Hiding In Plain Sight Memories 957: How To Hide In Vienna Father Francis Wahle Letter-writing was timetabled: once a week. But from 1942 onwards there were no letters in reply because my parents went underground... Read Full Memory 996: How To Hide In Berlin Hans Danziger My father had nerves of steel. Before the war, Jews were obliged to put ‘Israel’ in front of their names. My father refused... Read Full Memory Previous Experience Next Experience

Not Allowed To Visit Cinemas Memories 998: Red Oaks Boarding School Ruth Jackson I was led upstairs to an empty dormitory & told that the very end bed was mine & I should have a bath & come down to tea. I felt miserable... Read Full Memory Previous Experience Next Experience

Hans Danziger's Jewish parents survived the war in hiding in Berlin: My father had nerves of steel. Before the war, Jews were obliged to put ‘Israel’ in front of their names. My father refused. He said his name wasn't Israel & nobody was going to tell him what to do. So he was hauled up before the magistrates, who sentenced him to 3 weeks in Spandau. He went to prison. My mother was absolutely terrified of what they were doing to him inside, came to meet him at the prison gates with bags of sandwiches in case he’d been starved. He said, “Put those away. I couldn’t eat a thing more.” In the evenings, he said, the warders used to come round to his cell, & say, “Come on Danziger, tell us. What are these idiots doing to the Jews?" He told them what was going on & they were amazed. Another time, when they were hiding during the war, he'd been somewhere & was coming through the railway barriers. My mother was waiting for him & somebody jostled my father. My father turned around & offered to punch him in the face. My mother nearly died. They had no papers, nothing. My father said to her afterwards “If I'd cowered, they might have been saying, ‘Are you a Jew or something?’” He said, “As it was, nobody dared question it.” Another day, he was on the tram, having been to the country to fetch eggs & butter & so forth from a farmer. Black market. He was on the tram & some Nazi with a big swastika in his buttonhole said to him, “What have you got in your case?” My father said, “I've got butter, eggs, sugar, a bit of this, leg of chicken.” The chap says, “Yeah, yeah. In your dreams.” My father said, “Just shows you my son, always tell the truth.” This is how they first hid: my father was working in Daimler-Benz. One day, the Jews were told to stay behind. My father thought, well, this does not bode well. So he put his hat & coat on, & went. The gatekeeper said to him. “A bit early, isn't it?” My father said “I've got a dental appointment.” “OK, see you tomorrow.” He obviously hadn't been told to keep the Jews in. So my father went. God knows what happened to the rest. My father went straight to the underground, took off his yellow star, rode around, I don't know for how long. He then phoned some friends who said, “Yes, Lotti’s with us.” So he knew my mother was safe. Then he went to the house. Fischer, the porter, had made an arrangement with him. If there was trouble or the Nazis were upstairs, he would turn a cup upside down in his porters’ lodge. So my father went past & he saw the cup upside down. So he didn't go up. Then a couple of nights later, he went back again. There was nothing there. So he went upstairs. He broke the seal on the door, because the Gestapo had sealed the door. He started getting the boxes ready & the porter came rushing up & said, “What are you doing? Are you mad? Some people are saying there's a light on in the Danziger flat.” So they turned the lights off. My father said “Take what you want, just get the boxes to Goerner.” So they did up the boxes & manhandled them downstairs to the porter’s lodge. From there, they went to his friend Goerner’s place. These were all non-Jews. There were many people, all non-Jews who helped them, hid them, gave him false papers, took them out. I can't say enough about them. My father tried with Yad Vashem to get honours for certain people. One of them employed my father as a night watchman. So during the day, my father went out of the district where he was known & went to different places. At night, he had a safe place to go as a night watchman. By this time, my mother had been questioned by the Gestapo about where my father was. She could answer honestly saying she hadn't a clue. They left her alone. Then her friend Helli was working at an electrical plant, Siemens. The foreman there quite fancied her. When it was time, all the Jews stayed behind, he said to her “Look, I know you're not that keen, but do you want to go with them? Or do you want to come home?” She said, “I'll come home with you if my friend Lotti can come.” So he said, “Alright, bring your friend Lotti, but you’d better hurry.” So he got them to his house & put them up. There was an old railway carriage at the end of his garden with the chickens in. He threw out the chickens & installed Helli & my mother. He used to bring them little bits of felt to make hats, which he then sold in the factory. Nobody asked where he got the hats from. He was a bit of a drunk, & when he was drunk, he used to sing anti-Nazi songs. Not a good thing to do in those days. So, my mother got very frightened & said to Helli, “I don't think we ought to hang around here.” So my mother stayed with some other friends, one of whom was not Jewish. Had been married to a Jew, who had divorced him. He found my mother a job with some woman who had dementia & was some raving old Nazi. My mother didn't look very Jewish so that was OK. We have a photo of a Nazi officer in the photograph book. And we said, “What on earth’s he doing in there?!” You know. She said, “you don't judge a book by its cover”. She said she was somewhere at a party & this officer was there & he said to her, “I'm sure,” you know, “ask your husband's permission, but honoured Lady—gnädige Frau—if you would care to have my arm should you want to go out. I would always be—here's my phone number.” So she phoned him & he took her out. If she wanted to go shopping to some shop, where she wouldn't be allowed normally, he would take it to the shops. He knew she was Jewish. He didn't ask any questions; he didn't want to know. He never asked. He never said anything. But obviously, why should he bother, you know? Sadly, sadly, he was killed by the Russians at the end of the war & both his sons died on the Russian front—they were both doctors. Very sad. The ones who do good get killed. 996: How To Hide In Berlin Hans Danziger 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 996: How To Hide In Berlin ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Hans Danziger Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Hans Danziger's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2021 • Learn More → Hans Danziger Arrested Encounter With Nazi Officials False Identity Helped By Non-Jews Hiding In Plain Sight In Hiding Near Escape Nerves of Steel Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany See Locations Full Text Hans Danziger's Jewish parents survived the war in hiding in Berlin: My father had nerves of steel. Before the war, Jews were obliged to put ‘Israel’ in front of their names. My father refused. He said his name wasn't Israel & nobody was going to tell him what to do. So he was hauled up before the magistrates, who sentenced him to 3 weeks in Spandau. He went to prison. My mother was absolutely terrified of what they were doing to him inside, came to meet him at the prison gates with bags of sandwiches in case he’d been starved. He said, “Put those away. I couldn’t eat a thing more.” In the evenings, he said, the warders used to come round to his cell, & say, “Come on Danziger, tell us. What are these idiots doing to the Jews?" He told them what was going on & they were amazed. Another time, when they were hiding during the war, he'd been somewhere & was coming through the railway barriers. My mother was waiting for him & somebody jostled my father. My father turned around & offered to punch him in the face. My mother nearly died. They had no papers, nothing. My father said to her afterwards “If I'd cowered, they might have been saying, ‘Are you a Jew or something?’” He said, “As it was, nobody dared question it.” Another day, he was on the tram, having been to the country to fetch eggs & butter & so forth from a farmer. Black market. He was on the tram & some Nazi with a big swastika in his buttonhole said to him, “What have you got in your case?” My father said, “I've got butter, eggs, sugar, a bit of this, leg of chicken.” The chap says, “Yeah, yeah. In your dreams.” My father said, “Just shows you my son, always tell the truth.” This is how they first hid: my father was working in Daimler-Benz. One day, the Jews were told to stay behind. My father thought, well, this does not bode well. So he put his hat & coat on, & went. The gatekeeper said to him. “A bit early, isn't it?” My father said “I've got a dental appointment.” “OK, see you tomorrow.” He obviously hadn't been told to keep the Jews in. So my father went. God knows what happened to the rest. My father went straight to the underground, took off his yellow star, rode around, I don't know for how long. He then phoned some friends who said, “Yes, Lotti’s with us.” So he knew my mother was safe. Then he went to the house. Fischer, the porter, had made an arrangement with him. If there was trouble or the Nazis were upstairs, he would turn a cup upside down in his porters’ lodge. So my father went past & he saw the cup upside down. So he didn't go up. Then a couple of nights later, he went back again. There was nothing there. So he went upstairs. He broke the seal on the door, because the Gestapo had sealed the door. He started getting the boxes ready & the porter came rushing up & said, “What are you doing? Are you mad? Some people are saying there's a light on in the Danziger flat.” So they turned the lights off. My father said “Take what you want, just get the boxes to Goerner.” So they did up the boxes & manhandled them downstairs to the porter’s lodge. From there, they went to his friend Goerner’s place. These were all non-Jews. There were many people, all non-Jews who helped them, hid them, gave him false papers, took them out. I can't say enough about them. My father tried with Yad Vashem to get honours for certain people. One of them employed my father as a night watchman. So during the day, my father went out of the district where he was known & went to different places. At night, he had a safe place to go as a night watchman. By this time, my mother had been questioned by the Gestapo about where my father was. She could answer honestly saying she hadn't a clue. They left her alone. Then her friend Helli was working at an electrical plant, Siemens. The foreman there quite fancied her. When it was time, all the Jews stayed behind, he said to her “Look, I know you're not that keen, but do you want to go with them? Or do you want to come home?” She said, “I'll come home with you if my friend Lotti can come.” So he said, “Alright, bring your friend Lotti, but you’d better hurry.” So he got them to his house & put them up. There was an old railway carriage at the end of his garden with the chickens in. He threw out the chickens & installed Helli & my mother. He used to bring them little bits of felt to make hats, which he then sold in the factory. Nobody asked where he got the hats from. He was a bit of a drunk, & when he was drunk, he used to sing anti-Nazi songs. Not a good thing to do in those days. So, my mother got very frightened & said to Helli, “I don't think we ought to hang around here.” So my mother stayed with some other friends, one of whom was not Jewish. Had been married to a Jew, who had divorced him. He found my mother a job with some woman who had dementia & was some raving old Nazi. My mother didn't look very Jewish so that was OK. We have a photo of a Nazi officer in the photograph book. And we said, “What on earth’s he doing in there?!” You know. She said, “you don't judge a book by its cover”. She said she was somewhere at a party & this officer was there & he said to her, “I'm sure,” you know, “ask your husband's permission, but honoured Lady—gnädige Frau—if you would care to have my arm should you want to go out. I would always be—here's my phone number.” So she phoned him & he took her out. If she wanted to go shopping to some shop, where she wouldn't be allowed normally, he would take it to the shops. He knew she was Jewish. He didn't ask any questions; he didn't want to know. He never asked. He never said anything. But obviously, why should he bother, you know? Sadly, sadly, he was killed by the Russians at the end of the war & both his sons died on the Russian front—they were both doctors. Very sad. The ones who do good get killed. 996: How To Hide In Berlin Hans Danziger Adapted from Hans Danziger's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2021 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Maria Ault Read full biography at The AJR / Refugee Voices Testimony Archive Memories 977: The Cruel Guardian Maria Ault My first guardians were fine. But when we were evacuated we stayed with a very, very, very, very bad person who used to hit us... Read Full Memory Previous Person Next Person

Dismissed From Job Memories 947: The End Of The Gallery Tom Heinemann My grandmother ran the gallery very successfully. Then she got arrested on some trumped up currency charges & put into prison... Read Full Memory 958: Discovering I Was Jewish John Dobai My parents thought that by changing their religion, it might produce some sort of saving, at least for me. But they were wrong... Read Full Memory Previous Experience Next Experience

Agricultural Labour Memories 965: Wounded Animals On The Farm Walter Kammerling It’s that type of work that put me off gardening. When you go on a cold, wet January & you get a big bag & are told to pick up... Read Full Memory Previous Experience Next Experience

988: Getting Up From The Dust Ivor Perl BEM Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Ivor Perl BEM, born in Makó, Hungary, survived Auschwitz, Kaufering & Dachau camps: I was only 12 when I was taken to Auschwitz. I feel very, very hurt that I haven’t got many memories of my family. I think I've only got three photos. Painful. I'd give my children a hug when they were leaving for school: 'Give me a kiss, have a nice day'. But people living in that part of the world at that part of the time had couldn't afford that luxury. The antisemitism was constant. Growing up I accepted being called a dirty Jew." Ivor was 7th out of 9 siblings. My brother Alec was the only other one who survived. He was two years older than me. We went together to Auschwitz & survived together. He looked after me. He saved me from the gas oven twice, literally. I was in the gate of hell when he saved me. When the Germans overthrew the Hungarian government [1944], from the following morning, edicts started coming out against the Jews, gradually. Jews mustn’t marry non-Jewish people. You must be home by 7. You mustn’t go from a certain street. Gradual, gradual, until the noose. We used to play football with non-Jewish friends. Those same boys, when the time came for us to be herded into Szeged ghetto, they were ones that herded us there. After the war my brother spoke to those boys we used to play with. He said, how could you do that to us? They said: Well, we didn't know what was happening. All we were told along was the equivalent of the Boy Scouts. The sergeant used to come along: tomorrow, turn up with a stick & we’ll give you ten shillings. And they turned up & their job was to herd us into the ghetto. My father & two other brothers were sent to the labour battalion & then to Auschwitz. One day in Auschwitz, my brother & I were walking along & he said to me: our father is here. I said: how comes? We used to have roll calls every morning & one day my father didn't come back. We've got the date of his sort of passing away but not the when or why, I've got no idea. As a young boy, you never realise the severity of it all. To show you how it was: when I first went on the cattle truck I laid down on the floor and could see the trains running from the railway lines, clickety-click, click, & I said to myself: Oh, wow, isn't this an adventurous journey? My oldest brother David was a rabbi at 21. When he went to Auschwitz, I heard later on that he worked in a Sonderkommando. Have you heard of that? What happened: people used to arrive at Auschwitz & be segregated. Those that could work were put to one side, those who were not just went to the gas chamber. But what happened after the gas chamber? Who took the dead bodies from the gas chamber to the crematoria? The slaves. The Sonnderkommando. But the Sonnderkommando were not allowed to live more than 4 weeks. Every 4 weeks, they themselves were put in a gas oven. I mean. Can you imagine? I wrote a book. My wife said: why don't you do something useful? You’ve got a computer, nobody knows your life story, including your children, write your life story instead of wasting your time. So I sat down at the computer for half an hour, not knowing what to write. As I started typing, suddenly it all came out. I was 50. Until then I lived a life of denial. I thought the best way forward for me, get up from the dust, dust myself down, try not to think too much about the past because I didn't want to hurt the children or the wife. But afterwards the children kept on telling us, why didn't you tell us about it? We said: Because we didn't want to hurt you. They said: they didn't ask us because they didn't want to hurt us. But we didn't have the luxury of therapy in those days. Was it the right way to go about it? I don't know. I don't know. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Ivor Perl BEM's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, October 2024 • Learn More → Ivor Perl BEM Attempted Humiliation Auschwitz Betrayed Close Family Murdered Concentration Camp Ghetto Incarceration Not Remembering Recovery Telling The Story Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Hungary Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

977: The Cruel Guardian Maria Ault Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Maria Ault came to Britain with her younger sister Birgit on a Kindertransport in May 1939: My first guardians were fine But when we were evacuated in September 1939, we stayed with a very, very, very, very bad person who used to hit us. She didn't feed us properly. But who could we go to in Melton Mowbray? There was no Childline. She should have known better. She was a minister's wife. I was used as a cheap maid. One day, I was only 12, I was getting a lunch ready for a hotpot, which meant I had to peel onions & potatoes & carrots. And because I used the same knife for the potatoes & the onions, because I didn't change my knife, she hit me. Really hit me hard & said, ‘I've had enough of you, get out.’ It was raining. I took my sister & we walked through Melton Mowbray hand-in-hand. We had nowhere to go, nowhere at all. So, in the end, we were soaked. We went back & I think she was quite pleased to see us. I didn't tell anybody. How they ever found out, I think it might have been through my headmistress who used to have me in her study to give me extra lessons. I had my arm in a sling because my guardian was so cruel to us. I had very bad abscesses under my arm & I had my arm in a sling one day. My headmistress said, ‘Maria, what's – why are you wearing a sling?’ So, I told her. She said, ‘Let me look.’ So, she looked… She didn't ring that person up who I was staying with, she rang the doctor & said, ‘I'm taking Maria straight to the hospital.’ They said if I had – I wouldn't have lived if I had – not a few hours, because I was – it was blood poison. So we were moved, to a very nice house. But again, I was taken in as a maid. I had to leave school & be taken in as a maid. And one day I thought: is this my life? Because my parents were in Sweden, we didn't even know whether they were alive. Maria grew up in Hamburg. I was a very privileged little girl. We were brought up in a nursery with a nanny. Our house was always full of people & music. My mother was a singer & had a choir, they used to meet. And when they’d finished their tea up, my brother & I went down to the kitchen & took the cakes & ate them, which was lovely. I was strictly brought up, which was so good because when I came to England, there was no money. The very first memory I have of having a meal, they gave us fish paste sandwiches. My sister & I looked at each other & she took my hand & we went upstairs & cried our eyes out. Not because of the sandwiches, but because we’d just left our parents. But to cry over fish paste sandwiches, I laugh now, but I didn't laugh at the time. I'm so happy and so lucky that I've got a character where I say, this is what happened to you & you get on with life. But my sister was different. When she was very happily married, they emigrated to Canada. She had 2 children. And one day she couldn't stand it anymore. She had memories of when she was beaten. She used to faint, when we had that awful woman looking after us in Melton Mowbray. My sister used to be beaten & then she'd faint & it was just awful. She couldn't take it. So, unfortunately, two years ago, she wrote me a goodbye letter. We used to talk on the phone every week. We used to talk about our past & she just couldn't stand it anymore. She asked the doctor in Canada: can you take your own life? She was allowed. He gave her an overdose & she passed away two years ago, because she just couldn't stand it. It was definitely because of what happened to us. Because when she went to the psychiatrists the first time she tried to do it, he said: ‘It's all because of what happened to you in Melton Mowbray.’ I'm so happy and so lucky, so grateful that it hasn't happened to me. I remember when we first came over, in the dining car from Harwich to Liverpool Street. We were given porridge. One thing I couldn't stand was porridge, & nor could she. Her tears were rolling down her cheeks. So, when she wasn't looking, I took this porridge & ate it for her. She said, ‘I'll never, never forget it. I’ll never...’ Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Maria Ault's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, May 2024 • Learn More → Maria Ault Attempted Humiliation Domestic Service Food Foster Family Kindertransport Staying With Strangers Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts England Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

971: Equalising What Happened Dr Charlotte Feldman Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Dr Charlotte Feldman, 100-years-old at the time of her interview, came to Britain in 1939. Born in Bratislava, Charlotte remembers the rise of the antisemitic Hlinka party: They used to demonstrate in the street below us. They used to shout, ‘Jews to Palestine!’ I had a very happy childhood. I did lots of sport. My mother was very beautiful, so I’m told. My father was quite a handsome man. Charlotte travelled to the UK on New Year's Eve, 1938. I was very forward & there were two dons from Oxford on the train. I had a whale of time! Charlotte was 15 when she came to London. She lived with the Mayor of Richmond, Mr Leon, & his family, attended The Old Vicarage School & studied medicine at Leeds General Infirmary. Charlotte's father was murdered in Auschwitz. I didn't get any details. I found it difficult. Charlotte never discovered what happened to her mother. I always felt that there must be something to equalise what's happened & I always thought my long life makes up for their short lives. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Dr Charlotte Feldman's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2024 • Learn More → Dr Charlotte Feldman Attempted Humiliation Close Family Murdered Never Finding Out Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Czechoslovakia Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

969: No One In My Situation Lia Lesser Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Lia Lesser came to Britain from Prague on a Kindertransport in 1939: In 1939, my father married again in Prague. His wife was called Ola & she was a seamstress. When she came out of Auschwitz after the war she got in touch with me. I didn't remember her at all. I found it so strange because I just didn't know her. I block some things out. But I wasn't going to argue. She came out of Auschwitz on a stretcher. She was very poorly when she first came out. When she was better she got in touch. Evidently a soothsayer in the camp told her: ‘You'll be all right after the war because you'll be able to go & see Lia.’ That's what she told me. So I only know what she told me. But I don't remember her. She remembered me. She was a very nice lady, very accomplished. I've got all sorts of lace, things she crocheted. When I travelled to Britain I had two big suitcases & a label around my neck & I had a little pillow, a little blue pillow, just a tiny one, to put your head on. That's all I had. The suitcases contained just clothes. I wasn't a very dolly person, so I didn't have any dolls. I brought my schoolbooks & school report, & a little pendant of Moses giving the Law on Mount Sinai & a photograph of each of my parents but I didn't yet have the other photographs & the jewellery I got when I stayed in Prague with my stepmother Ola many years later. We spent 14 days going round offices & banks in Prague. You couldn't get your things back & you had to give money. It was a dishonest society. Then Ola said ‘Look, she's going back to England tomorrow. Please can we have her things?’ So eventually I, in a Prague bank, I got what belonged to my family, so I've got them to this day. But it was proper jewellery. People don't wear proper jewellery now. I found out what happened to my parents soon after the war. By letter. I presume they must have been gassed but nobody’s actually told me. Before I used to correspond with them. I've got some of the letters. Then we got letters through the Red Cross. They stopped in 1942. My guardian, Mouse, was very good. She always said ‘I’m not going to steal your mother’s affection. That is your mother’s.’ A very kindly lady. She didn't think that she’d keep me forever. She hoped she wouldn't have to keep me forever. She used to say, ‘If your parents are alive...’ I was staying with her elder sister, Glad, in Banstead, Surrey. And I opened- I think it was called the Picture Post magazine. The pictures in that were, [sighs] death camps, all the pictures. And, oh, [sighs] I couldn't eat certain things after that. I don't think that it really hit home exactly how dreadful things were. It’s hard, hard to think that nothing’s been learnt from the Holocaust, nothing. Well, it’s something you just [sighs] had to accept. You felt helpless to do anything about it. You just– I've always wanted to help people, whatever their circumstances, it doesn't matter what race or colour or anything else. And my guardian, she had seven sisters & a brother. I was always treated as one of the nieces & we're in touch still, & the next generations. But it was very difficult because I couldn't really talk to anybody. There wasn't anybody else in the same situation as me. But everybody was extremely kind. I made lifelong friends. You just have to do the best you can. I remembered my parents from their photographs but apart from that you could only imagine. It’s hard for a child to think that you haven't – I believe my father gave his last bit of bread for a cigarette. That's what Ola said. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Lia Lesser's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, April 2023 • Learn More → Lia Lesser Auschwitz Close Family Murdered Finding Out Helped By Non-Jews Hiding Valuables Kindertransport Nicholas Winton Kindertransport Not Remembering Recovery Red Cross Letters Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Czechoslovakia Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

July 1944: Majdanek concentration camp is liberated by Soviet troops. Rose Lebor, age 4, was there with her mother: At liberation I was four. All the executions, the beatings that they had to watch. These are things that my mother could never bring herself to tell me directly. She was lucky to have survived, but she made her own luck. Which I think some people did. They found a way, a little niche, a little something to say or to do, that would make them survive another day. She managed to get one of the Kommandants to let her out of the camp and go & work in a family in Lublin, who would give her scraps of food. It allowed us to have a little bit more & survive another day. One day at a time. She kept me with her all the time. The roll call, she would put me under the bench, then she would go out. She would stand near German women, that were not Polish, here in prison for other reasons. That probably helped her not to be selected. So it was each time hoping that she wouldn’t be selected. Hoping she can go out & do a little work & bring back a little scrap of food. Having survived such horrors, who wants to talk about it? You really want to forget about it. In ’44, when the war was nearly finished, she said that she realised that something big was happening, because all the Germans were in the courtyard burning documents. But it all happened so very quickly; they didn’t have time to burn the documents. Then all the inmates were put on trains to be taken to Auschwitz. They were emptying the camp in this way. She then pretended that she was ill. That she couldn’t possibly stand on her feet. So she was allowed to go in the van that the German was driving with the seven remaining children. This is really what saved our lives, because instead of going by train directly to Auschwitz, he went by road. And, as they were crossing, outside Krakow, in the woods the Russian tanks came through. So when the German saw the red flag, he knew his time was up. So he took out his gun & just shot himself, next to my mother. And the tank drove into this van, thinking that it was probably full of German soldiers, but it wasn’t. It was the few children & one wounded woman by that time, because she got wounded by all the glass, the splashing that happened. They didn’t know what to do with us, so they took us out of there. Put us on the side of the road. [half-laughs at the absurdity] The tank drove off. They must have gone into Krakow & told the Red Cross. Because they came & took us to an assembly place in Krakow itself, where they put everybody that they could find there, & where later on, people would search for their families. Little bits of bread. That’s all there was. Nobody had much food. A lot of them just died of hunger. They died of overwork, they died of hunger, they died of disease. She said, 'I was ill, but I got over it'. So… yes, surviving was luck, and surviving was also that I had a very strong mother. A very, very strong woman. 950: Liberation of Majdanek Rose Lebor 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 950: Liberation of Majdanek ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Rose Lebor Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Rose Lebor's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, December 2015 • Learn More → Rose Lebor Concentration Camp Liberation Majdanek Telling The Story Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Poland See Locations Full Text July 1944: Majdanek concentration camp is liberated by Soviet troops. Rose Lebor, age 4, was there with her mother: At liberation I was four. All the executions, the beatings that they had to watch. These are things that my mother could never bring herself to tell me directly. She was lucky to have survived, but she made her own luck. Which I think some people did. They found a way, a little niche, a little something to say or to do, that would make them survive another day. She managed to get one of the Kommandants to let her out of the camp and go & work in a family in Lublin, who would give her scraps of food. It allowed us to have a little bit more & survive another day. One day at a time. She kept me with her all the time. The roll call, she would put me under the bench, then she would go out. She would stand near German women, that were not Polish, here in prison for other reasons. That probably helped her not to be selected. So it was each time hoping that she wouldn’t be selected. Hoping she can go out & do a little work & bring back a little scrap of food. Having survived such horrors, who wants to talk about it? You really want to forget about it. In ’44, when the war was nearly finished, she said that she realised that something big was happening, because all the Germans were in the courtyard burning documents. But it all happened so very quickly; they didn’t have time to burn the documents. Then all the inmates were put on trains to be taken to Auschwitz. They were emptying the camp in this way. She then pretended that she was ill. That she couldn’t possibly stand on her feet. So she was allowed to go in the van that the German was driving with the seven remaining children. This is really what saved our lives, because instead of going by train directly to Auschwitz, he went by road. And, as they were crossing, outside Krakow, in the woods the Russian tanks came through. So when the German saw the red flag, he knew his time was up. So he took out his gun & just shot himself, next to my mother. And the tank drove into this van, thinking that it was probably full of German soldiers, but it wasn’t. It was the few children & one wounded woman by that time, because she got wounded by all the glass, the splashing that happened. They didn’t know what to do with us, so they took us out of there. Put us on the side of the road. [half-laughs at the absurdity] The tank drove off. They must have gone into Krakow & told the Red Cross. Because they came & took us to an assembly place in Krakow itself, where they put everybody that they could find there, & where later on, people would search for their families. Little bits of bread. That’s all there was. Nobody had much food. A lot of them just died of hunger. They died of overwork, they died of hunger, they died of disease. She said, 'I was ill, but I got over it'. So… yes, surviving was luck, and surviving was also that I had a very strong mother. A very, very strong woman. 950: Liberation of Majdanek Rose Lebor Edited from Rose Lebor's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, December 2015 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Munich, 10th March 1933 Bea Green MBE's father, Dr Michael Siegel, goes to a police station to complain on behalf of a Jewish client whose shop had been damaged, is beaten up by the police and marched round Munich, and has his image captured in a famous photo by an American journalist: I like talking. I seriously believe trying to protect your children by not telling them everything is a terrible thing. Because it makes them imagine things that could be worse than reality. So I told my children what it was like when they beat up my dad. That was the first intimation of serious antisemitism. 10th March ’33, I remember everything. I was at home with a cold & my mum had gone out shopping. In a block of flats you have laundry facilities in the basement Our maid was down there. So I was alone in the flat. I heard the key of the door at the end of the corridor. I was at the other end in my bedroom. I expected whoever it was who had come back to see if I was all right. Nobody came. Funny. I waited a while. Then I got up. I walked out through my brother’s bedroom to the corridor that led down to the front door. My brother’s bedroom door was opposite the bathroom. Outside the bathroom door I saw my father’s– he used to hang his suit there. There was his suit & his shirt all blood-drenched. What does a little girl of 8 feel? I was scared you know. It was as if I had been winded; I mean, I now think in retrospect that’s how I would describe it. I walked down the corridor. My parents’ bedroom was closed. I did something I had never done before: I knocked. Then I opened the door. I saw my father pull up his sheet so that I shouldn’t see his face. He said: 'Warte, bis deine Mutter heim kommt'—wait until your mother comes home. The word Mutter was never used, it was always Mutti. The use of that language, & seeing him pull up the sheet, the feather bed, to cover up his face. I don’t remember walking back to bed, but I remember lying on my back on my bed feeling nothing, you know, nothing. It is hard to explain & it’s hard for me to recreate, even in myself. Then my mother came back & the maid came back & my brother came back from school. At that point I knew they were protecting me from knowing what had happened, they didn’t want to tell me. Somehow this idea must have formed in my head: if I ever have children I’ll never do that, I’ll tell them. I don’t think they told me, I must have found out something. But no detail. The following day we were driven down by friends to our little house in Walchensee with our doctor. My father was very brave about it, so I knew he was all right. The fact that they protected me from the details didn’t matter so much at the time. I was 8. When I was 10 there was a polio epidemic in Munich. My parents sent me to an aunt in Luxembourg. It was that aunt who showed me the famous picture which had appeared by that time in the world press. An extraordinary thing went on in my head: I thought that she should not have shown it to me, it should have been my parents. So I learnt from it. You have to cope with whatever situation presents itself. No different from anybody else’s life. Children learn to cope with whatever their situation is. To a kid, whatever happens is normal. 945: Dad's Blood-Drenched Shirt Bea Green MBE 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 945: Dad's Blood-Drenched Shirt ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Bea Green MBE Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Bea Green MBE 's interview with Sharon Rappaport for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, June 2006 • Learn More → Bea Green MBE Arrested Attempted Humiliation Encounter With Nazi Officials Nerves of Steel Telling The Story Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany See Locations Full Text Munich, 10th March 1933 Bea Green MBE's father, Dr Michael Siegel, goes to a police station to complain on behalf of a Jewish client whose shop had been damaged, is beaten up by the police and marched round Munich, and has his image captured in a famous photo by an American journalist: I like talking. I seriously believe trying to protect your children by not telling them everything is a terrible thing. Because it makes them imagine things that could be worse than reality. So I told my children what it was like when they beat up my dad. That was the first intimation of serious antisemitism. 10th March ’33, I remember everything. I was at home with a cold & my mum had gone out shopping. In a block of flats you have laundry facilities in the basement Our maid was down there. So I was alone in the flat. I heard the key of the door at the end of the corridor. I was at the other end in my bedroom. I expected whoever it was who had come back to see if I was all right. Nobody came. Funny. I waited a while. Then I got up. I walked out through my brother’s bedroom to the corridor that led down to the front door. My brother’s bedroom door was opposite the bathroom. Outside the bathroom door I saw my father’s– he used to hang his suit there. There was his suit & his shirt all blood-drenched. What does a little girl of 8 feel? I was scared you know. It was as if I had been winded; I mean, I now think in retrospect that’s how I would describe it. I walked down the corridor. My parents’ bedroom was closed. I did something I had never done before: I knocked. Then I opened the door. I saw my father pull up his sheet so that I shouldn’t see his face. He said: 'Warte, bis deine Mutter heim kommt'—wait until your mother comes home. The word Mutter was never used, it was always Mutti. The use of that language, & seeing him pull up the sheet, the feather bed, to cover up his face. I don’t remember walking back to bed, but I remember lying on my back on my bed feeling nothing, you know, nothing. It is hard to explain & it’s hard for me to recreate, even in myself. Then my mother came back & the maid came back & my brother came back from school. At that point I knew they were protecting me from knowing what had happened, they didn’t want to tell me. Somehow this idea must have formed in my head: if I ever have children I’ll never do that, I’ll tell them. I don’t think they told me, I must have found out something. But no detail. The following day we were driven down by friends to our little house in Walchensee with our doctor. My father was very brave about it, so I knew he was all right. The fact that they protected me from the details didn’t matter so much at the time. I was 8. When I was 10 there was a polio epidemic in Munich. My parents sent me to an aunt in Luxembourg. It was that aunt who showed me the famous picture which had appeared by that time in the world press. An extraordinary thing went on in my head: I thought that she should not have shown it to me, it should have been my parents. So I learnt from it. You have to cope with whatever situation presents itself. No different from anybody else’s life. Children learn to cope with whatever their situation is. To a kid, whatever happens is normal. 945: Dad's Blood-Drenched Shirt Bea Green MBE Edited from Bea Green MBE 's interview with Sharon Rappaport for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, June 2006 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts