each case, and while recognising that the safety of England was of paramount importance, they appealed for their cases to be reviewed and the release of those whose loyalty was not in question.
On its release in September 1940 (about the time HMT Dunera internees reached Sydney harbour), public reaction was generally sympathetic to Francois Lafitte’s book The Internment of Aliens where the author listed eminent and obvious anti-Nazi sympathisers, some already having spent periods of incarceration in German concentration camps. Doubts and criticisms of Britain’s internment policy followed. This led to the announcement by the Home Secretary that category ‘C’ refugee internees would soon be able to apply for release.
Churchill later reversed his position giving his reason as the need for more manpower stating that, ‘mistakes re: internment were partly due to haste and partly to stupidity and muddle’. By October 1940 thousands of internees were freed in Britain following the issue of the ‘White Paper on Categories Eligible for Release from Internment’; this included cases of special hardship and sixteen categories of employability; also those who had played a public part in opposing the Nazi system; finally those who could make a contribution to science, learning, literature and art. But it was too late for the internees on HMT Dunera; they were already interned in Australia while their more fortunate compatriots, who remained in Britain, were being released. No such provisions were made for them by the Australian Government. Fortuitously for some, a few internees were recalled to Britain immediately on their arrival in Sydney.
Internment in Britain On that fateful day of 12 May 1940, Lutz and his uncle were unexpectedly arrested and immediately interned. They had had no previous interview or formal classification. When the arresting officer came to take Lutz and Hans away one Sunday morning, it was quite a shock to Lutz but he remembers being surprised that the officer was so pleasant in his manner and almost apologetic. However, no explanation was given; the policeman merely said, ‘Sorry, but you’ve got to come with me’. They were both told to pack a suitcase each but told not to bring much as they would be back home in a few days.
Lutz and Hans were taken first to the arresting house (presumably at the local police station) and locked in a cell for a few hours before being taken to a clearing station for all internees arrested in that area. They waited a few more hours, watching as their numbers increased and were eventually loaded into buses. Lutz and his uncle travelled by car to Brentwood Barracks from Westcliff accompanied by a police officer where they were interned for a few more days, then travelled the few hundred miles by army transport to Huyton (near Liverpool) on 23 May 1940, where they were imprisoned until 10 July. During this time Lutz became aware that he had been classified as a ‘C’ class enemy alien (later to be reclassified as a ‘friendly enemy alien’).
One of his early diary entries states that on 1 July a contingent of internees arrived from Lingfield and Kempton Park. Franz was initially interned in Lingfield and his recollection is that Lutz was there with him. I think it most probable that he and Frank met up when the Lingfield contingent arrived at Huyton a few weeks later.
Lutz didn’t see his uncle after he left for Huyton; they were in different army transports and they don’t appear to have resumed contact during their time at Huyton. Hans eventually returned to live with his mother in Westcliff, England and it is doubtful that he ever married.
Huyton
The following is based on Lutz Eichbaum’s diary entries.
It was 23 May 1940 when we arrived at Huyton by army transport and I was immediately confronted with seething swarms of people in what appeared to be army barracks, a large field full of tents surrounded by barbed wire. We clambered out of the bus and were ordered into single file by a formidable-looking officer who informed us of our enemy alien status and read out the camp regulations. Other officers were simultaneously barking orders over the bewildering hubbub. We then queued up for blankets, a tin plate and pannikin.
I, with the other younger men under 25, were separated from the rest and herded towards a designated tent where we were each allocated a camp bed. In the process my uncle and I were separated and I was never to have the opportunity of seeing him again. I was not particularly sad to leave him but I did feel a sudden shock at being separated from the only person I knew. I was told that there were more than 3000 internees in this camp – presumably mostly German-Jewish refugees, many of them German-British citizens or residents, all of whom had been caught up in the ‘threat to the nation’ net and were now imprisoned behind barbed wire. I was quite overcome with the chaos and confusion but once I knew where I was to sleep felt a little more settled. My next concern was food. The sergeant’s quarters had been converted into a mess hut and we queued up there for a long time but there was not much on offer – a very limited choice of food and not enough of it.
I heard that there were some well known people detained in the camp, such as Professor Weissenberg, an inventor/scientist who was arrested while working as a guest lecturer at Southampton University; he was soon to be elected our camp leader. There were also a few notables: the Crown Prince Frederic of Prussia, Captain Von Rintelen, a German naval intelligence officer and Hans May, a Viennese composer and music director much renowned for his popular songs and his work with film and theatre. In fact, there was so much academic talent that a camp school was set up within a few days of our arrival, with a whole variety of subjects on offer. I was particularly interested in the English classes, as I wanted to take every opportunity to improve my spoken as well as written language skills. At that time there was a blackout on news both in and out of the camp, which meant no newspapers, also no letters could be written.
Just as things seemed to start running smoothly and I got used to a routine of sorts, beginning with roll calls at 7.30 a.m. and 9 p.m., lights out at 10.15, inspection at 10.45 a.m. and meals in between, two-thirds of the camp were transferred to the Isle of Man. Meanwhile 300 Italians had arrived, also rounded up for their perceived threat to the nation, but they left again after two weeks. For a while there were less people in the camp and the food was more plentiful and much improved. However by 1 July about 1500 people arrived from Kempton Park and Lingfield (where they had been detained at the respective racecourses further south) and sleeping and dining facilities became very crowded; I had to give up my bed to someone older and more in need of comfort than my younger, more resilient body.
During the next few days there were rumours about us being transported overseas (some people said Canada, or maybe South Africa) and on 2 July there was an announcement that 500 of us would leave for an unknown destination. I was surprised as I thought I would remain in England for the duration of the war. We were all asked to fill in forms and it was preferred if we volunteered to go but I never did – there was no real choice in the matter (anyway perhaps it wouldn’t be worse than staying at Huyton and there may even be the opportunity for freedom). An official read out our names in alphabetical order and we were placed in four lines, supposedly dividing us into various countries willing to receive us – maybe one or two lines for Canada, perhaps one line for South Africa or hopefully to the USA.
As I was perusing the other lines, listening for useful snippets of gossip and information about possible future destinations, I noticed a young man way back in the next line with a rather vague and lost look in his eyes. I hadn’t seen that look in Franz’s eyes before, but I easily recognised him as my best friend from our school-days. I knew that Franz had left Germany before me but I had no idea that he was still in England, I thought he was already in the United States of America with his parents and sister, Bella. I tried to catch his eye, waved and called out his name. Other men relayed his name down the line and he eventually acknowledged me, his expression lighting up immediately. We tried to communicate cryptically through a mime of gestures and I saw Franz pointing to someone further back in my own line. This person stepped out to one side and I saw that it was his father. I couldn’t understand why they were not in the same line. It was obvious what I must do if Franz and his father were not to be separated. By swapping places with
