See you soon Caroline! Chapter 20 The Maternity at Elne

Chapter Twenty:

The Maternity at Elne

Robert was as good as his word, he was there promptly at ten a.m.  “You can cram into this old car if you want!” he said. “But you’ll be more comfortable in your own, if you don’t mind driving again.”

Caroline looked around for Pierre, but there was no sign of him. Robert noticed her uncertainty and said “If you’re looking for Pierre, I’m afraid that he can’t be with us today. He’s needed at home, apparently.”

Caroline had just assumed that he would be coming as well, nothing had been said yesterday to suggest otherwise. On the other hand, he hadn’t said that he would be coming, perhaps she should have invited him? And there were only two days left – if she was going to get to know him better, she couldn’t afford to miss any opportunity! Was this engagement at home just an excuse? She became aware that they were all getting into her Dad’s car.

“Day-dreaming again!” chided her mother. “Come on, Robert hasn’t got all day!”

“Where are we going?” asked Mr Weaver, fastening his seat-belt.

“Just down the road really” answered the teacher. We’re going to a place called the Chateau d’en Bardou. It’s not what you would call a castle in England, it’s more like a big house. But it’s beautiful, and it’s got a remarkable history which could interest you very much!”

“Which way do I go?” asked Mr Weaver, pulling out through the campsite gates.

“You know the way out onto the main road. When you get there, turn right towards Elne and Perpignan -  the way we went yesterday to Rivesaltes.”

It only took a few minutes to reach the turning for Elne. Caroline was gazing out of the window, but not really taking in what her eyes were seeing. She didn’t notice the magnificent cathedral as they crawled past in the heavy traffic, nor was she aware that they were now out in the country again, and passing beneath the railway line.

“Turn right here!” ordered Robert.

They were driving down a narrow lane, and just ahead through the trees Caroline could see a most remarkable building. It was square in shape, not very big but unusually tall, and the top was crowned with a large glass dome.

“You have to park round here in the field” said Robert to Mr Weaver. “If you’re lucky, you may be able to find some shade alongside this wall.”

A few minutes later, having parked, they all jumped out and followed another family walking towards the entrance gates.

“What is this place Robert?” asked Mrs Weaver.

“Its name is the Chateau d’en Bardou, but most people know it as the Swiss Maternity at Elne. You will be able to pick up some leaflets about it when you get inside, but I’ll give you a few details now while we’re walking along. A young woman from the Swiss Red Cross came here in 1939. She realised that this building – which was empty and deserted - would make a fine hospital where she could bring pregnant women from the camp at Argeles, somewhere where they could have their babies in peace and safety. She was called Elisabeth Eidenbenz. When the refugees were moved to Rivesaltes, she carried on her work there too, and Jewish women as well as the Spanish girls had their babies here. When the deportations commenced, she assisted in hiding children here.”

They were at the entrance. “There’s a small charge for entry.” said Robert. “It goes towards the upkeep of this place. It was only a few years ago that this house was rediscovered in ruins and it’s been an expensive business getting it into shape again!”

Inside the building, they found themselves looking at panels explaining the events of 1939 and onwards. There were pictures of the mothers and their children, and some of the pictures were really shocking, showing babies who were nothing but skin and bone. “The mothers were fed properly here” said Robert.  “They had the kind of care that you would expect to find in a peacetime hospital. It was a wonderful break for them, but of course they had to go back eventually, to make room for others.”

“How many babies were born here?” asked Mrs Weaver.

“About six hundred! If we go upstairs, you will see all their names!”

So upstairs they went, and there hanging from the ceiling was a huge list of names. It reached from the ceiling to the floor, and in four columns it listed every child born in that house, from the first in December 1939 to the last, in April 1944.

“Why are only the first names shown, with just an initial for the last names?” asked Caroline of a guide who was seated at a table containing leaflets.

“Because many are still alive, and we must respect their privacy” she replied.

Caroline was looking down the lists. They were in date order. She came to the date of her grandfather’s birth, February 13^th, 1942. And there it was: ‘Franz K’!

For a moment, she couldn’t speak! Then she gasped “Look! Look! It’s Grandad! He must have been one of those born here too!”

The others followed her pointing arm. “It’s the right date, sure enough” said her father. “But can we be certain? What do you think, Robert?”

“It would be a coincidence if it were not your father!” he replied. “Everything matches. You know that your grandparents were in the camp of Rivesaltes. I would say that this is where he was born. I was hoping that we might be lucky and find him on this list. What a good thing that I thought of bringing all of you here!”

There were two more floors to explore, all filled with panels containing photographs of the mothers and their babies.

“Perhaps your father and his mother are here!” said Mrs Weaver to her husband.

Unfortunately none of the pictures had names or other details, so the family couldn’t identify anybody.

“After all the terrible things we’ve seen, in Paris, at Argeles and Rivesaltes, it’s wonderful to find this place where everything was clean and welcoming, and where they must have felt safe – if only for a while!” said Mum.

“It wasn’t as safe as you might think!” said Robert. “Elisabeth was supposed to tell the authorities if any Jewish mothers or babies were here. Of course, she didn’t, their names were changed and they were passed off as Spanish. But one day a German officer came and took away a Jewish mother for deportation with Elisabeth just standing there helplessly, unable to save her. Elisabeth was arrested by the Gestapo eventually, but was released as they could prove nothing against her, and she had the protection of her Swiss neutrality.”

They were back at the campsite by lunch-time, and Caroline wandered over to the bar to see if Pierre was there, but there was no sign of him. She joined the rest of her family at the pool during the afternoon. They had much to talk about, and were looking forward to their move on Saturday with mixed feelings. Mr Weaver was keen to get to their next campsite in Provence, which was his first choice until the business of Rivesaltes and Grandad had cropped up. Simon and Mum were quite happy where they were, and didn’t particularly want to move. And Caroline – well, Caroline couldn’t even bear to think of moving on and perhaps never seeing Pierre again! But she was thrilled that they had found another fact about her grandfather, and she looked forward to sharing all this with him when they returned home. But she wished that Pierre had been there too, to share her excitement!