Authors: Leon Uris
Anthony Gilray, who was knighted and named a judge fifteen years earlier in the Queen’s Bench Division, arrived in Oxford on assize.
Gilray had a commission in the form of a letter from the Queen, which bore the great seal, and he traveled to Oxford with his marshal, his clerk, his cook, and his valet. It was a time for pomp and ceremony. On the first day in Oxford, Gilray and a fellow judge attended an Assize Service at the cathedral, entering the church behind the under-sheriff of the county, the high sheriff’s chaplain, the high sheriff in military uniform, the judge’s clerks in morning dress of tails, and then the judges attired in full bottomed wigs and ermine-lined scarlet capes.
Here, they prayed for guidance in the administration of justice.
The courtroom. The ceremony continues.
Everyone rises and the commission is opened. The sheriff, chaplain, and undersheriff are on Gilray’s right and his clerk on his left. Before him sits the traditional tricorne hat and the clerk, a portly and distinguished-appearing man, reads the commission naming “beloved and faithful counselors, lord keeper of our privy seal and the lord chief justice of England, most dear cousin counselors, most noble knights” in their full and lengthy tides.
The clerk bows to the judge, who places the tricorne hat on his head for a moment, and the reading continues that all who have grievances can now be heard.
“God save the Queen,” and the court is in session.
In the rear of the court an eager young premedical student, Terrence Campbell, poised his pencil. The first case concerned a medical malpractice suit and would be used in his paper, “Medicine and the Law.”
Outside the courtroom there was the milling of spectators, barristers, journalists, jurors, all adding to the excitement of the opening of court.
Across the street, Dr. Mark Tesslar stopped for a moment on his way and watched the scene and the line of pompous old, highly polished, flag-bedecked ceremonial automobiles lined up before the courthouse.
Tesslar was now a citizen of England and a permanent member of the Radcliffe Medical Research Center at Oxford. He was curiously drawn over the street and into the courtroom. For a moment he stood at the rear as Anthony Gilray nodded to the wigged black-robed barristers to commence.
Tesslar observed the eager row of students, who always were present at such cases, then turned and limped from the building.
16
A
NGELA
K
ELNO, WHO WAS
born and raised in London, was the most anxious about the return and the most shocked. No sudden arctic blast ever chilled more deeply.
AT FIRST, EVERYTHING SEEMED IN ORDER WHEN WE LANDED IN SOUTHAMPTON. I THINK I CRIED DURING THE ENTIRE DRIVE UP TO LONDON. ON EVERY MILE OF THE WAY I REMEMBERED SOMETHING AND MY TENSION GREW. AT LAST WE CAME TO LONDON. MY FIRST IMPRESSION WAS THAT LITTLE HAD CHANGED IN FIFTEEN YEARS.
OH, THERE WERE A FEW NEW SKYSCRAPERS HERE AND THERE AND A NEW WIDE DUAL CARRIAGEWAY INTO LONDON AND SOME ULTRAMODERN BUILDINGS, PARTICULARLY WHERE CENTRAL LONDON HAD BEEN BOMBED OUT. BUT THE OLD WAS THERE. THE PALACE, THE CATHEDRALS, PICCADILLY, MARBLE ARCH, AND BOND STREET. NONE OF THAT HAD CHANGED.
WHEN I FIRST LAID EYES ON THE YOUNG PEOPLE I WAS UNABLE TO RELATE. AS THOUGH THIS WAS NOT LONDON AT ALL. STRANGE PEOPLE FROM A WORLD I NEVER KNEW TRANSPLANTED HERE. SOME FRENZIED KIND OF UPHEAVAL HAD TAKEN PLACE. YOU KNOW, YOU RECOGNIZE IT QUICKLY IN ENGLAND. THINGS HAD BEEN SO STEADY BEFORE.
MIND YOU, I’VE BEEN A NURSE FOR THIRTY YEARS AND I DON’T SHOCK EASILY. THIS THING ABOUT NUDITY IN THE STREETS. IN SARAWAK NUDITY WENT WITH THE HEAT AND THE COLOR OF THE NATIVES. IT WAS RATHER SILLY TO EQUATE IT WITH THE LILY-WHITE PALENESS OF ENGLISH GIRLS IN CHILLY, STAID LONDON.
AND THE COSTUMES. IN SARAWAK THEY WERE BASED ON TRADITION AND CLIMATE BUT HERE THEY MADE NO SENSE WHATSOEVER. THE HIGH LEATHER BOOTS COULD ONLY REMIND ONE OF WHIP WIELDING SADISTS IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY PARIS BROTHELS. THE WHITE THIGHS TURNED BLUE AND GOOSE FLESHY IN THE BITING COLD SO THEY COULD SPORT HEMLINES AT THEIR BUTTOCKS. WHAT WE ARE BREEDING IN THIS GENERATION OF ICY BACKSIDES IS A FUTURE HISTORY OF ENGLISH HEMORRHOIDS. MOST RIDICULOUS ARE THE CHEAP IMITATION FURS THAT DON’T EVEN COVER THEIR BOTTOMS. WITH THEIR SKINNY WHITE LEGS POKING OUT OF THE GHASTLY PINK AND LAVENDER BUNDLES. THEY LOOK LIKE SOME SORT OF MARTIAN EGG ABOUT TO HATCH.
IN SARAWAK, THE MOST PRIMITIVE IBAN COMBED HIS HAIR NEATLY AND KNOTTED IT. THE DELIBERATE ATTEMPT AT SLOPPINESS AND ANTI-BEAUTY APPEARS TO BE SOME SORT OF PROTEST AGAINST THE OLDER GENERATION. YET, IN THEIR MANIA TO PROCLAIM THEIR INDIVIDUALITY AND BREAK WITH THE PAST THEY ALL NOW LOOK AS THOUGH THEY HAD BEEN CAST FROM THE SAME MOLD. BOYS LOOK LIKE GIRLS AND GIRLS LOOK EXCEEDINGLY DRAB. RATHER AN OBVIOUS ATTEMPT TO LOOK UGLY BECAUSE THEY FEEL UGLY AND A WITHDRAWAL SO THEY WILL NOT BE IDENTIFIED BY SEX. HAVE EVERYTHING ONE BIG NEUTER.
THE FRANTIC DRESS OF THE MEN IN BELL BOTTOMS AND LACES AND JUNK JEWELRY AND VELVET ALL APPEARS LIKE A CALL FOR HELP.
ADAM TELLS ME THAT WHAT IS HAPPENING IN HIS CLINIC INDICATES A TOTAL COLLAPSE OF OLD MORALS. THEY HAVE MISTAKEN SEXUAL FREEDOM FOR THE ABILITY TO GIVE AND RECEIVE LOVE. AND MOST SAD OF ALL IS THE BREAKING UP OF THE FAMILY UNIT. ADAM TELLS ME THE NUMBER OF PREGNANT GIRLS IN THEIR TEENS IS UP FIVE OR SIX HUNDRED PERCENT AND THE STATISTICS ON BARBITURATE AND DRUG USERS ARE FRIGHTENING. AGAIN, THIS SEEMS TO INDICATE AN OVERWHELMING URGE OF THESE YOUNG PEOPLE TO WITHDRAW INTO A FANTASY WORLD, LIKE THE IBANS DID, IN TIMES OF STRESS.
I COULDN’T BELIEVE THE MUSIC. ADAM TELLS ME THERE ARE MANY CASES OF PERMANENT HEARING DAMAGE. THE GARBLED POETRY AND DOUBLE MEANING OF FILTHY LYRICS ARE FAR LESS COHERENT THAN THE IBAN SINGERS. THE MONOTONE AND ELECTRIC DEVICES ARE A FURTHER ATTEMPT TO DROWN OUT REALITY. THE DANCING AS THOUGH ONE WERE WATCHING PATIENTS IN A LUNATIC ASYLUM.
IS THIS REALLY LONDON?
ALL THAT I WAS RAISED BY IS BEING RIDICULED AND IT SEEMS THAT NOTHING IS BEING DONE TO REPLACE OLD IDEAS WITH NEW ONES. THE WORST PART OF IT IS THE YOUNG PEOPLE ARE NOT HAPPY. THEY HAVE ABSTRACT THOUGHTS ABOUT LOVING, MANKIND, AND ENDING WAR, BUT THEY SEEM TO WANT THE PRICE OF LIFE WITHOUT WORKING. THEY RIDICULE US, BUT WE SUPPORT THEM. THEY HAVE POOR LITTLE LOYALTY TO ONE ANOTHER AND ALTHOUGH SEX IS PRACTICED IN UNIVERSAL LOTS THEY DON’T UNDERSTAND THE TENDERNESS OF AN ENDURING RELATIONSHIP.
COULD ALL OF THIS HAPPEN IN ONLY FIFTEEN YEARS? THE DISMANTLING OF HUNDREDS OF YEARS OF CIVILIZATION AND TRADITION. WHY DID IT HAPPEN? FOR STEPHAN’S AND FOR TERRY’S SAKE, ONE MUST START TO LOOK AROUND FOR ANSWERS.
LONDON, IN MANY WAYS, WAS LIKE WHEN I FIRST WENT TO SARAWAK. IT IS A JUNGLE FILLED WITH STRANGE NOISES AND CUSTOMS. ONLY, THEY ARE NOT AS HAPPY AS THE IBANS. THERE IS NO HUMOR TO IT ALL, ONLY DESPAIR.
17
I
T WAS EXPECTED THAT
Adam Kelno, having been knighted, would have capitalized on the situation to build himself an exclusive practice in the West End. Instead, he opened a small clinic as a National Health Doctor in a working class section of the Borough of Southwark, close to the Elephant and Castle in the brick row houses near the Thames where most of his patients were warehousemen, longshoremen, and the admixture of immigrants flooding in from India and blacks from Jamaica and the West Indies.
It was as though Adam Kelno did not believe his release from Sarawak and wished to continue his anonymity by living in modest seclusion close to his clinic.
Angela and her cousin walked themselves foot weary in that magic quadrangle bounded by Oxford and Regent and Bond Streets and Piccadilly now swarmed with hundreds of thousands of Christmas shoppers in the gargantuan department stores and the ultra little shops.
Although she had been back in England for more than a year the biting wet penetrating December cold bothered her. The hunt for a taxi was futile. Orderly lines waited with British patience outside the stores and at the bus stops.
Down into the tube.
The underground crossed beneath the Thames to Elephant and Castle and she made home by foot, bogged under a small hill of packages.
Oh, the wonderful weariness, the wonderful tempo of Christmas back in England. All those puddings, and pies, and sauces, and songs, and lights.
Mrs. Corkory, the housekeeper, unloaded her arms, “Doctor is in his study, ma’am.”
“Has Terrence arrived?”
“No, ma’am. He phoned down from Oxford to say he was taking a later train and wouldn’t be arriving until past seven or so.”
She poked her head in Adam’s study, where he was in the familiar posture of scratching away at lengthy reports.
“Hello, dear, I’m home.”
“Hello, darling. Did you buy out London?”
“Almost. I’ll help you with the reports later.”
“I think this paper work for the health service is worse than the Colonial Office.”
“Maybe you’ll use a full time secretary. We really can afford one, Adam. And a dictation machine.”
Adam shrugged. “I’m not used to such luxuries.”
She thumbed through his letters. There were three requests for speeches. One was from the Union of African Medical Students and another from Cambridge. He had scribbled a note on each reading, “decline with the usual regrets.”
Angela was against it. It was as though Adam were trying to downgrade his small measure of fame. Perhaps he had had his fill of blacks and browns. Then why did he choose Southwark to practice, when half the London Poles would have doted over a knighted Polish doctor. Well, that was Adam. In all their years of marriage she had come to accept it though the lack of personal ambition annoyed her, for his sake. But no pushy wife, she.
“Well we’re ready for the invasion from Oxford,” Angela said. “By the way, dear, did Terrence say how many friends he would be bringing?”
“Probably the usual contingent of homesick Australians, Malayans, and Chinese. I’ll be the epitome of Polish gallantry.” They exchanged a small kiss and he returned to his paper work, then threw the pen down. “By God you’re right I’m going to get a secretary and a voice machine.”
Angela answered the phone ring. ‘It’s Mr. Kelly. He says his wife’s pains are coming every nine minutes regularly.”
Adam was up quickly and out of his lounging jacket. “This is her sixth so she’ll be right on time. Have him bring her over to the clinic and call the midwife.”
It was almost midnight before Mrs. Kelly delivered and was situated overnight in the clinic. Angela had dozed in the parlor. Adam kissed her softly, and she automatically arose and went to the kitchen to heat water for tea.
“How did it go?”
“Little boy. They’re naming him Adam.”
“Isn’t that nice. Well we have four infant Adams after you this year. In future years everyone will wonder why every male from Southwark was named Adam.”
“Did Terrence get in?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds rather quiet for five boys.”
“He came in alone. He’s up in your study waiting for you. I’ll bring the tea up.”
Terrence seemed stiff as they embraced.
“Where are all your friends?”
“They’ll be down in a day. May I speak to you about something first?”
“You’ll never make a politician. I’ve been able to read that grim expression since you were born.”
“Sir,” Terrence spoke haltingly. “Well, you know how it’s been with us. Because of you I was a doctor at heart since I can remember. And I know how good you’ve been to me. My education and how close we are.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, sir, my father mentioned some little things about you being in prison and up for deportation once, but I never thought ... it never occurred to me ...”
“What?”
“It never entered my mind that you might have ever done anything wrong.”
Angela came in with a tray of tea. She poured in silence. Terrence looked at the floor and licked his lips as Adam stared ahead, hands tight on the arms of his chair.
“I’ve told him you’ve suffered enough,” she said, “and not to pry into things we want to forget.”
“He has just as much right to know everything as Stephan does.”
“I haven’t done the prying. Someone else has. This book here,
The Holocaust
by Abraham Cady. Have you ever heard of it?”
“It’s quite well known in America. I haven’t read it myself,” Adam said.
“Well, the damned thing’s just been published in England. I’m afraid I have to show this to you.” He handed the book to Dr. Kelno. A marker was in page 167. Adam held it under a lamp and read.
“Of all the concentration camps none was more infamous than Jadwiga. It was here that SS Dr. Colonel Adolph Voss established an experimental center for the purpose of creating methods of mass sterilization, with the use of human guinea pigs, and SS Dr. Colonel Otto Flensberg and his assistant carried on equally horrendous studies on prisoners. In the notorious Barrack V a secret surgery was run by Dr. Kelno, who carried out fifteen thousand or more experimental operations without the use of anesthetic.”
Outside a dozen carolers pressed close to the window and with frosty breath sang out.
“We wish you a merry Christmas,
We wish you a merry Christmas,
We wish you a merry Christmas,
And a happy new year.”
18
A
DAM CLOSED THE BOOK
and placed it on his desk. “Well, do you think I did that, Terrence Campbell?”
“Of course not, Doctor. I feel like a bloody bastard about all this. God knows I don’t want to hurt you but it’s published and hundreds of thousands if not millions of people are going to read it.”