Little pockets of Britain, such as Gibraltar, can be found in the most unexpected places.
You will know them by their breakfasts.
Their unique signage…
And their excellent thrift stores…
…which are staffed by the friendliest most helpful people, like Thelma and Kathy with a ‘K’.
In Britain, thrift shops are centrally located, often on the high street, each dedicated to a worthy cause: for the poor, cancer research, head injuries, or mental illness. Thelma and Kathy, Hospice Shop volunteers, saw us trying on Queen Mum hats and took it upon themselves to outfit us. Each time Kathy handed a new outfit into the fitting room, she said, “My talents are wasted in the office!” And we had to agree.
Our Channel Island adventure actually began with last month’s trip to Belgium. My sister Constance and I had both enjoyed reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. While we were on that side of The Pond, we decided to visit at least one of the Channel Islands.
Jersey Island is home to the famous Jersey Cow…
…home to the famous Jersey Royal Potato…
But first, you may ask, how does Jersey, which is spitting distance from France, come to be so very English?
Back in 1066, after William the Duke of Normandy conquered England he changed his name to William the Conqueror and expanded his job description to include ‘King of England.’
The Channel Islands were a possession of Normandy long before England was, and remained so until 1214, when King John of England (aptly nicknamed ‘John Lackland’) lost Normandy to France. The islanders picked up their marbles, cast their lot with England rather than France, and were rewarded for their loyalty with privileges other English possessions did not enjoy. To this day they are “bailiwicks’ of England, possessions of the crown, but separate from Britain, with their own financial, legal, and judicial systems. This, BTW, is why financial business is Jersey’s main industry, and the per capita income is much higher than in most countries. And why, Thelma explained, the thrift stores have such great merchandise. They can afford to wear it once to a wedding and give it away!
Roy started our tour here. On June 28th, 1940, the Nazis preceded their occupation of the Channel Islands by bombing this harbor. He showed us bullet holes in the stone wall from machine gun strafing and, sadly, a memorial to the dead.
Signs of the German occupation remain all over the island. It was one of the most fortified German holdings in Europe, far out of proportion to its strategic value. Hitler, disappointed at his failure to conquer England, took particular satisfaction in occupying the Channel Islands, and he meant to keep them at all costs.
The Jersey War Tunnels are a huge complex of underground tunnels built by the Germans during the occupation, using slave labor. The Germans maintained a hospital there for wounded German soldiers.
The tunnels, like the history, seem to go on and on forever. The museum established in the tunnels echoes with footsteps and voices from the past.
They pull no punches, telling both the good and the bad that occurred on the island.
At first there were only a few hundred Germans, who were told to keep relations with the natives civil. Being stationed on Jersey was like a picnic to the Germans, with merchandise on the shop shelves to send home to their families, no bullets or bombs to dodge, and little resistance.
Below are just two of the museum mannequins that came to life and spoke in English with German accents, trying to engage us as they might have done to islanders in 1940. He was the enemy, the occupying army, and had the power of life and death over you, and then there were the stories of Nazi brutality that had preceded the soldiers. With all that in mind, would you respond to a German soldier if he shouted a cheery greeting to you, or could you ignore him?
Would you do his laundry if he offered you extra food rations? What if he said your child looked like his little boy at home and offered to buy him an ice cream?
As the war proceeded, conditions worsened. Thousands more soldiers came, as many as one German soldier for every two islanders. Rules tightened, food and supplies grew scarce, civility waned. Owning a radio was a crime punishable by death. One woman was shot for rejecting the advances of a German soldier. Other women had affairs with them, were judged harshly and called “Jerry bags” by the islanders. Some escapes were attempted, but few were successful; those apprehended were shot or deported to Auschwitz, where most perished. Some people sheltered fugitive slaves, shared their resources, or found other ways to resist the Nazis. Also on exhibit were letters sent anonymously by islanders to Nazi commanders betraying their neighbors’ transgressions. Why? To settle old scores or to curry favor or simply for financial gain. It happened all over Europe, but it was still sobering and sad.
Eleanor Roosevelt said that a woman is like a teabag–she never knows how strong she is until she gets into hot water. I think that’s true, and it is in times of war and desperation when your true colors show.
The occupation of Jersey is the subject of Roy’s book, Tess of Portelet Manor.
“In pre-war Jersey, Tess Picot is young and in love. Living with her mother in a cottage on idyllic Portelet Common, the days are sunny and long. But can it last? Soon the clouds of war approach and the Channel Islands are occupied by Hitler’s Nazi troops. Tess’s heart has been broken, maybe beyond repair. But like the cottage on the common Tess grows stronger as the long years go by.Follow Tess Picot as she battles through the harsh Occupation years, loses friends and tries to love again. Will she succeed? The journey is a remarkable one with an unexpected ending.”
We took a hike…
…and saw the raw beauty of the island.
…with stories to be discovered everywhere, from many different periods in history,
…or legends based on natural features, such as The Devil’s Hole.
All of it was pure gold.
Roy pointed out the places we had read about in his book. This was the beach Tess walked on, until the Germans mined it.
Here was the hotel where the Nazis set up their headquarters.
And here it is today, just around the corner from where my sister and I were staying.
I can’t remember whether Tess and her mum came to this pub for a pint, but we did. It was the perfect way to top off an incredibly full day.
As our ferry pulled away, Jersey faded into the fog, but the island’s stories and histories remain vivid, colorful, and compelling.
Click here for more interpretations of the Weekly Photo Challenge: The Hue of You.