Jack Cynamon came to Britain in 1945 after spending part of WW2 in hiding in Belgium:

"My first recollection is aeroplanes in the sky in Brussels. One morning the sky was full of aeroplanes. There must have been 60. We didn't know what to do.

My parents packed a few things, went to the railway station & embarked on the train, in a cattle truck with straw. The train went on & on for 5 days. They were fed by people at the stations, with food & water, they carried on until they reached the Pyrenees. My father worked on a potato farm, they both did, picking potatoes for a farmer, stayed there for about two months & then returned to Brussels because they found out that things weren’t as bad as originally thought. Actually, things were not so bad in Belgium until 1942. I can’t recollect going to school but I must have gone to school of some form.

Then in '42 things started to get really tough. We all had to start wearing a Star of David. We were registered as Jews. My mother & father decided to try & escape. First they tried to get to Spain. hey found a guide, he took them all but at the border he decided to take their money & leave them. Then we came back to Belgium, & then they tried again. They tried a second time to escape to Switzerland & again the guide took their money & left them at the border.

Then things in Belgium became really desperate. They decided to start going to a hiding place. The only way they had currency, my mother had small diamonds & a specially made shoe. She hid the diamonds in the heel of this specially made shoe. Then they went into hiding.

The person that looked after them was a guy by the name of Cnudde. He worked for my father & was able to bring food & the like. He hid them in an attic, I’m not sure where. I was in that attic as well. Then they realised that they could not keep me in an attic. I was 8. I was too – I wanted to run & do things & do what boys do. So one day I remember walking along & we came along to a church & my father said goodbye to me & they left me with a priest, & that was the very last time I saw my father.

There's an organisation called L’Enfant Caché. I vaguely remember saying a sort of goodbye. That was it. The very last time I saw my father. I became a choirboy, in a very lovely place – with other children. I became a choirboy, with all the bells & whistles & everything else. I had blue eyes & blonde hair, I blended in.

I can’t recollect anybody or any of the things that I did when I was there. I was sort of in a – in a quandary. I didn't know what was what. You just go with the flow. I remember being liberated in 1944, the German army leaving, using horse-drawn carriages, pulling big guns. I recall very vividly that same afternoon the American tanks coming into view. 6 tanks & a jeep. They showered us with sweets & chewing gum.

My parents were still in hiding. One day there was a bang on the door because the Germans were doing a house-to-house search for Jews. There was a banging on the door & the Gestapo came in & discovered them. My mother tells me that the very last words my father said to my mother was [gets upset] she was – it's painful. It’s emotional. 'If you ever find Jackie, promise me he will be bar mitzvahed'.

He was taken to Mechelen, a holding camp & then to Auschwitz, in one of the very last transports: on the fourth of the fourth, 1944. So many times I wake up at 4:44 in the morning, thinking about him, a very significant number for me. I woke up this morning with the same.

My mother was British-born so she went to an intern camp, finished up in La Bourboule which is in the Massif Central, which is really quite a nice place. I joined her there after the war. I was in Brussels & out comes my mother. I was, to be truthful, I was horrified. She wanted me to go back with her. I didn't want to. I wanted to stay with the church, with the priest who loved me. My mother was at that stage a sort of a stranger. I hadn’t seen her for 2½ years."

Pyrenees

Memories

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