See you soon Caroline! Chapter 11: Languedoc France. Monday, September 14th, 1942

Chapter Eleven: Languedoc, France.

Monday, September 14th, 1942

It was already getting hot and the train was moving only slowly along the track away from Rivesaltes. Helga Krauch held her daughter Lotte on her lap – mercifully she was fast asleep. At least that made things easier. She wondered how she would manage when Lotte awoke and started asking for food or a drink. There were food supplies on the train, but she didn’t know how or when they would be distributed. Fortunately there was a toilet at the end of the corridor. The women and children were travelling in ordinary passenger coaches, dirty and in poor repair it’s true, but at least they were not being treated like cattle! She shuddered to think of the conditions in the box-cars at the front of the train where all the men were confined.

Although she didn’t know it, for no news ever reached the inmates of Rivesaltes, the Archbishop of Toulouse had caused something of a stir a few days after the first convoy had passed through his city. He had been appalled to hear of the treatment of these unfortunate people, and had written a letter which had been read from every pulpit in the diocese the following Sunday.  The letter contained these words:

“Women and children, fathers and mothers treated like cattle, members of a family separated from one another and dispatched to an unknown destination - it has been reserved for our own time to see such a sad spectacle. .. The Jews are real men and women. Foreigners are real men and women. They cannot be abused without limit. . . . They are part of the human species. They are our brothers, like so many others.”

The compartment was packed with women of all ages. Lotte was the only child – in fact there were only three other children under the age of ten on the train. Helga supposed that most of the other mothers had had the courage she lacked, and had given their children into the care of the various relief workers. Had she made a big mistake in refusing to part with Lotte?

The train was passing great lagoons on one side. There were strange birds wading in the shallow waters. She supposed they must be flamingoes, they were so pink. Looking back the way they had come, she could see a range of mountains tumbling down to the sea, but they were getting more distant now. It was a beautiful sight, and she wondered how such beauty could be so near to the filth and ugliness of the camp.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the conversation around her. The women were arguing over their likely destination.

“One thing’s certain!” said one elderly lady. “They’re not sending us to Spain! There’s the Pyrenees over there, and we’re travelling in the opposite direction! My husband and I got out of Germany in 1934 when things were getting tough for us Jews. We settled in France, we thought we’d make a new life there. Everybody knows that the French are a decent lot, there’s no anti-Semitism in France! Then three years ago France was at war with Germany, so they rounded us up and put us in a camp. Well, fair enough! We might have been spies or something I suppose! Now Germany has won the war, they’re in charge in the north, but we’re still free down here in the south – or supposed to be – so you’d think they would let us slip over the border into Spain! Or maybe take us to Marseille and put us on a boat to America. Anything to keep us safe from the Nazis! But where are they taking us? Back to Germany, that’s where! And you can guess what they’ll do with us there!”

There was a general hub-hub in the carriage as everybody tried to speak at once. As the noise died down, Helga realised that the train was stopping.  Looking out of the window, she saw that the signs on the platform read “Narbonne”.

It had become very hot in the carriage, but the station awning provided some shade. The windows and doors were locked and there was no possibility of ventilation, so the halt in the station was most welcome. A few minutes later, the elderly engine which had been pulling the train, slowly puffed past their window. Soon, there was a jolt as it was attached to their end of the train.

“I believe they’re going to take us back again!” shouted someone.

Sure enough, the train began to move back down the way it had just come. The fear of heading east towards Germany began to recede. But this time there were no lagoons and flamingoes, instead they were passing between ranges of hills on either side. A youngish woman looked at the sun and made some calculations.

“We were heading north” she said. “Now we’re going west!”

There was a buzz of conversation.  West was better! The only countries west of France were Spain and Portugal. Or could they be going to a port on the west coast of France? Bordeaux perhaps? But that coast was in occupied France, in German hands! Waves of hope and fear succeeded each other. Was this good news or bad?

It was nearly ten thirty when the train stopped again. Many of the women had been dozing, but Lotte had woken and started to cry. Her mother had had her work cut out trying to keep her amused and comfortable. She had no toys for her, not even a doll or a teddy. They had only been allowed to bring a small bundle of spare clothing, and that was totally insufficient for more than a day or so.

Women were trying to get at the windows now to see what was going on. There was the sound of slamming doors, and the noise and smell of escaping steam and smoke showed that the engine was now only a few metres away from them. On the platform, a small army of mostly women were pushing trollies towards to doors of the train which were being opened by men in police uniform.

“Where are we?” asked someone.

“Toulouse!” answered the policeman who had just opened their door. “Now sit down and keep quiet. You’re in luck! These kind people have brought you some dinner!”

Sure enough, a trolley of steaming rice appeared at the open door. Someone else came with mugs, tin plates, spoons and jugs of water.

The policeman spotted Helga and Lotte and beckoned the mother to the door.

He looked around the platform, smiled, and then said in a low voice “Are you still intending to keep your child with you?”

Helga was astonished at being addressed in this way. The officer obviously knew about her indecision. Or was it simply that she was almost the only mother on the train with a child?

Seeing that she didn’t know how to reply, the policeman continued “When you get to Montauban, the next stop, if you have changed your mind, have your little girl ready and someone will be there to take her.”

Helga found herself nodding wordlessly.

“It will have to be done quickly and without any fuss. I’ll be at this door again, and there will be someone from one of these people to look after her.” He turned and waved his hand to indicate the helpers bustling about with trolleys. “Trust us! It will be for the best!” With that he turned and strode off down the platform.

The other women in the carriage had listened to this exchange in amazement. Their experiences at the hands of the French police had left them with nothing but fear and loathing. One young woman said wonderingly

“There is goodness for you! Take it when you find it!”

Someone else said:

“He must be connected with the Swiss Red Cross in some way!”

“Or the Quakers!” said someone sitting by the door. She moved to allow Helga to take her place. “Sit here with your little girl. It will be easier for you when we get to Montauban!”

“How long will that take do you think?” asked Helga, taking her seat.

The general opinion of the carriage was that it shouldn’t be much over half an hour – once they got going again.

Shortly after there was a blast from the engine’s whistle, and with a jolt the train jerked into motion. As the train pulled out of the station, Helga found the other half of the photo and tucked it inside Lotte’s dress.  She had no means of writing anything on the back of it this time.

The hand-over took place much more easily than anyone could have imagined. The train had stopped in Montauban, and Helga had sat with Lotte on her lap, not knowing what to expect or what to do. There was some commotion at the rear of the train where the men’s box-cars were, and all attention was focused there.  At that moment the friendly policeman appeared with a beautiful Spanish doll in his hands. He held it out to Lotte, who in turn held out her arms to receive it. In a flash she was in his arms, he whirled her round still clutching the doll, and she disappeared into a group of helpers standing behind him. They melted away, and although Helga stared and stared, Lotte was gone!

With tears streaming down her face, Helga was comforted by the other women in the carriage.

“When she’s older and she understands what you did and why you did it, she will thank you for it!” one of them said. The others agreed, and then fell silent as they contemplated what Lotte may have been saved from, and what might still await them.