Jersey under the Jackboot : the Occupation of Jersey – July 1940 to May 1945

When William the Conqurer successfully invaded England in 1066 the Channel Islands were already part of his kingdom. From that time onwards the Islands have remained a semi-detached part of the United Kingdom.
Has the United Kingdom ever been invaded since 1066?
Well – surprisingly the answer is “Yes” - twice. On February 22nd 1797 a 1,400 strong French force landed at Lanwnda on the Pembrokeshire coast just north of Fishguard. In that year Napoleon Bonaparte was hard at work conquering central Europe. Whilst he was busy on that campaign the newly formed French Revolutionary Government (a bit like Baldrick in Black Adder) came up with a “cunning plan” to invade Wales to “liberate” the oppressed inhabitants. The French were led by the rather unlikely figure of an Irish/American Colonel by the name of William Tate. Most of his troops were drawn from what was termed a “penal battalion” which, as its name suggests, consisted of criminals who chose to become soldiers rather than rot in prison. Once on shore the troops of the penal battalion decided that the opportunity for a bit of looting was not to be missed and disappeared into the surrounding countryside on that mission. Colonel Tate had orders to march on Bristol but with most of his troops drunk after their looting he didn’t get very far. Over the next two days the, so called, Battle of Fishguard took place and the French were all captured. There is a great story involving a Fishguard cobbler’s wife, Jemima Nicholas, (Jemima the Great) who marched out to Llanwnda with a small band of matrons, armed only with pitchforks, rounded up 12 Frenchmen and locked them up in the Church of St Mary’s in Fisguard. Should you ever walk the Pembroke Coast Path you will find a clifftop monument recording this event.
For years this was, indeed, the last occasion on which the United Kingdom was invaded. However, on June 30th 1940 the Channel Islands were invaded by German forces and the islands were to remain occupied until May 9th 1945. This meant that Fishguard had to amend its claim to fame by adding Mainland before Great Britain.

Many books have been written about the Occupation of the Channel Islands but I have a particular perspective. My mother was born in Jersey of a French father and a Jersey born mother. My grandmother was the daughter of a successful businessman who had started with a grocery store in St Helier and had expanded by adding a butcher shop, a fishmonger a hardware store, a confectionary and tobacco shop.

The Orviss family lived in some style in a fine house in the middle of St Helier. My grandfather was born in Guingamp in Britany and had worked in the family tannery business before being sent to Jersey at the age of 16 to take an apprenticeship in the footwear trade. Whilst there he made a good marriage!

Shortly before the war started my grandparents and family, moved from a fine house (Grosvenor House) in St Helier to a rather ordinary four bedroom house in Fauvic on the east coast of the Island. I’m not sure why they moved but in retrospect it was a smart move for reasons you will learn. By this time my mother had married and moved to England where I was born two months before the war began.
So it was that when war was declared in September 1939 my mother, father and I were in Loughton and my mother’s family consisting of her parents, two sisters and a niece were in Jersey.
That sets the scene. I will be looking at the general picture but will be able to give you a glimpse of just what the Occupation meant to one quite ordinary Jersey family. Much of that information comes from family letters exchanged before and after the war and also the very brief messages exchanged during the Occupation by means of the Red Cross Mail Service.

Invasion.
All remained quiet in the Channel Islands during the Autumn of 1939 and into the early months of 1940 and the islanders never imagined that the war would spread to Northern France and beyond. As hoteliers in Jersey prepared for the annual invasion of Summer holidaymakers from the Mainland a German invasion was far from their thoughts.
In May, however, news came that Belgium had been overrun and within a fortnight German forces had encircled the Channel ports. In the first week of June the Germans had crossed the Seine at Quillebeuf - things were starting to look serious for the Islands. Alexander Coutanche was the Bailiff (Prime Minister?) of Jersey at the time and he approached the Lieutenant Governor (Queen’s Representative) and asked him to contact the Home Office to find out what steps were being taken to protect the Islands. He did not get a clear answer.
People think that those parts of the British Expeditionary Force which were not evacuated from the Dunkirk beaches during Operation Dynamo between May 26th and June 4th 1940 became Prisoners of War. Not so. Thousands of troops remained stranded in St Malo in Brittany. So it was that the Lieutenant Governor of Jersey received a message from the War Office in London asking him to organise a Dunkirk style rescue mission. The Bailiff contacted the Commodore of the St Helier Yacht Club, the Harbour Master and the Town Pilots and asked them do just that.
On June 17th 1940 a small armada set sail for St Malo consisting of 17 yachts and 7 small cargo ships which were normally used for shipping the famous Jersey Potatoes to the Mainland. The armada was accompanied by a small Royal Navy Torpedo Boat. On arrival at St Malo the larger ships anchored in the roads outside the port and the small yachts then operated a shore to ship ferry service. In all 21,474 troops were rescued and brought back to Jersey.
It remained unclear what the UK government intended for the Islands but it was noted, with some dismay, in Jersey that the troops rescued from St Malo were shipped straight back to England and did not stay to defend the island. Rumours began to spread of a mass evacuation of the island’s inhabitants.
Still no clear proposals came from London – the War Office thought that the Islands should be demilitarised at some stage to prevent them being bombarded. The Home Office wanted this done immediately but the War Office wanted an announcement delayed because it felt that it would be interpreted as an invitation to the Germans to walk in.
On Wednesday June 19th the Lieutenant Governor addressed a meeting of the States of Jersey and announced that London had decided that the Channel Islands should be demilitarised which meant that the Jersey Militia and the small Defence Force would be disbanded with all men between 20 and 33 being evacuated to England for military service.
Announcements were placed in the local Press giving notice that the UK Government would be providing ships to evacuate those who wished to leave. All those wishing to leave were required to register at the Town Hall. Late into the night of June 19th and throughout the following day long queues formed outside the Town Hall to register and obtain registration coupons.
In an attempt to calm matters the Bailiff issued a Proclamation confirming that he and all other Government officials would be staying at their posts. Stories started to circulate of farmers in the country turning their cattle lose and preparing to burn their crops.
On the evening of June 20th the Constable of St Helier reported that the Town Hall had received a total of 8,775 applications for evacuation. Of this number 434 were of military age. Included amongst them was my Uncle Fred Livesey who was to join the Durham Light Infantry and would be killed in action on August 2nd 1944 in Normandy – I have recently discovered that he is buried in the Banneville-la-Campagne Cemetery near Caen.
By June 21st a grand total of 23,062 had registered though, in the event, only between 10,000 and 11,000 actually left.
When the Lieutenant Governor and all Navy and Airforce personnel left for England the islanders began to panic and there was a run on the local banks which were forced to place a £25 limit on withdrawals.
You can well imagine the anguished debates that took place round supper tables in those anxious days in June 1940. In a letter dated June 16th my grandmother wrote: “Quite a number of people have gone away but the boats only take about 300 and it is a case of booking ahead. At the moment there is an air base and we are well protected but we will have to wait and see what will be done about the islands. I don’t want to leave as it seems to me that having a business (Orviss Ltd.) and everything here one ought to stay. Suppose we had to leave the house and everything behind there might not be anything to come back to…. We are better here (in Fauvic on the east coast of the island) than in town and have a good (safe) place in the kitchen, very solid…Whoever would have dreamed that things would come to such a pass, I cannot believe the wickedness and all evil things like this can possibly be allowed to go on much further.”
She notes the effect on the island’s trade with the Mainland: “The potato crop is suffering too, not enough boats to take them away and not a very great demand, I suppose the English ones are on the market now. There was a row of vans (waiting to load) from the Recreation Ground to the Weybridge yesterday and I suppose as far as Millbrook today.”
My grandmother was also worried about money and, in her letter, asks whether there is a branch of the City & Westminster Bank in Loughton as she is thinking of putting “some money over the other side in case any of us need it later.”
Two days later, on June 18th she writes: “Of course everything and everyone is very upset but we are carrying on just doing all that we are advised to do. We have put cross strips of paper on all the windows like this (she includes an illustration). It looks quite nice and makes a nice pattern. I don’t think it will prevent windows breaking but it will prevent chips. We have made the kitchen a refuge. The walls are very strong and there are deep cupboards and the coalhole as well and we have boarded the windows up and have sand and water and a sprayer and plenty of water so I think it will be quite a good shelter really.”
Then, on June 23rd, my grandmother writes again “There was quite a panic at first as no one knew if it was compulsory for people to leave or not. We certainly got ready to go and with the terrible gale that was blowing and the crush of boats we decided not to go but wait a day or two and see what happened. Now the rush is over crowds of people are wanting to come back. Of course they were taken over free but will have to pay their passage back if they can get here. All the States (government) and everyone is staying here and we have no soldiers or anything so we are an open town.”
On June 24th the Bailiff received a letter from King Gorge VI in which he explained that “for strategic reasons it has been found necessary to withdraw the Armed Forces from the Channel Islands…the link between us will remain unbroken and I know that my peoples in the Islands will look forward with some confidence as I do to the day when the resolute fortitude with which we face our present difficulties will reap the reward of victory.” Basically – “Goodbye and good luck.”
Two days later, on June 26th, my grandmother writes what turns out to be her final letter just four days before the German invasion. The family have been busy getting ready to feed themselves: “Kathleen has a lot to do now looking after the fowls and little chicks, Daddy has helped her. We were using Mr. Falle’s fowl house but now Mr. Briard wants to have some fowls so we have had to divide ours up in two as we have some chicks aged six weeks and some about twelve weeks and we cannot put them together yet.
Daddy is posting this now so goodbye, heaps of love.”
This final “goodbye” is particularly poignant as she was not to see her English family again – she died on Easter Sunday 1944 (two months before the Normandy Landings and just over a year before Jersey was liberated). A Red Cross messages dated April 17th 1944 arrived in Loughton reading: “Mother passed very peacefully away on Easter Sunday. No suffering. Everything possible done. All as well as can be expected”.
I should leave my family for the moment and introduce you to Dr. John Lewis. He first arrived in Jersey in May 1935 and entered into general medical practice with Dr. J.J. Evans. In October 1938 he married a local girl, Ann Hulton, and set off for a honeymoon in Scotland. On their way back to Jersey they spent 4 nights at the Savoy in London where, he recalls, they paid £5 per night for the Bridal Suite. Back in Jersey he set about developing his medical practice and he and Ann settled into “a routine of entertaining and being entertained. To him “Jersey was beautiful, unspoiled and cheap, and life could not have been more wonderful.”
With Churchill’s announcement on June 19th that the Channel Islands were to be designated a demilitarised zone evacuation of the Islands began. By this time Ann was pregnant and they debated whether they should leave or stay – they decided to throw in their lot with the islanders. However, life became more difficult for Dr. Lewis when he fell out with his partner, Dr. Evans, and the partnership was dissolved. He quickly found new premises in Bath Street (very cheap because the previous tenant had committed suicide there and the house was said to be haunted) and set up a new medical practice.
By now evacuation of the island was well under way and he notes that in four days 5,000 cats and dogs were destroyed at the Animal Shelter which added to the general feeling of “misery and desolation.”
Dr. Lewis recalls that one sunny day in late June he and his wife, Ann, took a picnic lunch out to Col de la Roque on the North West coast and as they lay in the sun they could hear the sound of gunfire from the French coast and could see German planes flying above. “…it seemed impossible that such a way of life could come to an abrupt stop at any moment.”
At dinner the same night Ann’s father produced a document which described a German scheme which had already been started in Poland for removing young boy babies and having them fostered with German families in the Reich. With Ann due any day the prospect of losing any son which might be born in Jersey persuaded them that they must return to England and a flight to Exeter was booked for the following day and they travelled from the airport to his parents’ home in Wales. On June 26th the situation took a dramatic turn. In the course of a long telephone conversation Dr. Lewis found out that his ex-partner had, without a word of warning, panicked and left the island leaving at least 11 expectant mothers in the practice without support. Dr. Lewis felt honour bound to return to the island leaving Ann to face motherhood on her own. He was not to see the son who was born a short while later until the day of his fifth birthday.
At about the same time my grandfather was recording that : “We could hear the guns all day long and one day we heard planes. We rushed out and hardly had we reached the end of the garden when we heard a hissing noise from one plane quite close to here and then a tremendous thump – good gracious – they are bombing us. We all bundled back indoors and crouched on the floor in the kitchen and for a time we heard no more. They had gone over the Town and we heard muffled noises…The potato season was in full swing and there were lots of lorries on the pier with their loads, people taking a stroll on the pier. All these were machine-gunned and all the lorries. Bombs were dropping on the houses there and people were taken by surprise never expecting this and many were killed. We could hear the machine-guns going as they went off back to France. The first bomb dropped on the slipway at La Roque Harbour and several people were killed on their doorsteps as they came out to see what was going on. The next day all houses were told to put out white flags as the Germans were coming to take the island.”
On Monday July 1st islanders were woken by the sound of a large plane flying low over the island. Bags of leaflets were dropped which announced that the Germans intended to “…neutralise military establishments in Jersey.” From 7 a.m. on July 2nd large white crosses were to be exhibited at 3 prominent places on the island including the Airport in St Peter’s and white flags were to be flown from all buildings. Failing these measures bombing of all military and defence establishments would take place. Representatives of the government were to be at the Airport from 7 a.m. and remain there to meet the German command. The final paragraph of the leaflet read: “In case of peaceful surrender, the lives, property and liberty of peaceful inhabitants are solemnly guaranteed.”
We will see just how far that guarantee was honoured.

That same afternoon representatives of the States of Jersey were at the island’s Airport in St Peter’s to surrender the island to Captain Gussek.

As far as the general populace was concerned the first indication of the invasion was the spectacle of troops in field grey uniforms, mounted on motor-bicycles and officers in open motor cars driving from the Airport into St Helier where, very quickly, Swastika flags started to appear on all buildings.

Living with the Enemy.
On July 2nd the first of many Orders of the German Commandant were published. These included an 11 p.m. to 5 a.m. curfew, a ban on the sale of spirits, a ban on the movement of all fishing boats, clocks to be adjusted to Central European time, all rifles, air-guns with their ammunition to be surrendered and it was forbidden to listen to wireless transmissions except for German stations. No longer could islanders listen to the chimes of Big Ben and the evening news from “London Calling”. The sale of motor-spirit was prohibited except for essential services which included doctors’ vehicles. There was, of course, an admonition that “All orders given by the Military Authority are to be strictly obeyed.”
So, the islanders knew where they stood.
On July 8th came another set of Orders from the German Administrator, Capt. Gussek. These stated that government would remain the responsibility of the States of Jersey conditional on their good behaviour and upon the prior approval by the German Authorities of all legislation. Church Services were allowed to continue, prayers for the Royal Family were permitted but church bells could only be rung for 10 minutes before a service.
Reichsmarks began to appear in Jersey and were regarded as legal tender but at very unfavourable fixed exchange rate. The German soldiers began to buy up the plentiful stocks of goods still available in the Island’s shops and ship them home. Once they had cleared the shops of luxury items they began to buy up gas-fires, electrical equipment and anything that could be packed up and sent home. By the end of this first summer of occupation the shop windows were empty and most shops were boarded up.
Early attempts by the Germans to organise dances were a failure as they did not attract enough local girls and were abandoned. Later during the occupation large numbers of French prostitutes were imported and installed in hotels and private houses.

The autumn of 1940 saw the arrival of a Military Government consisting of German Civil servants who wore military uniform. They were known as the Feldkommandantur and were essentially bureaucrats. As Capt. Gussek said to the Bailiff “Jetz geht der papierkieg los” – “Now the paper war starts”. The Bailiff was not happy when Capt. Gussek, with whom he had built a sensible working relationship, was replaced by Col. Graf von Schmettow – a First World War veteran and a noble from a land-owning family in Silesia. He was described as “haughty” in manner but very correct in his conduct. He and Bailiff Coutanche developed a somewhat formal working relationship.

As the months of occupation went by more and more troops and slave labourers arrived on the island and set about installing defences. In no time the coastline was bristling with guns and much remains to this day.

Then came an order from the Feldkommandantur that all petrol propelled vehicles should be presented for inspection and valuation with a view to purchase by the German Authorities. Those not immediately purchased were returned to their owners with orders to retain them against future need. Payment was mostly by way of a bond issued by the States which promised payment of the assessed value “six months after the conclusion of the war”. Somewhat surprisingly some of these bonds were honoured but not many.
Meetings of societies were banned and the carrying of identity cards became compulsory.
Occasional acts of sabotage took place and retribution was swift and brutal. On September 29th 1940 placards went up all over St Helier announcing that Marcel Brossier had been shot for cutting a telephone cable. The ownership of carrier pigeons was banned Louis Bernier, who ignored this order, was arrested for dispatching a carrier pigeon to England, tried and shot.
On March 31st a notice went up stating that “for supporting England in the war against Germany” (what exactly he’d done was not specified) Francois Scornet had been shot. And so it went on.
The Germans clearly meant business.
Some encouragement came from the air. The RAF in the early stages of the occupation dropped leaflets which the German soldiers were sent out to collect before the islanders did. One of these read “The Queen and I desire to convey to you our heartfelt sympathy in the trials which you are enduring. We earnestly pray for your speedy liberation, knowing it will shortly come.”
With a certain inevitability the next target was the Jewish community who were required to present themselves for registration. Every business operated by a Jew was to be designated a “Jewish Undertaking”. A later order required further declarations of business interests and directed that all sale transactions by these businesses after May 23rd 1940 were null and void. An Administrator for Jewish undertakings was appointed. In June 1942 came a special curfew for Jews to run from 8 p.m. to 6 a.m. and shortly thereafter all Jews were rounded up and deported to Germany.
An early target for any invader is the local press. The German Authorities moved quickly to take over the Jersey Evening Post and the French language Les Chroniques de Jersey. These became vehicles for propaganda and false information about the progress of the war. They also published a German language newspaper called the Insel Zeitung – largely for consumption of readers back in Germany and designed to show how good relations were with the islanders. One amusing story is worth recording. An open air concert was arranged in the Royal Square to which children were invited. The conductor broke off at one point and said “Hands up anyone who likes chocolate”. Hands shot up everywhere and the next edition of Insel Zeitung contained a photo of the Germanised islanders who had already learned the Nazi salute.
For a short period of time islanders were allowed to retain their radios but were only allowed to tune into English language broadcasts from German stations. This instruction was widely ignored but whilst radios were allowed at least islanders were able to listen to news from London. Then came the order to surrender all radios and news from London became scarce.
However, as my aunt Doris recalled there were ways around this ban: “…my wireless is beside me on a china box and the telephone has ear phones, so I just pick up the phone and listen. Dad has his in the loft.” (My grandfather’s radio in the loft was a crystal set which he built himself following instructions put on air by the BBC. After the war he gave it to me. The crystal was a lump of coal containing a crystal and, amazingly, it worked – though not very well.) The caretaker at the Wesley Chapel in town hid his radio under the organ and would go to the Chapel and listen to the 9 o’clock BBC news every evening. He got a bit of a scare when a German Soldier was given permission to play the Chapel organ every Thursday afternoon and was sitting immediately over the radio as he played. It was never discovered.
With all these clandestine radios around news of the war from London reached islanders. Those who had radios passed on the news to neighbours but they had to be careful who they told as there were islanders prepared to shop their neighbours to the German Authorities and the penalties for owning a radio were severe.
Initially food was not a problem. It was estimated that there was a four month supply of canned food and a year’s supply of sugar.
Those who had the space started to grow their own vegetables and keep livestock. My grandfather reported “fortunately we have been able to grow foodstuffs in the garden and in the field adjoining which I rented since the beginning of the Occupation and we have been able to grow potatoes, early and late, beans, cabbages, cauliflowers, spinach, onions, also tobacco. It meant work from morning ‘til night and I am thankful to Doris and Kathleen for the work that they have had to do. We divided the work, Doris looking after the home cooking etc. and Kathleen after the outside work. Rabbits we had as many as 50 or 60 at one time, two goats which produced several kids which made very good food.”
Food rationing was introduced in the Autumn of 1940. There were to be two meatless days each week and communal meals for children. Bakers had to use flour which was 50% potato mash. A joint Purchasing Commission was set up by Jersey and Guernsey which was led by Raymond Falla. The Commission opened an office in nearby Granville in France and the food situation improved to the point that the islanders were able to enjoy Christmas dinner with all the trimmings in 1940.
These days of plenty did not last and the situation became desperate following the June 1944 Normandy Landings. It was to be nearly a year before the islands were liberated and as the Allies moved deeper into France so food supplies dried up. This left the islanders competing with German occupying troops for the limited food supplies. Limpet parades on the beach became a regular feature of military life – you need to be very hungry to eat a limpet. In March 1945 the International Red Cross ship, SS. Vega arrived with badly needed supplies.

Aunt Doris, who you will remember was in charge of cooking, writes that in that final year “The rations are nil. We have eaten semolina with maggots in. Our coffee is good. It is made of acorns. I make potato flour for puddings. It is like cornflower. For sugar beet syrup I used a ton of sugar beet last year. Parsnip coffee, apple rings and we grow our own vegetables and tobacco. We have our own fowls…two goats, three kids and soon we will be getting 4 pints of milk a day.
This winter it was impossible to get anything. We never had light, have been without electricity since Christmas and no gas for 8 months. We have had to sit in the dark for the whole winter, using our precious candles only for getting our meals and urgent things. At Christmas we huddled over our fire in the washroom.
Latterly, before going to bed we have had to barricade everything and bring the fowls into the house. The pantry we emptied every night and any food of importance goes in the spare room. Bread we never leave downstairs….in spite of these precautions the Germans raided the garage twice. The first time three came and I yelled at them and they flew, dropping baby rabbits all over the place. They took three big ones, the only ones fit to eat. The second time they took one rabbit, and I made such a commotion that they ran. They had evidently intended killing the goats as the goathouse door was open and a bayonet was left behind…I keep a cow bell beside my bed, most people blow whistles.”
My Aunt also records a visit from German military searching for an escaped Russian slave labourer – one of the thousands brought to the island to work on building defences.
My grandfather, in writing about the year between the D Day Landings and the liberation of the island on May 9th 1945, recalled:
“At the beginning of that final winter we had no fuel at all and we were dreading the cold but we managed to buy a ton of wood for £27, then the gas gave out then the electric lights. The only way to cook was on coal dust, not much at that mixed with tar and faggots when we could get them. We were glad to see the warm days arriving and when the news of our release came everyone forgot their cares and privations … instead, oh what a relief it was when we saw the khaki again when we saw those fine soldiers looking marvellous fit and well instead of the Germans who took everything they could from us, our bicycles, radio sets, cameras, etc.
The day of liberation I opened my last bottle of whiskey which I had put aside for that day… So, we managed to celebrate…. We also had a couple of bottles of Brandy…but we keep that for medicinal purposes.”
From early morning on March 9th, with rumours of liberation rife, crowds began to gather near the harbour.

Fortunately, the German occupying force decided not to defend the islands and surrendered before being shipped out. Had they decided to resist the consequences for the islanders could have been disastrous.

We should catch up with Dr. Lewis.
In the early months of the Occupation petrol was available and Dr. Lewis continued to do his rounds in his Oldsmobile Drop Head Coupe. One day as he came out of his surgery he spotted two German officers eying his car and he was not surprised when the next day a requisition order arrived and that was the end of his much loved car. For a while he used his wife’s Singer but that was also requisitioned which left him buying a rather dilapidated soft-top Austin Seven which he used on his rounds until petrol was no longer available and he then had to do his rounds on a bicycle.

Deportation.
We have seen that between 10,000 and 11,000 island residents left the island for England when invasion threatened.
In the first year of occupation those Islanders who had been born in England came to dread the early morning knock on the door and the service of a notice of deportation to internment camps in Germany. My Aunt Doris wrote after the war:
“The evacuation to Germany was terrible. Internment camps were not thought of and we thought it meant concentration camps, and the terrible thought in everyone’s mind was that they might take the children from their parents. The evening Post came out at 4 o’clock, and already they had started issuing papers. This went on throughout the night. Cars stopped and we heard the tramp of feet and knocks on doors, and you wondered when your turn was coming. The first batch to go went so quickly that they just had to walk out of their house, old people, some ill, and children. The order was “Report at such and such a place taking with you a feeding bowl, spoons and knives. No jewellery, no money, hand in your keys to the Constable”. They walked to the Pier carrying their luggage through an avenue of Tommy-guns. 80 families went from this district. The next batch to go had a little longer to prepare and buses took them to the Pier at 7 p.m. After helping the neighbours the bell rang and there on the doorstep stood Avocat Briard, Senator le Huguet and a big German. “Sign please” and Pa was handed a paper. Pa had put on his identity card “British” instead of “Jersey naturalised.” We explained matters and Le Huguet said “Oh, Mr Cole I did not know that you were born in France or I would have taken you off the list. You will now have to explain this statement.” Mr. Briard told us to go to College House the following morning at 10 o’clock and appeal. The boat left at 4 p.m. Mother had been ill and was only just out of bed. The order was for Mr. Cole and family. First we piled our things in the kitchen, 4 basins,4 spoons and forks etc and the little tinned food we had in the house, and packed these in separate parcels in case we were separated. We arranged to put on as many clothes as possible and tried to think of little emergency things to take, needles, cotton, wool, etc. Mr Josse arranged to come in and clear all the animals. The jewellery we buried. We stayed up until midnight, then had a rest and were up at 5 o’clock. We packed and had everything ready, and at 9 o’clock Pa went by bus to town and I cycled as I went with him to College House…We were shown into a room and behind a table sat a nasty looking German and another a bit better looking. Pa explained that he was not born in England and argued that as he was naturalised through the Jersey Courts he was Jersey. It was touch and go. The German appealed to the other one and he let us off and smiled at me. In return he had my usual look of hate….We have laughed over the funny things many times since but it was NOT funny at the time. It took us a year to get over the shock, but since then nothing has worried me. We live from day to day.”
There remained one final shock. The Jersey Evening news published a story a few days after Liberation reporting that a small girl had run out into he road to welcome the British troops, had been hit by a lorry and was in a serious condition in hospital. This was my cousin Anne. At the age of 6 I had been rather looking forward to meeting this my only and rather intriguing cousin who I had heard of but, of course, never met. I remember wondering whether I would now ever meet her. Happily she survived and we saw a lot of each other in later years though the accident left her profoundly deaf for the rest of her life.
Dr. Lewis.
I’ll let Dr. Lewis have the final word. When telephone communications with the Mainland were restored Dr. Lewis, early one morning, rang the house of family friends in Harpenden where he had been told his wife and son (who had never seen) were staying. The phone was answered by Rosa, an old family retainer, who informed him that none of the family was yet down. In the background he heard a child’s voice saying “Who is it, Rosa?”. To which Rosa replied “You’d better come and speak”. “Hello” said this young voice. Dr. Lewis, rather lost for words, said “You don’t know who this is, do you?” The reply was, “Oh yes I do, it’s my daddy. I must go and tell Mummy”. “That brief interchange” – wrote Dr. Lewis – “brought home to me as nothing else had done that the family was united once more and that the Occupation was really and truly over.”