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Eva Mendelsson, Offenburg, November 9, 1938: When you're a child, when nasty things happen, you remember. It makes a tremendous impression, even if you don’t quite understand. Kristallnacht. They came at 7am. They yanked my father out in his nightie. Two of those… I don’t know whether they were SA or SS. They took him away. Then my mother rang round & said, “What’s happened?” “What? Did it happen to you?” “They’ve taken Ed away.” They found out that everybody else was in the same boat. All the men had been collected. They did not desecrate the synagogue then, because it was attached to another building. But they took the Torah, threw it out of the window. They didn’t even know how to draw a Hakenkreuz. They didn’t make a good job of it. To desecrate the portion - it’s just horrific, yes? My father then disappeared then for six weeks. They took him to prison. They made them sing sing: 'Muss i denn, muss i denn zum Städele hinaus und du mein Schatz bleibst hier...' [I have to leave the town, I have to leave the town, but you, my darling, you stay here] 'Wenn i komm, wenn i komm, wenn i NIE wieder komm' [The original song lyrics are: 'when I come back', but she sings “'when I NEVER come back']. The 10-minute journey to the station took them an hour. People were looking at them. They made them wear a top hat so that they could make fun of them. You know, not very- not very nice. The journey to Dachau: I can’t tell you. They were kept at night in a prison. A fortnight later, my mother got a postcard. 'Es geht mir gut. Bitte beobachtet die Beschreibung.' In other words: 25 words we’re allowed to write. On the 20th of December, there was a ring on the bell. I went down, & I saw my father. I was afraid of him. I shouted, 'Mutti, Mutti, ich glaub’, es ist Vater!' [Mum, mum, I think, it is Dad!] His head was shaven. He had lost so much weight. I was a bit frightened of him, somehow, this bald head. It was just, you know, I was 7. My mother she came of course, & they had this reunion. Apparently that’s the only time that she’d seen my father cry. Then she went out & she did some shopping. Sauerkraut & Würstchen. That was rather funny, that that made an impression, you know? During the lunch he explained he had to leave within six months or else they would harm the whole family. Six months later, my father went on a certificate to England, on transit to Palestine. The idea was to bring the whole family over, afterwards. But bear in mind, that was in June ’39. And war broke out September 3. You had July, August, so you barely had eight weeks. In those 8 weeks he could not get us out. So, my father went to England. He landed up in the Kitchener camp in Deal. They had correspondence, but once the war broke out, you can’t write anymore. Everything stopped. Now my mother was left with 3 children. 3 children. I don’t know what she lived on. I have no idea... Can’t tell you. My mother’s first reaction or declaration was, she went to the pharmacy to buy soap. I thought that was very odd. Soap is important? War? You know, that was the connection. Maybe in the First World War there was a shortage. I can’t tell you. Then she was frightened for us. We were so near the French border. She decided she would like to go inland more, because we were so close. 28km from Strasbourg. So she was afraid of the French bombing. So, we went to Munich. A rented room with a Jewish family. From house to flat, from flat to one room. 989: Buying Sauerkraut & Soap Eva Mendelsson Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Previous Memory Next Memory 989: Buying Sauerkraut & Soap ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Eva Mendelsson Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Eva Mendelsson's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, May 2016 • Learn More → Eva Mendelsson Attempted Humiliation Dachau Encounter With Nazi Officials Food Kitchener Camp November Pogrom / Kristallnacht Pre-war Camp Reunited Song Torah Destroyed Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany See Locations Full Text Eva Mendelsson, Offenburg, November 9, 1938: When you're a child, when nasty things happen, you remember. It makes a tremendous impression, even if you don’t quite understand. Kristallnacht. They came at 7am. They yanked my father out in his nightie. Two of those… I don’t know whether they were SA or SS. They took him away. Then my mother rang round & said, “What’s happened?” “What? Did it happen to you?” “They’ve taken Ed away.” They found out that everybody else was in the same boat. All the men had been collected. They did not desecrate the synagogue then, because it was attached to another building. But they took the Torah, threw it out of the window. They didn’t even know how to draw a Hakenkreuz. They didn’t make a good job of it. To desecrate the portion - it’s just horrific, yes? My father then disappeared then for six weeks. They took him to prison. They made them sing sing: 'Muss i denn, muss i denn zum Städele hinaus und du mein Schatz bleibst hier...' [I have to leave the town, I have to leave the town, but you, my darling, you stay here] 'Wenn i komm, wenn i komm, wenn i NIE wieder komm' [The original song lyrics are: 'when I come back', but she sings “'when I NEVER come back']. The 10-minute journey to the station took them an hour. People were looking at them. They made them wear a top hat so that they could make fun of them. You know, not very- not very nice. The journey to Dachau: I can’t tell you. They were kept at night in a prison. A fortnight later, my mother got a postcard. 'Es geht mir gut. Bitte beobachtet die Beschreibung.' In other words: 25 words we’re allowed to write. On the 20th of December, there was a ring on the bell. I went down, & I saw my father. I was afraid of him. I shouted, 'Mutti, Mutti, ich glaub’, es ist Vater!' [Mum, mum, I think, it is Dad!] His head was shaven. He had lost so much weight. I was a bit frightened of him, somehow, this bald head. It was just, you know, I was 7. My mother she came of course, & they had this reunion. Apparently that’s the only time that she’d seen my father cry. Then she went out & she did some shopping. Sauerkraut & Würstchen. That was rather funny, that that made an impression, you know? During the lunch he explained he had to leave within six months or else they would harm the whole family. Six months later, my father went on a certificate to England, on transit to Palestine. The idea was to bring the whole family over, afterwards. But bear in mind, that was in June ’39. And war broke out September 3. You had July, August, so you barely had eight weeks. In those 8 weeks he could not get us out. So, my father went to England. He landed up in the Kitchener camp in Deal. They had correspondence, but once the war broke out, you can’t write anymore. Everything stopped. Now my mother was left with 3 children. 3 children. I don’t know what she lived on. I have no idea... Can’t tell you. My mother’s first reaction or declaration was, she went to the pharmacy to buy soap. I thought that was very odd. Soap is important? War? You know, that was the connection. Maybe in the First World War there was a shortage. I can’t tell you. Then she was frightened for us. We were so near the French border. She decided she would like to go inland more, because we were so close. 28km from Strasbourg. So she was afraid of the French bombing. So, we went to Munich. A rented room with a Jewish family. From house to flat, from flat to one room. 989: Buying Sauerkraut & Soap Eva Mendelsson Adapted from Eva Mendelsson's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, May 2016 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

968: How To Talk Without Crying Our Services Item Title Two Item Title Three Ida Skubiejska was born in Poland & forced to emigrate to Siberia during WW2: Ida Skubiejska Read Full Text Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Home All Memories About Menu Close ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Ida Skubiejska's interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2003 • Learn More → Ida Skubiejska Auschwitz Finding Out Recovery Telling The Story Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Scotland See Locations Full Text Ida Skubiejska was born in Poland & forced to emigrate to Siberia during WW2: Everybody was killed in Auschwitz: my parents, my sister, all my uncles, aunts & cousins. Absolutely everybody except my other sister & my cousin. I was very sociable until I got the news. Ida's wartime experiences as a deportee & then a nurse had taken her from the USSR to Tehran & eventually, in 1945, to Scotland. What happened was I kept in touch with doctors all over the place with whom I worked, with senior officers who wrote me long letters. I enjoyed all this huge company from Tehran, from Palestine, from Kiev. Whoever I came across we kept in touch, wrote letters to each other, gave little gifts & this & that & the other. But when I got the news about my family I sort of completely shut myself in. I was in Carnoustie at that time, I spent the days getting up very, very early, at daybreak, & running along the seashore. I just had a marathon of running, I was very, very sort of sporty, I could walk, I could mountain-climb, I could do anything in the way of just running. Running helped me. But for years & years on end, maybe 15 years afterwards, I would not wear any other colour but black. It was quite psychological: it never crossed my mind if I went into a shop or bought a piece of remnant to make something out of it, it had to be black. The same with coats & the same with hats & the same with everything whatever I wore. Black. Everything started to be all right once I started concentrating on being about to teach geography in English, which was exactly the same except of the sort of different pronunciation. Everything went extremely well. But one could not ask me where is your mother, or what happened. If I spoke about her, that was all right, but if somebody else asked me I couldn’t answer, tears dropping down. The same at all the anniversaries & remembrance days. All very strictly observed because that was the generation which knew it. And I couldn’t stand there. To listen to the Last Post [bugle call] was just about as much as I could do. But now I can. It took me ages & ages before I could even talk about it. Now I can talk without crying. But only a fortnight ago we had a remembrance service here next door in the main office for all the residents around here, many of whom are ex-service, with the Last Post back again. I could speak all the time about recipes from home. How to make this & that. This I could talk about, but not the rest. So that’s the story. It doesn’t affect my sleep. What I don’t like is too much loneliness. I like to be with people, I like to go out. And I don't like Holocaust programmes on television or the books. That’s one thing I will not watch. I would not watch the Pianist, I would not watch Schindler’s List. A year before my husband died, we went for a month to Poland. We went from place to place. I could photograph the remembrance to my professor who was murdered by the Russians. They stood beside me, they knew I was shivering. And all this was just wonderful for me. I would gladly go there again. I didn’t go to Auschwitz although we passed the entrance to it a number of times. I didn’t want to go there. What I did, and what I am proud of: I belonged to the ex-service organisation of ex-Jewish servicemen. I went with them to Jerusalem, to Yad Vashem for a big service. I found the cave with memorial plates instead of tombstones & I bought one & it is in the cave of remembrance at Yad Vashem. And that’s where I think I buried my parents & my sister. Not in Auschwitz, in Jerusalem. 968: How To Talk Without Crying Ida Skubiejska Edited from Ida Skubiejska's interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2003 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

997: My Mother & Father Our Services Item Title Two Item Title Three Trude Silman MBE, Bratislava, wartime: Trude Silman MBE Read Full Text Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Home All Memories About Menu Close ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Trude Silman MBE's interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2003 • Learn More → Trude Silman MBE Close Family Murdered Finding Out Never Finding Out Red Cross Letters Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Czechoslovakia See Locations Full Text Trude Silman MBE, Bratislava, wartime: My mother is a question mark. I know she survived ‘til 1944 because we used to get the odd occasional 25-word Red Cross letter, but then it stopped. I really don’t know exactly what happened to her. Initially she was in Bratislava. I’m given to understand she worked as a nurse in the Jewish hospital. Eventually she must have moved out of there & gone further East when there was the Slovak uprising. As far as we can gather, but we have no proof, she went out one day & never came back. They assumed she was one of the people who was picked up & shot. But we have no clear evidence as to what actually happened to her, we believe she was sheltered by a Roman Catholic priest, & we actually had some proof of this, because, after the war, the priest’s housekeeper somehow or other sent us a letter telling us about some possessions of my mothers, which they were placing with another aunt. But we’ve lost the letter so we’ve no idea what, where & how. I’ve never been able to trace it. If you don’t know the place, if you don’t know the name, if you haven’t the time, if you don’t speak the language, it is not easy to do. So we hope that possibly still some literature will come up from somewhere. The Red Cross haven’t been able to trace her & there’s no record. She seemed to lead the sort of life that most of her sisters lived. They did their basic cooking, they did their shopping, they met in the coffee house to talk, they went to each others’ houses & that was basically it. But my mother was a very early riser. She used to go & do the market shopping very early in the morning, about five in the morning when the market started, I remember that. She was a fabulous cook, & unfortunately I never picked it up, because I was too young at that age to learn about those sorts of things. It's a tragedy, a real tragedy, what happened to my parents. I only found out relatively recently that my aunt & uncle managed to get them a post as housekeepers, domestics. My father was already well in his 50s, & he decided he was too old to make that sort of a commitment & he didn’t think that the Holocaust would arrive, he didn’t think it was going to be what it was going to be. So my parents didn’t come out. I only discovered this when I found a document from one of the refugee committees. There was a little ‘D’ against my parents' name that indicated that they were granted a domestic permit. They never took it up. So that was that, I only discovered that relatively recently. In 1939 Trude came to the UK with her aunt. Her brother & sister were already there. Up to about 1941 were letters written on what I would call toilet paper & my father did most of the writing, used to be a little sheet of paper & if it came to me I would pass it to my sister, & she would pass it onto my brother, so we used to circulate our letters. That’s why some of them have gone astray, because my brother destroyed all of his stuff, he couldn’t bear it. So we lost a lot. Then the letters stopped. My father was transported to Auschwitz on the 19th of April, 1942. The death certificate said the 8th of May. So he survived 3 weeks in Auschwitz, which doesn’t surprise me, because when he was transported he had actually injured his leg, & my cousin who saw him off said he was limping when he went on the transport. You know, you were expecting to see your parents very soon. There wasn’t a day, every single night I used to pray they’re all right, & that they’ll be safe, & I’ll see them soon, this went on for years & years & years. But again the emotion has gone out of this as the years have come on, that goes, you only remember the nice things. 997: My Mother & Father Trude Silman MBE Adapted from Trude Silman MBE's interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2003 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

970: Mother's Death At Our Liberation Our Services Item Title Two Item Title Three Mirjam Finkelstein (aged 11) spent 13 months in Bergen-Belsen camp with her mother & two sisters: Mirjam Finkelstein Read Full Text Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Home All Memories About Menu Close ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Mirjam Finkelstein's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2006 • Learn More → Mirjam Finkelstein Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp Encounter With Nazi Officials Liberation Reunited Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany See Locations Full Text Mirjam Finkelstein (aged 11) spent 13 months in Bergen-Belsen camp with her mother & two sisters: By January 1945 there were rumours. People got quite excited. There was a wooden table, we had to walk past the camp doctor. He decided who would go to wherever we were going. I don’t think anybody really knew. My mother managed—I don’t know how—to walk upright past him, & we were chosen to go on this transport. Immediately then & there we were taken to the railway tracks nearby. There was a bathhouse. We were told to strip & have a shower. I wasn't afraid but the adults must have been terrified that this wasn't water coming, you know. But indeed it was water. We were told to get out & get dressed, & we were sat on the embankment & were given something to eat. This I remember you see: given something to eat. Then the train arrived, an ordinary train. To me this journey lasted about two weeks but it was only a few days. We stopped a lot because of bombardments. My mother was lying on the bench. It kept stopping at various concentration camps. We were told it was an exchange. I think we knew we were going to Switzerland. Very cold & snowy outside. Eventually we were told to get off the train. My sister said ‘Look we…’—to an SS officer with his high boots who came through in the morning. Ruth said: ‘We can’t get out; we can’t carry my mother out’. He said:‘OK. Stay.’ Eventually we reached St Gallen & were put onto a Swiss train. I suppose we were exchanged, for German prisoners of war who were in America. We crossed the border & they took my mother to hospital. She died within hours; she died that night in Kreuzlingen. She, I think, knew she’d taken us out. She’d got us free—& let go. She was very, very weak. She died & she’s buried there. We were taken up on top of a mountainside & they put us up in a sort of barn where cows were normally kept, but it was very clean & there was fresh straw. We were then told that my mother had died. My eldest sister was allowed to go to the funeral. An officer with a rifle took her under guard to Kreuzlingen to a Jewish family. She had a bath & a meal at the table. They went to the funeral there. I’ve been to visit a few times. My sister came back & took care of us. I don’t think it hit us completely what happened. People cabled my father. Then the Swiss handed us over to the Americans & we were put onto a train with American soldiers. The Americans by then had liberated France. We went down the Rhone-Saone valley, littered with tanks & military vehicles, a lot of battles. We were taken to Marseilles, a pitiful remnant. A few people died when they arrived, like my mother did. There were only about 60 of us. We would have gone anywhere they took us. We were put on to an Italian warship in the harbour, with the idea that we would be taken to Philippeville in Algeria to a United Nations refugee camp for people who didn’t have proper passports. My father cabled & pulled every string. He managed to get permission to have us shipped to America. So we were at the very last moment taken off this Italian warship & put on the Gripsholm, a Swedish Red Cross ship taking wounded American soldiers back home. Oh my, those soldiers were in a terrible state. The injuries of these poor young men, it was really quite appalling. The journey to New York took quite a long time, about two weeks. It was still wartime, we took a very southerly route to avoid submarines & mines. We came into the harbour there to the Statue of Liberty. We were interviewed & interrogated & put onto Ellis Island for a few nights. A prison basically. Then we were taken into New York to an immigration office, and there down the corridor came my father! It was quite amazing. We were asked to swear the Oath of Allegiance & were handed over to him! And came into brightly lit…I mean America was at war but it was brightly lit because the bombers couldn’t reach that far. My father took us to the cafeteria of his hotel. You know, it was as if we’d landed on the moon. Quite, quite extraordinary. But children take these things in their stride. In a way, adults do as well. My sister Ruth for a long time afterwards used to take food up into…by her bedside table. I suppose she felt, you know, any moment now it’ll disappear again. Long time that she did that. 970: Mother's Death At Our Liberation Mirjam Finkelstein Edited from Mirjam Finkelstein's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2006 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Poland 1940: Soviet troops force 14-year-old Izak Wiesenfeld & his family to emigrate from Przeworsk to Novosibirsk, Siberia: We were taken by lorries into the forest, to a huge barrack. The first speech: “You will never get out of here, here you will die & if you don’t work you won't get any food”. I was 14. I had to go to the forest to cut down trees & dry out swamps, difficult work. They used to give workers 1.2kg of bread. People who couldn’t work, or who were too young: 0.5kg. The bread inside was like clay, outside was a bit better. We had no vegetables, fruit, fat, sugar, or anything like this. Because of it we couldn’t see at night, we really lost some of our sight. But when war broke out, in 1941, they stopped all the bread as well. We had to live from what we could collect in the forest. During the summer we had strawberries, or mushrooms & all kind of things. That is what we had to live on for a long, long time. We were there with Russians who'd been there since 1917, since gulags & communism. They helped, knew what was edible. When we got malaria in Siberia, during the 3 months that it was hot—people think of Siberia as cold, that wasn’t the worst, the worst was the 3 months when it was hot, like a tropical country. Then it was like in the Torah, in the Tochacha [Leviticus 26] they say: “In the evening we waited for morning & in the morning we waited for evening”. In the evening when we came home we couldn’t sleep in the barrack, because there were the bugs, & outside there was the mosquitos, thousands of them, & then we waited for the morning. And we went to work in the morning in the forest & every bite you got your hand was swollen & your feet were swollen & you waited for the evening, so it was… it was very, very difficult. For malaria there is only one cure: quinine. Here, if you get malaria, you either get an injection or pills. There, after pleading & pleading & pleading, we got it in powder form. This is the bitterest thing in the world. We couldn’t take it, one Gulag said: get hold of an onion, get one of their thin skins, wrap up this powder in it, with a bit of water. That's how we could take it. But lots of people didn’t survive. Once they became ill there, you are finished, no cure, no doctor, no medicine, or anything like this, so that is how my father died in Siberia, & my friend's father. I was a bit lucky, because although I was 14 I was short, so when my father died I was still able to sit shiva. But when my friend's father died, he didn’t go to work & they put him in prison for 8 days for this. There were about 120 or 130 of us in the barracks & about 39 died during the one and a half years we were there. We were taken once to clear away snow, about 10km from us. We slept in a school overnight on the floor, & there we got some bread, it was good bread somehow. We queued up, with our names, & she couldn’t read our names. Some of us queued up 3 times, we got 3.6kg of bread. We lay down on the floor, it was only bread, nothing else. We couldn’t fall asleep until we finished the whole lot, because for months we didn’t have any. But they didn't treat us too bad. It depended who was in charge. Mazel [luck] played a big, big part in this. We were in the forest, we were free, we couldn’t go anywhere. We had no transport, no paper, no radio, we didn’t know the world existed. Cold weather is actually very healthy weather, if you have proper clothing & boots. A human being can survive different climates. If you take an animal from a hot climate to another climate, it may die. But somehow, Hakodosh Boruch Hu [God] gave us special shkoyach [strength], if I was to eat now what I did there, or walk now on snow with bare feet, I wouldn’t be well here. Whatever Jewish customs we could keep, we kept. No question of eating treife [non-kosher food]. There was no treife there, no meat or anything like that. Although remember I said we couldn’t see at night, because of the lack of vitamins? A Russian said “If you get hold of a piece of liver & eat it your sight will be restored.” Eventually we got hold of one & it came back. 975: Life In A Siberian Labour Camp Izak Wiesenfeld Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Previous Memory Next Memory 975: Life In A Siberian Labour Camp ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Izak Wiesenfeld Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Izak Wiesenfeld's interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, August 2006 • Learn More → Izak Wiesenfeld Food Forced Soviet Emigration Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Soviet Union See Locations Full Text Poland 1940: Soviet troops force 14-year-old Izak Wiesenfeld & his family to emigrate from Przeworsk to Novosibirsk, Siberia: We were taken by lorries into the forest, to a huge barrack. The first speech: “You will never get out of here, here you will die & if you don’t work you won't get any food”. I was 14. I had to go to the forest to cut down trees & dry out swamps, difficult work. They used to give workers 1.2kg of bread. People who couldn’t work, or who were too young: 0.5kg. The bread inside was like clay, outside was a bit better. We had no vegetables, fruit, fat, sugar, or anything like this. Because of it we couldn’t see at night, we really lost some of our sight. But when war broke out, in 1941, they stopped all the bread as well. We had to live from what we could collect in the forest. During the summer we had strawberries, or mushrooms & all kind of things. That is what we had to live on for a long, long time. We were there with Russians who'd been there since 1917, since gulags & communism. They helped, knew what was edible. When we got malaria in Siberia, during the 3 months that it was hot—people think of Siberia as cold, that wasn’t the worst, the worst was the 3 months when it was hot, like a tropical country. Then it was like in the Torah, in the Tochacha [Leviticus 26] they say: “In the evening we waited for morning & in the morning we waited for evening”. In the evening when we came home we couldn’t sleep in the barrack, because there were the bugs, & outside there was the mosquitos, thousands of them, & then we waited for the morning. And we went to work in the morning in the forest & every bite you got your hand was swollen & your feet were swollen & you waited for the evening, so it was… it was very, very difficult. For malaria there is only one cure: quinine. Here, if you get malaria, you either get an injection or pills. There, after pleading & pleading & pleading, we got it in powder form. This is the bitterest thing in the world. We couldn’t take it, one Gulag said: get hold of an onion, get one of their thin skins, wrap up this powder in it, with a bit of water. That's how we could take it. But lots of people didn’t survive. Once they became ill there, you are finished, no cure, no doctor, no medicine, or anything like this, so that is how my father died in Siberia, & my friend's father. I was a bit lucky, because although I was 14 I was short, so when my father died I was still able to sit shiva. But when my friend's father died, he didn’t go to work & they put him in prison for 8 days for this. There were about 120 or 130 of us in the barracks & about 39 died during the one and a half years we were there. We were taken once to clear away snow, about 10km from us. We slept in a school overnight on the floor, & there we got some bread, it was good bread somehow. We queued up, with our names, & she couldn’t read our names. Some of us queued up 3 times, we got 3.6kg of bread. We lay down on the floor, it was only bread, nothing else. We couldn’t fall asleep until we finished the whole lot, because for months we didn’t have any. But they didn't treat us too bad. It depended who was in charge. Mazel [luck] played a big, big part in this. We were in the forest, we were free, we couldn’t go anywhere. We had no transport, no paper, no radio, we didn’t know the world existed. Cold weather is actually very healthy weather, if you have proper clothing & boots. A human being can survive different climates. If you take an animal from a hot climate to another climate, it may die. But somehow, Hakodosh Boruch Hu [God] gave us special shkoyach [strength], if I was to eat now what I did there, or walk now on snow with bare feet, I wouldn’t be well here. Whatever Jewish customs we could keep, we kept. No question of eating treife [non-kosher food]. There was no treife there, no meat or anything like that. Although remember I said we couldn’t see at night, because of the lack of vitamins? A Russian said “If you get hold of a piece of liver & eat it your sight will be restored.” Eventually we got hold of one & it came back. 975: Life In A Siberian Labour Camp Izak Wiesenfeld Edited from Izak Wiesenfeld's interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, August 2006 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

992: Chickenpox Bridget Newman Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close July 1938: Bridget Newman's father, mother & brother move to Britain. Bridget, age 6, remains in Berlin with her grandmother. I was stuck. Then one day, the doorbell rang: a Gestapo. He came in, he was really rather nice. He had white hair & a big, white moustache & really quite kindly blue eyes. But he apologised, really, really apologised that he would now have to take this house & we would have to go. But we had to go quite quickly. I was in a bit of danger, because my father hadn't paid the Juden tax & they were looking for me. My grandmother couldn’t be with me anymore. She found a safe house for me, with a lady, Mrs Grünbaum. I’m sure she was a very good woman but I disliked her intensely. My grandmother had some flat or dwelling place near me. But we were only allowed to meet in the wood secretly. I had to eat potato soup with sausage in it. Nowadays I love it. In those days I hated it & I didn’t eat. I shared a room with other children & nearly every night the Gestapo were hammering at the doors of the house, looking for adults. Quite scary, a lot of noise & clatter. We were trying to sleep. My parents sent an Englishwoman over to try to help me. She found a place for me on a train bearing orphaned children to London. We had a day & everything. And on the day, I woke up, itching all over. What was the matter? I had chickenpox. Now, with any illness or disease, I would not have been allowed on the train. So, they clothed me with I don’t know how many layers of clothing, to cover all the spots [laughs]. And also, to take more clothes out, because I only had this small suitcase & and 10-shilling note & a big notice on my chest saying, ‘Both parents dead.’ I wouldn't have been allowed on the train otherwise. This was mid-December 1938. I said goodbye to my old nanny. We both cried bitterly and she said, ‘Why don’t you stay here with our lovely Hitler?’ I had no answer for that. I don't remember Kristallnacht. I just remember I got this teddy bear & was shoved to this safe house. The lady who came to arrange for me to go to England insisted I had to call her 'Auntie' & wear white gloves. She didn't come with me on the train. Nobody was allowed to travel with me. I had to say goodbye to my grandmother & this lady on the platform. My grandmother arranged for a little 11-year-old to look after me. I had chickenpox. I remember being on that ship & I itched, I couldn’t scratch. I couldn’t get anywhere. I was 6. I didn’t think I was happy; I think I cried a lot. But I had this little girl & she gave me a silver bracelet, which she said I should wear in her memory, which I did afterwards for many years. I didn’t know what happened to her. We went on to this boat at night. There was something soft on the floor. We all had to lie down as we were & told to go to sleep. I seem to remember just laying down, but itching. [Laughs] And then I don’t know if it’s true but I remember hearing frogs croak & chains rattle. Then I was shoved up the gangway to leave the ship. And there at the top of the gangway were my parents, & we cried & my mother cried. I said to her, ‘Why are you crying?’ She said, ‘Because I’m so happy.’ My parents were staying at the Cumberland Hotel in Marble Arch. My mother had a little gas ring on which she’d got a Schnitzel ready for me. And I can still smell the Schnitzel being fried & prepared for me. It was the first decent food I’d had for a long time. Then 14 days later my grandmother also arrived. We had a big celebration. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Bridget Newman's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, October 2023 • Learn More → Bridget Newman Encounter With Nazi Officials Food In Hiding Staying With Strangers Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

974: How To Recover Susan Pollack OBE Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Ribbingelund, Sweden, 1945: Susan Pollack OBE, aged 15, recuperates after liberation from Bergen-Belsen: It took a long time for me to strengthen my own needs. I made a friend & she made a very big, deep impression on me. A shared nightmare. Friendship, trust, sharing, being understood. But then she left, she met someone. I forget exactly the reason why she left quite soon. I missed her terribly. I still think about her. I never befriended the other survivors that much. They were older & more angry. We had felt vulnerable. I lost my youth. My treatment was based on just walking, slow walking. Being fed with good food, listening to music every night, gentle. That’s what I enjoyed very much, a peaceable existence. An existence where I could walk on my own if I chose to do so. Being understood, how lovely. How lovely when you’ve got a home & you’re being loved & considered & you mattered. What a great feeling. And of course, I didn’t have anyone. Susan & her brother Laci were the only members of their 50-strong extended family to survive the Holocaust I often repeat it now in my quiet times, the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He raised me down in still waters. Who will ascend to the mountain of righteousness? Only those with clean hands and a pure heart. I repeat it to myself in my little prayer. My brother told me not to come home. I learned of his survival when I was in Sweden. He informed me, ‘Don’t come back to Hungary’, so where could I go? I’m just on my own. That oneness, aloneness. Then going to Canada, somehow it emerged. We were told that we could go to Canada. I didn’t know where it is located, what it is. That aloneness was a driving force, aloneness. The realisation, where do I belong? Where do I belong? So they took me to Canada & that’s where I met my husband-to-be. We were taken to Toronto. For three weeks we stayed in this home together. Then placed individually with people, with families. I was placed with a Jewish family. I became a kind of a Communist, because they were Communist & the Communists were very friendly. There was a son & a daughter, who wasn’t very friendly to me. I felt the loneliness there very much. Then, it was a problem, going occasionally to these meetings with the Communists could present a huge problem, living in Canada. So, we cut that off. Then I met my husband-to-be. They found a job for me. I had no education, nothing. Nobody suggested, ‘Ah, you could learn to speak English in the evening classes’ or whatever. No, nothing. The factory was miserable time in my life. I couldn’t use the electric sewing machine. I was the only girl who couldn’t speak a word of English. Other people formed themselves in a group. And laughing. ‘Oh’, you know, ‘she’s…’ That went on for a while, being on my own & excluded. No understanding of where I'd come from. I learned my English actually, by listening to people. The daughter of the boss said, ‘Can I come & visit you?’ I said ‘Please do.’ I didn’t have any money to buy food, but that’s by the way. Then she cancelled. I can’t tell you how unhappy I became, having been—you know, she’s the boss’s daughter. Then, she cancelled it. I felt very shameful. It was difficult, it was difficult because we felt, like you say, we were the others. I met my husband. Hungarian, a few years older than me. Same experience. He had a terrible time, it’s surprising he managed to survive. He was working on railways & many of them died. He became very aware of his—missed—necessity of living in a modern world. He was a good listener. He was fun, liked dancing. We understood each other's tough times. It helped me, it gave me strength, the driving force. ‘Do you want a ring?’, he said. ‘No’, I said, ‘it has no practical purpose, a ring. I need a watch, if anything.’ So, I got a watch. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Susan Pollack OBE's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, October 2023 • Learn More → Susan Pollack OBE Close Family Murdered Concentration Camp Recovery Swedish Recuperation Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Canada Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

983: The Struggle To Stay Alive Helen Aronson BEM Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Helen Aronson was taken to the Łódź Ghetto in 1941 aged 14: We were taken to a disused prison. People were crying & hungry, not knowing anything. In the morning, Chaim Rumkowski, head of the Jewish Council of Elders of Łódź Ghetto, came to see us. He said: I will try & find accommodation for you but the main thing is to get a ration card & work, work, work. I'll do my best. So the parents of the children started to cry. They said: Mr Rumkowski, what has happened to our children? He said: don't worry about your children because my very good friend, Mordechai Chmura, who I worked with before the war in various orphanages, he volunteered & went with all the children from Pabianice & I know he will look after them. So when my mother heard that, she came to him & said, I’m Mordechai's wife. These are my two children. He said: I'll try & help you as much as I can. I must admit that he did because his power was like the Queen of England. Whatever he instructed you got. The whole thing was to be able to get a little bit more food. So my brother got a job in offices, liaisons between the ghetto & the Germans. Everything made in the ghetto went through these offices & things that came to the ghetto. He spoke fluent German. My mother worked in a canteen which was giving rations every week to people. I was sent to a orphanage in Marysin, near Łódź, a area which is a little bit green & wooden houses, summery things. There I was to look after orphanage children. They were not much older than I was & they all had to work. We made straw mattresses. I used to tell them stories, these kids, about Hansel & Gretel, that when they arrived at the orphanage, it would be made of bread [laughs]. But at that time I was not well, I suffered with various cysts on my body through the change of everything. I was in hospital having something opened when the Germans decided to close the orphanage & evacuate all the children. [Gets upset] I know that when they were loaded on those vans, they were calling my name, something I can’t forget. Also they decided to send old people, so my mother went. My brother had a document saying that his family are not to be sent. But it didn't mean anything. But my mother went from one street to another, to another, escaping them. Then I was delivering lunch to my brother where he worked in the centre of the ghetto. Suddenly out of the blue, lorries arrive, taking anyone at random. I'm in the middle. People started running, I started running, I didn't know where. I ran into a big building. So much screaming & dogs. So I run into this building, I don't know where it was, & run upstairs into an empty room & hide inside the bed with the cover over me. I’m hearing screaming. I hear them enter this room. They're standing near this bed I'm hiding in. And they go. Then I lie in this bed for I don't know how long. Then I looked out very timidly & see it’s dark. I thought: I'd better go home. Meanwhile my brother realised that I’m in great danger. He decided to look for me. He goes to Radogoszcz, the station they collect people, he can’t find me anywhere. He goes home, says: Helen’s been taken. Well, you can imagine my mother, the neighbours, the crying. Then I arrived [laughs]. I don't know, I don't know. It just happened that way, like people say. I gave a talk once at the Barbican. A woman stood up & said, oh, aren't you—what did she say—sorry, or something, or: don't you feel guilty that you are alive & so many people died? For a moment I didn't know what to say. Then I said: maybe I am alive for a purpose because if I wouldn't be here to tell you all this, you wouldn't know. But that’s what I mean. Every hour it was something: the fight of being alive & food [laughs]. My brother had typhoid, I looked after him, he was in hospital. Then they decided to confiscate the whole hospital & he was there. Every day, every minute: a struggle to live but then the [sighs]—how can I say. It’s something within you that you just want to see from one day to another. To survive. The struggle of daily life, staying alive. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Helen Aronson BEM's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, July 2024 • Learn More → Helen Aronson BEM Ghetto Incarceration Near Escape Reunited Telling The Story Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Poland Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

970: Mother's Death At Our Liberation Mirjam Finkelstein Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Mirjam Finkelstein (aged 11) spent 13 months in Bergen-Belsen camp with her mother & two sisters: By January 1945 there were rumours. People got quite excited. There was a wooden table, we had to walk past the camp doctor. He decided who would go to wherever we were going. I don’t think anybody really knew. My mother managed—I don’t know how—to walk upright past him, & we were chosen to go on this transport. Immediately then & there we were taken to the railway tracks nearby. There was a bathhouse. We were told to strip & have a shower. I wasn't afraid but the adults must have been terrified that this wasn't water coming, you know. But indeed it was water. We were told to get out & get dressed, & we were sat on the embankment & were given something to eat. This I remember you see: given something to eat. Then the train arrived, an ordinary train. To me this journey lasted about two weeks but it was only a few days. We stopped a lot because of bombardments. My mother was lying on the bench. It kept stopping at various concentration camps. We were told it was an exchange. I think we knew we were going to Switzerland. Very cold & snowy outside. Eventually we were told to get off the train. My sister said ‘Look we…’—to an SS officer with his high boots who came through in the morning. Ruth said: ‘We can’t get out; we can’t carry my mother out’. He said:‘OK. Stay.’ Eventually we reached St Gallen & were put onto a Swiss train. I suppose we were exchanged, for German prisoners of war who were in America. We crossed the border & they took my mother to hospital. She died within hours; she died that night in Kreuzlingen. She, I think, knew she’d taken us out. She’d got us free—& let go. She was very, very weak. She died & she’s buried there. We were taken up on top of a mountainside & they put us up in a sort of barn where cows were normally kept, but it was very clean & there was fresh straw. We were then told that my mother had died. My eldest sister was allowed to go to the funeral. An officer with a rifle took her under guard to Kreuzlingen to a Jewish family. She had a bath & a meal at the table. They went to the funeral there. I’ve been to visit a few times. My sister came back & took care of us. I don’t think it hit us completely what happened. People cabled my father. Then the Swiss handed us over to the Americans & we were put onto a train with American soldiers. The Americans by then had liberated France. We went down the Rhone-Saone valley, littered with tanks & military vehicles, a lot of battles. We were taken to Marseilles, a pitiful remnant. A few people died when they arrived, like my mother did. There were only about 60 of us. We would have gone anywhere they took us. We were put on to an Italian warship in the harbour, with the idea that we would be taken to Philippeville in Algeria to a United Nations refugee camp for people who didn’t have proper passports. My father cabled & pulled every string. He managed to get permission to have us shipped to America. So we were at the very last moment taken off this Italian warship & put on the Gripsholm, a Swedish Red Cross ship taking wounded American soldiers back home. Oh my, those soldiers were in a terrible state. The injuries of these poor young men, it was really quite appalling. The journey to New York took quite a long time, about two weeks. It was still wartime, we took a very southerly route to avoid submarines & mines. We came into the harbour there to the Statue of Liberty. We were interviewed & interrogated & put onto Ellis Island for a few nights. A prison basically. Then we were taken into New York to an immigration office, and there down the corridor came my father! It was quite amazing. We were asked to swear the Oath of Allegiance & were handed over to him! And came into brightly lit…I mean America was at war but it was brightly lit because the bombers couldn’t reach that far. My father took us to the cafeteria of his hotel. You know, it was as if we’d landed on the moon. Quite, quite extraordinary. But children take these things in their stride. In a way, adults do as well. My sister Ruth for a long time afterwards used to take food up into…by her bedside table. I suppose she felt, you know, any moment now it’ll disappear again. Long time that she did that. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Mirjam Finkelstein's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2006 • Learn More → Mirjam Finkelstein Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp Encounter With Nazi Officials Liberation Reunited Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

Brussels 1942: 6-month-old Jacques Weisser BEM is hidden in children's homes & hospitals. His father is forced to become an Organisation Todt slave labourer. His mother is deported to Malines & murdered in Auschwitz. I should've delved more into it, asking questions. But most of the time after the war I wasn't with my father. When I was he never wanted to talk about it. 'It was what it was, we survived, we made a life for ourselves'. That's what he'd say. He refused to be interviewed by the Shoah Foundation. Maybe being on camera wasn’t his thing. My father was already gone when my mother was taken in the street. The question is, who was I with during that period? Who looked after me for a few days before putting me in this Meisjeshuis [children's home]? It’s a blank. Nobody can tell, nobody knows & I have no memories. There's nobody to ask any more & no records. In my understanding my given name would be 'Salomon Weisser'. Subsequently 'Jacques' became my nom de guerre but in the Jewish orphanage, they misspelt my name & got my birth of date wrong. That's why the research has been so hard. In Belgium there were a lot of children that were somehow saved in one shape, form or another. There was quite a decent underground. A lot of them were Jewish communists, including my uncle, Chaim Weisser. He was responsible for Charleroi. His son was also a hidden child. In August 1944 German officials decided to send the last orphans to Malines. The Belgian resistance hid the children instead. Jacques was hidden in the Ardennes with a boy called Bill. Many years later I found the lady who was involved in hiding in me in the Ardennes. I found her name, Mme Wittamer. I managed to make an appointment to see her but she never turned up. I subsequently learnt that she’d married & never told her husband that she’d hidden a child during the war. My father says that when he found me she didn't want to give me up. A lot of them didn't. She wanted to keep this child. He never talked about her either, which again I found subsequently difficult to understand because it was the last step, if you like, in the life story of being alive. The Resistance put me with her in the Ardennes. And, for whatever reason, no information of any kind from any of the family, apart from the fact that they may have met her once. Not from my father, not from my stepmother, not from anybody. That in a way hurts because that would have been [sighs]—it would have been good. To close the circle I suppose. I only know her first name because there is a card that was found. Her name was Wittamer. For many years I had photos of me, I knew it was me but where they came from, where they were taken, I had no idea. One of them gives my name on the back of one of the photos: 'souvenir de Jacqui'. Who wrote it, no idea. There's so many different layers—the puzzle, you know, trying to find the bits & pieces, it’s complicated, complex. Jacques' father was liberated by US soldiers in the forest of Waldenburg. He came to Brussels. In those days “the place to go to” when you came back was the station, always the railway station. There he met somebody he knew who told him: don't bother going to Antwerp, nothing there for you anymore, your wife died, your brother has survived. We believe your son is alive. So my understanding is he found where I was, through the Red Cross. He found me, he says in Virton but maybe in Esch-en-Raphaël, & brought me back to Brussels, met his wife-to-be, my stepmother, & his life carried on from there, as did mine. 973: The Puzzle & The Blanks Jacques Weisser BEM Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Previous Memory Next Memory 973: The Puzzle & The Blanks ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Jacques Weisser BEM Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Jacques Weisser BEM's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, December 2023 • Learn More → Jacques Weisser BEM Close Family Murdered Finding Out Hidden Child In Hiding Never Finding Out Not Remembering Staying With Strangers Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Belgium See Locations Full Text Brussels 1942: 6-month-old Jacques Weisser BEM is hidden in children's homes & hospitals. His father is forced to become an Organisation Todt slave labourer. His mother is deported to Malines & murdered in Auschwitz. I should've delved more into it, asking questions. But most of the time after the war I wasn't with my father. When I was he never wanted to talk about it. 'It was what it was, we survived, we made a life for ourselves'. That's what he'd say. He refused to be interviewed by the Shoah Foundation. Maybe being on camera wasn’t his thing. My father was already gone when my mother was taken in the street. The question is, who was I with during that period? Who looked after me for a few days before putting me in this Meisjeshuis [children's home]? It’s a blank. Nobody can tell, nobody knows & I have no memories. There's nobody to ask any more & no records. In my understanding my given name would be 'Salomon Weisser'. Subsequently 'Jacques' became my nom de guerre but in the Jewish orphanage, they misspelt my name & got my birth of date wrong. That's why the research has been so hard. In Belgium there were a lot of children that were somehow saved in one shape, form or another. There was quite a decent underground. A lot of them were Jewish communists, including my uncle, Chaim Weisser. He was responsible for Charleroi. His son was also a hidden child. In August 1944 German officials decided to send the last orphans to Malines. The Belgian resistance hid the children instead. Jacques was hidden in the Ardennes with a boy called Bill. Many years later I found the lady who was involved in hiding in me in the Ardennes. I found her name, Mme Wittamer. I managed to make an appointment to see her but she never turned up. I subsequently learnt that she’d married & never told her husband that she’d hidden a child during the war. My father says that when he found me she didn't want to give me up. A lot of them didn't. She wanted to keep this child. He never talked about her either, which again I found subsequently difficult to understand because it was the last step, if you like, in the life story of being alive. The Resistance put me with her in the Ardennes. And, for whatever reason, no information of any kind from any of the family, apart from the fact that they may have met her once. Not from my father, not from my stepmother, not from anybody. That in a way hurts because that would have been [sighs]—it would have been good. To close the circle I suppose. I only know her first name because there is a card that was found. Her name was Wittamer. For many years I had photos of me, I knew it was me but where they came from, where they were taken, I had no idea. One of them gives my name on the back of one of the photos: 'souvenir de Jacqui'. Who wrote it, no idea. There's so many different layers—the puzzle, you know, trying to find the bits & pieces, it’s complicated, complex. Jacques' father was liberated by US soldiers in the forest of Waldenburg. He came to Brussels. In those days “the place to go to” when you came back was the station, always the railway station. There he met somebody he knew who told him: don't bother going to Antwerp, nothing there for you anymore, your wife died, your brother has survived. We believe your son is alive. So my understanding is he found where I was, through the Red Cross. He found me, he says in Virton but maybe in Esch-en-Raphaël, & brought me back to Brussels, met his wife-to-be, my stepmother, & his life carried on from there, as did mine. 973: The Puzzle & The Blanks Jacques Weisser BEM Edited from Jacques Weisser BEM's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, December 2023 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

987: Father's Deportation Our Services Item Title Two Item Title Three Berlin, October 28, 1938: Betty Bloom's father Joseph Schütz is deported back to Poland as part of the Polenaktion: Betty Bloom Read Full Text Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Home All Memories About Menu Close ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Betty Bloom's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2020 • Learn More → Betty Bloom Close Family Murdered Encounter With Nazi Officials Never Finding Out Polenaktion Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany See Locations Full Text Berlin, October 28, 1938: Betty Bloom's father Joseph Schütz is deported back to Poland as part of the Polenaktion: Unfortunately, at 6am, there was a knock on the door & two Gestapo officers marched in & arrested my father. He didn't even have time to say goodbye to us. They took him down the stairs. He was on the first transport of Polish Jews to—you know—deported from Berlin to a place on the Polish border. The Poles wouldn't let him in. They were left there in October without any clothes, without anything, without any heating, for months. They couldn't go back; they couldn't go forward until the Poles eventually relented & let them into Poland. My father made contact with his family. In Poland he went first to stay with his mother in a place called Nowy Sącz, not far from Jaslo near the Czech border. I don't know how long he was there for. We had one or two calls from him. I had a cousin left in Berlin who sent parcels to my father because she was in hiding but she managed to send parcels to my father which I've never forgotten. I know he ended up in Buchenwald eventually because a survivor from Buchenwald made contact with my mother & came & told her that he was with him in Buchenwald in '44. At the end of '44, beginning '45. I assume he was in the death march from Buchenwald to Bergen-Belsen. 15 years ago my husband & I went to Auschwitz. We searched the records in Auschwitz but found no record of my father. I don't know the exact date that the Red Cross contacted us & informed us that the last record they have of my father is in Bergen-Belsen in January 1945, which to us was the worst news we could have had. Because to survive from '38 to '45 & then to die like this. Now after these deportations to Poland was the Kristallnacht because one of the people whose parents were deported—you probably know his name, a young man, Grynszpan. He was so angry that he killed a German in Paris which gave the Nazis the excuse for for Kristallnacht. Following Kristallnacht, I was very aware of what's going on because even at 7 or 8, at the end of our road, there was a display panel for Der Stürmer—the Nazi magazine. I read it. I read anything I could read. They made, there was a sign on our shop saying "Kauft nicht bei Juden", don't buy from Jews, even before my father was deported. So, I was well aware of what was going on. So then my mother's brother was sending his children to England, on the Kindertransport. And my older sister Ruth started to say we must do the same. 987: Father's Deportation Betty Bloom Adapted from Betty Bloom's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2020 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Forced Labour Memories 959: The Invasion Of Hungary George Donath It was a Sunday. We went to my grandparents for lunch as usual. All of a sudden we see these black Mercedes drawing up in front... Previous Experience Next Experience