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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

Germany Guben 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... 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... Previous Location Next Location

Netherlands Arnhem Memories 961: Having My Revenge Willy Field I was a refugee from Nazi oppression. I wanted to have my revenge & I had my revenge. That was a wonderful feeling... 962: Speaking German With An English Accent Charles Danson I'd been the wireless operator for quite some time, so I said to my comrade ‘Let’s change over now’... Previous Location Next Location

Poland Auschwitz Memories 925: Finding Something Good In Everything Ursula Gilbert My father always used to find something good in everything. He'd say: ‘Things are not so bad. We'll get through it.’ Until the very last day... 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... 954: Arriving In Auschwitz Judith Steinberg We were put in a big school hall, we were all sitting on the floor with a rucksack. They said we are going to go to work... 988: Getting Up From The Dust Ivor Perl BEM 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... Previous Location Next Location

USA Ellis Island 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 Ilfracombe Memories 961: Having My Revenge Willy Field I was a refugee from Nazi oppression. I wanted to have my revenge & I had my revenge. That was a wonderful feeling... Previous Location Next Location

England Liverpool 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... Previous Location Next Location

Mala Tribich MBE spent the war in hiding in Poland & then in Ravensbrück & Bergen-Belsen concentration camps. All her family except her brother were murdered. Today she is a powerful Holocaust educator. Talking about my experiences was a very gradual process. One of the first times was a Jewish club. The man who ran it—he was a teenager then—was very enterprising to have asked me. People weren’t even thinking of asking survivors to speak then. It was very early. He just felt there is something to learn and he asked me to speak. People generally started speaking in 1981. There was a reunion of people who'd been in Auschwitz together. There they used to discuss things & plan for after the war. They said if we survive & we're free, we’ll all meet again. So that reunion took place in Israel in 1981. When I came back, a Jewish group I belonged to organised a meeting—we used to have meetings in people’s houses, we weren’t a very big group. But when I got back, they organised this meeting & actually booked a hall. So many people turned up. People were interested. Before no one was talking & no one asked—liked to ask, so it just stayed silent for all those years. The odd talk here & there. So that’s when people really started talking about the Shoah. I said I wouldn't speak, but I did. And a friend spoke as well. It started from there. Sometimes I didn't want people to know that I am a survivor. We didn't call them survivors. I don't know what we called them. It just seemed so horrific & so out of normal life. I didn't ask to speak, ever. But once I was talking about a camp & this woman made this funny face. Like: oh, dear, how awful. But it was a response that made me realise she really hadn’t a clue because people wouldn't respond like that if they knew. It’s much more than 'oh dear', you know. So many aspects of people’s reactions & what people felt & said & how they said it. Now it’s come to a point where it’s an established thing. People know about it, they teach it at schools, it’s something that can be discussed. But at the beginning it was just weird. Sometimes I felt I didn't want people to know that I was in a concentration camp. If people asked me, where do you come from, sometimes I used to say: Sweden, sort of not fully understanding or pretending not to understand that where you come from isn't where you’ve just arrived from, but where you were born. So I said it quite innocently actually. I've sorted it all out [laughs] in time but I had very mixed feelings. I didn't even tell my husband's family, because it wasn’t a subject for discussion. No framework for talking. It was painful, not just for me. People were so horrified. Then books started coming out. People learned that way. The schools came much later & when they came, they didn't use it because it wasn’t compulsory. It was on the curriculum but they weren’t obliged to teach it. So now it is compulsory, so it’s different. But I don't think of myself as a survivor. I don't like to be branded as something. I’m a lot of other things as well. An ordinary human being. Talking about what happened isn't therapeutic for me but it also doesn't damage me or disturb me. It keeps it alive for me. It’s just part of my life. But I'm very motivated. I think it is so important for people to hear the story. It’s not about me. But I think it desperately needs to be told. People need to know & maybe some of them will be affected in a way to actually become active about it & do something about antisemitism. It matters that it comes from me. If you're hearing something secondhand, well, it’s second-hand. Sometimes when I speak I really have tears in my eyes but I never cry with tears, no matter how tragic or terrible. My eyes fill with tears but they don't come down my face. 935: Starting To Speak Mala Tribich 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 935: Starting To Speak ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Mala Tribich MBE Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Mala Tribich MBE's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, September 2023 • Learn More → Mala Tribich MBE Bergen-Belsen Close Family Murdered Concentration Camp Ravensbrück Recovery Telling The Story Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts England See Locations Full Text Mala Tribich MBE spent the war in hiding in Poland & then in Ravensbrück & Bergen-Belsen concentration camps. All her family except her brother were murdered. Today she is a powerful Holocaust educator. Talking about my experiences was a very gradual process. One of the first times was a Jewish club. The man who ran it—he was a teenager then—was very enterprising to have asked me. People weren’t even thinking of asking survivors to speak then. It was very early. He just felt there is something to learn and he asked me to speak. People generally started speaking in 1981. There was a reunion of people who'd been in Auschwitz together. There they used to discuss things & plan for after the war. They said if we survive & we're free, we’ll all meet again. So that reunion took place in Israel in 1981. When I came back, a Jewish group I belonged to organised a meeting—we used to have meetings in people’s houses, we weren’t a very big group. But when I got back, they organised this meeting & actually booked a hall. So many people turned up. People were interested. Before no one was talking & no one asked—liked to ask, so it just stayed silent for all those years. The odd talk here & there. So that’s when people really started talking about the Shoah. I said I wouldn't speak, but I did. And a friend spoke as well. It started from there. Sometimes I didn't want people to know that I am a survivor. We didn't call them survivors. I don't know what we called them. It just seemed so horrific & so out of normal life. I didn't ask to speak, ever. But once I was talking about a camp & this woman made this funny face. Like: oh, dear, how awful. But it was a response that made me realise she really hadn’t a clue because people wouldn't respond like that if they knew. It’s much more than 'oh dear', you know. So many aspects of people’s reactions & what people felt & said & how they said it. Now it’s come to a point where it’s an established thing. People know about it, they teach it at schools, it’s something that can be discussed. But at the beginning it was just weird. Sometimes I felt I didn't want people to know that I was in a concentration camp. If people asked me, where do you come from, sometimes I used to say: Sweden, sort of not fully understanding or pretending not to understand that where you come from isn't where you’ve just arrived from, but where you were born. So I said it quite innocently actually. I've sorted it all out [laughs] in time but I had very mixed feelings. I didn't even tell my husband's family, because it wasn’t a subject for discussion. No framework for talking. It was painful, not just for me. People were so horrified. Then books started coming out. People learned that way. The schools came much later & when they came, they didn't use it because it wasn’t compulsory. It was on the curriculum but they weren’t obliged to teach it. So now it is compulsory, so it’s different. But I don't think of myself as a survivor. I don't like to be branded as something. I’m a lot of other things as well. An ordinary human being. Talking about what happened isn't therapeutic for me but it also doesn't damage me or disturb me. It keeps it alive for me. It’s just part of my life. But I'm very motivated. I think it is so important for people to hear the story. It’s not about me. But I think it desperately needs to be told. People need to know & maybe some of them will be affected in a way to actually become active about it & do something about antisemitism. It matters that it comes from me. If you're hearing something secondhand, well, it’s second-hand. Sometimes when I speak I really have tears in my eyes but I never cry with tears, no matter how tragic or terrible. My eyes fill with tears but they don't come down my face. 935: Starting To Speak Mala Tribich MBE Adapted from Mala Tribich MBE's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, September 2023 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Algeria Mostaganem 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

Germany Essen 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... Previous Location Next Location

March 1945: Susan Pollack OBE, age 15, is on a death march from Guben slave labour camp to Bergen-Belsen concentration camp: 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. No place to escape. I didn’t know anyone. Where would I go? Who'd help me? I was very obedient & did what I was told. That was their way, making sure that you follow. I don’t know how we survived, how anybody survived. Conditions were so dreadful. A long, long, long walk. I wasn’t there very long, the barrack in Belsen. Conditions were… bodies all over, dead, rotted. I woke up to find my neighbour dead. I heard shouting when the liberation came. But it didn’t mean anything to me any more. It didn’t matter. Bergen-Belsen was a place of death. Look, I’m grateful I’m alive. I’m grateful that I could survive with an enormous amount of pain. The Swedes were helpful actually, in creating—that’s what music does to one’s life. Music, that was my recovery, help. We walked away, there was no revenge. We walked away, we didn’t commit any crimes or hate or anything like that. I’m glad we did not. We just walked away & hoped perhaps we can somehow build a life, just a little life. I became a Samaritan, that was very helpful to me. I used to take my children at Christmas time to hospitals & relieve the staff from serving tea. We would do it. That I found, for me, is very helpful. I had befriended a number of British soldiers who had liberated Bergen-Belsen. They are my real heroes, who liberated after such a long battle & yet retained kindness, helpfulness. That stayed with me. Goodness, kindness & helpfulness are the driving forces for life. After liberation Susan was sent to Sweden to convalesce. I began to understand that there is a goodness in the world. I don’t have much recollection about getting there. I was in a daze. I thought it must be a dream, a fantasy that people cared about me. I feared that the picture will disappear. I didn’t completely understand liberation myself yet. It had to come gradually. Listening to music every night. This wonderful, youngish man had a very big collection of music he played to us. Lights off, we sat in the dark. And I learned I had an inner life. That inner life was strengthened by listening to the music, because Beethoven understood me. Somehow the beautiful, lyrical music was there. And the darkness opened up like a flower. 928: Goodness Kindness & Helpfulness Susan Pollack OBE 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 928: Goodness Kindness & Helpfulness ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Susan Pollack OBE Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Susan Pollack OBE's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, October 2023 • Learn More → Susan Pollack OBE Bergen-Belsen British Army Concentration Camp Guben Liberation Recovery Slave Labourer Swedish Recuperation Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany See Locations Full Text March 1945: Susan Pollack OBE, age 15, is on a death march from Guben slave labour camp to Bergen-Belsen concentration camp: 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. No place to escape. I didn’t know anyone. Where would I go? Who'd help me? I was very obedient & did what I was told. That was their way, making sure that you follow. I don’t know how we survived, how anybody survived. Conditions were so dreadful. A long, long, long walk. I wasn’t there very long, the barrack in Belsen. Conditions were… bodies all over, dead, rotted. I woke up to find my neighbour dead. I heard shouting when the liberation came. But it didn’t mean anything to me any more. It didn’t matter. Bergen-Belsen was a place of death. Look, I’m grateful I’m alive. I’m grateful that I could survive with an enormous amount of pain. The Swedes were helpful actually, in creating—that’s what music does to one’s life. Music, that was my recovery, help. We walked away, there was no revenge. We walked away, we didn’t commit any crimes or hate or anything like that. I’m glad we did not. We just walked away & hoped perhaps we can somehow build a life, just a little life. I became a Samaritan, that was very helpful to me. I used to take my children at Christmas time to hospitals & relieve the staff from serving tea. We would do it. That I found, for me, is very helpful. I had befriended a number of British soldiers who had liberated Bergen-Belsen. They are my real heroes, who liberated after such a long battle & yet retained kindness, helpfulness. That stayed with me. Goodness, kindness & helpfulness are the driving forces for life. After liberation Susan was sent to Sweden to convalesce. I began to understand that there is a goodness in the world. I don’t have much recollection about getting there. I was in a daze. I thought it must be a dream, a fantasy that people cared about me. I feared that the picture will disappear. I didn’t completely understand liberation myself yet. It had to come gradually. Listening to music every night. This wonderful, youngish man had a very big collection of music he played to us. Lights off, we sat in the dark. And I learned I had an inner life. That inner life was strengthened by listening to the music, because Beethoven understood me. Somehow the beautiful, lyrical music was there. And the darkness opened up like a flower. 928: Goodness Kindness & Helpfulness Susan Pollack OBE Edited from Susan Pollack OBE's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, October 2023 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts