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960: The Awful Heydrich Reprisals May 27, 1942: Reinhard Heydrich, a principle Nazi architect of the Holocaust, was fatally shot in Prague by Czech & Slovak soldiers trained by British Intelligence. Frank Bright remembers the Prague aftermath: Frank Bright 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 Frank Bright's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2016 • Learn More → Frank Bright Attempted Humiliation Encounter With Nazi Officials Food Reprisals Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Czechoslovakia See Locations Full Text May 27, 1942: Reinhard Heydrich, a principle Nazi architect of the Holocaust, was fatally shot in Prague by Czech & Slovak soldiers trained by British Intelligence. Frank Bright remembers the Prague aftermath: Two Gestapo men came to our flat & asked where was I at the time. My mother had been indoors. I had just arrived from school. I didn’t look as if I had a gun on me. So they left, but they had to to tick their box [half-laughs]. They looked like typical Gestapo men. They didn’t wear uniform. They wore civvies. But they all wore the same outfits, the same raincoat, the same hat! You could see them from a mile. The reprisals were awful! It just wasn’t worth the candle. A whole village called Lidice was decimated, they shot all the men & took the women to concentration camps. They killed the children. A few they sent to Germany, to be with families, to be brought up as German. My friend Kurt Hirschman & his mother were sent on a transport directly to Poland & shot on arrival. They obviously had nothing to do with it. They were not sent to Theresienstadt first. This was the only transport that was sent directly to Poland, as a result of the assassination. The synagogues in Prague were used at that time as storehouses for the loot they got from the homes of people who had been deported. One of my teachers asked my father if he could prepare me for Bar Mitzvah. My father didn’t really care. He said, “Yes, if you want to” I went to see my teacher, Dr Glunsberg, a Doctor in Oriental languages. My portion was Isaiah, ‘Nachamu, nachamu ami’ [comfort, comfort my people]. I can recite it now. The day came, and they got cold feet. Because there were things like Razzias: where a group of Jews would congregate, the Gestapo would appear, arrest them all, & they would never be seen again. Razzia is an Italian word. And so they got cold feet, so nothing forward. So I had to learn a second portion. Again, Isaiah, & again I can recite it more or less. That was to be held again, at a synagogue of course. They got cold feet again. They were afraid that the Gestapo would hear of it, & they would disappear. So I had to learn a third one. Third time lucky. But that wasn’t held at a synagogue. That was held at a prayer room; this was the ‘Shtiebel’ as they called it, from the German ‘Stube’. There were only the right, minimum number—10—around. People I didn’t know, apart from my teacher. My father wasn’t there. So the atmosphere was one of fear. We had to wear a star. We had to hand in things the Army needed: anything from cameras to bicycles to woollens to typewriters to sewing machines. Musical instruments, including gramophones & records. You could whistle; that was about it. We could only shop during two hours in the afternoon, when things that were off the ration had already gone, Our rations were far, far smaller than anybody else’s. We had no allocation of fruit, or fish. Meat. No soap. We couldn’t go to a hairdresser. No onions. No clothing coupons. Everybody had to fill in a form giving every detail of their property, from the number of cups & saucers, to knives & forks to spoons, to frying pans, saucepans, ironing boards, irons, jackets, shoes & socks, chairs & tables & display cases. The lot. No vitamins & minerals. So we were susceptible to infections, no resistance. We got inflammations. I had a huge one under my arm. You'd use hot compresses to what they call ‘ripen it’ & then squeeze it out. That would heal & the next one would appear. 960: The Awful Heydrich Reprisals Frank Bright Edited from Frank Bright's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2016 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

19 March, 1944 German troops invade Hungary. Laszlo Roman is 3: It wasn't unusual for little children walking outside with their mum, if they needed a pee, going to the side of the road. I was always told I mustn’t do it because someone might see that I am circumcised. My father was in the forced labour brigade. Jews weren’t allowed in the army, they were in the munkaszolgálat labour brigade. In the east they used them to clear mines. They marched them across & blew them up so the army would be OK. My father was lucky. He stayed in Romania & eastern Hungary so he sort of came home but most of my time he wasn’t there. His photo was up on the mantelpiece. That was your dad. Once he came home & wanted to kiss me: ‘Who are you?’ He said, ‘I’m your father.’ I said, ‘No, no, no, that’s my father, the photo. You’re not my father,’ [laughs]. So that was ‘til March ’44. The first thing I really remember, after the invasion: my mother had a very fortunate nature. She never sort of said, ‘Oh, my God.’ She always smiled. I looked at her & as long as she was there, the world was fine. Then one morning they came, Nazis, the Hungarian Arrow Cross. Collaborators. Two of her sisters stayed with us: all their husbands were in the labour brigades. One morning they came & collected the 3 women & took them to the brick factory from where they were to be deported. It was a Jewish house so they came & took the 3 women there. I stayed there with my grandfather, a WW1 veteran. He lost a leg, was disabled from WW1, which gave him a certain amount of protection. But I was terribly desperate because they took my mother. As luck would have it my father came to visit us, my grandfather & me, & he was told what happened. He managed to get back to his brigade & got 3 armed men from the brigade. They went down to the brick factory to collect my mother. The guards in the brick factory said 'What the hell are you doing here, bloody Jews?’ They said they had an order requesting my mother to the kitchen of the labour brigade. So they said, ‘All right,’ & went around shouting, Aranka Roman, Aranka Roman,’ but my mother said no, she doesn’t want to leave her sisters. The sisters said, ‘No, you must go because Laszitka is at home.’ That’s me. So she came out & I got reunited with my mother. The sisters got deported & went through a lot but survived. Then I stayed with my mother. We were moved from our original address to a Jewish house. There were a lot of people in the apartment including my cousin. I was not yet 4, she was 6. Our grandfather had only one leg & we slept in the same bed. Judy occupied the legless side of the bed which was more comfortable. We still have a laugh about that. On one occasion—even then Jews were allowed half-an-hour in the morning to go out & buy bread or potatoes, whatever. I was out with my mother with my yellow star & her yellow star. Hungarian apartments are: you go in the main door & there’s a courtyard & apartments are around. As we approached we could see in the courtyard that all the women were there—the men were already in the labour brigade. All the women were there & Arrow Cross soldiers. So my mother said, ‘Hold on, we’re not going in there. Take off the yellow star, keep quiet, don’t talk’. I was not yet four. We took the tramcar which we weren’t allowed in since, I don’t know, earlier & went a few stops to where one of her sisters was in a protected house because there were these protected house. It turned out that all these women were taken down to the Danube tied together & shot & pushed into the Danube. Later on, whenever I crossed the bridges from Pest to Buda I could always see bodies floating in the river because these people were shot there. They shot them not to kill them, just to harm them so that they drowned. 943: The Legless Side Of The Bed Laszlo Roman 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 943: The Legless Side Of The Bed ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Laszlo Roman Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Marianne Summerfield BEM's interview with Clare Csonka for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, June 2022 • Learn More → Laszlo Roman Arrow Cross Forced Labour Jewish House Near Escape Nerves of Steel Reunited Yellow Star Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Hungary See Locations Full Text 19 March, 1944 German troops invade Hungary. Laszlo Roman is 3: It wasn't unusual for little children walking outside with their mum, if they needed a pee, going to the side of the road. I was always told I mustn’t do it because someone might see that I am circumcised. My father was in the forced labour brigade. Jews weren’t allowed in the army, they were in the munkaszolgálat labour brigade. In the east they used them to clear mines. They marched them across & blew them up so the army would be OK. My father was lucky. He stayed in Romania & eastern Hungary so he sort of came home but most of my time he wasn’t there. His photo was up on the mantelpiece. That was your dad. Once he came home & wanted to kiss me: ‘Who are you?’ He said, ‘I’m your father.’ I said, ‘No, no, no, that’s my father, the photo. You’re not my father,’ [laughs]. So that was ‘til March ’44. The first thing I really remember, after the invasion: my mother had a very fortunate nature. She never sort of said, ‘Oh, my God.’ She always smiled. I looked at her & as long as she was there, the world was fine. Then one morning they came, Nazis, the Hungarian Arrow Cross. Collaborators. Two of her sisters stayed with us: all their husbands were in the labour brigades. One morning they came & collected the 3 women & took them to the brick factory from where they were to be deported. It was a Jewish house so they came & took the 3 women there. I stayed there with my grandfather, a WW1 veteran. He lost a leg, was disabled from WW1, which gave him a certain amount of protection. But I was terribly desperate because they took my mother. As luck would have it my father came to visit us, my grandfather & me, & he was told what happened. He managed to get back to his brigade & got 3 armed men from the brigade. They went down to the brick factory to collect my mother. The guards in the brick factory said 'What the hell are you doing here, bloody Jews?’ They said they had an order requesting my mother to the kitchen of the labour brigade. So they said, ‘All right,’ & went around shouting, Aranka Roman, Aranka Roman,’ but my mother said no, she doesn’t want to leave her sisters. The sisters said, ‘No, you must go because Laszitka is at home.’ That’s me. So she came out & I got reunited with my mother. The sisters got deported & went through a lot but survived. Then I stayed with my mother. We were moved from our original address to a Jewish house. There were a lot of people in the apartment including my cousin. I was not yet 4, she was 6. Our grandfather had only one leg & we slept in the same bed. Judy occupied the legless side of the bed which was more comfortable. We still have a laugh about that. On one occasion—even then Jews were allowed half-an-hour in the morning to go out & buy bread or potatoes, whatever. I was out with my mother with my yellow star & her yellow star. Hungarian apartments are: you go in the main door & there’s a courtyard & apartments are around. As we approached we could see in the courtyard that all the women were there—the men were already in the labour brigade. All the women were there & Arrow Cross soldiers. So my mother said, ‘Hold on, we’re not going in there. Take off the yellow star, keep quiet, don’t talk’. I was not yet four. We took the tramcar which we weren’t allowed in since, I don’t know, earlier & went a few stops to where one of her sisters was in a protected house because there were these protected house. It turned out that all these women were taken down to the Danube tied together & shot & pushed into the Danube. Later on, whenever I crossed the bridges from Pest to Buda I could always see bodies floating in the river because these people were shot there. They shot them not to kill them, just to harm them so that they drowned. 943: The Legless Side Of The Bed Laszlo Roman Edited from Marianne Summerfield BEM's interview with Clare Csonka for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, June 2022 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Ravensbrück Memories 935: Starting To Speak Mala Tribich MBE Talking about my experiences was a very gradual process. Before no one was talking & no one asked... Read Full Memory 936: Why It's Necessary To Talk & Write Selma van de Perre I didn’t speak at all the first 30 years! To anyone or anything or myself. It was in 1975 with the opening of the Ravensbrück Memorial... Read Full Memory 953: Slave Labour In Ravensbrück Selma van de Perre They transported us to Ravensbrück. Terrible. Screaming, shouting, dogs & whips. The dogs had the same clothes as the soldiers... Read Full Memory Previous Experience Next Experience

John Goldsmith came to Britain in 1937 after the murder of his stepfather & went to The Leys School in Cambridge: I'd been there 3 years, when in 1940, on my 16th birthday, I was writing an English essay & looking through the window & I saw a policeman walking on the grass which we weren’t allowed to do, towards the Head Master’s house. I knew what was happening, because another German refugee, he had his birthday a short time before me, & he'd been rushed away on his 16th birthday so I knew that it meant internment. The policeman came back with the Head Master who was very nice. He said, “I am sorry you have to go away for a few days.” The police were nice, I didn’t finish my essay. They said, “Just collect a few things to last you a few days.” My mother packed a bag for me & we went by car to Bury St Edmunds, to what must have been an army camp. After a few days we were taken by train to Liverpool. From Lime Street we had to walk, carrying our luggage to a huge TA hall, which no longer exists, & on the way there there were cat calls, “bloody, bloody, bloody Germans” etc. Not anti-Jewish but anti-German. They had no idea who we were, that we were refugees, which brings me round to another point which is that the internment policy in WW2 was just as stupid as in WW1. They hadn’t learned any lessons. It was in response to the gutter press. We had an Italian in our camp who had been in the country for 25 years & never taken out naturalisation papers & his son was serving in the British army. Things like that. Anyway, from that TA camp we were taken to a place called Huyton, on the outskirts of Liverpool. The younger ones were put in tents in the gardens. I was hungry. There wasn’t enough food. From Huyton we were taken to the Isle of Man. From there we were taken by train one day in July 1940, no warning of course, to Greenock, near Glasgow, onto a ship called Sobieski. From there we were taken across the Atlantic up the Saint Lawrence River to Montreal. On the ship there was a man I'd known in Cambridge, a patient of my mother’s, a very intelligent chap, a political refugee from Germany, not Jewish. He'd served on the left wing side in the Spanish Civil War & been interned in France & then come to England. Now he was interned again. He was very knowledgeable chap. Also a very much do-it-yourself chap. He found a piece of sailcloth & made me a pair of shorts on the ship which I treasured for many years. They were a bit stiff, rather like denim. But very useful during my internment in the summer. On the ship there were also German prisoners of war. We were separated thank God. From Montreal we were taken to a place by train to a place called Trois-Rivières, three rivers. We were accommodated in a football stadium for a day or two, & we went again by train to a huge camp which was being built amongst pine woods & birch woods of Canada, quite near the American border I believe. The camp it wasn’t quite ready yet. There was one water tap for about 600 people. If you wanted a wash you had to start queuing up at about 2 in the morning but that was soon remedied. They didn’t have the roofs on either, but it was summer & that didn’t matter. I quite enjoyed the camp. We were sent out in groups to cut down trees for firewood. The huts, later in the winter, were heated by wood burning stoves & ultimately there wasn’t enough food there. We did have the Kaiser’s grandson who was a student at Oxford, he was one of the internees. I nearly chopped my leg off once. Then a commissioner called Hamilton was sent by the Home Office, who'd realised it had been really rather stupid in interning all these refugees, some of whom had actually been in a German concentration camp. He interviewed us all individually & offered some of us release. So in mid January 1941 we were taken again by ship to Liverpool. I ended up at the Adelphi to make a phone call to my mother to say I was back. My voice had broken in Canada, I had no money, so I had to ask if my mother would accept a reverse charge call from Liverpool. My mother thought it was probably some poor refugee who hadn’t got any money. Of course she was quite right, but she wouldn’t believe at first it was me because my voice had broken. I told her that the next day I would be arriving in Cambridge & she did something which for her was quite unusual, she cancelled a patient so she could meet me at the station. Only one patient mind you! She met me at the station & we were both delighted. 952: Interned On My 16th Birthday John Goldsmith 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 952: Interned On My 16th Birthday ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → John Goldsmith Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from John Goldsmith's interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, June 2003 • Learn More → John Goldsmith British Internment Canadian Internment Isle Of Man Internment Reunited Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Canada See Locations Full Text John Goldsmith came to Britain in 1937 after the murder of his stepfather & went to The Leys School in Cambridge: I'd been there 3 years, when in 1940, on my 16th birthday, I was writing an English essay & looking through the window & I saw a policeman walking on the grass which we weren’t allowed to do, towards the Head Master’s house. I knew what was happening, because another German refugee, he had his birthday a short time before me, & he'd been rushed away on his 16th birthday so I knew that it meant internment. The policeman came back with the Head Master who was very nice. He said, “I am sorry you have to go away for a few days.” The police were nice, I didn’t finish my essay. They said, “Just collect a few things to last you a few days.” My mother packed a bag for me & we went by car to Bury St Edmunds, to what must have been an army camp. After a few days we were taken by train to Liverpool. From Lime Street we had to walk, carrying our luggage to a huge TA hall, which no longer exists, & on the way there there were cat calls, “bloody, bloody, bloody Germans” etc. Not anti-Jewish but anti-German. They had no idea who we were, that we were refugees, which brings me round to another point which is that the internment policy in WW2 was just as stupid as in WW1. They hadn’t learned any lessons. It was in response to the gutter press. We had an Italian in our camp who had been in the country for 25 years & never taken out naturalisation papers & his son was serving in the British army. Things like that. Anyway, from that TA camp we were taken to a place called Huyton, on the outskirts of Liverpool. The younger ones were put in tents in the gardens. I was hungry. There wasn’t enough food. From Huyton we were taken to the Isle of Man. From there we were taken by train one day in July 1940, no warning of course, to Greenock, near Glasgow, onto a ship called Sobieski. From there we were taken across the Atlantic up the Saint Lawrence River to Montreal. On the ship there was a man I'd known in Cambridge, a patient of my mother’s, a very intelligent chap, a political refugee from Germany, not Jewish. He'd served on the left wing side in the Spanish Civil War & been interned in France & then come to England. Now he was interned again. He was very knowledgeable chap. Also a very much do-it-yourself chap. He found a piece of sailcloth & made me a pair of shorts on the ship which I treasured for many years. They were a bit stiff, rather like denim. But very useful during my internment in the summer. On the ship there were also German prisoners of war. We were separated thank God. From Montreal we were taken to a place by train to a place called Trois-Rivières, three rivers. We were accommodated in a football stadium for a day or two, & we went again by train to a huge camp which was being built amongst pine woods & birch woods of Canada, quite near the American border I believe. The camp it wasn’t quite ready yet. There was one water tap for about 600 people. If you wanted a wash you had to start queuing up at about 2 in the morning but that was soon remedied. They didn’t have the roofs on either, but it was summer & that didn’t matter. I quite enjoyed the camp. We were sent out in groups to cut down trees for firewood. The huts, later in the winter, were heated by wood burning stoves & ultimately there wasn’t enough food there. We did have the Kaiser’s grandson who was a student at Oxford, he was one of the internees. I nearly chopped my leg off once. Then a commissioner called Hamilton was sent by the Home Office, who'd realised it had been really rather stupid in interning all these refugees, some of whom had actually been in a German concentration camp. He interviewed us all individually & offered some of us release. So in mid January 1941 we were taken again by ship to Liverpool. I ended up at the Adelphi to make a phone call to my mother to say I was back. My voice had broken in Canada, I had no money, so I had to ask if my mother would accept a reverse charge call from Liverpool. My mother thought it was probably some poor refugee who hadn’t got any money. Of course she was quite right, but she wouldn’t believe at first it was me because my voice had broken. I told her that the next day I would be arriving in Cambridge & she did something which for her was quite unusual, she cancelled a patient so she could meet me at the station. Only one patient mind you! She met me at the station & we were both delighted. 952: Interned On My 16th Birthday John Goldsmith Edited from John Goldsmith's interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, June 2003 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Lilly Lampert came to Britain from Vienna on a Kindertransport in 1939: All I know: I wanted to come to England to be with my sister Gertie. I didn't know I wasn't going to see my parents again, because they landed up in Theresienstadt. I shared a bedroom with my parents until my sister left & then I got her room. She came to England 6 months before me. She got somebody to guarantee me, because in those days you couldn't just come to England. She had a hell of a job to get somebody to put £50 pounds forward. I was always doing things. Playing with my dolls, making dolls clothes. Television stops all that, a lot of things I used to do. I brought 2 suitcases. Clothes & one doll. You know, you can't just bring things to England. It had to be a certain weight only. When Hitler marched in, they welcomed him with open arms, didn’t they, the Viennese? That's all I really remember. Things were hidden from me, because I was a little girl. Now all the young kids, they know everything. But in those days, anything not nice was sheltered. My parents were going to follow me. My sister tried desperately to find somebody to – for my mother to be a cook somewhere & my father, a gardener, which he'd never done his life before. But somebody had to say, ‘Yes, he can come & do my garden’, just to get out. But war came. The train ride was at night time. We left on the 13th. I always tell people 13 must be lucky for me, otherwise I wouldn't be alive. I wouldn't have left Vienna. I would be dead like the rest of my family. It was just a normal journey. I was 9. My sister met me at the station. She took me back to her place, one room somewhere. She went to Bloomsbury House. They managed to find me a place in The Beacon in Rusthall. A girl's hostel. She put me on the train & someone met me on the other side. I must have been quite nervous. You don't know the language. You don't know where you are. Terrible, but I survived. But we had three lakes. It was a lovely place we lived in. Now it's a sort of hotel. Five days after I arrived someone I knew from Vienna came there. Mela. She was thrilled to see me. We became good friends until she died. Most people either were German or Austrian. From Czechoslovakia we got one or two. They discouraged us to speak German. They wanted us to speak English. We were quite happy there. I stayed till I came to London in 1947. It was a lovely place & they were nice to us. Most of them. We had snakes in the garden. Mainly grass snakes, apparently. But a snake is a snake, isn't it? They always told us they were only grass snakes, but I wasn't so sure. I couldn't write letters to my parents anymore under normal postage, it had to go through the Red Cross. Only a certain amount of words. I had to write it in an office in Tunbridge Wells, tell them the words. They wrote them down. All I was allowed to do is sign my name, wasn't allowed to even write it myself. Send it to Vienna & my parents answered on the same bit of paper. It's like a boarding school, only a bit rougher. No luxuries. It was quite impersonal, because the staff really, I think they did it just for money. They didn't care for us. There was one matron we quite liked, Mrs Fisher. She was nice because she had her own daughter there. They squashed us in, about 8 in a room. It's not nice sleeping with so many people, squashed in very close to each other. It's hard to remember VE Day because I've wiped these memories out. I don't think about them anymore. It's a different world. Everyone was happy, I suppose. After the war, in 1946, I got a letter from my mother. She wrote that letter in 1943 & gave it to an aunt of mine who was in the concentration camp with her. This aunt survived, went to America & she sent me the letter that my mother wrote. My father was already dead. It says she's now all alone & would bear anything if she could see me for just a second. She must have been very, very, very low. It hurts when you read a thing like that. You should never know anything like that again happening. But it still goes on. That's all I can tell you. 994: Grass Snakes At The Beacon Lilly Lampert 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 994: Grass Snakes At The Beacon ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Lilly Lampert Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Lilly Lampert's interview with Deborah Koder for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, April 2024 • Learn More → Lilly Lampert Boarder Close Family Murdered Homesick Hostel Kindertransport Red Cross Letters Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts England See Locations Full Text Lilly Lampert came to Britain from Vienna on a Kindertransport in 1939: All I know: I wanted to come to England to be with my sister Gertie. I didn't know I wasn't going to see my parents again, because they landed up in Theresienstadt. I shared a bedroom with my parents until my sister left & then I got her room. She came to England 6 months before me. She got somebody to guarantee me, because in those days you couldn't just come to England. She had a hell of a job to get somebody to put £50 pounds forward. I was always doing things. Playing with my dolls, making dolls clothes. Television stops all that, a lot of things I used to do. I brought 2 suitcases. Clothes & one doll. You know, you can't just bring things to England. It had to be a certain weight only. When Hitler marched in, they welcomed him with open arms, didn’t they, the Viennese? That's all I really remember. Things were hidden from me, because I was a little girl. Now all the young kids, they know everything. But in those days, anything not nice was sheltered. My parents were going to follow me. My sister tried desperately to find somebody to – for my mother to be a cook somewhere & my father, a gardener, which he'd never done his life before. But somebody had to say, ‘Yes, he can come & do my garden’, just to get out. But war came. The train ride was at night time. We left on the 13th. I always tell people 13 must be lucky for me, otherwise I wouldn't be alive. I wouldn't have left Vienna. I would be dead like the rest of my family. It was just a normal journey. I was 9. My sister met me at the station. She took me back to her place, one room somewhere. She went to Bloomsbury House. They managed to find me a place in The Beacon in Rusthall. A girl's hostel. She put me on the train & someone met me on the other side. I must have been quite nervous. You don't know the language. You don't know where you are. Terrible, but I survived. But we had three lakes. It was a lovely place we lived in. Now it's a sort of hotel. Five days after I arrived someone I knew from Vienna came there. Mela. She was thrilled to see me. We became good friends until she died. Most people either were German or Austrian. From Czechoslovakia we got one or two. They discouraged us to speak German. They wanted us to speak English. We were quite happy there. I stayed till I came to London in 1947. It was a lovely place & they were nice to us. Most of them. We had snakes in the garden. Mainly grass snakes, apparently. But a snake is a snake, isn't it? They always told us they were only grass snakes, but I wasn't so sure. I couldn't write letters to my parents anymore under normal postage, it had to go through the Red Cross. Only a certain amount of words. I had to write it in an office in Tunbridge Wells, tell them the words. They wrote them down. All I was allowed to do is sign my name, wasn't allowed to even write it myself. Send it to Vienna & my parents answered on the same bit of paper. It's like a boarding school, only a bit rougher. No luxuries. It was quite impersonal, because the staff really, I think they did it just for money. They didn't care for us. There was one matron we quite liked, Mrs Fisher. She was nice because she had her own daughter there. They squashed us in, about 8 in a room. It's not nice sleeping with so many people, squashed in very close to each other. It's hard to remember VE Day because I've wiped these memories out. I don't think about them anymore. It's a different world. Everyone was happy, I suppose. After the war, in 1946, I got a letter from my mother. She wrote that letter in 1943 & gave it to an aunt of mine who was in the concentration camp with her. This aunt survived, went to America & she sent me the letter that my mother wrote. My father was already dead. It says she's now all alone & would bear anything if she could see me for just a second. She must have been very, very, very low. It hurts when you read a thing like that. You should never know anything like that again happening. But it still goes on. That's all I can tell you. 994: Grass Snakes At The Beacon Lilly Lampert Adapted from Lilly Lampert's interview with Deborah Koder for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, April 2024 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

968: How To Talk Without Crying 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

Poland Krakow Memories 950: Liberation of Majdanek Rose Lebor At liberation I was four. All the executions, the beatings that they had to watch. My mother could never bring herself to tell me... Previous Location Next Location

Jacques Weisser BEM was born in Antwerp in February 1942. In August 1942, after his parents' deportation to camps, Jacques was sent to Meisjeshuis orphanage, Sint-Erasmus hospital & then Baron de Castro orphanage, before being hidden in the Ardennes by the Resistance: I have absolutely no memory of any kind whatsoever about the war other than what I have been told, either by family, but most importantly by the research of other people, especially a young man called Reinier Heinsman who enabled me to find out a lot more about my background. I want to educate, and I’m positive. But there are times when the burden of being Jewish is heavy. But how can I educate when I can’t explain to people what I went through but don't remember? You can only tell the story of what you know happened through the mouth of others. Some things I do remember: these big red goose eiderdowns. Great big things shielded with goose feathers to keep warm. There was no heating. And I remember being wrapped up in brown paper with butter. I think it was at the time I had polio. Why weren’t all us children sent off to Auschwitz? A German edict said that any children under 3 years old, who did not have living parents, would not be sent to Auschwitz. Babies of 6 months, were sent, we were not. An unbelievable edict that most people cannot understand. 924: The Babies Not Sent To Auschwitz 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 924: The Babies Not Sent To Auschwitz ← 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 Auschwitz Helped By Non-Jews Hidden Child In Hiding Never Finding Out Not Remembering Resistance Staying With Strangers Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Belgium See Locations Full Text Jacques Weisser BEM was born in Antwerp in February 1942. In August 1942, after his parents' deportation to camps, Jacques was sent to Meisjeshuis orphanage, Sint-Erasmus hospital & then Baron de Castro orphanage, before being hidden in the Ardennes by the Resistance: I have absolutely no memory of any kind whatsoever about the war other than what I have been told, either by family, but most importantly by the research of other people, especially a young man called Reinier Heinsman who enabled me to find out a lot more about my background. I want to educate, and I’m positive. But there are times when the burden of being Jewish is heavy. But how can I educate when I can’t explain to people what I went through but don't remember? You can only tell the story of what you know happened through the mouth of others. Some things I do remember: these big red goose eiderdowns. Great big things shielded with goose feathers to keep warm. There was no heating. And I remember being wrapped up in brown paper with butter. I think it was at the time I had polio. Why weren’t all us children sent off to Auschwitz? A German edict said that any children under 3 years old, who did not have living parents, would not be sent to Auschwitz. Babies of 6 months, were sent, we were not. An unbelievable edict that most people cannot understand. 924: The Babies Not Sent To Auschwitz 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

958: Discovering I Was Jewish John Dobai, Budapest: John Dobai 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 John Dobai's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, June 2017 • Learn More → John Dobai Asked To Leave School Attempted Humiliation Converted To Christianity Dismissed From Job Finding Out Forced Labour Yellow Star Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Hungary See Locations Full Text John Dobai, Budapest: I was born in 1934. Hitler came to power in 1933. My parents thought that by changing their religion, which didn't have much meaning for them anyway, at least it might produce some sort of saving, at least for me. But of course, they were wrong. We started school in 1940. By then Hungary was part of the German invasion of Czechoslovakia. There was very strong antisemitic propaganda. Because my parents & my friends' parents didn't tell us we were Jews, we became antisemitic as well. It seemed the normal thing to do. There were posters on the wall of people with blood dripping from their hands, sitting on bags of money, saying 'Jews are robbing you of your life'. WW2 broke out. A flood of refugees came south through Poland, the Czech Republic, Slovakia & Hungary. These were Orthodox Jews wearing tall hats, with the ringlets & beards & long black coats, various things round their waist. Hungarian Jews did their best to help. But at the same time said: 'This is never going to happen to us; we're Hungarians who happen to be Jewish. We've done military service We've contributed to the country. Nobody's going to harm us'. In 1941, Hungary followed Germany in declaring war on the Soviet Union. My father was called up as an officer. Off he went to war. But two months later the Hungarian parliament passed the Second Jewish Law which declared that people who are declared to be Jews, cannot be officers in the Hungarian Army. So he was dismissed & came home. My parents couldn't bring themselves to explain it to me. They said: 'This is another part of the Army service where they don’t wear a uniform'. We didn't have any money. Rich people could buy exit visas & so forth. We didn't have that. My father said, “We just have to do our best to live through this.' A couple of months later, he was sent off to a labour camp in northeast Hungary—a place called Munkacs. March 1944: the German Army enters Hungary. It was a school holiday around that time. A few days after I met a classmate & said 'I'm looking forward to going back to school'. He said he was going to go back to school but not me: his father told him I'm a dirty stinking Jew. Although I was ten, I started to cry. I rushed back to my mother. That was when she told me that we, in fact, come from a Jewish family. A few days later there came out vast posters, detailing the anti-Jewish legislation. You had to hand in your bank accounts, your precious stones, any gold, hand over motor cars, cameras, radios, carpets—anything of value. Of course, we couldn't go to school. The Royal Air Force had to bomb Budapest. The Germans put an anti-aircraft battery near the house, so it was very frightening. I was totally devastated, because the antisemitic propaganda was so strong, that I felt totally degraded. That I was somehow… dirty. You know. That I was covered in dirt. That I was dishonest. That I was rude & that I didn't behave properly to my friends. In every way, I was declared to be rubbish. It was a huge blow. And... you know, to have to walk with this yellow star. We were not allowed to share the pavement with non-Jews. If you have this star on, you have to get into the gutter, because you are not allowed to walk with non-Jews on the same pavement. So, this was all very, very degrading. Three weeks later, we were told to leave our flat taking only what we could carry & move into a villa with 12 parents & 12 children. We were fortunate; it was a detached villa with a garden. So we the children could play. Although we could not play near the front garden, because people would throw stones at us or spit. So, we tended to play in the back. The parents organised lessons for the children, & games to try & live a normal sort of life. For a short while. 958: Discovering I Was Jewish John Dobai Edited from John Dobai's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, June 2017 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Swedish Recuperation Memories 928: Goodness Kindness & Helpfulness Susan Pollack OBE I never exchanged a word with anyone. I was on my own, withdrawn within myself. If you'd been found talking to someone, you'd have been shot... Read Full Memory 949: Liberation of Bergen-Belsen Susan Pollack OBE We were not human beings anymore. We were reduced to being animals - maybe more. That’s how it was. We were just – no feelings... Read Full Memory 972: Discovering My Brother Was Alive Mala Tribich MBE One day I got a letter from my brother Ben. We were in this stately home with all its beauty, I opened it, I read it & was so excited... Read Full Memory 974: How To Recover Susan Pollack OBE 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... Read Full Memory Previous Experience Next Experience

Marianne Summerfield BEM Read full biography at The AJR / Refugee Voices Testimony Archive Memories 990: The Shock Marianne Summerfield BEM My father was asked to report to Nazi headquarters. Stupidly, although my mother told him not to, he just walked into it... Read Full Memory Previous Person Next Person

989: Buying Sauerkraut & Soap Eva Mendelsson, Offenburg, November 9, 1938: Eva Mendelsson 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 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