The German Nurse

by M. J. Hollows

  Later on, during his beat through the harbour, Jack spotted a small vessel making its way under power from one of the piers. It was the wrong time of day for a fishing boat, and it didn’t fit the shape. He couldn’t see from where he walked, but as he looked out over the White Rock he wondered whether the three Jewish women who were being deported were on board. If they were, then it was only a short journey to France, then on to wherever they were being taken.

  He wondered whether they would end up in the camps that Johanna had spoken of. There could only be one reason to take people away from their homes and that was to imprison them. If it had been within his power he would have stopped it from happening. Maybe after the war they would be allowed their freedom again, but somehow Jack doubted that. It didn’t seem like the war was going to end. They still saw the aircraft flying over every day, on their way to drop death on their enemies. How many more would be punished before those bombs stopped falling?

  The Islanders just had to hope. Hope and wait.

  Chapter 29

  3 May 1942

  Stones clacked their way down the hill as Jack scrambled along the dirt path, trying to keep his footing. The shingle slid every time he adjusted his weight and it was no wonder that very few people came down here. He couldn’t remember if he had ever been here before, but he wouldn’t be trying again. He had responded to reports of a boat launching from the area. At first he hadn’t wanted to go, but he had relented when he had been warned of the potentially dangerous tides in the area. Anyone who knew what they were doing with a boat would not have risked launching. The best they could hope for was washing up on a sandbank.

  Sure enough, when Jack had climbed down close enough to see, there was a boat listing in the water. The waves smashed against the hull and spray covered the men on board. They were all young men, around Jack’s age or younger. The shallow wooden hull would never make the journey to the mainland, and he had no idea what they were thinking.

  From there he could just about make out their shouts of alarm. The three men were speaking in the language of the island. Although Jack hadn’t heard Guernesiais in some time, he recognised it instantly. The local language wasn’t spoken by everyone, but most knew enough to understand the basics. Jack was perhaps more familiar with it than some. His grandfather had taught him, when he had been well, and right now the French-like parlance was clear as day. From what Jack could hear, the men didn’t want anyone to overhear them and even if some Germans stumbled across them, they wouldn’t understand what was being said. It didn’t matter whether the Germans heard them or not, what they were doing was stupid. If the Germans saw them then they wouldn’t ask questions, they would shoot.

  Part of him wanted to leave them alone to give them a chance to escape, but another part knew that he had to stop them.

  Jack’s foot slipped and a pebble came away, cracking as it bounced down the hill, hitting other stones in its irregular path. The slip caused him to stand fully, using his legs to regain balance. One of the men looked over from the boat and made eye contact with him. The scene seemed to freeze for a long moment as the other men stopped what they were doing and spotted his uniform.

  Before Jack could shout, a wave dipped the boat forward, then flung the stern up in the air. The men disappeared from view, but he thought he saw a shape slip overboard. The boat rocked as the wind caught it. It wasn’t designed for this kind of weather, and it was stupid to think that it would be safe. The rising tide was causing problems itself. The boat dipped below a wave and then swung heavily to one side. Some of the contents spilled over the side splashing into the dark water. The men onboard struggled to control it, shouting through the wind. Their words were lost, drowned out by the gale. The boat moved again, edging ever closer to the beach.

  ‘Oh, God! Nick!’ he heard one of the men shout as he leant over the rail, scanning the water for someone. The man looked over at Jack who had just made it to the beach. ‘For God’s sake, man,’ he shouted. ‘Do something. Help!’

  Jack took a step closer to the water, but a wave splashed up over the sand coating him. He took another step, but it was no good. If he got any closer then he too would be dragged out to sea. The waves were too strong, the currents shifting and rippling, spreading out into the bay, then crashing back again. He looked around, searching for something, anything that he could use to help, but the small beach was deserted.

  The boat crashed back up onto the beach as a wave took hold of it, depositing it on the sand like an unwanted toy. It stuck, tilting to one side. Jack moved around to get a better look, wary that at any minute it could fall. The hull was empty except for a few puddles of water that pooled between wooden joists.

  One of the men had jumped overboard then slipped as a wave brought the heavy wooden boat into him, knocking him over. He cursed as he went knee-deep in the water and scrabbled to right himself. His shipmate had landed spread-eagled on the sand, apparently thrown free from the boat as it landed. He leant up on his elbows as Jack ran over to him. He coughed water over the beach, groaning to himself. Jack reached down to check the man was all right, but he pushed him away with an arm and coughed up more water, bile mingling with the liquid on the sand. The other man was trying to work his way out into the water, but was being forced back by the waves. He fell to his knees.

  ‘Oh, Nick,’ he said, shaking where he knelt. ‘Nick, Nick.’

  It became a kind of mantra, a memorial for his lost friend. Jack felt sick. Why hadn’t he been able to help? He had frozen, been trapped by fear. He would always blame himself for the man’s death, as no doubt the two survivors would too. Something occurred to Jack. ‘Nicholas Le Roux?’ he asked, already dreading the answer.

  The man nodded as he shook his head in shame, pounding his fists against the sand. Jack felt the shock overcome him. He too dropped to his knees, remembering the young lad who had been his neighbour and friend. What had caused him to attempt a dangerous escape in the middle of a tide like this? Why hadn’t Jack been able to save him? It was another needless death in the name of the Third Reich. Jack helped the other man up, his body heavy with shock, and escorted them inland. He wouldn’t take them to the police station; it would be their responsibility to turn themselves in and report Nicholas’s death. He wasn’t doing the Germans’ dirty work for them anymore.

  *

  ‘Mum?’ Jack called over his shoulder from just inside the front door. He wasn’t sure whether she would respond. He turned and headed back into the house proper. ‘There’s a card here for you.’

  As he looked at the postcard, he was unable to keep the surprise from his voice, and when he walked into the kitchen his mother gave him a confused look. He handed the card to her; it had been addressed to her. It wasn’t his place to be nosy about his mother’s post, even if it was unusual for her to receive anything. He couldn’t remember the last time any of them had received any letters. Not since the Germans had come and they had been cut off from the mainland.

  ‘What’s this?’ his mother asked, looking at the card. Jack waited for her to answer her own question. He was still reeling from Nicholas’s death, but he wanted to try to forget it, at least for now.

  While she read, he made himself a small cup of tea and took a sip. He almost spat it out. The flavour was awful. He didn’t think he would ever get used to carrot tea, but regular tea was long gone from the island. It almost stung his gums. How did his mother drink the stuff? While he poured it away he wondered if he would be able to get a proper cup of coffee at work later, maybe from the Germans, but then realised that would no doubt be the fake, ersatz coffee as well.

  His mother sat as she was reading. ‘It’s from the Red Cross Bureau in Market Square,’ she said, a moment later. Jack turned to her.

  ‘What do they want?’ he asked. The Red Cross had been instrumental in bridging contact between those who had evacuated and those still on the island, managing to bring letters through neutral Switzerland. A number of parents had received a coded l
etter from their children in England. The letters were still censored by the German authorities, but it was better than nothing.

  His mother clamped her palm to her mouth and then spoke through her fingers. ‘It’s from your grandparents,’ she said.

  ‘What …? I don’t understand …’ He too sat at the table.

  ‘Your father’s parents,’ she said, handing him the card. ‘Here, look.’

  His eyes scanned straight to the signature at the bottom of the letter, showing two names he didn’t recognise.

  ‘It’s the first time they have ever written to me. The first time they have spoken to me since your father died.’ She stifled a small sob at those words. ‘I didn’t think they even acknowledged my existence.

  ‘They even asked after me and you. Do you think I should write back?’

  ‘Yes!’ Jack responded immediately, then attempted to hide his haste. ‘Yes, I think you should. It would be good for you, for both of us, for you to write to them.’

  ‘You’re right.’ She smiled at him, and it was one of the most pleasing things he had seen in a while. His mother didn’t smile much, but when she did she meant it. ‘I’ll have to think what to say.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something. Tell them about how beautiful the island is.’

  Jack stared at the postcard. He had no doubt that it would become one of his prized possessions. If his mother would allow it, he was going to keep that letter on him at all times. Jack had never imagined getting to know his father’s side of the family in England. But perhaps one day he and Johanna could go and see them; perhaps there was a little bit of hope in the world after all.

  Chapter 30

  1 June 1942

  Jack hadn’t wanted to attend the hearing, but Johanna had insisted. ‘It would show your support for David,’ she had said. ‘You don’t know how much he needs a friendly face right now.’ So, as always, he had relented. Jack didn’t know if his was the friendly face David wanted to see, but he would at least try.

  He wasn’t the only one who had come to see the trial – there was a group of friends and family as well as some well-wishers and those who just wanted to see the police get what they deserved. They had even formed a sort of queue outside the Police Court awaiting the accused. Eventually two coaches arrived, and the men were led out, all eighteen of them, almost half the strength of the police force on the island.

  As they were led off the coaches, some of the bruises were still visible, but they looked in a far better shape than they had done when they had been interrogated. They all wore civilian clothes that had been taken to their cells in Fort George. A few people in the crowd gave the police thumbs up, or the ‘V’ symbol as the policeman sloped past. Someone even shouted, ‘Keep your chins up.’

  David came towards the back of the group, his gaze focused on the floor until he looked up and made eye contact with Jack. In a moment of defiance Jack put up his index and second fingers in a ‘V’, which brought forth a smirk from David, who nodded his head. Jack expected his friend was remembering the night they had vandalised the road together. Once the police had taken their place in the court, the public gallery filled up with the friends and family. There were even members of the local press there.

  The accused sat on wooden chairs facing the Royal Coat of Arms, which now had a massive swastika draped over it. Along a bench underneath the Nazi symbol were the gathered Germans who were going to decide the fate of the policemen, and the bailiff of the court. At their head was the kommandant. Jack thought it was odd that the man who was about to be in charge of the police was also the one to pass judgement. How could he be impartial? The defence for the men was the attorney general, but Jack had heard rumours in the station office that he had decided there was no point trying to defend them.

  A clerk read out the charges, and it was an impressive list. The main offence was larceny, with some being accused of thefts from German military foodstuffs, and even wood from a military timber yard. The initial stages of the trial took a long time, and Jack struggled to pay attention as the policemen were questioned about their backgrounds, families, military and police service records and their ownership of property.

  As the prepared pleas and statements for each man were read out for the court, each policeman’s eyes widened as they listened. The statements had been translated from German and it was becoming clear that the men had no idea what they had admitted to. There were cries of shock from the gallery, those family members who knew better shouting that they were lies, but immediately the kommandant ordered silence.

  The attorney general stood to give his case for the defence. ‘Had I been the prosecutor of this case, I might have asked for sentences perhaps not differing from those suggested by the German prosecutor. The Guernsey police have betrayed the trust reposed in them as guardians of the public.’ There was a stunned silence around the room.

  ‘However, I must insist that, based on the statements of all the charged, that PC Baker be acquitted as not being present for any of the aforementioned crimes.’ He continued to give the reasons why Baker should be excluded from the charges. Jack looked over at his family and saw their anticipation there. While the others were damned, he was being offered hope. The attorney general had sacrificed the defence of the group for the one who he thought most capable of getting off. Jack almost sympathised, but then his eyes played across David’s wife and children. She held a struggling toddler in her arms as she closed her eyes to listen to her husband’s demise. Jack should have done something to stop his friend committing the crimes of which he was now clearly guilty.

  The kommandant nodded along with every word. It was as if he had prepared the statement himself. After many hours of statements and charges, he called for an end to proceedings for the day. It was clear that it was going to take longer than one sitting. Jack stood up as soon as they were dismissed, wanting to avoid the families of his colleagues who would no doubt see him as complicit in their punishment.

  *

  The trial continued for three days, but Jack was unable to attend due to his duties. It was probably for the best as the guilt of letting David down was weighing heavily on him. He had been made an acting sergeant by the acting inspector as one of the only experienced men left. At one point in his life the new stripes that he had been allowed to apply to the left arm of his uniform would have given him an immense sense of pride, but now they only felt hollow. There was a strand of guilt threaded through them.

  Yet again the Germans were determined to stamp their order on the islands, and Jack had just finished processing paperwork about them taking away the wireless sets again. They had written in the newspapers that it wasn’t a punishment, but he knew better. He had always wondered how long it would take them to remove the Islanders’ link with the BBC, especially after what had happened with the ‘V’ for victory symbols. No doubt they would now expect the local police to enforce the rule.

  On the last day of the trial Jack appealed to the acting inspector to allow him time to attend and support the men. He wasn’t best pleased, but allowed him all the same. Jack arrived at the court just in time to hear some of the pleas from the accused.

  He recognised Sergeant Honfleur’s voice right away. ‘We were taking from those who didn’t need it and giving to those who did.’ There was a silence before he continued. Jack sat down on the bench and turned to listen. ‘The Germans have everything they could ever want and we are all starving without basic needs.’

  One of the members of the tribunal looked at the sergeant over the top of his glasses. ‘That as may be,’ he said. ‘However, I very much doubt that you were operating on purely altruistic motivations. In fact there is very little evidence of you providing any of the items which you stole to those who …’ he paused to emphasise his words ‘… those who you claim need it. On the contrary all the evidence points to you keeping it all for yourselves. You even stole from your fellow Islanders. Those Islanders who you were sworn to protect.’


  Honfleur sat down, deflated. Apparently he had pinned all his hopes on that defence, but the tribunal were having none of it. Stealing from the Germans had been stupid, but stealing from the local stores was unforgivable.

  David was invited to stand next, but unlike the sergeant he refused to meet the eyes of the tribunal. He stared at the floor as he spoke. His voice was broken and small. ‘I know nothing about it though I have made a confession. I cannot tell the court anything.’

  What he said would not help him. The bailiff of the court agreed when he tutted and said, ‘I have never heard such an unsatisfactory case before the court. Not even the first inclination to speak the truth or anything to do with it. You may be seated.’

  David stood where he was. ‘I would like to make a statement now, sir,’ he said. David would only damn himself by saying anything more.

  ‘No, certainly not.’

  David stared for a moment longer, before collapsing back into the chair. The bailiff turned to the rest of the tribunal and they nodded at his words. He then announced to the court that they would take a recess while they deliberated on the sentences. A couple of the accused policemen looked on the verge of saying something, but the tribunal left through a side door. Jack jumped up and headed downstairs from the gallery, not wanting to be alone with the families.

  Downstairs he bumped into Acting Constable Robins. The man had been one of the special constables before being promoted to take the place of the arrested men. He wandered over to Jack when he saw him. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here, sir.’

  ‘Nor you,’ Jack replied, then spotted the men he had been accompanying. ‘They’re the men from the boat. The ones who tried to escape.’