at best, a gross exaggeration. I think this is because we have a view of Germany, as I said before, as a nation of courteous and civilised people, lovers of fine art and music and opera, and fiercely proud of their country. But I know now these tales of what Hitler’s troops are doing to the Jews are true and it appears that it’s not only Jews he is targeting.’
‘What do you mean?’
Clive didn’t answer his mother straight away and when he did it was to speak of the Games. ‘We were there for the opening ceremony and we tried to ignore the sense of unease we felt. It was as if the Germans were saying, “Look what we can do. See how efficient we are.” Colin, who studied German, said the papers were full of the Master Race, those with blond hair, blue eyes and fair skin who will one day dominate the world.’
‘Yes,’ Charles said. ‘It always struck me as odd that the man spouting all this rubbish that the German people seemed to fall for hook, line and sinker was himself a black-haired, brown-eyed Austrian. And not a big man, either.’
‘That’s what makes it all the more ridiculous,’ Clive agreed. ‘Anyway, when the bell began to toll to signify the start of the Games the crowd erupted in cheers. It was hard not to get caught up in the atmosphere of being there at the Olympic Games. Forty-nine countries were taking part and the unease returned a little at the raising of each country’s flag. There was Germany’s black swastika on a red background, fluttering in the breeze, looking so menacing. Then there was the parade of the athletes. Germany’s team was led by this chap called Lutz Lang, who is the epitome of this ‘Master Race’, with his blond hair, blue eyes, height and build.’
‘I read about him,’ Charles said. ‘Wasn’t he beaten by an American in the long jump?’
Clive nodded. ‘By a black American, that’s the point. He was an African-American. Altogether they had ten in the Olympic team and this one, Jesse Owens, broke eleven Olympic records. The long jump was close, really close, and it seemed like everyone in the whole stadium was holding their breath. From where we were sitting we could see the podium where Hitler was and he went puce with temper when it was obvious that Owens had won, though I have to say that Lutz Lang was the first to congratulate him. And then Hitler refused to put the medal around his neck.’
‘Can he do that?’ Amelia asked, intrigued.
Clive shrugged. ‘I don’t know whether he can or not, Mother. To my knowledge it has never been done before, but Hitler is a law unto himself. In his twisted mind he thought Owens racially inferior and he even refused to shake hands with him. Afterwards he said that America should be ashamed to let Negroes win their medals for them, and that he would not be photographed shaking hands with one of them.’
‘Goodness …’
‘That is the type of man he is and it is what I meant when I said that Jews are not the only ones he has no time for. But many of them too are suffering. A couple of days after the Games began we met this Jewish man. When he first saw us he quickly moved away, but the following day he sought us out in the street and asked in really good English if we were from Britain. When we said we were, he drew us into the partial shelter of an alleyway where he said things were happening in Germany that had to be brought to the eyes of the world and yet he knew that he was risking his life even talking to us.
‘He had been a university professor before the Nazis came to power in Germany and threw him out of his post and out of his house. His son opposed the government and their agents shot him dead, and now he and his wife live on the streets of Berlin, for it is death to any who offer them shelter. They live as fugitives, trying to dodge Nazi soldiers, who, he said, would kill them if they were caught.
‘He claimed no Jew can hold any post of responsibility, work in any business or live in any house the Nazis deem unsuitable, and their children cannot attend school. They are thrown on to the streets and their houses given to Nazi supporters and their businesses are often destroyed. And there are a great many other things Jews cannot do and places Jews cannot go. We saw no signs to this effect, but our informant said Hitler ordered all the signs removed so those visitors from other countries would not know how bad it was.’
‘If all that is true,’ Amelia said, ‘then it is truly dreadful.’
‘It’s true, Mother,’ Clive said. ‘I would stake my life on it. And Franco in Spain is another fascist, isn’t he, Dad?’
Charles nodded. ‘He is, and the news from Spain is not good. The rebels appear to be making for Madrid.’
‘Yes, I read about that in one of the English papers on the boat we came back on,’ Clive said.
‘But what can we do?’ Amelia said plaintively. ‘Surely this is Spain’s problem?’
Clive didn’t answer his mother. Then he said, ‘The day after we had spoken to this Jewish man we went looking for him again.’
Clive was silent for so long that Charles eventually asked, ‘And did you find him?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Clive. ‘We found what was left of him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, Mother, they had beaten him to a pulp,’ Clive said, ‘and dumped him in the street as if he was a pile of rubbish. He was almost unrecognisable as a human being. He looked like a bundle of rags.’ Clive remembered the horror and revulsion he had felt when they had found the body, and, when it had dawned on the young men who it was and what had been done to him, they had all felt guilty. ‘I think he was so badly beaten because he had been seen talking to us,’ Clive said. ‘Of course, it also acted as a deterrent to anyone else tempted to do the same thing. The man’s death decided us, and we made arrangements to come home immediately.’
‘But why?’ Amelia cried.
Charles had heard the new steeliness in his son’s voice, and suddenly knew what he was going to say.
‘We could do nothing to save that wretched man, but we can listen to what he told us,’ Clive said. ‘Fascism is rising in Germany and will be in Spain, too, if Franco isn’t stopped. We met some English fellows on the way home and they told us about some International Brigade being formed to help the elected government stay in power in Spain. Ordinary people are joining up because the British government is not prepared to step in. Do you know anything about it, Father?’
‘A little,’ Charles said. ‘Apparently, there is a big contingent in Liverpool.’
‘Yes,’ Clive said. ‘And from what I understand, these chaps intend leaving for Spain in early September, so there is little time to waste. Colin, Phillip and Mathew went straight home to talk to their parents, as I am talking to you, because we all intend to be part of that brigade.’
There was a gasp of dismay from Amelia. ‘You cannot do this,’ she cried. ‘You will not. I will not risk another son. Charles, say something. You must stop him.’
Charles could see his wife’s acute distress etched on her face. He remembered how he had watched her die a little as each telegram announcing the death of one of her sons was delivered. It was having Clive, he believed, that had saved her sanity at the time. He knew it would be terribly hard for her to know that Clive, this precious and now only son, was prepared to risk his life, however good the cause. But he knew he could not deter his son from doing what he thought was right. It was what he would have done himself as a young man. He had wanted Clive to go into the army when he left school, for officer training, as he had done, but Clive had said
