Jersey
under the Swastika!

Page 5 - Philip Frederick Le Sauteur

CHAPTER ONE (SECTION 1)

The Occupation

June 1940, with its lighting sequence of tragic events in France, brought the engulfing wave of war rapidly nearer to the peaceful Channel Islands as each day passed. Dunkirk, the fall of Paris, the new British landings further down the French coast and the subsequent withdrawal, all helped to bring nearer the realization that the Islands were not to be left undisturbed in their serene way of life. By mid-June, British troops were being taken off from St. Malo — this with the aid of many of the yachtsmen and fishermen of the islands, the operation being successfully carried through without enemy interference.

During the period June 15th to 18th, the Islands were hurriedly fortified to cover the retreat, and the hope was general that a defensive stand would be made. On the evening of June 19th, however, it was made known (by the  Lieutenant Governor, General Harrison, in Secret Session of the States) that the Islands were to be undefended, and that arrangements for a voluntary evacuation had been made. The British troops and all equipment were taken away as hurriedly as they had arrived but a few days before, using vessels of all sizes from train ferries downwards. The local Militia, many of whom had only been called up a week or two before, were shipped away, and the Defence Volunteers disbanded, and their arms, together with all other rifles and guns, collected in accordance with the policy of declaring the Islands an undefended zone.

Dazed by the bewildering rapidity of events, the 100,000 Islanders were given the space of a few hours to decide which was the lesser of two evils — to remain under probable German occupation, or to leave home,  jobs and possessions and evacuate to England. The greater part of that night was spent in most homes discussing the pros and cons of this most bitter choice, and selecting and packing 25 lbs, clothing and food for 24 hours which each person was allowed to carry, in case the eventual decision should  be to evacuate. Going meant, for most people, losing all they ever had or hoped to have; it meant separation from those friends and relations who, for one reason or other, decided to stay; and it meant being taken as strangers to a strange country, where there was no immediate prospect of work, or even of sustenance except by the charity of those with whom they came into contact. The prospect on the other side of the picture was even more baffling. Staying certainly meant remaining in one's own home, and being on the spot to look after one's interest if it were possible. But the possibilities of a Nazi occupation, what were they? Propaganda had painted some horrible pictures, but were they to be believed? The majority of the Islanders, with their inherent dislike of change in any form, refused to be panicked into "running away", as they termed it, just because the Germans might be coming. Such were the arguments bandied in thousands of homes during that long night, causing minds to be changed and changed again.

From an early hour the following morning crowds gathered in a long queue outside the Town Hall with the intent of registering to go, although many of them had still not finally made their minds what to do. Surprised at the number who apparently intended to go, the Bailiff and other States Members appealed to them not to run away, assuring them of greater safety in staying. This, combined with the reports reaching the crowd of the wretched conditions of travel aboard the evacuation ships, which had already begun to leave — cargo ships of all types with the women and children crowded into the holds and their menfolk only just able to stand on the decks — caused many to leave the queue. But even so, many thousands stood throughout the day in a surging mass, still changing their minds as others, who had already decided to go (or to stay) brought forth the stock arguments in favour of their own decision.

The wildest rumours passed along the crowd — Russia and Turkey had entered the war and were smashing back the Germans — an evacuee ship had been machine-gunned by German planes — all helping to increase the nightmare effect of this day which must surely rank as one of the blackest in Channel Islands history.

Throughout the day, and on the following day, ship after ship left the harbours, crowded with evacuees and the pitifully small bundles which represented the whole of their possession. The piers were thronged with groups of people waiting to board each ship as she made fast alongside, meanwhile saying goodbye to friends and relations who were not going. There were many heart-rending scenes, and even an occasional case of a prospective evacuee changing his mind at the very last moment, and collecting family and baggage and returning home. Many cars, cycles and perambulators were left abandoned on the quays, having performed their last service to their owners by bringing them to the evacuation boats. About one-third of the entire population left the Island during those two days.

During the days following the mad panic of evacuation things settled down again. Shops, most of which had been closed, reopened, and mail-boats continued to run between the Islands and England twice weekly, though only staying in harbour long enough to discharge and reload passengers and cargo. People were able to find out which of their friends and relations still remained in the Island, for in most cases there had been no time for goodbyes. There was some panic buying of clothing, non-perishable foodstuffs and other essentials, and the town had a busy air which belied the fact that a big proportion of the population was missing. Some news came through from those who had gone, telling of their safe arrival after many long hours of travel under the worst possible conditions, and of the arrangements which had been made for their reception.

Odd German planes became as regular visitors as the R.A.F. had been a few days earlier, flying very low, apparently reconnoitring for any hidden defences. Everyone got quite used to this sort of thing, and it came as rather a shock when, on the evening of June 28th, raids were carried out simultaneously on Jersey and Guernsey. Some considerable amount of damage was caused at La Rocque and around the harbours, the total casualties for both harbours being about 50 killed and 100 wounded. The A.R.P. services operated under great difficulties, as many of the personnel had evacuated, and the raid following so soon after, it had not been possible to find out who was missing and to make new arrangements. During the week-end other planes appeared at intervals and indulged in machine-gunning at random, with negative results. Such was the introduction to the Island folk of their guests-to-be.

During the small hours of Monday morning, July 1st., 1940, several copies of an ultimatum, couched in the following terms,  were dropped:

1. I intend to neutralize military establishments in Jersey by occupation.

2. As evidence that this island will surrender the military and other establishments without resistance and without destroying them, a large white cross is to be shown as follows from 7.0 a.m., July 2nd, 1940:

(a) In the centre of the airport in the east of the island.
(b) On the highest point of the fortifications of the port.
(c) On the square to the north of the inner basin of the harbour.
Moreover all fortifications, buildings, establishments and houses are to show a white flag.

3. If these signs of peaceful surrender are not observed by 7.0 a.m., July 2nd, heavy bombardments will take place:

(a) Against all military objects.
(b) Against all establishments and objects useful for defence.

4. The signs of surrender must remain up to the time of the occupation of the Island by German troops.

5. Representatives of the Authorities must stay at the airport until occupation.

6. All radio traffic and other communications with Authorities on the island will be considered hostile actions and will be followed by bombardment.

7. Every hostile action against representatives will be followed by bombardment.

8. In case of the peaceful surrender, the lives, property and liberty of the peaceful inhabitants are solemnly guaranteed.

The Commander of the German AirForces in Normandy.
Richthofen, General.