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15 October 2014
WW2 - People's War

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Undesireable Alien?icon for Recommended story

by Tony Jaconelli

Contributed byÌý
Tony Jaconelli
People in story:Ìý
Tony Jaconelli, Catherine (Katie) Jaconelli and Family
Location of story:Ìý
Shettleston, Glasgow
Background to story:Ìý
Civilian
Article ID:Ìý
A4147706
Contributed on:Ìý
03 June 2005

I sat bolt upright, dragged from my slumber by the rapping on the door. It was pitch black in the confines of the recess bed I shared with my brothers Jack and Ernie. I drew back the curtain which hung over the opening of the bed and peered across the room to where my mother's dressing table stood, diagonally opposite the recess. In the mirror's reflection I could see along the hall to the kitchen door; or rather I could see the chink of light which shone through the space between the kitchen door and the door post. The door was always slightly ajar. It had never completely filled the aperture and was the one thing my father was always going to fix, but never did. As it was it was that gap proved a source of comfort to us in the dark of night in our boudoir, reminding us that love, care and succour were never far away.

The knock at the door came again. Ernie was awake now, "What is it?" he asked; as if I should know. The strip of lighted widened and filled the hall. The small, burly figure of my dad was framed in the light as he went to the front door and asked: "Who is it?" and added irately, "Its two o'clock in the morning." A voice outside called: "Open up please. It's the Police!" All sorts of thoughts must have raced through dad's mind as he conjured with the statement. "Oh dear!" he thought, "bad news." He reached down and turned the big key which unlocked the door and turned the check key to open it. Two men in plain clothes and two policemen stood facing him and one gestured to come in, extending his hand and tilting his head towards the kitchen. Dad nodded agreement and they entered. The older policeman said to him: "Mr Jaconelli?" and without waiting for a reply: "you will have to come with us". My father was dumbfounded. "What have I done?" he asked hesitantly, "has someone had an accident?" Dread and confusion raced through his mind as he struggled to comprehend what as happening. My mother, Katie, was at his side, looking very worried, fearing the worst but unable to mouth the questions which were running through her mind.

Both sets of their parents were elderly. Was something wrong with a loved one? Or worse? The policeman carried on as if Dad had not opened his mouth: "Get dressed, sir, I'm afraid Italy has declared War on Britain and we have to round up all Italian nationals. I'm sure it will not take long and you will soon be back home, unless you are considered to be an undesirable alien". My mum went hysterical! What were they doing to her man? What would she do? The second police officer tried to calm her down by suggesting that it would all be cleared up in a short while and asked her: "Is there someone near who can help you?" She told him her mother lived a short way along the road. "I should go there until we can tell you what is happening. We have been instructed to round up all Italian nationals and take them to Tobago Street. That is all we know." He pondered for a moment and then said: "Perhaps you should wait here till the morning. Immigration officials or somebody may want to see you." The younger officer took hold of Dad's arm and moved to put handcuffs on him. Obviously loathing the thought of such a thing happening to him, Dad pulled back violently. The elder officer intervened and said: "I don't think that will be necessary, George". He looked at Dad and raised a questioning eyebrow. Dad nodded agreement, put on his coat, hugged and kissed his wife and all three left. Only then did Katie realise that the two other men had disappeared but she had not been aware of them leaving the house.

In the room we peered from our resting place and strained our ears too in an effort to hear anything from the other end of the house. We saw two torch beams shining down the hall and move into the room. There was no light in either area because Mum had a fear that we would break the gas mantle during our boisterous play and if the gas was lit then it might cause a fire. The bedroom was for sleeping in anyway, playing could be done outside. Behind the torch beams followed two shadowy figures as the two men inspected the surroundings. They started with surprise when their lights lit up the threesome peering out from their recess bed. We were told to hush: "Be quiet and we will be away in a wee while", said a voice in the dark behind the torch.

"What have you done with my Da?" I demanded. "Why is my Ma greetin'?" We were told to go back to sleep and we would hear all about it in the morning. I could not sleep; Jack started to cry; Ernie peed the bed. In the torchlight the two men busied themselves searching for something or other. Mum had heard the noises they made and came into the room intent in giving us a row for making such a racket in the middle of the night. When she saw the torch beams she immediately understood where the two other men had got to. "What are you doing in here?" she demanded. "We have a search warrant and we are just checking for anything unusual," she was told. "My man has been in this country since he was eight. He has never done anything dishonest in his life," she asserted. "We are only doing our job. We won't take long", the men excused themselves. Mum was adamant: "Better not break anything or you'll pay for it." She meant making restitution as opposed to getting into trouble. They prowled around for a little longer, looking in cupboards, under the bed and even spent some time searching under a loose floorboard. They left empty handed; after they had put things back in their place. When they had gone Mum turfed us out of our bed, turned the mattress and put clean sheets on, then tucked us in. Jack said he was sorry for crying, Ernie for wetting the bed. I apologised for getting Dad into trouble for hiding my comics in my "plank" under the floorboards!

My Dad spent an uncomfortable night in the cells. Next morning he was feeling at his lowest ebb. Locked alone in a cell, unaware of what was going on; of what was happening to him and his family. All he knew was that Italy has declared War on Britain. Why did that affect him? He had lived here for most of his life. He was as British as any other resident. His head pounded as he grappled with the plight he found himself in. How could it come to this?

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