Four-wheeled treasures – kept from German eyes

  • Interview with Leo Harris, a keen collector of information on cars from the period
  • He is also the author of two books – A Boy Remembers and Boys Remember More – set during the Occupation

FOR many Islanders, the risks associated with concealing the smallest of ‘goods’ from occupying forces during the Second World War would have been too much to handle.

While there were indeed a significant number who had no option but to follow the rule book line by line between 1940 and 1945, stories have long been told of the courage and trickery shown by those under Nazi control as they sought to maintain a sliver of normality.

John Harris, Leo's father

But for most people, the forbidden items stashed away were not the size of a car.

As the 70th anniversary of Liberation Day approaches, 84-year-old Leo Harris has spoken of his father’s ‘natural instinct’ to hide the family’s prized possessions from the clutches of the German forces.

Having moved to the Island to escape the early-war bombings of his Edinburgh home in 1939, Mr Harris, then aged nine, was forced to endure the German regime after the mailboat his family were due to return to the mainland on set sail without them in 1940 – loaded with their Rover and personal effects.

Mr Harris said: ‘My father John decided that since he had the Marina Hotel at Havre des Pas and we had come down for holidays in 1936 to 1938, that we would come back in 1939, and he rented a house in St Saviour’s Road.

‘But by 1940 things had begun to get a little bit hot, so we decided to go back to Edinburgh.

‘We loaded our luggage into the car and it was put on the mailboat the night before we were due to set sail.

‘Then, as we were about the leave, a chap knocked on the door and said the Marina Hotel had been abandoned by the manager.

‘My dad went off to the hotel but didn’t come back until late afternoon, and the mailboat had sailed. There was no way after that of getting out of the Island, so we moved into the hotel.’

‘The car went to Southampton and stood on the docks for a long time.

‘Eventually they decided to sell it at auction, and it went for £6 – loaded with all our contents.

Leo Harris at Batterie Lothringen, Noirmont

‘When the Germans arrived they immediately stopped all driving.

‘The States of Jersey agreed with the Germans that they could take any British cars owned by people. If you had a car a German would arrive on a horse, write a docket and hand it over for you to give to the States, then he would put a rope on it and take it away.

‘The older ones like Essex Super Sixes and old Citroens from the 1920s were taken to Springfield and crushed before being put onto cargo ships, while the good cars were shipped off as they were. Some of those cars were later found in Granville when the Americans and British arrived in 1944 – they hadn’t managed to get them away.’

But as Mr Harris explained, some Islanders were able to fool the Germans and keep hold of their ‘faulty’ vehicles.

‘A good friend of my father’s was Ken Richardson, who owned a farm in St Martin. He had a lovely newish Bedford lorry and he did not want to part with it.

‘My dad knew a blacksmith in St Mary, so they went and got him to get underneath the lorry and do a ring of ragged welding around the back axle. Then they threw water on it to rust it and put plenty of axle grease on it to disguise it.

The 1936 Standard 16, next to a Citroen Light 15 like the one which was accidentally crushed at Springfield. WH signifies that the car is under German control

‘Ken went down to Springfield, showed the officer the underneath of the car, and he said “Nein, nein!” – they didn’t want a lorry with a cracked axle! They could be fooled at times, but not too often.’

Not too often indeed, but John Harris appeared to have a knack for getting one over the invading forces.

Described as ‘a motoring family’ by Leo, the Harrises hid their 1935 Rover 14 in

the grounds of the Marina Hotel behind a stack of timber. But when father John heard that the Germans were in need of such

a commodity (and would happily help themselves), an alternative hide-out was found.

‘The hiding of cars was my father’s natural instinct,’ Mr Harris said. ‘He bought a 1938 Vauxhall 16, and Ken wanted one, so he cleared a space in his barn for that and piled hay all around it, all neatly stacked with the car inside.

‘But dad noticed that there was a space alongside it. So on Christmas Eve 1943 we had the Rover prepared with all the bulbs out except one headlight on the left, and dad tied a heavy piece of black cloth over the headlight and cut a small hole at the front.

‘It was 9 pm, after curfew, and we pushed the car out onto the road and, being good citizens, drove off on the right-hand-side.

‘When we got to Victoria College there was a patrol of seven German soldiers.

‘As soon as the officer saw the car you could see him ducking his head, and at that very moment the cloth slipped off the headlight and we had the most beautiful display of light all over these men.

‘Dad snapped off the light as fast as he could, and to his surprise there was a shout before everyone saluted as we drove past, so dad gave him a cheeky hoot on the horn.

‘He thought this car was an officer’s car from the College coming up for Christmas festivities and the flash of light was deliberate to say “Merry Christmas men”!

‘Also when the cloth fell back it stood flapping in the wind on the left mud guard, and very often they had a pin with a unit flag flying on the left.

‘Ken had the place all ready to put the car alongside his, and by the following morning it was all stacked up with hay.’

The Marina Hotel at Havre des Pas

Mr Harris also described how a German officer had his Citroen Light 15 ‘accidentally’ crushed at the Springfield scrapyard.

‘This particular chap had business to do at Springfield and he parked alongside all these nicely parked cars that were lined up to be crushed by this French Renault tank with the turret removed.

‘The metal was to be shipped back to Germany to aid the war effort. So when he came back, he found the car standing 18 inches high!

‘He was not a happy bunny. I was told afterwards that this story is absolutely true, and two Jerseymen working there got iron bars to open it up so the officer could recover his briefcase and gold cigarette case.’

The Rover 14 may well have been safely housed in St Martin, but John Harris had another hoard in a secret store at the Esplanade.

‘No fewer than 12 of his own cars were shut away from German eyes, including a Wolseley Hornet, a Citroen 12, a Ford 8, an Essex Terraplane and Studebakers.

‘For some reason, the Germans never went in,’ Mr Harris said. ‘Dad just left them all there well packed in, and I used to go along with a key when I was about 13 to sit in them and pretend I was driving. I shouldn’t have gone there, someone could easily have watched me going in – my father would have been furious if he had known!’

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