The Story of the IPC in Godstone Green

Part Two - The Journey

I was ready and waiting on Friday evening, 31 August 1951, dressed with hat, suit, shirt and tie (no casual wear for students in those days). I, with my two large suitcases caught the 11.35pm express to Cologne, with connecting coach for Oostende. No passport or visa or any other documentation. Famous last words from Father, I'll be surprised if all goes well. The night-journey to Aachen was uneventful, and I soon met up with the group leader Jumbo, who carried my passport.

The travel party was made up of six girls and twelve boys from the Stuttgart area, plus myself from Herne, travelling hopeful to England. The 19+8 students of the International People's College were: Fanny Ullmann, Ilse Bethge, Ursula Stalph, Dorothea Braun, Susanne Katerla-Cichos, Pia Katerla-Cichos and the boys: Jumbo (Wolfgang Wauro), Günther Urbanczik, Axel Knauf (Barbarossa), Benjamin (Hartmut Glöckner), Gerd Hauch, Manfred Rost, Dieter Simon, Rudi Kaselow, Emmo (Emil Frank), Helmut Schneider, Kutschi (Heinz Kuczmirzyk), Herbert Lehmann and Gerhard Ostkamp.

A second party, from the Hannover area came three weeks later: Maria Knote, Anita Boettcher, Irmgard Itty, Margot Itty, Else Kruck, Marianne Franz, Irene Glodeck and Rudi Gutsch.

The journey onwards through Belgium was disagreeable, I had to stand in the corridor surrounded by the luggage. I felt a bit lost, among strangers, and tired after the sleepless night. Jumbo tried to make contact, passed on bits of information from Peter Brenner. Ilse stood nearby at the window, and we did have a go at conversation, but we gave up after a while. Next to me, sitting on suitcases, was Herbert and we made a better start at getting to know one another. We were going to be together for a whole year, and it was time to make new friends.

The seemingly endless journey through Belgium did not leave any real impressions worth talking about. The Belgians seem to have a preference for small, pretty houses. At about 10am we reached the port of Oostende. The transfer from train to ferry was fairly quick, no delays at the passport and customs control, as we were just passing through. I believe the ferry was for rail passengers only. I can't remember seeing any cars on board, just stacks of mailbags being crane loaded. The Dover - Oostende connection was then still the Mailboat service.

The Channel crossing was also just another part of the journey to England, it did not leave any lasting impressions. Lots of water, and windy. The many large hotels situated along the seafront got smaller and smaller, and disappeared from view, very soon we were all alone. The sea was no longer so smooth as it first seemed, and it was getting very choppy. After an initial tour of inspection around the ship, I settled down and felt lost, and looked to Herbert for company. After the 4 1/2 hours crossing we arrived in Dover, the sea was fairly rough when we landed.

Dover did not impress us a lot, we were looking forward to admire the famous white cliffs, but instead found only grey rocks and drizzle. Passport control and Immigration took somewhat long for our group. According to the Aliens Order Certificate of Registration, we were then permitted to land at Dover on condition that we were not to accept any employment paid or unpaid other than agricultural employment at a specified Volunteer Agricultural Camp and not to remain in the UK for longer than 3 months.

Anything else would have to be sorted out with the Aliens Depart-ment at the Home Office. The Customs check was thankfully a lot easier and quicker, it was just questions and answers and the Customs officer made his chalk mark on our suitcases. He knew all about Godstone, and said it is just a small village with 25 houses. The boat train to London Victoria was running late, probably due to our delayed entry, the train missed its allocated slot in the time table. It was slow, crawl, stop, wait, and then continue in the same fashion. And then it started to rain, nothing unusual in itself but at that moment we were feeling pretty low and considered it to be a bad omen.

When we arrived in London, Victoria Station looked enormous, a very busy place, lots of taxis, people and new noises, but as 'the' station of the capital it did not seem impressive enough to us. Much later did we realise that Victoria Station was just one of the many London terminals. We liked the look of the many red, double decker busses on the station forecourt. It was now about 8.30 pm on Saturday evening, 1 September 1951.

We crowded around our stack of luggage, and waited for someone to contact us. Mr DeBevere, according to our information from Brenner and Gerda Roth, was the Head of the International People's College and he was going to collect us and take us to the Agricultural Camp.

I can't remember how we actually met, but the first impression of our college principal, was on the whole, very good. He took charge of our group, arranged the transportation, and we went by coach to the camp. We were heading south across the Thames, and saw in the distance the lights of the Festival of Britain. There were so many new impressions flooding in on us at the time, it was just too much to cope with at the end of a very strenuous day. We did notice the efficient street lighting, very useful in the fog, and also the good conditions of the roads. And then we finally arrived in Ivy Mill Lane, Godstone Green, in the County of Surrey. The camp was situated at the end of the Green.

We were very, very disappointed when we saw the camp. What a disaster. It looked like a typical refugee camp, with low huts, tents and muddy paths. It was all very upsetting, we felt letdown, and dis-illusioned. But we eventually got over the shock and made the best of it.

The VAC-Camp Godstone Green consisted of six huts/barracks and about twenty army tents. Two huts for accommodation, one as a washing-place, one kitchen and eating place, and two for the camp staff and office. At peak harvest times there were about 60 people living in the camp. But, it was not intended for stays longer than one to three weeks. Several students could not cope with the situation and left for home after a few days.

Our hut had two large rooms, eight beds in one room, and six in the other. All with minimum equipment, campbeds with rough blankets, basic wardrobes and bare white walls - just one step up from a refugee camp. In the dining hall rough, wooden tables, a piano, table tennis game and a radio, constantly blaring at maximum volume. The walls were decorated with posters, 'Help to save the Food in the Fields of Surrey'. There we have it, we thought, we're just here for the harvest.

Suddenly we realised that there was no International People's College, just an attempt at starting a college. Mr DeBevere had only been given permission to place 30 young Germans for three months in this camp (Volunteer Agricultural Camp) at Godstone Green, and that was it.

Diary entries from December 1951
translated in July 1995 by Gerhard Ostkamp.