See you soon Caroline! Chapter 8 Dr Bond

Chapter Eight:

Dr Bond

 

Caroline simply couldn’t believe what she had done! She had agreed to go to John Bond’s home and meet his father! It was a couple of days after she had had the talk with him about being an only child and different from most other members of the class. He had approached her at the end of an English lesson, and told her that his father would like to meet her, because he thought he could help her in understanding what might have happened to her grandfather.

Apparently John’s father was a lecturer at the University, his subject was Modern History. John said that he could explain what living in France in the nineteen forties would have been like, and that he knew a lot about the prison camps and the reason why children were to be found in them. So tonight – this very night – she was to go to his house, and she was wishing very much indeed that she could think of a good excuse for not going!

Her Dad was going to take her, he wanted to be sure that he knew where she was going, and he was going to bring her back at half-past nine. Dr Bond, John’s father, had rung and made these arrangements with her Dad. Now, here she was, getting out of her father’s car in a leafy driveway and walking up the path to a rather grand front door!

Mr Weaver rang the bell, and the door was opened by an elderly seeming lady, rather severely dressed, who announced herself to be John’s mother.

“You must be Mr Weaver” she said smiling. “And you are Caroline! Do come in!”

Caroline’s father excused himself, he said he had some work to do, but would be back at nine thirty. Mrs Bond led the way into a room which reminded Caroline of the public library! Two walls were completely lined with bookshelves, and each shelf was crammed with books. Caroline could see that John’s home life was indeed very different from that of most of his fellow pupils!  Mrs Bond addressed a bearded, tall figure, rather shabbily dressed, who was looking out of the window.

 “This is Caroline Weaver, Philip, John’s friend from school!” And turning to Caroline she added, “And this is John’s father, Dr Bond”.

Caroline looked desperately around the room for some sign of John, but he was clearly missing. Dr Bond, seeing her anxious glances said “John’s upstairs in his study at the moment looking something up. He’ll be down shortly. Do sit down!” He indicated a very plush looking armchair, and Caroline obediently lowered herself into it.

“I’m glad my son has been able to help you with your problem” he continued. “He’s pretty smart at digging out facts like that. Now, I understand that you are on your way to the Languedoc to pay a visit to the camps there?”

Caroline was still trying to come to terms with where she was, and what was expected from her. She wished John would make an appearance quickly and help her to break the ice. What was she supposed to say? She wasn’t sure where the Languedoc was, was that where they were going? And was he talking about the camping site or the concentration camp? Or perhaps both? He did say ‘camps!’

So she stuttered “Good evening Mr Bond”, and then remembered that she should have said ‘Dr’, not ‘Mr!’

Seeing her confusion, Dr Bond came to her rescue by asking “Was it the Rivesaltes camp that your grandfather was removed from?”

“Yes – at least we think it was him. We can’t be sure yet!”

“So my son said. And I believe you are going to the Musee de la Shoah in Paris to look for some corroborative evidence?”

‘Oh help!’ thought Caroline. ‘What’s he on about now!’ But she just smiled weakly and nodded.

“Dad means, ‘You’re going to the Holocaust museum in Paris to find out if it really was your Grandad’ – right?” The voice came from behind her, and turning round she saw to her great relief John Bond standing there.

“Oh Hi!” said Caroline in relief! “Yes, that’s right”

“As I understand it – your grandfather (let’s assume it was he) was taken from the camp in September 1942. Is that correct?” asked Dr Bond.

Caroline nodded.

“And you want to know how he came to be there?”

“Yes. It seems so strange that a baby should be in prison – and not with his parents either!”

“Oh I think we can be sure that he was with his mother. It was only the older children who were separated from their parents. And of course, fathers and mothers were separated from each other too. The older boys would have been with their fathers.”

“I see”

“As to how he came to be there – well, his name suggests that his family was Jewish and from Germany. When Hitler came to power in 1933, it soon became obvious that things were going to get difficult for the Jews, so the wise ones got out – to France, Belgium, Britain, America, – anywhere that would have them. Then, when France and Britain declared war on Germany in 1939, your grandfather’s family would have been arrested and placed in hastily thrown up camps mostly in the countryside. We did the same thing here in Britain with any German families, just in case they were spies! When the authorities were satisfied that they didn’t present any threat, most of the women and children were released, and many of the menfolk too.  This was the period we called the ‘phoney war’. Now -  you tell me Caroline – what happened in May 1940?”

Caroline suddenly realised that she was expected to answer!

“The fall of France?”

“Not yet! That came a month later, but during that month thousands and thousands of people from Belgium and Holland poured into France, and together with the people of northern France, this great tide of humanity choked the roads leading to the south. Your grandfather’s family would have been amongst them. But by the middle of June it was all over, France had fallen, the northern part was occupied by German forces, but the south became the ‘non-occupied zone’, and it was controlled by a new French Government based in the spa town of Vichy.”

“But my Grandad wasn’t born until 1942!”

“That’s right! It would have been just his mother and father. They would have lost everything except what they had been able to carry with them. They would have had to queue up at feeding stations along with all the other refugees. And they would have been friendless, because they were Germans, and it was the Germans who had caused all this chaos!”

“But they would have been free to manage as best they could wouldn’t they?” asked John.

“Not for long! The new French government in Vichy needed to heap the blame for the sudden defeat on someone, so they started to imitate Germany and put the blame on the Jews.  It wasn’t long before laws were passed, similar to those in Germany which had made your grandfather’s family leave home in the first place. Those who were teachers, doctors, lawyers – all the professional classes, found themselves out of work. And they had to register as Jews, and their identity cards were stamped with a ‘J’ which made it impossible for them to find other employment.”

“And they had to wear a yellow star on their clothing, didn’t they?” asked John

“Well, actually, No! That was about the only thing that the Vichy government didn’t copy from the Germans.  That was only made compulsory in the north – in the occupied zone.  But your grandfather’s family would have found life getting more and more difficult. They would probably have tried to keep a very low profile. The best solution would have been to move on again, but no one could leave France without an exit visa, and to get one of those you had to apply at the town hall or somewhere similar, and that meant exposing yourself to more trouble.”

“So how did they end up in a place like Rivesaltes?” asked Caroline.

“Well, in 1942, the French police started rounding up all the Jewish families and placing them in camps. Eventually, they moved them all to this one huge camp near the Spanish border, and then via Paris to the extermination camps in Poland. Rivesaltes became a sort of waiting room before the final journey.”

Caroline shuddered. “But surely people must have known what was going on? Didn’t anybody try to stop this happening?”

“Yes, there were those who spoke out against packing people like animals into trucks and sending them off to an unknown fate. The Archbishop of Toulouse for one. He ordered an address to be read from every pulpit in the diocese condemning what was happening. But to be honest, there was little that anybody could do. It was too late. Except for one thing, and that was to save the children.”

“How did they manage to do that?” asked John

“For some time, various relief agencies like the Red Cross had been taking children out of the camps and sheltering them in old mansions and castles, with the approval of the authorities. It relieved them of the responsibility of feeding and clothing them. They were supposed to go back to the camps eventually. But when the time came for the trains to be filled with Jews, gypsies, and other so-called ‘undesirables’, the relief agencies managed to hide many of these children away and ensure that the trains left without them.”

“But their mothers and their fathers went on the trains?” said Caroline.

“I’m afraid so. And that’s how so many children ended up as orphans, just like your grandfather!”

Caroline sighed. “I don’t know whether I really want to see this camp where such terrible things happened. But I do want to try and find out who this person was who rescued Grandad. I suppose she will be dead by now, but it would be good to find her children if she had any.”

“And that’ll take some detective work” said John’s father. “Good luck!”

 

 “Well, how did it go” asked Caroline’s dad as he drove her home.

“OK!” his daughter replied. “I was pretty scared – going there I mean, especially when I saw what sort of house John lives in. But it was good – he was really helpful. He showed me lots of pictures of what the camp was like when Grandad was there. It’s just ruins now!”

“You’re really sure that it was Grandad who was there, aren’t you?”

“Yes I am! Everything fits! But I can’t wait to get to that museum in Paris. John’s dad thinks we might get the proof we need there!”

Dad sighed. “So that’s something else that needs fixing!  We need to find somewhere to stay near Paris on the way down. I’ll see to that tomorrow!”