All Lietz schools remained in private ownership right through the war, despite every effort by National-Socialist bodies to find a reason to have them nationalised. It was well-known that a liberal spirit existed and was fostered in the schools and, also, that pupils came from families who would not have been bracketed as loyal Party followers. At the same time, it appeared that the authorities were reluctant to take any action unless they could accuse the schools of unpatriotic practices or behaviour. This was a pleasure that every staff member and every pupil was determined to deny them.
The main credit for balking the authorities must go to Dr Alfred Andreesen, the director of the Lietz schools, who parried all attempts at cajoling him into giving up the schools’ independence. In order to find a chink in Dr Andreesen’s armour, each Lietz school was visited a couple of times a year by a group of six to eight National-Socialist inspectors, who spent a full day at a time attending all school activities. What happened was worthy of a comedy from the Ealing Film Studios. We invariably got a tip-off that the inspectors would be calling and everybody helped to spruce up the school. When the big day arrived, we all turned out spotless – heels were clicked and “Heil Hitlers” resounded. Our voices suddenly lost their gentility and our answers in class were shouted out as if every teacher was stone deaf. It is hard to imagine anybody being so stupid as not to have seen through our act, but we could not be criticised for lack of discipline or for appearing to be perfect. And so, we were left in peace to resume our normal lifestyle until the next visit when the whole charade would start all over again.
In Haubinda we did not get much news of the outside world. Special speeches by Hitler were listened to communally, and Wehrmacht (Armed Forces) reports were read out in the assembly room. One or two national newspapers were displayed in our reading room, but not on a regular basis. I got the impression that all this was part of an act of putting up a pretence of political loyalty should questions be asked of any of us when we were away from school. Nobody paid much attention to the papers, but the army reports did interest us a lot.
Outstanding German military victories were heard communally over the radio in the assembly room. They were always ushered in by the rousing main theme from Franz Liszt’s symphonic poem, Les Preludes, which was aimed to strike an emotional chord. Despite my aversion to military conflict, I could not but feel a sense of pride at being German at a moment like that.
Notwithstanding my dislike of Hitler, I did not altogether condemn Germany for having gone to war. I felt very strongly that the injustice of the Versailles treaty in 1919 had created the conditions under which “a Hitler” would come to power. I think I hoped that the demonstration of a strong nation would put it in a position in which a peace treaty could be negotiated which rectified some of the wrongs done to Germany.
Anybody in Haubinda who had a wireless was allowed to use it in his bedroom. I had a little “cats-whisker” crystal set which I had bought second-hand from a boy in my class. It could receive only one station, the Deutschland Sender, but reception was quite good and I sometimes listened to classical and middle-brow concerts.
Although I was able to attend church services during my holidays, the situation in Haubinda was different. It was the policy of Hermann Lietz that each school director gave an address with a religious theme during assembly on every Sunday morning. In this way members of all denominations were brought together and religious barriers were bridged. We were nearly all Protestants in Haubinda and when the time came to attend confirmation classes, a clergyman visited the school regularly to give us religious instruction. Special arrangements were made for us to travel to a church for the actual confirmation ceremony.
I thought the entertainment industry was very good during the war and I enjoyed going to the cinema in my school holidays. Although many Jews and liberals had left the country and films were often produced for propaganda purposes, some very prominent producers and actors remained. Among the best-known were Emil Jannings, Werner Kraus, Gustav Gründgens, and Lil Dagover.
The war dragged on and the chance of an early end became more remote than ever. Luckily, the rural location of the Lietz schools gave us immunity from the air-raids which were being increasingly launched on German cities. I never so much as heard a plane cross overhead. It was only during holidays in Döllnitz that I sometimes experienced air-raid alarms. The nearby Buna/Leuna chemical works attracted allied bomber attacks at night-time, but the massive vaulted cellars of the Goedecke’s house provided us with complete protection.
I must admit that, despite the war, I continued to have wonderful holidays. I had a great rapport with my Aunt Hella in Karlsbad and we were always engaged in a whirl of activity. Going to the opera in the evening, or to concerts, was a cultural delight. In those days people still dressed up to go out. The ladies wore long evening gowns, and furs abounded, while the men put on evening dress. Bowling along to the opera house in the customary Fiaker, and walking up the double sweep of the magnificent marble staircase, has left me with the memory of an era which will never come back.
A number of my short holidays were spent with the Soukals in Mücheln. I recollect an interesting event concerning captured British soldiers who had accepted the option of working in the sugar factory rather than spending their time idly in a prisoner-of-war camp. When one of them died from an incurable illness, all German senior factory staff walked with the funeral cortege headed by the factory manager, Herr Rieper, who wore a silk top hat. I was much impressed by this show of respect for a prisoner-of-war who was also just one of hundreds of workers in the factory. When Herr Rieper died a few years later, the soldiers returned the honour by lining up at his funeral.
In 1942, our school orchestra began to give public performances in nearby towns. We usually played incidental music at small civic occasions in town halls or community centres. I liked going on these outings even though it was quite tiring. We were collected by horse and trap or, very often, with farm wagons and sometimes had to travel quite a distance. Our recitals were usually in the evening and in winter we were frozen stiff after our long journey. Having endured the trip, we had to play in an unheated hall and often put up with a piano affected by the cold. A redeeming feature of our trials and tribulations was that after each performance we were treated to mountains of open apple and plum tarts, a speciality in Thuringia, that were baked for us by a local unit of BDM girls.
During all the time I spent in Haubinda, the school gave me an immeasurable feeling of happiness and fulfilment. I also enjoyed an excellent rapport with my fellow students and some have remained lifelong friends. All this must have played a significant part in helping me cope with the continued separation from my parents. I naturally missed them, but I do not recall ever having been really homesick. The Red Cross letters that my parents sent me were a mixed blessing. On the one hand it was good to get them, but, on the other hand, there was something quite depressing about the terse lines that reached me on an impersonal form every month.
My stay in Haubinda came to an abrupt end in February of 1943 when my class was called on to staff an anti-aircraft battery in central Germany even though we were, on average, only sixteen years of age. My matriculation was still two and a half years away and, though an arrangement was being made that we would continue to receive our lessons, this did not sound at all like a practical idea. The only redeeming feature that I could see was that we were to be allotted in large groups to batteries and would still be with our friends.
However, for all practical purposes our schooldays were over and our idyllic existence in a protected environment was no more. As for me, the whole reason for years of preparation in Ireland, and my going to school in Germany had come to nothing.