The Channel Islands At War

by Peter King

  Immediately after the war a flood of books came out dealing with resistance in occupied Europe and Britain's role in supporting it. The work of the Commandos, Small Scale Raiding Forces, MI9 helping escapers and evaders, SOE arming, and financing foreign resistance and particularly the courage of individual agents who had taken off from airfields like Tangmere and Tempsford for Nazi-occupied Europe were all admired.

  Britain's role, described by the distinguished French historian Henri Michel as decisive in every aspect of resistance, seemed beyond reproach as did the conduct of those who organized and took part in resistance. In Europe resistance was given the highest possible profile since it indicated that basic human rights and self-respect had been maintained in a world where European civilization had turned into a charnel house.

  Claims of all kinds were made about the value of this resistance. It had helped rescue and protect evaders and POW escapers. It had carried out sabotage of the Nazi economy, and of particular sites vital to German war effort. It had provided intelligence vital to D-Day. By raising armed forces, it had tied down large numbers of German divisions in Western Europe which could have gone east if the population had been completely cowed. In 1944 and 1945 it played a vital military role in disrupting communications. It paved the way for the return to political normality, and helped to discourage collaboration and purge the body politic of Fascism. Besides these practical contributions there was the simple fact that resistance killed Nazis while others were doing their bidding.

  Henri Michel wrote, 'there was not a single occupied country which did not give birth to its clandestine resistance', but this was untrue. The Channel Islands produced no organized resistance either by the British government, so keen to foster and praise it elsewhere, or by the Island governments. Writing in 1971 Norman Longmate commented that, 'it is hardly a matter of pride that the Channel Islands should have been the only enslaved country without a resistance movement, though one can feel grateful that as a result they were spared the murders, massacres and atrocities which marked German rule elsewhere'.

  During the 1970s, attitudes towards the success or even the wisdom of resistance began to change. As memories of Nazi rule faded, and wartime

  heroism and patriotism became less immediate emotions, historians probed the case for resistance. They said that by creaming off many of the best men and women, and in the process killing a high percentage of them, secret armies and resistance forces deprived the regular forces of much valuable talent: the Channel Islands raids, for example, produced little tangible success, and led to the death of some of those involved. It began to be stressed that bravery was not an individual matter: it involved others because the Germans took reprisals against the innocent. In Sark, Julia Tremayne said the second raid brought them more misery, and on occasions, such as evasion by Nicolle and Symes or the cutting of cables, the Germans acted harshly on the Islands as a foretaste of what might happen if resistance got going in a substantial way. In France at Romainville prison, where a number of Channel Islanders were to end up, a supply of hostages was kept to be drawn on every time a German or Vichy official was killed.

  The Germans were skilful operators of the police state, and employed informers and native Fascists anxious to betray fellow countrymen. They were equally skilled in refinements of execution and torture, and resistance enabled them to put these ideas into practice. Historians suggest the Gestapo and the SS were nourished by resistance, and lives were sacrificed for little purpose other than individual protest.

  Close study of resistance showed, too, a mixture of motives. There were the brave, disinterested, and patriotic; there were also time-serving politicians, criminals who enjoyed breaking the law, and sadists who enjoyed killing people. Some were there, as M.R.D. Foot wrote, 'for the tobacco and the rumours of easy women'.

  On the Channel Islands, Ambrose Sherwill's plea in August 1940 to refrain from provocative behaviour, adhere to the 'strictest conformity' with German orders, and make the occupation 'a model to the world' was heeded to the end by the overwhelming majority of Islanders. In a sense the official line adopted by Coutanche, Carey, and Leale seems to have anticipated the shift in historians' views because they argued resistance was futile, dangerous, and counter-productive. Their view is strongly endorsed by Charles Cruickshank who wrote, it is manifestly impossible that there should have been in the Channel Islands anything like the resistance movements which developed in the larger countries occupied by the Germans." He described the action of discouraging resistance as 'simply plain commonsense’, and agreed that such people as escapers placed innocent lives at risk by their actions. Just as the Island governments hushed up what resistance there was and ill-rewarded the resisters, so Cruickshank largely ignores the courage and significance of unofficial resistance which did lead Islanders to take the lonely decision to oppose the Germans.

  There are arguments on both sides in the Islands as elsewhere in Europe. Something on a similar scale to European resistance was impossible: the weight of the German presence, and the difficulty of escape were strong arguments. The Channel Islands were not a country, but only part of one, and neither their local government nor Whitehall had given any indication that resistance was to be encouraged or

  favoured. Without direct help by MI9 for escapers, or SOE with sabotage, resistance was hamstrung by British government action, and could only be amateur and piecemeal. Officially the Islands were in a war zone subject to military law, and it seemed likely that the death penalty, so often alluded to in notices, would be enforced. It was certainly passed on a number of occasions and, with the disappearance of Islanders to prisons in Nazi Europe, resistance was unwise. If the relative moderation of the Germans and their good relations with the Island rulers were taken into account, it seemed wisest not to disturb this balance by acts which at best could be pinpricks to German power. Larger measures would only provoke savage reprisals and the deaths of innocent Islanders. It was official policy not to resist. It was illegal under the Hague Convention for occupied people to take reprisals. The last Royal Order had told the authorities to carry on the government to the best of their ability. Other arguments pointed in a different direction. Small acts of resistance were not trivial. A myriad of such acts added up to a substantial burden on the nerves and resources of the occupiers, diverted resources, and prevented propaganda from further reducing the will to resist. In an atmosphere where Mrs Tremayne setting out one afternoon to chalk up V-for-Victory signs lost her nerve, every little act had some significance. As Mrs Cortvriend pointed out, however estimable individual Germans were, collectively they were cogs in the German war machine, and "to oil a cog was to increase the machine's efficiency'.

  A price had to be paid for lack of Island resistance: the suffering inflicted went unchecked and unpunished, and the German war machine functioned without interruption at the expense of the Allies.

  Obtaining intelligence was a major risk for resisters, and in the case of the Channel Islands was of two kinds: until the summer of 1944, details of the garrison were needed; thereafter details of the food situation had to be smuggled out. Brave men did this at great risk to themselves. Major Crawford-Morrison, organized the most important of the groups concerned with military intelligence. In his official position as ARP Controller he had a car, and was able to hold meetings without arousing suspicion at the Picquet House (later National Westminster Bank) in Royal Square, St Helier on Saturday afternoons when crowds assembled to hear the German band outside. William Crawford-Morrison, and his main helpers the two brothers. Majors Manley and Major L'Amy, worked away for years until they had acquired a schedule of military fortifications on Jersey. Some of the information was gathered personally by such simple expedients as asking the Germans to notify him of their times of artillery practice so he could warn people of possible damage or noise, or on another occasion memorizing a map of German defences on the wall of von Schmettow's office. Crawford-Morrison also operated a network of agents, some of whom w
orked as drivers or servants for the Germans. One was the gardener at Knackfuss' residence at Linden Court, Frederick Cook. As states surveyor, L'Amy was able to move freely about the Island and spy on German positions. Their information was filmed by Stanley Green, the local cinema projector operator.

  Getting information off the Islands proved difficult, but some was entrusted to escapers, and when Crawford-Morrison and his wife were deported to Biberach he decided to take a copy of the information with him. Although the Germans searched his coat and shoes thoroughly, they did not look in the lining of his flat cap where the plans were hidden. When some of the internees were repatriated to England Crawford-Morrison entrusted the material to one of them, and it reached the British secret service. After he had gone the Germans curbed ARP activity and clearly had their suspicions, but Major L'Amy continued the work helped by Monsieur Lambert, the French consul on Guernsey, who was involved in a number of resistance activities which he would not discuss after the war because he had violated his diplomatic privilege. Information had been obtained about naval defences on Guernsey from a Frenchman, Xavier Golivet, who was an electrician worked for the Germans. Lambert agreed to help him escape if he would take the information, but a boat had to be found.

  Lambert approached two brothers, John and Thomas Le Page. They had no near relatives, so there was no risk of immediate reprisals. They agreed to take Golivet and his dangerous cargo out. Lambert made a waterproof container for the documents which could be dropped overboard if the boat was searched. The Pages knew the French Consul because when their own fishing boat had been damaged in a collision with a German patrol vessel he had given them the Etoile de Marin which the brothers had improved by inserting a 6/8 horsepower engine. Golivet began to go out with them on fishing trips so that suspicion would not be aroused. Night after night in January 1945, Lambert, Golivet and the Page brothers waited for the coincidence of fog and tide they needed for a successful evasion of the tight German fishing regulations. Eight nights passed, but on the morning of 23 January conditions were perfect. It was neap tide, and mist had reduced visibility to about two miles. Shortly before eleven that morning Golivet and the Pages arrived at Albert Pier. While discussions were taking place with the Marine Guards Golivet slipped into the public toilet where Lambert handed over more documents.

  As usual, the Pages were required to give details of their intended trip, and said they were going east to pick up lobster pots, and would then turn southwards. They left harbour and sailed towards the Great Russell where they turned north between Herm and Sark to avoid the German patrol boat. At two o'clock the mist lifted, but by then they were ten miles off Sark and were undetected. Darkness fell as they passed Cape de Flamanville, close inshore, and shots rang out. The boat came in on a sandy beach where they were surrounded by American troops who took them to Cherbourg. Their boat was brought in, and a plane sent off to circle the Island to let Lambert know they had succeeded. The Pages were then sent to London where they presented their documents and an up-to-the-date report on the food situation.

  L'Amy continued to smuggle information out of Jersey, and in February 1945 five boys, two brothers called Le Gallais, C.A. Luxon, and two others, possibly called Foster and Avard or Havard, were entrusted with this. A boat was obtained from one of L'Amy's informants, William Gladden, a boat-builder living at St Martins, and petrol for it was found by one of the Island doctors. An old furniture van was used to move the boat to Fauvic Beach, and, as there was no horse available, the boys pulled the van themselves past unsuspecting Germans. They left Fauvic Beach on the evening of 22 February, and arrived in France next day. The firing of a gun at a prearranged time from the mainland informed L'Amy they had arrived safely.

  William Symes, cousin of James Symes the agent captured in October 1940, owned the Dive in Fountain Street, St Peter Port, a waterfront pub frequented by fishermen and Frenchmen forced to work on the Island. Symes smuggled out information which reached the Maquis and MI9 operatives in France and Spain. But he was caught, and taken to Cherche Midi prison in Paris for interrogation. He was sentenced to imprisonment going first to Compiegne, and then to Romainville from which, after travelling four days naked with about a hundred other prisoners in cattle trucks, he arrived at Buchenwald where he found Stanley Green.

  The consequences of being involved in military matters were sharply revealed in the case of a young boy, James Houillebecq of Jersey, who went around picking up weapons and soon had quite a store of them. Others boys were involved, but his parents managed to destroy a list of their names when their house was raided. Houillebecq died later in Neuengamme concentration camp a few weeks before his eighteenth birthday.

  In the autumn of 1944 it became vital to get information to London about food shortages. Even though the Germans had said they would notify Switzerland, the protecting power, nothing had happened, and permission had not been granted yet for the bailiffs to approach the Red Cross directly. For once the names of Island officials appear in the ranks of resisters when it was decided to get vital information from Guernsey to London in November. Frederick Noyon, a widower and retired sea-captain, agreed to make the attempt from St Sampson's. His nephew Steven wanted to go with him, but Fred would only take Bill Enticott because he feared reprisals against Steve's parents. Sir Abraham Laine agreed to provide the information through an intermediary, Deputy C.H. Cross, and on the night of 2 November Noyon collected the material from Cross' house.

  Friday 3 November dawned. German artillery practice meant that fishing was not permitted that day, so Noyon went to the harbour police to get a permit saying he was going to drop a net in the next bay, and then sail on to St Peter Port for engine repairs. At one o'clock they set off from St Sampson's, jettisoned an old net in the next bay in case they were being watched from shore, and carried on towards L'Ancresse. At 4.30, mizzle came up. In the mist and gathering dark, the boat altered course for the Channel, and hoisted sail. The aim was to make for Poole in Dorset, but 30 miles north of Guernsey they were intercepted by an American ship which took them back to Cherbourg where their papers were examined. Nine days later they arrived in Britain, and delivered their papers at the war office. For once the government allowed a coded message to be sent SOE fashion to Guernsey. It said 'Personal message to George. The answer is Yes'. As far as is known it was the only such message sent in connection with espionage.

  Part of any successful occupation policy was to deny information to the occupied likely to encourage resistance by censorship of various kinds. The libraries were purged. The newspapers were censored. The Guernsey Evening Press proprietor was a co-operative supporter of the Germans, and made no effort to circumvent the operations of successive censors, Kurt Goettmann and Horst Schmidt-Walkoff, although on Jersey, Arthur Harrison of the Jersey Evening Post proved more difficult to control. As early as July 1940 in Jersey the Deutsche Inselzeitung was produced for the troops, and the editor told Leslie Sinel that it was the first German paper issued in Britain 'for the time being'. In July 1942, it was joined by the Deutsche Guernsey Zeitung copies of which reached Sark next month. 'An awful German pictorial on a par with our Picture Post is on sale at all the shops showing the British defeats,' said Julia Tremayne and quoted some headlines like 'Britain facing Hunger', and 'Second Front would be Churchill's wildest gamble'. The German news, she wrote in February 1944, was always appalling, and it seemed the local newspaper might stop altogether through lack of paper leaving them with only the German version of events. Any genuine news from the mainland was heartening to Islanders, as Mrs Tremayne wrote in July 1943: 'We all feel a bit more hopeful this week, scraps of news come through saying we are doing well, although this German rag is full of boasts and brag.'

  Mrs Tremayne referred to the paper as 'Haw-Haw' headlines. She recognized it for what it was, but it must have been hard to resist the official story deprived as Islanders were of any accurate information from Britain. Those who resisted by breaking the German news monopoly were doing valuabl
e morale-boosting, and for that reason the Germans were particularly severe on those involved in clandestine information circulation from the BBC broadcasts in printed bulletins.

  The first temporary ban on wirelesses as a result of the Nicolle-Symes Mission was described by Mrs Tremayne as 'a day of mourning'. The order was issued in October, and confirmed in November 1940, although they were allowed their wirelesses again in time for Christmas. In December she recorded, 'Great joy, we have the wireless back', and at her last normal Christmas for five years, she heard the King's speech and drank his health in port wine.

  This temporary ban was followed by the complete confiscation of all wirelesses in June 1942. In fact, confiscation did not prove quite so sweeping. The Irish were permitted to keep their sets. German officials kept theirs, and Frederick Cook was able to listen to Knackfuss' in his kitchen at Linden Court. On Alderney, Clifford Bichard, the foreman, was able to listen to one kept by his German room-mates. Members of the Island governments were allowed to keep sets in secret - von Aufsess listened to Ralph Mollet's regularly, and he expressed alarm, it will be recalled, when the Labour representative, Le Quesne, was arrested for having a set. On Sark, Sibyl Hathaway described how: 'We hid our set in a trunk left behind by one of our friends ... and went to the length of packing it in an old moth-eaten carpet to which we added moths from time to time. We only dared to listen to the 9 p.m. news, and there were four of us, Bob, our farm bailiff, Bishop, his wife Jenny and myself.' Elsewhere it is claimed this secret set was kept in a chicken run. What Hathaway did not mention was that the German doctor left his own portable set for her to listen to during his visits.

  The order was a violation of the Hague Convention because, although the Germans cited Article 53 as covering their action, this clause made it clear it was transmitters not receivers that were illegal. Julia Tremayne's set had broken down, but she had listened to neighbours, and when all wirelesses were taken away 'we hear no news, except German news, so just try to imagine our thoughts about you all'. She believed the sets would never be returned. 'There is not one in the Islands now and you may be sure the Germans will only give us 'Haw-Haw' stuff. The rumours are alarming, and if we believe them we should be in the depths of despair. Before long she said she felt 'more resigned than ever to our prison life', and this was the Germans' purpose.