The Separation (30 page)

I can’t help feeling we are being told only part of the story.

My new job is with the British Red Cross, in a building in the centre of Manchester. My first task there is to compile an inventory of the surgical materials, dressings and medicines they hold in stock. This is part of a national effort by the Society, so that should bombing of the cities begin, or if there is an invasion, the Red Cross will at least know what stocks they hold.

B says that she has had one answer to the postcard she placed in the Post Office window in Macclesfield: a child of eight needs violin lessons once a week. I am relieved that B will at last be doing something she loves and is good at, and that takes her out of the house for a few hours. So far, we can be thankful that few civilians have been affected by bombing. There are rumours that bombs have been dropped on the Orkney Islands, but it is impossible to find out about casualties. Because of the Royal Navy base up there, secrecy obscures everything. Another envelope with a white feather has been shoved through our door, this time while we were asleep last night. I managed to conceal it from B and later put the feather in the chicken run, where I hope she will not notice it.

May 4, 1940

This being a Saturday I had to go to work in the morning but I was home again after lunch. B and I attempted more work on the vegetable plot. This time we made progress because during the week B

arranged for a local farmer to deliver some dung. We scooped it on to the patch and dug it in. Late in the afternoon a number of twin-engined aircraft flew low over the hills, their engines making a loud, throbbing noise. We assumed they were British by the slow and unaggressive way in which they were being flown, but neither of us could identify them for sure. B is terrified by the thought of German aircraft coming anywhere near her. I still cannot even begin to imagine what she suffered while she was in Berlin. I know that she is in constant dread of finding out what happened to her parents. I can give her no hope beyond the blandest kind of reassurance.

I am becoming obsessed with the belief that the war must be ended as soon as possible. Europe, which has been driven mad by Hitler’s ambitions, must come to its senses. I feel a steady fury about the ineffectual way I am living my life. Still I count the rolls of bandages and lint dressings. My mind says that Europe needs soothing ointments to heal its wounds, but increasingly my heart seeks a terrible revenge against the men who are conducting the war.

Pacifists, Canon Dick Sheppard once said to me, are more interested in war, and better informed about it, than the most bloodthirsty of warriors. The reason is because we think of it endlessly and because the warmongers think of it not at all.

The Red Cross has enough plasters and bandages to wrap around the entire population of Manchester, should the need arise. I know, because I feel as if I have personally counted most of them.
May 6, 1940

Everyone in the Red Cross office seemed tense today, presumably sensing that the war is about to take a turn for the worse. There is talk of a detachment of Red Cross volunteers being sent to France. I cannot decide if I should like to be one of them. I do not want to leave B alone, but the restlessness and raging that goes on inside me is not being quelled by the clerkly preparations we are making in Manchester. My immediate supervisor, Mrs Alicia Woodhurst, seems pleased with me and said today that she will find me more interesting work in future. I shrugged, pretending not to care. Austerely, I tell myself that to work with the plasters and bottles of antiseptic is pacifist enough. If I am bored by the task, then that is the price to pay for my beliefs.

But in truth I am desperate to be doing something more active. Today, briefly, I found myself envying Jack. He at least has a clear role in the war. I stand to one side.

I was moved to Mrs Woodhurst’s office today, now that the inventory is complete. She set me to catching up with her filing. I worked slowly through it, reading as much of it as I dared, trying to find my way around in what I realize is a vast international organization.

Later, Mrs Woodhurst asked me if I would stay late at the office. She had to go out while I was to stand by in case anyone telephoned us. The evening wore on, making me hungry, tired and increasingly anxious to go home. The telephone did not ring once. Mrs Woodhurst finally returned after eight o’clock and I set off to London Road Station, stopping on the way to buy some fish and chips, which I ate from the paper as I walked along. It was almost dark by the time I reached Macclesfield, the blackout complete across the streets. Only a residual glow remained in the western sky. As I left the station I noticed a group of older men standing around outside the pub next to the pedestrian tunnel beneath the railway tracks I have to push my bike through the tunnel to reach the main road. They saw me with my bicycle and from the way they moved their heads and shoulders, shunning me, they apparently knew who I was. I had to weave my bicycle between them to get past.

May 8, 1940

Today a consignment of tents, long awaited, in a road/rail/sea shipment that originated months ago in Switzerland, arrived at Manchester docks. I had to spend most of the day arranging for them to be cleared through Customs and prepared for collection later by Red Cross trucks. The sheer number involved gave me an insight into the scale of damage that the Red Cross is expecting.
May 9, 1940

Two more of the officials from our Red Cross branch have moved away, apparently to France. We are now short-staffed. Mrs Woodhurst asked me this afternoon if I thought I could drive an ambulance, which I immediately said I could. That would not conflict with my views and might well give me a sense of the action I am starting to crave.

I was not late leaving the office. It was still daylight as I pushed my bike out of the station and headed for the dark tunnel that led to the road. As I did so, a couple of men in working clothes walked directly at me, their shoulders set and lowered. They barged into me, one on each side, knocking me over. The bicycle clattered to the floor. I landed heavily on one shoulder. As soon as I could recover my breath I shouted after them, asking them why they had done that. They were already at the far end of the tunnel but they turned and looked back. For a moment I thought they were going to return and attack me again.

‘Yellow bastard!’ one of them shouted at me, and the other yelled, ‘Coward!’ Their voices echoed down the curved brick roof of the tunnel.

At least it was only that. My bicycle was undamaged so once I was sure the men weren’t lying in wait for me further along I rode home. I have said nothing about it to B.

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Downloads from The New European Press Library (www. new-libeuro. com
/
UK)
:
From
The Times,
London, May 14, 1940:

Yesterday the Prime Minister, Mr Winston Churchill, addressed the House of Commons on the grave crisis that faces the country, following the German invasion of the Low Countries at the weekend. To a packed Chamber, he said, ‘On Friday evening last I received His Majesty’s Commission to form a new Administration. In this crisis I hope I may be pardoned if I do not address the House at any length to-day. I would say to the House, as I said to those who have joined this Government: “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat.”’

This was Mr Churchill’s first appearance in the House since he took office on Friday. His new war cabinet has been chosen and remaining government appointments, where necessary, will be announced in the next few days. Mr Churchill has declared he will draw his ministers from all parties, forming a government of national unity.

Referring to the overwhelming successes of the German forces, Mr Churchill warned, ‘We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. You ask, what is our policy? I will say: It is to wage war, by sea, land and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: It is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.’

Information released earlier by the War Ministry revealed that the German army is making progress on most fronts. The Belgian and Dutch armies are falling back and the Maginot Line is being circumvented. British and French troops are putting up stiff resistance but such is the speed with which events are occurring that it is so far not possible to predict where the resistance will hold. Mr Churchill concluded his short announcement on a note of rallying defiance.

‘I take up my task with buoyancy and hope,’ he declared. ‘I feel sure that our cause will not be suffered to fail among men. At this time I feel entitled to claim the aid of all, and I say, “Come then, let us go forward with our united strength.’”

From
Stockport Macclesfield Advertiser,
Stockport, May 17, 1940: A Rainow man was attacked by unknown assailants last Friday in Moor Road, Macclesfield. He is said by doctors at Stockport Infirmary to be ‘comfortable’ and has recovered consciousness. The victim, Mr J. L. Sawyer, of Cliffe End in Rainow, was returning from his work in the centre of Manchester when he was attacked by a gang of at least four men.

A police spokesman said that the attack took place after nightfall. Because of the blackout it has been difficult to trace witnesses.

Detective-Sergeant Stephenson of Macclesfield police has appealed for anyone who was in Moor Road between 9 and 10 p.m. last Friday evening, and who might have seen what happened, to come forward. Mr Sawyer suffered multiple cuts and bruises, including a blow on the head. He is expected to make a full recovery.

A spokeswoman for the Manchester branch of British Red Cross, where Mr Sawyer is employed as a clerk, said at the weekend, ‘We cannot imagine who could have carried out the attack. Mr Sawyer is a valued member of our staff. We believe it must have been a random attack on an innocent man.’

There have been several night-time attacks on pedestrians in various parts of Britain since the blackout was imposed last year, but it was the first to take place in this part of Cheshire. Mr Sawyer is married. His wife Brigit has been at his bedside since the attack.

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From holograph letters of J. L. Sawyer and family (Collection Britannique, Le Musee de Paix,

Geneve; www. museepaix. ch /croix-rouge Isawyer /bhs)

The letters of Birgit Heidi Sawyer (nee Sattmann).

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May 12, 1940 to Fit Lt J. L Sawyer, c/o 1 Group, RAF Bomber Command
Dear JL,

I have been unable to reach you by telephone, which is always so difficult for me to use in the phone box. Have you received the messages I sent you? If not I must tell you that Joe has had an accident. He was attacked by a gang on his way home from work and is in hospital. He has many injuries, but they are mostly on the surface. His pride has been hurt most. If you can arrange some leave to see me he is in Stockport Infirmary. (He does not know I am writing to you, of course.)
With love, your close friend, who would like to see you,

Birgit

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May 14, 1940 to Mrs Elise Sawyer, Mill House, Tewkesbury,

Gloucestershire

Dear Mrs Sawyer,

Joseph has improved since you and Mr Sawyer visited him at the weekend and he is expected to come home in a few days’ time. He already is looking much better.

Please, I want to set aside the many arguments we have had in the past, and please, to ask you a great personal favour. Even if you will not do this for me, think of it for Joseph. There are people in the village whispering about me because of where I came from before I was married to your son. I can’t say the words but they think I am working for the other side. They only hear my accent! I am alone here and the house is isolated and after what happened to Joseph I am terrified for every minute of each day. Please
please
may I come to stay with you for a few days, until Joseph is well again? You do not have to come here to fetch me. I can travel by train on my own. It would only be until Joseph is out of hospital. I am begging you.

I am, your loving daughter-in-law,

Yours faithfully,

Birgit Sawyer

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June 3, 1940 to Mrs Elise Sawyer, Mill House, Tewkesbury,

Gloucestershire

Dear Mrs Sawyer,

I am pleased you and your husband were able to visit Joseph and me at the weekend and that you could satisfy yourself about the care I am giving your son. Of course it would be impossible to live up to your high standards, but I do my best. Always we are short of food and even medicines. The difficulty is caused by the rationing but also because it is so hard for us to reach the shops in Macclesfield. This will change once Joseph is able to ride his bicycle again. You are probably correct to point out my mistakes in the kitchen and you may be sure that in future I shall make greater efforts to provide Joseph with the kind of food and clothes that you think he should be having. You need not inform me of this again. I have been talking to Joseph and we are agreed that in future it will be best if he visits you on his own, at your house in Gloucestershire.

Yours sincerely,

Birgit Sawyer (Mrs)

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From the holograph diary of J. L. Sawyer (Collection Britannique, Le Musee de Paix)

June 4, 1940

This evening I found that I was moved to tears after listening to the Prime Minister on the wireless. B

was there with me, listening too. She tried to comfort me but I don’t think she understood. I certainly couldn’t have explained to her, mainly because I don’t understand myself. I’m still amazed by my reaction. That odious man Churchill moved and inspired me. For a moment he even began to persuade me that it was right to fight.