Munich, 1939

I left England on Tuesday August 15 1939 to travel to a mountain village near Munich to stay with Erika, a German friend I met in 1934. Erika lived in Irschenhausen, where DH Lawrence had stayed with his wife before World War 1, in a small wooden house rather like a Swiss chalet. I met her many friends and we talked about life in general but very little about politics.
After about a week I decided to go to Munich to visit some museums and to walk through the city's beautiful streets. On Wednesday August 23rd I took a bus in at 11am. It took less than hour to reach Munich. I noticed at once that there was an atmosphere of great excitement, so I went over to a newspaper kiosk and bought a paper. 'Non Aggression Pact Signed Between the Fuhrer and Stalin'said the headline. Ever since Hitler had come to power he had insisted that Germany had one great enemy: Communist Russia. There could be no friendship between them, he'd insisted. Now here he was saying exactly the opposite. No wonder everyone was staggered.
I decided to go to the British Consulate for advice before going to any museums. I explained that I was on holiday to a kind and helpful official and that I wanted to leave my German address with him,just in case.
When I got back to Erika's, she too had heard about the Pact but she felt there was no need for alarm. All was well, she assured me, and I believed her. We spent the rest of the day in Erika's garden.
The next day I went shopping in the village and some of the villagers told me they were pleased I was still staying with my friend and hadn't been so frightened by the news that I'd decided to return to England.
That night the phone rang twice. The first call was from my mother in Wales. It simply said, 'Come home'. The next was from a friend in Switzerland telling me he was going home and warning me to do likewise. The postal official who conveyed the messages had obviously not heard the word Likewise before and he pronounced it in a very odd way.
So the next day I decided to pack my bags. But I told Erika I was sure I would come back. War was not coming. I had been in Vienna in 1938 when Hitler annexed Austria, and no war had come then. I had been in Czechoslovakia in May 1938 when the country had endured partial mobilisation and though they were expecting war, nothing had happened. Indeed after a meeting with Hitler, Chamberlain had flown back to England to tell us that we had, once again, peace in our time. However I felt I could not risk staying on with Erika any longer.
When I told the taxi man why I was going home -'Because of war' - he almost swerved off the road in amazement. 'Never, never,' he exclaimed. 'I am a Catholic and I've never believed a word the Fuhrer has said to us, except when he's said he'll never lead us to war.'
The taxi dropped me off at an inn, where I had to wait for the bus to Munich. I invited the taxi driver to have a glass of beer while I had a coffee. We settled in the garden together. Then I saw a motorcyclist talking to the landlord. It turned out he was carrying a message for me from the British Embassy. It read: 'You are strongly advised to return to England at once.'
Munich station was crowded with travellers, all, like me, leaving Germany. At about 9.30pm the train reached Frankfurt am Main. On a sudden impulse I asked the young Englishman sitting next to me, 'Would you help me get my suitcase down from the rack, please. I think I'll spend the night here.' He was amazed and looked at me as though I'd taken leave of my senses.
I stayed the night at a hotel I knew near the station in Frankfurt. The next day I got up in good time to catch the 10am train to Aachen and the Belgian coast. At breakfast, as I drank my coffee, I read the paper. The headline said: 'The Fuhrer cancels the Nurenberg Rally.' This to me was final proof of war - Hitler had never done this before. No previous crisis had interfered with the Nazi parades and adulatory speeches.
I caught my train - there was now no turning back - but before I got on, the handle of my suitcase broke. I decided to register the case at the station office and get it sent on separately to London. At Aachen we were told to leave the train and have our passports and visas examined. I noticed no glee or triumphant feeling among the guards. They were polite and efficient, no more, no less.
The remainder of the journey was uneventful and on Monday August 28th I arrived in London to stay with my two aunts. But when I went down to Victoria station on 31 August my suitcase had not arrived. It still hadn't done so by 2nd September, so I left for Wales, and my anxious mother could hardly believe her eyes when I arrived at our own front door.
Next day, September 3rd, Mr Chamberlain announced that Britain was at war with Germany as Germany had now invaded Poland and refused to withdraw its troops. So it had started. Life went on as before as we waited for the worst to happen. What would Hitler do next? Would Germany invade Britain? Or France? Or the Netherlands? He left us guessing. For months he appeared to do nothing.
Just before Christmas 1939 a GWR van drew up at our door. 'Got a case for you, lady,' said the driver. There it was, safe and sound, locked and neatly labelled, just as I'd left it. But little did I imagine that December 1939 was the last time that I or my case were to see Germany until 1945.

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