Chapter Seventeen: The Return of the Blitz
September 8, 1940
The prisoners woke up to the whistle at 0600 as usual. All seemed normal. It was just another day. That was until after the guards made their report and Major Duerr returned back to his office. Immediately after he was gone, the guards took to boasting about the latest news on the war. For a long time, there was nothing to report. Basically, the UK and Germany were just staring at one another from either side of the English Channel. But the day before, the waiting game had ended. The blitzkrieg had come again.
The French prisoners only glared and turned shoulders, silently taking in the information. The attack had now begun on Great Britain and all wondered how long they would last. The reaction of the British prisoners, however, was what changed the mood for the day. Immediately, as the news was being told, boos and jeers came from the large crowd of Brits. Then, when they were told it was only London, the calls got louder and more threatening. Tension began to rise in the ranks. The guards realized that the prisoners were rallied up some, and raised their guns.
Then, without warning, Sergeant Wilkerson, the camp medic for the British, suddenly stepped out of line. The guards stepped forward, but stopped when he turned their backs to him and faced the British ranks.
"Silence," he yelled.
Though Wilkerson was definitely not the superior man in the camp, the prisoners heeded his order; they fell silent.
Wilkerson looked over them all. "Now form ranks! Real ones! Just as if you were back at home on the base." At first there were looks of confusion. "Come on, lads! Don't just stand there like you've never heard the word rank. Get going!"
Quickly, and in surprisingly good time, the British rearranged themselves into platoons, putting themselves in order of rank, and then divided almost equally into infantry and air force. When they were done, they all stood at attention, with completely stoic faces.
"That's better," said Wilkerson. "You're in the British Army, so for God's sake, you had better act like it."
He then did an about-face and fell back in line, facing the Germans. The Germans were now perplexed at what had just happened. The guards were unsure if they should deal out any punishment. Every prisoner was absolutely still, as if Prime Minister Winston Churchill was inspecting their ranks. Also, there was an air of resilience amongst them all. The guards looked to one another, unsure of what to do next.
Then, softly at first, someone broke the silence:
"God save our gracious King,
Long live our noble King."
"Quiet," Berg called out sternly.
The voice was hushed, but a moment later was picked up by another prisoner, in a more adamant tone.
"God save the King!
Send him victorious,
Happy and Glorious."
"Silence," cried Berg again. "Once more and you will all—"
The next lines were sung by an entire platoon.
"Long to reign over us;
God save the King!"
The song halted momentarily, as if the prisoners were waiting to see what would happen next. When there was no quick response from the guards, they picked up the next verse quickly and more strongly.
"O Lord our God arise,
Scatter his enemies
And make them fall;
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks,
On Thee our hopes we fix,
Oh, save us all!"
Major Duerr came stomping out of his office. He looked to Berg. "What is going on out here, Sergeant? Are the prisoners present or not?"
Berg looked back at the prisoners, who were still singing steadily.
"Thy choicest gifts in store
On his be pleased to pour
Long may he reign;
May he defend our laws…"
"Jawohl," answered Berg. "They are all here. We already counted. But when they heard the news of the bombings in London, they…they began to sing."
As to emphasize Berg's words, the British began to sing louder.
"And ever give us cause
To sing with heart and voice,
God save the King!"
Berg looked back at his commanding officer. "What do you want us to do?"
"I want you to stop them," answered Duerr sternly. The voices grew even louder.
"Not in this land alone,
But be God's mercies known,
From shore to shore!"
Duerr grabbed Berg's shoulder. "Though I will treat them humanely, they must not rebel. They must not keep all their spirit. Stop them!"
Berg turned back to the prisoners, calling for his men to move in and silence the prisoners. But his orders were dim compared to the singing now.
"Lord make the nations see,
That men should brothers be,
And form one family,
The wide world over."
Berg yelled at his men, and waved his hands, signaling for them to go in. The guards started walking towards the prisoners, their guns raised. But all they met was a roar of patriotic sense and the defiance of a spirit which could not be broken.
"FROM EVERY LATENT FOE,
FROM THE ASSASSINS BELOW,
GOD SAVE THE KING!
O'ER HIS THINE ARM EXTEND,
FOR BRITIAIN'S SAKE DEFEND,
OUR FATHER, PRINCE, AND FRIEND,
GOD SAVE THE KING!"
Then, it was utter silence. Against the roar, the guards had been able to do nothing. The British finished with their chests puffed out, and their eyes shining. The French, whose appel had already ended, were gathered at the fence. They looked on with awe and excitement. Berg looked at Duerr questioningly. The Major's expression was unreadable, but unnervingly calm.
Then, someone else came from Duerr's office. Another officer calmly walked out, and stood behind Duerr, watching the scene. The prisoners regarded him as no one, because they were more concerned with their disciplinarian.
"You will all go to work without breakfast," stated Duerr firmly. No one doubted it. "And you will also go to bed without dinner. You will have no recreation time for a week, and this punishment also goes for your French comrades. I am sure they will thank you for that."
However, out of their resistance, the French prisoners responded enthusiastically.
"Vive la France!"
"Vive la liberté!"
"Dieu épargne le Roi!"
"Vive le King!"
"Silence," yelled Duerr. He shot the French an annoyed look, and the guards on that side of the fence pushed them away, but not into the barracks.
Then, there was laughter, and every eye looked to the officer who had come out after Duerr. The guards went to attention, as well as Duerr.
"Herr Oberst," said Duerr, after snapping off a salute. "Can I help you with something?"
So this was the Kommandant. Every prisoner, and even guard, watched with immense curiosity.
"Major," said the Kommandant. "You will get nothing from these men. They were just informed that there country is under attack, and will inevitably loose the fight." He spoke in almost perfect English.
"'Ow is it that all these German officers know English," whispered Peter to Luke beside him.
"Dunno," mumbled Luke.
"Shhhh," said someone.
"Oberst," said Duerr. "What do you propose I do?"
"Send them to work," answered the Kommandant. "And make sure your men know to never give bad news to the prisoners again."
"They say they do it to break their spirits, sir," explained Duerr.
The Kommandant's eyes narrowed. "Have we not broken them enough?"
With that, he turned and went back inside.
A long silence followed and then Duerr turned back to the prisoners.
"Back in your barracks," he ordered. "Your punishment stands, and you will go to work as planned." The prisoners stood there. "Go!"
Without needing a second invitation, the British went back inside. Back inside Barracke 14, the prisoners discussed events while nursing their wounds.
"Cor Blimey, that felt good," exclaimed Peter. "Did you see the guards' faces?"
"Aye," growled Stephen. "Oh those bastards really had no clue. If that's wot they're all like, then our lads in the air will hold 'em off easy."
"You really think so," asked Luke.
"I know so," stated Dean adamantly. "They can bomb London all they want, an' all that's gonna do is get us madder."
"Bomb London," whispered Peter fiercely, as if suddenly coming to a realization. "Those murderers! They're bombin' 'omes, not factories! Not bases!"
He kicked a Red Cross box across the floor, and clenched his fists.
Silence fell over the barracks.
"They won't do it forever," said Luke. "They will realize their mistake sooner or later. They'll go after the bases eventually."
"I sure 'ope so," said Everley. "Cause if I go back, an' London isn't there, I'll die. London is a part of who I am. Too much o' wot I am I guess. Cause if it goes, I won't be able to make it either."
Peter looked at him, his eyes sad and yet fierce.
"I'd 'ave to say that I agree, mate," he said. "But even more, if my sister dies, Jerry will 'ave 'ell in a 'and basket 'ere."
***** ***** *****
Later in the day, Peter and Luke were once again cleaning the barn. They were the only ones in there, and though usually they talked about anything and everything while working, this time they were silent. Peter was working with a different sort of energy today. With every toss of the shovel, Luke sensed a ferocity that even he feared. True, Luke was angry that now England was being subjected to the blitzkrieg, but he knew that Peter was most likely taking it harder. London was his home, a place had hoped, as he fought, would remain safe. And now, the citizens would be saying good-bye in the evening with a new meaning to phrase.
Suddenly, Luke could not watch his friend torture himself anymore in silent agony. He stopped working and laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. But Peter flinched and drew away. He looked at Luke.
"Wot?"
"Are you okay," asked Luke tentatively.
"I look fine, don't I," said Peter. He went back to working.
"No, you don't actually," said Luke. Peter just snorted in response. "Look, I'm angry too, but don't let it get the better of you."
Peter stopped and spun around. "Wot's that supposed to mean?"
Luke didn't back down. "I just mean that in a place like this, if you let something eat you up, it'll just make life harder than it already is."
"Life is gonna get 'arder," stated Peter. "It's a proven fact. Life never gets easier; only more difficult. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if life does get easier, it's because you cheated your way to it. You took a shortcut. And then, in the end, when you think you defied all, you get shot down. An' no matter wot you do, you never get back to when life was easy."
"You're right," said Luke. "Life isn't supposed to be easy. But you're wrong too. It's easy when you don't care, or you give up, or you're just plain blind."
"Well," said Peter. "If it's that easy, then I give up." He threw his shovel on the ground. "Maybe I'll just run for it right now. And no matter 'ow many times ole Bergie tells me to halt, I won't. I'll just keep runnin'. An' I'll either make it all the way, or I'll get shot. Because I'm never lookin' back."
He turned for the door. Luke grabbed his arm. "Don't you go anywhere! I thought you were better than that! I thought you were stronger than that!"
Peter shoved him roughly against the stall, and kept walking for the door. Luke leapt at him, hitting his legs, and making him fall to the ground. Peter rolled over and tried to get Luke off of him, but Luke fought to keep Peter pinned. They scuffled around, rolling over the hay and mud. Suddenly, Peter landed a punch against Luke's jaw.
Luke fell back, momentarily surprised. But he quickly got back up, once again preventing Peter from getting up and going to the door.
"What about your sister," yelled Luke. "What about her? You going to leave her? You going to let her get a letter one day, saying that you'd been shot while trying to escape?"
Peter froze. Luke grabbed his collar and shoved Peter up against the wall. "You need to stay alive for her. One day, you'll get a letter from her. And you'll get to write her back. Don't you think that maybe she can't wait for your letter too? Just like we wait for the letters from home, don't you think everyone at home can't wait to hear from us? Stop being selfish. Just because we're locked up doesn't mean we have to stop acting strong. You had better not ever die without a good cause." He paused. "And if you need something closer to keep you going, just think about Stephen, Louis, Marcel, and me. We don't want to lose you."
Peter had been still the entire time, looking right into Luke's eyes as he spoke. Suddenly, Luke realized that Peter was shaking. Luke let go of his collar and backed up. He just sat there, looking at Peter while the Corporal contained his emotions. Luke looked away, suddenly realizing that he was sad too. Sadness borne from fear.
They were quiet for a few minutes, neither really feeling like working now. They were content, just sitting there, looking at one another.
Then, someone outside was shouting. German voices were calling after someone. Shots were fired. Peter and Luke jumped up and ran outside. Luke was immediately hit by someone running. Luke and Everley were sprawled on the ground. Suddenly, guards surrounded them all. Peter instantly raised his hands in the air. Everley jumped up, and tried to run on. Peter blocked his path, holding onto Everley's jacket.
"Wot are you doin'," yelled Everley. "Lemme go!"
"Stop Ev," said Peter. "It's over! You can't go anywhere!"
Everley was shaking. "They'll kill 'em! They'll kill me Mum, an' me brothers an' me sisters! It's me 'ome! I won't let them do wot they've done 'ere!"
Luke slowly got up, raising his hands as Berg rushed past him to Everley. He grabbed the corporal roughly by the shoulder and spun him around.
"You are coming back to camp with me," he said. He took out some handcuffs and cuffed Everley's hands together. Then he looked back to Peter and Luke. "Get back to work!"
Luke took Peter's arms and pulled him back inside the barn. He picked up their shovels and handed Peter's his.
"You see," said Luke. "Don't let them get the better of you. You have to be strong."
Peter just nodded and they went back to work.