The Penalties of Love Read online

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  THE PENALTIES OF LOVE

  By

  Paul Kelly

  Publisher Information

  Published in 2013 by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright © Paul Kelly 2013

  The right of Paul Kelly to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Chapter One

  Prisoners of War

  It was in February of 1919 just a few months after the war had finished and I was squatting on the beach at the north of France together with several hundred other German prisoners of war captured by the British and awaiting transport to a prisoner of war cap. The Kaiser had lost his ambitious dreams and Germany was once more regarded as an ordinary country. There was no more glory... “No more Deutschland fur imer”... and none of us were anticipating much of a life if any... when we were recruited into a war prisoner’s camp. It would well have been the end of everything for each of us and we expected something like that. There was a lot of muttering and swearing amongst the prisoners, but like most of them, their thoughts were on other serious things. Some of us prayed, if we were Christian and several rosaries could be seen by those of us who were Catholics, but I was a Jew and sat quietly just watching what went on around me.

  It was a well known fact that we Germans took little or no prisoners from a war and the firing squad was uppermost in all the minds of the men who squatted on the sands with me. We waited, half hearing the ‘schnell... schnell’ command, but we were in British command now and ‘Get up off yer arse’ was the unexpected and ‘respectful’ call, which made us all move in that instant.

  I had just turned 23 when I was dragged into the German army and had my university degree postponed where I hoped that I might return to university to complete my ambitions to become a doctor and if possible, a surgeon, but in my mind at that moment I was in deep despair and abandoned myself to whatever fate was to come. I know it may sound ridiculous to give up on life at my age, but when you are faced with what seemed inevitable... it is shivering and frightening to imagine that it was more than possible that your end had come. The waiting seemed endless until finally we could see a large ship coming towards us and then within a few seconds another ship followed. This wasn’t surprising when we realized that it would need at least two ships and maybe even three or four to cope with the number of us who stood trembling on that shore wondering where we would be deposited, but after some little time, I was pushed and shoved into a ship’s hold with not a thought as to where we might land and with several of my fellow prisoners even thinking that the ships would be sunk at sea and we would all be embraced in a watery grave .The day became darker as we sailed away and some of the men started to sing the German national anthem before someone shouted out for us to keep quiet, but then the men started talking amongst themselves about either the wives they had left behind or the sweethearts that they hoped would still be waiting for them when and IF they returned, but as expected when men are gathered together for whatever reason, there is always someone who rules the roost and hopes when he returns home to Germany that his wife of fifteen years had either gone off with some other fellow or that she had committed suicide... When the suicide was mentioned there were quite a few men who shouted ‘encore’ and laughter broke out in the stinking room.

  We never knew how long we had been squatted together; standing there in the lower deck of that ship, as there was no place to sit down and all shouting their different grievences... but after about what we imagined to be about two or three hours, where the stench of stale urine and other pungent smells made us hold our noses, a strong voice with a foreign accent screamed down at us.. “YOO there noo... yoo bastards... up these bleedin’ stairs an’ dinna make any trouble or you’ll have yer airses well kicked.” I was lost for words, even as I had studied English to some degree at university where many of my fellow students were strangers to Germany, but I could understand the gist of what was required of us and one of the men who stood beside me, translated the verbal command as Scottish and we gathered we must have settled in Scotland.

  It took us only ten minutes to get out of that ship’s hold as the stench was unbearable and what seemed to be an army sergeant marched us off in pairs to what was to become our new home for the foreseeable future. The joy we all shared was that the firing squad was nowhere to be seen.

  The nearest town was Inverness and as it was nearly six o’clock in the evening it was quieter than I imagined it would have been if we had arrived earlier on that day, however, I think we were all rather tired and grateful for the busty Sergeant to guide us into the Home. There was considerable peace as we settled down for the night in the sparse little beds that were allocated to each, with a ‘potty’ underneath, to save us walking several yards to find the toilets. I started to think in that time about my own life before I was conscripted into the army. I had been studying medicine for years after I left school and with the hopes that I would get into university to make a career of my thoughts and with this anxiety in my mind, I hadn’t thought much about girlfriends. Together with this, my younger brother Eric was the handsome one of the family.

  I never had anything that one could call ‘good looks’ and even my own mother admitted that, saying I was as ugly as my father had been... What a thought to go to bed with, but my dreams of becoming a doctor one day gave me a good night’s sleep.

  In the morning, we were called very early by a rough Scottish voice who referred to us all as ‘sleepy head wankers’ and it was fortunate that I could understand the reference... as several of my university mates who were mostly English had referred to this ‘wanker’ word regularly and I felt quite adequate in my understanding of the English language and hoped the Scottish language wasn’t too very different.

  After a quick shower in very cold water and a breakfast that could well be described as ‘feeble’

  We were marched off to an assembly hall and made to stand to attention whilst we were each pulled by the arms and pushed towards a door where we knew we would have to wait for the next command before we could even move... but it came... and one by one we were ordered to strip for a medical examination. We had to cough, breathe in and breathe out and stand on our toes for five minutes and I guessed that was to check our balance. After that another door opened and one by one we were asked to sit down whilst a British Army Officer, wearing a monocle, looked us up and down as if we had fleas before he barked his order asking each one to state his rank and name and other details that seemed appropriate to him. As my turn came, I gave him the information he requested after he had verified that I could speak English, even if my knowledge of the language was minimal. I told him my name and where I had lived in Germany and he seemed pleased with what I had said and then suddenly, he leant forward in his chair and addressed me by using my Christian name, which surprised me...

  “Hans, it seems that you can understand English and I would ask you please to tell your other friends what is required of them and that is that they should be able to integrate with the people of Inverness in so far as they might help as gardeners, far
mers or even electricians or that sort. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes Sir, I understand but my English is very poor, however, I will do what I can.”

  I did what I could and even found a few others prisoners who could speak English as well and even better than I could and they helped enormously, so that many of the men were sent to farms and other places where they would be able to assist in some way, but as was to be expected, one or two of my fellow prisoners were more interested in the ‘LADIES’ of Inverness and whether they might need some ‘MALE’ help in any form or fashion... I had no knowledge of farming or any other craft, but when I returned to the officer in charge and told him that I had been at university as a medical student and he seemed pleased as he lifted the phone on his desk and I could hear him say that he had a ‘nursing orderly’ and he would send him round to the hospital that same afternoon. Needless to say there was nothing I could do but obey and at five o’clock that same afternoon, I was taken by an army police car to St. Bernard’s Hospital and marched into the Matron’s office.

  I sat in a chair before her but she didn’t look up until she spoke to ask if I could speak English and still kept her head down. I coughed and put my hand to my mouth before I replied that I had a little knowledge of the English language and she pushed a piece of paper in front of me.

  “Put your name on that paper and state how you can help in any way in this hospital.

  I need cleaners, janitors, gardeners and anything else you might be able to do.” she snapped and kept her eyes down on her desk as I stared at the paper in front of me, not knowing what I could write, so I looked up for a moment and coughed hoping she might look at me and I could explain my situation better, even if I was quite willing to assist in any way as a nursing orderly as that was what I was regarded as being in the German army, but she kept her eyes on her desk.

  “I have been a student at university hoping to become a doctor and even a surgeon if I could get that far” I said, very softly and at that point the Matron raised her head and stared into my eyes. She sniffed and wiped her nose with a handkerchief before she spoke again.

  “University, you say... You are a prisoner of war here are you not? Was this university in Germany?” she asked and I felt I was making some little progress as she pushed her chair back and stood up. I was surprised to see that she was a very tall woman; I would have said well over six foot, as she strolled over to where I was sitting and demanded that I stand up when I was being spoken to. I stood up and made an effort to apologise for whatever I had done wrong, but she ignored what I was trying to say as she ushered me out through the door and into the corridor outside.

  “You there,” she called out to a passing nurse in uniform, “Get me Sister Sutcliffe immediately,” she snapped but the nurse explained that the sister was on night duty and the Matron shook her head and demanded that this night duty sister should be brought to her office immediately. It was at this moment that I began to realize what type of Matron I would have to deal with and I felt sorry for the night duty sister who had to respond to such a difficult request, especially if she had a busy ward and would be expected to work long hours in the course of her day. I glanced at the clock in the corridor and perhaps it was fortunate as it was nearly six o’clock in the evening that the Matron had made her command, because I only waited about ten minutes before a lady wearing only a headscarf and dressing gown came rushing along the corridor to where I was sitting outside the Matron’s office. She glared at me and I could only point towards the door where the very tall lady had given her order and the lady in the dressing gown knocked before she went in. I raised my eyebrows in expectancy of what was going to happen next and within another ten minutes the Matron’s door opened and the lady with the headscarf beckoned me to follow her.

  “I am in charge of the male ward,” she said, and I don’t who you are or in what way you can help me, but Matron has told me that you are a nursing orderly and that you should start your duties NOW in my ward together with Nurses Vickery and Moore until I get dressed...

  Do I make myself clear?”

  I had to agree to whatever was suggested and followed the lady into a ward where I was met by the two other nurses in question who were as stunned as I was until they were taken aside into what seemed to be a duty room where I feel sure they were instructed regarding the Matron’s wishes, as very soon I was shown into the toilets and told to take some urine bottles around to the patients. As I was doing my round of the ‘bottles’ the night sister came back into the ward but she looked quite different this time. Her uniform was stark clean and her head had lost the scarf where in its place she had a long white veil which went down her back and over her shoulders. I stood aside with two ‘bottles’ in my hand to allow her to pass, but she ignored me and went towards one of the nurses. The other nurse gave me a strange look as the Sister passed and signalled for me to disregard her actions as she was the Ward Sister and nobody spoke out of tune with her. You should only speak if it was important to one of the patients in her ward. I learnt later when I was able to get one of the nurses into the male toilet to ask her if she could tell me the times of duty for staff in the ward and she told me the nurses had shifts and that she was on from eight o clock that morning until two in the afternoon, but as they were short of nursing staff she had to work for twenty-four hours, with short tea breaks... and we would be on the ward until eight that evening. The other nurse was the same, so I asked her what I should do but she could only shrug her shoulders and told me to see Sister Kilbride so I took a few more ‘bottles’ around until one of the ward patients asked me if I could bring him a bed pan and then I had to look to Sister Kilbride for guidance.

  “Don’t stand around,” she said, “Do as you are told and get this patient a bed pan and STAY WITH HIM UNTIL HE HAS DONE THE NECESSARY...” she snapped

  I brought the bed pan and waited until the patient had ‘done the necessary’... and then I asked Sister Kilbride if I could go back to the prisoner’s Home as it was very nearly eight o’clock that evening and again, she stared at me with wild eyes.

  “I will need you to stay with another patient as he requires one-to-one nursing attention and then I will tell you when to go.” she snapped. Why are you in such a hurry anyway?” I lowered my head and accepted her command, but I thought of the nurses I had known in Germany and how different they were to this ‘bossy boots’ who was standing near me then, but I could see one of the nurses making signs for me to go to the bed of the patient who needed one-to-one attention.

  “I had to do this,” she said, “but I will be going off duty soon and this man has a possible brain tumour and has to be carefully watched all through the night... but don’t worry. We have other nurses coming on at eight for night duty and one of them will be expected to do this.”...

  I was about to thank her when she whispered something in my ear. “Don’t pay too much attention to Sister Kilbride. She hates Germans... ”

  That was all I needed to hear and I sat by the bed of the patient who needed my care and wondered why Sister Kilbride had so much hatred for a race that she had never known... or DID SHE... Was she married to a German or had some German dumped her, I thought and I wouldn’t have been surprised if some decent German had found Sister Kilbride’s action too much to accept. Later that evening when I got back to the prisoner’s home, I was surprised to see some of the old faces I had known when we were in the unforgettable trenches as they seemed to be a different lot to what I had seen earlier. We hugged and laughed before they sat me down with a mug full of soup and a role, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I think they thought that as I was working in a hospital, I would be able to introduce them to some of the nurses.

  One man even produced a bottle of brandy which had been in the kitchen of a farmer who had employed our man in his potato field. Was this a ‘THANK YOU’ for the work my friend had done or was it a self appreciation? ? ? Nobody ask
ed but laughter was obvious before we went to bed that evening... where I could hear some of the men joking about the women they had met in their working travels and how they were sure that many of the women were as eager to get into bed as they were...

  When I returned to St. Bernard’s for my duties the next morning, I was met with two giggling nurses who welcomed me into the duty room and introduced themselves with their Christian names. Jenny Vickery and Hannah Moore. I knew by this introduction that I was being welcomed into the ‘fold’ but what surprised me more was the fact that the night Sister had not left the hospital yet after her dutiful night’s work, but that she had been asked to go to the Matron’s office before she went home.

  I looked for the patient I had looked after by sitting by his bed all that evening before, but Hannah Moore looked at me sorrowfully as she told me that the patient had died earlier that morning about three o’clock.

  As we were commiserating our loss in the ward, the Matron’s door opened and Sister Kilbride appeared and we all stood aside in respect of whatever news she had and which we hoped she would share, but as expected, SHE DID NOT... instead she rushed crying from the hospital and we looked at each other sadly as we knew that whatever had been discussed in the Matron’s office, was nothing to be happy about. Nurses Vickery, Moore and I went about our work in the ward in silence until the tea break was announced and Jenny Vickery poured out her hatred of Sister Kilbride much to the disgust of Hannah Moore and myself as we both thought and knew that Sister Kilbride was a very dutiful and attentive nurse, but Jenny Vickery felt that she had been overlooked by the hospital staff and that SHE should have been chosen as a Nursing Sister, and not left on for years as a simple staff nurse. As we finished our tea break, the Matron called me into her office.

  “Sit down there... whatever your name is... I have forgotten,” she barked and I reminded her that I was a German prisoner of war and that my name was ‘Hans Knust’ as I repeated once more the details of my Regiment but she waved her arms in the air.