James Watson

Watsonworks
Blog 14
August 2010

*What’s it about the

Belgians?
* Hardy & Chekhov:
happy endings?
* Lest We Forget…
Gaza, the pusillanimous
West
* ‘Snaps’ & ‘Tom Thumbs’

Not just good at chocolates

No one seems to have much of a good word for the Belgians
so I’m glad to report on a book that does them proud. The
Twentieth Train, by German journalist Marion Schreiber, is an
account of the Nazi occupation of Belgium and the persecution
of the Jews; the key focus being the determination of the SS
etc. to get the Jews on to trains heading for Auschwitz.

The 20th train was the one – the only one – in which escape
took place, resulting from the hi-jack action by three Belgian
friends armed only with pairs of pliers, a hurricane lamp
covered in red paper and one pistol between them. The train
was halted, a skirmish followed and 225 prisoners managed to
escape.

The book matches any thriller, the events being described in

the kind of detail which allows the reader to dramatically and
movingly realise the wider picture.
 In fact, the book devotes only a chapter or so to the
ambush of the train – successful for many on board, disaster
for others, including the leader of the tiny guerrilla band. The
rest of the book focuses on the build-up to the attack, taking
in the many connected people among the Jewish and non-
Jewish community.

Protecting the hunted

What is so much to the credit of both Jews and non-Jews in
Belgium is the respect that was shared, the very real (and
dangerous) protection the non-Jewish extended to the Jews
under the manic eyes of the Nazis.
Families were hidden. Children separated from arrested
parents were ‘adopted’. Time and time again Belgians risked
their lives to protect the hunted.

Of course there were SS stooges who, to curry favour with the

Germans, wormed their way into the confidence of Jews and
then betrayed them; men such as the elegant and charming
Pierre Romanovitch, the self-styled ‘Russian count’.

The leader of the ambush of the 20th Train, Doctor Youra

Livichitz, having survived that fateful night of 19th April 1943,
having so successfully kept the enterprise secret, relaxed his
guard. Putting his trust in the apparently honest Romanovitch,
he let slip the names of those needing help; and for that
misjudgement paid the ultimate price. He was arrested,
tortured and shot – as his brother, and fellow conspirator, had
been.

It is a traumatic as well as a moving and inspiring story. Those

that escaped were but a tiny fraction of those who completed
their journey to Auschwitz and the gas chambers. But
Schreiber’s excellent and important record of events pays due
regard to the courage and resolution of ordinary Belgians
during these horrific times; something folks should remember
when a nation is classified as little more than a bunch of
chocolateers.

Notes in passing…1
From the Writer’s Notebooks

Hardy, Chekhov & happy endings

Even in his short stories, Thomas Hardy sets Destiny against
happy endings. While Chekhov’s Lady with the Little Dog does
not exactly end happily, it does not end sadly; indeed though
the affair between Gurov and Anna will continue to be
troubled, because it has to be kept secret, it suggests there
will be no end; that true love will overcome circumstances.

The same would probably happen in Hardy’s stories, but there

is always the invisible hand of fate unwilling to permit
happiness or true deserts.
Chekhov focuses on the human predicament of fate,
nevertheless, in that both lovers are married to people they do
might have been the opportunity to commit to love without
concealment.

Love as identified in the Chekhov story is difficult to define, to

pin down, and the characteristics which induce love in the first
place are unclear. What is it about Gurov that makes Anna
love him? He is twice her age, greying. In turn we learn very
little about what he sees in her except her beauty, for her
sense of guilt at the affair, of being a sinner, is not a feature
that draws him closer; on the contrary.

So we are left with a mystery, though it might be asked

whether the need for secrecy, the risks that are being taken,
the on-the-edge nature of the affair is the spice which, for
both of them, gives the relationship its frisson.

Notes in passing…2
From the Writer’s Notebooks

4th Jan. 2009: Another year, another protest

Having practically choked Gaza to death, Israel has now been
bombing it for days. Last night they invaded. Meanwhile
between London’s Embankment and Trafalgar Square
thousands of us protested, in bright sunshine surrounded by
an ocean of banners.

It may do us good, the marchers; make us feel that we are

achieving something, but as with the million-strong march
against the invasion of Iraq, we were powerless, probably even
pathetic.

The war went on because those in power willed it, were in

collusion. As always the odd man out was Joe Public. Of course
the New Labour government’s response has been
pusillanimous – oh, the grave concern of it, the wringing of
hands; but as for doing something about the situation,
nothing.
Politicians keep using the word ‘disproportionate’. When a
rocket from Hamas takes one life in Tel Aviv and Israeli bombs
kill a whole mosque full of worshippers, that is isproportionate.

What does that bloody-well mean? Not fair; not just; not
playing the game? And yet, under media interrogation the
foreign secretary, Mr. Arsole Miliband, refuses actually to
speak a word. Oh yes, it has been collectively expressed at the
United Nations – but for a minister of the Crown to say it out
loud, no.

Of the many placards the one that took my eye said:

GUERNICA
WARSAW
GAZA
ISRAEL STOP BEHAVING
LIKE NAZIS

‘Snaps’ & ‘Tom Thumbs’

Visitors to the excellent blog of Sarah Salway (Sarah Salway’s
Writing Journal) will have become familiar with her short
stories of 50 words, the triggers for these being odd or
intriguing snapshots. I’ve been doing something similar only
(so far) without the snaps and with a more indulgent word-
count of 100, or fewer. These tiny tales I’ve called Tom
Thumbs. Who knows, Snaps and Tom Thumbs might catch on
– an annual festival, maybe…

To round off this blog, here’s one that abides by Sarah’s rule
of 50 words:

Two’s a crowd
The world’s greatest faced each other across the Signoria.
‘After you, Maestro,’ said Michelangelo.
‘No, after you,’ replied Leonardo.
You’ll need longer,’ argued Michelangelo.
Leonardo: ‘I’ll wait till you have a decent wash.’
Without adding a brushstroke they went their separate ways.
A lesser painter, one Vasari, spared Florence’s blushes.

Thanks for reading this. As ever, feedback welcome.

JIM.