I was going to have a 40s party and everything, but I figure no one would have much fun with exams on the horizon. Oh well.
For my non Channel Island buddies, the islands have the dubious fame of being the only British soil taken by the Nazis in World War II. Hitler saw them as the first step towards conquering Britain, and military high command decided not to defend them. This was actually strategic genius, because it tied up resources and soldiers which would otherwise have been used elsewhere in Europe. Hitler remained convinced that they would attempt to retake them, so our coasts are scattered with bunkers and gun emplacements, and the occasional mine is discovered on cliff paths.
The Occupation lasted for five years, and the impression people always seem keen to give is how friendly it was. Most of the lads in the German army treated the experience like being on a holiday camp, and it was easily one of the cushier posts in the war. Local resistance was very limited - it's hard to keep anything a secret in a place that small. Lots of people hid radios - sure, all the English and Jewish decendents got shipped off to Europe - sure, they turned Alderney into four concentration camps. But no one really talks about that. And I'm sure they didn't have it so bad compared to other places, which had real fighting or real blitzes. Things got less funny after D-Day, and food became increasingly scarce. A series of apartments finished last month have been named VEGA, after the Red Cross boat whose intervention probably saved lives. The official liberation came after the German surrender, and naturally the relief was enormous.
This is a pretty good overview:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Occupation_of_the_Channel_Islands
The Liberation has been a yearly thing all my life, but the Doctor Who novel Just War has resparked my interest - it's very dark, very violent and portrays the Occupation as very nasty. I've been suspicious ever since, because I live at the epicentre of all this, and it had never occured to me that having an enemy force living with you for five whole years could be intensely unpleasant. The lies we tell ourselves, the myths we choose to believe. True, Mr Parkin was trying to write an exciting book - and I'm sure the underground prison was sparked by half-firing memories of the Underground Hospital, a nasty but innocent relic of the occupation. Yet, I wonder if this tame picture of the Occupation has grown out of local denial? Certainly people still feel touchy. Friend 5 tried to do a project on collaboration during the Occupation, and got some very reticent responses on hunting about. And it rubbed off on her - ask her about jerry bags, and she has a rather intense series of opinions. So through that meaningless tie-in novel, my interest in the topic has been sparked.
Liberation Day today is mainly an excuse for a party. In the morning, they sound the air raid siren to herald a two minutes silence, followed by the all-clear. I always celebrate it in my own way, which normally amounts to listening to Glen Miller and tackling a 1940s hairstyle - which inevitably fails, because 40s glamour cannot coexist with long hair and a refusal to wear lipstick or heels. Sometimes we go out for lunch, where they serve typical Guernsey foods, like crabs, and bean jar, and gauche. particularly bean jar, which everyone pretends to like because it's traditional. I remain amazed they don't get into the swing of things and serve genuine Occupation delicacies, like potato bread, dead cat and seaweed - which is what everyone got down to in the fourth year.
Other years we'll go see what's going on in town. Never very much - everyone wanders up and down the harbourfront looking for something to do and pretending to be having a good time. There's music, and there used to be a fair. Frankly, it's an excuse for da youf to get plastered, and this had in turn lead to our chief entertainment on Liberation day: liberating the "Alcohol Free Zone" posters. I know that Friend 2 has two in her room at least...other years, me and dad celebrate the way D-Day and the Battle of Britain tend also to be celebrated, sticking a war movie on the TV in the afternoon.
Today - as I said, I was gonna throw a party. I was gonna have 40s music, and try my hand at crab and Guernsey gauche. Not bean jar. But gauche is basically "fruit cake", no one can object to that. And make people dress up as Nazis. Oh well - I've celebrated by putting on war-era music, maybe I'll watch Guns of Navarone, and I've looked up some photos of Guernsey on the web. The weird thing about Guernsey, is it really does look as great as its publicity photos - and I think I can smell sea salt.
For my non Channel Island buddies, the islands have the dubious fame of being the only British soil taken by the Nazis in World War II. Hitler saw them as the first step towards conquering Britain, and military high command decided not to defend them. This was actually strategic genius, because it tied up resources and soldiers which would otherwise have been used elsewhere in Europe. Hitler remained convinced that they would attempt to retake them, so our coasts are scattered with bunkers and gun emplacements, and the occasional mine is discovered on cliff paths.
The Occupation lasted for five years, and the impression people always seem keen to give is how friendly it was. Most of the lads in the German army treated the experience like being on a holiday camp, and it was easily one of the cushier posts in the war. Local resistance was very limited - it's hard to keep anything a secret in a place that small. Lots of people hid radios - sure, all the English and Jewish decendents got shipped off to Europe - sure, they turned Alderney into four concentration camps. But no one really talks about that. And I'm sure they didn't have it so bad compared to other places, which had real fighting or real blitzes. Things got less funny after D-Day, and food became increasingly scarce. A series of apartments finished last month have been named VEGA, after the Red Cross boat whose intervention probably saved lives. The official liberation came after the German surrender, and naturally the relief was enormous.
This is a pretty good overview:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Occupation_of_the_Channel_Islands
The Liberation has been a yearly thing all my life, but the Doctor Who novel Just War has resparked my interest - it's very dark, very violent and portrays the Occupation as very nasty. I've been suspicious ever since, because I live at the epicentre of all this, and it had never occured to me that having an enemy force living with you for five whole years could be intensely unpleasant. The lies we tell ourselves, the myths we choose to believe. True, Mr Parkin was trying to write an exciting book - and I'm sure the underground prison was sparked by half-firing memories of the Underground Hospital, a nasty but innocent relic of the occupation. Yet, I wonder if this tame picture of the Occupation has grown out of local denial? Certainly people still feel touchy. Friend 5 tried to do a project on collaboration during the Occupation, and got some very reticent responses on hunting about. And it rubbed off on her - ask her about jerry bags, and she has a rather intense series of opinions. So through that meaningless tie-in novel, my interest in the topic has been sparked.
Liberation Day today is mainly an excuse for a party. In the morning, they sound the air raid siren to herald a two minutes silence, followed by the all-clear. I always celebrate it in my own way, which normally amounts to listening to Glen Miller and tackling a 1940s hairstyle - which inevitably fails, because 40s glamour cannot coexist with long hair and a refusal to wear lipstick or heels. Sometimes we go out for lunch, where they serve typical Guernsey foods, like crabs, and bean jar, and gauche. particularly bean jar, which everyone pretends to like because it's traditional. I remain amazed they don't get into the swing of things and serve genuine Occupation delicacies, like potato bread, dead cat and seaweed - which is what everyone got down to in the fourth year.
Other years we'll go see what's going on in town. Never very much - everyone wanders up and down the harbourfront looking for something to do and pretending to be having a good time. There's music, and there used to be a fair. Frankly, it's an excuse for da youf to get plastered, and this had in turn lead to our chief entertainment on Liberation day: liberating the "Alcohol Free Zone" posters. I know that Friend 2 has two in her room at least...other years, me and dad celebrate the way D-Day and the Battle of Britain tend also to be celebrated, sticking a war movie on the TV in the afternoon.
Today - as I said, I was gonna throw a party. I was gonna have 40s music, and try my hand at crab and Guernsey gauche. Not bean jar. But gauche is basically "fruit cake", no one can object to that. And make people dress up as Nazis. Oh well - I've celebrated by putting on war-era music, maybe I'll watch Guns of Navarone, and I've looked up some photos of Guernsey on the web. The weird thing about Guernsey, is it really does look as great as its publicity photos - and I think I can smell sea salt.
Comments (8)
If I were around then I would be up for it! Let's have a Liberation Day party after the exams. Or hell, just a party. We need parties.
Following from our earlier conversation, I have eaten some mini-eggs in honour of Liberation Day. :D
Potato bread is delicious! It sells for exorbitant amounts in a deli in Hong Kong.
The winter of 1916 was called the 'Turnip Winter' in Germany, because that's all they ate, every day, for 4 months.
Comment from Mrs Newnumbertwo (aka Number one) - "gauche" is actually "gache" - shame on you Guernsey girl!
On my spelling - oops...
Ajax - hmm, didn't know that. Maybe I will attempt to hunt some down if I ever hold this mythic dinner...
Calypso - any excuse for a party, eh?
Went to see the Church Parade for the first time. The Chelsea pensioners, cadets, 201 squadron, HMS Daring, some Brits in Iraq camo fatigues and the British Legion. The Jurats and Advocates were in their robes and hats, the bailiff was in purple and the Governor turned out in full regalia. Flypast by Nimrod, then drive-past by convoy of "green machines" with Miss Guernsey sitting atop armoured car. Bought some cider and cheeze from the french market then went home and consumed same for lunch. wacthed fireworks from Pleinmont. Feel Liberated!
I'd argue that it wasn't 'potato bread' so much as 'anything we can possibly find, including wood chip bread', and nettles were a big part. the german soldiers actually paid for cats to eat near the end.. people did starve to death. Still find it strange that after doing fuck all to protect the islands, england then decided bombs were a good idea...
The official logic - that to defend/retake the islands would turn them into a battle ground and that the death toll would be appalling - is basically sound.
But that does trust the British government to be working on an honest, transparant basis. And it's likely that (rightly or wrongly) army resources were far more important elsewhere, fighting at the root of the war. Bombs? I never heard that - explain?
Miss Guernsey in an armoured car, eh? Must make for an interesting image...
Argh I can't actually find it. Vague citation- a new book's been published of a local woman's diary during the occupation. The Press published a bit and she makes some sour comments about the English suddenly deciding we were worth defending after all, and dropping shells/bombs.