Chapter 13 - Entry to a New World
There is no doubt that everyone in the world was waiting, listening, wondering, all through every hour of those first days in May, 1945.
And when someone asked me whether I wasn't wishing myself back in my own country at that moment, I found myself saying ' No.' And I meant it. I felt myself far closer to the deep, soul-stirring events there in that part of France, than if I had been in England, and was so proud to share with our French Scouts and Guides, the breath-taking experience of the last days of the war, which was theirs as much as ours.
On May 6th, I went with the Protestant Scouts and Guides to their ' Scouts Own ' in St. Thomas' Church in Strasbourg, and then the French Commandant had arranged, as a very special concession, that I should go across the Rhine.
Over the half rebuilt ' Pont de Kehl ' we went, sentries at the salute for the official car, and as I stepped out on to German soil, a band of French soldiers played ' God Save the King,' the flags of the Allies flying over their heads, and German prisoners standing bareheaded and stiffly to attention.
It was a most moving moment.
That evening I visited one of the most unique Guide ' Dens ' which would have delighted you as much as it did me. It was just a tiny room, about twenty feet square, in the tippiest, top-piest space, in the tower of St. Paul's Church. You start to climb to it from the organ loft, and then up a dark, narrow, winding stair holding a candle in one hand and clutching a long rope with the other, and up the 92 steps you arrive eventually in this delightful Guide home.
It has the most stunning view, away on the one hand to the Vosges, and across the Rhine to the Black Forest.
It is given over to the Guides, but also the bell-ringers have to come there to pull the bell. I couldn't resist it, and just had to
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pull that bell rope, and so enjoyed making a 'clanging, jangling, banging' bell noise.
Towards the latter part of the time of the Occupation, the Guides had been asked to help to collect food and whatever they could for invalid soldiers and prisoners who were drifting back across the frontier; and over 60,000 packets were sent in and distributed.
Next day I continued the tour, going through the most beautiful country of the Rhine valley, looking its loveliest in the May sunshine. Passing through Selestat, I found a nice little group of Guides and Scouts waiting to greet me en route, and found that from this one tiny village, they had sent ten Scouts to the big Scout Jamboree in England in 1929, and also twelve had gone to the last World Scout Jamboree in Holland in 1937. They were very proud of this record, and prouder still of the flag that had accompanied their members on those great occasions and which had been safely buried during the occupation. It was flying high on a flagstaff there that moming in honour of my visit.
This drive was the strangest mixture of beauty and horror—quite divine beauty of distant mountains and forest, wide plains at the river 's edge, and rolling vineyards up the hillsides; and then, every few miles, we would pass through the stark, staring grim tragedy of ruined villages. Zellenberg and Riquewihr had escaped the worst—beautiful picturesque old hill villages lying on our route, followed by Mittalwehr with not one house left standing, and Ostheim which was completely ruined too.
Here a passing American Jeep pulled up, and out of it hopped a French soldier who had been a Scout and had seen me once in Marseilles ten years before and thought he would like to shake me by the hand now!
The main sign of life in these battered bits of villages was the storks, their nests still standing on ruined bits of walls and even on half a Church Tower. War has passed them by, and still they continue their ordinary life, migrating South when the time comes. I had not heard before quite so much about the preparation these !locks make for their long flight, but I was told that for days before they start, they gather together in solemn conclave, apparently discussing the route, and also to decide who shall go. The flock will need to fly quickly and cannot tolerate being held back by laggards, and so if there are some- unfit or too frail and too old to stand the joumey, they are weeded out and killed by the others.
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All through May 7th, moving along, carrying out various engagements of small Rallies with Scouts and Guides, and meals, with newly-found friends, the hours were filled with stirring expectancy.
At Colmar rumour ran riot, and in the middle of the Guide inspection in the garden of the ' Prefecture,' we were told to stand by for an announcement, and without any ado we, all hurried off to group ourselves round an emergency loud speaker. Only vague, muffled noises emerged from it, and to pass the time Scouts and Guides and Rovers and Wolf Cubs in tum started to sing and to play distracting games, or to do some dancing to occupy attention and relieve the tension of waiting and listening for news that didn't come.
A voice then announced that ' it ' would not be yet, and so we all dispersed to mingle with the throng of people surging through the streets of that old-world country town.
It was hot and still when I went to bed, and I leant out of the window to find the scent of lilac heavy on the night air, sounds of singing and revelry still continuing in the distant town; no breath of wind anywhere, the dark night lit by fireworks and stars, and hanging over it all, a sense of immeasurable relief—at last—at last . . .
The next day Peace came, and I found myself amongst the Guides and Scouts of Mulhouse, with a hurriedly planned programme to be got through, because it had been carefully arranged beforehand, and peace or no peace it had to be done and done quickly, so that we could all muster in the Town Square to hear General de Gaulle announce the news.
From the Rally in the shaded park this brave little band of Scouts and Guides marched down the winding hill to the ' Place ' in front of the ' Marie,' facing the Church.
A crowd had collected there, to listen to the voice of their great leader who stood so firm and whose name will live for ever in France's history, a quiet crowd of subdued people who had suffered so much that, even though the fighting days were over, they could not yet feel free to rejoice, especially when half their friends were still bowed by anxiety and grief.
General de Gaulle's speech ' came over ' relayed from Paris, rather hurriedly spoken, with no flowery phrases just the bare statement that hostilities had ceased and the armistice itself was signed.
The confused noise of the sirens of Paris sounded next, and the
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'All Clear ' was taken up by the local hooters and sirens, all over that little Alsatian town.
Then the church bells pealed; we hardly dared look at one another, and the old white-haired Maire sat staring at the ground. ground.
That mental picture I shall never lose.. Ringing bells, quiet darkness inside the panelled room, people going through great emotion ; and looking out of the window on to the sun-filled 'Place' — waving flags, moving Scouts and Guides, heads up, hands waving, laughter and vigour and hopefulness—a new France—a new world.
It was wonderful to share this great moment with my French friends in France, to whom I felt so close—so tremendously close.
In 1914, at the outbreak of the last war, King George V said to the British people : If I had delivered France to destruction at the hands of her enemies, I would have inflicted an incurable wound on civilisation.'
Will you ponder these words, and never forget, never let us lose, that sense of responsibility for friendship with France, that has been made in wars and must endure in the peace that is to be built by us all.
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