John Goldsmith Read full biography at The AJR / Refugee Voices Testimony Archive Memories 952: Interned On My 16th Birthday John Goldsmith In 1940, on my 16th birthday, I was writing an English essay & looking through the window & I saw a policeman... Read Full Memory Previous Person Next Person

965: Wounded Animals On The Farm Walter Kammerling Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Walter Kammerling arrived in the UK in 1938 on a Kindertransport from Vienna, was sent to Gorman's Farm in Northern Ireland on arrival & stayed there until 1942: 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 half a hundredweight of brussels sprout. You can’t do it with gloves, because it’s all wet & it’s all... You pick it up & the bag’s half full, and you think, “Well that’s probably half a hundredweight'. And it’s so light. The weight of brussel sprouts is... enormously low. I didn’t like it at all. And, oh, when you for instance you have to weed out the carrots. The carrot plants are only about an inch high. The weeds are about three inches high, and you can’t see them. After four hours your back’s breaking & you look up, and you’ve only done about three metres or so. You still can’t see the end of the field. I didn’t like that at all. I liked the harvesting. I liked the work with the chickens. That’s OK - with animals. But on the whole, I was quite happy there. It was OK. There were about 30 of us. Though we lived and worked and joked together, we didn’t know each other. Nobody really opened up. It was like – like- like wounded animals licking their wounds, you see? Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Walter Kammerling's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, September 2016 • Learn More → Walter Kammerling Agricultural Labour Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Northern Ireland Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

Czechoslovakia Bratislava Memories 971: Equalising What Happened Dr Charlotte Feldman They used to demonstrate in the street below us. They used to shout, ‘Jews to Palestine!’ I had a very happy childhood... 997: My Mother & Father Trude Silman MBE 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... Previous Location Next Location

Benno Stern Read full biography at The AJR / Refugee Voices Testimony Archive Memories 946: Being Stateless Is An Advantage Benno Stern My father, by a great stroke of fortune, was made stateless by Poland because he’d fled the country. It worked to our advantage... Read Full Memory Previous Person Next Person

Hungary Rákospalota 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 Location Next Location

Simon Jochnowitz Read full biography at The AJR / Refugee Voices Testimony Archive Memories 978: Hitler On The Loudspeakers Simon Jochnowitz I remember Hitler on all the loudspeakers everywhere. You couldn’t escape it. I remember being in bed & saying “Oh I can’t sleep, I can't sleep... Read Full Memory Previous Person Next Person

Laszlo Roman Read full biography at The AJR / Refugee Voices Testimony Archive Memories 943: The Legless Side Of The Bed Laszlo Roman I was always told I mustn’t pee by the side of the road because someone might see that I am circumcised... Read Full Memory Previous Person Next Person

961: Having My Revenge Willy Field Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Willie Field, born in Germany, took part in the D-Day Landings for the British Army: That was the best thing that could happen to me. After all, I was a refugee from Nazi oppression. I wanted to have my revenge and I had my revenge. That was a wonderful feeling. Willie joined the army in Australia, where he'd been sent on the HMT Dunera to be interned by the British government: It was ridiculous to send people who were refugees from Nazi oppression there. Finally, they sent a gentleman from the Home Office to Australia. His name was Major Layton. He tried to persuade young people to join the Pioneer Corps & come back to England. Of course, all of us youngsters immediately volunteered. We landed in Liverpool, where we were sworn in to be soldiers. We were given a pass & told that in ten days we have to report to Ilfracombe to join the Pioneer Corps. We were trained there. It was quite comical because most of us couldn't speak proper English. I must compare it with "Dad's Army" if you want me to be honest with you. We didn't have rifles or guns or anything. We had broomsticks, things like that. At least we were in the British Army & we were somebody. It was something I always wanted to do. From then on we were split up & sent to various Companies. I was sent, with one or two of my friends, to a company near Oxford - 65 Company. We had to build huts & roads. Then I was sent to Internee 149 Company at Catterick Camp. It was always the same: building huts or building canvas & that was not what I really wanted to do. I was 22 years old & thought I could be doing better things than building huts etc. Then, all of a sudden, they called us in & said, "You don't have to, but, if you want, you can join the fighting forces." I thought, now is my time, so that is what I did. I was thinking, "What shall I join? The infantry? No, I don't want to start walking". So, I said I wanted to go into the tank, the Royal Armoured Corps. I applied but you don't hear anything. After about a month, the Commanding Officer called me in & said, "You have been accepted for the RAC, but you have got to go on a test." I said, "That's all right." They sent me to Aberystwyth for a week. They gave us mental & physical tests. I was accepted. Eventually I was sent to Ilfracombe to the RAC & trained as a tank driver. I changed my ordinary Pioneer hat to a black beret with a tank on there. I was so proud you can't imagine. I used to walk through Ilfracombe & think: at last now I can do a bit of fighting. I passed my tank driving test & was sent to Norfolk, Thetford, to the King's 8th Royal Irish Hussars. I was of good German origin & was accepted by them as their own. I had no problems. Nothing. I was given a tank & a crew. A tank crew consists of a tank driver, a co-driver, a wireless operator, a gunner & a commander. We trained to get ready for the D-Day landing. I was the tank driver. The tank driver's job was to look after the tank, ensure everything's all right, that there is always enough petrol. The best thing that happened in my life. Not only it was the comradeship, it was wonderful - completely different from the Pioneer Corps. You are somebody then. No anti-Semitism. They knew I was Jewish, originally from Germany. I was absolutely like one of them. We trained & eventually went to Bognor Regis & got our tank ready for the D-Day landing. The D-Day landing we took part. I was always with them. I took part at the Normandy Landing it is called. We landed and I was with them. It was a wonderful thing for me arriving in France & taking German prisoners. For me that was one thing I always wanted to do ever since I left Germany. A wonderful feeling & wonderful comradeship. We went right through to Holland & here comes the sad part I'm afraid. We were always together with my five, we lived together. On the way to Nijmegen & Arnhem, my tank was knocked out by a German 88 gun &, unfortunately, everybody was killed except me. A dreadful thing. I managed to try to save the gunner operator. He had his leg already off, his arm was half off but he was still alive. I got him behind the tank & managed to get the ambulance boys to pick him up. I couldn't pick him up. I was wounded myself, but it was a blessing he died on the way. That was a terrible thing. I was in hospital for a few days. But, like everything, if you fall off a bicycle you get on the bicycle straight away. They gave me another tank. I went through to Hamburg & we took Hamburg. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Willy Field's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, September 2003 • Learn More → Willy Field Australian Internment British Army British Internment HMT Dunera Nerves of Steel Recovery Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts France Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

981: 4th of the 4th, 1944 Jack Cynamon Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Jack Cynamon came to Britain in 1945 after spending part of WW2 in hiding in Belgium: My first recollection is aeroplanes in the sky in Brussels. One morning the sky was full of aeroplanes. There must have been 60. We didn't know what to do. My parents packed a few things, went to the railway station & embarked on the train, in a cattle truck with straw. The train went on & on for 5 days. They were fed by people at the stations, with food & water, they carried on until they reached the Pyrenees. My father worked on a potato farm, they both did, picking potatoes for a farmer, stayed there for about two months & then returned to Brussels because they found out that things weren’t as bad as originally thought. Actually, things were not so bad in Belgium until 1942. I can’t recollect going to school but I must have gone to school of some form. Then in '42 things started to get really tough. We all had to start wearing a Star of David. We were registered as Jews. My mother & father decided to try & escape. First they tried to get to Spain. They found a guide, he took them all but at the border he decided to take their money & leave them. Then we came back to Belgium, & then they tried again. They tried a second time to escape to Switzerland & again the guide took their money & left them at the border. Then things in Belgium became really desperate. They decided to start going to a hiding place. The only way they had currency, my mother had small diamonds & a specially made shoe. She hid the diamonds in the heel of this specially made shoe. Then they went into hiding. The person that looked after them was a guy by the name of Cnudde. He worked for my father & was able to bring food & the like. He hid them in an attic, I’m not sure where. I was in that attic as well. Then they realised that they could not keep me in an attic. I was 8. I was too – I wanted to run & do things & do what boys do. So one day I remember walking along & we came along to a church & my father said goodbye to me & they left me with a priest, & that was the very last time I saw my father. I vaguely remember saying a sort of goodbye. That was it. The very last time I saw my father. I became a choirboy, in a very lovely place – with other children. I became a choirboy, with all the bells & whistles & everything else. I had blue eyes & blonde hair, I blended in. I can’t recollect anybody or any of the things that I did when I was there. I was sort of in a – in a quandary. I didn't know what was what. You just go with the flow. I remember being liberated in 1944, the German army leaving, using horse-drawn carriages, pulling big guns. I recall very vividly that same afternoon the American tanks coming into view. 6 tanks & a jeep. They showered us with sweets & chewing gum. My parents were still in hiding. One day there was a bang on the door because the Germans were doing a house-to-house search for Jews. There was a banging on the door & the Gestapo came in & discovered them. My mother tells me that the very last words my father said to my mother was [gets upset] she was – it's painful. It’s emotional. 'If you ever find Jackie, promise me he will be bar mitzvahed'. He was taken to Mechelen, a holding camp & then to Auschwitz, in one of the very last transports: on the fourth of the fourth, 1944. So many times I wake up at 4:44 in the morning, thinking about him, a very significant number for me. I woke up this morning with the same. My mother was British-born so she went to an intern camp, finished up in La Bourboule which is in the Massif Central, which is really quite a nice place. I joined her there after the war. I was in Brussels & out comes my mother. I was, to be truthful, I was horrified. She wanted me to go back with her. I didn't want to. I wanted to stay with the church, with the priest who loved me. My mother was at that stage a sort of a stranger. I hadn’t seen her for 2½ years." Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Jack Cynamon's interview with Thamar Barnett for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, July 2024 • Learn More → Jack Cynamon Betrayed Close Family Murdered Helped By Non-Jews Hidden Child Hiding Valuables In Hiding Liberation Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Belgium Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

USA New York Memories 970: Mother's Death At Our Liberation Mirjam Finkelstein By January 1945 there were rumours. People got quite excited. There was a wooden table, we had to walk past the camp doctor... Previous Location Next Location

England Melton Mowbray 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... Previous Location Next Location

Algeria Oran Memories 933: Interned In Algeria Erna Klein One Arabic sentence helped a lot. It meant: ‘Are you drunk or whatever is the matter with you?’ That helped me out of a few difficult situations... Previous Location Next Location