A Missunderstanding 30 January 1939

 “You will be fine,” said John. “Absolutely fine. You’ll learn very quickly once you start school. Your uncle said you learnt Italian really quickly?”

“That was different,” wailed Renate. “We’d had lessons at school and then we only had to speak it to the skiing instructor. Tomorrow I’ve got to be able to understand everything in school.”

“And I’m giving you lessons,” said John. “It’s all around you all the time. The school is, thank God, anyway, exactly like the one you were going to go to in Stuttgart.”       

“Except that they all speak English,” muttered Renate.

“So we should practice now,” said John. “Come on, we shall speak English. Tell me everything you see!”

It was an unusually warm day for January. There were ducks and even swans bobbing along happily on the Thames. Renate could hardly believe that the trees and the birds and the bees were going on as normal – in fact better than normal – despite  all the strange things that were happening to her. The sun made the water sparkle and you could see the reflections of all the tall buildings quite clearly on the water.

“Come on, then,” said John slowly in English. “What can you see?”

“Ich kann eine,” Renate started. She didn’t even know how to say “I can”.

“I can,” John said slowly for her.                        

 “Well, I can see a bridge, Tower Bridge,” said Renate carefully.“And Big Ben. Zhe-” She really did have trouble with “the”. She paused, took a deep breath, and placed her tongue firmly between her teeth. “The Houses of Parliament in London- the capital of - the United Kingdom.”

Mrs Smith nodded and smiled. She muttered something to John. He laughed.

“My mother thinks you sound like a tourist book,” he said.

 “What can you see on the river?” he asked, switching back to German. . 

“I can see some boots, and I can see a bugger,” replied Renate.

“What?” asked Mrs Smith.

A gentleman who was standing next to them cleared his throat and frowned at Renate.

“I can see a big bugger,” repeated Renate, looking sideways at the man, wondering why he seemed so hot and bothered.

“Well, really,” he muttered and hurried away.

“Bugger?” asked John. “Where did you learn that word?” he added in German.  You mustn’t say that. It’s a really bad swear word.”

“What have you been teaching her?” asked Mrs Smith.

“What do you mean?” asked John, ignoring Mrs Smith’s question.

“Look, bugger,” said Renate, pointing at the large craft which was slowly making its way upriver.

“Dredger,” said John. “That’s a dredger.” He laughed. “Of course. You’re trying to say the German word the English way,” he added in German.

“Oh, I’ll never get the hang of this stupid language,” moaned Renate, blushing bright red. “They’ll all laugh at me tomorrow.”

“They won’t laugh,” said John. He translated for his mother.

Mrs Smith gave her a huge hug. She said something which Renate could not understand, and shook her head violently. 

“They’re going to be nice,” said John in German. “But you’ve got to see the funny side of it. That man thought you were calling him a very rude word.”

He explained to Mrs Smith. She put her hand over her mouth and went very red. Then her eyes twinkled and suddenly she was laughing. 

 “Go on, laugh,” said John. 

Suddenly Renate found herself giggling helplessly at the thought of the gentleman’s face. And laughing made her feel better. Perhaps tomorrow would not be so bad after all.   

Hani, 10 February 1939

Trying on the uniform

“It will look very smart once you’ve got it on properly,” said Rikki. “You just give me a shout when you’re ready and I’ll help you get that neckerchief straight. Get that right and you’ll look really good. Especially as I’ve ironed every single crease out of it all.”

Rikki let herself out of Hani’s bedroom.  Hani stared at the skirt and shirt laid out neatly on her bed. It would look quite smart, she supposed. But only if it fitted her properly. It would certainly look good on some of the slimmer girls. She was glad, actually, that her uniform was navy-blue and white and not the ugly brown that the boys had to wear.  She touched the skirt. Actually, the material felt a bit softer that what she’d had to wear when she was in the Jungmädelbund.

The inauguration ceremony

“But we must also give this warning:” he said. There was something in his tone that suggested he was coming to the end of his speech. Thank goodness! “If you do not stand together, but become disunited, if you are not loyal, but disloyal, if you do not work and are cowardly, you will fall into terrible chaos and Germany will collapse. God will have no home in Germany any longer.”

eve in the God that loved everybody?  Why should he single out the Germans?      

The young man was still speaking. “….It is therefore our holiest  

Duty to fight to our last breath

Anything that threatens or endangers the life

Of our people. God will decide

Whether we live or die.”

Hani joined in with the others. “This we pledge.” I just don’t get it, she thought. What’s the point of doing anything if God is going to decide in the end what happens? It doesn’t make any sense. None of it does. 

“We want to be free from all selfishness.

We want to be fighters for this Reich

Named Germany, our home.

The language dilemma

I once saw two different productions within a fortnight of the same Molière play. One was a close translation of the original text, and  it's staging contained many of the elements of the time when it was written. The second one was brought right up into the 21st century, with a modern setting and modern jokes. Quite quirkily it was delivered mainly in rhyming couplets. I slightly preferred the latter though also appreciated the former. I remember this as I try to make my decision now.

I'm currently working on the third book in the Schellberg cycle. This one is almost completely fictional and set in  Nazi Germany. I'm allowing my characters to speak in quite modern English. I do agree that this would sound strange if the story were set in 1940s Britain. However we're one step away here as the characters are all speaking another language some of the words and phrases might be useful. In any case, just as in the second version of the Moliere play, bringing our characters into the 21st century might make them more accessible.

A couple of examples:

1. older brother Kurt refers to younger Eberhard as "Bro". This could anyway be a translation of "Bruderchen" or "Mein Bruder" both of which may have been used in the 1940s.

2. A school girl struggling with fractions complains that the work is "doing my head in". This phrase does not exist literally in German. However there was no doubt something equally colloquial then in German as there is probably as well now. The modern German would not be appropriate but the modern English may be acceptable as an equivalent.

So, there seems to be a suggestion that this might work.

However, in the first novel, The House  on Schellberg Street , I do use a  1940s' English. This is partly because it is set in that place and time and partly because the letters I transcribed as part of my research produced a certain pleasingly old-fashioned tone.

So. It remains a dilemma for the moment. It could be that by the time you read this a decision has been made.

Renate Edler

Renate Edler was born on 25 July 1925 in a thunderstorm at Jena. She was premature and she was not expected to live. The local priest was sent for straight away so that she might be christened. He was a little drunk.  He named her Klara Renate although her family had wanted her to be Renata, spelt the Italian way with Clara, with a C, as a second name and in honour of her two grandmothers. She always claimed that the priest’s mistake helped to save her life. 

The family moved from Jena to Nuremberg. Renate then went to the Wilhelm Löhe School. This was a school for girls run according to Lutheran principles. Renate had no idea that she was Jewish but all of the teachers who knew about her helped her family to keep this a secret from her and from the authorities. Nuremberg was possibly the worst place for a young Jewish girl to live in the 1930s. The huge rallies were held there and the prolematice race laws were created there.

She had the opportunity to go on a school trip to Italy. For this she needed a passport. Her father took her to the office where children’s passports were issued. He had a fearsome row with the officious young man there. Her father wanted her correct name on her passport.  Naturally, she had to have her name as on her birth certificate. They were sent round the corner to get an adult passport as she was already old enough. When she needed to leave Germany in 1939, she already had a passport though an identity card would have been enough. However, there was much confusion about this and having the passport already possibly made processing paperwork quicker. 

Sophie Scholl

Sophia Scholl was born on 9 may 1921 and died on 22 February 1943.  She was executed by guillotine because of her involvement in the White Rose movement.

Her activities included distributing anti-war leaflets with her brother Hans at the University of Munich.      

Sophie was brought up as a Lutheran and enjoyed a happy, carefree childhood. When she was twelve, she joined the Jungmädel, the junior version of the Bund Deutscher Mädel. Their parents were not so enthusiastic. Their father, Robert Scholl, told his children that Hitler and the Nazis were leading Germany down a road of destruction. Later, in 1942, he would serve time in a Nazi prison for telling his secretary: “The war! It is already lost. This Hitler is God's scourge on mankind, and if the war doesn't end soon the Russians will be sitting in Berlin.” Gradually, Hans and Sophie began realizing that their father was right. They concluded that, in the name of freedom and the greater good of the German nation, Hitler and the Nazis were enslaving and destroying the German people.
Sophie had a talent for and loved painting and drawing. She also had a very firm Christian belief, which led her to believe in every human being’s basic dignity. This in turn led her to resist the Nazi ideology.
She loved children, so worked as Kindergarten teacher. She hoped that this might count for her Reichsarbeitsdienst. She had to do this before she could go to university and unfortunately her work as a Kindergarten teacher was not recognised. In Spring 1941 therefore she had to do similar work in Blumberg. She found the military-like regime distasteful and she began to think about passive resistance.
After her RAD was complete she enrolled at the University of Munich to study biology and philosophy. She made friends there with a group of people who joined in student life to the full but who eventually became politically active. They wanted to end the Nazi time and World War II.
The group designed, printed and distributed leaflets encouraging people to end the war and resist the Nazi regime. On 22 February Sophie, her brother Hans and their friend Christoph Probst were beheaded.
 Her last words were:

How can we expect righteousness to prevail when there is hardly anyone willing to give himself up individually to a righteous cause. Such a fine, sunny day, and I have to go, but what does my death matter, if through us thousands of people are awakened and stirred to action?

A film has been made of her story: SophieScholl – The Final Days, 2005, screen play by Fred Breinersdorfer and directed by Marc Rothermund.    

Nicholas Winton

Nicholas Winton was born on 19 May 1909. He helped to rescue 669 children, most of whom were Jewish, from Czechoslovakia. He did this through what came to be known as the Czech Kindertransport. He founded homes for the children in Britain as well as helping then to get there. The UK press has sometimes referred to him as the British Schindler. 

His parents were German Jews who moved to Hampstead. London in 1909.     

Winton's parents were of German-Jewish origin, originally called Wertheim. In 1907, they moved from Germany to Hampstead, London where they also changed their name.
Just before Christmas in 1936, Winton, by now a stockbroker, gave up a skiing holiday in order to help a friend in Prague, Martin Blake, who was working with Jewish refugees. He decided to set about organizing help for the children of Jewish families who were at risk form the Nazi regime. His office was a dining table in his hotel.
He found places for 669 children on a special Kindertransport. The last group of 250 left Prague on 1 September 1939.  Unfortunately this last group was sent back because the Nazis invaded Poland. Most of them did not survive the Holocaust. 250 people waited for them in vain at London Liverpool Street station. Of the 669 who did get to Britain, most never saw their parents again. 
Winton registered as a conscientious objector and worked first for the Red Cross and then in Administrative and Special duties for the Royal Air Force during World War II.  
He kept quiet about all the rescue work he had done until his wife Grete found a scrapbook in their loft in 1988. It contained lists of children, including their family details. 80 children who had been saved were contacted and appeared with Winton on a special edition of Esther Rantzen’s That’s Life broadcast that year.   
In 2010, Winton was named a British Hero of the Holocaust by the Britsh Government. A statue in his honour was erected at Maidenhead Station in September 2010. There is another statue exists at Prague railway station.
On 1 September 2009, a special "Winton train" set off from the Prague Main railway station. The train, consisting of an original locomotive and carriages used in the 1930s, headed to London via the original Kindertransport route. On board the train were several surviving "Winton children" and their descendants, who were to be welcomed by Winton in London. The occasion marked the 70th anniversary of the intended last Kindertransport, which was due to set off on 3 September 1939 but never did because of the outbreak of the Second World War.