacht officers.
The boy, who Henrik had heard the others call Francis, looked up to see a shortish man, with broad shoulders and wearing the grey of the Wehrmacht. The German grinned at him. It was wolf-life, off-putting, and the boy turned to go as his friends ran around the corner, stopping their laughter as they caught up with him and saw that something was wrong.
‘Wha—?’ one of them asked, but was interrupted by the harsh bark of the German.
‘Kommen Sie her!’ he shouted at them, beckoning with the slab of a hand. Still he smiled that smile. The boys didn’t understand the language, but as he barked the words again, ‘Kommen Sie her!’ they got the gist of what he was trying to say. They shuffled closer to the German soldier as he beamed down at them.
‘Good good,’ the German said, switching to English with a heavy accent. ‘You are English schoolboys, yes?’ He nodded at them, apparently trying to be friendly. The boys didn’t bother to correct him about their nationality. It was clear from their nervous shuffling that Francis and the other boys simply wanted to be as far away from there as possible. An afternoon of fun had quickly turned into something altogether more worrying. Henrik wondered whether he should intervene, but something stalled him. The other officer would not take kindly to being watched, and Henrik could do without another enemy on the island.
‘Yes, sir,’ they murmured in unison, clearly unsure of what else to say. The German nodded and reached into the inside pocket of his tunic. He produced a long metal cylinder, something like a cigar case and the boys flinched.
‘Gut!’ the soldier said, unscrewing the cap. ‘Hold out your hands.’
He held out the palm of his hand, demonstrating what he wanted the boys to do. At first they hesitated, but as he gestured again, the boys put their hands out as he had shown them, small palms up, grubby with the dirt of playing. With a tap of his index finger on the tube he deposited a small circular disc on each of their hands. It was a kind of gummy sweet much like the gummibärchen Haribo produced back in Germany. None of the boys moved, staring blankly at their hands and the curious gestures of the German soldier.
‘Eat!’ he insisted, moving his own hand to his mouth as if they were stupid. No doubt the boys had been told by their parents never to accept anything from foreigners on the island, especially not from Germans. They were unsure what to do; if they refused then what would the German do? Would he get angry with them? One by one the boys placed the gummies in their mouths, careful not to chew and break the surface of the sweet.
‘Ist es gut?’ the German soldier asked, smiling at them again. The boys nodded, still desperate to get away. The soldier patted one of them on the head with a leather-gloved hand. ‘Go!’ he said, not unkindly.
Without hesitation the boys turned and ran back around the corner from where they had come, trying to put as much distance between them and the German as possible. As soon as they thought they were out of sight, they each spat out the sweet. Henrik could see their relief from where he sat, because in their imaginations there could have been anything in that gummy. They would rather get in trouble than be poisoned. The boys chatted amongst themselves while Henrik still watched on. They decided then
to go home, no doubt planning to be more careful in future.
Henrik knew that they had a long way to go if they were going to convince the Islanders that they were working in their best interests, even if women like Beth were willing to put aside their differences.
Chapter 16
3 February 1941
Jack let the day’s issue of the Guernsey Post drop to the table in front of him and put his head in his hands. The story of the Frenchmen arriving on the islands had been going around Guernsey for weeks now. Even those who hadn’t been there on the day were talking about it, adding their own rumours. The column about them was hidden amongst the other news in a small-print section of the newspaper, presumably to try to keep it as quiet as possible. But Jack had been looking for news about them ever since he had first seen them. Now the news had come he wished it had never arrived. The trial would take place today and the Frenchmen would be tried for their crimes against the German Reich. From the wording alone it was pretty clear what the Germans intended to do with the men, but Jack tried to hold on to a small sliver of hope that the island’s lawyers may be able to do something for them. All they had wanted to do was get away from the occupation and they had ended up here by accident.
Jack pushed the newspaper aside and tried to eat his breakfast, but he wasn’t hungry anymore. The rich Guernsey milk made him feel sick. He would be hungry later, but he had too much playing on his mind to eat. He managed to force some bread down while mulling over his thoughts, trying to ignore the bland flavour. He heard his mother offer to cook him some bacon, but he just grunted a negative and she continued preparing her own breakfast. Within seconds the smell filled his nostrils and he regretted his decision. Their rationed portion of bacon wouldn’t go far, so he would save his share for another day.
He couldn’t stop staring at the Guernsey Daily Post, the various news items wrestling for space in his mind. The one thing that kept coming to the forefront was the trial.
As a witness he would be ordered to attend, should they need him to speak. It was far from the first time he had attended a trial, but for many reasons this one felt different. However, when he had asked he had been told that the Germans were handling things themselves and that his services would not be required. The Frenchmen had been moved to Jersey for a military trial and no witnesses would be required. Jack couldn’t help but feel a sense of incompleteness about the whole thing. He didn’t know the men, indeed he had only even seen them for a few minutes, but he felt something for them.
They weren’t criminals. As far as he was concerned, the only thing they had done wrong was to mess up their navigation and end up in Guernsey rather than England. He couldn’t imagine the horror they must have felt as their freedom slipped through their fingers when they saw the German soldiers.
In a way Jack was glad that he had not been asked to attend the trial. There was nothing he could do for the men and witnessing their demise would only hurt him further. He felt a pang of guilt, but people were dying all over Europe and he didn’t know any of them. He had to focus on those he could protect. He had to force his emotions to comply, steel his heart.
He tried another bite of bread, but it was dry in his mouth. Food had lost all flavour since the Germans had arrived in Guernsey.
*
Jack had spent the day filing records at the police station. When he had arrived there had been a small queue of civilians leading up to the front door. They had been told to hand in any weapons they may have at home, including the souvenirs they were allowed to keep when the Germans had first made the order about weapons. They had handed over all sorts of things, from some kind of musket, a barrelled rifle which was missing its trigger to various long knives that were no use in the kitchen. There was a collection of swords and daggers, even Zulu assegais and a bow and arrow. Jack wondered where they had got them all from, but the backgrounds of the Islanders were diverse and obscure, much like his own. Now the station had its own little armoury, but it would be no good against the Germans.
Afterwards, he was ready to spend some time with Johanna away from the troubles of his work. He tapped on the front door and waited for a minute, but there was no reply. He knocked again, louder this time, in case Johanna hadn’t heard him. Jack spent a few minutes shuffling from foot to foot and wondering where she had got to, then let himself into the apartment, using the key she had given him. Johanna’s apartment was tidier than when he had last seen it, but there was still the lived-in look that allayed his fears that she had packed up and moved away. He thought about looking under her bed for whatever she had been hiding, but he couldn’t betray her trust like that. Whatever it was she would tell him when she was ready. Instead he looked for some sign of where she might be, or something to occupy himself while he waited for her to return. The curfew was fast approaching, and she wouldn’t be far away by now.
He hadn’t really spent much time in the apartment, and he noticed for the first time that from the window one could see almost all the way down the road outside. It was quite a view, with the sea just about visible in the distance. In the twilight gloom he could just about make out a shape heading down the road in the direction of the apartment. It was Johanna, the curl of her hair and pattern of her stride unmistakable. He smiled to himself at the image of her and relaxed. She was walking at quite a pace, somewhere between a purposeful stride and a jog, and she would be at the flat in a matter of seconds. Crossing the road, she disappeared as she walked under the sill of the window, then shortly afterwards Jack heard the sound of footsteps on the staircase. He opened the door wide so that she could see him, but still she jumped when he held his arms out for her.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, the smile slipping from his face. She eased past into the flat. Jack turned to her, but a moment later there were more footsteps on the staircase. These were heavier and somehow disjointed as if one leg was longer than the other. Jack wondered who it could be as he stepped towards the sound.
A German stood in the doorway, staring directly at Jack, the smell of schnapps coming off him in waves. It was one of the soldiers who had arrested the Frenchmen, Jack was sure. Neither man moved, squaring off like two dogs over a bone. Jack knew that he was the David to the German’s Goliath, as the drunk was a much bigger man and could beat him if it came to a fight, but he wouldn’t leave Johanna. The soldier’s eyes were bloodshot. The drunk was about to do something, Jack didn’t know what, but he would stand his ground. He didn’t dare break his gaze, but holding that stare was growing increasingly difficult. Jack wished that he had worn his uniform – the navy blue had proved an effective deterrent before. He thought about asking the man what he wanted, but there was no guarantee he spoke even a word of English, and Jack wasn’t sure he would like the answer even if he could.
The German took a step forward, almost crossing the threshold, but Jack used the opportunity to stand up taller. ‘Nein!’ the soldier said, then shook his head. His foot stretched back and Jack thought that he was going to fall, but instead he turned on the spot and guided himself down the stairs. Jack could hear him muttering the word ‘nein’ to himself the whole way, and then he was gone.
Johanna rushed to the door and locked it, then leant with her aback against the wood. She sighed and her shoulders relaxed. ‘Thank God you were here. I don’t know how long he was following me, but I could sense him there, getting closer.’ She shuddered. ‘I thought … I thought he …’
‘Are you all right?’ He didn’t move closer to her. He didn’t want to crowd her. She was right – it was a good job he had been there. It wasn’t clear what the soldier intended, but Jack was sure it wouldn’t have ended well.
‘I’m all right, really. I’m fine. It’s not the first time something like this has happened,’ she said, shuddering again. ‘Last week I was working, minding my own business, when a brute of a German put his arms around me from behind. I almost punched him on the nose, had to struggle out of his grip. By then he had got the idea.’
&
nbsp; ‘You should report the man to somebody.’ Jack could feel his anger rising. ‘He shouldn’t get away with it, especially at work. The hospital should do something about it.’
Jack didn’t know who could do anything about it, without knowing who the German was. Putting it in the occurrences book would only draw official attention to Johanna’s name, but he would mention it to the other policemen. They would keep an eye out for him when they responded to other situations like this. There had been cases of serious assault by German soldiers on the island, but the police were never told whether the German Military Authority had done anything about it. If it happened again, they would just have to deal with it themselves.
‘What good would reporting him do? They would never believe me over a German soldier. It’s best just to avoid them. The hospital are doing everything they can, but they’re so busy.’
‘This is why I always worry about you being on your own. We all need to stay away from the Germans as much as possible. As soon as we start to think like them, then it’s all over.’
She took his head in her hands. ‘I pray that you never think like them, Jack,’ she said, a frown crossing her brow. ‘They are evil. The things they do to us. We are beneath them, like animals.’
‘They’re not all evil. Some of them are in as difficult a position as us.’
‘What does it matter? The rest of them stand around and do nothing. They behave like beasts, treat us like animals. None of them did anything in the beginning and that was how the Party gained power. They didn’t oppose them, and those of us who did were too few. By then there was nothing we could do.’
He pulled her closer into an embrace, noticing the way she shook as the anger flowed through her. ‘You can’t be here on your own,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you come and live with me?’
The German Nurse Page 15