Retaliation and Deportation

Why British citizens were ordered to German internment camps

the frontage of De Gruchys and the elegant staircase now sadly replaced by an inelegant escalator

Auntie Kay (Kathleen) was the oldest of my aunts, the bossiest and the funniest. She was also very haughty, especially after she married Arthur, the manager of De Gruchy’s department store, who was, himself, a pompous ass with colonial overtones. When I was a small child and a nuisance to my mother, (a frequent occurrence as she had three kids, five and under, of which I was the eldest and, I felt, neglected), Auntie Kay would glide up in her Humber Super Snipe and remove me from under Mum’s feet for the morning. We would go directly to De Gruchy’s, park in the space reserved for the manager in the yard at the back, (Arthur’s space but he couldn’t drive because he had sustained an injury to his hip in WW1), and walk in through the arcade.

Kay and Arthur.The wedding in 1939 looks a very stiff formal affair

The arcade was lined with cane furniture to cater for the ex-colonials who retired to Jersey from the Empire between the wars The male attendants wore brown dust coats and were deferential to customers and especially to the manager’s wife sweeping through the arcade with wicker basket over one arm, trailing me behind her with the other. They would almost bow or touch forelocks as they chorused “Morning Mrs Harvey”, and she would smile graciously from one side to the other, until we reached the archway which led into the store proper.

The arcade in the years before the cane furniture went in and the Lingerie department where Kay worked

That brought us to Auntie Roselle’s domain. She was the buyer in Haberdashery and Fancy Goods, which was the job I aspired to because she got to go on buying trips to London twice a year and wore a smart grey dress when the assistants were in black, and to my child’s mind that was the best job anyone could have. Kay and Roselle would always take me for morning coffee to Gaudins cafe, which had the best cakes in town. At home we never had ‘bought’ cakes, only home made ones, so it was a huge treat to be presented with a cream horn or a chocolate eclair, even if it did involve having to wash my hands and speak when spoken to.

At the start of the Occupation, Kay was senior sales in the Corsets and Lingerie department and refused on principle to serve German soldiers who came to buy underwear for wives, girlfriends and mothers. There was nothing left in Germany to buy, their shops were empty and very soon, Jersey’s shops would be too. Arthur preferred Kay to be at home, especially when there was very little remaining on the shelves for her to sell and she was relieved to resign and not come into contact with Germans any more on a regular basis. She was the only married sister of my four aunts at the time, which gave her a certain air of superiority over them. She and Arthur lived a glamorous lifestyle even in the Occupation, with Arthur’s business and Masonic contacts enabling the acquisition of alcohol and even food smuggled from France. They had many parties as did their friends, sometimes flouting the curfew, until in September 1942 their lives changed dramatically, when for the next two years, ten months, along with thousands of others, they would be deported and interned in Germany.

A notice was published by Oberst Knackfuss on 15 September to the effect that men living in the Channel Islands but born elsewhere and their families were to be removed to Germany immediately. This was a direct order from Hitler in retaliation for the British order in June 1941 to expel all German citizens from Persia to prevent the possibility of espionage or subversion. Hitler was irate, complaining about the invasion of a neutral country and internment of German men, (Pot, kettle, black?). He insisted that British men should be similarly interned in Germany on a ratio of 10:1 but where to find them? He was told that the Channel Islands population was already effectively interned, but the men alone could not make up the 8,000 needed to reach the 10:1 ratio, so he demanded that women and children were added to the list of islanders compiled together with their places of birth. At this stage, the island authorities didn’t know why they were being asked to draw up the lists, but they complied.

The notice which appeared in the paper and Oberst. Knackfuss who issued it

It was some months after Hitler had made his demands that the notice was issued. The order with a list of those to be deported went to the Wehrmacht in October ’41 but Hitler was more interested in turning the Channel Islands into a fortress than to issue precise instructions at that time. Britain told Hitler that any attempt to intern its citizens would be against the Hague Convention, but it made no difference. When, months later, Hitler realised his instructions had not been carried out he threw a wobbly and ordered the deportations to start immediately. Soldiers and reluctant parish officials delivered individual letters on the evening of the 15^th September and Kay and Arthur were ordered to be at the harbour the following morning.

Arthur had been born in Bradford and worked all over England before coming to Jersey. Kay was his second wife, Jersey born and told me she didn’t have to go, but as they had only been married for two years she wouldn’t dream of being separated from him. ‘I promised for better or worse,’ she said and went.

The letter the deportees received read

In pursuance of a Higher command, British subjects are to be evacuated and brought to Germany.

You have to appear, therefore on 16-9-42 not later than 4 o’clock at the Garage, Weighbridge, St Helier, with wife and minor children.

You have to take with you all papers proving your identity.

It is necessary to outfit yourself with warm clothes, strong boots, and provisions for two days, meal dishes, drinking bowl and, if possible, with a blanket.

Your luggage must not be heavier than you can carry and must bear a label with your full address.

It is further left to you to place ready, for each person, a trunk packed with clothes to be sent on afterwards, labelled with full address.

It is also left to you to take with you an amount of money not exceeding RM10 in German notes for each person in Reichcredit notes.

All valuables (jewels) must be deposited as far as possible with the banks. Keys to the houses are to be handed over to the Constables.

Should you fail to obey the order sentence by court martial shall be effected.

Der Feldkommandant:

Gez. Knackfuss, Oberst.

Kay only found out about it when she stopped off at her mother’s house on her way home from the dentist. They met her in the hall, her Mother in tears and Father waving the newspaper at her wildly. Because Arthur was from Bradford and the soldiers had been round with the letter, he had no choice. Her Mother tried to persuade her to stay and her father ranted about the useless government having cooperated when they shouldn’t have done. He arranged to store their silver and wedding presents in the safe at the office. Kay decided to wear her wedding ring, sew a few bits and pieces into her corset and take the rest to her mother. She also hid extra money in the corset. (In those days corsets were like scaffolding, all whalebone and heavy rubberised elastic. No German was ever going to wrestle her out of that).

Kay had no time to think. She wanted to stay and cry with her Mother but instead she went home, packed two small suitcases and cooked Arthur their last meal together in their own home, then went the rounds of their family and friends saying a teary goodbye. Who knew when or even if they would see everyone again. The shock of being wrenched out of your home at 12 hours notice without knowing where you were going, of what do you take and what do you leave must have been terrible. Do you pack a trunk to be sent on later as it said in the letter, in the hope that it will get to you even though you don’t know where you’re going? She did and it didn’t get to them.

Next month I’ll tell you what happened to Kay and Arthur along with all the other families in the days that followed. It’s probably not what you expect…

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I’ve read

Hidden in the Dark by HK Christie. One of a series. Val Costa is a an ex-FBI agent superwoman who has come home to Red Rose County to look after her mum who has had a stroke. She’s contracted to the Sheriff’s office to assist in a hideous murder case and works with a Deputy with whom there is a mutual spark which doesn’t ignite in this book but might in the next - Last One Alive. It’s a page turner, good holiday reading or for curling up next to a radiator on a rainy day.

Frozen People by Elly Griffiths. I didn’t know this writer but heard her talk with Peter James at the Jersey Festival of Words, and decided to buy the book. I devoured it in a couple of days. She has a series of 15 crime novels already under her belt but this is a new protagonist and a good story. Ali is on the cold case team which is taken to extremes when the scientist they work with thinks she perfected time travel. She hasn’t quite and Ali gets stuck in 1850 but with all the sensibility of a 21st century woman. It’s the first in the series and a cracking good read.

I’ve listened to

The Kingmaker’s Daughter by Philippa Gregory. A great sweeping saga about Anne and Isabel, daughters of Henry of Warwick, in very turbulent times. Anne eventually marries for love, unusual in those times, Richard of York, who becomes Richard 3rd. The book is very long and sometimes I feel, it’s overwritten, but as long as i’m listening and not reading it, I can gloss over the unnecessary details. I have already embarked on the next one. I’'ll report back …

I’ve seen in the theatre

The Producers. Garrick theatre, London. If you remember the film, be prepared for some changes. This is very slick, cast is very talented, very energetic and the script is very funny. The set was minimal compared to some of the elaborate stagings we’ve seen in the West End, but the production made best use of it. I thoroughly enjoyed it. If I had a grouse, it was that they broke the fourth wall a few times. I think it was a cheap way of getting a quick laugh and the production was good enough without. The audience was with them anyway.

I’m watching on TV

Riot Women by the fabulous Sally Wainwright. BBC1 Sundays 9pm. Group of very unlikely women form a band. They are a brilliant cast and all have intricate back stories which unfold bit by bit. It’s strong writing from the woman who gave us Happy Valley as you would expect. I refuse to binge-watch it, preferring to mull over the episode until the next Sunday night. Bits of it replay in my mind all week, surely the sign of great writing .

Blue Lights Northern Irish Police procedural. BBC1 Monday 9pm. I enthused over this show last month, but now that I’ve seen the last episode, I just had to praise it again. The cast is superb and intelligently written, unlike some cop shows where they come to work like cardboard cutouts with no home life at all. Roll on another series.